#like dill for short

[ffc1cb]

some parslies from my sketchbook and then some. and then some dill

[dilly-monster]

I moved last week and everyone had a terrible time lmao

[lemonandlime22]

Just so Tired

Summary: Mc doesn't know how much more of this they can take.

Warning(s): angst, om nb spoilers mostly L15 spoilers, cussing

Word count: 603

A/N: Just a quick angsty nightbringer drabble, I know there are a lot of these but I rly like em. I've been so very caught up in getting the last bit of school done before summer break, just a few more days and ill hopefully be able to post more again.

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

They all looked so happy there, just talking to Satan and asking all these questions about his books. Even Satan began to grow more excited as he answered them, reminding you of Levi when he talked about his interests. Times like this always made your heart grow warm with love and the feeling of peace, seeing them all happy together, not fighting, bickering, and with no problems that need fixing. You always made sure to stay quiet and just watch during these times unless any of them brought you into the conversation, you didn't want to disturb them and you were happy to just watch with a soft smile and warm eyes.

You felt so at home here, well obviously, this was your home and had been for years. And there for a moment you forgot, forgot all about how these brothers barely knew you and how much of an outsider you were to them, about how they don't share the memories you have with them.

But that moment was short and you were brought back to reality not a second later when Satan went on about a book he had recently started, looking at the cover you recognized it. It was one of the first books he had recommended to you, he always talked about how much of a good classic it was. And just like that, your guard was up again and you were aware of your position in this place.

You were their attendant, not family. This house was no home to you, at least not now. You could feel your heart being ripped apart for what felt like the millionth time since that fucker sent you here. You didn't know how much more you could take.

There was a ball that formed in your throat as you looked onto the warm moment before you. You truly hated it here, you hated how you couldn't be fully open with your family, with the people that you had grown to trust and love so much. You hated that you could no longer trust them and you had to be careful with what you said. You would love nothing more than to take Beel and Belphie up on their offer of talking to them, but you couldn't, you couldn't tell them a damn thing.

That ball grew as tears threatened to spill from your eyes and it felt like you would have to choke back sobs at any second. While they were distracted you quietly slipped out of the room and slowly made your way through the house, seeing it now as a reminder of the situation at hand only helped the tears spill.

By the time you made it out the front door, your cheeks were already stained with tears and more were following. Grabbing your DDD from your pocket you dilled for Solomon,

"Hello dear Mc, what cracklin'-" Solomon paused his sentence as he heard your choked-back crying, he only sighed and reassured you he'd be there soon to pick you up. By the time he got to the House of Lamentation you had stopped crying and just staired blankly at the ground with your knees hugged to your chest.

He sat next to you on the stone stairs, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. "Solomon..." You spoke quietly, almost to yourself. "Yeah, Mc?" There was a silence between the two of you that setaled back in for a moment before your shaky horse voice cut through it once more, "I..I'm tired..."

The wizard sighed and placed a protective arm around your shoulders "I know Mc...I know..."

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

[ohtobeleah]

Arrival // Robert Floyd

Summary: Your early morning pregnancy cravings turn into more then what you bargained for when you go into labour.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Pregnancy. Birth. Robert Floyd x F!reader. Mickey Garcia x Platonic! F!reader. Inaccurate depiction of birth. Fluff!

Author Note: Hi! Happy Saturday folks! Yes, I’m painfully aware this isn’t what you wanted this weekend. However, it’s what you’re getting. So sit back, relax, and enjoy for once something fluffy as fuck.

It wasn’t all that often that you got a good night's rest this late into your pregnancy. Every night was the same as the last, up and down, side to side, kick here and a pain there. You woke with a hiss as  the feeling of what felt like the left side of the rib-cage breaking in half. Your hand imminently came up to caress your stomach, thirty seven weeks along, with no sign of labour in sight. 

“Shh—go back to sleep, little one.” You whined as you slowly circled your hand over your swollen belly. As the kicking persisted the realisation set in that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon. “Without fail hey?” It was almost a nightly ritual at this point. You’d toss and turn for a few short hours before you’d accept your fate. 

As you sat up carefully and ever so slowly so as to not wake your boyfriend, you checked the time on your phone. You were, at the very least— unimpressed at the time staring back at you, 2:30am. A slight moan left your mouth as you rolled over to see the love of your life, Robert Floyd, sleeping soundly next to you. A soft but all consuming smile crept across your face at the sight of him. He was just unapologetically Bob. His soft nature and caring personality was what drew you to him in the first place, and now, in the early hours of the morning, you fell just a little more in love with him with every soft snore that escaped past his slightly parted lips. The love you had for your partner Bob radiated through you like the strongest drug of all. It was so powerful and so consuming that your little bundle of joy that was due earth side any day now felt that love and got a little too excited. A hard kick planted itself into your side. 

“Yeah bubba, I know.” You tried to contain the small gasp of pain that threatened to echo out into the quiet of the night as you rubbed your stomach in a sweet soothing motion. “Daddy’s still sleeping, I wish I was too.” You swore if you could see your baby girl right now, she’d be poking her tiny tongue out at you. Every bit the cheeky girl her dad used to be when he was a little boy. 

“Ow!” You winced, your little bundle of joy really enjoyed using you as her personal punching bag. “Bub, please stop yeah? It’s not funny anymore, well it never was to begin with, but yeah just cut it out okay?” You spoke to your expected daughter a lot, you’d read somewhere that while in the womb expected children can hear voices and recognise important people like mum and dad. a”let’s go get something to eat before daddy wakes up.” You spoke softly to yourself under your breath as you waddled your way into the kitchen. 

At the beginning of your pregnancy, Bob had begun  stockpiling the fridge and pantry with weird and wonderful food so you would never go without. You bit your lip as you looked through the plentiful pantry, your eyes fell on the fresh container of peanut butter. Placing it on the counter you opened the fridge, your mouth instantly salivated at the sight of the pickle jar. Specifically dill pickles, specifically the kind Bob's grandma made. There was nothing better than a crisp home-brined pickle and your little girl couldn't agree more as you used the small, strategically placed stepping stool to help yourself up onto the kitchen bench. It wasn’t long at all before you had the lid of the peanut butter off and were dipping the pickles straight into the peanut butter. 

Your little girl kicking at your stomach as if to say she was happy with your late-night or rather early morning decision.

“I know, good right?” You giggled to yourself as you dipped another pickle into the peanut butter. It wasn’t long at all before you heard heavy footsteps pattering down the hall from your bedroom. “Opp, it’s the fed's baby girl.” You teased loud enough so that Bob could hear. “Hide the evidence.” A gentle hand landed on your shoulder, massaging the tense muscle softly as you leaned into your boyfriend’s touch. 

“What unholy thing are you snacking on this early in the morning baby?” You heard the early morning grumble in a sleepy Robert Floyd’s voice as he wiped his hand over his eyes. 

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it, besides—“ you took another bite of the peanut covered pickle. “Your daughter was the one craving it, not me.” Everything you had eaten in the past month had been at the decision of your unborn child. She was picky and very weird. The amount of watermelon you had consumed had to have been a world record and you couldn’t stand the smell of any kind of cooked meat right now. It was later in your pregnancy that your cravings and food aversions really started to hit and hit hard. 

Bob moved himself between your legs as they dangled over the edge of the counter-top to rest his hands on your hips. 

“Why do you insist on making your mama eat weird food combinations baby? And not to mention she doesn’t like to be woken up at all hours of the morning. She needs her beauty sleep angel, well not that she isn’t beautiful, but you get the point.” Bob babbled as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your belly. She kicked in response to hearing her daddy's voice. “You know—” Bob smirked as he came back up to leave a kiss on your lips, trailing tender kissing down the left side of your neck. “You look awfully sexy while you’re pregnant, not that you weren’t sexy before, but you have this glow about you that I can't resist.” Bob continued his assault on your neck. 

A soft moan left your mouth as your lips parted at the feeling of Bob’s warm lips against your neck. He ran his hands up your oversized shirt which was coincidentally, his, and placed them atop your baby bump. 

“I can’t wait to meet our beautiful girl, she’s going to be just as perfect as you, I know it.” 

“Mmm, I’m not perfect Bob.” You tried to argue as you bit into the next pickle. Bob chuckled at the sight of you obnoxiously chewing, purposefully exaggerating your facial expressions. It didn’t take him long at all to cave in to the curiosity.

“Okay let me try—“ Bob gestured to the pickle in your hand. “C’mon, give me a bite.” You dipped it into the peanut butter once more and placed it in his awaiting mouth. Bob's face contorted into something of disgust as you chuckled softly. He ran to the sink to spit the pickle out. “Oh god, that’s definitely a flavour combination I’m not keen to try again.” Spitting into the sink, Bob washed his mouth out with the running tap. 

You couldn’t control your laughter, tears had begun to form in your eyes. “Oh? you think that's funny, huh? We’ll see who’s laughing in a second.” Bob teased as he sauntered back over to you and started his assault on your body. His fingers moved all over your body sending shivers and Goosebumps all over. 

“Robert! Stop it, stop B-Bob!” You laughed out loud through gasps and giggles as he continued tickling you. In the early hours of the morning Bob let out a boisterous laugh. He loved you. Oh so much. 

“Who's laughing now huh?” 

“Bob, I can’t breathe s-stop p-please—.” As you pleaded with your boyfriend, you felt as if you wet yourself, however, unlike all the other times you have due to your baby girl pressing inconveniently on your bladder, this time felt more intense. The feeling kept going until you saw water dripping down the bench.

“Bob! oh—oh my god, I think, I think my water just broke.” Bob's eyes imminently widened as he stared at you in fear. Like the last nine months hadn’t been building up to this very moment. 

“What? You aren’t due for another two weeks?” Worry was prominent in his tone. You could tell he was starting to panic, the thought of him having a life dependent on him starting to set in. You knew you needed to calm Bob before things progressed into something more severe, so you reached out to grab his face with both your hands and rubbed the pads of your thumbs against his cheeks. 

