#now keep in mind this was not written with the intent of making anyone feel guilty

[slutforln4]

TWO PRIZES

🖇️ lando norris x f1 journalist!reader

🖇️ in which you realise lando wasn’t just the driver you interviewed

🖇️ warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol

🖇️ author’s note: the bits in italic are her memories :)

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Excitement pulsed through your veins at the mere sound of engines roaring.

The amount of people trying to push past you made you anxious, but you knew it was all part of the experience. Everyone was bunching up to watch one of the greatest events of all time— the Monaco GrandPrix.

Once you make it through the crowd, avoiding elbows and shoulders of people much taller and energetic than you, the entrance that you need comes into view.

You weren’t just excited for the interviews you were going to watch up close, but also the entire concept of the race. The hustle of engineers in all these garages, working their hardest to get the drivers in and out of the pits with minimal time to waste. Not to mention the drivers themselves, having to sit in the cars for multiple hours over the race weekend with no complaints— they chose to do this, they deal with the consequences.

That’s exactly what excited you. The reasoning for their choice to do this, you wanted to ask each and every one of them why they wanted to do this, what was so interesting?

You guessed their answer would be the same as yours if you were asked why you became a sports journalist.

Keeping your amazement at bay, you observed the race, focused on everything going on even though it was a lot to keep up with. But that’s exactly what you were there for.

You were sitting in the grandstands, intently watching the cars fly past you, when your phone rang. The caller ID said it was your coworker who had also been at the race but disappeared about ten minutes ago.

“Hello?”

She sounded distressed when you heard her voice. “Hey, love. I was wondering if you could take over the post-race interviews?”

Today was supposed to be a sort of intern day for you, meaning you were just going to watch your colleague interview the drivers and better understand what the etiquette is for it. You hadn’t expected to have your first interview today.

“Uh, why?” You asked, in a whisper. “You know I’ve never interviewed anyone before, right?”

“So?” She seemed much more confident in you than you were in yourself. “You’ve studied journalism for a few years now, yeah? I don’t think you’d have taken an internship at SkySports for nothing.”

“I mean, I guess?” You shrug. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to speak to actual drivers, though. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t if you remember that they’re just people doing their jobs, and you’re doing your job by asking them questions.” She makes a good point and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Send over the information you’ve written.”

“Sorry.” You hear her slightly laugh. “You gotta fend for yourself with that one, hun. It’s a cruel world we live in. Cheers.”

With that, the call ended and you were left with nothing but anxiety weighing on your shoulders. The rest of the race seemed to fly by in mere minutes, your mind too focused on the pressure of your first ever interview.

Well, not first ever.

You imagined the day would come sooner or later, so you’d practise a conversation with one of the drivers by speaking to yourself in the mirror. That, and watching multiple interviews through the years, soaking up every bit of information you could about the process of it.

Before you knew it, you were standing in a sea of people with their cameras, waiting for the drivers to make their way to you.

It wasn’t that nerve wracking when you actually started talking to them, and by the time you got to Daniel, you had lost all feelings of anxiety, instead laughing along to his jokes.

You thought so, at least. A feeling of intimidation crawled up your spine when your eyes locked with Lando Norris, a driver for Mclaren. You noticed the piercing look from across the room as he spoke to a different interviewer, his green pupils tracking your every move as you spoke to Oscar.

The interview with Oscar wraps up and he begins turning away from you. “Good luck on your next race!”

Oscar smiled at you as he walked off to somewhere you could only guess.

If you had been anxious before, you were probably five times as anxious now, because Oscar Piastri leaving the spot in front of you meant that Lando Norris would be replacing him. And, for whatever reason, he was making you incredibly nervous.

You looked down at the ground as Lando approached you, waiting to hear what you had to say. You couldn’t bear looking up at him, knowing he’s already staring at you. But it was part of your job and you had to stay professional.

“Hello, Lando.” You said, cheerily.

“Hi,” he grinned at you, sweaty and all, his dimples appearing for a split second. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, thanks, how was the race?” You asked with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when he smiled at you again.

Lando’s green eyes studied your face, soaking up each detail he missed since the last time he had seen you. He knows you don’t remember him and he doesn’t need you to, it’s kind of nice to feel something without reciprocation from the other.

After a long while, Lando shrugged. “Yeah, uh, the race was pretty good, I mean, I got first place, so I’d say it’s good. Y’know, aside from Oscar’s incident, but that’s not something we can predict, it just happens.”

You watched intently as he explained the race, your eyes oddly drawn to his lips. The pattern at which they move, and the tempting way he pokes his tongue out to tap the corners of his lips, makes you weak.

This was horribly unprofessional of you, and you knew that, but the charms of this young british racer had worked their magic on you, and you weren’t strong enough to resist it.

You felt like it was just the two of you in the room and both of you were trying your damn best not to break, one for more reasons than the other.

“Yeah, it seems like it was a lucky race for you, the pace of your car was incredible to watch.” You pointed out, looking down at the race data on your clipboard. “The RedBull’s were a bit slower this race, do you think that gave you an advantage?”

“Well, they already win races left, right and centre. They have to be bad sometimes.” Lando stifled a laugh. “But, uh, I don’t know. I think it all came down to the car and my ability to control it. The pace was insane, honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be faster than a RedBull.”

The joke made you giggle and you quickly hid your face by looking away for a mere moment, in an attempt to recollect yourself. Thankfully, none of the cameras were on your face.

“Or it’s just pure talent, I’d say.” You look back up at him, his eyes never once leaving your face. He’s so smiley and it’s contagious, so you can’t help but smile at him, too. “Any plans for the celebration? You must be feeling ecstatic about your first win, so I assume the celebration must be as big as this.”

Lando puts the tube of his water bottle to his lips and takes a long sip, eyes still glued to you. He wasn’t even blinking, far too focused on the shape of your lips and how good they felt that night. That one night you can’t seem to remember.

“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest.” He shrugs, tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, biting back the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. “I still have to call my mum and siblings.”

“I’m sure they’re incredibly proud of you,” you smile, politely. He’s still intently looking at you, cheeks now burning red at your comment accompanied by his massive grin.

It was time to wrap up your chat with Lando, but, in all honesty, you really didn’t want to. You felt something brewing in your chest at the mere feeling of his eyes burning into you, and it excited you.

