#it makes no sense why he would be so happy at such a small sentiment from will

[love-byers]

mike when will remembers him despite his amnesia ^

mike when he thinks will made him a painting ^

mike when will says he won't find a new party ^

mike when will makes a little joke about them saving the world together ^

mike when will agrees to be his best friend again

mike when el says she loves him ^

[bigfan-fanfic]

A Delving Song (Monster!Reader x Laios Touden)

Could I request a Laios fic where he meets a new monster, your choice, that is surprisingly sentient who joins the party? I just think it would be cute and fluffy.

Laios tilted his head. That didn't sound like the normal song the sirens on this floor of the dungeon would sing.

Marcille and Chilchuck are still asleep. And Senshi's off checking his golem farms.

So Laios wanders off towards the pool of water where you sit.

It's a ways off from typical mermaid territory.

And you yourself seem different from other mermaids. Your lower half is covered in feathers, not scales, and you have small wings protruding from your back.

"To eat is the privilege of the living... all things must eat to survive..."

Laios looks at you, in awe as you continue to sing a song of resilience and endurance. He's absolutely enchanted. And he quickly opens his mouth to sing with you once he memorizes the simple tune.

You startle badly, yelping, and waving your arms, summoning streams of waters like vipers to rise around you.

"Whoa! Please, I didn't mean any harm. I just really liked your song."

You frown. "Tallmen like you don't sing. They attack."

Laios puts down his sword. "See? No attacking."

"You're... different."

Laios grins and nods. "That's right. You see... I wanna know more about creatures like you. Are you a mermaid? You seem to be similar and different."

"I think your kind calls me a siren. But most of us get hunted, because our songs can be dangerous. We have some control over water too."

"That's incredible. Do you come up with your own songs?"

"We sing the tune - others seem to hear what they really want to hear. Unlike mermaids, the charming of it all seems to come from the prey."

"Why are you all alone?" Laios asks bluntly, tilting his head when your face falls.

"My flock were... hunted by a group of tallmen. I escaped. The mermaids don't want me because we bring adventurers that kill."

Laios frowns. "Well, that's no good. Maybe... maybe you could come with our group. I'm sure once they hear you speak and reason, they'll have no problem."

You smile sharp teeth at the tallman. "What are you called?"

"Laios."

You let the water slip down into the pool and move forward in a crouch, finally pressing your head into his metallic stomach. "Thank you, Laios."

Chilchuck is the most suspicious of you, clearly not happy with the idea of letting a monster into the party. Even a clearly reasoning and thinking one like you.

Marcille is a bit more welcoming, especially as she hopes you can teach her some of your water magic.

Laios initially thinks you're amphibious like a fishman but as you don't breathe water it becomes clear you're more of a bird than anything else.

Marcille immediately shuts down any further discussion because she senses it getting uncomfortably close to figuring out what exactly you taste like.

But considering you grew up in the dungeon, your expertise makes travel much easier. Senshi also is able to take some extra parts of monsters the party has collected to make some water skins for you to carry water through the more dry areas for you to use as a weapon.

Laios is always eager to hear about monster culture - just as you are about the cultures of the surface. Marcille and Laios spend many meal breaks discussing with you about what your lives and daily activities are like

Chilchuck doesn't share, but then again he also doesn't share with anyone else, so it's not like it's an anti-monster sentiment.

But eventually you find yourself nestling close to Laios when it's time to rest for the night.

And one night, when he rolls over and rests his head in your feathers, you don't mind. You like the tallman and his unique opinions.

And perhaps these feelings may soon grow and evolve.

Until then, the party together shall eat, and almost more than their meals, their growing friendship is delicious.

Delicious in dungeon.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Sanemi Shinazugawa General Profile

Yandere! Sanemi Shinazugawa x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence/mild gore, Sanemi controls your diet/comments on what you eat, mentions of physical and sexual assault (not by Sanemi though because he is Consent King™), my characterization of Sanemi is a little unusual I think but I stand by it, part of that characterization involves him being very sexually frustrated so mentions of masturbation, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of reader being insecure/having low self esteem, kind of mind-break ish for reader, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 13K

DARLING PROFILE:

Honest 

To Sanemi, there is nothing more worthless than liars - with the exception, possibly, of demons. He doesn’t understand why one would skate around the truth, and in his eyes it’s a sign of weakness, of an unwillingness to face reality and to cheat themselves.

Needless to say, he wouldn’t tolerate a partner who is prone to lying, who lets falsities slip from their lips like it’s nothing. He wants to know that his partner won’t front anything, that each word and phrase that they speak is nothing but how they feel, their honest thoughts and feelings.

Trust means a lot to him, and because it’s so difficult for him to fully open up, to allow himself to becomes vulnerable, he’s quite selective with who he lest see the real Sanemi Shinazugawa, the real man who wants nothing more than for the ones he loves to be safe and happy.

He needs a darling who won’t bullshit him, who can hold his respect and take a slight weight off his shoulders by knowing that they won’t ever lie to him.

It doesn’t mean his paranoia diminishes in any sense of the word, but the sentiment is still nice - it’s pleasing to him that when his darling is finally giving in and telling him in a defeated, resigned voice that they love him too, when he’s forcing out a compliment that sounded wonderful in his head but strange once it passed him that the small smile and soft ‘thanks’ they give is real.

He needs to comfort of knowing that his darling is authentic, that they’re showing their real selves to him, and with each glimpse he sees he only falls more and more in love. 

Opinionated

There is no doubt that Sanemi works tirelessly to be as powerful as he can, that it’s his sole drive in life to kill and defeat demons. He’s a man fueled by adrenaline and hate for the man-eating creatures, and he desires a darling who is similarly motivated.

His darling doesn’t need to have a tragic past or anything of the sort, but he appreciates someone who is somewhat of a spitfire.

He likes women who can challenge him, and if his darling is able to keep up with him and even occasionally be better than him at something, it’s a sure fire way for him to grow interested.

He loves the idea of his darling being capable and independent (ironic, considering the way he grows to coddle his darling and let his overprotectiveness convince him that they’re utterly helpless without him), and a darling who’s able to showcase this personality trait gets him ever so slightly flustered.

He likes someone who can stand up to him, who doesn’t let him boss them around, and while he’ll want them to be complacent and listen to him once he has a more solidified role in their life, there’s something so incredibly attractive about them having their own mind and opinion.

He may act like it irritates him at first, butting heads with his darling and even occasionally complaining about how headstrong they are, but it’s one of the very first things that catches Sanemi’s attention and keeps it.

(That and, of course, the color of their eyes, the sway of their hips, the lilt of their voice, and myriad other qualities that make him gape like some lovesick school boy. Pathetic.)

Kind

On the flip side, Sanemi is also wildly attracted to a darling who is a truly kind person.

They can be opinionated, hardheaded, competitive, any number of things that leave them labeled as a strong personality, but it’s in the moments where Sanemi sees how truly compassionate they are that his feelings really become cemented.

He’s had to bury his own compassion and empathy down over the years, hardening his shell and playing into the character so well that it’s become essentially his real self, and to see his darling able to be so kind and loving to the people around them makes him wildly flustered and jealous.

It reminds him of his old self, and while that brings its own heavy baggage, there’s something freeing and so very calming about it, like some long lost puzzle piece is slotting into place because it just feels right.

And when his darling turns that kindness onto him, Sanemi’s genuinely at a loss for words. The first time they scold him for getting injured and help tend to his wounds, he’s already putty in their hands. He’s momentarily struck silent when his darling presents to him a small gift from a nearby market, the gift itself meager and not something Sanemi particularly wants, but there’s something about the gesture that gets his heart racing, flattered and unsure why they’d be giving someone like him something.

It’s a quality that he subconsciously looks for, and though he’d never admit it, it’s difficult for him to not notice just how kind his darling would be in the context of motherhood. They’d be great with children, he’s sure, and while he doesn’t want to bring any children into the world while it's still crawling with demons, he’s nursing the quiet, embarrassed dream of his darling carrying his children and heading a loving, large family.

It’s the stuff of his fantasies, the kind of thing that makes him flush and get irritated at sappy at is, but with each kind gesture and compliment, his darling only makes it harder and harder to not dream of it.

Brave

On many levels, to become a person Sanemi respects you’d have to be brave. He simply doesn’t tolerate those who are weak-willed or meek, and a darling who’s more willing to put themselves out there or stand up for others is extremely attractive to him.

His darling doesn’t need to be a risk-taker, but he appreciates someone is willing to go outside of their comfort zone every once in a while. This is especially true when it comes to interacting with him. His tough demeaner scares most people off, so his darling would need to be willing to tough it out and stand up to him in order to dig past his rough exterior and get at the soft, vulnerable side of him.

It makes him proud, really, when his darling does something that he deems brave or difficult for them. It fills him with a sense of accomplishment, feeling genuinely happy for them because he’s so very proud when they achieve even basic things.

He's extremely observant and picks up on even minute aspects of his darling’s personality, and so he’s very in touch with what’s within his darling’s comfort zone and what isn’t.

This trait is by and large a positive for him, however there are times when it becomes the bane of his existence; if they do something he deems stupid or unnecessary and puts them in danger he becomes very, very angry. He’s paranoid in every sense of the word, terrified that his darling will die or somehow disappear, leaving him behind to be all alone, losing just another person he’s come to love.

(Though, love is perhaps not quite the word for it – needs, maybe, or even adores, just with a sense of finality that scares even Sanemi.) His darling’s braveness is a double-edged sword, and once they’re under his lock and key, he’s trying to cut down on their ability to act on this as much as possible, not only for their safety but also his sanity.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS: 

Protective

As a general rule, Sanemi’s expression of his feelings towards you is rather indirect. He’ll never outright confess that he’s in love with you until very, very late into his obsession, and by that time you’ll have already been trapped by his side for at least a few months, already uncomfortably aware that he feels something for you, even if he won’t put a name on it.

He’s not traditionally romantic in any sense, and while he does harbor fantasies about being all soft and mushy with you, he can’t seem to allow himself to act on these desires, particularly towards the beginning of his infatuation.

(He’ll spend his nights laying awake, staring at the ceiling while his fingers trace patterns against the scars on his chest, imagining they’re your own softer, prettier hands, that you’re laying beside him and lulling him to sleep with your touch and soft voice, that you’re telling him that you love him and that you feel so safe with you, Sanemi. Idly, he wonders whether you’re put off by the scars – you’ve never mentioned it, sure, but Sanemi isn’t stupid. He knows you’re too nice and perhaps too intimidated by him, but he still bites his lip and wonders whether you wouldn’t mind them, if you’d like them, if you’d be attracted to them, even… And suddenly his fingers feel like fire because now he’s imagining how it would feel to have your lips trail the scarred skin instead and oh god-)

He’s not particularly overt with many aspects of his obsession, with a few stark exceptions – namely, Sanemi is very, very overprotective of you. Call it a result of a traumatic childhood and adult life or perhaps even a coping mechanism, but once his feelings for you begin to fester, your safety becomes his number one priority.

And really, isn’t it understandable?

Seeing humans get slaughtered on a daily basis constantly reminds him that you’re weak. Sure, he’s a Hashira and risks his life with every breath, but you’re you. You’re painfully unprepared to handle a confrontation with a demon, and with each new violent, gory death he sees, Sanemi becomes more and more aware of this.

It’s maddening, really, because he’ll be out on a mission and be just a hair too late to save some poor civilian woman and oh, her hair color is so very similar to yours – from a distance it almost looks like you. Your faces aren’t similar, though, and as Sanemi runs past the fresh corpse in pursuit of the monster, he’s breathing a sigh of relief because for the smallest, briefest moment he was almost convinced that that was you.

And later that night, as he sits down alone in his quiet, empty mansion, every blink of his eyes is flashing an image of you in her position, scarlet blood staining your skin and tears drying against your cheeks. It makes him grit his teeth, pacing around the room and clutching onto his sword hilt, muttering under his breath about how you’re driving him crazy and this shit needs to stop, I have to stop, this has to stop…

But he still finds himself dashing off to the modest room you call home, anger flaring when he notices you’ve left your window open, mentally berating you and promising to sternly remind you tomorrow to not be so careless.

Wide eyes peer into your bedroom to catch sight of you peacefully sleeping, and he sucks in a breath at the sight. You’re just so pretty – all soft and warm in your bed, lips parted ever so slightly, the slope of your nose catching his eye, the slow rise and fall of your chest.

(He’ll stop to match his own breathing with yours, palm pressing against the glass of the window, unable to stop staring even as he calls himself pathetic and a creep for watching you sleep. It’s just calming in a way he can’t describe, and when he finally forces himself to move some thirty minutes later, the cycle only restarts as he steps foot back in his home.)

His anxiety that you’re unable to protect yourself manifests pretty early into his obsession – and you’ll notice, too. He’s unusually concerned with all aspects of your health and safety – he’s always asking when you’ve last eaten, what you had, if you’re still hungry, when you last had protein or a vegetable or drank water. And while he’s trying to be as civil and nonchalant as he can manage, he’s still staring, looming over you and looking at you with an intensity that makes you feel so very small, your answer more of a question than an answer.

And if he doesn’t like the answer, you’re being dragged to his own personal kitchen, all the while he’s grumbling about how you’re so irresponsible, can’t even feed yourself on your own, meanwhile he’s already boiling water and cutting vegetables, having forced you to sit on the most plush cushion he owns.

And you will be eating everything he feeds you – when you seem hesitant, he's threatening with a disturbingly serious I won’t let you leave until that tray is clean, the calmness and sincerity in his voice driving you to immediately pick up your utensils.

Typically, his cooking isn’t bad – perhaps ever so slightly charred, but it’s cooked to your tastes and preferences (though he never explicitly asked about them), and he’s always looking at you while you dine, those wide eyes of his never seeming to blink as he surveys every possible detail about you.

(Really, he’s doing two things – firstly, he’s obsessively checking over every aspect of your eating habits. How many times do you chew before you swallow? Which foods do you start eating first, and do you eat section by section or a little bit of everything? Do you blow on your foods if they’re too hot, your pretty lips puckering into a cute little ‘o’ that makes him suck in a breath? But even aside from that he’s staring, transfixed, because just last night he was dining alone at this table, solemnly chewing at his food while imagining your presence beside him, fantasizing about the day when you’re eating together, perhaps even swapping stories of the day or complimenting him or telling him that you look so handsome today Sanemi, it’s kind of pissing me off… Just the thought makes him sit up straighter, unconsciously puffing out his chest because he wants you to be very, very aware of the muscles lining every inch of his body.)

And even aside from food, his protectiveness is apparent in the way he treats you – he’s always quickly gazing over your body, checking for any signs of cuts, scrapes, bruises, or limps, the surveying genuinely clinical rather than perverse.

(Of course, later that night he’ll remember the details with a slightly lewder twist – wondering how soft your thighs must be and letting his hands flex into a fist in an effort to grab onto something, even though it can’t be you. He’s imagining exactly how those nipples of yours must look like, imagining in detail the way they’d look all pebbled, the skin soft and warm and god, he bets you’d taste sweet, like some sort of heaven.)

He’s refusing to leave your side when you walk into town, always trailing at your arm and constantly glowering at the people around you, his excuse something related to checking for demon activity in the crowd – you don’t mention that it’s daytime.

(He’s always raising a brow when men approach you, rage simmering just below the surface alongside an underlying sense of anxiety and insecurity because while he may be the most capable of protecting you, the kinder, gentler man that calls you beautiful at the small morning market may be more capable of winning your heart. And so, when they get too close, he’s quick to place himself between the two of you, a scowl on his face and his tone a mix of condescension and threatening when he tells him to get lost, one more step and I slice your arm off. It’s protection, sure, because who knows what these men could want from you, but the small, possessive part of him is smug when the man scurries off, his worries momentarily quelled because you’re still next to him, not that stranger.)

He’s pessimistic about people by nature, always assuming the worst, and so Sanemi accompanies you every free moment he possibly can, acting as your shadow and impossible to get away from. It’s irritating, really, because even if you fight and bicker with him about it, requesting that he please leave you alone because it scares you to have him hanging off of you like that, he’ll only resort to following you from a few meters behind, blending in with the crowd but still keeping those eyes on you, hand always tightly clutched around the hilt of his sword just in case your safety is threatened.

He knows it’s stalking, sure, and he reprimands himself for his weakness and inability to control himself, but the moment you’re out of his sight panic is racing through him, his breathing getting shallow and his skin feeling hot because fuck fuck fuck this isn’t happening, you’re not gone you can’t be gone please oh god where are you –

He’s running as quickly as he can to check behind every corner, desperation to find you so potent that it bars him from feeling embarrassed, only calming once he finds you. He’ll grasp onto your shoulders once he does, his grip nearly bruising as he demands to know where you’ve been, practically yelling at you to tell him if you’re hurt, if anyone bothered you, if you’ve been attacked or if you’re scared.

It’s only when you wince or beg him to back off that he does, freezing up and letting his mouth fall open stupidly, before suddenly jumping back as if touching you pains him, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, disappointment and anger in himself for injuring you rolling through him.

He treats you like you’re delicate, fragile, breakable, and no matter how often you tell him – and prove to him – that you’re not, Sanemi refuses to acknowledge it.

After all, you needing protection gives him purpose. It gives him justification to be around you, to be allowed in your presence – it makes him think he might, just maybe, be worthy of your love. And no matter how pathetic it makes him feel to admit it, Sanemi would do absolutely anything to get you looking at him and needing him like he needs you.

Anything.

Possessive

And it’s palpable. Sanemi is many things, but subtle is not one of them – and while he may be decent at masking many aspects of his obsession with you, his possessive side is certainly not one of them.

He’s easily jealous, always suspecting the worst of people that approach you. The man that comes up to ask you for directions obviously has an ulterior motive, perhaps wanting to ogle you or get just a hair too close to your body for Sanemi’s comfort.

The older man that accidentally bumps into you as he walks with his cane may seem innocent, but Sanemi’s immediately scowling, eyeing the man like a hawk because many old men seem to feel much too entitled and much too confident in bothering younger, attractive women, and he’ll be damned before he lets some old creep harass you.

(A bit hypocritical, all things considered, because while Sanemi may be your age, he’s significantly more of a creep – the way he’s constantly following you, constantly thinking of you, imagining your smile and your laugh and of what he’s sure is a very warm and oh so fucking wet place between those plush thighs of yours. The old man would probably only touch you – Sanemi wants to do much, much more.)