“Bob homey, listen to me.” Those ocean blue eyes were truly home to you. “My water just broke— so you need to take me to the hospital yeah? Fanboy and I put an emergency hospital bag together a few weeks ago in case I went into labor while we were out so it's in the back of the Jeep.” 

“Oh, okay, i-i'll go wake h-him up.” Bob and Fanbky had lived together off base since they first came back to North Island a few years ago. They’d been friends for as long as you’d known Bob for. “Holy shit—I can’t believe this is act-actually happening.” He stuttered as he lent into your hands, the feeling of you caressing his check comforted him. Of course, you’d go into labor and STILL have to take care of Bob, you were his rock, his entire world, you’d always be there to take care of the love of your life so nothing was different about this situation. 

Bob helped you down off the kitchen countertop as a sharp pain radiated throughout your lower abdomen. It took your breath away for a moment. You circled your hand over your stomach and took a deep breath in. 

“Ohh— little girl you just had to come tonight didn’t you?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Mickey? could you maybe drive a little be faster, please?” The contractions had come quickly. Bob was sitting in the back with you, stressed as all hell, rubbing small circles against your lower back as you tried breathing through the pain as best you could. All Mickey did was smile at you through the rear-view mirror. 

“Y/n, even when you’re in labour you're still so nice.” Mickey grinned— he was so excited to meet his best friend's first child. His daughter. 

“How you feeling bub?” What kind of a stupid question that was, you thought to yourself. 

“Umm not good, I just want to get to the ho-hospital.” Tears now traveled down your face. “I’m scared baby, I don’t think I can’t do this.” Your contraction eased, you were thankful for the moment to breathe as you settled back against the backseat. 

“Baby, Y/n, listen to me yeah?” Bob held your face softly between his slightly calloused hands, the pads of his thumbs collecting your tears. “You are the strongest person I know, you carried our baby girl for nine months, nine months baby! You can do this and I'll be with you through the whole thing.”

“yeah! so will I!” Mickey tried to lighten the mood, he thought if he could make you laugh you’d feel a little better before yet another contraction washed over you. “Y/n please try not to have a baby on my new seats?” Fanboy joked as he tried to keep you smiling. You knew Mickey was joking the moment he said it. He was such a good support system. 

You let out such a loud moan that you were convinced the car next to you at the red light could hear you. 

“I’ll try not to Mick b-but I’m n-not going to p-promise you anythi-OH-MY, GOD! Bob, help me.” As you wailed you grabbed onto Bob's forearm and squeezed through your pain. It felt like a million more hours had passed you by before you were finally arriving at the emergency room waiting bay at the Miramar Base Hospital. 

“Baby, we’re here okay, as soon as Mickey pulls up i'll help you out.” Bob kissed your temple, sweaty and hot, as you leaned into him already exhausted from the last hour and a half since your water first broke. As Bob hopped out to help you, Mickey ran up to a nurse going inside the hospital. Probably coming back from taking a breath of fresh air. 

“Excuse me miss? My best friend's fiancée is in labour, she needs help.” You didn’t even register at first what he called you. You were just Bob's girlfriend, not his fiancée. You couldn’t help but scoff at yourself for thinking too much into what Fanboy had called you while you were literally about to give birth. 

“What’s so funny? Bob asked. “You okay babe?” Again, no. No you weren’t okay. But Bob was just doing his best to be the support you needed right now. 

“Nothing hun, just excited to meet our little girl who’s currently trying to tear me to shreds right now.” It wasn’t an exaggeration—you felt as if you were about to be split in two. 

But it was about to be so worth it. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Three hours later: 

“AAHHHH, fucking hell can’t she come any faster!” you were in so much pain at this point. You were currently bent over the hospital bed leaning your head on the bars and moving your hips around in a circular motion. Bob was being nothing but supportive, feeding you ice chips every once and a while and rubbing your lower back. He hated seeing you in so much pain. Even if you were a  sweaty cracked out mess Robert Floyd still thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

 “You're doing great baby, I know she’s being stubborn, but she’ll be here soon.” A nervous laugh left your mouth.

“Screw you, Floyd, she’s already just like her dad, stubborn and what feels like big headed!” Bob fed you another ice chip as he ran his finger over your bottom lip as you took it from his hand. 

“I’ll let that comment slide considering you're bringing our daughter into the world.” Bib moved your hair over your shoulder to gain access to your neck. His peppered gentle kisses along the side as your latest contraction subsided. Things were progressing smoothly, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

You were glistening with a layer of sweat from your contractions as your body prepared itself for birth. exhausted from the pain, you leaned into Bobs touch, his arms snake their way around your body to support your weight. 

“Come on bub lets get you in bed yeah?” Bob moved the covers back and you slid in slowly, almost scared that any movement you made could trigger your next contraction. As Bob was placing the thin blanket over your legs the nurse came in to check on your process. 

“You’re about eight centimetres dilated honey, we can start to push at ten so your very close.” You almost didn’t respond. You were far too tired to think as you rolled over onto your left side as another contraction washed over you. Bob noticed you struggling to breathe and placed the oxygen mask they nurse had previously set up for you on. 

Bob pushed your hair back and tied it up in a loose ponytail, he was just trying to make you as comfortable as possible. You looked at him. He was so perfect, you couldn’t imagine going through this amount of pain for anyone else. He was your biggest supporter, your best friend, your therapist. You were his soulmate, his biggest Stan, his number one girl. From the moment you met Robert Floyd you instantly gravitated to each other, a wonderful flirtatious friendship which bloomed into a beautiful relationship complete with all its perfect imperfections. 

He would stop by the small coffee shop on his way to work every morning and you’d be there, with his order ready to go and made to perfection. 

At this point, you were coming close to your three-year anniversary, your gift to Bob? Telling him you were pregnant. The poor guy almost had a heart attack but was ecstatic, to say the least. 

You caught yourself reminiscing and focused back on Bob “I love you so much.” You mumbled into the mask. He smiled back at you letting out a chuckle.

“You won’t be saying that in a few moments baby.” Bob was already prepared for the worst. You were always the nicest out of the two of you and that was saying something. You felt your whole body tighten at the feeling of what felt like the most painful contraction yet and that was it, you couldn’t hold in the cry that you let out. It was a guttural scream as you tried to breathe through it the best you could.

Bob’s face filled with heartache as he watched the women he loved unconditionally go through agonising pain, he’d give his life to ease your pain just the slightest bit, yet there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. And it killed him. 

“Babe, I’m going to get the nurse okay.” He started to move away but you pulled him back by his arm. “Honey—“

“Don't you dare leave me, Robert Floyd, I n-need you here now.” Your eyes filled with tears as the light layer of sweat turned into dripping beads. Just as Bob turned back to say he’d be right back you felt a sudden urge to push. 

“Bob, I need this baby out of me right now! I can’t do this anymore!!” Sobbing, you screamed out in pain just as the nurse ran in.

“Darling I heard you from the reception, do you feel like you need to push? She said as she sat down on the swivel stool and rolled herself in between your legs at the end of the bed. 

“YES! YES, I need this fucking thing out of me NOW!” You felt bad for Bob at this point. He was just standing there holding your hand as you endured the most amount of pain he’d ever seen someone go through. He must have pressed the call for help button moments prior as three other nurses ran into the room. 

“Okay Y/n on the count of three I want you to push for me, can you do that? Dad, I want you to count down from ten for me out loud okay? Y/n don’t stop pushing till he’s finished counting” you nodded your head. “Okay in three, two, one push Y/n push” Bob held onto your hand a little tighter as he began to count down from ten, you pushed as hard as you could.

 “7, 6, 5….” 

“BOB COUNT FASTER!” Screaming at the top of your lungs, you continued to push, gripping his hand as tight as you could in the process. 

One—alright Y/n stop pushing, have a break, you did so well darling.” The nurse said as she inspected exactly how far along your baby was. You fell back onto the pillow, just to look up at Bob. 

“Make. It. stop.” Your breathing weighed heavily on your chest. Bob looked at you with wide eyes. He felt helpless. 

“I wish I could baby I’m so sorry, you're doing so well yeah? Just a few more pushes and she’ll be with us forever.” You had to push again, this time wasn’t any easier, but you knew that every second you pushed as hard as you could you would meet your baby girl quicker. That this would be over. That the pain in this moment would be worth it. That the last nine months were entirely worth it. 

“I hate you, I hate so much, you did this to me.” You looked at Bob, the love of your life, almost ready to pass out. “You are never coming anywhere near me again after this.” Bob couldn’t have looked more upset. He knew you were in agony though. He knew you were just going through it. 

“Don’t worry daddy, she’ll still love you after this, probably even more.” The nurse between your legs chuckled. “I hear it all the time.” 

“The hell I will!!!” You interrupted the nurse making her and Bob both laugh. He was so in love with you. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

You were on your final push. 

“Okay Y/n final push and your baby girl will be here, are you ready?” Drenched in sweat, completely and utterly exhausted you mumbled up to Bob who had yet to let go of your hand the entire time. 

“Just get this thing out of me.” Pushing as hard as you could, a scream erupting from your throat and suddenly, the pain was just……gone. A small cry filled the room and your head hit the pillow, exhausted. A few moments passed and the nurse returned to place the newly wrapped bundle of joy onto your chest, yet to be cleaned of all the blood and gunk from inside you. But oh she was perfect just the way she was. 

“Oh, oh hi little one I’m your mama.” Tears of joy streamed from your eyes as you looked at your baby girl for the first time. She was perfect, everything you could have imagined and more. 

“She so tiny, hi baby girl, I’m your daddy.” Bob whispered as he gently touched his little girl's tiny head. “Baby, you did so well, I'm so proud of you.” He kissed your forehead in thankfulness. “Thank you so much for giving me the best gift of all, thank you for giving birth to the best little girl in the world.” Bob couldn’t control his tears as he planted another kiss on your forehead. “I love my girls so much.” 

“I don’t hate you, I could never hate you.” laughter escaped from both your mouths. “Here, you wanna hold her?” Bon nodded with a gentle smile that had crept across his face. You lifted your baby girl up towards Bob's strong awaiting arms, he held her so close, so gently. Your heart overflowed with happiness. He’d never let anything bad happen to her. Not to his little girl. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Two hours later 

After receiving some stitches and getting cleaned up you were happily resting with your newborn on your chest getting precious skin to skin time. 

