#it is only just now occurring to me how much that has affected his own relationship with his father and his father's memory

[parfaitblogs]

false god ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer (literally) cannot wait to show you how pretty he thinks you are tonight. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: established relationship. public stuff. fingering. the team is there. readers wearing a skirt. he looooves you. they're at a bar. kinda soft dom!spence but like only if you squint. i have never posted smut before if im missing tags tell meee word count: 1.9k a/n: biting the bullet. posting smut (shudders). i have a singular roman empire and it is spencer reid plus fingering. i think about it sooo often. i do not think he would be the type to actually do this in public so yes it is self indulgent yes u can all call me crazy!! idgaf!!! i feel like the pacing in this is kinda weird pls forgive i never write smut :< if it's bad don't tell me let me be blissfully ignorant thank YEW!!

You were pretty sure there was something wrong with him (Spencer Reid). Something fundamentally broken in his brain, because he had not said a word to you that made sense from the second he picked you up from your apartment that evening. 

A lot of 'mhm's' and 'yeah's', which from maybe any other man would be normal, was not from him. He didn't speak incredibly eloquently, per se. But he did always respond to you in sentences. He liked to talk, so this lack of it was concerning you. 

He was seated next to you, in the booth Penelope Garcia had scouted out the second she stepped foot into the bar you were all meeting at. It was supposed to be a simple evening. Some drinks, some talking, winding down after the awful case you had just come back from. Spencer's lack of talking had you feeling anything but (simple). 

"Are you okay?" you had asked him when half the team stood up to go purchase the second round of drinks for everyone, and he wordlessly nodded his head, staring at the glass of water on the table in front of him, condensation sweating down to the wood. 

He wasn't. But there was only so much you could do for him when he was shutting down, especially in a public setting, so you nodded your own head, and settled into conversation with JJ instead. 

His hand found your thigh at some point during the conversation, and while you had flinched at its first contact, you didn't think much of it — he was never one for huge displays of affection, but he loved having his hands on you. An act as simple as a hand on your back had you swooning now, because you knew in his mind, he was thinking everything there was to possibly think about you. 

What you did think much of, was the way it crept higher as the team returned with drinks, and the noise from your booth got louder as conversations clashed with each other. 

Your head turned to the side, eyebrows furrowing, but he was still staring at his half-drank glass of water, with no real expression on his face. Frustratingly so.

He was never cruel, you learned. It was why his next action didn't occur until you had finished your sentence to JJ, as if to prevent what would've been your vocal chords tightening and lifting the octave of your voice as you spoke. 

It was such a featherlike touch it was hardly there, and you probably wouldn't have noticed it if he didn't do it again. And again. And again. One of his fingers brushing delicately over the centre of your underwear in a quick swiping motion, that had your head snapping to the side, meeting his jawline and his unwavering gaze with his glass of water. 

"Spencer," you muttered, and it was only then did he tilt his head down to look at you, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

His hand wrapped around the side of your inner thigh and tugged you across the seat, closer to him, his head ducking down to speak. 

"You're really pretty," he murmured, and your eyebrows only furrowed further at that.

"Thank you," you decided to say. "But what are you doing?"

"I just wanna touch you. Is that okay?"

You were silent for a moment. Maybe a moment too long, because he was already pulling his hand off your thigh, nodding his head.

"I mean, yes," you quickly say, catching his wrist before it could stray too far. "I was just confused where this was coming from."

"I really like the skirt," he explained, and your lips parted and an amused huff of air left them. Of course.

"Me too."

"Need you to wear it more often," he then said, his hand finding its way back between your thighs. "Please?"

"Maybe," you said, because it was all you could say, considering he was moving things along a little bit faster now that you had consented (not that you think you would've denied it). 

His ministrations were small enough that you could keep your voice steady as you kept conversation going with JJ, but firm enough that you squirmed every thirty seconds. He, on the other hand, was acting as though he was doing nothing to you, engaged in a conversation about the origins of pasta, with David Rossi. 

"I mean, in Greek mythology, it suggests that the Greek god Vulcan invented a device that made strings of dough. Which could be classified as the first spaghetti," he said, and at the same time, his fingers slipped beneath your underwear, brushing over your embarrassingly wet folds. 

You watched him stiffen, only because you had killed your conversation with JJ with one too many 'uh-huh's', and his jaw locked.

You were merely observant as he circled your clit a few times, until you were picking up your drink and forcing yourself to sip on it in order to keep your mouth busy — instead of releasing a moan that you really didn't want the team to hear. 

His gaze flicked to you for only half a second, and you met his eyes with an embarrassingly desperate look, and he laughed, oh so quietly, before a finger slipped into you. 

It was so gentle you thought you would go insane, and he rested the finger there for a few seconds as he responded to an argument Rossi had made about the Italian's inventing bolognese or whatever. You weren't really listening. 

The internal war you were dealing with; a pool of fiery butterflies in your stomach and the constant screaming to stay quiet in your brain was a stark contrast to Spencer's relaxed state. Because he had lazily began to move his finger like it was Sunday morning and he was easing you awake, and not in the middle of a Virginia bar with conversations amongst the team happening around you. 

You hated him for that.

Your hips squirmed when he crooked his finger, and your free hand bolted to his wrist, holding his hand still just before he could do it again, and elicit a sound from you.

The second Rossi had become immersed in something Morgan had said, Spencer's gaze was returning to you, an amused smile stretched across his lips. 

"You okay, honey?" he murmured, ducking his face down to kiss your cheek, heat blossoming on the spot. 

"I am trying so hard not to make a noise," you said, and he smiled, and you could feel it against your skin, wonderfully so.

"And you're doing an excellent job of it."

"You know, if you just took me to the bathroom..." you trailed off, eyes flickering up to him. 

"Not happening. Do you know how many germs are in public bathrooms?"

"Probably as many as the seat you're currently fingering me on," you hissed, voice hushed. 

At that, he pushed the heel of his hand against your clit, and you choked out a mewl. 

"I can stop," he said, though it didn't come out as a warning. You knew he only offered it because he would get the reaction of you violently shaking your head. "Right. No bathroom."

"No bathroom," you agreed with a flip of your stomach. 

His attention was captured by a conversation again, and with it, his finger began moving again. He was moving it with such an expertise that if this was any other situation you'd be impressed. Unfortunately, you were a little preoccupied with trying not to make a sound to appreciate how well he knew your body. 

Lazy pumps of his finger had you reeling and he was hardly doing anything, which was definitely going to be embarrassing to think about later on when he brings this up. Like you knew he would. 

Your A+ streak of making no noise was interrupted — quite rudely — by him slipping another finger in, the uncomfortable stretch that only lasted a second eliciting a whimper you couldn't keep to yourself. His eyebrows shot up and you were thankful Rossi had not been looking at him when his gaze rested on you again, and that the music in the bar was loud enough to drown out the sound to anyone who wasn't listening for it. 

"Too much?" he asked, but the second you felt him slowly pulling that second finger back, you were shaking your head, nails digging into the wrist that you still had captured. 

"No. It's not. Promise."

He smiled, and wordlessly nodded his head as he allowed the finger to straighten inside of you. Then, he moved them in and out of you a few times, achingly slowly. 

"Spencer," you breathed out, frustrated. 

"Yes, angel?"

"Can you please... just... go faster," you bit out, heat flushing your cheeks. Again.

"That would make it obvious," he answered, and you let out a huff of air. You knew he was right. "But," he added, upon detecting your annoyance. "I can do this."

He was once again proving how well he knew your body, because his thumb so easily found your clit, and circled it in a way that shot sparks up through your body.

"Yes you can," you agreed, nodding your head eagerly, and he breathed out a chuckle.

It seemed to be a lot easier to do that fast enough and hide what he was doing to you at the same time, because his fingers bent upwards at the same time he flicked his thumb over your clit, and whatever self-control you thought you had was swindled.

Your teeth bit down on the disintegrating paper straw, just to stop the moan that caught in the base of your throat from leaving it, and at that, he did it again. 

Spencer Reid was good at a lot of things. Making you come from the lightest of touches seemed to be joining that long list. Your head buried itself into the forearm of the hand that was touching you, at the same time he used it to push your hips back into the seat when they had begun to lift upwards. 

"You're making it obvious," he said to you, and what you're sure would've been a wonderfully eloquent argument died in your throat when he flicked your clit again. 

"I can't," you managed to get out, shaking your head as your fingers dug perhaps a little too hard into his wrist. 

"No?" he mused, though didn't stop his movements. You shook your head. He smiled. "So you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Mm, you're conflicting yourself, angel," he said, and you groaned for more than just how he was making you feel because you knew that. 

You bit down on his arm through his shirt to silence another moan when he pushed his fingers in a little harder than before, and if it hurt, he didn't say anything. You decided it must not have, because he repeated that movement. 

You were fighting against the need to squirm as your stomach tightened. And he must've figured out what was happening, because he masked your incandescent need to moan by using his opposite hand to entangle within your hair, bringing your face into his chest, acting as a hug to anyone who could see you. 

"There you go," he murmured, awfully gently, in your ear, as your walls fluttered around his fingers. 

You weren't sure if you were imagining your hips jerking until he was slipping his fingers out of you and pushing them down into the seat again.

He wiped his fingers against his pants, and your lips parted, eyes staring at him, dumbfounded. 

"What?" 

You shook your head, regaining a little self control as you settled down. "Nothing. I'm wearing this skirt again, though."

"Good."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[blujayonthewing]

just realized something about ambrose and his relationship to his parents that I would LOVE to CHEW ON but he exists in limbo and I don't have the outlets oTL

[bu-blegh-ost]

Something just occured to me. Circling through each beautiful moment in the campaign, I noticed a pattern. Gillion never initiates hugs. Every time, no matter if he is the one consoling or the one being consoled, he never is the first person to offer an embrace. And I think it says something.

When Jay wants to hug Gill, she always asks first. She opens her arms as an invitation and always gives him a clear sign that she wants to be close to him. And any time she offers, anytime Gillion gets permission, any time he feels like he is allowed one, he clings to her desperately and fully, starved for it, finding himself unable to let go too quickly, savoring it like he isn't sure when he is going to be allowed to have another.

Chip's hugs are unprompted and usually done with just as much desperation. They are completely controlled by emotion, and are a form of a language that Chip uses when love and appreciation cannot be expressed by words anymore. Chip never asks for hugs, he takes them. He needs them, so he is scared to ask like Jay does, cause asking means risking to be denied. It is safer to steal it. In contrast Jay is still asking cause she is still afraid of taking love for granted.

But they both, in the end, ask for hugs and comfort in their own ways. Gillion doesn't. He wants it, he needs it so often, but he never dares to ask for it. Cause he still treats love as a reward that he needs to earn, that he is not allowed to ask for, that can't be had, unless he does something that makes him worthy of being loved. Affection and love is a currency and Gill was taught that he needs to fight for it. That it's something he should never dare to request on his own.

How many times on their journey did he need to feel someone else's body close to his, but his lips were sealed, suffering in silence, thinking he Has not done well enough to be given the privalage of being comforted? How many aches and worries did he swallow down and burried deep inside? How many old wounds is he trying to fill with every single hug he receives, when someone else offers it to him? When he dares to take it, when he grips their clothes in an iron grip, trying to make the best out of it before it's gone? Cause who knows when someone allows him to have that again?

The only person Gill ever hugged first was Edyn, the first time in Allport. It was done with the same ferocity of a hurt child, of a little boy who Has been going through hell and his sister is his only remedy. The only person that always lets him have love for free. The only one he knows he can hug for sure. One who for so many years has been the only source of comfort.

The rest of the world is uncertain and even with Chip and Jay, Gill still strives to fulfill the unsaid cryteria of when he is worthy of their affection.

But I know that with enough reassurance and care, he will be able to ask for love himself and start treating his crew as people he can fall back on. And just so you know, the moment in which Gillion is the first one to hug Chip or Jay is going to make me cry like a little baby.

_______

Edit: more thoughts occured

Did you notice that Jay always seems to match Gill and Chip when it comes to hugging? She never asks Chip for hugs and takes them the same way Chip does, no matter if she is the one seeking or offering comfort. And the same goes with Gill. Regardless of whether she is the one in the need of comfort or she is the one comforting, she always verbally communicates a desire to hug first. Like she kinda feels that this is what Gillion needs from her to accept it.

So maybe Jay is actually always trying to search for the most effective way to get a hug, to increase her chances. She believes she has to, cause she cannot take love for granted anymore, not after Ava's death. She took her for granted and now she is gone. So now Jay struggles to freely express her own desires and instead clings to all the ways that she thinks guarantee her the affection she needs, an act of desperation in its own right. A silent plea for acceptance.

Each Captain on this ship treats each embrace as a treasure to savor and protect. It's a result of their past and their fears, but also a proof of unyielding love they have for each other. It's beautiful and one day the same love that they still dread to take, will heal them.

[celtrist]

Obsession AU! Alastor with an alternate pink-ish version (because I'm indecisive and colors will just always evade me)!

More info is below!