And so, a large portion of his possessiveness stems from his own protectiveness. He firmly believes that no one else is capable of protecting you to the level and degree that he can. He’s a Hashira, unafraid to throw himself into danger for a cause he fully believes in, so why should he be afraid to put himself on the line in order to keep you safe and sound?

Slaughtering demons is still his life’s mission, sure, but somehow you’ve wormed your way in, too, and Sanemi finds it increasingly difficult to simply ignore how much of an effect you have on him. And even as much as he tries to deny his feelings in the beginning, praying and hoping that they’re simply temporary, it becomes very, very difficult to force himself to not care when he sees anyone else speaking to you.

And honestly, a lot of the anger comes from the fact that you have never been this familiar and carefree when conversing with Sanemi – you never smile at him like you do with this new man, all teeth and rounded cheeks and glowing eyes. It’s cute, adorable, beautiful even, but it’s also infuriating, making Sanemi’s blood boil and something ugly and uncomfortable press against his ribs.

Other men always seem to be able to more easily speak with you – they’re wittier, better at complimenting you, managing to make you laugh and smile in a way that hurts Sanemi to see. It’s painful, more than anything, and early into his obsession it’s moments like these that show him that no matter how he tries to convince himself that his feelings for you aren’t as strong or potent as he thinks, he’s wrong.

He needs you in a way that simultaneously frustrates and terrifies him. He hasn’t felt a connection and genuine desire in such a long time that he doesn’t even recognize the feeling at first – it takes him seeing you interact with men over a prolonged period of time to even understand the nature of his infatuation, realizing that instead of mere irritation he’s feeling, it’s something deeper, harsher, more personal.

It’s something that makes it hard to breath, his fists clenching and his legs feeling like lead, dread settling deep in his chest because oh god, what does he do?

He tends to act before thinking when it comes to you, his body seeming to react before he even has a moment to process what he’s seeing, and this is certainly no exception when another man approaches you. He’ll be quick to step in, but as Sanemi’s obsession continues on, he becomes more and more torn about his possessive tendencies.

By and large, he’s lucid about the nature of his feelings for you. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, and as time passes and his love for you only seems to grow exponentially, he begins to wonder whether interfering with potential lovers of yours is really the correct move. He’s horribly jealous, of course, barely able to keep himself from hurling the moment he sees you interacting with anyone else, but there’s something else there, sitting just below the surface and giving him ever so slight pause.

It’s guilt, the idea that he’s becoming unreasonably possessive and territorial over you when he really has no right to. After all, thinking of you as his woman makes him feel good, his chest feeling all tingly and his cheeks going hot, but it’s not really true, is it?

You’re not his – he’s just an admirer, a stalker who desperately wishes he could call out to you and have you smile at him, look at him, let him wrap you in his arms and even press a kiss or two against his trembling lips. But you’re not – and it’s difficult for Sanemi to rationalize that the longer his obsession goes on.

And so, by the times that he’s a few months into accepting his feelings for you, Sanemi tries to limit his interventions into your interactions with others to only situations where you’re uncomfortable or in danger. And it’s noble, truly – but the problem arises from the fact that Sanemi is the one judging when this occurs, deciding when someone is bothering you.

His mood plays a huge role in this judgement decision, his moodiness and however long he's been away from you or gone without interacting with you swaying his decision. If he’s been particularly absent from your life for the last few days or weeks, Sanemi is believing that everyone has ill intentions with you – every man that glances at you, even every elderly woman that compliments your eyes or your figure.

They all want you, and it makes him panic, growing anxious and terrified that someone will snatch you away from him, that he’ll lose you and with you every bit of happiness and calm you make him feel. It’s a panic response, more than anything, and he’ll immediately rush in, sometimes not even caring how you grow irritated and frustrated that he always seems to just appear, despite the fact that you have the situation under control.

It’s a mixture of genuine worry for your safety and selfish desire to keep you all to himself that motivates him, and you’ll notice a stark difference in his behavior once he’s got you stolen away in his estate. He won’t directly reveal his feelings to you, but his sense of ownership over you will become much more apparent with the way he’s always providing for you, giving you all sorts of expensive gifts and getting only the best foods for you, doing anything and everything to get you to like him, to get you to become willingly his and to show you that no one else could treat you as well or love you as wholly.

He’s a prideful man, sure, but when it comes to you everything flies out the window – he’s barely able to conceal his desperation for you, and the defense is so weak that you’ll spot the cracks immediately. You’ll be able to tell just how badly he needs you to admit that you’re his, his control over your life worsening with every day that passes because he simply can’t stand knowing that you aren’t utterly, completely his.

And really, would it be so bad to give in? There’s something romantic about a man who wants you so badly that he’s so hyper fixated on keeping you his and only his, isn’t there? Something exciting, something flattering, something raw?

Sanemi sure hopes you think so, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter – he can’t stop himself, and you will become his at the end of the day.

Shy

But in an extremely specific way – he doesn’t shy away from interacting with you per say, but it’s very, very difficult for him to become completely open and vulnerable with you.

He’s simply too closed off – he’s entirely unused to having anyone close in his life, his few relationships held quietly close to his heart and rocky, to say the least. (His love for Genya, for example, or even the comradery he feels for Obanai and his fellow Hashira, though he’s much more expressive than he realizes.)

He’s simply not good with words, often finding himself saying things he doesn’t mean or speaking with a tone entirely unreflective of what he feels. And as a result, he struggles with the idea of opening himself up to you. You’re simply too important to him – you’re his everything now, the woman he wants to protect and keep safe above all else.

And while he’s not deluded enough to believe that you can understand him simply by looking at him, Sanemi hopes and prays that his actions are enough to convey the depth and nature of his feelings.

(Though, he’s often unsure of whether he wants you to really understand just how strong his dependence on you really is. Perhaps it would be better if you didn’t know that he can’t spend a single hour without passing thoughts of you sifting through his mind – a simple glance at a cloud has him thinking it vaguely looks like your hair, the shape making the corner of his lip turn up ever so slightly, his fingers subconsciously rubbing together and imagining the texture against his skin. He doesn’t want you to know that sometimes, when he’s sitting alone and eating the rather bare-bones, plain meal he’s cooked for himself, he’ll set a second plate, biting back his pride and quietly speaking into the air, pretending that you’re sitting there and entertaining him, nodding along to his words and encouraging him after a particularly difficult mission or seeing you getting just a tad too friendly with another man.)

Really, a lot of the fear of opening himself up comes down to Sanemi’s lucidity about his feelings for you. He has no romantic experience, true, but he’s not stupid – he’s aware that it’s unusual to be this attached when the two of you are really only platonically involved, even as much as he yearns to take things further.

He understands that it’s not normal to be so hyper fixated and concerned on your health and safety, always having a moment of clarity as he scolds you for wearing shoes that are worn down enough to hurt the soles of your shoes, or for not drinking water all day.

He’s very aware that it’s wrong of him to be following you home and keeping an eye on you without your knowledge or consent, and truthfully he’s afraid to see your reaction when you realize just how truly depraved he’s become for you. He's sure that you’ll find him repulsive – maybe you’ll curse him out, calling him a freak and a creep and even a monster for invading your personal privacy and space on such a regular basis.

(You’d be mortified, he’s sure, to find out that he often lets himself into your apartment during the day, knowing you’ll be at a friend’s place for the next few hours and wandering back after following you there, the familiar scent of you calming him immediately once he steps inside. He’s sure you’d be angry to know that he’s thumbing at each and every item of clothing you own, memorizing the feel of the fabric, running his fingers along the inside just to pretend to feel your skin, finding that this is the closest thing he can get to touching you. He’s sure you’d be mad to know that he’s picked up your pillow, hugging it to his chest and pressing his face against it, deeply inhaling and even planting a few unsure, rather stiff kisses against the material, wishing with a sort of boyish hope that tonight you’ll happen to press your face against that specific spot as you sleep.)

He’s naively nursing the hope that you’d by some miracle be okay with his more covert behaviors, wishing that you secretly feel as strongly for him as he does you. But even then Sanemi doesn’t let himself slide too deeply into that thinking, aware that it’s dangerous to become so detached from reality. You will be horrified, and he will be absolutely shattered to see the way you’ll flinch away from him, how you’ll look at him with fear and disgust in your eyes.

(And really, the pathetic thing is that while Sanemi will be ashamed of your newfound perception of him, he can’t deny that he’d be absolutely giddy to have you looking at him, your attention entirely on him even if it’s negative. And that only serves to fill him with more self-loathing, something ugly and heavy settling against his chest at the thought because it really is awfully pitiful that simply your attention is enough to have his knees feeling weak, his cheeks tingling and his palms growing sweaty because oh, you see him.)

And so, Sanemi does his best to avoid broaching the subject of how he feels about you. Instead, he tries every possible method he can think of to express himself through actions.

He doesn’t have much as a reference point, both his career and his comrades not exactly ideal sources of healthy, loving relationships, but at a certain point Sanemi becomes too desperate to ignore his few resources. He needs you to see him, to smile at him and acknowledge him, and so he bites his pride and awkwardly approaches Kanroji about it.

He’s not exactly overjoyed to be asking for her advice, but she’s the only one he feels has any sort of idea what you could possibly be looking for in terms of romantic gestures. (He’d also considered asking Shinobu, but he’d immediately crossed that idea out upon realizing that not only would Shinobu likely tease him in the moment, she’d very likely never let it go, constantly holding it over his head that the Sanemi Shinazugawa needed advice on how to woo a woman. At least Kanroji would be kind about it.)

He’s approaching her and asking as nonchalantly as he can manage whether women like men to give them flowers, escort them from location to location, cook for them, where women like to be touched (with a very, very quick clarification of not in a weird way immediately following the question), or any number of other things. And Kanroji, while suspicious of his intentions, is more than happy to gush about the small things that make women swoon. And Sanemi is hanging onto every word – pressing for details about what specific compliments to shower you with, what small gifts he should consider picking up on his missions to bring home to you, what tone of voice he should be using instead of his usual gruff, irritated lilt.

Sanemi is quick to try and instill some of these ideas into his ‘relationship’ with you – he spends easily an hour biting his lip and diligently searching through every single flower at the shop, his hands slightly trembling when he hands you the small bouquet, struggling to make eye contact as he quietly – and with something almost akin to a tremor in his voice – tells you that your kimono is beautiful, the statement almost phrased like a question.

It’s the closest Sanemi is willing to get to admitting his feelings in times like these, and up until the point where he steals you away into his own abode, these sporadic bursts of confidence and nerves will leave you with whiplash because mere moments later he’ll be growling at a drunk man approaching you, threats slipping from his lips and his aura suddenly switching from bashful, almost schoolboy-esque to deadly serious.

And once he’s been forced you kidnap you, this behavior mostly continues. He still doesn’t want to fully confess everything, but he’s trying his absolute hardest to make you as happy as possible – going out of his way to keep you comfortable and satisfied, guilt eating away at him and making him overcompensate by treating you like you’re royalty.

With time, he’ll slowly become more open to you – that mask will slip ever so slightly, bits of his true feelings shining through. He’ll accidentally let it slip that he knows something about you that he shouldn’t, cluing you into his behaviors revolving around the stalking and rifling through your things.

It’ll be the middle of the night and he’s suddenly jolted awake after a particularly graphic nightmare, half asleep as he rushes out of his bed and practically runs to find you. He’s frantic to check that you’re still in the bed he’s set up for you, his breathing only calming down when he sees your still form, a declaration of love, adoration, and relief slipping from his lips that you happen to hear and wonder at how he can be so sappy and whipped.

It’s embarrassing, more than anything, but Sanemi simply struggles to be vulnerable – eventually you’ll become uncomfortably aware of just how badly he needs you, what with his growing need for your affirmations and physical touch, but the process is slow going, frustrating, confusing, even. But please be patient with him – he’s trying his best for you, really, and with every rejection and laugh when he’s attempting to open up, the less likely he becomes to completely and fully trust that you could love him, too.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Sanemi has always been a bit more on the aggressive side; between slaughtering demons for a living and being a bit brash in his words in his personal life, he’s never been one for handling problems with delicacy, or even really diplomacy – when he gets angry, it’s a bit all consuming.

And when you get thrown into the equation? Well, Sanemi is a lost cause – his emotions regarding you are so complex, so overwhelming and deep that the moment he feels your relationship is being threatened, he’s immediately shutting it down, attacking the threat mercilessly with everything he has because fuck, he can’t let you leave him.

When it comes to romance and love, he’s honestly quite insecure; he knows that there’s no way he’s your first choice, that someone as harsh and rude and demanding could ever possibly be the one you desire. Not to mention the fact that he’s constantly putting his life on the line, the gamble he’s playing on whether he’ll live to see the light of day every night. And he’s not sure about the scars the job produces, too, because while he normally wears them as a badge of pride to signal his toughness and battle experience, he’s not so sure you’d share the same positive response to them.

(It’s such a constant worry for him that the moment you’re in his vicinity, he’s torn between leaving his uniform wide open to show off his sculpted pectorals and abs and simultaneously wanting to cover up, terrified that you’ll find his scarred and calloused body upsetting, repulsive.)

He knows he’s not the ideal man, but there’s a part of him that’s desperately clinging onto the idea that maybe, just maybe you love him too, that you’re just as happy being with him, that you need him as badly as he needs you. It’s unrealistic, though, and in his heart of hearts he knows it and berates himself for even entertaining the idea that you see him as anything more than an acquaintance (or a friend at most).

And yet, the moment that he sees another man – one that’s arguably more similar to what he’s sure your type must be - all reason gets thrown out the door. He’s gritting his teeth as he sees another man approaching you, talking to you, even so much as looking at you – it’s a threat to the relationship he’s precariously building between the two of you, a possibility for something to drive you away from him, the mere idea scaring the absolute shit out of him.

You’re his everything, the reason he lives to see another day, and the moment your safety is compromised (because Sanemi is absolutely fucking sure that that man approaching you with a flush on his face and wide eyes has intentions that are only bad, desires racing through his heart to hurt you, leave you crying and violated and so very scared) he’s immediately wanting to interfere, to break you away from whatever son of a bitch decided to come between what’s rightfully his, what he’s devoted so much of his time and energy to – you.

And even as he realizes that this mindset is detrimental, unhealthy, potentially irreparably damaging your perception of him, Sanemi can’t find it in himself to stop. He’s just too paranoid, too terrified that you’ll be so cruelly ripped away from him.

And of course, it’s also a matter of paranoia where your safety is concerned, too – he has no faith in your ability to fight, and he’s confident that if a bigger, stronger man were to assault you in some way, you’d be hard pressed to fight him off.

(A notion that makes him sick, immediately clutching at his sword and furrowing his eyebrows, the need to see you immediately making him spring to life, already sprinting to where he knows you typically are this time of day.)

And so, Sanemi will often step in between the stranger and you, regardless of the context. And while it pisses you off when it’s a friend of yours or even a simple stranger with innocent intentions, Sanemi manages to redeem himself because every time a creep approaches you, he’s always, always there to swoop in and save you just as the weight of your situation begins washing over you.

(And Sanemi is more than happy to play your savior – just the look you give him, so full of admiration and gratitude and, dare he say, awe, is enough to make him flustered for the next week, finding himself unable to fall asleep and instead imagining your face, clutching at his pillow and squeezing his eyes shut, small whispers of your name falling past his lips.)

In retrospect, you really shouldn’t have gone out for groceries this late. It was winter time, when everything goes dark much too quickly. Before you’d known it the sun was setting and you had yet to stock up on food for the week, making you quickly race out the door and trying to catch the last few minutes of vendors. The market was just barely open, the entire town feeling oddly deserted considering how early it still was.

As nightfall descended, the sun slipping past the horizon, you find yourself carrying a bag of heavy groceries and padding back home, grunting occasionally at the heavy weight in your arms. Your home wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods, the area always feeling just slightly ominous at night, but the rather depressing sight of your empty cupboards had forced you to venture at a time you’d normally avoid leaving your front door.

Biting your lip, you let the groceries in your hand shift slightly, letting the weight shift from one arm to another. Your attention is so focused on the cloth bags in your arms that you fail to notice the figure standing at the side of the road, lounging in front of a small family-owned restaurant that was closed for the evening. His robes are a dark green color, stained with something along the front that left it dark and greasy, a bottle of something strong-smelling in his clutched fist.

You hadn’t noticed him at first, but you suddenly go stiff as he whistles, the bottle crashing to the ground and shattering. Freezing only momentarily, you quickly keep moving, trying to ignore the way the man is calling after you.

Hey, get back here, woman, he’d slurred, even audibly sounding drunk.

The rather weak torches stationed every few meters along the street make it difficult to see behind you, but you can clearly hear his footsteps getting closer.

You can also hear the distinct lack of others’ footsteps, meaning you’re totally alone with a drunk man seemingly intent on bothering you.

Gulping, you keep your shoulders low, trying to curl into yourself but keeping the same pace, hoping by some stroke of luck the man would lose interest or give up on following you. Your home was only a few blocks away, if you could just push a little further maybe you’d be able to close him off at the door, and surely he’d stop then, right? He’d be too bored waiting outside for you, surely.

Hey bitch, turn around! His hand is suddenly on your shoulder, fingertips digging tightly against your clothed skin and making you wince slightly. He’s taller than you’d thought, something that becomes frighteningly obvious as he turns you to face him.

He’s sneering, lips curling up into something ugly that makes your gut twist. His breath reeksof the same sour, alcohol-baked scent, and as he leans in, you try your best to step away, leaning away from his approach.

Please leave me alone, you try, your voice sounding pathetically weak even to your own ears. He’s strong, you can tell – the dingy clothing hid his physique, but it’s not hard to feel the way his grip tightens, the way he makes an unpleasant noise that has fear prickling up your spine.

What did you just say to me? He asks, baring his teeth and moving to cup your jaw between his fingers, pressing his thumb against your lips and pressing hard enough to make you squirm, the pressure against your teeth making your panic only grow worse. He cocks a brow at your struggling, his smile creeping up again as his free hand came up to rest at your hip, moving down and towards your middle, barely passing over your clothed navel and making you open your mouth to scream. The groceries are dropped, your fear overweighing your despair at losing your week’s salary on a single grocery run.