“Y/n are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” At this point it felt like the whole world had seen your vagina, so you didn’t really care if Fanboy had stuck around in the waiting room for updates. Now, he stood by the window, wondering if he was crossing some invisible boundary as you tried your hand at breastfeeding. 

“No Micky,  I really don’t care, trust me, I’m just happy this little one is here”. Bob had gone to get you three some food, naturally asking Mickey to watch over his girls while he was gone. He was busy giving the rest of the Daggers updates on how you and your newborn were travelling. 

“Hey Mick? When we arrived here this morning you said something to the nurse. It was probably an accident and I’m totally over-analyzing the situation, but you referred to me as Bob's Fiancée?” Fanboy spat the water he was drinking from one of those little plastic cups all over the room, completely shocked with the statement. Did he actually? In the whirlwind did he actually let that one slip? 

“I uhhh, i-I did? Huh, that’s so weird, I honestly didn’t even notice I did that.” At this point, after having known Mickey Garcia for well over three years, you could read him like the back of your hand, you knew he was lying. But just as you were about to answer back, your baby girl started to cry, wanting to be fed. 

“Here, ill leave, give you some privacy” Fanboy thought he was doing you a favour as he begun walking towards the door of your maternity room when you stopped him. You weren’t all that ready to be alone yet. What if something happened? 

“Please stay Mick? I really don’t want to be alone and plus Bib would kill you if you went against his wishes and left his girl alone.” The tiny baby latched straight onto your nipple no problem. She was just perfect. 

“Okay, but i'll face the window, I feel like a pervert.” 

“Then don’t perv then?” Minutes later she was done feeding, You gently gave her a quick burp and asked Mickey if he could put her in her baby bed, so you could at least get a few minutes of sleep. She had after all woken you up at a crisp two thirty in the morning. 

“I don’t want to hurt her, are you sure you want me to?” 

“Of course I do! you’re her uncle, plus I know that we’re going to need your help a lot so you may as well start practicing now.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

You must have been out for a while, when you woke up, a smiling Robert Floyd was nursing his baby girl. Holding her close as he paced around the room. 

“I'll protect you with everything I have darling, you’ll always be loved and cared for. Your mamma was my best girl, my one and only love, I didn’t think I could love another girl as much as I love her but then you came into my life and I'd happily use her as a shield to protect you.” He laughed at his own joke. 

Great, the first dad joke and it was only the beginning of your forever of your lives together, you thought to yourself. A tiny cry came from the little human in his arms. “Shhh, shhh don’t wake your mama up darling, she’s been through a lot to get you here to me, she deserves her rest now my sweet, sweet girl.” Bob bounced her as he walked around the room slowly. 

“We still have to pick a name for you baby, I like Lily or Sky, we can’t name you Natasha because that would give Aunty Nix too much power, and we don’t want that now do we?” You laughed, startling Bob a little that he jumped a bit.

“Sorry I scared you, but very true. If it means anything I love the name Lily.” Bobs eyes went wide as a smile grew from ear to ear. 

“Did we just name our daughter?” Biting into your bottom lip you nodded in agreement. He walked over to you dawning beaming smile. Bob was completely filled with all the  love in the universe for his two beautiful girls. 

Bob placed Lily down onto your chest and you noticed something odd around her tiny fingers. You took a moment to process what it was. A shiny diamond ring, the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. besides your beautiful daughter.

“Bob?” Was all that fell out of your mouth before your eyes started to well for the seventh hundred time today. He brought his chair up to the side of your bed and rested his hand on the side of your face, caressing your wet check just as you had done to him back at home earlier that morning. 

“Y/n will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” Bob had told Fanbky earlier that week he was planning on asking you to marry him. That why in the flurry, Mickey had let it slip. 

You knew this day would come, you felt it in your heart. You loved Robert Floyd so fiercely and so tenderly and you knew he loved you just as much. 

He reached out gently to place the beautiful engagement ring his grandmother had given him on your finger. And with the happiest of tears with your newborn resting on your chest, you got the chance to say yes. 

“Robert Floyd, I thought you’d never ask.”

[bumblesimagines]