Still, you ignore it. You had to stay professional, even if it was all too much to handle. “It was lovely chatting with you, Lando. Congratulations and good luck next race.”

“Will you be interviewing me next time, too?” Lando asks, making no move to walk away just yet. His eyes narrowed onto yours when you looked back at him, an adorably surprised look on your face.

“Uh,” you look away for a moment, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I look forward to seeing you again. Maybe.” He gave you another cocky smirk and nodded his head as a farewell, leaving you nothing but a blushing mess in the media pen.

After a plethora of interviews back to back, you were tired beyond words. Your feet were sore, your back hurt, you felt your eyelids close if you stood still for longer than two seconds. The image of your soft hotel bed made you motivated to keep moving through the building and find your way out.

“Oh, hey!” A familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “Y/N, was it?”

Your eyes find their way to the person behind you and you’re happy to see that it’s Daniel. “Daniel! Hi, nice to see you again.” You extended a hand to shake and he smiled as he squeezed it.

“Was lovely talking to you earlier. You asked such great questions, honestly, it made me really think about my answers, y’know?” You hadn’t noticed how both of you started walking again and he kept up with your pace. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, interviewing?” You ask and he nods eagerly, with the energy of a little boy.“This was my first official day of interviewing, actually. I had to step in for my colleague.”

“No way.” He muses, jaw slack and eyes glimmering with interest. “The way you interacted with me had me thinking you were carrying a load of experience.”

You stifle a laugh and watch the path ahead. “Yeah, well. I practised a lot in my room. You have race sims, I have a mirror and a hairbrush for a microphone.”

Daniel’s laugh echoed in the mostly empty area around you. “You’re funny, too.” He muses once again, shocked by how much fun you can be. “Listen, I know it’s not professional to ask this, but are you free tonight?”

“Oh, uh,” you look up at him and hesitate. “I’m not interested in-“

“No, no,” Daniel waves his hands in the air as if to stop the words spilling from your mouth. “God, no. I was going to ask if you’d like to come to the club later, all of the drivers are gonna be there to celebrate Lando’s win. It could be fun.”

You paused in your steps, brows furrowing as you felt a beam of energy climb up your spine. All of a sudden, your bed didn’t seem like the comfiest thing in the world and you were willing to exchange it for a pair of heels and a dress.

“I’d like that, yeah.” You smiled at Daniel and he reciprocated the gesture.

He gives you a card with his number on it and you gladly pluck it from his fingers. “Shoot me a text when you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride to the club. Cheers.”

And with that, he disappeared into the car park, the only remainder of his friendly presence being his lingering smell in the air and the scribbled number on the back of a grocery store coupon.

“Thanks, mate.”

Lando’s hand felt heavy as he shook it with someone he barely knew, congratulating him on the win. He’s been stuck in this large group of people for way too long, desperately looking for an escape. And, eventually, he found it— you.

His eyes have been stuck to you for the past fifteen minutes, patiently waiting for the people to finish congratulating him so he could finally talk to you.

When the perfect moment arose, Lando swiftly shimmied between the dancing bodies and made his way to the bar. You were still sitting there, looking as beautiful as the last time he saw you, but now you were right in front of him and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Lando’s voice startles you when he plops down in a bar stool beside you.

You smile at him, feeling the same anxiety crawl up your spine as the last time you saw him. “I’d say the same, but this feels like the perfect place for a race winner.”

“I honestly hated it before,” he shrugged, looking out into the crowd. “I used to party after a podium, second place being the best I’ve ever had.”

“But now you’re here as a winner.” You’re still looking at him when he turns back around. There’s something so nostalgic about the way he looks at you, almost as if you’ve already been there and seen him before. “Victory looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” He flashes a grin your way, raising a brow. “I’ll try to win more then. Maybe I’ll get to see you again that way.”

“I’m free whenever you want to see me,” you blurt. Lando’s eyebrows raise with surprise when you say that and he bursts into a small laugh when you start flailing your hands around in the air. “Sorry, that’s so unprofessional, I didn’t mean to–“

“It’s fine,” he assures you. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to get out of here. But that’s so unprofessional of me.”

“Mr. Norris!” You exclaim with a faux gasp. Lando watches with an amused grin on his face as you smile back at him. “I’d like that very much.”

It didn’t take long for both of you to swivel your way past the drunk people in the club and find yourselves in a cab. Lando’s hand made a home on your thigh and you didn’t mind. It felt warm, secure and turned you on when he inched it closer to the hem of your dress.

Time flew fast in the company of a race winner, especially one as charming and attractive as Lando. You didn’t realise how many hours had passed after you had left the club and, frankly, you didn’t really care.

The moments spent with him felt somehow nostalgic, as if you had felt this way before. But you’re sure you just dreamt it. There’s no way you’ve met Lando before and didn’t remember it.

It felt silly to think that, so you just ignored that thought and continued watching the intoxicating way his lips moved as he spoke. He’s been talking about something for the past five minutes and you didn’t hear a word of it, being far too focused on the pattern of his freckles, the dip of his nose and the gentleness of his eyes when he looked at you.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, voice gentle and cautious.

You bit back a smile, eyes flickering between his eyes and lips. “You.”

The nostalgic feeling snuck its way into the back of your mind when he kissed you, his lips and hands feeling like a long lost home. You somehow already knew the melody of his breathing and the pattern of his hair, the familiarity of his kiss starting a fire in your chest. You felt the warmth of his lust spread through your torso, creeping up your neck, softly toying with the giggle in your throat.

Stars spackled on the inside of your eyelids and the harmonious sounds leaving your lips finally drew you back to that night.

Warm hands. Gentle strokes and soft kisses. Careful fingertips trailing their way down your hips. Lando’s tongue danced on your aching bud and you felt the whole world fade away. The mere touch of his fingers on your hips to keep you still reminded you of the last time.

“Mmh, fuck.” Lando hummed against you, the vibrations sending bolts of lightning through your veins. “So good. So fucking good for me, y/n.”

His tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge. The alcohol in your system mixed with the pleasure coursing through your body was a lethal combination. Your legs shook as you felt your walls close around nothing, Lando’s mouth attached to you as if he was a starved man and you were the first thing he could get his mouth on.