You’re barely able to vocalize your fear before a sudden flash of white fills your peripheral, the pressure against your mouth suddenly lessening. Your body slumps down, falling to your knees on the ground as your eyes grow wide, your breaths heavy and labored as you look upon the scene before you.

The man – your savior, is standing before you, five fingers wrapped around the man’s throat and shoving him up against the wall of the nearest shop, Sanemi’s teeth bared and his own chest rising and falling rapidly.

He’s got his free hand clutched onto the hilt of his sword, and for a brief, terrifying moment you’re sure he’ll whip his blade out, perhaps slicing into the man’s guts and leaving him a bloody, mutilated pile of bones. Some sick, malevolent part of you finds a sick sort of pleasure in the idea, but your body is moving before you can even think, struggling to your feet and moving to rush forward and stop Sanemi from acting on what you’re very aware is a quick-trigger temper.

But before you can take more than a few steps, the sound of the Hashira’s voice is ringing in your ears. It’s low, gravelly, sounding as if it’s taking every bit of his concentration and self-control to not be screaming and yelling, nasally and gravely, the words clipped and uneven as his fingers tighten.

You piece of shit, touching women without their consent, you’re fucking disgusting, rot in hell –

It’s like a mantra, Sanemi sounding so very genuine and forceful, and as you stand frozen at the intensity in his voice, his words only become darker, more sinister.

Don’t touch her, don’t you fucking dare or I swear I’ll slice your head clean off and dismember your every limb. He grins, eyes going wide. I’ll slice off your cock, too, that’d be good, huh? Can’t bother any innocent women when you’re not even a man.

He punctuates this point with a kick to man’s groin, the pained groan he lets out only making Sanemi’s smile widen. You take a small step back, but Sanemi doesn’t even seem to notice.

Anyone who touches her is dead. You hear me? You’re fucking dead.

The harasser is clawing at his hand, whimpering and wheezing as his air supply grows smaller and smaller.  It’s at this point that you audibly gasp, covering your mouth with your hand and staring at him with shock, your fingers trembling and your heart racing.

That noise seems to snap Sanemi out of his trance, his muscles going rigid and his head snapping to you. His eyes widen and his lips part, the airiest whisper of your name falling from his lips, and then he’s suddenly letting go of the stranger, backing away and staring at his own hand in shock, as if he’s horrified by what his own body has done.

The man falls to the ground, curled up and coughing, but neither you nor Sanemi pay him any mind. He’s still looking at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish, mind racing as he tries to think of something to say – anything to say, really, because the way you’re looking at him right now is making his heart break, panic engulfing him because no no no now you must think he’s a violent killer and oh god you must hate him now –

He breaks the trance by rushing forward, hands immediately coming out to clutch at your shoulders, his grip noticeably softer than how he’d been choking the man. His eyes are searching over your face, glancing over every inch of your body, his breaths still coming out uneven and ragged, and Sanemi’s quickly swallowing, unsure of what to say but practically blurting out the words.

That wasn’t – I don’t – I’m not going to hurt him, I promise –

You blink at him, body stiff and unsure, but the longer he babbles on the more your muscles relax.

I wouldn’t hurt a human, I’m not a monster, I just – he was harassing you and I don’t even know what happened, I just started moving and –

You shut him up by carefully, hesitantly placing a hand over one of his, the skin contact making him suck in a sharp breath, gaze immediately zeroing in on the sight.

Your smile is only half-genuine, fear and adrenaline coursing through you, but now that the man has crawled away, cursing Sanemi out, you’re starting to calm down. You’ve spent enough time with the Hashira to know he won’t hurt you, and seeing him this worked up, this flustered and desperate to get you to believe him is proof enough that he’s telling the truth.

Stop Sanemi, I know. I understand. At that he visibly relaxes, his jaw tensing and clenching as he swallows. Thank you for saving me.

He pauses, eyebrows rising ever so slightly, before he lets out a deep, shaky exhale, nodding his head and stepping back, releasing his grip on you.

Good is all he says, still looking at you, before his grip rests once more on the hilt of his sword. He glances towards your groceries, before scowling. Are you stupid? Why the hell are you out at this hour to get groceries?

You bristle at this, familiar behavior making you shoot him a glare. Don’t judge me, not all of us can afford to have private servants cook us meals.

Sanemi scoffs. I don’t have private servants, you’re making shit up again.

You continue to bicker, still shaking slightly as you gather the groceries that fell out of the bag upon impact with the ground. Sanemi begrudgingly helps you, forcing you to let him carry both bags while he escorts you home, berating you for being out at this time the entire way.

It’s only later that night that you really truly think about what had happened, his words ringing through your mind because why had Sanemi said that? How had he even known where you were, much less that you were in danger?

You’re not sure, but as you slip under your covers and bury your face against your pillow, you find yourself brushing aside the odd coincidental nature of the encounter, instead finding yourself thankful that Sanemi was there to intervene before things got truly bad.

(Meanwhile, Sanemi is staying true to his promise of not killing any humans – though he’s quick to track down the drunk man, scoffing at the state of him. He’d fallen asleep, evidently, laying on the dirty streetcorner a ways away from your home. Rage overcomes him as he recalls the way this man had touched you, even going so far as to grope your most intimate region without your permission, anger and even a small bit of jealousy overwhelming Sanemi.

He'll certainly not kill the man, but he wasn’t lying when he promised to slice off the man’s cock – he wouldn’t miss it, would he? Besides, he tells himself as he cuts clean and quick lines, it’s for you. This way, the creep might not feel the need to harass you again, and might keep his filthy hands to himself.

And when Sanemi drops him off unceremoniously outside the doors of the nearest medical house, he can only scoff, turning his back on the bleeding man and listening as the medics immediately begin swarming him.

He doesn’t like hurting humans, sure, but for you? Well, the walk back to your home is short, and as he slips inside, standing at the foot of your bed and swallowing at the sight of your sleeping form, he feels himself visibly relax. You’re just too perfect – and as he inhales the smell of you, he knows he’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe, keeping you his.)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Though Sanemi can’t deny the allure of domesticity with you, kidnapping you is actually something he is very strongly against. It’s a combination of factors that leave him hesitant to steal you away – he’s worried that it would permanently alter your personality, and he doesn’t want you to fear him.

He’s lucid enough to know that his feelings for you border and delve into creep territory, his penchant for following you and compulsively checking on you making it difficult to see himself as anything other than a pathetically obsessed man chasing and lusting after an innocent civilian woman.

And yet, he can’t stop himself from wanting you, needing you so badly that it physically hurts, and so Sanemi gives into his more disturbing urges with the clear, resolute promise to himself that he’ll never do anything truly drastic.

And of course, kidnapping you falls into this category. It’s the only way he can justify following you around, fantasizing about holding you and touching you and hearing you say his name. It’s the only way he can calm himself down when moments of lucidity and clarity come rushing at him, guilt clawing at his throat because why the fuck is he hovering over your sleeping figure and reaching into his trousers right now?

He doesn’t trust himself around you, and that’s only another deterrent to keeping you locked up and away with him. It’s like he’s not in control of his body when you’re present – he’s always looking at you, sneaking glances even when he explicitly tells himself not to.

(Even when he instigates a sort of punishment system for himself – he clenches his fist hard enough to draw blood or pinches himself too tightly every time he catches himself doing it, trying to break the habit. Instead, however, he finds himself littered in bruises and all sorts of crescent-shaped marks on his palms, his will-power no match for the way he needs to be looking at you constantly.)

He’s always gravitating towards you, keeping his body facing in your direction, just so that if you do something or say something he’ll be able to immediately respond, every fiber of his being hoping that you’ll reach out, that you’ll speak to him, that you’ll acknowledge him.

(Hell, he’s even lost control subconsciously – he’s puffing his chest out without thinking about it when you’re around him, subtly trying to make the deep slit in his uniform go wider so that you can see more of his corded muscles, clenching his abs tightly enough to make the definition impossible to ignore. He’s running his hands through his hair the moment someone mentions your name, swiping his bangs out of his eyes just to look presentable, just so that if you see him you’ll maybe, just maybe find him attractive and appealing.)

It’s pathetic, he thinks, and he’s terrified that once you’re stolen away by his side, trapped with him as your sole companionship and provider (an idea that does, of course, make something pleasurable and good roll up his spine), these behaviors will only get worse. If he can’t control himself when he’s still physically distant from you, who knows what he’ll feel at liberty to do once you have nowhere else to run.

He’ll never hurt you, he’s sure of it, but he really, really doubts that you’ll be comfortable with all of the things that his subconscious wants to do to you. He’s sure you don’t particularly want to be encaged in his arms while he squeezes and squeezes and squeezes, trying to get you as close as physically possible because he’s still irritated that he can’t live inside of your skin.

(But what if he crushes you, or somehow breaks your bones with the strength of his affection? It’s enough to get him biting his lip, staring down at his open palms and scowling, frustrated at himself because he knows the euphoria of touching you will make him stupid.)

He’s sure you don’t want him to hand-feed you, bringing the chopsticks up to your mouth, watching your pretty, soft lips open up and letting him place the home-cooked food against your tongue.

(And seeing you looking at him with your mouth open, taking something that he’s made and given to you against your tongue will have him flushing, swallowing heavily and having to look away because fuck he’s such a pervert and he’s ruining a sweet moment by growing unbearably hard in his trousers, and oh god – what if there’s a wet spot when he stands up? Will you notice? Fuck fuck fuck!)

It’s a recipe for disaster, not to mention the fact that your fear and hesitance would likely force you to become a shell of your former self. You’d be reduced to nothing but a skeleton of your personality, and that’s the absolute last thing Sanemi wants. He wants you – authentically, fully, as you are when you’re free and independent. And stealing you away would change that, he’s sure – and he’d never forgive himself for diminishing even a flicker of your light.

But of course, misfortune seems to follow Sanemi like some sort of sick joke – it’s only a matter of time before something terrible happens.

It’s a demon attack, likely. Perhaps some demon has noticed that a Hashira seems to hold a penchant for a particular human, and with his marechi blood they’re very, very eager to lure him out and feast on him. And in the process, you get caught in the crossfire – it’s rare that Sanemi leaves you completely and truly alone, but when he’s been summoned for a mission, he can’t exactly decline.

And so, he rushes through the job, quickly finding the demon and slaughtering it in the quickest, fastest way possible before immediately returning back to you, falling into the shadows so that he can continue to keep an eye on you, letting out a rather harsh breath when he finally spots you again, in tact and unharmed.

Except one night, as he sprints through the dark forest, he sees the very faint outline of your home and immediately his eyes go wide.

Your front door is wide open.

He generally thinks you’re rather careless about your safety, sure, but even you aren’t that bad – something is wrong. He pushes himself to run faster, harder, his breaths sounding more like wheezing as he descend on your house, immediately rushing inside and drawing his sword. The adrenaline coursing through his veins only makes him falter for a moment upon seeing his absolute worst nightmare – you’re on the ground, eyes slowly blinking and your body crumpled up, most of your visible skin covered with blood.

His nostrils flare, the sight of the demon crouching over you making his grip on the sword hilt so tight his knuckles turn white, something akin to a genuine growl coming from him.

Get the hell away from her!

He’s yelling and charging, immediately activating his breathing technique and beheading the creature before it can even react. His chest is still heaving, and despite the black mist that begins to appear on the creature’s neck, he’s immediately settling down, straddling the creature and throwing punch after punch. It’s bloody – it’s spraying all over his uniform, staining the white as his fists dig into flesh, denting and tearing and destroying, all the while Sanemi is yelling at it, cursing and calling it a vile, disgusting creature, claiming it’s trying to hurt and kill his woman.

It’s terrifying, really, and as you slowly lose consciousness you’ll find yourself feeling even more terrified, unsure of what’s happening.

And as the demon disappears, Sanemi slowly calms down, gathering his senses and immediately grabbing you, carrying you to the Butterfly Mansion as quickly as his legs can carry him. He doesn’t want to bring you home (or at least, he knows he shouldn’t), but once Shinobu has you patched up and he returns to your now blood-stained abode, Sanemi’s biting his lip, wavering.

He can’t let you come back here – not with the knowledge that you could be attacked again, not when you’re out of his sight and protection, not when you’re so very vulnerable. And so, he begrudgingly brings you back to his estate, settling you into the bedroom as far away from his own as possible.

(He’d refrained from keeping you in the room he’s spent the last few months pretending was your own, too – outfitted with all of the items he’s bought for you but been too afraid to give to you: all sorts of hairpins, beautiful weavings, flowers, even small, curtly written notes he’d been crazed enough to write in the dead of night when he just could not stop thinking of you. No, that’d be too much – he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he locks that room up, praying that you never, ever find out about it.)

When you awake, you’ll find yourself changed into fresh, clean clothing (soft clothing, too, the kind that you could never afford), tucked into a bed in a room you don’t recognize. The futon is soft, the sheets warm and decorated with a pattern and color that you distinctly note is a favorite of yours. Your entire body hurts, wincing as you sit up.

It’s only then that the door slides open, a tuft of white hair greeting you as Sanemi clears his throat, wide eyes glancing at every visible part of your body. He’s rather curt when he explains where you are, glossing over the why and instead cryptically reiterating that you’re safe now, so drop it.

As a captor, Sanemi is surprisingly attentive – you’d known each other before your  kidnapping, of course, though he’d always seemed like a rather hot-headed, difficult man.

And those mannerisms certainly don’t change when he’s got you trapped with him – except now you can see that there’s something deeper under the surface, something vulnerable and raw and real. You’ll see it in the way that he touches you like you’re made of glass – shying away and retracting his hands just moments before they touch your skin, acting almost as if the idea of touching you repulses him.

(God, nothing could be less true – he so desperately wishes to brush his fingertips against the smooth skin of your thighs, to cup your cheeks in his palms, to press his lips against yours – softly, slowly, as if he can’t quite believe that you’re real.)

You’ll see it in the way that he has every meal cooked and prepared for you, the Wind Estate quiet and empty except for the two of you. It’s always your favorite foods, cooked with every idiosyncrasy and taste of yours in mind, with a level and degree of accuracy that will terrify you at first.

And frankly, you will be terrified at first – he’s reluctant to admit his feelings to you, sure that if you were to know the truth of the situation you’d immediately reject him, and as stupid as it is Sanemi doesn’t think he could handle your rejection. It would break him, emotionally, physically, and mentally, leaving him a shell of a man and still just as desperately, pathetically in love with you if not more so.

But the reason you’ll be terrified isn’t because of his demeanor or the way you think he feels – rather, it will become obvious very quickly that Sanemi knows much more about you than you thought. You know you’ve never told him your preferred menstrual supplies, and yet the bathroom he’s assigned to you is stocked full of the exact model and heaviness you prefer.

(It’s your own bathroom, thankfully, though when you’re asleep sometimes Sanemi will sneak in, picking up your toothbrush and letting it sit against his lips, suckling at the bristles and rifling through your trash just to find a pad or two when he knows you’re menstruating. He’d rather slice off his own hand than admit it to you, of course, but just being in a space that you regularly use makes him feel special, connected to you in a way that makes his knees weak and the smallest, faintest of smiles cross his lips.)

You’re sure you’ve never mentioned what clothing size you wear, and yet there’s a slew of brand new, beautifully made kimonos and lounging wear perfectly tailored to your body, all in a range of colors and designs that are your favorites.

(There’s also a few in a lime green material and a single, pure white one, both of which were guilty pleasures that Sanemi felt compelled to include in his orders from the local seamstresses. And if you were to wear one, willingly, during a shared meal with him? Well, don’t comment on the pink color of his cheeks, nor the way he ever so slightly stutters when he tells you that you look nice.)

Frankly, he’s a pretty good captor to have – he gives you space, and forces himself to stay away from you for most of the day in an effort to not overwhelm you. At least, at the beginning. He tells himself it’s enough to know that you’re locked up in the Wind Estate, safe and sound and perfectly removed from the danger of the outside world, but his paranoia and yearning for your company eventually drive him to spend just a hair more time with you.

Instead of giving you privacy during meals, he’ll instead knock at your door, entering with his own plate and sitting down as far away from you as possible within the room, silently eating and trying not to make his staring too obvious.

(He mentally justifies it as making sure that you don’t choke on your food, but really it’s more about seeing you enjoy what he’s made for you and knowing that you’ve eaten today. Good. He'll sharply inhale, biting back a smile as he slowly eats his own food, trying to prolong the moment.)

He spoils you with all sorts of gifts and supplies for any hobbies you may have, and while he initially doesn’t interact with you as you knit or draw or read, eventually he’ll gather the courage to ask you a question, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant as he asks what it is that you’re drawing, how to knit, or what your favorite book is.

It’s a slow but steady process, and as time passes and you grow more and more complacent with your situation, you’ll find yourself coming to enjoy the rough, oddly charming presence of Sanemi. Even if his stalking and feelings for you become an unspoken truth, his fondness for you difficult to ignore (with the way he treats you so gently, spoils you, and very poorly hides the way his cock springs to life each time you say his name).

And so really, Sanemi feels guilty enough for being in love with you, and even more guilty for forcing you into a life of complacency �� the least you could do is compliment him, right? You could at least invite him to join you for meals and walks around the modest garden of his estate. You could at least intertwine your fingers with his and pretend to not notice the way he gasps, mumbling something incoherent that sounds vaguely like your name.

Really, it’s the least you could do – and with every action, Sanemi only falls for you harder, deeper, his resolve to keep you safe, happy and his only growing.

PUNISHMENTS:

While his obsession with you alters certain parts of his personality, some characteristics remain absolutely true regardless of his feelings for you. And unfortunately, one of them is his quick-trigger temper.

You calm him, the mere sound of your voice making the tension in his muscle relax, the clenching of his jaw lessening slightly, the tensing of his shoulders becoming less pronounced. The feeling of your hand pressing against his chest makes him freeze in place, the anger simmering in his gut becoming more diluted, the rage slowly leaving him because god, you’re standing right in front of him and he can see every fine detail of your face and he can smell you and god…

You have a physical effect on him that calms him ever so slightly, but he still finds himself remarkably susceptible to rage, even with you in his vicinity.

Of course, rarely ever is he actually mad at you – early into his infatuation he’d found himself constantly irritated and enraged at you, convinced that you’d somehow purposefully made him into the lovesick fool that he is, unable and unwilling to admit to himself that it’s entirely his own doing leading to his spiral into dependence on you. He’d even tried to hate you, consciously filling his head with lies and telling himself that you were weak, a burden, only something that would slow him down. And yet, the anger was never quite real, never quite honest.