On the Mountain

Request: Yes or No

Summary: An injured songbird finds herself unable to fly for much longer but her luck seems neverending when she's found and nursed back to health.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Hunger Games warnings, mentions of the 10th Hunger Games, implied PTSD/PTSD induced nightmares, mentions of Coriolanus Snow

~~~

Her breathing came out in short, wheezy gasps, her trembling legs threatening to buckle and give out from underneath her with each step she took through the brush. Her lips quivered, whether from the pain or the cold clinging to her wet body, she couldn't quite tell but she knew she had to stop running eventually. Her legs stung from scrapes and cuts sustained from the branches and twigs of the bushes she'd ran through, the bottom of her skirt torn up and cold to the touch from rainwater. 

She had to keep going. She had to. He'd kill her otherwise. 

Through her blurry vision, she missed the log resting along the ground and tripped over it, her body tumbling to the ground and a shriek of pain leaving her lips. She clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, silencing herself and praying Coriolanus Snow had given up his hunt. Lucy Gray rolled over onto her back with a wince and a choked sob, her shaking hand lifting from her side and lifting to hover over her face, a droplet of blood splattering onto her cheek. 

It'd been stupid, she knew that well, to wait and see if her trap had worked. All her time in the meadow, all her time learning about snakes and how to avoid them had paid off nicely. She'd almost felt guilty, listening to his worried and desperate shouts, until she watched the concern crumple into fury faster than a lightning strike. The snake had been non-venomous, of course, just a mere distraction to keep him occupied while she debated what to do. He hadn't given her much time to think after putting a bullet in her side, though. 

Lucy Gray dropped her arm down onto the forest floor, her glassy eyes staring up at the sky above her. Each breath she took felt like fire coursing through her veins and she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps... it'd all been for nothing. The singing, the desperate measures to make money, surviving the Hunger Games, accepting Coriolanus into her life... leaving her friends and family behind. She wondered what they'd think, what they'd say when they figured out she'd fled... when Coriolanus returned without her. Would he lie to them? Claim she'd gone and left them behind to suffer in 12?

"Damn you, Coriolanus..." She exhaled shakily, her features contorting tightly together as the tears slipped freely from her eyes. 

Lucy Gray lied there, on the forest floor, weeping until her body gave into exhaustion, weeping for death to come quick and be more merciful than her lover had been.

Back in the godforsaken arena where she stood on the pile of fallen debris from the rebel bombings, the ground around her covered in a sea of colorful slithering snakes that almost resembled waves. She stood there, paralyzed and motionless, her eyes flickering about to ensure none of the lethal creatures slipped toward her. They'd liked her during the Games, curled around her as if seeking out her warmth rather than her death, but her heart still pumped with fear. 

"Songbird," A voice wailed, one she recognized to have once been filled with malice. Her head whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in her throat at the sight of Carol near the edge with her arm extended out toward her pleadingly. The young girl sunk deeper and deeper into the sea of snakes, desperate wails and cries for Lucy Gray to help her falling for her lips. Lucy Gray remained frozen despite every inch of her wanting to spring into action and drag the poor girl out, forced to watch her disappear beneath scaled bodies. 

A wheezy cough came from her left and she spun her head around toward the source of the noise, a quiet whimper leaving her at the sight of Dill sitting by the edge with her back turned toward her. Another cough tore through her frail body, leaving her breathless and heaving. Lucy Gray's legs gave out from underneath her, her ruffled dress sprawling out around her like a halo. Her eyes refused to tear away from Dill, only watering with tears that fell as Dill shifted to face her, mouth bloodied from the poisoned water she'd drank. The water Lucy Gray had poisoned. 

"I'm sorry." Lucy Gray whispered, her shoulders shaking with hiccups and sobs. She hadn't meant to kill her, truly she hadn't. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm- I'm so sorry." She sobbed, her body leaning forward and hands entangling themselves in her hair. She continued weeping apologies, continued begging for forgiveness until she had no tears left. 

A slither of color caught her eye, her head lifting to search the sea of constantly moving snakes, their colors shimmering with the dim sunlight pouring in. Her breath hitched again, her heart threatening to hammer out of her chest when a pure white-scaled snake slithered out from underneath the bodies and made a direct line toward her.

Coriolanus. 

She barely had time to scream before the snake flashed its fangs and lunged for her. 

With a frightened gasp, Lucy Gray shot upright, her chest rising and falling rapidly with quick breaths. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room, taking in the wooden walls with paintings perched on them and the wooden floor. The only thing she recognized was her bag draped over the chair by the desk, the same bag she'd taken when she and Coriolanus planned to leave 12. Lucy Gray's brows furrowed and only furrowed further when she looked down at herself, noticing the baggy shirt she wore that she certainly hadn't packed. 

The wound, she remembered sharply and fumbled with the shirt before tugging it up and near her ribs. She blinked down at the bandages wrapped just above her hip, her fingers tracing over them curiously. Someone had found her, taken her into the room, changed her, and cared for her injury... but who? Had the Covey figured out what Coriolanus had done and searched for her? Had the violent man himself done it after a change of heart? Even if he had, she needed to leave.

Pushing the covers off her bare legs, Lucy Gray planted her feet firmly on the floor and stood up, only to plop back down when her legs wobbled. "Come on, don't fail me now." She murmured, slowly rising from the bed and extending her arms out to balance herself. Her legs wobbled and shook but nevertheless, she took a step forward and immediately stumbled right into the desk. Progress was progress, she supposed, and stumbled toward the window like a baby deer learning to walk. 

Lucy Gray braced herself against the wall and took in a breath, allowing herself a moment to gather her bearings before she peeked out the window. Her eyes locked on the figure crouched down by what appeared to be a garden, gloved hands tugging out carrots from the soil and tossing them into a basket nearby. She squinted, trying to make out their bowed head to see if she recognized them but the shadow casted over their face only blocked their features. 

Perhaps against her better judgment, she headed toward the door, still staggering but each step helped her get reacquainted with walking again. Opening the door and stepping out, she found herself in a short hallway with two doors near each other and one at the end of the hallway. More paintings hung on the wall, along with strung-up plants and leaves in what looked like small hand-made baskets. When the hallway opened up to a bigger space, she noticed a quaint kitchen on one side and a living room on the other. It all appeared homey and inviting, many things seeming to be crafted by hand with love and care. 

She spared glances around on her way to the front door, searching for pictures or anything that could inform her of the residents' identity but she found nothing. She reached the front door and looked down at her bare feet, her gaze drifting to the big boots by the door. Lucy Gray pursed her lips and then shrugged, sticking her feet into the boots and tying the laces as hard as possible so they wouldn't slip off before she stepped outside. 

Lucy Gray half-expected the hustle and bustle of 12's workers and distant machinery to fill her ears but all she heard were bugs, birds, and the occasional rustling of tree branches brushing together with the breeze. All around her were trees, tall and towering over the cabin but no signs of any nearby homes that could plant her on the outskirts of 12. She took a deep inhale of the fresh air and stepped off the porch, making her way around the cabin to the side where the garden was. 

"Hello, stranger!" She greeted, likely sounding too cheery for someone who'd been shot and left for dead. The person - her savior, she assumed - paused, his head turning to peer over his shoulder at her. He stared at her in confusion for a beat before seeming to recognize her with her.. out of place attire. He peeled the gloves off his hands and tossed them into the basket along with the vegetables, rising up to his full height and perching the basket against his hip. 

"You should be dead." He stated, carefully stepping over rows of soil. "But you're not."

"That's hardly any way to greet someone, friend." Lucy Gray laughed, swallowing down the chill that threatened to slip down her spine. Coriolanus almost killed her, after everything he'd done to help her win. "I'm Lucy Gray Baird! May I have the pleasure of knowin' your name or should I refer to you as 'my hero', hm?" 

His head tilted, likely rethinking his decision to help her. "(Y/N)." 

"(Y/N)... I like the ring of it." Lucy Gray smiled brightly, blinking when he side-stepped around her and headed toward the porch, hardly sparing a glance over at her. She followed him, careful not to trip over the heavy foots weighing her legs down, and mimicked his movements of kicking the bottoms free of dirt. "Now, could you possibly tell me where I am?" She asked, shuffling after him into the cabin once more.

"The forest." He answered simply.

"Well, I guessed as much. Anywhere specifically?"

"North, some miles off the coast. Close to Districts 12 and 3." (Y/N) told her, setting the basket on the counter and beginning to wash the vegetables he'd picked free of dirt. Lucy Gray ripped a paper towel from the holder and dried them as she listened, her actions garnering her a glance. "You've been out of it for a few days. I found you, or- well, I heard you and Thistle tracked you down. It looked like you'd been out of it for almost an hour, I'd guess. Your wound was getting infected by the time I brought you back here. You've woken up here and there, long enough to get some food in your stomach, but that fever you had until yesterday morning kept making you pass out."

"A few days..." Lucy Gray repeated quietly. Coriolanus had likely presumed her dead, then. And the Covey, too. She swallowed thickly at the thought of them mourning or searching for her and let out a soft sigh. "I assume taking care of half-dead girls isn't exactly your normal day-to-day?" 

"Depends. We've had a couple people fleeing the Districts come here seeking shelter or in need of food, mostly 12 and 6 but sometimes 3, too. Sometimes they come with cuts and scrapes or wounds from Peacekeepers. Once they have what they need, Mom or I will take them further up north to the settlements around there. The closest one is District 13 but they're still working toward repairing what was damaged during their war and primarily live underground." 

"District 13? Wasn't it bombed?"

"Humans have a terrible knack for somehow managing to stay alive despite circumstances." (Y/N) shrugged, tucking the basket away underneath the sink and retrieving a pot. He filled it with water and set it over the stove, lighting a match and using it to get a flame started beneath the pot. 

"Thank you for helping me, (Y/N). I hope I can return the favor someday." 

"You can return it now by taking a bath and helping me start dinner. Mom's visiting 13 to trade with them and should be back before sundown just about when the stew will be finished." (Y/N) told her, the corner of his lip quirking. "I'll get a towel and some clothes for you."

Lucy Gray grinned and straightened her shoulders, giving him a nod. "Anythin' for my hero." She laughed at his eye roll and followed him to the bathroom, feeling a weight lifted from her shoulders at the realization she was fine; safe and far away from Coriolanus Snow.

[petermorwood]

Wow-Wow Sauce

For @redwineand12gaugeshells... :->

In fact that bottled sauce (and nervousnigels) no longer exists, and in any case its principal ingredients of (squints) horseradish and mustard are way off base.

Wow Wow sauce was meant to go with boiled beef, and since a major ingredient was the meat's broth *, it was more like a pan gravy made at the end of cooking, than something intended to go into / come out of a jar in the preserves cupboard.