So I realized that while the AU is all about Alastor, I never actually talked about how Alastor is in the AU! I've done a bit of a redesign for his character, though nothing too huge. I wasn't intending on a full redesign

So to start with some items he just has, there are really only two additions: A pocketbook and a watch! The pocketbook was initially used to write down notes and thoughts on the fly for his radio show! He still uses it for that occasionally, but it's turned primarily into a journal detailing his experience with the curse. It's where he keeps his own thoughts about what occurs around or to him there, his plans for the day, and the habits (and schedule) others may follow. It's how he best keeps on top of his suitor's antics and best prepares to deal with them These habits may have a consistent time of occurring (such as Angel and Husk waiting until night to drug Alastor or Rosie only trying to drug him during lunch). Both these timed occurrences and the more "general/can happen whenever" occurrences are noted down on each suitor's personal pages to keep track of what they do. These people he notes the habits of are people he spends his time often around and needs to be wary of. (i.e. there's a page or two specifically detailing Angel's habits, and the same with Husk, Niffry, Charlie, Rosie, etc.)

Alastor's new pocket watch helps him keep up with the time to follow other's movements and track how long events may occur between one another and the general time. This was in part due to being unable to keep track of time during his time with Vox, so he developed a habit of frequently checking it. He never leaves without it and feels the most comfortable keeping track of the time and passing of it, down to the second. The engraving on the watch is the symbol for New Orleans as a reminder of his home, and the inside has details for that of deer antlers! I would've put some voodoo symbols but uh, that's a touchy subject currently so thought it best to scrap the idea. The unofficial motto of "Laissez les bons temps rouler" for New Orleans meaning "let the good times roll" is engraved on the back of the watch.

Now to his sorta "injuries". To start from oldest to newest, Alastor was branded on the tongue during his brief time with Vox! This idea I nicked from this comic by zx12mn34 on Twitter & PostType. (Which, fun fact, if I remember right, these two comics are also what led to the idea of the Obsession AU and another MUCH darker "Unwilling Bride" AU!) So credit where credit is due there!

Alastor's right ear can no longer stand up straight! If he's surprised it may pick up, but the tip will remain crooked!

This occurred by his soul owner, not long after his time with Vox!

In a less visual sense and given by an anon, Alastor has damage to his stomach lining! It's only to the point of affecting his diet with spicy or spiced meals, so he's had to suffer eating more bland items for his taste.

Finally the fimble! Due to a close call with one of Vaggie's traps, he scathed out with only a lost finger in the end! He's since put a fimble on it to have something there. He's decorated it with his own bit of flare because a boring old fimble would be boring! "ALWAYS SMILE" is on the rim of the fimble with a fun smiley face on what would be his nail. It's a bit scratched from his fidgeting and he'll sometimes keep something to doodle symbols on it, but only the smiley face and words actually stay on it!

Alastor is a lot more tired in this AU, and contrary to his canon counterpart, isn't as big of a fan for attention. He still carries himself with a strong sense of confidence and elegance, but is much more wary of others'. He will genuinely treat others more as a serious threat, Vox being someone he often gets quiet about due to his betrayal. Alastor has adjusted in the 90 or so years to live with this curse and will use it to his advantage whenever possible. This will be done in various ways like pitting suitors against one another or getting what he wants when threat and violence don't offer the desired effect:

Flirting isn't his preferred method of course but is what he does when there's no other option or when the suitor he's interacting with might be more dangerous or needs to remain on their good side. It's a tactic he will occasionally use with Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer, but only if they're really not budging on a request he has.

Alastor still keeps his presentation relatively tidy, so his hair is still neat and his outfit pristine. He wants to keep that look of control, so he does so via his faux appearance. However, he's pretty high-strung due to the constant stress and harassment he endures in everyday life. More prone to anxiety, even more trust issues than in canon, and more adverse to touch. Alastor avoids getting into other people's personal space in this AU and even wears gloves that are comedically identical to his own hands (which kinda still unclear if that's canon or not with the glove things, but for this AU it is). Alastor is more affected by certain things and, I guess you could say can get triggered by things that remind him of certain events (like his time with Vox or Rosie). While he isn't fragile like glass, he's got a pretty thick skin given the situation he has, Alastor certainly has more moments of weakness. In those moments he may let others do whatever to him because of just being exhausted and not wanting to think. This includes Angel drugging him, Vaggie dressing him, and Charlie or Lucifer getting cuddly among others.

Currently in the story, his most "trusted companions" are his shadows and Keekee (due to disliking him).

[wallflowerimagines]

Howdy dowdy, Partner. It's me, ya boi, Skinny Penis.

How would the Lords react to a selectively mute S/O? Especially their reaction to them talking to them for the first time.

I have this mental image of Heisenberg's S/O saying something really casually (while they're relaxing or something), and he just whips around to look at them and he just shouts "hoLY FUCK!"

Saw the first line of this ask and then it was followed by a cute prompt????---

Warnings: swearing, my typical brand of silly

Alcina Dimitrescu

She's so used to your quiet demeanor it's to the point where she COMPLETELY forgot that your silence is a choice.

Alcina quite honestly never expected you to speak to her, and she was mentally planning for the rest of your relationship to be this way -- all of the servants are learning to sign, just in case, and she has pens and paper in every room if you prefer to write as your form of communication.

When you do finally speak up, she's frozen. What.

Oh. You can. You...can speak?

It's one of the times you've ever seen Alcina baffled, because honestly? She has no idea what to do.

However, you can bet she IMMEDIATELY analyses the situation in order to make sure she can get you to keep talking to her. Whatever made this happen needs to be repeated as much as possible -- Now that she knows you can be made comfortable enough to speak, she needs to hear you speak again.

(It might not have been your intention, but you hit her right in the superiority complex. Her partner spoke to HER. JUST her. Exclusively. Alcina is going to be riding this high for decades)

The Lady Dimitrescu is a big believer in positive reinforcement with her loved ones, so you better believe that every time you speak she is extra affectionate, because she does like to hear your voice!💞

Essentially, you have prompted constant affection DO NOT RESIST---

Donna Beneviento

I mentioned this in my other Donna x Mute reader post, but Donna is able to relate to a mute s/o a lot.

She's pretty nonverbal herself, so often you two have moments of quiet peace, where the two of you are doing your own thing together in the same room, taking breaks only to hold hands, cuddle, and kiss each other sweetly.

Truly dreamy💕💕💕

The first time you speak to her though, she's sewing a new outfit for one of her dolls, while you're reading in the setee beside her.

You peak over her shoulder, clear your throat and say: "You're really talented, Donna".

She drops a stitch.

Her face is burning underneath her veil. The first thing you say to her is a complement??? About a skill she is actually proud of??? That's already enough to get her heart stuttering, but you said her name.

It feels like such a small thing, but it sends Donna into a tizzy. Your lips formed the syllables of her name, and she can't get over it. You said a compliment and her name in the same sentence.

She's swooning. Smitten. Overcome.

Expect some flustered giggling and a compliment in return.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore has no chill whatsoever.

He literally drops everything and scuttles across the room to stand in front of you, flitting his hands around you in excitement, not quite touching you but close.

He's! So! Excited!

He didn't process what you even said-- you SPOKE TO HIM!!!! Fireworks are going off in his brain, Kool and the Gang are celebrating the good times, life is beautiful and love is in the air....

Moreau is delighted by this development. You feel safe enough around him a monster to vocalize your thoughts. You trust him. He already knew you did, but this is confirmation he didn't even know he wanted. Moreau almost starts crying he's so relieved.

Meanwhile you're repeatedly trying to warn him about the disaster occurring on the stove.

"... Salvatore, honey, the pancakes are burning."

Honey???? HONEY??? Are you TRYING to kill him????

Salvatore staggers on his feet, unintentionally the most dramatic you've ever seen him.

Sighing, you hide a smile behind your palm and give him a little smooch on the cheek before you go rescue your breakfast.

Moreau flatlines. Better give him some mouth to mouth 💗.

Karl Heisenberg

Absolutely shocked the first time you speak.

He's working on a soldat, fully used to the silence as he solders body parts together to make a deadly monster worthy of murdering Mother Miranda.

"You missed a spot--"

jESUS FUCK

Very softly, you speak up again. "At the shoulder. It's not... It's not fully connected."

Heisenberg whips around to just...stare??? At you for a bit?? His face is totally expressionless, but make no mistake his brain is reeling.

What is he supposed to do here? You feel comfortable enough to talk with him--this is a big deal, right? Is he supposed to comfort you? Praise you?

Still, it's not in Heisenberg's nature to make a big deal of things, and he doesn't want to spook you.

Eventually he nods, grunts in acknowledgement, and gets back to work.

Still, your words ring in his ears. Your voice fits you so well? He never really thought about what you sounded like before, but honestly now it's all he can think about.

Much later, when you almost forget about the whole thing, he'll offhandedly say he's proud of you for finally speaking up for yourself.

It's kinda condescending? But you know Heisenberg pretty well, and the fact he refuses to meet your eyes let's you know he's just being his normal, socially stunted self.

Thank him for the "compliment" and you'll get a pleased grin back, as well as a teasing hair ruffle. He's...happy you're comfortable with him.

It just makes your relationship feel even more right. ❤️

[cntloup]

medieval au

you try to find out what your husband does!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

"oh my god, simon! are you hurt?" you exclaim, rushing to him as he walks through the door at midnight, shirt littered with splashes of blood.

"it's not mine." he responds in his gruff voice, "wh-what? well, whose is it then? what happened?" you ask, eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"it's nothing. you don't need to worry about it." he says, hoping that you'd let it go, but underestimating your stubbornness.

"what do you mean? of course i worry!" you raise your voice in disbelief that he'd think you wouldn't care.

"there was... a disagreement. it's settled now." he says as he tries to walk past you and enter the room only for you to prevent him from passing.

"what do you mean?... what did you do?" you ask in shock as it dawns on you, "simon?"

you're met by his cold stare, "nothing i haven't done before." he utters in a monotone voice and finally walks past you, his shoulder slamming onto yours, making you take a step back.

you gasp and cover your mouth with your hands as it just now occurs to you that you barely know him. he's your husband, yet you know next to nothing about him.

his cold and dismissive demeanor has hurt you deeply. you truly care for him and wish he'd open up to you. although, you notice that you haven't been so open with him either.

you spend some time by yourself, trying to cool down and think while he cleans himself up in the bathroom.

and you decide to bring it up when he steps into the room to find you sitting on the bed with your back resting against the headboard.

"simon?" you call out, "yes?" he mutters, not even looking at you.

"what is it that you do exactly? i mean... i know that you're a blacksmith. but you..." you pause, wondering whether it's even your place to ask, considering it's only a marriage of convenience. but you decide to continue, "you return home late at times. and now with the... the blood!" you say, your voice laced with concern.

your feelings for him have grown over the past months, not only trusting that he wouldn't hurt you, but something more... 'is it love?' you wish to understand. and you hope that he cares for you as you do for him.

and he absolutely does, more than you'd think, certainly so much more than he lets on. he is lost, confused. he feels conflicted by all the emotions coursing through him, the emotions that you have ignited in his cold dead heart. and he tells himself that it's just a contract, nothing more as he buries his feelings deep.

yes, he shows you affection and calls you 'love' from time to time, and he finds himself having more and more of those sleepless nights if you're not beside him, in his arms while you snore softly which lulls him to sleep. but 'it's nothing' he tells himself.

"it's none of your concern. go to sleep. it's nearly dawn." he says in a cold manner again, making your face fall in disappointment and sorrow.

"simon please! we're married now. i deserve to know as your wife... i-i really... care about you!" you finally spill out the words, not believing yourself at first, but the look on his face says that you really did say it.

"what?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, "yes, simon. i care about you. please let me in." you plead as you crawl to his sitting form on the edge of the bed.

you wrap your arm around his bicep as you sit beside him, making him slightly shiver at your touch, especially after your confession.

"i know this nice home and all the things you get me are not from being a blacksmith." you murmur playfully in his ear and he shakes his head with a light chuckle.

how did he think he'd get away with this? of course you'd find out eventually. you're sharp. too sharp for your own good.

but he can't let you in that world. the life he leads is too dangerous. he would never introduce you to a world knowing fully well that it would put you in harm's way. there are too many enemies after his head. if they find out he has someone, they could use you as leverage. he can never let that happen.

yet, he knows you wouldn't let this go that easily. and of course you deserve to know. oh how he wishes he could spill it all out to you, who he is and what he's done, bare his soul to you.

"i'm in the king's army. and i'm a blacksmith while not on deployment." he says, but you can sense that there's more, "that's not all though, is it?" you ask. too sharp.

"that's it for now. go to sleep, woman!" he scolds as he grabs you and plops you down on the bed, making you squeal and giggle, your sweet voice making his heart melt.

"sleep." he whispers before kissing your lips with a smile on his face as he hovers above you, his bulky weight pressed against your body that does something to you as you feel the heat pooling up between your legs.

you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer as you moan his name while deepening the kiss, igniting the fiery passion between you.

"simon!" you breathe out, "yes, love?" he asks, "tell me what you want."

"make love to me..."

[r0-boat]

Helloooooo, it's me again uwu

I have another spicy thirsty headcanon to request if is possible~✨

So, how would the 5 kings (if belphegor is possible also him, because that teaser we have of him has gotten me go all feral to see his whole design!!!) react when they're having they're sexy time with MC (she/her if it's possible, if not they/them is ok uwu), and she starts undressing so she's wearing lingerie.

Thank youuuu if you respond my request :3 ✨❤️✨❤️

Hey welcome back!

Head cannon's coming right up

Five kings + belphegor reaction to MC with lingerie!!

Nsfw

Satan

*Heavy breathing*

It almost feels like his red eyes are staring into your soul His breath deep and shaky, You feel like a steak being tossed too a hungry carnivore as he stalks toward you. Satan looks at you up and down drinking the way the lace hugs against your body. When he grabs you it's gently at firm pulling toward his chest, He purrs against your ear kissing your neck you could feel his other hand going underneath and playing with the thin lace. "Hey gorgeous? That all for me?" You give him a nod and he just chuckles "Good." before throwing you onto the bed and ripping it off like an animal and mounting you right then and there.