(Never directed at you, really, but more directed at himself for being so weak as to form such strong, dependent feelings on you.)

And so, Sanemi’s anger more often than not revolves around someone else – often, someone around you. Men that get too close, friends that meddle when they notice that you have Sanemi as an unwanted admirer, your boss when they treat you poorly, even strangers that are even the slightest bit rude to you.

He’ll never go far enough as to injure another human to point of death, if only because he’s still guided by morals that yearn to save humans, but Sanemi is absolutely committed to making sure that you’re treated like the royalty that he perceives you as.

(Often, any men that feel bold enough to approach you, or god forbid touch you meet a bloody, painful altercation with the Hashira, unable to do anything but be pounded into a pulp as he swings and punches, leaving them a bloody semi-conscious mess on the ground, even spitting onto them as he mutters something about being a fuckin’ monster, assaulting women like it’s nothing…)

But all that said, there are a few very specific things that can get Sanemi angry at you, too. He can forgive you lashing out at him and calling him terrible names, even openly welcoming it sometimes because he knows it’s true.

He’s mostly worried when you attempt to escape rather than angry, terrified that you’ll somehow hurt yourself or be eaten by a demon if you manage to get through the patch of wisteria trees surrounding the perimeter of his estate. Instead, his main triggers are when you injure yourself, or when you say something negative or degrading about yourself.

 He’s so paranoid about your safety and health that the mere idea of you injuring yourself gets him borderline panicking, his breathing getting heavier and his hands starting to tremble as panic engulfs him because he absolutely cannot lose you, too.

He’s always quick to reprimand you, yelling at you but dressing your wounds as gently as possible, treating you as if you’re made of glass and cleaning everything perfectly to prevent any further harm. But really, what truly angers Sanemi is when you display a lack of self-respect, though he’ll never explicitly punish you.

He loves you – so much so that it physically hurts, his chest aching when he’s away from you, every muscle growing restless and anxiety settling in his gut because he needs to see you right now. He’s a worshipper in every sense of the word, and to have you disrespecting yourself and talking down to yourself in any capacity is enough to get his blood boiling. It’s two-fold, really, because not only is it an assault on your character, but it’s an assault on his, too. It’s a remark against him for thinking of you so highly, for revering you and kissing the ground you walk on. It bruises his pride and makes him defensive of you, even if it’s you yourself making the remark.

And so, Sanemi tends to grow angry, unable to comprehend how you can possibly see yourself as something less-than when he’s so utterly enraptured with every fiber of your being.

Being trapped with him means long expanses of time where you’re alone, Sanemi out on a mission or pulled away begrudgingly, and as time passes this will slowly start to affect you.

Too much alone time equates to an awful lot of staring in the mirror, fingers prodding at the skin of your cheeks or arranging your hair this way or that, furrowing your brow and trying to understand exactly what it is about you that makes Sanemi so enthralled. You can’t put your finger on it – you’re just you, and while he’s never come right out and said it, you’re very aware that Sanemi finds you beautiful.

(You’ve overheard him, after all, late at night when he’s muffling his groans and the wet schlock schlock noise is audible even through the wall separating you. It’s difficult to not hear it, after all, when he’s moaning your name as he gets close, stuttered curses and little gasps of s-so beautiful, fuck and all sorts of other praises slipping out of him as his orgasm approaches.)

It’s too much time for you to be alone and overanalyze. And even now that you’ve been with him for well over a year, now that your whole world has become Sanemi Shinazugawa, it’s too easy to let the insecurities get the best of you.

And really, you shouldn’t have ever mentioned it – later that night, when Sanemi returns home from his latest mission, he can immediately tell that something is wrong. He closes and locks the multitude of locks on the front door, glancing at you with skepticism and worry, before placing his hands on your hips and pulling you close, leaving a single long kiss against your forehead as he asks you what’s wrong. Your small mumble of nothing doesn’t convince him, but Sanemi just pushes it aside, deciding to revisit the subject after you’ve both eaten.

 Dinner is quiet, and it’s halfway through that he decides enough is enough.

What the hell’s the matter with you? He’s asking, setting down his chopsticks and staring pointedly at you.

You’re not too terribly afraid of your captor by this point, but the intensity of his stare still makes you fold in on yourself slightly, embarrassment and self-consciousness eating away at you. Sanemi continues the staring, unwilling to back down, eventually scoffing and telling you to just spit it out, I’ll wait as long as it takes.

And that you believe, enough to get you blurting out a quick I’m not good enough for you to be so in love with.

It’s slurred and difficult to understand even to your own ears, but it gets Sanemi’s face twisting up, a mixture of shock and confusion making his brows knit together and that familiar scowl sit on his lips.

What the fuck? It’s all he can ask, really, because this is so out of left field and unexpected that he genuinely has no clue how to respond.

At his pointed confusion and silence, you play with your thumbs, hunger totally gone as the words start falling out of you like some sort of nervous word vomit. It’s just that I don’t really get why you’re so – so fixated on me. I’m nothing special, and before you get angry at me just know that it’s okay and I’m not trying to get away I just –

Sanemi cuts you off by rising to his feet before you can even blink, a hand snapping out to wrap around your wrist. Before you know it you’re being dragged down a series of long hallways until you come face to face with a door you’ve never set foot passed – Sanemi’s personal, private room.

Normally, when the two of you share a bed (something that has only recently begun happening, after Sanemi gathered the courage and you’ve become so touch-starved that you welcomed his presence), you sleep in the room he's had made up for you, Sanemi allowing you to stay in the quasi-comfort of your ‘own’ room rather than force you into yet another unfamiliar situation.

 But you hardly have any time to gawk at the room before he’s shoving you in front of his modest mirror, the reflection of yourself making you blink twice. He's angry – you can see his face in the mirror now, and his cheeks area  bright red and a few veins are standing out against his neck, a sure sign that he’s livid and is only barely able to hold himself back from acting on it.

 It makes you shrink slightly, though you’re confident at this point that he won’t hurt you, at least not purposefully.

Look at yourself, he tells you, voice strained. He’s standing behind you, gripping onto your shoulders and forcing you to face yourself in the mirror.

You do as you’re told, but it doesn’t seem to satisfy Sanemi.

He groans, resting his forehead against the slope of your shoulder. Look at yourself.

A pause, then: Please.

Swallowing, you search each and every feature of your familiar face. Your eyes, nose, lips, cheeks, eyebrows, jaw, anything and everything you can think of. After a few moments, Sanemi looks at you in the mirror again, his eyebrows furrowed tightly.

Do you really not see it? He asks, and you merely shake your head.

He bares his teeth. Dammit, how can you not? How can you be so fucking blind?

It’s harsh, his words making you wince slightly, but they’re loaded with something unlike his usual rage – there’s something sweeter to it, something that feels different and gets you meeting his gaze in the mirror. The look on his face is almost pleading, and you’re struck with the realization that he’s not angry, he’s frustrated. Genuinely frustrated that you don’t seem to understand just what he sees in you.

Slowly, you bring your fingers up to your cheeks, fingertips pressing against the soft skin. Sanemi watches you with bated breath, his grip on you still tight.

Compliment yourself, he instructs, the words sounding strained. You blink at him, swallowing heavily.

You mutter out a small comment of how your eyes aren’t too terrible, and Sanemi groans at that. His hand moves from your shoulder to your chin, pinching at it and bringing you closer to the mirror. Give yourself a real compliment, or I’ll stand here all fucking day until you do.

You tell him that you have pretty eyes, and it seems to please him. He nods, almost subconsciously, keeping his grip on your chin. Damn right you do. Pretty eyes and a pretty smile. Tell me more.

He keeps you in this position for nearly an hour, forcing you to list off each and every possible compliment about your looks and personality that you can think, his gaze never wavering in intensity or sincerity as he grunts and nods at each and every one.

It’s only as your jaw starts to ache and you start to grow restless that Sanemi eventually lets go, turning you gently to face him. A finger lightly traces over the shape of your lips as he exhales, the softness of his actions and the moment making you feel light.

Don’t undersell yourself. His voice is firm, his lips set in a thin line. You’re perfect, and you need to accept that.

He covers your mouth with his hand as you part your lips to respond, shaking his head. No, none of that shit. We’re doing this every day until you decide that you’re good enough for me – until you prove to me that you respect yourself the way you should. New compliments every day, and I don’t care how hard it is for you. When you run out, I’ll step in, but you’re elaborating on everything I say. Got it?

You nod, a strange sort of tenderness welling up inside of you that only makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes because oh god, how wrong is this? Your captor, the man who stole you away and keeps you trapped inside his him, is complimenting you and it’s making you feel more loved and wanted and appreciated than you’ve felt in your whole life. There’s just something so sincere about his push for you to understand just how wonderful he thinks you are that makes your lower lip wobble, the way he’s actually genuinely enraged by your insecurities and the absurdness of them making your nose tingle.

It's sweet, something your captor really shouldn’t be, and as tears slip down your cheeks Sanemi awkwardly presses you against his chest, silent as his grip grows progressively tighter. He’s no stranger to insecurity, and as he drags you to the mirror the next day and the next after that, you’ll slowly find yourself believing him when he says that you’re kind, that you’re beautiful, that he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything else in his life.

It's strange and you may hate yourself for it, but as the days pass you’ll find yourself growing more and more fond of Sanemi, his commitment to improving your self-esteem feeling like the more intimate thing anyone has every done for you, and slowly you’ll find yourself seeing him in more and more of a romantic light. Sure, he’s stolen you away and stalked you extensively, but when he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear and calls you beautiful in a voice so raw that it cracks, how can you not fall for him? Maybe you’re sick in the head, depraved, any number of terrible things, but with each compliment he forces from your lips, you’ll find yourself caring less.

He just really, really loves you, doesn’t he?

OVERALL DANGER:

4/10

By and large, Sanemi is akin to a large, possessive guard dog. The mere thought of hurting you makes him sick to his stomach, and he’ll go to any possible length to ensure your health and safety.

(He’s had literal nightmares about leaving you bloody and bruised, and he’s actually woken up and immediately hurled, breathing hard and nearly in tears because it felt so real and it’s almost like your blood is actually on his hands.)

He’s paranoid, terrified that you’ll somehow be killed and stolen away from him, your presence the only thing that seems to calm him, growing to become the only thing that motivates him to wake up every morning.

He’s overprotective, letting his fear for your safety bleed into every aspect of his relationship with you – he’s following you around like a lovesick puppy, constantly vigilant for threats to your safety. He’s obsessively tracking your meals, fussing over making sure that you’re getting balanced, nutritious foods, constantly asking you if you’ve drunk water on any particular day.

And he’s possessive – refusing to allow you to interact with most men, skeptical of your friends, entirely untrusting of each and every person in your life. He won’t try to manipulate you into isolating yourself, but Sanemi really, really wants to, only holding back for the sake of your mental wellbeing. And really, that’s a large factor in Sanemi’s behavior towards you – he loves you, or at least in his own deranged, too-intense way, and he’s willing to kill himself physically and emotionally just to make sure that you never frown, that you’re never sad or angry or afraid.

His first priority is you, always, and it’s only after that that he considers getting you to love him back. It’s of course the goal – he wants you so badly that you have no fucking clue, because how could you? How could you possibly understand just how deeply his dependence on you has become, just how intertwined a mere scrap of your attention becomes for his self-confidence, his happiness, his sanity in his day-to-day life?

He’s well and truly whipped for you, his every waking thought revolving around you, but you’ll that your life will be relatively good with him. He’ll treat you like a queen, spoiling you and doing everything in his power to keep you happy, and can you really hate it as much as you claim to?

Can you really, honestly say that Sanemi is a monster when he keeps you well cared for and respects you despite the way you know he wants to ravage you and keep you all for himself?

Can you honestly say that you don’t want him just as badly, that you’ve become so accustomed to him that you’re well and truly his?

Sanemi sure hopes not, and as time passes, you’ll slowly give into the small, desperately and pathetically hopeful looks of his, reaching out to touch him when he’s too hesitant to initiate, even whispering those lovely, sacred three little words. And once you do, he’ll only work harder to adore you, only falling deeper and deeper into obsession with every passing day.

With every passing second, really.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You can sense the reluctance as Thor drags his finger around the crumbs on his plate. You cannot mirror the sentiment. You are desperate to get away. You wipe your fingers with a napkin and cough. 

“Thanks, uh, again, that was really nice but I should probably go.” You look around evasively. 

“Oh?” He utters flatly. “Should? We could go for a walk? See a movie? I must admit, I didn’t get to see much when I was away. I have much to catch on.” 

You make yourself look at him. Despite his size and strength, even his age, there’s something very puppyish about him. That twinkle in his eye gleams with hopefulness, a stark contrast to your own doom. 

“Well, you know, I gotta get back to the house. My stepdad’s super paranoid and I did say I’d hold down the fort, so... yeah.” 

He nods as his brows arch curiously. 

“They’re off on vacation and he thinks the neighbour’s been dumping grass trimming in the back...” 

“Away? Without you?” Thor wonders. 

You have to keep from visibly cringing. Again, you said too much. Just like online. Just like how you got yourself into this mess. You give a sheepish smile. 

“Well, I have work so... just couldn’t make it work.” 

“But you have the house to yourself?” He asks. 

You stare at him and nod. Shit. 

“If your stepfather worries, would it not be better for you to have some protection? My queen, I must admit, to think of you all alone, it makes me worry,” he taps on the edge of his plate. “All those months in prison, I worried. I could not wait to be out, not only to look upon your beauty in the flesh but to make sure that you are safe.” 

Your breath clogs in your chest. You squirm. Your lies always just compound into a trap. This is why honesty is best yet you know telling him the whole truth won’t help you now. 

“Well, maybe you can walk me home?” You shrug. “Like I said, my stepdad. Super controlling, I don’t think he’d be okay with me having company.” 

He narrows his eyes and sits back, puffing his large chest as he strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Mm, yes, this stepfather of yours, he does sound as controlling as a prison guard. Well, my queen, you needn’t mind the peasants. Your king is here.” 

“Thor, please, it’s fine. I... he’s not that bad and I... I live there so... it’s the least I can do,” you shrug. 

“Not for much longer. You should not live with him if he cannot trust you. If he cannot see you for the treasure you are,” he crosses his arms, his muscles bulging in the flannel. “You deserve a castle of your own.” 

“Right, uh, that’s so sweet but really, I’m tired. I need to go,” you cautiously stand and put your empty mug on the small plate. 

“Yes, my queen, you have blessed me on this happy day, when at last we are together,” he stands and gathers his own dishes before reaching for yours. “Do not trouble yourself. Allow me to serve you as you deserve.” 

You let him take the plate. You watch him go to the counter and leave them there. You hurry for the door. Not quick enough. He’s there to meet you. He opens it in his gentlemanly way and you step out. 

“I have to catch the bus, you know? So you don’t need to come all this way.” 

“The bus? No, my queen, I have a vehicle,” he assures as he catches up to you. You wince as he wraps his arm around you, his hand firmly on your cushy hip.  

You touch his knuckles as you squeak. “Oh.” 

“Forgive me, queen, I cannot help myself,” he growls. “I finally have you near...” he squeezes as he leads you the sidewalk, “and you are softer than I could know.” 

“Please, er,” you look around. “I... not in public.” 

“Yes, my queen,” he recoils, dragging his hand across your back with a huff. “I understand, you would save our love only for us.” 

“Um, sure, yes, exactly,” you agree frantically. 

“This is me,” he points to a big red truck.  

You slow and eye the bright paint. It’s not what you expect. It looks brand new. You eye him warily. He wouldn’t steal on day one? Well, you know his record. He’s done worse. You shiver at the thought. 

He opens the door once more. He helps you up into the lifted truck. You’re dizzy, not just from the height. This whole situation is disorienting. 

You stare through the windshield. Pedestrians trawl by lazily, ignorant to your predicament. If they knew, they’d judge you anyway. Stupid girl. 

You should’ve left it alone. You should have stayed alone. Nope, you just needed to feel special. You needed to let these dirty old criminals tell you the same things they’d say to a forty-year-old. It was never real. Or never should have been. 

“My queen,” he snaps in his seat belt. You glance over at how it stretches over his thick torso. “You must secure yourself.” 

Your eyes flick back and forth. You cough and nod. You click the seat belt in and fight to release the air trapped in your chest. 

“Do you work tomorrow, my love?” He asks as he turns the engine. 

You brace the interior of the door and force the breath through your nose. Your blood is boiling. You can’t think fast enough to lie. Haven't you done enough of that? 

“Nope,” you gulp. 

“Perfect, then I shall plan us a wonderful day,” he proclaims. “And we will be together and happy.” 

“Thor, I... I have chores,” you eke out. That’s not a lie. You told your stepdad you’d take care of the place and you slacked on the vacuuming and laundry. 

“Hm, yes, a very responsible woman. It is how I know you will make a good wife. Well, I could assist--” 

“Wife--” You squeak and curl your fingers around the handle of the door. “Thor.” 

“Yes, well, we will take it one step at a time,” he grins at the road as he steers. Somehow, he seems too small for the gargantuan vehicle. “I’ve not yet kissed you as I’ve longed to. Held you. Worshipped you from head to toe.” A breath rumbles up from his chest and plumes from his nose in a growl. He shifts in the seat. “You cannot know how you’ve saved me, queen. You kept me good. You got me out.” 

You press yourself to your seat and pray for spontaneous combustion. He stops at a light and hums. His large fingers tap the ridges of the wheel. 

“Which way do I go, my queen?” 

You point. Your voice is stuck deep down in your gut. He turns and you blink away the horror. You manage to pluck out a sliver of courage. You use it to guide him to your stepfather’s house. The thought of being away from him is what gets you through. 

He stops at the curb as you declare your arrival. He reaches and grips the seat above your shoulder. You pause as your hand rests on the seat belt. Your heart pounds. Is he going to do something? 

“My queen, I hate to part so soon after waiting so long,” he slips his hand free and strokes your cheek. “But to look upon your beauty, to have you near at all, will soothe me for a time.” 

He cradles your face, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone. His touch alone dwarfs you. Your brain swirls like overcooked soup. You’re going to pass out. 

“I-- thank you, I... that’s-- thanks for the ride but I...” You cautiously look away. 