* 1817 was well before stock / bouillon cubes, however "portable soup" was a Known Thing and could be a possible alternative. The recipe is specific about using fresh broth, but here's how to make portable soup, because You Never Know.

Real Wow Wow sauce had no hyphen, no sulphur, no saltpetre and definitely no grated wahoonie, though some "real" ingredients of the Discworld version - mangoes, figs, asafoetida, anchovy - suggest Terry was taking inspiration from labels in his own kitchen, such as those on HP Sauce, Worcestershire Sauce and Yorkshire Relish.

*****

Dr Kitchiner's "The Cook's Oracle" is available online from Gutenberg (the 1833 American adaptation) as well as a PDF of the 1822 UK Third edition from Internet Archive.

Here's his recipe - whose title, for extra interest, includes the original name for what became "Bully Beef":

The good doctor's "pickled cucumbers" would have been vinegared like cornichons or gherkins, not brined like dill pickles. In addition, pickled walnuts are easier to find than they used to be; even the Tesco supermarket chain carries them...

...as well as mushroom ketchup.

You'd probably still need to make the other herb vinegars and the shallot wine (based on dry sherry), but those are easy, just a matter of steeping the herbs in the liquid for a week or so then straining off and bottling the flavoured fluid.

Another useful ingredient for period cooking is anchovy sauce, which is less, er, emphatic than full-on anchovy essence. You could always scale up if you like the taste.

This also has the advantage of being a pleasant - if you like fishiness - sauce in its own right; try a teaspoonful in a tablespoonful of EV olive oil then tossed with hot pasta. Yum...!

This one's from the same company as the mushroom ketchup and the packing clearly emphasises their "period-ness" (is that a word?) The anchovy sauce is a bit harder to find, but well worth tracking down.

*****

Finally, here's a Youtube short of Wow Wow sauce being made and sampled. It looks entirely acceptable, like a cross between a thin chutney and a thick sauce, and would be, to use Dr Kitchiner's own word, "piquante".

As a side-note, that by-play with tinned corned beef was a bit pointless, since its texture and flavour are both utterly unlike beef that's been slowly, gently boiled (simmered, TBH) with halved onions, carrots, root veggies etc.

Use shin or silverside; the magic tenderiser for those cheap cuts is Time (or a pressure cooker) - though you can also add a sprig or two of Thyme if you want...

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

mutual 1: sorry the update for my webcomic this week is a bit late! i really had to rush it so it prolly looks really sloppy lol [some of the most sophisticated comic art ive ever seen]

mutual 2: call me uterine lining the way astarions cervix got me bleeding profusely

mutual 3: do you think nanowrimo will give me a posthumous pity publishing deal if i mention it in my suicide note

mutual 4: okay fine i finally started revolutionary girl utena

mutual 5: does columbo know the service he did for butch lesbians. for all of us

mutual 6: wish you were here [blurry picture set of conifer woods in early autumn evening, taken as if frantically running down a winding trail]

mutual 4: im pretty hardy i dont need the trigger list but thanks for looking out for me guys

mutual 7: good morning lovelies another day the wizard tried to best me and another day i successfully locked him in the spare bathroom lol hope u like drinking shampoo fucker

mutual 8: here is a zip of every yuri manga scan i have and here is a backup in case i get dcma'd. the himejoshi lifestyle will never die

mutual 9: i wish i could go back in time to the shinzo abe assassination and ask to hold the doohickey

mutual 10: here's my essay on how wanting to be loved is the same as wanting to be eaten. three paragraphs in you'll find out that this is 100% tied to an obscure beauty and the beast manga i've been reading lately and how much i want to fuck the beast

mutual 4: oh thats why there was the trigger list.

mutual 11: YOU CAN'T LOCK ME IN THIS BATHROOM FOREVER

mutual 12: why do i have to defend my thesis to people i dont even respect. im not dickriding you just give me the degree

mutual 13: its just me and this scab ive picked into my scalp against the world

mutual 14: my little dragon got glazed and is ready to go into the kiln! everyone wish him good luck!

mutual 3: nvm i am a beautiful genius. perhaps the most beautiful genius of all

mutual 15: i think we should give david lynch rpgmaker and whatever happens happens

mutual 16: kpeyboaatrds brpokem gpuys

mutual 17: also heres my work in progress glossary of mixtec words! i still have a long way to go but i love being able to preserve my roots even in this small way

mutual 4: i just finished the black rose arc. question: what

mutual 18: i need emet-selch to be my wife

mutual 19: i need glados to be my husband

mutual 20: visited the ocean today!!! <3 beach pics!!! there is a darkness growing within me

mutual 21: the forms for my legal name change came in. pls vote in this poll of what my middle name should be: Dill Pickle (Dickle for short), Optimus Prime, Tumblr User Gorgonicteratologist, Smeve

mutual 22: just finished my 100th book of the year! this weeks read was the uses of enchantment by the psychologist bruno bettelheim,

mutual 23: reeses penis butter cups lol

mutual 4: i need to hunt akio for sport

mutual 24: oouugghhrgh. hot. dog.

mutual 25: your favorite character or fictional other would want you to brush your teeth and wash your face so you're well rested and wake up feeling refreshed! make them proud!

mutual 26: being a delivery driver isnt the worst job ive ever had but i do keep wondering what itd be like to drive off into the wild blue yonder one day and not come back

mutual 27: weird dog? [phone picture of critically endangered stork]

mutual 28: i think the two phone line polls in front of my house are having a lovers tryst. no way to prove it tho

mutual 4: WHAT

mutual 29: while you bitches are balduring your gates or finalling those fantasies im doing what a REAL gamer does. playing a b tier rpg that came out in 2004 for the 18th time

mutual 30: ^ real. hamtaro ham ham heartbreak is a masterpiece of interactive art. im not even going to call it a video game at this point

mutual 4: THAT'S HOW IT ENDS?! ANTHY?

mutual 31: can you help me pick which drawing looks better: 34% overlay or 36% soft light?

mutual 32: new video essay out. its called disability in video game narratives: final fantasy 14's most reliable fault. i churned the script out over an all-nighter and my mic crapped out halfway through but by god i did it

mutual 33: my new zine bundle is out! if you buy it you also get a discount on all my game jam games! i really cant wait for you to play them!

mutual 4: yall should watch revolutionary girl utena

[tetheredfeathers]

A little something I wrote inspired by this line.

Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents, the way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods.

She always brought him something from the woods.

The first time she brought him a single dandelion.

It had been a long winter, and the sun had only begun to peek through the cold shadows. It had been a good hunt today, with 2 rabbits and a squirrel shot right through the eyes. Her short dark hair tickled her neck as she practically skipped back home.

That's when she saw it – the first spring flower, a lone dandelion lurking between the wet shadows. She scurried towards it and quickly plucked it, almost afraid it would run away if she wasn't fast enough.

"Peetaaa," her voice rang through the house as she peeled off her shoes and hung her father's hunting jacket on the hooks Peeta had installed for her.

"In here," Peeta called from the kitchen.

She found him all serious, wrinkle between his eyebrows as he kneaded some dough. She skirted towards him wanting kiss the lines between his eyes.

"Hi, bread boy," she whispered sweetly before kissing the frosting off his lips.

"Hi," he said in between kisses

"Mhm, vanilla." Katniss breathed licking his lips.

"Here, try this," he said, spreading a thick layer of icing on a cinnamon roll and handing it her.

"Mhmm, so good. Thank you baby," she said between huge mouthfuls.

"I got you something from town today," Peeta sang, reaching into his pockets.

"Show me, show me," Katniss almost begged.

"You know Thom's little sister, Darlene," she nodded. "Yeah, well, she was really happy with her birthday cake and wanted to give me something in return."

He pulled out a long strip of transparent lace.

Katniss' face broke into a huge smile. "A ribbon? What does she think you're 12 to go around wearing ribbons?" she teased.

"Be nice, Katniss, she's only five. I doubt she knows how to gift a grown man," Peeta said.

"You do know she has a crush on you, right?" Katniss said, grabbing another cinnamon roll, stuffing her mouth once again.

"Who doesn't?" Peeta sassed, swaying his hips.

"I don't," Katniss rolled her eyes.

"Oh really?" he eyed her mischievously before grabbing her arms, leaving all but an inch between their sugary lips. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

She shuddered involuntarily. Even after a year of being with him, just being near him made her weak in the knees. His warm hands slid down her arms before gently turning her around so that her back faced him. Slowly, he brought his hands up to her hair, bunching half her hair into a ponytail and tying the flimsy lace into a bow.

She turned around, beaming in his arms, peering into those blue eyes.

"Wow, birdie, look at yourself."

She blushed bright red before pulling out her dandelion from underneath the table.

"For you," she said shyly, holding it right under his face.

"Thank you, birdie," he said, delicately taking it from her hands as if it would slip from his grasp like water.

Her blush deepened. She loved it when he called her that. It reminded her of her father, that he was still a part of her, and just like him, she still sang wild and free. A bird that's what she was.

"You're my dandelion in the spring, you know that, right?" she whispered.

"I know," he whispered back, burying her mouth in long, warm kiss.

After that, she brought him something every day. Sometimes it would be tufts of dill or rye. Other times, she would bring him shiny stones that reminded her of the color of his eyes. Sometimes a feather or a leaf, but mostly she brought him flowers. She brought him wild onions because it reminded her of the day she broke her heart. She brought him daisies because they were as pure and white like his soul. She brought him sunflowers because he was her sun and followed him everywhere he went.

He kept a whole shelf dedicated to her gifts and pressed the flowers inside his notebook. It helped remind him that all was not lost on the more difficult days when she could not get out of bed or talk to him.

And on the night they conceived their first child, she whispered into his arms.

"I'm going to call her Dandelion."

[flowerishness]

Foeniculum vulgare (fennel) and (Dolichovespula maculata (bald-faced hornet) plus Ammophila procera (common thread-waisted wasp)

We planted this fennel three or four years ago so this short-lived perennial is probably at the end of it's natural lifespan. Fennel looks much like it's relative dill (Anethum graveolens) but fennel is usually much bigger and twice as tall (up to eight feet). Both fennel and dill impart a liquorish flavor to food and both have edible bulbs.

Fennel is a member of the carrot family Apiaceae and in early August, it's like an insect magnet. Like bees, these wasps drink nectar to generate the energy to fly. But, unlike bees, wasps are also voracious meat-eaters and provide your garden with a form of natural caterpillar control.

[faeriekit]

Lunch Break

a two-prompt phic phight fill for @fuyuthefoxwriter; demon!au and fangs

Notes: 1. This IS a continuation of my prev. demon!au (Visitation) 2. based on the laws of Phic Phight you CANNOT read the previous iterations, as it is nsfw and therefore cannot be linked 3. but for the already present fans…it’s a continuation from that. Also, it’s gray ghost. 

*

Valerie likes her boyfriend. 

He’s cute, with a button nose and blue eyes. He’s sweet. He’s kind, and he’s gentle, and if she leaves him alone he takes the toaster oven apart just to see how it works. It’s kind of like living with a small dog who takes apart pillows if you don’t give them enough attention. 

Valerie loves her boyfriend. 

…But the goddamn teeth. 

She pushes his face away, cutting off their kiss with no warning. Danny squawks. 

“Danny,” Valerie implores, again, because they are in public and not in the comfort of their own apartment, “If you cannot keep human teeth while we are making out, we are not going to make out anymore.”