Lingerie would never last with Satan expensive to cheap he doesn't give a fuck if he sees pretty things on you that shit's going on the floor in tatters. There's something so appealing about that. Seeing you in such pretty clothes just to rip them off of you and take you like an animal.

Mammon

Buying you things to wear seriously has never occurred to him until now. One of the only times you caught him off guard is when you undressed yourself and his eyes went wide. On the inside his mind exploded. It was like you opened up a new way to flaunt his wealth, a new way for you to me more irresistible than you already are. A new way to fuck you.

When the initial stock was over he gave you that shit eating grin "Wooow Master you spoil me." to you It didn't look like much. But in reality you have him addicted.

Now all he wants you to wear is pretty little lingerie that he buys you. He wants you to be in nothing but that lingerie.

Leviathan

His eyes light up, His breath hitching. He tries not to let it show how much it is affecting him. "Have you shown this to anyone else?" You shake your head, and he smiles. "Good, clothes like this should be for my eyes only."

He takes it from you of. This should be a special treat for only him. And he does not trust you to not wear it in front of only him. So he will confiscate this from you for now, And then the next time you visit, he will give it to you to put on.

He was almost jealous of how good you looked in it almost. It was hard to focus. With the thought that you are wearing this just for him. All that rushed straight to his cock.

Beelzebub

You look so pretty. All he wants to do is miss you up. Make you look like a cum drunk whore, He loves when you dress up like his personal fuck toy, because then he'll fully treat you like one. All you need to do is dull yourself up for your king from now on and he'll fuck you till you forget your own name.

All he can think about is you in that messed up little piece of cloth soaked in cum. Bonus points if you wear delicious perfume. He can't keep his hands off you.

You look like a wrapped little gift, All he needs now is to open that gift. He likes pulling at it when he's fucking you hard.

Lucifer

Fuck, You look so cute; you're so irresistible. He could hardly stand it. "Come here, come closer." He grows patting his lap, inviting you to take a seat. As you sit down you can feel how hard he is for you. But he doesn't fuck you.

Instead Lucifer is eyeing you up and down his fingers trailing across your bare body and the lace. He plays with it slides his hand beneath it. Murmuring about how beautiful you look.

His breath tickles your ear "You know it's dangerous to go out wearing something like this, if you aren't too careful a devil could snatch you up and do a horrible things to you"

His hand starts to dip between your inner thighs. "Are you going to be good and give me what I want?"

Belphegor(speculation)

To be honest he would rather you be in nothing but lingerie or anything without underwear. Easy access and all that.

He would love it if you are his little pocket pussy so he could put his cock between those nice thighs of yours. He likes the feeling of his bare wet cock sliding against the lace that's soaked in your juices.

He would inspect you play with the cloth and grope you. He prefers when it's tight around you So it looks more like bondage.

[thr0wnawayy]

Imo the League of Villains should have never existed from the main story of MHA. They were utterly unbalanced and were so flawed that no attempt of fixing could fix them.

I get where your coming from. I

I honestly believe the LOV really needed was time to grow away from the spotlight.

Think of the LOV as leftover pizza (I know, just stick with me for a minute)

Too long in the microwave/oven/pan and it tastes like hardback, too little and it becomes soggy muddled. There's a very specific way you need to do things and that's by not overthinking it.

Hori kept the microwave on too long and the LOV's potential evaporated.

From what I can tell, MHA worked best when it had a 'Villain of the week's type of thing going on.

This was most prominent and best set up with Stain, Stain's character/arc not only expanded the world of MHA but also brought up deeper questions about Hero society

What's most important here is that Stain didn't overstay his welcome. He rolled in, made every panel count and then went out like a champ. Affecting the protagonist and those around him.

He had an impact that's felt throughout the rest of the series (There is no Internship Arc in Ba Sing Se) not inspite of his short lived presence but because of it.

At some point, Hori lost this concept and the plot went with it.

I think the main problem with the LOV started after Kamino. Before this, every member has solid, or at least tangible ideals.

The Vanguard Action Squad was the LOV at it's most raw, not perfect but functional. They felt like people, when Spinner stops Magne from pursuing Midoriya, it feels real for the world.

Simply put the LOV (much like 1A) worked best as individuals, differing worldviews and all.

So when Hori robbed the LOV of their autonomy by practically wrangling them to Shigaraki, it in turn killed the LOV, because now nothing was individual about them.

If you want an example, how about Magne's death. Her last words are the very last time anyone in the LOV asserts any belief besides Shigaraki's own.

After this the LOV barely give any resistance to Shigaraki's plans no matter how short sighted or convoluted.

Kurogiri is outright sacrificed by the narrative so that Shigaraki finally has to step up.

Shigaraki's reaction to Toga's rage and grief follwing Magne's death can be amounted to: "Trust me bro, we're doing this for us bro, please believe me bro."

It's absurd.

As for being flawed, I'll assume you mean their motives.

What needs to be understood is that the LOV (Pre Kamino) and the PLF (Post Kamino) are not the same characters

Flanderisation is the phenomenon of a characters worst traits being exacerbated over a period of time until said character is unrecognizable from their original self.

This is what Hori did the LOV and he did this intentionally.

At some point he realized that the Villains actually had more of a point than the heroes, this likely occured after the MVA arc when fans began rooting for the LOV.

To counter this Hori sabotaged multiple characters and plots in a desperate attempt to justify his woolies and unfortunately for everyone who's isn't an abuser-stan (Enji and Bakuo). The rest of the cast and world suffered greatly.

What you ended up with are characters so detached from their origins that they might as well not even be the same characters at all.

There's an image somewhere that encapsulates this perfectly, it's a 4 panel comic with two stick figures (one black and one blue). If I ever find it or someone links it I'll be sure to upload it here

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Offers Silk Flowers & Osmanthus Tea

Zhongli falling in love deeply with a Human Mortal and has a crisis about it

Zhongli x Reader / SFW / reader is a mortal / reader is implied to be attracted to Zhongli but not necessarily in love with him / he gets yandere thoughts but doesn't take it anywhere because as a 6000 year old god, he can control himself / so he has a crisis over his feelings and friend-zones himself instead

It's hard to imagine Zhongli having a crisis about anything. He's lived so long that centuries worth of memories are compressed into decades relative to the entirety of his life. A mortal's life will flicker by as quickly as a firefly's brief glow, short-lived but breathtaking. He has witnessed the lives of countless, their meetings, their partings, their laughter, and their tears. Just as he sits in the audience of an opera, captivated by what is happening on the stage, he's always been the bystander. That had always been the case until he met you. With you, he's been finding it increasingly difficult to keep himself seated. You tested his patience and tempted his impulses. Before he could withdraw, you had reached out and dragged him onto the stage with you. How could you twirl around him so carefree, so ignorant to his growing dilemma?

"Is there something on my face?" You paused in your chatter, catching him staring at you mid-conversation.

"No." Zhongli replied, smiling softly at you like he always does.

He just couldn't help but notice how your eyes glimmered when you spoke about things that you were passionate about. The sound of your voice, the tremble from the excitement bubbling inside of you, as well as your slight breathlessness as you spoke in a frenzy of words, it tickled something deep inside of him. He could listen to you speak all day, so there was no need to get it all out in one sitting. It wasn't like he would suddenly get up and leave if you took up too much of his time. All he could do was furrow his brow because he couldn't bear to interrupt you.

"Why the frown then?" You paused again to ask. His intense gaze was causing you to become self-conscious.

Because you're frustrating, he wanted to say.

Zhongli raised his fist to lips and cleared his throat, hoping you'd catch the hint. You didn't, instead reaching for the teapot to refill his cup.

"Drink some tea, dear. Your throat is the one in dire need of moisture."

You flushed. "Now that you remind me, I am a bit thirsty."

"There is no need to rush. I have more than enough time to hear all that you have to say." He reassures you.

Everything about you was endearing to a painful degree. The way you talked, the way you laughed, even the way you're currently gulping down your tea could land him in an abrupt daze and have his heart beating at a slightly faster pace.

He constantly found himself occupied by thoughts of you as of late, even while he was not in your presence. These emotions grated at his mind, carving out a hole that could only be filled by your presence. Your blissful ignorance to the way you affected him was almost cruel, but what was an inexperienced god to do when he had fallen so helplessly for an equally clueless mortal?

A late bloomer, now that's something few would ever dare call the Lord of Geo. This petrified seed took six thousand years to crack, but at least it sprouted, right? Seeing mortals fall in love over and over, one would think it'd be apparent to him if those tender emotions were to one day bloom from the crevices of his own heart, but no, that would be giving him too much credit. He hardly knew what to do with himself in this aspect, much less you.

For all the broad knowledge he had accumulated, nothing could've prepared him for falling in love with you. He was used to taking his time, admiring every detail along his solitary journey. Never did it occur to him that he was not going slow enough, that he could possibly want to slow down even more, to the point of complete standstill. You were the inconspicuous bloom by the road that had managed to convince him to stop in his tracks. Every moment he spends in your presence, he fights the impulse to tear you from your stem. It terrified him to come to terms with what had taken root inside his heart and it would no doubt terrify you as well.

A part of him longed to imbue himself into your every waking second in an absurd attempt to prolong the limited time you had. To a mortal, a few decades was plenty, but to a god, it would never suffice. Even if you were willing to let him, your life was not something for him to wring. The right thing to do would be to leave you be, let you continue thriving undisturbed. Perhaps he should distance himself to preserve what semblance of a platonic friendship he managed to achieve with you. He was not about to let your impression of him sour with these unpredictable complications.

This was truly a dilemma only a lovestruck god could have.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Bulbie

Debut: Pikmin

Pikmin 4 has a doggone good time being as doggy of a game as it can! I'm sure you are well aware by now of the new Funny Weird Dogs!

And I love these weird dogs! They are wonderful. I'm glad they are so important and beloved. But I would like to focus on a different dog, the very first Pikmin Dog, who we have known about since the very first game! Olimar's dog, Bulbie!

With this, I have shown you both official images of Bulbie that exist. I wish there were more! Bulbie is a dog even weirder than Oatchi and Moss, a whole different kind of critter that also happens to get called a dog. Isn't that great? These people have the concept of "dog", and so far we've only seen it used to refer to these funny bipeds! Olimar has no problem referring to both Bulbie and Moss as dogs, so I am led to believe that "dog" is more of a category of creature to these people, rather than a distinct species. Like how "mole" is a category of creature to us!

We know a precious little bit of Bulbie Lore. He is lazy, and able to sleep anywhere. He loves carrots. He farts a lot. That's about all we know. Awesome! Sure sounds like a Dog to me! And of course, Olimar loves Bulbie very much. Just like he loves his whole family! He is a Family Guy, complete with Funny Dog!

You may already know, or you may have noticed yourself, but Bulbie looks quite like a Bulborb. This is because Olimar named these creatures after Bulbie, due to their resemblance! It is also for this reason that they are members of the Grub-Dog Family. You see? Bulborb is just like a dog! While it is sweet of Olimar to name the species after Bulbie, it must also make his encounters with them even more disturbing. Not only is this a (comparatively) massive, hostile beast that could easily eat him whole, but it looks like his beloved little friend! That's like a nightmare! Especially with other, scarier Bulborb variants! I am happy to know that his Bulborb experiences do not affect his love for Bulbie one bit.

As much as I love and talk about invertebrates and funny fish, dogs have always been among my favorite animals, and always will be! They're an extremely conventional animal to love, and for very good reason. They're wonderful! And on this post about Weird Dogs, I would like to talk about how dogs are, in fact, weird in their own ways.

They're always sniffing with their wet noses, which they keep wet to smell even better. They love to lick, and lick to show love. And that love is such an important thing! Dogs are creatures of love! It is our love for dogs that shaped them into what they are today! It is what drove us to shape this single subspecies into countless distinct caricatures of its noble ancestors. All still members of the very same species! The amount of dog customization that has occurred is ridiculous. Need a better way to hunt badgers? Make a Long Dog. Yeah sure! Why not!

Obviously, most dachshund owners today aren't interested in hunting badgers. They are interested in having a Pet. And a Pet Dog is such a truly incredible thing! There are not many animals that should be kept in a house around humans, but then there is Dog, literally born to be among humans. Born to be loved, and born to love! If you don't think that's one of the most wonderful things ever then get outta here!

This is an animal that runs around and spins in circles because it sees an ape that it loves so much. An animal that ends up learning snippets of human language, because those are the snippets that make it happy. An animal that gleefully exposes its vulnerable underside, because it trusts a member of a different species to rub it in just the right way that feels so nice.

Even with the general consensus on dogs being pretty dang favorable, I feel that it's easy to take a lot of their behavior and history for granted, to see them as the "default animal", when they SO aren't. The default animal would be a parasitoid wasp, silly!

If I was not able to convince you that dogs are weird, then just look up canine transmissible venereal tumor, obviously using your own discretion, because there will be graphic photos. If you ask me, this one medical anomaly easily makes dogs a contender for one of the weirdest animals EVER! Bet you didn't know dogs could be contagious!

I like funny dog Bulbie

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 14

Chapter Summary: Nancy and Robin take a shot in the dark and Steve tries to protect you from the supernatural. When the darkness comes to get you, will his love be enough to protect you?