“Yes, yes, I promised to deliver you unscathed.” He retracts his touch and inhales deeply. 

He undoes his seat belt as he puffs out his reluctance. He gets out and you unbuckle. He opens your door and lifts you out before you can resist. You yelp, once more startled by his easy strength. 

He places you on your feet and you don’t think before you grab him for stability. Your legs are hollow and shaking. The longer he’s around, the more dire, the more real it all is. 

“Allow me to escort you to the door. For safekeeping,” he hooks his arm through yours and guides you up the walk. 

You move on instinct alone. The instinct to get away. You stop at the door and pull away to find your keys. You feel his gaze on you. 

“Before I leave, my queen, a kiss?” He sounds as nervous as you are.  

You look at him, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice. You make a noise and wet the roof of your mouth. Your chest fills with sand. Your lips open and close. 

“Okay?” You utter. 

His cheeks pinken slightly. You stare at him. Why did you say that? 

He smiles and puts his hand on your shoulder as he makes you face him. You quiver as he bends and his other hand comes up under your chin. You squeak as his mouth meets yours. His tongue flicks across your lips but does not delve deeper. 

He parts with a hum. You stare wide-eyed. His tongue glides out to taste his lips. You babble. 

“My queen? Are you unwell?” 

“I never...” you trail off and shake your head. 

You yank your keys free of your bag and face the door. He stays close, “you never kissed a man? Only me?” He wonders. “You saved yourself for me, my queen. I am honoured.” 

You choke and struggle to open the door. Heat encases your body. You push the door inward and it hits the side table just inside. 

“Uh, yeah, er, bye,” you flit through and quickly swing the door shut.  

You lock it and lean into the wood for good measure. You blink and press your back to the door. The smart screen on the side table shows Thor on the doorbell cam. He runs his hand down the door before he goes, his steps heavy. 

You blow out a breath and sink down onto the mat. You sit and stare down the hall as you listen to the engine turn. You stay there until it rumbles off down the street. 

Your daze is broken by the jitter of your phone. You blindly take it out. It’s Andy. Shit. 

You swipe the call away and get up. You leave your shoes by the door and head up to the guest room. You toss your bag on the bed and pace around with your phone. 

Do you call the cops? What did Thor do? You’ve watched those TV shows on stalkers. You’ve seen the horror stories of indifference. Take notes. That’s what they say. What good are notes going to do against a man like that? 

You yipe as your phone shakes again. Andy, leave me alone. You answer, just to get him off your back. 

“Hi,” you answer sharply. 

He sighs. “What did I say about guests?” 

“Huh?” 

“I said none, didn’t I?” He challenges. You blink, confused. 

“What?” You stop and frown at the wall. The door cam. He checks that app incessantly. “No, they just drove me back.” 

“Is that all?” He scoffs. You know he saw it all. You want to throw up. 

“Andy, please, he’s gone--” 

“Bit old for you,” he snorts. 

You shake your head, “I’m an adult.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he clucks. “You’re lucky your mom took the kids for a hike. I’m sure she’d be less than impressed to see you doing that.” 

“I...” you shrug. He hates everything you do. 

“I didn’t think you were that kind of girl,” he says. Your stomach knots. What does he mean? “You always were so nice.” 

You sniff, “it won’t happen again.” 

“Hm,” he tisks, “not any of my business. It’s just my house.” 

“I get it. Okay?” 

“Do you? You know exactly what you’re doing with that old man?” He sneers. 

“What do you care?” You blurt out. “You hate me.” 

He tuts again, “I don’t know where you got that from.” 

You wallow in silence. You can’t handle this right now. “Okay, Andy. I’m sorry.” 

“Hm, was that so hard?” He sighs again. “Don’t forget to mop the kitchen.” 

You hold back a heave of your own. How does he always know? You nod as your hand shakes around the phone. Your stepdad is nothing compared to your real problem. 

“Yes, sir.” 

He hums, “don’t be like that.” 

“Okay, Andy, I’ll mop right now.” 

“Good,” he preens victoriously. “And I’ll keep this little secret between us.” 

“Right, er, bye.” 

You hang up before your skin melts off your bones. Something about his tone has your nerves roiling. He always talks down to you. Like you’re stupid. A burden.  

Well, you’re just the baggage your mother brought to the marriage. He’s ready to offload you completely, and it might just happen sooner than he knows. The more you think about it, you almost prefer the criminal to your own stepdad. 

[hoiststowline]

Would you be able to do crush/relationship headcanons for Perceptor? I just need some more of my nerdy guy 👉🏻👈🏻

_perceptor x reader hc’s 

[a/n: sure! honestly, me too. I had sm fun writing these!! <3!!]

you’d be blissfully unaware for a long while in reference to the fact that perceptor harbors romantic feelings for you, especially with how he behaves after such a realization consumes him. not even in a vague sense, because he isn’t sharing that information, confident that he can not only keep this suppressed, but keep up appearances as normal. perceptor is unable to part with the sentiment so willingly, not when he’s already mapped out about nine different scenarios that all end with you saying no. in his mind, it’s particulars that are best to keep to himself, waiting for a better suited time then trying to shove it from his processor. even if it arises effortlessly, without doubt, every time you’re in the same room as him. perceptor carries on being friendly and congenial with you, never directing personal frustrations your way. it’s like nothing ever occurred to him, but his outward demeanor does not match the rampaging thoughts that are circling his processor on a daily basis. 

it’s become a standoff, whether you bring your feelings forward first or perceptor loses the ability to keep his stifled. and on those placing bets, it’s more than likely the former, as perceptor is pretty sure he could carry such a secret far longer. he’s found himself cowardly in that sense, afraid to break something that doesn’t need to be remedied. it’s perfect the way it is, your current friendship, and while he would be immensely elated to see it escalate to a romantic status, he’s convinced himself otherwise. the copious amounts of ‘advice’ and relentless nudging wasn’t entirely helping his case either, feeling like every time he caught your attention, someone else caught that he was after it in the first place. 

upon entering a romantic relationship, it’s effortless to tell that the things he was already doing for you were silent displays of affection. quality time or acts of service I can see being his love languages, but heavy on acts of service. anything that perceptor can assist you with, it’s an immediate response, no questions asked. he’s also the type of mech to do it without being prompted, but if you approach him with a difficult problem he’s more than happy to offer advice if that’s what you’re seeking on the subject. speaking of, he’s also a very good listener as well, hearing you out from beginning to end before proposing suggestions or pointers. you can actively see him thinking it through, wanting to extend the best possible counsel, hopeful to lead you in the best direction. on the other hand, perceptor finds himself approaching you for opinions and direction as well, pleased to have your undivided attention and suggestions for a resolution.

affection is for behind closed doors and there only. it’s private, and while perceptor is overjoyed to oblige you in the solitude of his quarters, there are small gestures that happen outside of them. well-deserved wins or favorable outcomes merit celebration. perceptor finds that high-fives regarding achievements make you laugh. laughter of delight, soft and meaningful as if you can’t quite find the right words to say at the given moment. neither could he, as to why he proffered his servo to you, knowing that you would wordlessly understand the implication. on several occasions, he’s willing to let you sit on his lap while he’s working, so long as it’s not dangerous. if there’s a chance for you to get hurt, it’s an instant no, but in the early stages of tests and assessments you are more than welcome to join him. perceptor sometimes waits for you to ask, other times, an impatience arises and he’d rather just have you right where he can see you. whilst sitting on his lap, he definitely hunches a bit so he can mumble each step of what he’s doing, voice just above a whisper.

[heaven4lostgirls]

prompt: elixir to induce euphoria ✧ @moonchaser-microfic ✧ wc: 674

✧ info: potion induces sudden and inexplicable sense of joy and happiness

“jamie!” remus giggles, rushing into the dorm; hastily dropping his book bag.

sirius and peter follow behind him in various states of distress, clothes rumpled, hair askew and dirt smudged on their knees.

“why do you lot look like you’ve just scrapped on the front lawns?” james scowls suspiciously at the three of them.

remus barks a laugh, making all three of them turn to him, james with shock and suspicion, sirius and peter with disdain and weariness.

“they didn’t scrap! they chased me around the forbidden forest because i wanted to look for mooncalfs!” remus laughs while telling the story.

“err...” james says, confused.

he tilts his head towards remus while looking at sirius and peter with a ‘what the fuck is going on??’ expression.

sirius winces, smiling guiltily and james has to bite his tongue to not lash out prematurely.

“so uh, pete and i-” sirius is elbowed hard into the side.

“-gah! okay!, i thought it would be funny to slip a bit of an elixir into moony’s coffee…” sirius mumbles, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

peter is glaring at sirius with disdain and james is frowning at him too.

remus is still laughing in the corner, “ooooh someone’s in troubleeeee” he says teasingly and james can’t help but snort at the sentiment.

he just rolls his eyes and looks pointedly at the giggling boy, “what did sirius give you moons?” he asks softly.

remus beams at him, eyes all bright and sparkly that james wants to pinch his cheeks.

with minimal self restraint he hears remus tell him, “elixir to induce euphoria.” with a bright smile.

he sighs to himself, it’s not the worst option, sirius could have chosen something that put remus in mortal danger so thank merlin for small miracles.

though james does level sirius with a glare that has the long haired boy throwing his hands up in surrender.

“i said i was sorry!” he exclaims and james frowns thoughtfully, “i don’t think you did.”

a beat.

“…well i am!” he insists, and before james can argue, remus is jumping on his bed.

they all scramble to stand in front of the bed, arms outstretched incase remus falls.

“moony! get down! your back is gonna hurt later love.” james tries to reason, failing miserably to hide his panic when remus nearly rolls his ankle on the blanket, grabbing the curtain of the bed to keep himself steady.

james can feel himself losing his patience, and he frankly isn’t used to being the one who stops one of the marauders’ foolish decisions.

he holds out his hand for remus, batting his eyes before asking sickeningly sweetly, “moons, will you come and help me with something darling?” james asks gently.

remus stops jumping immediately, nodding rapidly which has james hysterically wondering whether he’ll have to check the older boy for a neck sprain or concussion later.

“jamie!” remus whispers excitedly, hushed as though he’s telling a secret only for james’ ears.

he’s safely on the floor, hand encompassed in james as james walks the both of them to his own bed to sit down.

james hums noncommittally, pulling back the covers to usher remus to sit down.

“i’m so happy!” remus says, forgoing the whispering but keeping the same beaming smile on his face.

james hears sirius make a strained sound from the back before a thump echoes, a whine of an “ow!” before the door is opened and shut again.

james is looking at remus, just looking. enamored by the look of complete contentment on his face, frown lines and furrows brows forgotten as calm peace washes over tanned features.

james is so in love, he leans forward to press a sweet kiss to remus’ hairline, hearing the brown haired boy let out a pleased hum as he wraps his arms around james’ waist.

“love you.” remus murmurs into james’ old quidditch shirt and james pulls his pack slightly to lock their gazes again.

“love you more moons” he murmurs before they both make their way under the covers.

[jesswritesthat]

Suna Rintarō: Timing

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.4k, fluff

• Your imperfect timing gifts you with information that leaves you looking back on your relationship with Suna.

Warnings: Cursing

>>>>——————————>

"Don't take this the wrong way..."

"Ya asked our honest opinion and this is it..."

"This might not be great to hear, but Suna likely won't accept yer feelings."

By all means you'd have to agree that you had the worst timing in the world right now, you'd perish before admitting it though, and decided to wait out the conversation.

Whilst his teammates were only being truthful, it still must've hurt to be told of a future rejection. It didn't stop you from eavesdropping from your spot outside the gymnasium though, as it sounded like they had more to say.

"Oh... I see. Is there a particular reason? Ah no nevermind, sorry for asking." Poor girl.

"Uh, well the truth is..."

"If ya haven't noticed it already..."

"Suna only has eyes for (Y/n)."

Oxygen was stripped from your lungs, body numb, and mind racing a mile a minute. Dangerous thoughts circling your head that you hadn't even bothered to consider because why would you?

He only has eyes for you. Bullshit.

Realistically, the only things that could possibly have brought them to that conclusion must be...

———

Suna would sometimes put your wants before his own, even if it didn’t make much sense to you at the time.

“Hey (Y/n), you coming or what?” Suna called over alongside Osamu, despite you being invested in the paper pile on your desk.

“No, I’ve gotta finish these notes. See ya later guys.”

“Yeah bye!” Suna responded with a lacklustre tone.

It was until a second later, when he slumped in the desk next to you with a dramatic groan and phone in hand, did you realise the goodbye wasn’t directed at you but rather the rest of his group. None of whom had refuted his decision.

“What are you doing? Go home!”

“Too far, decided to wait for you so hurry up.”

Even if you’d just sighed and offered a sliver of idle conversation during your work, he remained by your side until you’d completed it with an odd mutter toward whatever he was watching. Only standing from his seat when you’d began packing and waited by the door for you.

“Thanks Rintarō, for staying.”

“Whatever. Wanna get some chūpet on the way home?”

———

You also knew his running route by heart, which made it easier if you ever wanted to catch him for something. Suna always slowed down to speak to you however, not once had he passed you without acknowledgement.

It just so happened one of these times was your birthday.

In honesty you hadn’t even realised you were on his usual route, you’d been wondering by with thoughts adrift, so much so that the rhythmic padding of footsteps behind you went amiss. At least until you saw a familiar figure pass and slow a few paces ahead, turning to you with a small smirk.

“Wow, I could’ve just robbed you and you wouldn’t even know.”

“You’re not that good of a pickpocket Rin.” Crossing your arms and rolling your eyes, you’d spoken proudly.

“Either way, you’re missing this.”

He’d held up a small pouch hung on his finger, your favourite colour no less, but you’re certain it wasn’t yours (regardless of your name written on it). You carefully took it from him with scepticism, even more so when opening it to find a small keychain. It wasn’t anything special by any means, simply something you’d happened to mention liking a while ago, nonetheless it brought a small to your face.

“Happy birthday (Y/n).”

You only nodded at him, sentimental smile growing a little wider when he returned the gesture prior to jogging off again.

———

It could also be that he’d usually find a way to drag you to their games, and often when his teammates asked you could give the most sarcastic responses with an unnerving amount of nonchalance.

“So Suna invited ya this time ‘cause…?” Atsumu insinuatingly inquired, like he usually did whenever he caught you after their matches.

“He needed someone to film the two of being idiots. Blackmail privilege y’know?” You casually shrugged, scanning for Rintarō briefly before returning your attention to a pointing and agitated setter.

“Alright, that’s a lie. I refuse to believe it, this is gettin’ ridiculous!”

“Hey (Y/n).” As of on cue, Suna appeared with a blank expression to which you replied with a welcoming smirk.

“Here’s your phone Rin, I caught Atsumus’ trip in 4k.” The signature device was handed over effortlessly, the two of conversing naturally and completely oblivious to the shocked faces of Inarizaki.

“Great thanks, I’ll return the favour sometime. You enjoy the match?”

“Always, it’s nice seeing y—“

“(L/n) had his phone the whole time? Damn.” Aran commented with a hint of awe, though soon overshadowed by Atsumus’ booming outrage.

“YA JUST GAVE (Y/N) YER PHONE?!”

“And?” Came your confused voice, Osamu interjecting in this time.

“Yer not grasping the relevance of this are ya?”

“Blackmail is blackmail my friends~”

“I’ll send it you.” Suna smugly confirmed, the pair of you strolling off the court completely unaware of what his team had just cemented.

You still have that video actually.

———

…Or maybe it was the fact he’d join your side on the odd occasion when class was quieter, or in the mornings before everyone properly zoned in.

Usually the two of you could be found sitting in a corner looking like a dangerous pair with enough gossip to topple the school hierarchy at your fingertips. Other times you’d be sharing a screen commenting or intently watching whatever had garnered one of yours attention enough to share with the other…

"Psst, why are we spying?"

Immediately you'd pulled the intruder to your place against the wall, eyes remaining too focussed on the door to even check who it was as you gave a thoughtless debrief.

"A girl was going to confess but the team said Suna only has eyes for someone else."

"Oh really?"

"Shh! Be respectful or leave so she doesn't get embarrassed knowing people overhea—" By the time you'd recognised the familiar voice and turned around, it was already too late. God timing is a bitch.

"My teammates said that huh?"

"Rin."

"(Y/n).” Mocking mimicry. “Did they happen to say who?"

"…No.”

“You know, you get nervous when you lie.” His tone lowered dangerously, like he was plotting something menacing.

“I do not!” It was a hushed whisper, plan coming to fruition when he’d placed his palms either side of you, caging you against the wall.

“Then tell me (Y/n)…” His voice honeyed as he leaned closer to you with hazel eyes locked on yours. “My team didn’t mention that my eyes were only for you?”

Even if his words had brought a heat to your skin, you were quick to bite back, meeting him half way so that your noses were only a brush apart.

“SUNA!” However, you’d forgotten to hush your volume. “If you—“

Instantly the gym doors burst open, teammates and the girl rushing out upon hearing the angered yell of their conversation topic namesake.

“You really do have terrible timing (Y/n), don’t you?” Suna bemusedly muttered to you, pushing off the wall and sending a blank expression to the newcomers.

“See what we mean?” Atsumu gestured to the two of you for the girls’ sake, who seemed more panicked than anything.

“How long have you two been out here?! Did you—“

“Rintarō just got here, are you helping out with the teams’ practice today?” You kindly pivoted, hoping the tangent would provide her sanctuary.

“Ah, no I came to ask a question. I’ll be seeing you, thanks again!”

That left you and Suna walking past the remaining group into the gym like nothing had happened with an unspoken agreement to resolve this later. Whilst the third years would’ve left it alone, this did not quell the curiosity of their juniors.

“Hold up what was that out there?!”

“Yer were basically - I dunno! What were ya doing?!”

The Miya twins had cornered Suna, leaving you to admit guilt to Kita and Aran about overhearing the earlier discussion.

Rintarō released a bored sigh, rolling his eyes at the pair before answering as blunt as ever.

“You guys have worse timing than (Y/n), I was interrogating them.”

The pair shared a puzzled look, as did the other first and second years on the VBC whilst you only facepalmed. Of all times to wind them up…

“Eh? What for?”

“I wanted to know, if (Y/n)s’ eyes were as focused as mine.” It was cleverly worded, no one seemed to understand the ulterior motive but when you thought about it, you didn’t withhold your answer.