Her stupid, human-shaped boyfriend pouts. Valerie should be pouting. Valerie has to avoid shredding her tongue like she’s kissing a cheese grater. 

Danny, who is the cause of all this, should not be pouting as if he’s been denied the opportunity to stick his tongue in her mouth for no reason, instead of his habit of turning his extremely normal and flat human teeth into something extremely hazardous to tongues and lips everywhere. 

Danny makes the world’s saddest eyes she’s ever seen. It’s very rude of him. Valerie deserves better. “But Val! I brought you lunch!” 

For one, it’s six in the evening. A more apt word might be ‘dinner’. Secondly…

“I work at a burger restaurant,” Valerie points out, arms crossing over the Nasty Burger logo on her shirt for extra emphasis. “I already have dinner. I also have to be back on shift in half an hour, so if you’re not going to put your teeth away, I’m going to finally finish Don Quixote or nap trying.” 

“Yeah, but you hate eating work food for lunch,” Danny points out, because he does do some very sweet things by 1) recognizing her likes and dislikes and 2) applying them liberally throughout their relationship. He holds up a weirdly large tupperware in his hands. It’s clear. It’s green. 

It’s Fenton salad. 

“...So my Mom packed you leftovers after I picked up stuff at the Ops Center, since she knows you like the dill vinaigrette she makes after the ectology conference every year, and she added the shredded carrot and the crumbly cheese you like since no one else in the house eats it, plus some of those little orange slices and the croutons…”

Valerie’s lips purse. Fenton salad. Her favorite. 

…She takes the container from Danny’s outstretched hands, determined to ignore his smug look. Valerie prefers to be right, but higher in priority comes accepting free food from her boyfriend’s mother.

“You’re welcome,” Danny offers, smugly sweet.

“If I kiss you, will you get me with your teeth again?” Valerie asks. She’s deeply suspicious of both his motives and the timing. 

“...Maybe?” 

Valerie looks at him. “Change your answer.”

“...No?” 

“Close enough.” Valerie draws him in, and Danny lets himself be drawn in; the kiss is sweet, and short, and tastes kind of like mandarin oranges. 

He definitely had some of her salad before sharing. Whatever. It’s a good thing she likes him. 

The kiss is lovely, and not very long; separating is a little harder, though, when Valerie realizes that Phantom’s tail is still wrapped around her waist. 

“...Danny.”

“Mmhm?” 

“I have a shift to get to.”

“Yeah,” Danny agrees, entirely ignorant to his least controlled limb holding her back. 

“So,” Valerie continues, and then scratches at the fur in his tail until he flinches with recognition. “Unwrap me, please.”

“Do I…have to?”

Valerie’s look flattens. Danny makes entirely unacceptable goo-goo eyes at her. 

“I have a shift in ten, and your mom’s salad to devour. Move it or lose it.” 

Danny’s tail unwraps. Danny sighs, leaning in for one last peck—

Valerie feels the tips of fangs bite explicitly into her lips. 

Her growl is hardly intimidated by Phantom’s rush of guilty laughter, her demon-shaped boyfriend slipping out of her fingers. Great. Now she can taste blood— the thing she was trying to avoid. 

Seeing him in all of his claws and fangs and teeth and horns in daylight was always a little strange; he was never quite opaque in sunlight. He was always a touch translucent, only just shifted outside of reality. 

And the stupid cow ears.

No, they're not endearing. Shut up.

It certainly didn’t help that if someone saw him turn into a demon, his whole ‘hiding his identity as a half-demon’ thing would be over! He needs to pick better spots for his random acts of infernal dramatics!

“I’m sorrrryyyy,” Phantom shouted from a healthy fifty feet away, floating in the air. It made him hard to reach, but an excellent target. “I looooovvee yoooouuu!” 

No. Valerie will resist reaching into her armor for a weapon to shoot her boyfriend out of the sky with. It is rude. It is unkind. More importantly, Valerie’s not interested in having a public identity reveal behind the Nasty Burger any more than Danny is. 

It’s fine. There’s other options. 

“Put a shirt on!” Valerie hollers back, hands over her mouth. 

Phantom’s mouth drops in the distance, little fangs glinting in the evening sunlight. His clawed hands go over his chest, looking for some perceived gap in his coverage. “I’ve got fur! I don’t need one!” 

“Exhibitionist!” Valerie heckles back. “Nudist!” 

Phantom squawks in offense. “Come on! I’m covered!” 

“Get some pants!” Valerie shouts back, finally attracting the attention of one of her employees. At the sound of the Nasty Burger’s nasty back door creaking open, Phantom bolts off. 

Good. That’s what he gets. 

Temerity peeks through the back door. Her name tag is upside down, again. “Boss…?”

Valerie brushes herself off, grabs a plastic fork from where it was sitting on her ebook reader, and reclines back onto the plastic lawn chair that counts as their ‘break room’. “It was nothing, Temmie. A demon got into the dumpster again.” 

“Oh.” Temerity’s countenance warms. She’d always had an interest in the local occult scene. “Did it leave anything behind?”

“Nah,” Valerie replies, popping open her tupperware. Just her lunch, apparently. “You need any help…?”

“Nope! We’ll be fine until you get back in.” 

That for sure means something’s wrong. Whatever; Valerie is totally satisfied to finish off the last fifteen minutes of her shift with some literature, a bucket’s worth of satisfaction, and her boyfriend’s dismayed texts pinging in bursts onto her phone. 

[shirefantasies]

Idk if/what you’re open to writing right now, but can you possibly write something focused on pippin? Maybe fluff or headcannons or oneshots, whatever you want. I’ll put my trust in a fellow pippin girlie 😉❤️

Ahhh I definitely was not when this very first rolled in but barring any more grievous wounds I am always down to write about my beloved 😌

Pie in the Sky- Pippin x F!Hobbit!Reader

(Gif by @lotrcolors! Didn’t see rules about not using them but will take down if they prefer!)

Perfect dough never fails to put a smile on your face. Sticky as it is, even the feeling of it beneath your hands as you knead it is pleasing. Flames to your left tell you the oven is more than ready to receive its eventual bounty. A few rolls beneath your pin and there you have it, a beautiful drape on the tin before the real treasure is stowed away. Twirling in your flighty joy, you turn for the stove, taking up your pot of wonderful sparkling scarlet raspberry filling. Pouring it in, you see you’ve made a bit extra- muffins might just be in your future, too! Last step is cutting the lattice and then your oven is finally presented its trophy.

You already pulled out the right size hourglass when you got your start, so all there is to it is giving it a flip and you’ve got a little time for inventory.

The fishers had a wonderful haul: bright, shiny salmon you had filleted earlier in the afternoon, leaving only the need to coat them in lemon juice and seasoning. Potatoes as well, potatoes fresh as the salmon, though they are to be fried into chips, not grilled. A plate of roasted zucchini and carrot to say you’re getting your vegetables in. Not to mention the pie.

Every voice in your head had told you to just make enough for yourself, but having a visitor is likely enough, is it not? May as well make a bit extra, you think as you reach for a tin of dill weed.

~

Foolhardy, they say. Foolish indeed to leave a pie cooling upon the sill of your hole’s window lest some rapscallion make short work of it. But what is life without a little chance, you ponder as you check up on your treat, glancing out to the passing road…

“Well, that is about as fine a pie as I’ve ever seen! What’s the occasion?”

Peregrin Took. Pippin, just about the whole Shire calls him. Sprightly, smiling, and green-eyed, the young hobbit comes from quite the family. He is the only one you know of so well, though. Oft is he seen alongside his cousin Merry, particularly for goers of the Green Dragon. You are not quite in that guild, though it has been tempting enough of late.

“No occasion, really,” you reply with a smile, glancing up at Pippin through your lashes, “to be honest, I just felt like it.”

“I can see why," he muses, tone dreamy.

"I made extra. Care to join me for supper?" Leaning further upon your sill, you rest your chin upon your hand.

"If you insist," he answers quickly, "then who am I to say no?"

He slips around the remaining perimeter of your yard, disappearing from your view until you hear a knock at your door. At once you abandon your pie, crossing through your kitchen and hall to open it.

"Well, hello there," Pippin jokes with a wide smile, arms outstretched and heels rocking, "fancy meeting you here!"

"Master Took," you play along, waving him in, "what a pleasant surprise! Please, come in."

Hands running over his shoulders faintly, you help him out of his coat, taking notice of how eager he is to strip himself of the extra layers, unwinding the scarf in record speed and glancing around the entry of your home.

"The kitchen is this way," you wave a hand, "Shall we?"

You take the way he practically trips over his feet on the freshly polished floorboards going forward as a yes, holding out a quick hand to steady him, thinking better of it, withdrawing shyly. Leading him to the dining table, you sit him down at the head of it and make for the kitchen to procure all your supper fixings. One by one you set down steaming platters, Pippin's eyes tracking your every movement before landing on the offerings themselves. You hear his stomach rumble as the smell of the first platter of chips fills the room, say nothing but smile and simply compound the feast until his eyes are wide as saucers.

Master Peregrin Took had caught your eye some time ago, from what day you cannot even say, but at that moment and beyond his wide, wonderful smile and lovely singing voice permeate the back of your mind far too often. Often enough, in fact, that you've taken up the peculiar little habit that finally serves you so well, making far more of anything than you need lest you ever are gifted the luck of the Shire's jolliest soul at your door. And as he sits before you, so close your arms brush as they reach for cups and utensils, engrossed in sharing a story his cousin's gardener told him about the Proudfeet's pumpkins, all you can feel is a glow of warmth and satisfaction.

~

"Mmm," Pippin hums in pleasure between forkfuls, "how did I never know what a good cook you are?"

You shrug, suddenly feeling a little shy. "I suppose I never labelled my creations all too well at any festivals."

"Well, if you keep this up," he teases, "I may just have to keep coming to call."

"Be my guest," you wave a hand and smile widely, eyes remaining upon his, "it isn't often I get company."

You barely trust your ears at his next words. "I can hardly believe that! But I'm more than happy to take up the task."

Wit utterly fails you at that, words lost in the fluttering of butterflies filling your entire being and a smile you cannot have hidden for all the gold in the Shire.

~

Pippin greets you by name this time, leaning into your window with eager familiarity. “You wouldn’t happen to be baking, would you?”

“Why, yes,” you smile back even wider, bending down for a moment to collect proof in the form of a steaming yellow cake before you tease, "if you don't mind waiting for it to cool and get frosted I'd be happy to share. Unless you were just hoping I was busy."

Pippin practically runs around to your gate, bringing yet another smile to your lips as you turn from your cake to the strawberries you'd been slicing.

~

“Excellent party, no?”

Glancing up from your tankard, you see Pippin has slid up to your side, leaning an arm casually upon the edge of the table and giving you that easy smile that makes everything within you flutter. His sandy hair is sprinkled with tossed flower petals and falls about his face, which flickers beneath the lanterns set all about. He’d undone his ever-present scarf, this time letting it hang loosely about either side of his neck and down onto a green velvet waistcoat that brings out those eyes of his.

Nothing else but a smile could have broken across your face at such a sight, joy alongside warmth you can luckily blame upon lanterns and the fires on which spits had been roasting and sheer proximity to all the dancing couples whirling by and other hobbits stopping at the table and idly chatting.

“Just grand,” you reply, only aware in post the surefire dreaminess of your expression, “the music's wonderful, everyone is in such cheer, and the spread is great, too! And now I've got fine company as well!"