“I’m- I-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before making a mess all over his goatee. He licked up every last bit of you, the sweet taste of you making a perfect combination with the aftertaste of whiskey in the back of his throat.

You stayed lying there, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, deep breaths inflating your chest. Lando watched you, green eyes soaking in every inch of you— he wasn’t sure if you’d remember him this time, so he made the most of every moment spent with you.

After a while of him watching you, you felt Lando get up and come back in a few minutes, a damp towel in his hands. He touched your most sensitive parts with the weight of nothing, carefulness sewn into every movement he made. At that point, you were drifting in and out of consciousness, not fully knowing when the bed dipped under Lando’s weight again.

You felt his arms wrap around you and pull you in, the warmth of his bare skin heating your cheek. You were hesitant to speak, cautious as to not say something wrong. So, instead of speaking, you lifted your head and connected your lips with his again, the minty taste of his lips making you smile.

“It’s you.”

Lando hummed into the kiss, as if to acknowledge that it was him, but also to ask what you meant.

You pulled away, fingers immediately making home in his curls. “That night.” A familiar look painted itself across Lando’s face. “I tried so hard to remember whose lips felt like home, and only the weight of yours reminded me.”

“You were thinking about me?” Lando inquired, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

You nodded. “Every day since that night.”

Lando smiled before kissing you again. “You never left my mind. I kept reminiscing that night, waiting for fate to magically bring us back to one another.” He whispered against your hairline, lips pressing soft, love-filled kisses against your skin. “Didn’t expect to win two prizes in one day.”

A small laugh slipped past your lips. “What a lucky man you are, Mr. Norris.”

“The luckiest.” He hummed. “Because I finally have you.”

[yandere-romanticaa]

Recently, the surge of AI has caught everyone's attention and I've been working on this little experiment.

Down below the cut are two fics and this is how I planned it - one was made up by using AI (more specifically, Chat Gpt) while the other one was written by yours truly. Below both fics will be a poll and I would like for you, my dear readers, to guess which one was AI. Personally, I don't think it'll be a difficult challenge but seeing your reactions and comments on this should prove to be an interesting endeavor.

This was posted on April 17th. And, in 7 days, I shall reveal which fic was written by me, and which one was done by AI.

Now then, let's get on with the show.

🥀 Story One.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Yokohama, Fyodor Dostoevsky stalks his obsession, (y/n), with unwavering determination. His fixation transcends reason, driving him to extreme lengths to possess (y/n)'s affection.

Fyodor's obsession with (y/n) began innocently enough, a mere curiosity sparked by their untapped potential and innocence. But as time passed, that curiosity twisted into an all-consuming desire, festering within Fyodor's mind like a venomous serpent.

Each night, Fyodor would follow (y/n) from a distance, his heart pounding with anticipation and longing. He would watch as (y/n) laughed with their friends, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

But Fyodor's love was not the gentle, nurturing kind. It was possessive, suffocating, and dangerously obsessive. He couldn't bear the thought of (y/n) belonging to anyone but him, couldn't stand the idea of anyone else basking in the warmth of (y/n)'s smile.

As his obsession deepened, Fyodor's mind became consumed with dark fantasies of possessing (y/n) completely. He would spend hours meticulously planning every detail of their future together, envisioning a life where they were inseparable.

But fantasies were not enough for Fyodor. He needed to make them a reality, no matter the cost. And so, he began to weave a web of deception and manipulation, carefully orchestrating events to bring (y/n) closer to him and drive away anyone who dared to stand in their way.

But as Fyodor's plans grew more elaborate, so too did the danger. (y/n)'s friends grew suspicious of Fyodor's intentions, sensing something sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. And as they delved deeper into Fyodor's past, they uncovered secrets that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed world.

But Fyodor was not about to let anyone come between him and his beloved. He would do whatever it took to protect their love, even if it meant resorting to violence.

🥀 Story Two.

Shimmering waves of starlight engulfed the man in white as he monitored his target from a safe distance, hollow purple eyes gleaming with excitement. He could feel his long fingers twitching with anticipation in his warm pockets, a stark contrast to the chilly wind on this fine spring evening.

He needed to be patient. Because patience was indeed, a virtue.

And Fyodor was a virtuous man. Perhaps not a good one, but he would gladly take the title of virtue.

Would you bestow upon him such a title? Would you do so, if you ever found out that he had taken such a keen interest in you? The rational part in his mind said no, of course not. Unlike him, you were blessed with normalcy. There was nothing extraordinary about you - no ability, no wealth, no status.

Nothing.

You could have been squished like a bug beneath his heel and the world would just keep on going as it always would. Sure, there would be some individuals who would miss you dearly but even they would move on at some point.

Such was the nature of humanity. How cruel, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for you, Fyodor was no ordinary man. Despite his predicament, he had grown fond of you. He was not sure why but after a while, he stopped asking such trifling questions as to why he troubled himself by giving you so much attention.

It was pointless to make sense of the senseless.

Right here, right now, all he wanted was to enjoy this quiet evening by his lonesome, as he tailed behind you like a creeping shadow. He would reveal himself to you properly when the time was right, when he felt you were strong enough to take him.

Fyodor just needed to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to see how he should proceed with you in case things went south.

In the meantime, he would gladly spend every waking moment simply watching you for his own personal pleasure.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osachiyo, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut, @wcayaw, @luna-mariko-akatsuki, @lovelyyz, @queenofspades403

APRIL 24TH - Story One is AI.

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 25/∞

VIOLENCE AS COURTSHIP IS A PART OF DEMON CULTURE

Rating: CANON

A nearly universal trope, especially in Moshang fics, is the fact that courtship is performed through violence in demon culture, and that the misunderstandings between the pair are because of cultural differences. The fact that demons mistreat the targets of their affection is canon, however, it is important for fans to note that this sort of characterization and worldbuilding is rooted in racial and ethnic stereotypes.

This is one of the most-requested topics I've ever written on this blog, and I took a long time to think about how best to approach the subject in a way that both keeps to the intention of this blog (referencing canon & providing quotes) as well as raising awareness to the very real problematic aspects of what is a well-loved and often-used trope in fanon that I don't think most western fans are aware of.