Content Warning: Upside Down scary stuff, swearing

Word Count: 6.0k

Author’s Note: Sorry this chapter took longer; I’m involved in a lot at college and I’m in some executive positions in the organizations I’m a part of and somehow everything is going wrong at the same time (yay!) so I’ve been putting out a lot of fires (like a girl boss of course). I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Message me to be added to the taglist and get updated when the next chapter is posted!

Series Masterlist | Part 13 | Next Part

***

“Do you guys understand any of this?” Steve asked Lucas and Dustin as the three of them sat in the Wheelers’ basement. He was staring at the words on the article Nancy and Robin had found and none of it was making any sense to him. He was scared. Not knowing what was going to happen to you and when was tearing him apart and he needed to understand so that he could find some way to fix it. To protect you.

To save you.

A chill ran down his spine as he thought about it. He thought back to the way you had stood there, locked inside your own body and twitching slightly as you were trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake you from. He thought back to your activities afterwards. How you felt when he had shown you just how much he loved you. The way your body moved against his. He thought about how you were all he ever wanted—no, needed—and he couldn’t bear the thought of living a life without you in it.

“It’s pretty straightforward,” Dustin stared at him judgmentally.

“Oh, ‘straightforward’? Really?” Steve asked, not adoring the condescension in the freshman’s tone.

“So far, everyone Vecna has cursed has died, except for this old Victor Creel dude that Nancy found. He’s the only known survivor. If anyone knows how to beat this curse, it’s him,” Dustin explained. Steve could see a glint of optimism in the young boy’s eyes and he desperately wished he felt the same way. This situation just felt so hopeless though. How the fuck were they supposed to combat an otherworldly threat when the attacks were occurring cross-dimensionally?

“That’s assuming he was even cursed, Henderson, which we just don’t know,” Steve spat back, frustrated with the lack of answers. “How could Vecna have existed in the 50s? It just doesn’t make sense.”

Steve dragged a hand down his face in an attempt to keep his frustration at bay. He snapped his head up when he heard your voice lilt down the stairs, getting closer as you descended them.

“As far as we know, Eleven didn’t create the Upside Down; she just opened a gate to it,” you specified as you joined the group. Steve was quick to throw an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. Now that you knew that your time may be limited, Steve was extremely touchy. It was as if he thought that holding onto you would prevent another vision. You knew better, but still leaned into him, soaking up the comfort of his affection. You flushed as you remembered your activities from last night, desperately wishing that you had more time so that you could have more nights wrapped up in each other’s presence.

“Yeah, the Upside Down has probably existed for thousands of years…millions even. I wouldn’t be surprised if it predated the dinosaurs,” Dustin hypothesized, and you glanced over to see Lucas roll his eyes a bit. You couldn’t help but chuckle. Even at the end of the world, those kids could still make you laugh.

“Dinosaurs? What are we even talking about? Come on Dustin, you can’t just—“ Steve started but Lucas cut him off to refocus the conversation.

“Okay, but if there wasn’t a gate in the 50s, how did Vecna get through? How is he getting through now?”

“And why now?” You added.

“And why then? What he just pops out in the 50s, kills one family and he’s like, ‘I’m good’ just to come back thirty years later to kill some random teens? No offense,” Steve quickly added the last part turning to you as you glared up at him. You rolled your eyes and pulled away from him a bit before reaching into your back pocket.

“I almost forgot,” you said, fishing three sealed envelopes out of your back pocket. “These are for you guys.”

You handed them the envelopes. Steve furrowed his brows as he looked at you confused, studying the sealed letter in his hand. Dustin began to open it but you stopped him quickly. “No! What are you doing? That’s not for now. Don’t open it now!”

“Okay,” Dustin replied confused, stopping his previous movements. “I’m sorry, but what is this?” He held up the envelope and waved it slightly to emphasize his question.

“It’s…it’s a fail-safe,” you answered, your voice small. You caught Steve’s expression fall as you said it and you felt your heart ache in your chest as you thought about how you wouldn’t be able to be there for him to help him grieve. You felt a pang of guilt as you realized you would be the one causing his pain. “For after…you know, if things don’t work out.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, y/n?” Steve took a step towards you and grabbed your hand.

“Steve,” you looked him in the eyes, a pained expression across your face. Before he could continue arguing with you, Nancy, Robin, and Max bounded down the stairs. You all turned your attention towards the girls as Nancy opened her mouth to speak.

“Okay…we have a plan,” she smiled at all of you and suddenly you felt a feeling in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a while:

Hope.

You all quickly moved to sit on the various couches in the basement, Steve sitting next to you with a hand on your thigh as you listened to Nancy’s game plan.

“Than’s to Nancy’s newspaper minions, we are now rockstar psychology students at the University of Notre Dame,” Robin started, handing you and Steve each a folder containing the fraudulent academic files for one Ruth and Rose.

“Nice GPA,” you smirked, looking at Nancy and she smiled back at you. It felt nice to be optimistic for once.

“So we called Pennhurst Asylum, told them we’d like to speak with Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics—“ Nancy continued, but Max cut her off, having been there for the whole conversation.

“To which they said no,” the redhead explained.

“But, we landed a three o’clock with the director. Now all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor,” Robin added on.

“Yeah, we’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework,” Steve started, holding up the article printout, “We’ve got a lot of questions.”

“A lot,” Lucas emphasized.

“So do we. Hopefully Victor has the answers,” Nancy answered.

“Wait a second,” you spoke up, staring down at the file folder in your hand. “Where’s mine?”

“What?” Nancy’s face scrunched up, clearly confused by your question.

“I said, where’s mine?” You repeated yourself, holding up the file folder, your jaw beginning to set as you realized you weren’t being included.

“You’re not going,” Nancy replied, reaching over to grab the file from you.

“I think the fuck I am!” You stood up quickly, pulling the folder out of her reach. Steve quickly grabbed you by your belt loop, rolling his eyes and tugging you back down to sit next to him. You sat in a huff and he quickly pulled the folder away from you. “Hey!”

“Y/n, you’re not going. End of discussion,” he said plainly, handing the folder back to Nancy.

“I can’t do anything here Nancy! Maybe I could help with this asylum director guy….or-or-or I could ask Victor the right questions; I know what it’s like after all,” you defended yourself, but you could tell by the looks you were getting that no one was going to change their mind. Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but Robin spoke up before she could get a word out.

“Look, y/n. It’s too dangerous. Just let us do the heavy lifting, and you stay here where it’s safe.”

“Nowhere is safe, Robin. It doesn’t make a damn difference where the fuck I am,” you spat. Robin’s heart sank at your words because they were true; it didn’t really matter where you were. Vecna would find you regardless.

“Y/n, if you won’t do it for yourself, would you do it for me?” Steve spoke up. The expression on his face made you break, letting out an angry puff of air before you responded.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, quickly standing up and going upstairs. Your eyes were welling with tears and you didn’t want everyone to see you in your vulnerable state, even if it was completely understandable. Steve started to stand to go after you, but Dustin stopped him.

“Just, let me try and handle this,” the boy spoke up. Steve wasn’t sure why he was letting him, but shrugged. He knew how much you cared about the kids, especially Henderson, so it was worth a shot at least.

“Y/n?” Dustin asked after he had ascended the staircase. He caught sight of you wiping tears from your eyes before you were able to turn away and hide it.

“What do you want Dustin?” You asked, your voice sounding watery as you continued to cry, a small sob escaping your body.

“We’re doing everything we can,” he started, “and I know it doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s the best we can do. And I know you want to be in on all of the action, but I think it’s okay for you to take the backseat on this one.”

“I can’t just sit around here doing nothing,” you cried out, still trying to gain your composure as you turned around, wiping at the tears falling down your face. “I mean, I just…I just want to be out there so-so I can fix it. I don’t want any of you guys getting hurt,” you added, trying to swallow the lump in your throat as you looked at Dustin.

“Then stay here and protect us. Okay? You’ve always done a kick-ass job at it, so be here for us now. The most important thing is that when all is said and done, you’re still here. So let Nancy and Robin sort it out because I know they will. We all will,” Dustin reassured you. You walked over to the boy and pulled him into a tight hug. You still felt guilty about the way he had to grow up so fast, fighting unimaginable horrors while trying to figure out who he was and where he fit in. You couldn’t even imagine what that would have been like at his age.

With the pang in your chest, you felt pain return to your head, groaning as you let go of Dustin and put a hand to your temples. You felt something warm trickle from your nose, reaching up to wipe at it, fresh blood smearing across the back of your hand.

“Y/n, are-are you okay?” Dustin stared up at you, wide-eyed and frantic. You took a deep breath and the pain subsided a little, as you nodded at the boy.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” You replied, giving him a weak smile in an attempt to hide the many ways you were not in fact okay.

You tried to take your own words to heart as the two of you made your way back down to the basement.

I’m still here.

***

Nancy and Robin had gone off to go try and talk to Victor Creel, leaving you, Steve, Lucas, Dustin, and Max to twiddle your thumbs in the Wheelers’ basement while you waited for answers that likely weren’t coming. You were sat next to Steve and he was running his warm hand in circles across your back as you sat there, head in your hands and foot anxiously tapping.

You were restless. You couldn’t sit here doing nothing; you had loose ends to tie up in case Nancy and Robin’s investigation didn’t turn up roses. You needed to make sure you were ready to leave this world behind, and presently you weren’t.

Suddenly you stood up, causing Steve to jump as he had zoned out, his thoughts drifting elsewhere before your sudden movement had brought him back to the present. You marched across the room and picked up Dustin’s walkie.

“If we go to East Hawkins, will this still reach Pennhurst?” You asked, inspecting the gadget in your hand.

“Of course, yeah,” Dustin replied.

“Woah, why are we talking about East Hawkins?” Steve stood up, taking a slow step towards you. He looked concerned and confused; a brutal combination. You gave him a look that immediately had his anxiety skyrocketing. “No…no! Absolutely not!”

You paused, you and Steve staring each other down as if you were about to have a shootout in an old western movie. Much like reaching for the draw, you slowly reached into your pocked, grabbing the contents before lifting your hand up and dangling Steve’s car keys in between you. His mouth gaped open, his mind not quick enough to process what was happening before you grabbed your backpack off a folding chair and bolted up the stairs.

Steve stood frozen for a second, in disbelief that any of this could really be real before darting after you. “Y/n! Y/n, come back here! I’m serious!”

It didn’t do much to stop you, seeing as you were already out the door quickly pacing towards the familiar BMW. “Y/n…Y/n! Seriously, I’m not fucking joking. I’m not driving you anywhere!” Steve shouted after you as he started to catch up.

“Steve, if you think I’m going to spend what might possibly be the last day of my fucking life in the armpit that is Mike Wheeler’s basement, then you’re out of your mind,” you shot back, still sauntering towards the car. If your life wasn’t in jeopardy, Steve would have thought it was hot; the swish of your hips, the way your hair bounced with each assertive step you took, the way your jeans hugged your ass. But now was not the time to get distracted.

“I don’t think you heard me, y/n. I’m not fucking driving you.”

“Oh I heard you loud and clear, Harrington. But if you won’t drive me, then I guess I’ll have to drive myself,” you said, unlocking the driver’s side door to Steve’s car.

“Um, fuck no!” Steve exclaimed, putting a hand on his car door to hold it shut as you attempted to open it. You whipped around, your eyes shooting daggers at your boyfriend. His face was mere inches away from yours as he leaned on his arm, his bodyweight keeping the door shut tight. You continued to stare into his eyes, your stern expression causing his to break as he sighed and relented, dropping his arm in exasperation. “Fine. But I’m driving.”

You tossed him the keys as you smirked, walking around the car as you eagerly hopped into the passenger seat.

“That was kind of wild,” Lucas mumbled to Dustin and Max who all stood dumbfounded by the encounter between the two of you.

“Yeah, she’s got him wrapped around her finger,” Max chuckled, “good for her.”

The three kids piled into the backseat of Steve’s car and Steve drove off after making sure everyone was appropriately buckled. The radio that was usually always on remained silent, no one really in the mood to listen to whatever overplayed tune was undoubtedly being broadcasted across your small town. You navigated, hesitant to tell Steve where you actually needed to go. You could tell he was nervous, his right hand reaching across the center console to squeeze your upper thigh, needing to hold onto you.

After you had spent a decent amount of time driving, you finally saw the sign you’d been looking for. “Turn here,” you spoke up, clearing your throat uncomfortably as you said it. Steve looked at you questioningly but followed your instructions, slowly turning into the Roane Hill Cemetery.

“I’ll just be a minute,” you assured Steve as you began to unbuckle to get out of the car. He gently grabbed your elbow, stopping your all fire hurry to exit the vehicle. “Steve—“

“Y/n, I get it. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay? We all are. You don’t have to go through this alone,” he spoke gently. You turned over your shoulder and saw the sincerity in everyone’s eyes.

“This,” you replied, looking out the car window up the small hill of the cemetery, “this is something I have to do alone.”

Steve nodded, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before letting go and looking at you with sympathy as you began making your way towards the clearing at the top of the hill. When you made it to the top, you took a deep breath as you read the name on the gravestone. Jim Hopper.

You hadn’t interacted much with Hawkins’ Chief of Police much before the Upside Down had entered your life. In fact, though you knew he was an effective cop, you wrote him off as an egotistical asshole, rolling your eyes at his usually irritating antics. However, after all that you had been through together, he became the kind of person you wanted to emulate. He did the best that he could to protect all of you kids. He would do anything to make sure you were all safe. He’d even given his life for it; the ultimate sacrifice.