"As have I," Pippin replies, glancing away from your gaze, then back to it, "and you are so right about it all. I can't wait to dance the night away! And I've just had about the best cookies of my life!"

You giggle at that, fingers tightening around the wooden mug you held. "Oh yes? And what kind were they?"

"Lavender sugar."

"Ah," your eyes light up, "those would be mine! See what I mean about the labeling? Oh, I'm so glad you liked them!"

Seeing as how it's the sole reason you made anything at all for the birthday of someone's aunt you didn't even know too well.

"Liked them?" He leans closer. "I loved them! But enough of that: how would you care for a dance or five?"

Nothing would have gotten your hands off your tankard with greater haste, its base hitting the red tablecloth at your back faster than he could say "South Farthing".

"I would love that," you tell him, and without a moment's hesitation you are swept up into his arms.

Pippin's hold about your waist is tighter than you'd have expected, but you don't complain a mite at the feeling of his hands on your hips, even the twitch of a finger you'd almost suspect to be the beginnings of roaming if you were any more full of yourself. He goes fast with you, something you hadn't doubted for a moment, and you get a thrill from the way he pulls you in so quickly from a twirl, sending you flying into his chest and caught with his other arm each time. Perhaps you aren't so graceful as some of the other, older or more leisurely pairs out on the open grass, but you know as your bare feet struck the soft ground again and again that you would have it no other way.

~

“Oh, now it’s shortbread?”

You put the hand that isn't holding the basket on your hip, fixing the younger hobbit with a look. “Do you want some or not, Marigold dear?”

"Oh, yes," she replies, golden head bobbing and petite hand reaching to loosen the cloth you've wrapped over the bars, "and I will take one for the old Gaffer, too.”

“Oh, he should enjoy them. It’s my grandmother’s recipe, after all.”

“And who else shall?” Marigold muses, fixing you with a positively catlike smile. “How is my advice about a man’s heart going, then, with Mister Peregrin Took?”

Your easy smile melts into something dreamier, grip on your basket relaxing slightly. “Well, all my baking certainly is bringing us together more.”

“And showing him what a good wife you’ll make him, too. He looked very happy there dancing with you at old Violet’s birthday!”

Before you can stop yourself looking a fool, your smile is widening tenfold. “You think so?”

“Oh,” Marigold waves a hand, “you’re incorrigible! Next time you two dance, just lean in for the kiss!”

“Easy for you to say,” you shoot back, crossing your arms and nearly, but not quite, upsetting your shortbread basket, “I could tell you the same about Tolman Cotton.”

Paling then reddening, Marigold gapes at you and sputters. "Now that is quite different! Tolman is a family friend, after all! If I were to- Why, that friendship might-”

“Uh-huh,” you nod in mock sympathy, a sardonic smile upon your lips, “well, then, perhaps you ought to bake him something. After all, a good friend told me the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Marigold grins. “Yours, maybe! Tolman cares much more about a good spot of fishing than all that.”

“Then you come over to sit in my kitchen and make him a new lure while I muse over what Pippin’s favorites might be. I’ve some dyed feathers I could spare.”

“From what?” Marigold asks, tilted head and smile incredulous as you make your way down the lane.

That is all Pippin catches of the conversation, but it is more than enough, he reflects with a brief proud smirk that quickly melts into a wide, dreamy grin as he glances down at the pair of chocolate-covered shortbread bars in his hands. Your grandma had some good ideas, but she’d never get his heart beating like you did.

~

It is not the most common occurrence in the world to hear your bell ring, so to say you shot up from your sewing is an understatement. All but tossing the shirt whose sleeve you’re repairing down, you pad across your planks to the door, mouth widening into an ‘o’ at the sight of Pippin at your door, a bunch of daisies in one hand and a basket slung upon the opposite arm. Today he is wearing a lavender vest; you don't think you've ever seen him wear lavender before, but of course it suits him.

“Hi there,” he said your name, voice lowering, “I thought I could maybe…take you on a picnic.”

“Oh!” You exclaim, habitually glancing down at your dress and feeling a hand shoot up to your hair. “Well, I don’t know if I’m picnic ready, but-”

“You’re as beautiful as ever,” he remarks with a shrug and the most casual smile, as if he’d commented upon the balmy state of the weather.

“Well,” you glance down toward your feet and fiddle with the end of your sleeve, one arm shyly across your chest, “how can I say no to that? Of course I will go, then. Do you need anything for your basket, though? I admit I haven’t made much fresh today, but I can always-”

At that, Pippin shakes his head, curls flying about his smiling face. “This one is my mother’s treat. It’s about time I pay you back, after all.”

“Oh, alright. Because I do have a leftover pie in the-”

“Yes, bring that.”

You giggle as Pippin continues. “Don’t you worry, though- my mother’s cooking is almost as good as yours! Just don’t tell her I said that.” Punctuating his joke with a wink, he extends his arm and beaming, you take it.

~

Pippin leads you down to the bank of a stream and spreads out a blanket you hadn’t noticed him carrying before, probably due to being too occupied looking into those sweet green eyes and fluttering your lashes at any affection that potentially swims within them. The ground is soft already beneath the blanket, making it quite easy to settle upon your little spot across from Pippin and his basket. Water babbles tranquilly at your side by your feet, glistening in the spring sunshine.

Your companion offers quite the spread, for on top of your pie there is cold chicken and hard boiled eggs, sandwiches with salted meat and cress, cheese alongside the end of the sandwich loaf, fresh red raspberries, and turnovers.

“I hope this is enough.”

“Are you joking?” Your eyes light up, glancing from Pippin to the array of food to the sunlight filtering through the greenery at the stream’s edge. “This is perfect. All of it.”

"It had to be," he says, "I wanted our courtship to start off right."

Falling suddenly deaf to the chirping of birds and babbling of stream, you looked up from your sandwich with wide eyes, again seeing Pippin smiling at you like he'd made the most natural conclusion in the world, this time before tilting a fistful of raspberries into his mouth. Blinking, you search for words, failing momentarily in favor of just grinning over the way Peregrin Took never fails in his unwitting quest to always surprise you. Heat creeps to your face, heat beyond even the beating of the sun down to your head.

Pippin, it seems, takes your silence as a form of denial. All but dropping the plated slice of pie in his hand, he wipes one set of fingers off on the edge of a napkin before waving both hands hastily back and forth.

"Unless I heard your conversation with Marigold wrong. I just got so excited thinking that we could be everything I'd dreamed of and that what you were doing was working. Not that you needed to do it because I already thought you were the prettiest thing I've ever seen and why am I saying all this?"

"Because you're cute," you gush, heart still flip-flopping at his words, at the way the sunlight dances off the curves of his sheepishly smiling cheeks, "and you're always managing to find new ways to steal my heart."

"Me?" His voice is so quiet it's all but a whisper of joy. "You think I'm... Well, I think you're just sweet as this pie here. No, sweeter. Besides finding new ways to steal your heart, might I find new ways to kiss you?"

"Smooth," you tease, shaking your head playfully, gleefully, "you might indeed."

If Pippin is thinking anything you made was sweet, not a single delight you could have whipped up in your kitchen stands a chance against the feeling of his lips on yours, dancing lightly against them in the springtime breeze.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 | Reply/Message/Ask to join 💕

[lxvvie]

I'm sorry but i can't help but think about short d!ck gravess like him being an all proud and egocentric man, but tries to maintain his pride while his girlfriend tells him he's so small that she doesn't even think that little thing can even get her pregnant (at least it gives her some pleasure but still...)

PRETTY PLEASEEEEEE

Not Lil' Dill Phil, anon!

He's a prideful bastard through and through, and best believe a round of orgasm denial is happening when you start mouthing off about his dick (girth over length, okay?!).

And you sure as fuck weren't complaining about it last night either, darlin'.

[neonliminality]

Nick honest to God needs to be investigated by the fbi. But I timestamped a part that made my stomach drop. Dan absolutely knew without a shadow of a doubt knew EVERYTHING that was going on.

Dan Schneider had a very short-lived show called Guys Like Us that lasted only 13 episodes

One of the episodes featured Brian Peck as a clown named Mr. Happy Pants

Dan is the one that ACTUALLY hired Brian Peck because they were FRIENDS

Dan posts THIS picture in 2017. A memento form someone that violently assaulted and abused someone you supposedly care about

OH DAN You can dip my pickle in dill juice any time I owe you!!!

XXOO Love always Pickle Boy Let me be crystal clear. Dan knew who Brian was. Dan was the one that hired him. Dan knew that Brian had a relationship to John Wayne Gacy, and that Brian was obsessed with him to some degree. Dan posts this picture to his Instagram THIRTEEN YEARS after Brian assaults Drake Bell. I don't want to hear anyone saying one single fucking word that even insinuates that Dan Schneider cares about any of these children. I have another theory but I'm genuinely afraid to say it

[queenendless]

SMUGLY

A/n: SHORT 🔞 PIECE. Watching video of Vtuber Shoto simping over Dill from Cat Boys Paradise is basically me dying to go hard on this green eyed bastard. I ❤️ him. Also, @catgirlxox this is for you and our fellow Ben simp gurls~!

Your touch starved, sexually deprived self wants to wipe that smug ass look of his smug ass face. His precious, adorable, beautiful face. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME! And this young man lover of yours is more than willing to fulfill your urges. This cocky, stubborn, showboat that is Ben would be gluttonous for his favorite drink besides smoothies.

"Imma about to bust a nut all over~" Your breathless, heated words made him stand upright and leak like a waterfall. His muffled whines were stuffed from your just as gushing pussy, sucking and slurping like the ever parched man that he truly is. Your unhinged, pitched moans got him writhing beneath you. "Don't ever stop, beloved~ Never stahp~!"

Stroking and clawing at that thick veiny cock of his had him groaning harshly, kneading and clawing at his handful grasp of your phat cheeks smothering his already beet red face, pulling them apart enough to spread your folds farther, angling that skillfull tongue to hit from a new point, all to traverse each inch of you inside. As per usual.

Gorging down that meatstick fully, your neck throbbed as your throat got stuffed, suckling on that head with much gusto. Your hand kept their support on his hip as you went up and down his dong, manhandling his nutsack with gusto. His orgasmic yells reverberated through you as he squirted his thick creaminess for you to chug down. Your own muffled aroused moans around his dick you stroked feverishly came from his tongue hit that special bundle of nerves persistently had you busting down all over his face and neck, drowning him in bliss.

"Fuck, angel~" Benjamin Kirby Tennyson – your beloved Ben – panted out as you finally got off him, sliding him right outta your mouth, letting you both breathe, your cum coating his brusied lips, his eyes hazy with lustful endearment, as your face leaned down to his heaving one, kissing him breathlessly, smirking through it all.

"Whose smug now~?"

[snailqueenforever]

Bill Cipher VS a Dill Pickle

Bill Cipher drifted through the boundless void between dimensions, his singular eye scanning the vast multiverse with a weary disinterest. The thrill of warping reality and twisting minds had begun to dull after countless eons. The chaos that once fueled his existence now seemed monotonous. He craved something new, something so mundane that he could delight in turning it into something bizarre. That’s when he saw it: a small, unassuming deli nestled in the heart of a quiet little town, in a dimension that had somehow evaded his notice until now. The place was quaint, almost laughably ordinary, with a red and white striped awning. "Bob’s Deli" was painted in neat, cheerful letters on the window. The sheer normalcy of it sparked a wicked idea in Bill’s twisted mind.