First, the canon analysis:

“If you hold unique feelings for a certain person, how can you make them understand your intentions?” Luo Binghe asked. Obviously, no one dared to tear down Luo Binghe’s facade and expose him directly, but this question was really very…unsuited to the demonic approach. After a long moment, not a single person had answered. In fact, the answer was so simple that any normal human could have given it to you. If you liked someone, you should just tell them. Unfortunately, there was not a single “normal” person on the scene—and aside from Shang Qinghua, there also were no “humans” either. Mobei-Jun thought about it. With the paths his mind was given to take, there was no telling how he had interpreted “unique” feelings. “Beat them up three times a day?” (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Most of the fandom remembers this passage, and some may think that this is where the interpretation of violence as courtship comes from-- however, that is not the case. This passage might actually not refer to courtship at all-- while that is one possible interpretation, Mobei-jun could also be interpreting "unique feelings" to mean something different than "romantic feelings," since Luo Binghe didn't specify romance directly.

The "violent demonic courtship" idea actually originates much earlier in the novel, just after the invasion of Qiong Ding Peak:

In truth, Shen Qingqiu didn’t intend to tease; he thought himself very straightforward. The one who’d tampered with Luo Binghe’s dream realm was Sha Hualing. Though she did have some harmful intentions, her underlying motive was obvious. Naturally, she was driven by a young girl’s secret yearning for love. Otherwise, she would have directed her aggressions toward others, not specifically Luo Binghe. Demons were compelled to viciously bully the person they liked. Only if the object of their affections failed to die would the demon accept them. If their target died, that meant they were useless and not worth nursing any lingering affections for. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

This, in fact, has somewhat more serious connotations than the way I have often seen it interpreted in fanworks-- it is not merely beating up a potential partner, but pushing them to their limits, nearly driving them to death, and it is certainly implied that it is not uncommon for the object of a demon's affections to actually die.

Now that the canonical basis of the idea has been established, let us move on to the second, and arguably more important part of this post: the racism.

I would like to add a disclaimer here-- I am going to discuss this in hopes of raising more awareness in the fandom, but I am not North/West/Central Asian myself, so I will only mention things in brief and somewhat generally-- if anyone who belongs to the affected cultures would like to make corrections, or more detailed explanations, or any other additions to this post on this topic, I greatly welcome that, as I feel it is an important issue that should be addressed.

In Chinese fiction, particularly fantasy genres like xianxia/xuanhuan/xiuzhen, but also in historical and wuxia fiction, there is a pervasive, prevalent tendency for authors to use racial and ethnic stereotypes against Central, Northern, and Western Asian cultures such as Mongolian & Arab cultures in their worldbuilding regarding the North, while stereotypes against Southeast Asian cultures are used in worldbuilding regarding the South. These stereotypes are most typically applied to villains and villainous groups, and are so widespread as to be ubiquitous within the genre. MXTX has used these tropes before-- notably with the Banyue people in TGCF, with adaptations of both TGCF and MDZS including design stereotypes, such as CQL's portrayal of the Qinghe Nie (combining their tendency toward violence and 'unnatural' cultivation method, with design traits typically associated with Northern/Central Asian cultures).

It is worth noting, though, that most authors do not intentionally use these traits as racist stereotypes in their worldbuilding, especially when regarding a non-human species-- in the same way that western fantasy authors use goblin and orc characters and tropes without realizing or acknowledging their racist origins and connotiations, these stereotypes have simply become genre tropes without that direct connection to their origins. Nonetheless, it is still worth noting-- and worth trying not to fall into the trap of leaning into stereotypical traits in fanworks' character portrayals.

Stereotypes include but are not limited to barbaric and brutish cultural traits, association with animals/having animal features, dark or corrupt magical/spiritual practices, certain types of braided hairstyles & other fashion choices, and originating from the far north or south.

Some of the prejudice and stereotyping of Northern Asian cultures likely originates from the fact that in the past, China was invaded and subjugated by peoples from the north (under Mongolian rule during the Yuan dynasty, and under Manchurian rule during the Qing dynasty) as well as having many conflicts with these peoples throughout history. In fact, the Qing dynasty only ended in the early 1900s, so some of this oppression is still in recent memory-- nonetheless, people belonging to ethnic minorities in China are still affected by this negative stereotyping today, so regardless of the origin, racism is still racism and should be addressed, and China today is a majority Han Chinese nation-- even if Han Chinese are considered a minority and affected by systemic racism in other places in the world.

Additionally, many tropes specifically applied to the southern demons, but also used for demon culture as a whole, are tied to stereotypical portrayals of Southeast Asian culture, which is rooted in a long history of Imperial China's invasion and oppression.

All of those stereotypes listed above apply to SVSSS' demon culture. Even in Mobei-jun's name-- 漠北 meaning "northern desert," which is the real-world name for a region in the north of the Gobi desert in Mongolia.

Therefore, it is important to remember that though violence-as-courtship in demon culture is canonical within SVSSS' setting, it nonetheless originates from harmful racial and ethnic stereotypes. It would be a good idea for fans to keep this in mind when creating their fanworks, and to treat the topic with sensitivity-- but I will leave any direct suggestions on how to handle this to those who are actually part of the affected groups.

--

(thanks to @flidgetjerome for additional notes regarding SEAsian stereotyping and author intent!)

Also, to be absolutely clear: I am not saying that svsss’ demons are specifically coded as any real ethnic group— it’s only that in many ways the portrayal is similar to the common portrayal of various ethnic groups in cmedia. I don’t believe they are specifically meant to parallel a real life group, unlike for example TGCF’s Banyue— but it’s worth questioning why these traits, why these characters.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Jealousy Headcanons with Natasha Romanoff

A/N: I think these are the least toxic jealous headcanons I’ve written so far. Natasha just seems too self-aware for that, idk. Also, Natasha and Reader’s thing is sun-related nicknames and stuff. It’ll probably be a common theme among fics or stories for her just coz I like it so much

Dividers by @/whimsicalrogers

CW: denial of feelings, mild anger, distance, acceptance of feelings, this is kinda fluffy ngl, reconn/mild monitoring/very light stalking, confrontation, confession of feelings, slight possessiveness, maybe ooc Natasha?