He was truly a hero. But now he was gone, nothing left of him besides the grave in this cemetery and the memories in your heart. You felt guilt tear through your chest as you noticed that the flowers you had left the last time you came had began to wither and wilt.

“I don’t really know what to say,” you started off, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t fix any of this. I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep the kids safe like I should’ve. I’m sorry that you can’t be there for El. I’m sorry that you didn’t get to see her grow up…that-that you don’t get to see her smile anymore. Every time I keep telling myself that all of this is over. I-I keep lying to myself and acting like everything is fine and that I’m happy and that everything is going to turn out alright, but I think deep down I know that it isn’t going to be.”

Tears began to stream down your face. “We all deserved to have these normal lives that we always pretend to have, you know? Those kids deserve to have normal lives. They shouldn’t have to worry about monsters underneath their feet and alternate dimensions that want to do them harm. They deserve to have the kind of lives that you wanted them to have, and I’m sorry I couldn’t make that happen Hopper. This all just feels like one big mistake…or-or a nightmare I can’t wake up from. And I feel guilty every time I look at Steve and my heart lets me feel lucky for even just a fraction of a second because if anything is true, we are not fucking lucky.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you wiped your nose on the back of your sleeve, breathing in a shaky breath as you tried to fight the sobs that your body desperately needed to let out. You felt guilty admitting it, but the happiness in your relationship with Steve did scare you. You didn’t deserve to be happy; you were sure of it.

When you opened your eyes, your heart stopped in your chest. The clear skies that had been there once before were now overcast as fog poured around you into the cemetery. You heard distorted laughter that sounded like it came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. A chill ran down your spine as you heard a voice ring out.

“Y/n.”

***

Steve looked up the hill towards you. You were still sitting in front of a gravestone and you looked okay enough, but Steve didn’t trust any of it. He had a bad feeling deep within his gut, and he began to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Alright, it’s been long enough.”

“Steve, just give her some time,” Max spoke up. She knew that you were going through some things and knew you needed the space.

“I have, alright Mayfield? I’m calling it. If she wants to be mad at me, she can be fucking mad at me,” he grumbled as he slammed the car door shut, making his way up the hill. Cemeteries always made him feel uneasy, but he was confident that the pit in his stomach was unrelated as he swiftly jogged up the hill towards you.

“Y/n, baby? It’s time to go, alright? I know it’s hard, but we really need to get—“ Steve’s words died on his tongue as he saw you sitting there, unresponsive. Your eyes were rolled in the back of your head and blood began dripping down your nose.

“Y/n? Y/n! No, no, no, baby wake up! Wake up, y/n, you’re scaring me,” Steve’s words were short and shaky as he quickly went to wipe your nose, his first instinct being to take care of you. “Guys!”

Steve yelled down the hill and the three kids came running. Steve continued to shake you, watching as your body jolted around but you stayed catatonic, somewhere else in the moment, no doubt in some terror filled nightmare. A far off whimper escaped your lips and if Steve wasn’t already losing it, he would’ve lost it right then and there.

“Y/n! Please wake up!” Max shouted, snapping in front of your eyes, hoping it would draw them forward and alert, but they stayed rolled back in your head, eyelids twitching and fluttering.

“Come on, y/n. Get out of there!” Lucas yelled, beginning to shake your shoulders too. Steve turned towards Dustin, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“Call Nancy and Robin! Just go! Call Nancy and Robin!” He shoved the boy, and he fell backwards, tumbling over as he scrambled to make his way back to the car. He had never seen Steve so desperate before and they had been through a lot together. Dustin felt his blood run cold. This was life or death.

“Y/n, come on baby. I love you, please come back to me!” Steve cried out, squeezing your hand in his, hoping that wherever you were that you could hear him somehow. “Think of all the things we haven’t gotten to do together yet…I mean, we-we have a whole life ahead of us! I want to do it all with you, but you have to come back to me.”

His voice cracked, and when you didn’t respond he began shaking your shoulders again, feeling sick to his stomach at the way your head lolled in every which way, your neck unable to support the weight of it. Your nose continued to bleed and your limbs were twitching. He could see your neck straining and it reminded him of the way you looked as you tried to breathe through a panic attack.

“Y/n! You gotta get out of there!” Lucas shouted.

“Y/n! Please! You’ve got this, come on!” Max chimed in.

Dustin finally came bounding up the hill, dropping Max’s walkman and a bunch of cassettes in front of them that he had dug out of Steve’s glovebox. “Steve! What’s her favorite song?!”

“Why?” Lucas asked, panic radiating from his voice.

“It’s too much to explain right now! What’s her favorite song?!” Dustin screamed.

Steve didn’t need to be told twice, rifling through the tapes until he found the one with a label and his shitty handwriting on it. His hands were shaking as he fumbled the cassette, shoving it into the walkman before quickly and haphazardly placing the headphones over your ears. His hands trailed to either side of your face as he looked at you, his eyes frantically searching your face, hoping that whatever fix Dustin seemed to think he found would be instantaneous.

The cassette tape had all of the songs you guys would belt out in the car when they played on the radio. He loved hearing you sing off key to the songs and the way you’d dance in the passenger seat making faces to fit the lyrics of the songs. He had finally decided he couldn’t wait around for the radio to play all of your favorites, desperately wanting to watch you dance every time he had a chance to, so he made you a mixtape with all your favorites. He was saving it to give you for your first anniversary, which was now four months away. But after all, in this situation, it was either early or never, so he pressed play and Running up that Hill by Kate Bush began to blare through the headphones.

It had been a second and nothing was happening. Your eyes were still rolled in the back of your head and you were still twitching. “It’s not working Dustin!” Steve shouted, his hands falling from your face as he turned towards the Henderson boy. No sooner had he lost contact with you did your body begin to lift off of the ground, your legs coming uncrossed as you levitated out of reach from your friends down below.

“No! Y/n!” Steve shouted. He wished he hadn’t let you go. Maybe if he hadn’t he could have kept whatever was about to happen from happening. He thought back to all of the horrors Eddie had described and he began to hyperventilate. He couldn’t watch that happen to you. You were his everything.

In your nightmare, you were tied up by vines, pressed against some sort of pillar staring straight at Vecna. He kept insisting you belonged there, reminding you of how much danger you put the kids in. You deserved to stay here in this dark and dreary hellscape. You had seen Chrissy and Fred and you felt like you could vomit thinking about your body being contorted in the same way.

“Let me go!” You choked out, hardly able to speak with the vine around your throat cutting off your access to oxygen. Suddenly you heard something familiar as a melody drifted towards your ears, building slowly in the background until the music swelled and nearly became all that you could hear. You turned ever so slightly to your left and saw a glimpse into the real world. Your heart stopped as you watched your boyfriend desperately calling your name, your body hovering several feet above his head.

“They can’t help you, y/n,” Vecna assured you, his crooked hand coming up towards your face.

“You’re wrong,” you choked out and suddenly the vine behind you snapped and you fell forward, breaking out into a sprint towards the tunnel of reality just out of reach. You tried to keep your footing, but you slipped several times on thick red pools of blood, the sticky liquid soaking into your clothes. You tried to ignore it as you continued to sprint. Your legs kept wanting to give up, but you just kept thinking about all you had left to live for and channeled that into your sprint.

You thought about Steve and the life you wanted to build together. You thought about the way you knocked on his door that fateful day. You thought about the way he let you in even though he didn’t have to; the way he changed for you, the way he tried every day to be better for you. You thought about the jokes he told that made you laugh so hard you cried and the way he’d carry you up the stairs when you fell asleep on the couch. You thought about the kisses he’d pepper across your skin whenever he had the chance to. You thought about the way you felt when you were wrapped up in him the night before and how you didn’t want your first time to be the last time. You thought about the way his brown eyes stared into yours, the way they said so much without him ever having to open his mouth.

You were going to look into those eyes again. So you sprinted. Past falling debris, through rough terrain, and towards him.

Towards home.

Your eyes peeled open and you gasped, staring at the tree line in a way you’d never seen it before. Your stomach dropped as you began falling to the ground, plummeting back towards earth. You hit the ground hard, and you were hyperventilating as everyone immediately surrounded you. Steve pushed past the kids and wrapped his arms around you, clinging to you as if you’d disappear again.

“Y/n! I thought I lost you!” Steve cried out as he placed a frantic kiss against your lips. He pulled back to look at you for a second, fear and panic across his face before he leaned in and kissed you again. You were his oxygen and he needed you to breathe right now.

You pulled away, gripping his bicep as you attempted to calm down your breathing. “I’m still…I’m still here,” you reassured him, tears falling from your eyes.

He was quick to wipe them away before he buried his face in your neck, taking a deep breath as he reveled in the comfort of your familiar scent. He placed a gentle kiss against your neck and pulled you towards him even tighter.

You were still here, and he wasn’t going to let anything like that happen ever again.

***

You all had spent the night at the Wheelers’ again, deciding now more than ever it was vital to stick together. Nancy had had to fight Steve to get him to sleep, convincing him that the rest of you were more than capable of taking turns watching you to make sure that you were okay.

“Dustin…Earth to Dustin,” Eddie’s voice rang out over the walkie talkie. Steve groaned as he woke up. He was sore from the way that his body was positioned in the chair he had been sleeping in. He grabbed the walkie off of the coffee table, pressing down the button to speak into it.

“What the fuck do you want Munson?” Steve spat.

“Oh, Harrington. Um, I’m going to need a food delivery, unless you want me going out into the world.”

“Don’t fucking do that. Just stay where you are and we’ll be there as soon as we can” Steve grumbled, sighing as he aggressively went to set the walkie back down, but Eddie’s voice rang out again.

“Hey, can you pick me up a six-pack? I know it’s dumb to be drinking right now, but a cold beer would really cool my nerves you know?”

As Eddie said it, Steve rolled his eyes, turning back towards the couch you were sleeping on, needing to remind himself of your constant kindness to calm himself down. It had the opposite effect when he saw the empty space, you being nowhere to be found.

“I’m gonna have to call you back,” Steve quickly relayed to Eddie before dropping the walkie talkie and bounding across the basement to wake up Dustin. “Dipshit! What the fuck?! You’re supposed to be watching y/n!” Steve spat as the boy finally opened his eyes.

“Yeah…yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Where the fuck is she?!”

“She’s right there,” Dustin started, but his heart dropped as he looked over and saw that you were gone, “she was right there a second ago. I just dozed off for…an hour.”

His eyes got wide as he looked at his watch and the two boys bounded up the stairs. Steve finally cooled off when he saw you sitting at the kitchen table with Holly. You were helping her color a coloring book page, stopping every once in a while to help her cut her pancake. Steve felt his heart skip at how domestic and maternal you looked, hoping you would all get past this so that he could have the future with you that he envisioned, with perfect little combinations of the two of you sitting at your own kitchen table.

“Everything okay?” Mrs. Wheeler asked. Steve just nodded making his way towards the kitchen table. Nancy had woken up when the boys had not so quietly ascended the stairs and she was rubbing her eyes as she also made her way to the kitchen.

“I think it’s so sweet that you guys are sticking together like this,” Mrs. Wheeler continued, pulling Nancy into a very stiff and awkward side hug that she did not reciprocate.

“You could try sticking together at a different house for a change,” Mr. Wheeler chimed in, not even looking up from his newspaper.

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve asked, sitting down next to you, his hand going to the small of your back.

“Yeah,” you gave him a weak smile. “It’s just kind of hard to sleep after…everything.” You chose your words carefully so as to not let Nancy’s parents in on the reality of the absurdity that was your life. “But Holly let me borrow some of her crayons and we’ve been having a fun morning.”

You smiled at the small girl and Steve felt his heart explode. Nancy stood next to you and spoke up. “Is this what you saw last night? Do you think he’s just trying to scare you?”

“Yeah, but this stuff is different,” you said, gesturing to the drawings in front of you. “I don’t think he wanted me to see any of this.”

“Maybe you invaded his mind,” Dustin suggested, “I mean, that’s what he’s been doing to you, is it that big of leap to suggest that somehow you wound up in his?”

“Yeah, maybe the answer’s somewhere in this incredibly…vague drawing,” Steve added on, holding up a piece of paper and rotating it. “Damn, we need Will.”

“I know, but I tried them again this morning and it’s the same busy signal,” you replied, putting your head in your hands.

Nancy suddenly started reorganizing the papers, folding them and overlapping them until they made an image that made some semblance of sense.

“It’s…it’s a house,” you spoke breathlessly. You weren’t sure how you had managed to draw a deconstructed house considering you weren’t even close to being an artist, but hey accidental accomplishments are accomplishments nonetheless.

“Not just any house,” Nancy looked at you wide eyed. “It’s Victor Creel’s house.”

You shuddered as Nancy and Dustin quickly moved downstairs to tell the others about their discovery. You got up and moved the other way towards the Wheelers’ family room, desperately needing to remove yourself from the oblivious remainder of the Wheelers that were in the kitchen. Steve quickly followed you, gently grabbing your hand as he spoke up.

“Hey, baby…what’s wrong?”

“Steve, I just don’t have a good feeling about this,” anxiety was etched across your face as you said it. He squeezed your hand and pulled you towards him.

“I know, y/n. But answers are good…that means we’re getting somewhere,” he reminded you.

“But that’s the thing,” you started, “just because we’re getting somewhere doesn’t mean it’s anywhere good. Vecna’s smart, he knows what he’s doing. I mean, what….what-what if we’re walking into a trap! What if this is exactly what he wants us to do? We can’t keep just following every thread he gives us. He’s weaving a web, Steve. And if we’re not careful, we’re all going to end up getting caught in it.”