“This is perfect,” Bill cackled, his voice reverberating through the void like a sinister echo. “Let’s see what happens when chaos comes to lunchtime!”. In a flash of yellow light, Bill zipped through the dimensional rift, materializing in the center of the deli. The bell above the door jingled as if announcing his arrival, though no one seemed to notice the sudden appearance of a floating triangle with an all-seeing eye.

The deli was cozy, with wooden shelves lined with jars of pickles, fresh loaves of bread, and various condiments. The counters displayed platters of meats and cheeses, meticulously arranged by Bob, the middle-aged owner with a kind smile and an apron that bore the marks of years of service. Bill floated lazily over the shelves, his eye zeroing in on the rows of pickle jars. Each one was filled to the brim with crisp, tangy pickles. Their briny liquid catched the overhead lights and gave the display an almost magical sheen. The pickles varied in size and shape. Some tall and slender, others short and stout…but all were carefully labeled, as if they were precious treasures to Bob, rather than mere snacks. As Bill inspected the jars, his eye was drawn to one pickle in particular…a plump, green gherkin that seemed to occupy nearly the entire jar. Its surface was glossy, and it looked as if it were glowing with some inner vitality.

Bill clapped his skinny black hands together. “At last!” he thought to himself. “I’ve found a pickle worthy of my time!”. He hovered closer, his voice dripping with mischief. “Hey there, green guy! You’re looking… fresh. Hows about we have a little chat, you and me?”. The pickle, shiny and briny, remained still in its jar. Its bumpy surface reflected the light of the quant deli, but it offered no response. No sudden burst of life, no sprouting of arms or legs, no squeaky voice acknowledging Bill’s presence. Bill’s eye twitched, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Come on, don’t be shy. I’m Bill Cipher! Dream demon, master of chaos, all that jazz. You’ve probably heard of me, right?”.

But the pickle stayed silent, its green form utterly unresponsive. It was just… a pickle.

Bill floated even closer, scrutinizing the pickle with suspicion. “Okay, maybe you’re one of those strong, silent types. That’s cool. But you’ve got to have something to say. What’s it like being a pickle? Any deep thoughts on life in brine?”. Still, the pickle offered nothing in return. It sat there, looking like every other pickle that had ever existed. It was completely indifferent to the fact that it was being addressed by a reality-bending entity. Bill’s patience, such as it was, began to fray. He circled the jar, tapping it with a spectral finger. “You know, I only come around every one hundred years,” Bill began to lie. “I only ever appear when one of the greatest minds of a generation needs a muse. And YOU, dear former cucumber, are that greatest mind! So, what do ya say? Want me to be your muse?”

But the pickle didn’t so much as twitch.

“Look, you gherkin,” Bill snapped, his frustration boiling over his lie. “I can give you anything! Freedom from the jar, endless adventures, maybe even a spot on a gourmet platter! But you gotta do something in return for me”. The deli carried on with its normal routine, customers coming and going, oblivious to the cosmic drama unfolding in their midst. Bill, however, was fixated on the silent pickle, refusing to let it win whatever strange game this was. He tried everything, such as snapping his fingers to animate it, making exaggerated gestures…he even offered bribes of fame and fortune. But the pickle remained stubbornly non-verbal.

Finally, Bill sighed, floating back in reluctant defeat. “Alright, fine. Be that way. You might just be the most stubborn pickle I’ve ever met.” He paused, then added with a grudging hint of respect, “That’s kind of impressive”. With that, Bill turned away, leaving the pickle to its jar. As he floated off to find some other form of amusement, he couldn’t resist glancing back one last time, half-expecting the pickle to spring to life. But it didn’t.

Bill looked down at the deli’s linoleum floor, defeated. “It’s moments like these where I miss Sixer most of all” he sighed to himself. And with a final, echoing snap of the fingers, Bill zipped off into the chaos, leaving behind a simple, unassuming cucumber preserved in brine…completely impervious to the madness that was Bill Cipher.

[meowzfordayz]

THIRST TIME WITH V pt2

(Note: I love people that self ship and you’ve inspired this. I also don’t know if you prefer Modern AU or Canon Time-Line so we will do both. I will also be assuming that you or your followers are an anime only bunch so you won’t have to worry about spoilers. Thank you for indulging me so much!)

Sanemi Shinazugawa Headcanons

This man is so THOUGHTFUL! Random (and i mean you will never see them coming) acts of servitude, gifts, and he will NEVER forget a date that is important to you. If he ever did he’d kill himself with guilt. Everyone close to him can see how half of his attitude is faked for his comfort, but only you get to see how thick of a mask that attitude really is. 

He vastly underestimates how capable you are, even after falling in love. This is frustrating and becomes the biggest catalyst to most of your fights. 

You’ve asked to put creams on his scars before and he was quick to refuse. He doesn't need them fading. Doesn't want the reminders of his weakness to ever leave the forefront of his mind. He’s afraid that if he gives into something so mundanely intimate he will become too soft, too comfortable in a quiet existence, to protect you when you most need it.

Late Night rooftop conversations that get so deep and personal you wonder if it’s even the same Hashira you are talking to by the end of it.

You’ve dressed up his crow once or twice and when he found out he got very huffy. You don’t do it anymore out of respect but he secretly wishes you would. He loves to hear the sounds you make when you coo over something you find adorable. 

After you two had officially gotten together (although you were unofficially dedicated to one another for a while due to his lack in range of communication and emotional vulnerability) he talked you into letting him take you somewhere. He was very cryptic about it all, but it was Sanemi your Nemi, you knew you would be safe. Long and sappy story short: It was a special spot high above the coast line where you could watch the sunrise together. He told you he often came here when he was feeling lonely and found that the first morning light reminded him of you.

Modern au

He legit had a heart attack when you first moved in together. You had spent the night in one another’s beds before but this was a brand new experience for him. He would never be more intimate with another being. You were it.

Grumbles incessantly when you invite friends over and hides himself in your shared room. He has no interest in being cordial or getting to know the people you hang out with. He will even do this occasionally when mutual friends like Shinobu.

You sleep with separate blankets now because of how much of a bed hog he can be. He complained about your blanket thievery ONCE and that was all it took for you to come back about how he’s a starfish and maybe the two of you should sleep in separate beds because of how uncomfortable it makes you. Needless to say, he does his best to not “starfish” anymore, but unfortunately he does toss and turn due to his regular night terrors. This is fine by you.

As if he wasn’t a neat freak already… Every few weeks he gets into a weird cleaning mood where he almost turns into a drill sargent with how he involuntarily enlists you into deeply sanitizing your shared living space. He’s given no explanation for this; the house is already clean by most people's standards.

Doesn't like the smell of american sweet or dill pickles.

I know you said that you would push the cart at the grocery, but honestly I think you would come home to find everything already purchased on the regular. Shopping with him is a treat. He says it’s because you push the cart too slow, but honestly it’s because he has the meals already planned out and you like to deviate from his list a little too liberally. You’ll see something and decide that’s what you want for dinner with no regard to your health and he will almost immediately give in to you. He’s tried playing the mean boyfriend and telling you no, but every time you give him those doe eyes… SO he doesn't go shopping with you anymore, for your own good. 

Morning Voice. That’s all I got. You can use your imagination. 

Hii V. ☺️ Your headcanons are AMAZING 😍, but not exactly a writing prompt/thirst (?), so Imma just answer w/ my reactions (unless you hoped I would write something inspired by these headcanons ?? 😅 in that case, just lmk !!).

P.S. Nvm. I wrote a lil drabble: "morning voice". 😏 CW: 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader

Love me a thoughtful man, and Sanemi's def more observant and sweet than meets the eye. 🥺

I LOVE THIS HC SO MUCH !!!!! 😖 Could absolutely see myself getting frustrated/upset due to his lack of trust (at least, that's what constantly being underestimated would eventually feel like to me), but I'm sure we'd slowly and surely communicate through it. 🙃

This made me EMOTIONAL. 😔

Idk whether this was intentional or not, but it reminded me of from dusk till dawn. 🌌

Lololol I generally don't enjoy dressing up animals, BUT this hc is so CUTE. 🤗

"and found that the first morning light reminded him of you" HELLOOO?!?!?! 😭😭😭💘

That first night feeling. 🥺🥰

Lol poor Shinobu (albeit she prob prefers it that way 😂). #grumpy guy

I am both Sanemi and Reader (bed hog AND blanket hog). 🤪 Night terrors detail reminded me of through thick and thin. 😔

I AM A NEAT FREAK. 😤 Ppl would be "scared" to visit us bc we're so high maintenance lmao.

Idk what American sweet is, but I don't like pickles either. 😆

THIS ONE. THIS ONE !!!!! 😌 Man knows me to a T. 😃 I'm a literal child when grocery shopping (altho my self control actually isn't too bad).

"Sanemi," you murmur, a drowsy, welcoming noise to his pink, sunlit ears, "Saaanemi."

A muffled grumble is his only response, a heavy arm slinging over the dip of your side as you giggle quietly.

"Baaabe," you coo, happily snuggling into the comfort of his chest, wispy hairs caressing your cheek as you peer contentedly up at his stubbornly closed eyes, "It's almost noon."

Another grunt prompts louder giggling from you, playful breaths hitching when a calloused, decisive hand slips between your thighs, fingernails digging pointedly into your plush skin.

"Sanemi?" you squeal, legs pressing together, trapping his palm against the heat of your core, "Are you sleepy or horny?"

Your question comes out teasingly, clit tingling from the pressure and weight of his hand, a feathery whimper coaxed from your throat when he pulls at the cotton of your panties.

"What do you think?"

His voice is low and gravelly, a worn and porous pebble turning over and over and over again, gently tossed and glistening by the sea.

"Hm," you grin, feigning ignorance as he tugs at your panties, head disappearing under the covers as he follows them from your hips to your ankles, "Sleepy?"

Head emerging from his endeavor, Sanemi rolls his now opened eyes, lips ghosting across your face before settling on your mouth, kissing with firm, languid tenderness.

"You're stupid," he rasps, fingers dipping once more between your thighs, this time stroking your folds, swallowing hard at their sticky warmth, "Would I be seducing you if I was sleepy?"

Smirking, you willingly spread your legs, airy and baited as you muse, "Who says I'm being seduced?"

With a displeased growl, he lightly pinches your folds, gaze sharpening promisingly at the faint sound of slick squishing, tongue licking along your jaw as you whine softly.

"Your pussy certainly does," he remarks, blowing on the subtle, shiny trail of his ministrations as he continues licking down your neck, “And your tits.”

He punctuates his statement with a quick flick to your nipple, one thumb circling your clit with practiced ease while the other fondles your breast.

“And you?” you ask, breathless and putty in his embrace, back arching into his touch as your ass grinds backward into his groin, “Are you being seduced?”

Silently, he grabs your wrist, guiding your palm to his crotch, erection straining as your fingertips brush across the tip of his cock, precum leaking through the thin fabric of his briefs.

“Frankly,” he mutters, nearly choking when your hand wanders lower to carefully squeeze his balls, sliding a thick, warning finger into your fluttering cunt, moaning in tandem at the fullness, “I can’t wait to fuck you.”