Natasha Romanoff being jealous would include…

Denial

At first she’d deny it

She didn’t have feelings

She wasn’t jealous

She was just… angry

About you

Whenever you flirted with someone else

It was pure coincidence

Distance

Natasha starts to get distant

Not cold, just distant

Your hangouts and movie watching nights become stilted

Awkward

But she attends anyway

You’re the one good thing making your mark on her life

And she’ll be damned if she throws away your friendship

So she gets distant

But not cold

Acceptance

Eventually she’s self-aware enough to accept it

You’re her reason to keep going

Her sunlight through the clouds

And she misses your attention

Misses the way you’d flirt with her so casually

Back before she had the mind to flirt back

But she knows better now

Reconn

So she does reconn

She watches you

Monitors your behavior around others compared to her

Your speaking patterns

Nervous tics

Everything

It all leads back to either her or them

And she wants it to be her

Confrontation

Natasha is one of the few that actually confronts you about it

She’s blunt about it

Direct with her intentions

She wants to date you

To be sappy with you

Soft with you

She wants your sunshine in her life

And when you admit you want her too?

When you confess your reasons for flirting with another?

Well, she decides to make damn sure you never have to flirt with anyone else ever again

You’re her sunshine now

[dixons-sunshine]

Unholy | Vamp!Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: While on a run for some supplies, you and Daryl stumbled across some of his old “friends”. Something happened that struck up an old hunger in the archer. However, with the strict “no feeding on humans” rule that Deanna enforced on Daryl, that hunger wouldn't get satiated. Well, not without your help, at least.

Genre: Smut.

Era: Early Alexandria.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death, dry humping, ejaculation (male).

Word count: 5.5k.

A/n: Um, so this got way longer than I had originally planned lol. Whoops. Anyways, this was written for two of the loveliest people I have the pleasure of knowing. @darylssunshine and @lazyneonrabbitt. I hope I did your ideas justice. (Although I feel like I failed because the plot is all over the place.) Also, before anyone comes at me for the way I wrote Daryl as a vampire, I know the lore isn't factual. I just wanted to create a version of him that resonated with me, y'know? Anyways, apart from that, I hope y'all enjoy!

“Christ, woman. Ya gotta be more careful. One wrong slip and yer tumblin' down, and somethin' tells me the landin' ain't gon' be soft.”

You chuckled as Daryl tightly wrapped his arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the platform that you had been attempting to hoist yourself onto only a mere five seconds prior. The platform wasn't that high and the climb wasn't that difficult, but your partner was being extremely overprotective that day. Well, you guess you couldn't blame him. You had just been given the go-ahead to go on runs again by the community doctor, so his overprotectiveness came from a place of good intentions.

“Careful, Dixon. It's starting to sound like you actually care about little old me,” you replied, a playful edge to your voice. You extended a hand and helped hoist Daryl onto the platform. You knew your help wasn't needed, but your partner would never make that known to you.

Daryl straightened his vest and rolled his eyes at your playful comment. “Nah, I dun' care.” He walked off and allowed himself a small smile at the sound of your hurried footsteps to keep up with his speed. “M'only keepin' ya 'round 'cause ya make a mean deer stew. If it weren't fer tha', I would'a gotten rid'a ya a while ago.”

You scoffed and hit the archer on his chest, before bringing your hand to rest over your heart in mock-offense. “How dare you?” you started in a dramatic, over the top fashion. “I'll have you know that I have a million different qualities for people to want to keep me around. I can't think of specific examples right now, but I'm sure I have other qualities.”

Daryl chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, placing a tender kiss to the side of your head. “Yeah, ya do. I was jus' playin'.” He pulled back and took your hand in his, allowing you to intertwine your fingers together. “And I can think'a specific examples. For one, yer incredibly smart. Yer loyal, a good friend, and ya—”

Daryl suddenly cut himself off, making you frown. The archer pulled his hand away from yours as he took a few steps forward, his eyes darting all over the place. His head was slightly cocked to one side, a clear sign that he was trying to hear something, something that you couldn't. His body was visibly tensed up, and his entire defensive demeanour had you on edge.

“Daryl, what's wro—”

You never got to finish your question, because in a matter of milliseconds, Daryl was rushing towards you and wrapping his arms around you, before throwing the both of you over the edge of the platform you were on. Your mind could hardly comprehend what was happening, so no screams or anything escaped you. Before you knew it, the two of you landed on the ground, with Daryl laying flat on his back and you on top of him. The archer had clearly situated himself in a way so that he would take most of the damage the fall caused. Before you could even begin to comprehend what had happened and ask him why the hell he did what he did, an array of gunshots echoed through the air, the bullets ricocheting off of the metal on the platform you and Daryl had stood on a few seconds ago. As quickly as the bullets started flying all over the place, just as quickly, they stopped. In their place, all that could be heard were the bloodcurdling screams of the perpetrators.

Your heart was attempting to pound out of your chest. The screams were dying out one by one, and you could only assume that the walkers had gotten to the people who had shot those guns. The feeling of Daryl's hands gently yet firmly lifting you off of him snapped you out of your thoughts. “Daryl, wha—”

“No time.” In one, swift movement, Daryl was on his feet and he had tugged you up as well. He grabbed your hand and started pulling you behind him, clearly in a rush to escape the building. “We gotta go. They can't see ya. They're gon' kill ya. I can't let that happen.”

“The walkers?” When Daryl didn't respond, you harshly yanked your hand out of his grip. The pain spread through your body at the movement, but you couldn't think of that. The archer spun around to face you, his eyes showing how panicked he was, something extremely rare to see. The panic in his eyes stirred up a sense of dread in you. “Dar—”

A few whistles echoed through the room, effectively startling you. Daryl cursed under his breath and hurried to stand in front of you, shielding you from whatever danger lurked in the shadows. Your heart sped up considerably, the fear in you spiking through the roof. Daryl clearly sensed it, and apparently, so did the danger in the shadows.

“Aah, yes,” a deep voice ominously snarled from the shadows. “She smells fucking good.”

“So good,” another voice chipped in. “She'll make a nice addition to our feast tonight.”

“We're adding her to the rain?”

“Hell yeah. Everyone should have a taste. We're not selfish, Stevie.”