“We have to try though, right? We can’t just give up or else we’re putting everyone—not just us—everyone in jeopardy,” he tried to appeal to your selflessness and world-saving tendencies, but really deep down, he only wanted to follow this thread because it meant they had a shot at saving you.

He dropped your hand, holding his up between the two of you, and you were met with the familiar sight of his extended pinky.

“To saving the world?” He asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Your face relaxed for a moment, your lips breaking into a small smile.

“To saving the world,” you agreed as you wrapped your pinky around his before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

You didn’t like where this was headed, but you could at least give it your best shot. If it meant that you and Steve could have more pinky promises and more soft kisses, then it would be worth it.

You just hoped that it wouldn’t ruin you in the process.

***

a/n: I hope y’all enjoyed the chapter. Reblog to give me a much needed boost of serotonin ;)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @maeve-wileyy @palachannie @chaerfull @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek @daemonskitty @bethsvrse @aheadfullofsteverogers @quinnsadilla @chervbs @sheisjoeschateau @goosy-goose

[imissivan]

the thing is that no one ever taught ivan how to love. no one really taught ivan what love is, even—how to give it, when to hold it back, how to take it, and what it felt like to be cherished and valued and loved, loved, loved. can he be blamed for going about it in all the wrong ways?

on the other hand, till has never not been loved. he’s been hated, abused, dehumanized, put through horror after horror. but through it all, from life to—from birth, love always found its way to him. but he didn’t exactly have the words for it, either. didn’t have the words to express his own love, actually. so used to receiving it, his only way of giving it back was through song. sharing his happiness. it’s not his fault that he couldn’t see how that might never occur to someone to do, who had never experienced real happiness before.

still, love is the most human thing of all. even in the blackest of sorrows, it will find a way.

read this on AO3 — WE AREN’T HEROES —

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61117030

ivan leaned back against the plush couch he was sitting on, affecting coolness, calmness. it wouldn’t do to let the aliens surrounding him on all sides know of any emotional turmoil beneath his mask—it would be a weakness for them to exploit, a new and crueler show to force ivan to dance to, or simply upset their celebratory atmosphere and result in punishment. or worse, they’d send him home, leaving till here by himself.

pretending to smile and laugh at something said to the group formed around him, ivan shifted position, sweeping his gaze across the large and segmented party room, looking for till. he wasn’t dealing with mitzi’s disappearance well, nor sua’s—the four of them weren’t confidantes, but they were constant companions in the garden. rather, they had been. till was sitting quietly, a concept that clashed desperately with the furious wreck of energy and emotion that ivan knew till to be. till was sitting quietly at a table next to his owner, a foul mouthed alien whose cruelty was matched only by his wealth. painful circles were carved beneath his eyes. till usually looked sleepless, but it also usually contrasted against a bright burning of life in his eyes, spite and music and hope. but his eyes were lifeless. dim. and it revealed just how beaten and abused his body really was.

he looked like an entirely different person to his stage portrait—and every time ivan saw it, he felt sick. he thought of all the nights he’d crawled into till’s medical bed, held his hand as he slept in fits and starts, yanking out of sleep with sharp jerks and flinching away from ivan every time he awoke, until till recognized ivan’s face, and relaxed again. ivan stayed awake, eyes unblinking, watching to make sure till would not be spirited away in the night. and just watching. he couldn’t explain why, but something about till was just so deeply fascinating to ivan. till was attractive, yes, and ivan would call him beautiful, actually, especially when he was sparkin’ mad or embarrassed. but the aliens tired of beauty quickly. faster and faster all the time. and anyway, would ivan feel so protective of a particularly gorgeous piece of art?

till stared blankly into the plate of food set in front of him, and ivan’s hand twitched into a fist. he was so close, maybe if ivan excused himself to the bathroom, he could just brush his fingertips across till’s shoulders—anything, anything to banish the deathly stillness ivan was watching now.

a loud bang of a hand, much larger and with more digits than ivan’s, slammed the couch next to ivan’s leg. “[you are not paying attention!]” the alien snapped several times in front of ivan’s face. “[do not make me get the rod, and ruin the party for my guests.]���

another alien, with long drooping antennae sprouting where a human’s hair might grow, placed a hand on the first’s arm and purred, “[such a thing can be entertaining on its own, actually. have you heard of—]”

across the way, till’s alien yanked on his collar. till almost fell out of his chair, catching himself only at the last second. till’s alien gestured to the stage, and another yanked till to his feet, then shoved him up to the microphone. the music started, and a selfish part of ivan was almost excited to hear till sing (he always wanted to hear till singing) (a sound beaten only by till’s laughter, a throaty, obnoxious sound that came all too rarely). ivan tensed. till looked so far away, so glazed over. his cue to begin singing came and went. he only stared at the microphone.

till’s alien went fast to violence. never one for patience. grabbing till by the face. forcing him down. ivan was standing, was taking faltering half-steps towards till. what could he do? what could he do? wracking his brain in desperation. clicks and hisses of irritation from the aliens he was meant to be entertaining.

then till snapped. reared back. launched himself at his alien. a sound of shattering glass—till had a bottle in his hand. was using it to beat his alien bloody. thud after thud.

ivan was terrified, angry. with who, for what, he couldn’t say.

chaos. guests surged away as bodyguards and other pet owners surged forward, eager to please, eager to demonstrate their own training prowess. ivan moved to get closer, unsure of what to do, but just listening to an animal instinct that said as long as ivan kept his eyes on him, till would be fine. so long as ivan kept till in his sights, it would all be okay. (never mind that this had not stopped them from both being drafted for this season.)

ivan’s own alien was not at the party, so it was the one with the fleshy hands that assumed responsibility for human pet Ivan. it grabbed a thick handful of ivan’s hair and yanked him backward. ivan resisted by instinct, scalp burning. there was yelling in his face, painful in his ears. he ignored it, trying to see what they were doing to till. there was a human yelp, an involuntary sound of pain, and then several sick thuds. ivan’s guest kicked at ivan’s legs, forcing him to the ground with a bang against his knees that would surely bruise.

he gave in. he crouched and raised his hands in front of him, showing he was cooperative, he was nonviolent, he was a good little human pet, wasn’t he? his heart twisting the whole time. he couldn’t see till, but he could hear. the whole thing, he could hear with crystal clarity.

when it was over, the pets were all shuffled out of the party, maybe as a punishment, maybe for security, maybe as a reminder that they were kept around only for entertainment and little else. all of them but till. as ivan limped—slightly, only slightly—past the opulence of the aliens’ banquet, he saw till slumped on the ground next to his alien, the creature’s hand in till’s hair, possessive and dominant.

ivan could do nothing but continue limping out of the party. sick to his stomach with his own helplessness, and angry at till for giving up on his own life so easily.

hours and hours later, ivan finally found him. till was passed out in the same place, the same position, and leaning against the sofa next to him, still on the floor. bruises of deep mariner blue and sunset purple had already formed along his jaw, a sight that made ivan’s heart stutter. what had he been thinking? years, they’d been doing this. what had made him snap this time?

ivan crouched beside till’s sleeping form and unlocked his muzzle with one small motion. till’s breaths were alarmingly shallow. ivan lightly, as gently as he could, brushed his fingers across the bruises. cold heat gathered in ivan’s head. useless, he’d been. useless, till was. just the same as mizi. just the same as sua (sua, who was dead now. who’d sacrificed her life for someone who was also never going to get out of this place alive) (sua, who ivan had felt contempt for, every time she shared a happy moment with mizi, planning the whole time to die for her).

ivan’s body suddenly felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. he put a hand against the wall to brace himself, leaning down more closely to till. even in his sleep, he looked troubled. no, he looked more animated than other people. than ivan, whose mask of ice wasn’t something he intended to wear. any amount of emotion on till’s face seemed obscene with ivan in the room.

till… was it thoughts of mizi that made him snap? had till even known that ivan was in the room with him, not fifteen feet away? what had sua been thinking, as she climbed the steps to the stage, as she greeted the person she cared for more than any other, knowing that only one of them would walk away? as she put in action her plan to be the one who fell, lifeless, and forced the other to live on with the pain of that loss?

what was ivan going to do tomorrow, when he was faced with the same?

they were too old now to sleep in the same bed, but ivan wished they could anyway. it would be their last night together, whoever won (whatever he decided). softly, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to till’s, breathing in his scent. his skin was rough, but ivan had always liked things with an edge.

in that half-caress, ivan let his eyes drift closed, and made his choice.

[yanderes-galore]

Hope it’s not to late to request platonic , obsessive yandere Toothless vs yandere light fury (or as I like to call her toothpastes XD) please , where both dragons fighting over a stranded Viking who somehow fell into the hidden world if possible. (Hcs /concept) 

Also hi happy holidays !

Sure I can! Here you go :)

Yandere! Toothless vs Yandere! Light Fury

Pairing: Platonic/Animal/Pet-like - Rivalry (Brief Sharing Mention)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Clingy behavior, Kidnapping (technically), Jealousy, Forced companionship.

I imagine how you ended up in the Hidden World was purely by accident.

You might have fallen into it from a dragon or boat or was in danger and saved by a dragon that lives there.

Either way now you're a human trapped here, confused, and scared of the hesitant dragons around you.

By this time Toothless and his mate are already "King/Queen of the dragons".

Toothless is a dragon already quite used to humans.

Which means he quickly notices you in danger from the other dragons who have never seen a human.

Your companionship starts with Toothless defending you due to seeing you as harmless.

Your scent is familiar to Hiccup's, you may even be from the same group.

There's no weapons on you and you're just as scared as the dragons around you.

It takes time but other dragons settle when their king defends you.

The Light Fury, whom I'll just call LF to keep her different, also appears curious of you.

After all... her mate has always had a way with humans.

As usual I imagine they'd be overprotective yanderes as not all dragons trust you.

Toothless insists that their new human stays near their nest for protection.

I imagine their rivalry doesn't start for a bit.

The two are more concerned with protecting you.

LF is curious about you, often sniffing you and cooing.

Toothless already trusts you due to your familiar scent.

In fact he misses Hiccup....

A rivalry between them is hard for me to think of as I can't really see them fighting all that much?

But maybe it occurs through arguments?

Like any pairing the two tend to bicker.

Maybe after these arguments one of them takes you away for a bit to have time with you, making the other jealous.

Although putting it that way makes it seems like they're fighting for custody over their human... which is a bit funny.

Even more so if I say this takes place before they have eggs together.

The logical thing to do would be to bring you home.

But why do that when they can keep you here with them?

They end up treating you like their kid at times.

Poor Hiccup has no idea where the hell you went if you knew him.

Meanwhile whenever your two dragon protectors have an argument they drag you off.

The two keep you fed and smother you in affection.

It feels less like they're your pets and more like you're there's.

You're happy they keep you safe... but you'd like to go home.

The two can come together when it comes to you at times.

Like if you tried to leave?

They'd order dragons to trap you here then drag you back to their nest.

Toothless tries to be comforting.

LF acts very nurturing.

However, you only want to go home.

Plus, you easily get tired when the two drag you off for their own time with you when they fight.

There isn't many physical fights over you but they certainly clash when they want to have private time with you.

You hope either Toothless comes to his senses or someone finds you...

You're beginning to miss human contact and are tired of the dragons fighting over you.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[8:02 pm]

(cw: very brief and vague mention of reader being naked)

One of your favorite things about Jaemin was how affectionate he was. Without a doubt every morning you'd be greeted with a kiss placed on your cheek and every night you'd go to sleep with his lips pressed to your forehead. It was very rare that you'd leave the house and not have him touching you in some way, hand holding, hand in your pocket, arm around your shoulder- something.

There were times that occurred very rarely where the affection turned the slightest bit... clingy. You'd never tell him but not having your own personal space could be overwhelming. Today was one of those days where the only alone time you'd had all day was earlier in the morning when you were brushing your teeth.

Right now you were trying to extract yourself from Jaemin's arms to get in the shower, he was whining, "I can join you."

"I won't even be long and you're watching your show," you reasoned.

"Jaemin," you whined exasperatedly, "please, my love. It won't take longer than 15 minutes."

He mumbled something about that being too long and his arms dropped, he was preparing to get down and beg you not to leave his side, but you used that opportunity to run to the bathroom.

You took a relieved breath standing under the warm stream of water. You were washing your hair when all of a sudden you heard, "Aren't you almost out of shampoo? Should I add it to the list?"

You froze, eyes snapping open. You peeked out from behind the shower curtain, catching sight of Jaemin sitting on the toilet with his phone out. He looked up and smiled brightly at you, "Did you like this scent or do you want to go back to your usual? I really like this one, but I like the old one too."

You took a deep breath to calm your heightened feelings of annoyance, "Jaemin, can I please have my shower time to myself?"

You probably shouldn't have been surprised, the longer your relationship went, the less personal time you'd have. This wasn't the first time he had decided to join your shower time without actually joining you in the shower. Sometimes he would sit on the counter or the toilet and ask you about work or gossip with you. You usually wouldn't mind, but today you were hoping for a simple shower alone.

Jaemin cried, "Do you hate me?! Is that what it is?!"

You laughed out loud before you could stop yourself, "Jaemin, why would I hate you?"

His head peeks into the shower and his eyes meet yours immediately. He's not even phased with your body being completely bare in front of him, and you love it. "Well, you ran away from me and you're depriving me of my cuddle time."