“They are.”

“Well duh! (L/n) ain’t completely blind are they?!” Atsumu commented after a moment of utter confused silence, Osamu shaking his head disapprovingly when flicking between Suna and yourself.

“You two… Yer really are something together ya know that?”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

A/N: Wasn’t entirely sure how to end this one so I left it open…

[steddieas-shegoes]

underneath the tree

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'tree'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 589 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, slice of life, christmas presents

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Rory doesn’t believe in Santa anymore, so presents have been piling up under the tree for days. Most of them are for her, from Steve and Eddie, but there’s one that’s for Steve from Eddie.

Steve stares at it from the couch. He’s supposed to be making packets for back to school in a week, but the shiny wrapping paper is distracting. It’s not too big, and looks like a box that might hold clothing, but Eddie wouldn’t buy him any clothes after the last time he tried.

Steve kept the sweater, but it’s still the ugliest thing he owns.

It’s heavy, too. Steve already picked it up once and tried to move it around gently to see if he could recognize the noise it made.

He still has no clue.

It’s especially irritating because Steve struggled so much this year to find something Eddie would want. He’s usually pretty easy to buy for, loves trinkets and sentimental things, but not this year.

When asked what he wanted, Eddie told everyone nothing and stood by it.

Even when the new Bauer goalie stick came out, he insisted he didn’t want it.

Steve shakes his head, tries to focus back on the task at hand. He doesn’t know why he’s so hung up on this gift, but he vows to do his best to ignore it until he’s done.

It lasts a whole four minutes before he’s setting the papers down and walking over to the tree. It can’t hurt to pick it up, test the weight again.

He’s still at a loss when Rory walks in, yawning and wiping her eyes. She had an early morning practice followed by a clinic and two tests online, so Steve told her to go take a nap before her evening ice time.

He sets the gift down, but she saw him before he could pretend he wasn’t being nosy.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to touch the presents before Christmas?” Rory asks.

“You aren’t. I can.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Rory argues.

She’s not wrong, but Steve wants to drop it and move on so he doesn’t have to explain himself.

“How was your nap?” He asks instead of answering her.

“It was fine. Dad won’t be happy about you trying to figure it out.”

Steve sighs. He knows. And he knows if he ruins it for himself he’ll be upset, too.

“I just don’t know what it could be. We said we’d just buy one small gift, but it feels heavy, and he hasn’t even given any hints.”

“That is unlike him. Maybe you should just check his internet history,” Rory suggests.

“That’s cheating,” Eddie says from the front door. He’s got a huge smile on his face, one that Steve knows means he overheard most of their conversation.

“Hey dad,” Rory greets him with a wave before she walks to the kitchen. She probably should get some snacks in her system if she wants to have energy for later.

“Hey little one,” he says back, voice filled with the same fondness he’s had since day one. “Caught him trying to sneak a peek?”

“I wasn’t gonna open it!” Steve exclaims. “I’m just curious.”

“You could open it early if it’s killing you that much,” Eddie offers.

“I can wait. It’s gonna kill me, but I can.”

****

The next day, there’s three more presents stacked in front of Steve’s gift, hiding it completely from view.

Steve looks at the tree with a smirk.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Hopefully.

[animeomegas]

What kind of drunk are they? : (Naruto Edition)

Happy drunk - These drunks are thrilled to be there, no matter where they are or who they're with. Everything is the funniest thing they've ever heard and they collapse into giggles and playful arm slapping with zero provocation. Their red cheeks are smiling widely the whole night and there's nothing that can dampen their spirits!

Chouji, Sai, Chouza, Hashirama

Emotional drunk - These drunks are sentimental to a fault. You should never let them look through old photos or tell them you love them because it will cause immediate and uncontrollable sobbing. They can be a bit of a buzzkill, but they're just so damn sincere that no one gets mad about it. They love you, they love their friends, they love their drink, they love the random person that bumped into them... Sweet, you should give them a hug.

Naruto, Iruka, Gai

Depressed drunk - Sitting despondent in the corner, these drunks are moody and sad. Every stress feels worse, they don't even remember why they came out in the first place, and they're having a miserable time. They might be huffy, they might cry tears that resemble the emotional drunks, but that are much more heart-breaking in nature, they might just stare at the wall, melancholic. Everything feels... awful. They want to go home. Take them home please.

Tenzou, Shisui, Sakumo

Angry drunk - Perhaps the worst kind of drunk. A buzzkill strong enough to ruin even the best nights, these people are better off abstaining from alcohol all together, lest their friends stop inviting them. Huffing and puffing and shouting, maybe even starting fights with friends or strangers... Sober them up and drag them out before they get banned.

Kankuro, Madara, Tobirama

Sleepy drunk - They are sooooooo sleepy. One drink and they find the nearest surface to conk out on. Shoulders, tables, walls, nothing will stop these drunks from succumbing to the sedative power of one 14% drink. There is no bass loud enough, no friends excited enough, and no temperature hot or cold enough to stop their nap time. They are just soooo sleepy 🥺 Please can they go home, now?

Shikamaru, Kakashi, Gaara

Wild, reckless drunk - this drunk loses all inhibitions and normally at least a few of their clothes. The adrenaline is running, they're on a high that feels like it will never end. Dancing on tables, singing at the top of their lungs, dancing their heart out, hell, even starting friendly fights for fun sometimes. These wild child drunks cannot be contained, but you should probably still try. They would probably appreciate if you stopped anyone from taking pictures 😅

Lee, Deidara, Kotetsu

Philosophical drunk - He talks, and talks, and talks, even if no one can hear them. It's just- It's just crazy, y'know? Time is slipping by, things have changed, the world doesn't make sense, and they have feelings about that. The philosophy is probably not the best reasoned you've ever heard, but it can be pretty funny, so if you have the patience, egging these drunks on is a great way to spend the evening.

Shibi, Fugaku, Shikaku

The secret drunk - Are they drunk? Are they sober? No one can really tell. Baring a few small tells, perhaps suspiciously pink cheeks, or hampered reflexes, these drunks behave exactly as they do when they're sober. They are probably the easiest to get home in one piece, and while some may consider this the boring category, that quirk alone makes them the least infuriating by a mile.

Shino, Kisame, Asuma

Sloppy, sick drunk - Oh... oh no, oh dear... I hope you like holding someone's hair back because... well... you get the idea. This person cannot stomach alcohol at all, and their hangover starts immediately. You'll have to struggle to get them home as their limbs flop about and they can barely walk. If you're driving them home, you may have to pay for professional cleaning 😣

Hayate, Inoichi, Izumo

Affectionate, clingy drunk - Hug them, hug them, hug them, these drunks just want hugs and kisses and holding hands. They can't do anything alone and prefer to spend their evening firmly attached to their person of choice. They can be cute and annoying in equal measure. It's easy to coerce them in to the back of a taxi if you promise to hold their hand. They might not let you go when it's time to sleep but at least they keep things PG.

Sasuke, Itachi, Minato

Horny drunk - These drunks do not keep things PG, quite the opposite actually. They flirt and grind and whine and 'whisper' dirty talk loud enough for everyone to hear. They want to sit on your lap, but you should not let them do that because they have nefarious, horny things on their mind! No shame, no tact, no subtlety, these drunks will get themselves, and possibly you, into trouble, so keep an eye on them! They will do anything they can to get into your bed (or alternatively a random alleyway) but you must resist, no matter how pretty they are! 😤

Kiba, Neji, Haku, Genma

(This is assuming they are very drunk and established adults, not teenagers. Let me know your thoughts! ;D)

[burning-academia-if]

RO's reaction to a low self esteem MC who says "I can't understand why you'd love me. I don't deserve it."

This feels like the sequel to this ask

Rook: There's a long, deep seated silence which wraps around the both of you. He presses his lips together, trying to find the words, trying not to fiddle with a bracelet or ring or necklace and show how the words struck wrong.

"It's strange to hear you say that. I spent so long thinking the same thing about you." His smile is pained. "I...don't want us to think about each other that way."

Beck: Yes, he could sense the sentiment in some of the ways you acted around him. The flash of guilt whenever he made dinner or whenever he let you pick what the two of you would watch for the night or even when he'd come pick you up from your classes. Each kindness he offered was not a soothing balm but a knife twisting deep into your gut.

He takes your hands, pressing a kiss to them and murmuring, "I could you a list. I could say a million reasons right now, and I can say it over and over again, until you can bring yourself to believe it."

Rhea: Ice cuts into her veins, flashes of others telling her the same. Of all the ways those relationships fell apart in the end replays in her head like an endless theater. She won't let it be the same here. She doesn't want this to fall apart with you.

Her voice is careful, trying to find the words, "I love you because I feel the most myself with you. And I want you to know, even if you don't believe, you're deserving of love. Not just mine, but of others as well."

Does it get through to you? Does it mean anything? She doesn't know, but she'll repeat herself until it does.

Zoe: "Huh?" Is the first thing that comes to Zoe, which isn't the best response given the situation of your words. It catches them off guard, and they're not sure they have the words. All they can do is reach for you, finding your hands.

They give them a squeeze, swallowing, "I mean, I'm the most average person alive and I feel the same way, sometimes. But I think, I'd feel a lot worse if you weren't here. So even if it's hard to believe, you make me happy. And I want you around."

They hope the halts and fumbling of their words doesn't undercut their sentiment. They squeeze your hand again, desperate for their feelings to get through.

Lars: "What, you don't trust my judgement?" His voice isn't as sharp as it usual is, nor is the frown he sends your way. "And anyway, there's no such thing as deserving someone. I love you because I made the choice to and I want to. Simple as."

He doesn't know what you want to hear or what you need to hear, or if you even wanted a response in the first place. Still, he doesn't like the wound in your eyes or the way you weigh yourself against the rest of the whole world.

???: "What do you deserve then, Little Moon?" Their eyes search yours, the question genuine as it is sharp. They've been in your head, heard the endless thoughts which berated you daily from morning to night. Knew every way in which you'd made yourself small and undeserving.

In a world like this, they understood the damage done. And they knew every way in which it had damaged you. It would not be simple words which would fix this, they knew. "I'm not good, and if you don't deserve me, than what is it you think you deserve?"

If they could just get you to question it, then maybe, one day, these feelings will start to fade away.

[boomgun]

Post-CF Claude/Edelgard is hilarious if we take into account that Edelgard is not exactly the best at emotional intelligence and Claude is paranoid.

They would meet at some kind of diplomatic function, start making small talk. They both are trying to re-connect, for the good of their nations of course (and personal reasons), but their expectations are not going to be met.

Claude would very likely ask "Hey, why did you spare me? Bit out of character for the ruthless conqueror. ;)"

Now, Claude is likely trying to corner Edelgard into admitting she has feelings for him, because he knows how cagey she can be. Which, she does! In fact, Edelgard loves this opportunity to show how much she thinks about him. The problem is that this is Edelgard and she would think that Claude would enjoy being gassed up for how smart and strategic he is.

So it would go like "Because you subtly but effectively communicated that you were a prince of Almyra and left a strong implication of the consequences for killing you. I have no doubt that excursion into Goneril territory by Nader was a taste of what could have happened. You put me in a situation where, even with my axe at your throat, I could not risk harming you. A brilliant manuever as always, Claude. <3"

Edelgard probably expects Claude to be chuffed at this statement and, moreover, it shows that she has been paying attention and is Smart and Observant (because these are surely the traits Claude admires in people). The problem is that being seen as a capable and dangerous threat is what almost everyone has percieved Claude as since he was a kid. Claude, in fact, would like more sentimental reasons or at least like his intelligence to be complimented in a less 'oh you're so cunning and dangerous' way and more in a 'aw, you're so thoughtful of others' way. It just reads to Claude that Edelgard views him more as a political acquaintance than as someone who likes him for himself.

So, Claude is just "Huh, thanks for the compliment. :)))" because he does not want to show vulnerability and is trying to quietly disengage.

The problem is that Edelgard knows she said something wrong because she remembers that smile from the Academy and it never meant Claude was actually happy. What did she say? Maybe she was being too subtle. Aha! Let's take Claude somewhere private and tell him, like, his dick is big or something. That'll work!

"Can I have a moment alone with you?"

Now what the fuck could Edelgard mean by that!? Does she actually like Claude? Maybe! No, that's wishful thinking. Claude reasons that Edelgard must be up to something clandestine and wants to plot with him. You know? That could be fun! Hubert enjoys scheming with her, maybe Claude could too.

"Lead the way." He says, trying to sound smooth and in control.

Oh, fuck yeah, he's interested with a capital 'I.' Edelgard must have just been seeing things, reading too much into the situation. Claude would never follow someone into a private place unless he trusted them, or at least had a good escape route. Probably both. He's so clever, let's try complimenting that again!

"I trust you have a backup plan in case something goes awry while we're all alone? ;)"

OH, GOD. CLAUDE, WHAT DID YOU DO??? EDELGARD WANTS TO KILL YOU, SHE NEVER ACTS THIS CUTE AND VULNERABLE. READ BETWEEN THE LINES, SHE IS TRYING TO TRAP YOU. FUCK! FUCK!!! CLAUDE HAS TO FIND A WAY OUT OF THIS, THIS IS SUCH AN OBVIOUS PLOY. DO NOT LET HER KNOW YOU ARE ON TO HER EITHER. PLAY IT COOL, CLAUDE, PLAY IT COOL.

"Ah, wait, I promised a dance with a couple courtiers and I need to go talk to Nader. I gotta put my career first, you know how it is." Claude breathes a little too forcefully, trying to keep himself calm.

How did Edelgard fumble again!? She smiled and winked and complimented his intelligence! Scientifically, Claude should be over the moon. Wait, that's it! Claude is clearly playing hard to get. That makes sense, given the political tensions between Almyra and Fódlan. If Claude is found pursuing a woman from Fódlan, it would invite unflattering comparisons with his father. So, Edelgard just needs to make it clear that SHE is the one coming for him! It's so obvious.

Edelgard pulls Claude close "Please, Claude, I yearn to feel your arrows fall upon me." Edelgard gives a knowing look, because the innuendo is just that brazen and obvious for all to hear.

SHE'S FUCKING BLOODTHIRSTY. Deirdriu! Edelgard is talking about the siege of Deirdriu. Holy shit, it all makes sense! Edelgard talking about Claude outwitting her, wanting him alone; she is here to finish the job! She's making such an obvious vieled threat, and she's giving that Bold Edelgard Look too! Oh, she might try something right here in front everyone! Claude, GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE!

Claude does not say anything, not clearly. He mutters something about a cat about to fall off the windowsill and how someone should save it (there is no cat, the window is closed) and he just leaps out of it with a crash that startles everyone at the meeting. Claude made a calculated risk. People can survive falls off the second story of a building, especially if one strategically bounces off the railing of the lower balcony. It really hurt, though. Claude spends the rest of the week nursing a dislocated shoulder in a safehouse that no one else knows about.

Edelgard is aghast. Then depressed. There is only one logical conclusion, Claude was so viscerally repulsed by her advances that he attempted suicide! Edelgard spends the whole night locked in her room, stuffing her face with a comfort food while crying. How could she have fumbled this so badly?

It is a wretched and terrible comedy of errors.

[albinokittens300]

THE TRAILER MAN. THAT WAS WILD.

Okay beginning with some things we notably DID NOT SEE:

-Viktor or Mel. Like not a single frame of them. I saw someone found that some version of Jayce was in there, shown by his cuff with the gem on it. But no Mel or Viktor. Interesting. I don't think Viktor and Mel fans should worry...just be hype because they are keeping whatever spoiler-y thing they are involved with a secret. At least with Viktor. There is a slim chance still of Mel being dead but. Not huge. I am sure anything they could share of her would be spoiler riddled as well, so they aren't.

NOW ON TO WHAT WE DID SEE-

-JINX GOT A NEW LOOK. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. HER FACEPAINT. THE CUT SHORT HAIR. The veil (?) thingy. Man she looks AWESOME. Was genuinely wondering if she'd get a new look and am SO Happy about it.

-MY BOY EKKO! SO much Ekko in this. More Ekko than I expected, but I am so thoroughly here for it. Him on his hoverborad, and getting caught by Vi was just *cheifs kiss*. He also seems to have some kind of Piltover-like outfit change too? I mean we know he goes there at some point this season by the shared clip...so makes sense. I am LOVEING the manbun look on him too.

-Oh yes not to mention he's been PAINTED UP Jinx style. Like...she really isn't subtle is she XD? The scene where is is talking about letting things go to move forward you can also see in the corner Jinx's blue hair. And that is on top of that sentiment really making sense for him to say to Jinx.

-It does make me curious why they wove that in with a shot of something happening to Heimerdinger though...is something gonna happen to the small fluffly old man? Maybe. The trailer is out to maybe make us think so.

-Vi looks to be having he worst time for most of this trailer. Which isn't a shock, from what we've heard. But her in from of the mirror hurt me so bad. Can I just hug her? I feel like hugging her. There is a bit of hope seeing her working with Ekko, that lifted my heart a little.

-VI V. WARRICK (probably VANDER) AHHH I AM NOT READY HELP.

-Cait, my girl, I hope you get through this revenge phase quickly please. I love you, I get your feelings. Talking about ripping laughs out of peoples throats is not the best approach to dealing with these things.

-That said cooperation between Caitlyn and Ambessa is...interesting. Very interesting. Makes sense with the 'you will have vengeance' line. But am very curious the way that will play out and how long Caitlyn is gonna take to catch on that working with Noxus might not be the best thing ever. Cause yea I do think that partnership isn't gonna last long.

In general, I am so hyped up. I want Novemeber to be here like yesterday.

[sunberrybarnes]

☥  ˖ִ ࣪ 🦇 airplane.　⠀p. parker & w. wilson . . .

( ♱ ) … what not to do: spider-manning while sick. what peter does: exactly that.

777 。。masterlist

When Peter passes his third McDonalds while chasing a rogue pickpocket, he thinks the universe really has it out for him. It’s almost three am and he hasn’t eaten since, what, seven pm? Six-thirty? Whatever, it’s been a long time. And Peter is hungry. Fast food isn’t the best fuel, but it would be something. Even a small fry would be enough to curb his hunger until he could find something a bit healthier.