“Holy shit,” another voice chipped in, this one much higher and more feminine. “Boys, look at that. Are you seeing what I'm seeing?”

“We sure are, Janine,” the first voice agreed. “It's Daryl motherfucking Dixon, back from the grave.”

With that, the voices made their visual presence known. From the shadows, three bodies appeared. Two guys and one woman, all sporting smeared blood on their mouths, emerged from the shadows. Daryl visibly tensed and shifted in front of you, forming a protective barrier between you and the unknown people.

“Hey, guys,” Daryl drawled out hesitantly, his body still acting as a protective barrier in front of you. “Where's the others?”

“Holy shit, it really is him,” one of the guys laughed, clapping his hands together twice for added emphasis. “Daryl Dixon. What's up, man? Last I heard, Tommy told us you were dead. Told us that asshole brother of yours got mixed up with some hunters and killed you. Glad that isn't true. The gang's still going strong, believe it or not. The others are out searching for food. They will be thrilled to see you. We missed you around here.”

“Speak for yourself, Stevie,” the woman—Janine, you guessed—scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. “This asshole left us to die all those years ago. We should kill him and that bitch he's trying to protect.”

“What, that human?” the guy barked out with a laugh. “Please, Daryl here is too smart to be hanging around with humans. He's keeping her alive to feed on her. You know how tough it is to get decent food nowadays. The flesh eaters are beating us to it.”

“Please, don't make me laugh. Dixon?” the other guy piped in. “Guy's too much of a pussy to keep a human around for that. You know how hard it was to convince him to feed on humans. Son of a bitch was planning on going vegan and drinking animal blood. It wouldn't surprise me if the little human is his friend or something.”

As the two guys started arguing, with Janine rolling her eyes and trying to break up the argument, Daryl started whispering to you. “Ya see tha' openin' there, righ' between those two pieces'a metal?” When you nodded, he continued. “I'mma need ya to stay real quiet, head tha' way and hide, alrigh'? Thing's are gon' get messy. I need ya outta the line'a fire. I know ya have a bunch'a questions, and I'll answer 'em all later. I jus' need ya to do wha' I ask, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumbled quietly. “I love you.”

“Love ya too. Now go.”

Following his orders, you slipped away from behind him, praying harder than you ever had before that you didn't capture the attention of the others. You weren't stupid. You knew exactly what these “people” were—vampires. And based on that little interaction, and Daryl's panic, you were certain that they weren't exactly the friendly type of vampire, either.

You were nearing the opening that Daryl had talked about, succeeding in not making a sound, until you felt a whoosh beside you. You stood face to face with one of the men, the guy giving you a creepy smile. “Where do you think you're going, baby? The fun is just beginning.”

Before you could make a run for it, the guy had pushed you and you were flying through the air, your back soon making harsh contact with the wall. All the wind got knocked from your lungs, and your vision got a bit spotty. Bringing a hand up to the back of your head, you could feel the stickiness of the red liquid before you saw it. You were bleeding.

The scent of your blood filled the air, and hunger instantly dawned on every vampire's face—every face except Daryl's. In seconds, they were all lunging for you, only stopping short because Daryl used his body as a protective barrier again. “Don't,” he warned them.

Janine laughed wickedly. “Looks like Derek was right after all. You're still the same fucking wimp you were all those years ago. Still protecting your precious little humans.” Janine licked her lips, her fangs elongating. “I'm gonna have so much fun watching the life drain from her eyes.”

The last shred of the archer's patience snapped, and before anyone could properly see what he was doing, he lunged for the woman, snapping her neck effortlessly. The woman's life drained from her eyes—temporarily, as Daryl had told you that the only way to properly kill a vampire was by getting it in the heart—and that was enough to send the other two into a fit of rage.

“You motherfucker!”

Daryl grabbed the guy that was charging at him and threw him to the other side of the room. He briefly turned to look at you, quickly helping you to your feet. “Go! Get to tha' openin'!”

You definitely didn't need to be told twice. Walkers were predictable. They were loud, clumsy. You could handle walkers. Vampires were an entirely different ballpark. Daryl could easily overpower you without even using his full strength. You definitely did not want to find out what a vampire using its full strength could do to you. Ignoring the pain in your body, you bolted for that opening, wanting to get out of the line of fire. You didn't want to leave Daryl alone with these psychopaths, but you knew you didn't really have much of a choice. You'd be more of a liability than much help. Being safe would ensure that Daryl had a clear mind. He could defend himself. He'd be okay.

When Daryl saw you crawl into the opening, all hell broke loose. The guy—who Daryl knew from his life before the outbreak to be Derek—met a cruel, agonizing end. He had made the mistake to try and get to you. Daryl rushed over to him, grabbed him and pushed him forward, right into one of the metal rods sticking out of the wall. The rod impaled him in the chest, right through the most vital organ that kept him alive. Derek yelled as the rod drove right through him, but as soon as his heart was touched, he fell deathly silent—emphasis on the deathly. Two down, one to go. Daryl turned around and faced Stevie, the biggest and strongest vampire of the three. The archer knew that he had his work cut out for him.

Stevie approached Daryl threateningly. “What the hell are you doing, man?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone of voice. “That one human can't be worth more than years of friendship with us. All can be forgiven. Hand her over, add her blood to the rain, and everything will be fine.”

Daryl practically growled, his eyes alight with a fiery glare. “Ya add her blood to tha' fuckin' rain yer talkin' 'bout, I'll fuckin' kill ya.”

Stevie shook his head in disappointment. “Matt was right,” he began. “I never should've turned you. I should've left you to die on the side of that road.”

“Yeah, ya prolly shoulda.” The two men lunged for the other, the two colliding against each other harshly. However, by some stroke of luck, Daryl quickly got the upper hand. He unsheathed his knife and plunged it deeply into the other man's chest, eliciting a scream from him. Daryl firmly gripped the shirt of the man, bringing his face dangerously close to his. “Nah, scratch tha'. Ya definitely shoulda let me die tha' day. Guess s'a bit too late for tha' now, huh?”

With that, Daryl withdraw his knife and threw the almost lifeless corpse away from him. However, what the archer didn't know was that he threw the body right into a lever, the same lever that activated the rain the other vampires had been talking about—a blood rain.