You place your hands on your hips, and raise an eyebrow at him, "Your cuddle time has been going on for over 10 hours now just today. Yesterday was another 14 hours, and that's not even including when we were asleep. As much as I love you, I need space to myself sometimes."

Jaemin clutched his chest dramatically, "Oh my god, my heart has just been ripped out of my chest and stomped all over my a crowd of people."

"Can you leave me now?" You asked softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

"Of course, baby," he answered quickly. He leaned further into the shower and placed a kiss on your mouth, not even bothered by the fact that he was getting wet.

You heard the door open and then, "I'm actually glad you're showering. I didn't want to say anything, but you were starting to get a little stinky."

"Get out!" You yelled.

"I love you!"

[captainthisshipinmyhead]

Secret Desires

Sanemi x Fem!Reader, Giyuu x Fem!Reader (p sure I used she/her pronouns at one point but I don't think I use any descriptors really, so it could be read as GN!Reader, just wanted to tag as fem just in case)

Shinazugawa hates Tomioka, everyone knows this. But nobody knows the real reason behind this animosity-- or that it mostly has to do with you.

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex (no smut), OOC Sanemi tbh, cold/emotionless Giyuu (I put that as a warning bc it pains me. Giyuu is my lil cinnamon bun sweetie I hate making him that way 😔), very little plot outside the romance stuff lol.

WC: 5,182

A/N: I'm not rlly a huge fan of like, music-based fics but I have to admit I thought about the idea for this one when a Panic! At the Disco song came on shuffle the other day. These lines listed below in particular from "She Had the World" inspired this. Enjoy. As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated but please be kind.

“When I look in her eyes, well I just see the sky”

“I don’t love you, I’m just passing the time”

         It was no secret to any of the hashira that Shinazugawa hated Tomioka with a passion. To the few of them that had asked about this animosity outright Shinazugawa had given some lame answers before, like that Tomioka appeared to think of himself as better than the other hashira (true), that Tomioka had defeated him in all their 1v1 training sessions due to some really bullshit happenings that occurred each time and it was annoying (true), and that Tomioka had killed one of Shinazugawa’s pet beetles (not true). Though these were the reasons he gave for having such a hatred for the Water Pillar, they weren’t the real reason why Shinazugawa couldn’t stand the guy. The real reason that he would probably never reveal out loud to anyone else was simple: you.

         You were indeed the reason for the one-sided hatred between the two hashira. You didn’t know this, of course, but Shinazugawa absolutely couldn’t stand the fact that Tomioka had you. Though he never intended on telling you this, Shinazugawa had feelings for you. Deep, deep feelings that he actively had to push down when you talked to him with your bright smile, telling him another one of your stories about the crazy happenings of your day. He was no stranger to envy and not getting things that he wanted in life, so it wasn’t just the fact that Tomioka had you, but that he didn’t care for you as he should.

This was another secret Sanemi held closely-- not because he didn’t want to tell you, but because didn’t know how. He had found out Tomioka’s true feelings because Tomioka had gotten careless after one stressful week with back to back missions and left his personal notebook out in a common dining space. The only person around at the time to find it was Shinazugawa. He normally wouldn’t care about the personal musings of a random person but given whose notebook it was, he couldn’t resist reading a few tidbits. His jaw fell open in rage when he saw the way Tomioka had written about you there—not necessarily as if he didn’t care for you at all, but he was very clear in the fact that he had no romantic feelings toward you whatsoever. He was very clear in his musings that you were his partner simply as a way for Tomioka to relieve stress, seek out affection, and boost his own ego.

When Shinezugawa read this, he was beyond pissed. He was absolutely outraged. How could he? How was it that Tomioka of all people got to have someone as kind as you and he didn’t value you the way that he should? He could’ve killed Tomioka with his bare hands in that moment, but he knew that you were at his estate now, visiting your partner for the evening, and he knew that you hated unnecessary violence and animosity between fellow demon slayers. In the moment, he decided to place the notebook back where he had found it, and go on a walk to calm his anger. He would deal with Tomioka in due time, some way that wouldn’t have you angry at the both of them.

         In the weeks following this discovery, Sanemi could not shake the rage that filled him at the sight of Tomioka. And don’t get him started on how it felt seeing the both of you together. When you approached Sanemi alone, which you often did as you enjoyed talking to the typically prickly Wind Pillar, he forced his emotions down so that he didn’t burst forth with the knowledge he had on your little boyfriend. You absolutely deserved to know, but if he were to be the one to tell you he wanted to do it without anger, only with empathy and understanding. The way that you should be treated. Sanemi valued you deeply, and he never wanted to hurt you. It was his own deep-rooted care for you that made this situation so anguishing. He knew that he could treat you better—so much better. If only he had gotten closer to you first, then maybe....

         He tried not to linger on the maybes. He didn’t want to be your friend with any conditions attached—he never thought of himself as the most emotionally intelligent person, but he at least knew that wasn’t fair. So he let it play out, because although Sanemi didn’t necessarily believe in karma, he did believe that the truth always comes to light.

         As far as your relationship went, you were comfortable in it. While there were things that maybe had you desiring more, you couldn’t say that you weren’t content with Tomioka so that was good enough for you. Really, what more could you ask for? Your boyfriend was strong, handsome, perceptive to your needs, and your intimacy together was consistent. Sure, Tomioka wasn’t the most outspoken about your relationship or on board with PDA—or, when you thought about it, any kind of physical affection-- but you really didn’t have any complaints. I mean, is your relationship really in the trenches if your boyfriend doesn’t show you off? No, that wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker.

         But when you saw other couples together, you felt an ache in your chest. You couldn’t help but compare your relationship to the sugary sweet ones around you. You saw others who held hands on public pathways, fingers intertwined, and imagined what it must feel like to be in love so freely where everyone could see. You saw the way these couples would sneak pecks on each others’ cheeks or foreheads, and the way that they would blush at the acts of affection, and you sighed internally. You heard whispered vows of devotion and love, and couldn’t help but think about how Tomioka never professed his love to you. Not verbally at least. I mean, he had to love you of course, you two had been together for the better part of a year. He just didn’t show it that often. He was just subtle. That’s what you told yourself. You had muttered the three words to him before, but you usually only did it in moments of passion, when you could play it off as being really into the moment if he questioned it. He didn’t, but all you got in response to your proclamations were grunts in your ear or hums that you hoped were agreement. But honestly, not hearing those words from him hurt your feelings. You wanted a deep love; one that your mind never questioned because it was always made so clear to you how much you were valued. You wanted it so badly you dreamed of it, but you weren’t willing to end things with Tomioka just over feeling a little pathetic at not publicly being affectionate with him or hearing three words. Other than those desires of yours, you guys were perfectly fine, really.

         It only took about a month before the guilt and rage began chipping away at Sanemi’s resolve. He had to tell someone, even if it couldn’t be you—and Iguro was the only hashira Sanemi trusted with any tidbits of his personal life, so Iguro it was.

         He had invited the Serpent Hashira over for a training session one afternoon when he was particularly frustrated. Iguro pretty much knew the drill; when Shinazugawa invited him over for one-on-one training it usually meant he needed to rant about something and let off some steam. Since Iguro was more of the quiet type anyway, he didn’t mind keeping quiet and letting Shinazugawa grunt out his frustrations.

Sanemi may have thought that he was keeping his admiration for you a secret, but Iguro was much more perceptive than the Wind Pillar realized. When he finished telling his friend how shitty your relationship really was, he was shocked that his friend called him out instead of getting angry with him.

         “And you didn’t tell her this?” Iguro admonished Sanemi, “You’d keep such a secret from the girl you love?”

         “I...what? Love? I didn’t say anything-“ He cut himself off at the sharp look in Iguro’s eyes as he tried to deny his feelings.

“I can’t tell her, obviously! She would be angry not only at the situation but at me, for knowing now for a month that her relationship is a sham! You can’t just....just drop that on someone! I mean, did I even ask  for your opinion anyway? Geez!”

Iguro’s eyes peered sternly at Shinazugawa over his bandages. “You should have told her as soon as you knew. It wouldn’t have been easy, but it would have been easier than telling her now. Maybe she wouldn’t have been angry then, but she definitely will be now that you’ve known all this time, and you can’t blame her.” Iguro would never admit it, but he had grown fond of you over your time with the Demon Corps, and it was mostly contributed to how highly Shinazugawa, his friend, spoke of you. This whole situation now pissed him off as well.

         Sanemi found that he couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes.

“You think I don’t know that?! Know it all ass....” Sanemi mumbled, deflecting the shame he felt at being called out. “Look, whatever, I’ll tell her soon. I said already I should’ve told her before. God, this sucks.”

Iguro nodded in the affirmative, sheathed his sword and bid goodbye to his friend before heading back to his own estate, trusting that their training session had been helpful. And it turned out that it had been helpful, as it struck Sanemi to be called out so plainly by his typically cold friend, who he had not expected to scold him at their training earlier. I mean, what was that about? Iguro never spoke up when Sanemi ranted—it was like, an unspoken understanding of theirs. But hey, whatever. The longer Shinazugawa got to ponder on the oddity of the earlier conversation, the less he thought about what he was on his way to do.

Sanemi approached the residence of the Flame Pillar, who you were training under as his tsuguko. His steps faltered a bit as he saw that you were already outside and you spotted him quickly, giving him no more time to prepare his words. He forced a smile on his face that he hoped matched yours, and closed the distance between you.

“Y/n! Hey, how are you doing today?” He started out with some niceties, stalling.

“Oh well, I’m pretty good, Sanemi, how about you? I see you’re kind of flushed, if you need to come inside we can. It’s pretty hot out today. Here, let me get you some water as well!” As kind as always, you took him gently by the elbow and began walking him to the engawa nearby. As he was seated, he rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. Gratefully accepting the water you held out to him, he drank deeply and sighed, knowing that the painful conversation had to begin.

“Y/n, I um... I came here to tell you something. I should’ve told you a long time ago, but I have been a coward, and I’m sorry for that.” He glanced sideways at your face, noticing already how the worry filled your eyes.

“About a month ago, I found some personal writings of Tomioka’s, and, well, they... they mentioned you, and...” He paused to take a deep breath, preparing to rip the metaphorical bandaid off. “He wrote in his notebook that he isn’t in love you”

Sanemi held his breath. It almost seemed in that moment as if the world held its breath too—he could feel a slight breeze but didn’t hear it move through the trees, and even birds that had been chirping had fallen silent. He forced himself to look at you and he immediately wished he hadn’t. Your mouth had fallen open in a delicate “o” shape, and your eyes sparkled with tears that had yet to fall. It appeared that you were trembling, and you couldn’t meet his eyes as they desperately tried to lock onto yours.

After a few moments of prolonged silence, Shinazugawa reached his hand out toward you, not knowing what to say but knowing he could offer you some physical comfort—and you jerked violently away from him.

“Go.” Your voice was low.

“Y- Y/n I’m—”

“I said go Shinazugawa,” you were practically growling at him.

“But wait, I-“

Your head whipped around so quickly he was startled, your expression as fierce as when you faced down a demon. “You knew. You knew for a month and you hid it from me. I thought we were friends, I- I thought that you cared for me!” The anger in your voice is exactly as he had feared.

He was going to lose you because of Tomioka—no, no.... he was going to lose you because of his own stupidity.

Not wanting to anger you further, he slipped down from the engawa and took a couple of steps away before speaking one last sentiment to you: “I am sorry, Y/n. I understand if you don’t wish to talk to me anymore, but my door is open to you if you ever change your mind.” He exited the estate and walked with a heavy heart back to his own mansion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         You were devastated. Your deep fear had been confirmed by your friend, who had known long before you and chosen to deceive you. You had ignored Giyuu’s letters asking to meet for meals, and you had asked Rengoku to turn him away whenever he showed up at the estate’s entrance. You sobbed for a couple of days straight, then you could only lie in silence for the next day or two. Rengoku, the kind hearted man that he is, brought you all your favorite foods at mealtimes to try to entice you to eat, but your appetite was nonexistent despite his efforts. You finally reached a point where your sadness turned again to anger, but this time it was rightfully aimed toward the person who had deceived you longer than anyone—Giyuu. You finally instructed Rengoku to let him in after 5 days straight of the Water Hashira groveling outside. Rengoku, bless him, glared at Tomioka the entire time he marched to your door, though he knew not what was going on between the two of you.

         You had made an effort to clean your appearance up; you didn’t want to be disheveled in front of the man who had ripped your heart to shreds. Tomioka began the conversation, immediately starting to apologize, knowing how you had found out because Shinazugawa and Iguro had already ripped him a new one for it.

“Y/n please, I’m so so sorry. I can’t apologize enough for-“

“How could you?” You cut him off, not wanting to hear his bullshit apologies. If he were really sorry or guilty or whatever he would claim to you, why would he have kept his act up so long? Why pretend to care for you at all? If he wanted sex, it could have just been that. People make arrangements for situations to just enjoy sex all the time, there could have been some sort of understanding between you without the need for this senselessly cruel pain that you were put through.

“Y/n, I... I messed up. I was selfish, and I began a relationship with you knowing that a serious relationship wasn’t what I wanted, and I just.... I just hoped that somewhere along the line I would change my mind. I need you to understand though that it has nothing to do with you, you’re the best person I know, I just... I’m not someone who’s able to date right now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever, it’s just how I am. I should have told you that. I made excuse after excuse not to break things off. I enjoyed your affection and your attention, and I took advantage of it. I’m sorry.”