It doesn’t take long to web up the man who stole someone’s wallet and return it to them, but by the time he’s done he’s so hungry he thinks he might throw up if he swings. Problem: he has no money on hand. People love to give free things to Spider-man, especially food, but it’s always made him feel bad. For a second though, he genuinely contemplates the idea as he bounces between his feet.

“Hey, Spidey! Need a hand?”

Peter could pass out from happiness.

“Hey, ‘Pool.” Peter grins as he turns to face him. “Got any food?”

“Nah, but I got money and a McDonalds down the street,” Wade says as he skips towards Peter. His suit is sparkling clean; he must have just come out. Why, exactly, Wade roams the streets randomly and doesn’t kill anyone or seem to be on any job is beyond Peter. But it often brings him to Peter, so really, he doesn’t care enough to find out.

They eat in the restaurant, something they don’t often do, but Peter is too hungry to care even about the possibility of his mask falling off or some rowdy kid yanking on it. The burger he’s scarfing down is far more important. Wade noisily eats an ice cream laden with candy.

In the fifteen minutes it takes them to be done eating, they chat easily. Wade asks about his Stark Internship, and lets Peter ramble on about “crazy science stuff that makes no sense, but makes my Spider happy.” In return, Peter asks about Wade’s favorite shows: Golden Girls, My Little Pony, the occasional Hello Kitty episode. He gets numerous lore dumps, and decides he likes Fluttershy best.

Peter manages to get down a double cheeseburger, thirteen nuggets, a medium fry, and a water. He leans back against the booth with a pleased sigh, grinning as Wade tries to shove more fries into his already-full mouth.

“Thanks for the food, Wade,” Peter says. “Better get back onto the streets though. Idiots won’t web themselves up, unfortunately.”

Wade swallows, the noise comically loud, and says, “Of course, Spidey! Mind if I tag along?”

“That’s a terrible idea.” Peter stands up and stretches his arms above his head, back popping. “But as long as you bring more fries, I guess you can come.”

“Oh, you guess,” Wade mutters as he snatches up their last, untouched large fry. “At least you’re allowing it. Can’t get everything you want.”

“Find someone your own age to hang out with,” Peter snarks as they leave, the bell on the door dinging above them.

“I’ll have you know that I have some very nice friends! But I can’t let my favorite Spider get hurt, IronDick would kill me.”

“He wouldn’t kill you,” Peter responds. “I wouldn’t let him. Maybe just some light maiming.”

—

Deadpool splits off within an hour, looking incredibly morose as he goes. He makes Peter swear to eat a vegetable, and be in bed by ten tomorrow, taking the night off. The sentiment is nice, and Peter tells him goodbye genuinely, but he doesn’t need Wade fussing over him as well. He’s already got half a dozen calls from Tony telling him to wrap up patrol and head home.

It’s six am, sun breaking the horizon, when Peter calls it quits. Not exactly what Tony or even Wade might have had in mind, but New York never sleeps and its crimes had run rampant over the dark hours. Peter is glad to be done, at least, as he limps through the sliding doors into Stark Industries.

After Wade left, Peter had swung around the city until he’d found some crooks, got shot at, violently slammed into a building twice, and experienced general pain and unrest. Peter threw up once already in a shady alley next to a rusted dumpster, and now every bit of his body feels so weak that he isn’t sure he can make it to Mr. Stark’s lab.

His theory is proven correct as he approaches the elevator, says hello to Bruce as the doors slide open, and promptly collapses.

Not exactly his finest moment.

—

When Peter comes to, it’s in a bed somewhere in Mr. Stark’s penthouse. Peter would try to get up and maybe find someone, but the bed is soft and blankets fluffy, the TV playing something that looks half-interesting.

No more than five minutes have passed when Deadpool comes into the room, loudly declaring “Spidey, I know I told you to get some rest but I didn’t mean like this!”

Peter cracks a grin and pushes himself up to sit against the pillow. “Sorry. Just wanted to be extra thorough. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

“I convinced ole’ IronDick to let me in. Said I had some nice things for you. He was all ‘Deadpool, Peter has everything he needs here’ so I went, ‘Nuh-uh.’ So, I brought you some hoodies, soup, and this!” Rather proudly, Wade holds up a small Deadpool plush figure. It’s stupid and a little egotistical, but Peter finds himself laughing. The laughs quickly break out into thick coughs, Peter hacking up phlegm into the bedside trash.

“Thanks,” Peter says eventually, settling back onto the bed, voice scratchy. “I really appreciate it.”

“Though some people—” Wade raises his voice, angling towards the door “—don’t think this is necessary, I argue that taking proper care of your Spider is always what makes or breaks a good person.”

“You know you can call me Peter, right?” Peter asks, smiling slightly. It’s amusing, the way Wade veers around his identity, even after he’s known it for so long.

Wade gasps dramatically, racing over to cover Peter’s ears. “Don’t say that. People can hear you!”

Peter swats Wade away, his arms limp as uncooked noodles. He hasn’t realized before now just how drained and empty he feels. Nothing exactly hurts, but his entire body is weak and achy if he moves too much. His mind, on the other hand, is completely fine and raring to go. Peter already knows it’s going to make resting that much harder.

“I don’t want you lifting a finger, Spidey,” Wade says. “Mainly because you look like you can’t hold a spoon, but also because I love spoiling my friends!”

“Your murder-money help you buy a lot of shiny things?” Peter jokes.

“Rude! I don’t only buy shiny things, I buy other stuff too. Like groceries! And this!” Wade tosses the plush onto the bed, where it lands in Peter’s lap. It’s then that he can see how the stitches are a little uneven, the eyes sewn crookedly. Handmade, Peter thinks. The idea that Wade might have made the little plush himself just to cheer Peter up warms him from the inside out.

Wade heats up the soup, putting it into a glass bowl printed with Spider-man adjacent designs—where did he even get that?—and insists on spoon-feeding it all to Peter.

“Not. A. Finger,” Wade repeats, waving the spoon around. Droplets of soup fly through the air. “Oops. Anyways. You’ve wayyyy overworked your muscles, though getting beat up probably didn’t help. And no spoon means no glass bowls.”

Eventually, Peter relents. The soup, classic chicken and noodle, is just on this side of salty. The carrots are tiny cubes instead of slices, adding just enough flavor but not too much for Peter to dislike it.

Overall, it’s…nice. Wade is gentle, if not teasing, going “open for the airplaaaaane” every few bites as though Peter is a toddler. The soup is warm and comforting, and by the time Peter takes the last mouthful, Wade scraping excess drops from his chin, he feels sleepy and full.

“Get some rest, Petey,” Wade says as he places the dishes on the bedside table. “Need our Spider back to full strength.”

Peter falls asleep warm and bundled up, feeling safe and secure in a way that he hasn’t in a long while. It’s a nice change. One he thinks he could get used to.

[pacifymebby]

Hope u r doing okay ❣️

Which of the peaky men would make the best fathers do you think?

ahhh you caught me at a broody moment bestie so

I think of all the Peaky men Bonnie and John would make the best fathers, they both strike me as family orientated, "fun" dads. They're definitely both very into keeping you pregnant haha, but I will get into that later, here are some quick little HCs about the men as dads <3

Tommy

🌿 "Over Protective Dad"

🌿 He's the serious type of dad, the one with lots of rules, the one who definitely means it when he says "Behave, or else." He's very strict and the children definitely know not to cross him, sometimes you worry that he's too stern... and so does Tommy.

🌿 Because he adores his children, he's so proud of them and he has so much love for them, they're his proof that good things can really exist in this very bitter and twisted world... he just isn't always good at showing that love because the more you love something the more it hurts to lose that thing...

🌿 So he's terrified, every single second of every single day, that he's going to lose his little ones, that one way or another they'll be ripped away from him.

🌿 Thats why he has all these rules, and why he's so determined to see them kept to. Because he doesn't want something bad to happen to his children as a result of his "negligence"

🌿 He's also petrified that he'll be the reason their lives are ruined, he's scared he'll drive them away... a fear which is naturally made worse by his cold exterior and his struggle to be close with his family. He's always putting a distance between himself and the ones he loves, and it traps him in a mean cycle.

🌿 The kind of parent thats always trying to hide the worlds badness from his children, he wants them to stay innocent and care free for as long as possible so he wraps them in cotton wool and won't ever want them to do anything which could risk an unhappy ending.

🌿 That being said he rarely "lets" them win at games.

🌿 He gets very paranoid about their friends, the kind of parent that needs to know his children's friends parents before he lets the kids out of his sight. He worries when they're out after school, even more so if he has daughters.

🌿 Will hate his daughters boyfriends, will try his best to intimidate them.

🌿 His children will grow up resenting him for being controlling but in the end they will understand why he raised them the way he did because,

🌿 Ultimately Tommy is a devoted father figure, he's nurturing to the best of his ability. Nothing will hit harder than a "dad hug" when the kids are upset. He's sentimental as fuck so will make sure he is at every big event in the kids lives, he'll be the one taking photos.

🌿 Will never fail to tell his children he is proud of them. Sometimes it's a little scary when he tells them he loves them because he feels the emotion quite intensely.

🌿 Has killed for his children at least once, is determined they'll never find out.

Arthur

🍂 "Overwhelmed Dad"

🍂 Is absolutely desperate to be a good, hands on father but oh my god is it difficult! Theres so much to remember, so many things which need to be done all at once... He's the father who always has food stains on his shirt, the one who is always at least fifteen minutes late, running down the street with the kids to try and get them into school on time... He forgets stuff all the time, sends the kids to school without a packed lunch or dinner money and has to go running back with it.

🍂 He is very awkward at first because he's paranoid that he will be too rough, hold the baby too tightly, that he's going to hurt them. But he is just so full of love and adoration and even when they're very small his children will sense that love and feel happy whenever daddy is near.

🍂 His children are his sun stars and universe. They're his reason to heal and carry on living despite all the pain he often feels inside. They're his hope.

🍂 Always self conscious that he's being too loud or too rough, he's always swearing then apologising for swearing in front of them. "Son your fathers a very naughty man eh, you shouldn't try to copy him yeah?"

🍂 "fook" is probably one of your babies first words despite all of his efforts. His brothers think that this is completely hilarious but Arthur feels so bad about it.

🍂 He doesn't want his children to grow up to be anything like him, he can't see any of the good that you see in him, only the bad so he's always worrying that his kids will have inherited "the bad seed"

🍂 It isn't true however, where Arthur sees himself as over emotional/ unpredictable with violent mood swings, you see him as a passionate man with real feelings. You see him as someone who needs nurture and care. You're always trying to remind him that his "flaws" make him a more empathetic person, that he'll much better be able to understand his children because of his own life experiences.

🍂 A really defensive father, if his kids get into trouble at school for anything he will be 100% on his kids side, if they were scrapping then the other kid definitely started the fight and deserved it, if they were back chatting a teacher then "what the fuck are you doin eh? You're an adult and you can't stand up to a fucking six year old? Thats mad..."

🍂 You're constantly having to apologise to the school on his behalf but on the plus side your kids aren't ever getting bullied.

🍂 If you have daughters they will definitely be doing their best to keep boyfriends a secret... This is perhaps not really necessary though because ultimately Arthur is a desperately loving father who would do anything to make his kids happy... so your daughters don't need to worry about a thing, as long as their boyfriend intends to marry them and care for them until the end of his days.

John

🌼 "Still a Kid Dad"

🌼 He's the "fun" parent, the soft one that the kids know to ask for extra play time or sweets. They know they can get away with bloody murder when it comes to their dad. If they're boys he's going to be impressed when they manage to weasel their way out of trouble and if they're girls all they have to do is pull those adorable puppy eyes and they will definitely get what they want.

🌼 Absolutely spoils the kids rotten! Basically he lives to see his children smiling and to hear them laughing so he will do whatever he thinks is going to earn him hugs and smiles.

🌼 A real criminal when it comes to feeding the kids things like rice pudding, chocolate pudding "one for you, one for daddy, little scoop for you, big spoon for daddy..."

🌼 Always helping them get up to know good. Teaches them naughty rhymes and then daring them to sing them in front of you so that you're permanently horrified.

🌼 They make him behave like a big kid so he's always playing stupid imaginary games, playing cowboys with them, playing tig, always starting food fights with them any excuse to play fight and tickle them... Any excuse to pick the littlens up and squeeze them in a big hug.

🌼 So many Dad jokes just waiting to be dropped it's like a disease, he just can't stop making the worst jokes you've ever heard and yet his kids think he's hilarious.

🌼 Can, very rarely, but sometimes be serious, but it's only when something very serious has happened such as if he thinks the family is under threat or the children are in danger. It's so rare to see daddy serious that the kids always do as he says in these situations, it's like they can just sense that play time is over.

🌼 Absolutely adoring, falls asleep with the baby on his chest all the time, never wants to put the littlens down. Smothers them in kisses.

🌼 Whenever its your birthday he will gather all the littlens up to try and bake mummy's birthday cake, it will be messy, it will be bordering on a catastrophe, the kids and him will be covered in flour, sugar, cake mix, chocolate, the lot. But it will be the best thing you've ever eaten.

🌼 Perhaps the reason John is the way he is is that he didn't get much of a childhood himself, his own father let him down astronomically when he was a lad and so he's determined that his children are going to have as much fun as possible. He hates seeing them sad, doesn't ever want them to feel let down. So even though you do sometimes get very fed up with always being the "strict" parent you can understand why John is as laidback with he kids as he is. It's because he's trying so hard to give them everything he never had.

🌼 Look he's lowkey addicted to being a dad, wants to have so many children with you, can't keep his hands off you... He will always always be telling you what a good mother you are, how beautiful you look when you're pregnant, how proud he is of you, always talking to you about how together you've made a gorgeous family. Whenever you're holding one of the little ones, or whenever you're playing with the children he'll tell you how much motherhood suits you.

Alfie

🐻 "Grumpy Daddy"

🐻 Wasn't ever really expecting to be a father, wasn't ever really expecting to be a husband either to be honest but well, here he is and he can't say he isn't happy with his lot in life. When he finds out you're pregnant he is stunned, but he's determined to be a good father...

🐻 Always grumbling affectionately about parenthood, if his kids ask for help he'll put on a big song and dance of huffing and puffing and "oh I suppose I have to don't I I suppose I can't say no to my little angel..."

🐻 There is absolutely nothing this man will not whinge about, if theres a birthday party he has to take them to, if its the school run, other children's parents, helping with snack time, helping with homework, reading the bedtime story, carrying the kids when their legs get too tired... He will make a big song and dance all "woe is me the exhausted, overworked father, he never gets a minute to himself, never any peace and quiet, always bending over backwards for his family and what thanks does he get eh? What thanks exactly do I get in return for all this?"

🐻 Usually by the end of these speeches his little ones are giggling and you're affectionately rolling your eyes... Usually a kiss on the cheek is all the thanks he really needs to shut him up. And he's never being serious anyway, he actually really loves being a dad, its much nicer being at home with the family, playing the hero rather than the villain as he does at the bakery and in his dealings with Tommy Shelby.

🐻 Makes up the bedtime stories, they always go on and on and on, with the strangest characters.... Often he will ramble on and lose himself all "and then the princess yeah, the beautiful, mesmerising, heavenly princess in the tower... who looks a lot like you now I come to think of it my little cherub... the princess right, she looks down at the prince and she says, oi, mate... you touch my hair again yeah and I'll chop your head off and kick it like a football all the way to Timbuktu..." "Daddy!" your little one will gasp, giggling and fighting him, "a princess wouldn't say that!" "Well you see this princess would right my little angel cause this Princess yeah, she's a feminist ain't she..."

🐻 Honestly he'd be such a soft father to a little girl, he'd spoil her rotten and she'd be the princess of Camden town. Nothing would ever be good enough for his little cherub.

🐻 Would make a point of turning up on the first day of school so that everyone would know who his kids father is, so that they'd know not to mess with them - teachers included.

🐻 Much like Tommy however he is very overprotective, he has lots of rules as a result of him always worrying about his children. He knows the absolute pits the world can sink to, he knows how dangerous it is out there and therefore he will constantly be werriting about the safety of his children, about who they're friends with, where they hang out. He will run background checks on all their friends. He will send Ollie out spying on them.

🐻 He's the kind of dad who won't forget about Mum, he'll see how tired you are and want to dote on you too. He'll definitely be the first to try and hush the kids so that mummy can have a nap, or he'll take them out to the market to pick out some presents for mummy. He's always reminding them how much their mummy loves them and everything that she does for them, always reminding them to make sure they tell their mother that they love her very much.

🐻 Big on manners. Won't ever swear in front of the children and he won't let them curse either. He also is always reminding them of their manners, will not raise rude children who don't say please and thank you or hold doors open for people.

🐻 Similar to Arthur, his children can never do any wrong, the only person who is going to tell his kids off his him, if a teacher wants to talk about his children's bad behaviour he's going to talk to the teacher about why they're failing as a role model.

Bonnie

🍀 "Nurturing Dad"

🍀 Family is the most important thing in this lads life. He is absolutely devoted to you and the children, he would do anything for you. He never misses anything, from birthdays to bath time, story time... anything, he doesn't want to miss a second of his children's lives.

🍀 He's very laidback, often very cheeky, always very quick to make you and the little ones laugh. Much like John he's the "fun" parent, he's always playing games with the children, loves to make them laugh with silly little slight of hand tricks (definitely overdoes the "coin from behind the ear" trick)

🍀 Will teach his kids boxing, will teach the girls to fight too if its what they want letting them punch his hands and try to take him out (if all the kids gang up on him at once they can wrestle him to the floor so that you have to save him... not that you always feel like it - "hmmm I don't know Bon, I think you might have been asking for it?"

🍀 His favourite thing to do is to gather all the little ones up into bed with you and him, all of you tucked under the covers for a bedtime story. He does the voices but he gets shy in front of you so he can't help but blush when he's doing the silly parts. Encourages the kids to join in and do the voices themselves.

🍀 Loves to teach the littlens things, practical skills like woodworking/ hunting/ how to make a fire or a shelter. Any excuse to take them out into the forest to build a den or go camping.

🍀 He's really traditional and would definitely want to raise the children with traditional traveller values, wants to raise them how he was raised however

🍀 He's ambitious and he doesn't want his children to grow up in the bordering on poverty that he grew up in so he will work so hard to give them anything they could ever desire. He doesn't exactly spoil them because he definitely teaches them the value of their work, but he'd never let his children go without. He never lets you go without either, even if he doesn't want to spoil the children he does want to spoil you, "you deserve it sweetheart, for being such a perfect mammy."