Human blood sprayed out of the sprinkler system and rained down on Daryl, drenching him in seconds. The scent was extremely overwhelming to him, and when Daryl lifted his head to see where the blood was coming from, a few drops fell onto his lips. Against his better judgement, he licked his lips, the taste of human blood filling his taste buds for the first time in years. The taste overwhelmed his senses completely, and it took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to just open his mouth and greedily absorb every droplet of blood that fell from the sprinkler.

“Daryl?”

The sound of your voice instantly caught his attention, and he forced himself to snap back to reality. Janine would only be out cold for a few minutes more at best, and he had no idea when the others would return. He had to get you out of there. “C'mon, we gotta go,” he spoke up hoarsely. He quickly walked over to the woman and plunged his knife into her heart, ending her life completely, before making a beeline for the door you had come through earlier.

You quickly followed behind him, confused by his haste, but you refrained from saying anything. Your head was still throbbing painfully and your body was aching all over. Plus now you were drenched in blood, so that added to your discomfort. You silently climbed into the truck you had brought out with you for the run and started it, watching Daryl climb onto his newly-assembled bike and speed off. You shifted the truck into drive and followed behind him, leaving the factory behind you.

The drive back to Alexandria was long, and all you had to accompany you were your own thoughts. You had a million questions you wanted to ask your partner, and you needed answers. One problem you encountered when you finally got home, though? Daryl wouldn't be near anybody, not even you. When you got showered and wanted to settle down, Daryl was nowhere to be found.

The only thing that was left in his absence was an open window and a short note explaining that he'd be fine and not to worry about him.

Three days. It had been three days since that incident at the old factory. Three days since Daryl had disappeared. Three days since you were promised an explanation.

As quickly as you were given permission to go on runs again, just as quickly you were placed on bed rest again. That vampire had thrown you with quite the force. According to the doctor, Denise, you had bruised your ribs, and rather badly, too. She told you that you were lucky they weren't broken. Your back was also really badly bruised. It made sleeping rather hard, and without your partner there, your own personal space heater, sleep completely eluded you.

The house was relatively quiet that day. With you being placed on bed rest and banned from helping out around the community, you laid on the bed while staring at the ceiling, the only thing occupying your mind being the memory of you hugging Daryl for the first time; it also happened to be the first time you had commented on the warmth his body emitted, despite his “undead” nature. However, the archer had simply chuckled, vowing to explain it to you another time.

The sound of the window to your bedroom opening had your senses peaking to high alert. You grabbed the knife that rested under your pillow and hurriedly sprung up from the bed, clutching the weapon tightly. However, you calmed down once you saw who it was; your partner, gripping his crossbow while holding a dead squirrel between his teeth.

“Daryl, oh my god,” you breathed a sigh of relief and helped him through the window. However, once he was inside, Daryl firmly pushed you to the side and tried to put as much distance between the two of you as he physically could without having to leave the room. That made you confused. “Daryl, what—”

“Dun' come any closer. Please,” he mumbled out weakly, removing the dead squirrel from his mouth and tightly clutching it in his hands. “I dun' wanna hurt ya. Jus' needed to see if ya were alrigh'.”

“Hurt me?” You took a small step forward, stopping short when Daryl tensed up. “What do you mean hurt me? That's impossible. You can never hurt me.” You took a tentative step towards the archer, determined to show him that you didn't fear him, despite the warning that he could hurt you. You didn't believe that. He could never hurt you. Of that you were certain. “I don't know what's going on in that amazing mind of yours, but I want to understand. Please. Talk to me.”

Daryl let out a shuddered breath when your hand made contact with his cheek, unknowingly dropping the dead animal on the ground. Your scent was heavily intoxicating, like some drug he could easily get addicted to, and it made it extremely hard for him to keep his hunger at bay. Still, he tried. He tried his hardest. He would never willingly hurt the most precious thing in his life. He'd much rather have his own heart get ripped out than hurt you.

His instincts somewhat got the better of him. Daryl slightly turned his head and kissed your wrist, his teeth barely scraping against your skin. You inhaled sharply at the contact, your mind instantly flooded with thoughts that Gabriel would declare unholy, but you forced yourself to think straight. There would be time for things like that another time. For now, you had to get through to your partner. You had to figure out what was going through his mind. And you had to figure out why his gorgeous ocean coloured eyes had adapted that crimson colour when he was actively feeding not even five minutes prior.

“Talk to me,” you begged, pleaded, in a soft tone. “What's going on?” A few beats of silence passed. Daryl withdrew from your touch and took a few steps back, and you were convinced that he was going to shut you down, but you were pleasantly surprised when he let out a deep sigh and nodded.

“Ya remember those vamps tha' we encountered three days ago?” When you nodded, he continued. “I guess ya can say tha' they were my “friends”. When I got bitten by Stevie way back when, they took me in, showed me the ropes. They told me tha' if I wanted to survive, I'd have to live according to their customs. I'd have to feed off'a humans. For a while, tha's all tha' I knew. I mean, they've been alive for decades. I was a nobody, jus' some kid they took in. It didn't mean tha' I liked it, though. I wished more than anythin' for a way out.”

Daryl stopped for a moment and sat down on the bed before continuing. “But then they said tha' to prove myself, I'd have to kill my brother, drink his blood. Tha's when I jus' couldn't do it anymore. I got some vamp to pretend to have gotten into a scuffle with me and to tell everyone tha' he had killed me. I got my act straight and searched for alternatives, and tha's how I started becomin' “vegan”. I haven't had human blood again since then. Well, not since...” Daryl cleared his throat, his breath hitching when he inhaled too deeply and caught a whiff of your intoxicating scent again. “Not since tha' whole ordeal with those bastards. The blood tha' rained down on us was human blood. I made the mistake of tastin' it. Now nothin' s'satisfyin' my hunger. Not deer, not squirrel, nothin'. M'so goddamn hungry and I dun' know wha' to do.”

Silence. It got so silent that one could hear a pin drop. It got so silent that you could hear someone fiddling around with the pots and pans in the kitchen, that someone being Gabriel. The priest, although not very liked by your group, had been allowed to stay in your home. You were sure that if he had heard Daryl's confession, he'd run to Deanna first chance he got. But that wasn't your main focus at that moment.