You listened to his small speech with a quivering lip.  He dated you for almost a year, with you thinking that you two were serious about each other, just because he liked your affection? You were almost more angry now that you’d heard his stupid explanation; it didn’t excuse this sham of a relationship. The silence stretched on as your tear-filled eyes glanced at the ground, at the trees behind him, at the birds in the sky....anywhere but at him, the man you thought you loved. Eventually, he broke the silence.

“You’re right to be angry. I would be too, anyone would be. You deserve better than me wasting your time. I’m so sorry. I know I never told you I loved you, because that felt like a lie, and I know you probably feel used. But y/n, if you ever forgive me, I know I could love you as my friend. I could be a much better friend to you than I ever was a lover. Please, take all the time you need. Even if you don’t forgive me, I’ll be willing to talk more whenever you’re ready.”

         He slowly began to turn around and step toward the estate’s main gate, and you watched him walk with slumped shoulders. At least you knew he truly felt bad about it all—Giyuu was not an actor. He couldn’t lie to save his life—not directly, like how he never said that he loved you. Once you were confident that he was out of earshot, you let out a sob that you hadn’t wanted him to hear, and turned to escape back into your bed for the remainder of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         After a week of your grieving your future with Giyuu, in which luckily you had not been called on any missions, you finally felt okay enough to get ready and go to a group training session. Upon your arrival, you were approached by Sanemi, whose expression was more worried than you’d ever seen it.

“I came to check on you,” he said, eyes flicking between your own as if searching for a response there. You knew he had come to ask about you multiple times, maybe more times than Giyuu even, but Rengoku took his role as your protector seriously and turned Shinazugawa away even when he threatened violence.

“I wasn’t taking visitors.”

“Okay, yeah, I um—I get that. You needed time. Did you at least get my letters?”

You hadn’t realized he had been sending you letters also—you had instructed your crow not to deliver any messages to you unless they were from the master instructing you to go on a mission. Everything else could wait.

“Oh, my crow may have them stored away for me somewhere, but I didn’t want to read any letters last week either. Sorry.”

“Oh no, no, no need to be sorry,” He rushed to reassure you, placing his strong hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his company; how he effortlessly showed you his sweet side that others didn’t see. Your heart, having felt frozen solid for well over a week at this point, began to thaw out at the genuine warmth you felt from your friend. Overwhelmed with appreciation for him, you drew him into a hug, which he returned after a beat of hesitation.

         The training session went without a hitch as you slid right back into your regimen. Sanemi hardly left your side, and other slayers gave the two of you odd looks at the beginning when you had embraced. You couldn’t blame them—Sanemi was feared by many for his quick temper and how he resorted to violence in many situations that weren’t quickly and easily resolved with words. Though you’d never had to be fearful of him, you were able to see why others were.

         As you were gathering your things to head back to Rengoku’s estate, Sanemi asked if he could accompany you, which you accepted. You enjoyed his companionship too much to say no.

“Y/n, I want to apologize to you. I know you were upset with me for not telling you about Tomioka when I found out, and I should have. We’re... we’re friends, and I care about your feelings. I didn’t tell you because I was scared to hurt you, even though it wasn’t technically me who was doing the uh, hurtful thing? Look, I’m not good with words, so uh, I—” His cheeks blushed scarlet as you peered up at him in the evening sun. A tiny smile formed on your face before you cut him off.

“It’s okay, Sanemi. I know. And I know you probably wanted to tell me. I’m not angry with you really, you told me eventually. You’re a good friend to me. Thank you.”

         You looped your arm through his and continued walking, a comfortable silence between you.

Sanemi was the one to break it. “You deserve better, y/n. I always thought you did, but definitely with all this coming out you deserve better. You deserve someone to love you. I see other couples around, like, kissing and holding hands and stuff and... I don’t know, I just never saw him do any of that for you. The next person should do that and more. You should have someone who isn’t afraid to love you proudly. I know you have a lot of love to give, ‘cause that’s just who you are. You are love. So that’s what you deserve.”

You couldn’t say anything in response—you had never had someone tell you something so heartwrenchingly sweet before. You were coming up to your place, so you stepped on the engawa and turned to face Sanemi before dipping down to place a kiss on his cheek. His blush from before, barely having faded, returned with a vengeance.

“Thank you, Sanemi,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper. You hoped you conveyed how much you appreciated him. You smiled, and backed into your home, watching his lips turn up as he also backed toward the path leading to his home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         Over the following months, you got back into your normal routine and felt much more at peace with your heartbreak. You had the support of the rest of the hashira, even if most of them didn’t know details of what happened between you and Tomioka—it wasn’t something that you were inclined to share. Not only would it cause more animosity to be directed toward him (he wasn’t the most popular slayer to begin with...), but it also caused you a bit of embarrassment that you were toyed with for so long. Regardless, you came to understand Tomioka’s reasoning for stringing you along, especially because of his lack of social life outside of you. You felt bad for him, knowing that now he truly had no one to spend time with; but you definitely weren’t ready to be on friendly terms with him anytime soon so you didn’t make efforts to see or speak with him.

         You had grown closer to Sanemi than you were before, which was a feat considering that you were already best friends really, even when you were with Tomioka. You both ate all of your meals together, trained together, often walked each other home, and confided in one another more than ever. Shinazugawa made you very comfortable around him. You were shocked when you realized one afternoon, head thrown back at the sky as you laughed at some clever quip from him, that he had single-handedly returned your smile to you after your heartbreak. You felt a tiny bit of warmth wiggling in your chest.

         Walking once again toward the Flame Hashira’s estate, your arms swayed gently by your sides. With Sanemi to your left, you felt very relaxed after a long day of training and goofing off with him and Iguro. You were looking forward to a nice meal and a hot bath. A sigh slipped from your lips at the pure contentment you felt in this moment.

         Sanemi’s head turned toward you, seeking your eyes.

“Everything alright?”

“Perfect, ‘Snemi,” your tongue was loose in relaxation and a strange version of his nickname slipped out, alongside a giggle at the slip-up.

         His face stretched into a smile, which was rare for anyone besides you to ever see. Walking down the bumpy path leisurely, the backs of your hands kept brushing. The warmth you’d felt in your chest since seeing Sanemi every day turned into a flutter everytime you touched his skin. As his knuckles bumped yours again, you decided to be bold—it was about time you started going for what you wanted, right? You caught his hand in yours and laced your fingers through his calloused ones. Your heart stuttered at the contact, and if you’d asked him how he felt he’d say the same. He squeezed your hand in his and rubbed his thumb in soft circles as you approached your residence.

“Y/n, I was actually wondering if you wanted to hang out tomorrow? With me? Well, duh, but you know...” Sanemi trailed off, his cheeks turning that shade of pink that delighted you so much. He was always so confident in every other situation—in fighting, in conversation with others, in his strengths, and he had been confident in flirting if what you’d seen in past years through your friendship was anything to go off of. His shyness with you was endearing; it told you that he cared what you thought of him. You knew he also had a level of comfort with you that he didn’t possess with anyone else, but you hoped in the near future you could express to him exactly just how much you valued him so that he no longer had reason to be so shy around you anymore.

  “Nemi, we hang out every day. Of course, I would love to see you again tomorrow.”

He kept meeting your eyes but then looking away. “Well yeah, yes, we do, but I kind of want to do something different, if that’s okay. Like if you wanted we could walk to the trees where the cherry blossoms are and I’ll bring a bunch of food and we’ll have, like, a picnic or something.” Your heart had to have swelled to twice its normal size.

         Still holding his hand, you gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I would love to.”

He finally met your gaze for more than half of a second and his still-pink cheeks broke into a grin wider than you think you’d ever seen on him. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen anything cuter. “Okay, then perfect! And, just to be clear, I wanted this to be a date. Like, romantically.”

You laughed again, throwing your arms around his neck and nuzzling into his broad chest. “Yes, Nemi. I want this to be a date too.”

Pulling back, you looked at his face, and you couldn’t help it. You were smitten with your friend. Well, soon to be more-than-friend, right?

“Can I kiss you?”

His face dropped into a look of pure shock, then elation as he breathed out, “Yes, y/n. I would like nothing more.”

So you leaned in, and he did the same, meeting in the middle. Sanemi may look rough around the edges to everyone else—but to you, he was nothing but soft and sweet. His lips were soft, not just in texture but in pressure, as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be too rough with you. Your lips moved together as if you’d done this before. Thinking about how you knew now Sanemi’s true feelings for you made you smile into the kiss, and you felt his lips turn upwards too. Both of you were hesitant to part, but you had to pull away when it became difficult to breathe. His lips followed yours, not wanting to break.

Sanemi rested his forehead against yours and your peered up into his eyes. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him look so relaxed or blissful. “I should go,” you said after a moment, pulling a sigh from his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sanemi. We’ll have more time together then.”

“Alright. If you must go,” he replied, pressing a sweet kiss to your brow before stepping away, off to his own estate. You watched him go. For the first time in several months, you could see yourself being happy again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         A year later, you still walked everywhere with Sanemi, only now you two never went without your hands clasped tightly together. Your relationship with him had been completely different than the one before that had broken your heart. Sanemi held your hand with pride, he planted kisses on the top of your head and pecked your cheeks even when in the presence of others. When you became overwhelmed with how adorable your partner was and stretched up on your toes for a kiss, he still blushed if you two were in public, but he never turned down an opportunity to kiss his beloved. Not to mention, Sanemi never let a day go by without telling you he loved you. He didn’t really need to tell you in order for you to know—his actions spoke volumes about his true feelings—but each time he told you, you reveled in it and made sure to tell him the same back. And yes, you could say it to him anywhere, anytime without embarrassment or needing to play it off somehow.

His affection was shocking to others. The big, bad Wind Pillar who beat other slayers to a pulp at his trainings blushed when his girlfriend kissed him? He held her hand like his lifeline? His eyes weren’t full of hatred, but adoration? How could this be? Though this behavior was shocking to them when your relationship began, many were able to associate this new temperament to Shinazugawa fairly easily. While still rough in training sessions and prone to losing his temper, since he had been with you others could tell that he made a greater effort to hold his tongue or step away when upset rather than throw senseless punches. You made him want to do better for you, so he was better for you. He was a man of his word.

****

Now, when you walked Sanemi to a Hashira meeting, you placed a gentle kiss to his cheek and looked at the other hashira waiting in the Master’s garden. You waved first at Rengoku, who you’d see later on, then at Tomioka, who still hesitated to return your greetings even though you had released any anger you held toward him months ago. How could you hold anger toward your ex when you were so incredibly happy with Sanemi? Tomioka had taught you what you deserved, and Sanemi had been more than happy to put in work to be that for you. Now you could say with truth that you had no complaints.

[merrinpippy]

on masks

so shockingly miracle mask has huge mask theming in like every aspect. basically every significant character is 'wearing' a mask literally or metaphorically, except for luke who remarks in ludmilla's costume shop that he doesn't think any of the masks suit him (since the events of the previous game luke can be authentically himself now.) this is fun to notice on its own, but there's more to be discussed than just the presence of masks.

every mask in miracle mask backfires on its wearer to some degree! the most obvious case of this is descole and the masked gentleman straight up underestimating their own mask/s and failing to see their plans to the end, and the resulting consequences. dalston and henry's masks of stoicism turn out to have kept them from years of friendship they could have enjoyed, and paint them both as suspects in the masked gentleman case. angela's aloof facade and distance from everyone around her allows her to be kidnapped for a significant portion of the game without anyone but the professor noticing (and even then, he notices that something's up with her, but chalks it up initially as not knowing her anymore). less obviously, emmy's mask only means she'll end up hurting the people she has come to care for even more when the time comes.

most interesting to me, though, is hershel! even as a teen he's remarkably reserved, though clearly passionate. he keeps himself very controlled, and seems to care very much about coming across to others as helpful, grounded, and 'normal'. the interests that we know he has he keeps locked up, literally hidden away in cupboards, not to be acknowledged aloud to himself or others. he never gets angry or ever really displays any stereotypical teen behaviours apart from awkwardness.

now what this means is he is treated as the reliable one who will nonetheless go along with whatever randall wants him to do. he's never particularly assertive (something he will learn to be as an adult) so his willingness is taken for granted. he's put in mortal danger in akbadain because it never occurs to randall that hershel's protests are anything more than for appearance's sake.

and when randall falls and hershel is alone, he yells! he falls to his knees, completely overcome. he cries. he pushes through. and when he reaches angela and henry, alone, covered in dirt, looking completely haunted... they don't even ask him if he's okay. angela bodily shakes him. in the past and present, nobody treats hershel as if he's been through something traumatic - to everyone else, he was either a bystander to or complicit in randall's death, but controlled, mild-mannered and rational hershel is never considered a victim in his own right even after years have passed for everyone to think on it. years after the fact angela apologises to hershel... when she realises she needs his help. and henry immediately accuses him of betraying randall's memory and abandoning him.

and to be clear this isn't me saying oh they're evil or whatever but it's significant that they acknowledge how the trauma affected them and their behaviour from that point forward but it doesn't occur to them that hershel's behaviour and life trajectory was also altered forever! because hershel has for his whole life masked so well that to everyone else he does not have an interior life that isn't puzzle solving.

and the absolute funniest thing about it is that when hershel confesses this all to emmy and luke.... it's immediately back to the investigation, "where do we go now professor!" i'm sure there's no reason to ask if hershel's okay, he's probably unaffected by all that, let's go! readers i laughed out loud. tfw you mask so well everyone forgets you're a person