🍀 Wants to have a really big family and loves getting you pregnant. He loves taking care of you and being nurturing when you are pregnant and he loves doting on you and the children... One day when they're all grown up his empty nest syndrome will be worse than yours.

🍀 A really nurturing father, will teach his boys that it's alright to cry and express their emotions, will want to kill anyone who makes his little girls cry. Will teach his sons to look after and love their sisters. Will raise his kids to know that family comes first always. If one of his kids gets into trouble at school for fighting, but it turns out he was fighting to defend his sister, Bonnie will be really proud of them and much to the teachers despair, will tell them "you did the right thing, next time hit him twice, one from me eh?"

🍀 Will do his best to be friendly when his daughters bring boys home but he will need so much support from you, so many gentle reminders to "be nice" because thats his little girl and what if this lad isn't good enough, what if they hurt her or let her down or... You'll probably have to remind him that no matter what no ones going to replace her dad, he'll always be important to her.

Isaiah

🐀 "Cool Dad"

🐀 Don't get me wrong, I'm sure that he's going to mature into a decent father but, it's going to take some time and a lot of growing up.

🐀 I get slightly unreliable vibes from him. He won't take parenthood seriously at first, he'll have no idea how hard it is or how out of his depth he is... He'll definitely think that everyone else is exaggerating when they warn him how much of his life he's going to have to put into being a father... Fatherhood is going to hit him like a freight train.

🐀 He assumes he's going to be great at it because he assumes he's great at everything, but then he's overwhelmed by the long sleepless nights and how difficult it is to read a babies mind... So because he isn't immediately great at it it knocks his confidence a bit, he gets frustrated with himself and becomes convinced that he's "just not meant to be a father"

🐀 So this leads to arguments, naturally... because "you really should have thought about that before you knocked me up Isaiah!" You would start to doubt whether you could rely on him, whether he resents you and the children as a burden, whether he even wants to stay with you or whether he's going to leave...

🐀 When you argue about that fact and you come out with "well if you're so fucking unhappy why don't you just leave... if you're so convinced you're not meant to be a father we'll just have to get by without you won't we..." He'd be stunned by this outburst and genuinely have no idea where it's come from. Because he's stupid.

🐀 He'd be really taken back but forced to consider your words he'd start to realise that this is hard for both of you, that you're both doing something you've never done before, that the responsibility is new and tiring for you both... just because he thinks you're better at it than he is doesn't mean you're not also just making it up as you go along...

🐀 And your suggestion that he might want to leave you makes him realise just how much he could lose, makes him realise that he doesn't want to lose you or the little ones, that even if its hard he wants so badly to be a good man and father.

🐀 So then he'd start trying a lot harder, he'd stop expecting to get everything right the first time, he'd start trying to learn from you. Like I said, he's going to be a good father, but it's going to take time.

🐀 In awe of how good at mothering you are, doesn't understand how you can be soft and gentle and patient when the baby won't stop crying... He longs to develop that kind of patience but honestly, you have the patience of a saint and he knows he's never going to be as easy tempered as you.

🐀 He's a strange mixture of over protective and completely irresponsible, he takes the children with him to the pub, he lets them sip the foam from his beer to teach them that they won't like it. He will let them run riot at family gatherings.

🐀 Has definitely forgotten then baby and left them sleeping in their carrier under the table at the pub at least once.

🐀 However, the children are never allowed out of his sight, they can go to these places but only with him where he's there to look after them. His theory is that if he's so strict that his children never get to have any fun, they'll grow up wanting to break rules and do stupid dangerous things just for the sake of rebelling, so he's cool about it, he lets them drink when they're older so that they'll see theres nothing special about it, he'll let them hang around with the Blinders so that the mystery and glamour is taken out of it... whether this tactic works you'll have to wait and see, you're not entirely confident however...

🐀 He will be the kind of parent that speaks to his children like they're adults, they're going to learn swearing and sarcasm and back chat really young and its going to be a nightmare.

🐀 Will be suspicious of all boys who so much as look at his daughters because he was a teenage boy once and he knows what they're like. Whenever you remind him, "we were just as bad at that age..." he'll say "exactly and look where it got us, I'm not having some halfwit knock up my daughter!"

🐀 sometimes you think he says that just so you'll tell him that actually he makes a really good father.

Michael

☘️ "Perfectionist Dad"

☘️ Being a father is probably more important to Michael than you realise... Having been taken from his real family when he was very young, he feels there's a part of childhood which he was robbed of and he's determined to make sure his own children have the best childhood.

☘️ Because of this he has quite a few rules that he sets, he just wants his children to be safe and to not waste their potential... however he will occasionally be soft on these rules and let things slide if he thinks it's going to make the children and you happy.

☘️ He puts so much pressure on himself to be the perfect father. He will never express his doubts to you but he has such high expectations of himself and you can tell. Sometimes you have to give him a kiss on the cheek and remind him that as long as he's doing his best thats all that matters, that his children will love him even if he makes mistakes. That you think he's a really good father and wouldn't ever wish for anyone else to be the dad to your kids.

☘️Tries his best to be supportive, sometimes struggles to be patient because he's a logical thinker and you can't always solve baby's crying the way you can a maths problem. Imagine him trying to reason with a toddler who won't eat their rice pudding... "Look you might not appreciate this right now little one but this snack is highly nutritious, its an excellent source of protein and its got lots of calcium which is especially important for making you grow big and strong just like daddy... so even if you don't like it eh, better to eat it up..." "Michael he's two..." "I'm just explaining...." "T W O"

☘️ You wouldn't expect it of him, and it's definitely something he struggles with a little however he's always determined to be an affectionate and loving father. He definitely comes off as being too serious when he kisses his children on the forehead and tells them he loves them, but they always know they can come to him when they need a hug.

☘️ He's a really attentive father when it comes to things like waking up in the night if the kids have had a nightmare or something, he will let you get your much needed rest and he'll be the one to deal with all issues nocturnal. Can change a nappy in his sleep, can pretty much sleep walk between your bed and the kids bedroom to answer their crying in the night.

☘️Will spoil his daughters rotten and accidentally raise princessy types. Doesn't really see the problem however because he thinks they're perfect in every way and deserve the absolute best.

☘️ Just like Tommy he is determined they will keep their childhood and their innocence for as long as possible. He will do his best to keep his children away from the family business, he doesn't want them to know that their father is a criminal and he certainly doesn't want them to ever know of all the evil things him and his cousins have done in the past. As a result he tells his children a lot of lies, feels incredibly guilty for being dishonest, and then ends up telling even more lies anyway.

☘️ He absolutely doesn't want his girls anywhere near boys, especially not peaky boys. He doesn't even really like them getting to see their cousins at family gatherings, is always reminding them that they're not like their cousins, they're honest well behaved children, their cousins are wild and can't be trusted.

☘️ Will try to teach his children to be brave, will want them to be able to stand up for themselves. He's a man with childhood trauma and he wishes he'd had the "wits" to defend himself as a child so he wants his own children to be able to fight back. However, a key component of this is that he wants his children to be able to tell him anything and know that their dad will always be on their side, he doesn't want them to keep any secrets from him at all. Wants them to know he will never be angry at them and that it's always better to tell daddy everything.

☘️ If anyone ever threatens or hurts his children he will probably genuinely plot to kill them, have them killed.

Taglist: @inalovesrabbits-blog@zablife @jomarch-wannabe @itsghostgirlyo @marwwfairy @toddlerbodybag @everysage @tommyshelbywhore @kas3ylovesyou @starrykit @call-sign-shark @liliac-dreamer @mollybegger-blog @impossibleheartflower @cocoaflowers

[cwen-northwice]

At today's tournament, not one but three people were granted their white scarves. Two of them are Gentlemen with which I have had some acquaintance and they could not be more deserving. I am so happy for and proud of both of them. I had been planning to report back on how I had performed in very first tourney, but instead I'd rather talk about these two and how highly I think of them.

In the hour or so between the last pass of the day and the beginning of court, a handful of us from our local group were gathered about the fire pit discussing the Significance of Awards. The general sentiment was that we were not seeking status or elevation, but instead seeking to be skilled enough to be worthy of recognition.

One gentleman said to me "But Cwenthryth, didn't you want to be a cadet?" And I clarified to him that I wanted a white scarf. The number of people I would be willing to be a cadet to is very small. I listed off the two men I would let make me their student. One sat next to me and is notorious for his lack of interest in any kind of awards or recognition. The other was currently a cadet and cadets can't have cadets.

My astute readers have certainly already surmised that he is no longer a cadet. He is now a fully fledged white scarf. I would happily be his cadet. I find he is a role model for community service. He is kind, and polite, and friendly, and always pitching in to help when needed. I find I struggle with knowing when I should help and as a result, I often sit out when other people jump in. Whenever I look up though, this Gentleman is throwing himself into whatever situation others find themselves in. I find he is the sort of person I would like to be. I had actually only recently discovered he wasn't a knight. The only reason I could think of for why I thought he was a knight was, as we say, his peer-like qualities. Truly the man is a pillar of the community.

The other Gentleman embodies I think the other element of what I think of when I think of white scarves. He is very quiet and soft spoken, but congenial with a ready willingness to teach our art whenever he can. He is also one of the most skilled fighters I've ever seen. He moves like a whip and strikes like thunder. He can plow through your defense with barely a twitch. He's the kind of fencer who will warp your sense of average if you get to used to fighting him.

I do not want to be his cadet though. He is certainly a top lad, no doubt, but I find I do not want to be like him. I want to beat him. The things I want to learn from him are not things to study under his tutelage but at the end of his blade. I want to be able to stand across him on a field and have him see me an equal. I don't want him as a mentor, but as a rival. Tragically, I do not believe I am skilled enough yet to be worth him seeing me as the same.

Both of these men symbolise what it is about the white scarf that I value. They represent ways that I want to be like, as a person and as a fighter both. The white scarf is aspirational. To travel back to that campfire, cogitating on the value of awards, if you gave me my scarf tomorrow it would mean nothing. It's a scrap of fabric on my sleeve. What I want is not to be permitted to wear some fancy ribbon. What I want is for people to think of me the same way I think of these men. As a mentor and a rival. I want to be good enough on the field and off that others dream of being like me. I don't want an award. I want to be good enough to get the award.

[daisymerollingg]

#15— without touch, we die.

—Angstober day 15: False hope

Pairing; Flashy flash x reader

Warning(s); established relationship(?), anxious attachment style flashy flash, avoidant attachment style reader, emotionally unavailable reader, flashy flash’s past is catching up to him in a sense

Synopsis; In a distant universe where somehow the S-class hero Flashy Flash is bound by these overwhelming feelings of limerence and endearment for an average, drained university student.

✎Word count; 1.6k

♪ Playlist; I don't smoke

A/N; expansion on his falling inlove headcanons but its not happy<3 also I hate this and I miss sonic</3

Love is tragic. When you've never been loved before. It's difficult. It's confusing. It's simply a hassle. 

But you were beautiful. You were love to him. You radiated everything he never knew he yearned for. You made him pause and ponder. You made his confidence halt and coil into a skittish knot. You were everything to him.

And you were just tragic. 

You were numb. You believed you were broken. You never understood why you could never reciprocate all he showed you. You cared about him, more than anything. But all that care you have for him could never compare to the stark devotion he bore. 

There was nothing to you: You were a lone college student, trying to pay off your loans and putting your all into studying and working. You were a shell of your past self, sacrificing what you once knew as content for the sake of your future. Everything you felt was simply muffled.

Yet somehow he had found something even you couldn't fathom. The sheer love he portrayed baffled you. It didn't make any sense.

"You're my world." Came his silky voice, pooling within you as he pulled you into an embrace. His features were loose. A soft, unguarded smile lined his face whilst he stood in your cramped, sheltered room. 

He was acting more affectionate than usual. He must've been happy since you didn't leave his messages on delivered for hours today.

An audible exhale aired out your lungs as you eased into him, hulling your hands to lightly wrap around his torso with your weight supported against him.

Probably because you had called him to walk you home, instead of him showing up on his own.

He melted into your aroma and relished in the foreign sentiment you were gifting him. 

In the eyes of the public, he was sharp and composed. Charming with his striking features and stone-cold expression, and he tried to uphold that image with you.

But no matter how vigilant he was, he couldn't hold back that ardent flow of affection that consumed him when he was with you, or the anticipation, or the desperation. So once you two were veiled beneath the walls of your room, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to that unbothered, cold domino of his, it always managed to slip away.

"You're so cheesy, flash." You meekly muttered into his chest.

"Only for you," his lips moved against the top of your head, before pressing a soft kiss. 

In truth, Flashy flash was like a deprived puppy. He would inwardly wag his tail and fawn over the littlest of declarations. Every time you'd push yourself to do more, force and forge a new part of you for him, no matter how insignificant it seemed, he would clasp it close to him and smile every time he remembered it, losing himself in a state of reverie. From a small peck on his cheek, to an 'I missed you', to a fleeting compliment.

You had held his hand voluntarily and stood close to him today, and even told him he looked nice. 

You could tell how much those little gestures meant to him.

"I love you." He spoke. As if the way his slim fingers tenderly trimmed across your cheek couldn't already speak in his stead. Your gaze kept locked with his for a few moments.

"I love you, too." You murmured, subtly leaning into his touch.

And with that, you've exhausted yourself. Again you're reminded why you're always strained with him. He yearns, needs too much, and you simply have too little to offer.

A strange sense of apathy and guilt riddles within you as you drift off to sleep, unseen fragments of his presence still hanging in the room.

 

Amidst the eerie quiet, the shuffling of fabric and the soft clinking of keys and coins could be heard throughout the empty restaurant. The chairs were flipped symmetrically on the wiped-down tables, the precision of your work evident with the air of cleanliness encasing the space. 

Your eyes moved to glance at the cold cup of coffee on the counter. Flashy flash had dropped by earlier in your shift and snuck in the back, handing you the beverage. You gave him an abrupt 'thank you' and a nod, before trotting back to your work, ignoring the tick of dejection he let slip past his tentative mask. In the middle of the bustling job, you had completely forgotten about it. 

You walked out the back and through the drink in the large garbage disposal, the sounds of it hitting a few rotten bags and the contents within it splashing all over the container following you as you headed back inside.

As your finger pressed on the home button on your phone, revealing the string of untouched notifications left by him, you bit the inside of your cheek. You didn't bother scrolling through them, fully aware that your cruel self wouldn't be as kind as you had been yesterday.

After making sure all your tasks had been intricately completed, you headed out of the restaurant, locking the doors and giving the knob a curt tug.

Two familiar back-to-back clicks against the concrete floor were all the indications you needed to expel a worn-out breath.

"Hey. Sorry I didn't text you, you saw how busy it was today." You dragged your head to turn to him, his face holding a solemn exterior, emphasized by the illumination of the street lamps and shading his complexion perfectly. The metal plates shaping him glistened under the lights, and your eyes fanned over them for a moment before going back to search his stoic face.

He briskly shrugged, his features still, and let out an unamused hum. "It's fine."

You forced a quick smile, your eyelids heavy with your day's load, energy noticeably depleted. His eyes surveyed your posture. He knew you hadn't drank his coffee. He cleared his throat, then went to press a hand to the small of your back. 

You shuddered, your brows denting for a blink before your quick reflexes smoothed them out. Your legs moved forward, pushing you to walk ahead and escape his touch. He paused for a moment, his eyes betraying his composure. 

He pulled his hand back to his side and joined you, taking him only a few strides to catch up to you.

He walked you home as always, but the tension pressed heavily in the atmosphere, and the gap, the actual gap you left between you and Flash as you walked, only made the deprivation in him sting further.

"Goodnight. See you tomorrow." You yawned, not waiting for a response as you went to close the door. But before it could click shut, his hand flew up to push against it. You blinked, allowing him to push the door open, revealing the deep lour pinching at his expression, once painted with a calm, unfeeling look only a moment ago.

"What is it?" His voice rasped desperately.

"Huh?"

"What did I do? Just tell me what I did." His pupils searched yours for those answers he constantly chased. Your jaw clenched. You let go of the door and took a deliberate step back, letting him step inside.

"You didn't do anything. Listen- I'm just tired, ok?" You tried to reassure him with another strained smile as if he couldn't see through every empty grin you plastered for his sake. "You know how things can get for me, right?"

His lips pursed and he shook his head.

"I don't get it." His restless hand ran through his long hair, pushing a few strands back. "You were fine yesterday. We- we were good! Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not trying to act like anything, flash." You state.

"Then what is it!? I've done everything for you, I got you gifts, I told you I loved you, I missed you, and I still have no idea what's going through your head." He looked defeated as he spoke, longing eyes staring into your jaded ones. Your brows furrowed, and you looked away from him.

"I never asked for you to do anything... don't make me feel like I owe you," Outwardly, he didn't react to your words, but even without looking at his face, the silence told you enough. It stayed like that for a few seconds, the awkward sounds of inhales filling the quiet space.

"It's not about you asking, Y/n. I do these things because I want to show you how much you mean to me." He took a step forward, pressing his hand over his chest. "We're a couple. Shouldn't that mean something?" 

You couldn't handle the uncharacteristic crack in his voice. 

"Yes, it does-"

"Then what am I doing wrong?!" He cut you off.

"Nothing- You're doing nothing wrong!" You raised your voice, a little panic rising in your chest. He could see it too. He took a step back, his gaze averted to the ground.

"I thought it would get better." He whispered, and his nose scrunched as he looked back up at you. "But it just feels like I'm with a corpse."

You sucked in a sharp breath, something in you constricting at his statement. However, you knew there was nothing false about what he said. You both looked away from each other, the deafening silence taking place once again between your proximity. 

After a few agonizingly long moments, he breathed out a sigh, his form visibly deflating.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" his voice was hardly audible.

You gave him a quick glance then looked elsewhere as you responded. "...You're just too much for me sometimes. I'm sorry."

You could see his fist clench from the corner of your eyes. 

He stood there, your words eating away at him. You hesitantly looked up at him, just in time to watch his features mend to their standard front. He nodded and turned to leave, muttering a faint farewell under his breath.

Your lips pressed together into a thin line. You sighed, because you knew you couldn't drive him away, that your words were nothing near enough to detach himself from you. And you'll keep on musing about how someone so special in every sense could want a vacant ghost much like yourself.