Nothing would satisfy his hunger. No, that definitely wasn't something you believed. No animal would satisfy his hunger. However, you were sure that you could think of an alternative to his problems; you could be his solution. Seeing your man in such a state broke your heart, and if you could help him out of his terrible predicament, how could you say no?

With your decision made, you moved over to Daryl. You slowly straddled his lap and looped your arms around his neck. Daryl inhaled deeply and moved to grip your hips and lift you off of him, not trusting his own instincts, but you didn't allow him to do so. “Don't,” you whispered, gently brushing his hair away from his eyes.

Daryl's now blood red eyes stared at you, a small whimper escaping him. God, you smelled so good. It was getting to be too much to handle. If he didn't put some distance between the two of you, he'd most certainly do something he'd end up regretting. “I dun' wanna hurt ya. Ya smell so good and m'not sure I can control myself much longer. I have to go. I—”

“Don't,” you repeated your earlier statement. “No matter what you do, nothing satisfies your hunger, right?” When Daryl nodded, you continued. “No animal blood satisfies your hunger. My blood will.”

“Nah. I ain't doin' tha',” Daryl denied your offer, his breathing starting to fasten at the idea. He had to admit, the thought of tasting your blood sounded extremely appealing to him, but he couldn't. He didn't know if he'd be able to stop.

“It's either with me, your partner who won't snitch on you for this, or some innocent person. If you don't feed now, some innocent person is going to die. We don't want that.”

“Nah, I can't.” Daryl's words rung through the air as his breathing became more erratic. Although he was steadfast in his denial to your gracious request, his fingers tightened their hold on your hips. “I haven't drunk from a person in years. Wha' if I can't stop?”

“That won't happen,” you told him reassuringly, your fingers gently working through his hair. “I trust you. You'll know when to stop.”

Daryl inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as his self-restraint started to dwindle even more. “But, Gabriel's here. He's gon' hear everythin',” he mumbled, lowering his head to rest on your shoulder. “Ya've heard me when I feed on animals. Increase tha' by ten when it comes to human blood. He's gon' tell Deanna and m'gonna be kicked out, maybe even killed.”

“Well,” you began with a seductive smirk. You pulled back, moved your hands down to grip the edge of your shirt and tugged it over your head, leaving your upper body completely bare to your partner's now lustful gaze. “I guess you need some motivation to stay quiet, huh?”

Daryl let out a shuddered breath, his eyes trailing over your body. Any ounce of his self-restraint flew out of the window. All he thought about was you, and how absolutely amazing you'd taste, and he didn't want to admit that the thought sent blood rushing straight down to his dick. “Wha' do ya have in mind?”

Your smirk widened slightly at the feeling of him growing hard beneath you. Your hands moved to the back of his head, your eyes alight with mischief as your idea came out to play. “I'm gonna give you what you told me was your favourite thing and pair it with feeding you,” you began, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his lips before pulling back. “This.” Without even giving him time to process your words, you gently yet firmly brought his face down to your boobs, stuffing his face between them. “Drink.”

To say Daryl was surprised would be an understatement. He definitely hadn't expected that. Even just offering to help satisfy his hunger by drinking your blood was unexpected, and then that happened? However, he knew that you weren't about to take no for an answer, so very slowly and gingerly, he pressed a few kisses to your now bare chest, mentally preparing both you and him for what was about to transpire.

The small action had a white-hot fire shooting down through your body, all the way to your core. Without even fully registering what you were doing, you moaned softly and slowly ground yourself down against his erection, eliciting a broken groan from the archer. His self-restraint fully dissipated. His fangs elongated and he finally sunk them down into the flesh of your boobs, right above your nipple.

You yelped at the unexpected pain that came from his fangs penetrating your skin, but you refrained from pulling back against the pain. The pain would soon go away, you reassured yourself. The thought barely had time to sit in your mind until it was proven correct. The pain very quickly dulled into something more manageable and, dare you even say it, something way more pleasurable. The feeling had you rolling your hips against his, a desperate attempt to relieve the ache that formed at your core.

Daryl groaned at both the feeling of the pressure you bestowed on his clothed cock and the taste of the delicious crimson that filled his taste buds. You tasted better than anything he'd ever had before in his entire existence, human or animal. It was almost unbearable. His senses were acutely aware of you. Only you. He couldn't focus on anything else.

Subconsciously, Daryl started moving his hips up against yours, begging for any sort of friction to relieve the ache in his pants. You moaned at the feeling, grinding yourself down against him harder. Daryl wasn't going to last long, and you knew it. You knew his tells for when he was close. And for some reason, the thought of him falling apart simply by the taste of you and the little bit of friction pressed against him was so incredibly hot to you.

Daryl was close, in more ways than one. He was close to coming. He was close to retracting his fangs from your flesh as to not take too much of your blood. He was close to metaphorically dying. He was on cloud nine at that moment, and he never wanted to come down. Your blood was an addictive drug, one that he never wanted to get clean from. There was no rehab for him when the drug he was consuming at that moment was so damn good. He couldn't get enough of you. And after this whole ordeal, he doubted if he'd ever be able to go back to his former animal-drinking ways.

One last suck, one last mouthful of your delicious crimson liquid and one last grind of your hips had him tumbling over the edge. His body shook at the powerful feeling of his orgasm, white, hot spurts of his release coating the insides of his jeans. Daryl whimpered against your flesh, the intensity of it all making his mind incredibly foggy.

“That's it. Good job, Baby. You did so good,” you whispered soothingly, your mind also hazy from both the blood loss and the loss of your approaching release. However, you wouldn't tell Daryl about that last part. He could take care of you another time. Besides, even if he was willing to help you out at that moment, you doubted that you would be able to. You felt very light-headed, and all you wanted to do was collapse into your partner's arms.

Daryl withdrew his fangs from the skin of your breast. He looked up at you with his now-blue eyes, only small specks of red still coating the beautiful irises. “Ya alrigh'?” he asked you quietly, warily eyeing the way you eyes started to droop. “I didn't take too much, did I?”

You slowly shook your head. “No. I'll be okay. Just a bit light-headed.” You forced your eyes to focus on Daryl, desperately wanting to reassure him that you didn't regret a thing and that you were indeed just fine. “I promise I'm okay, Dar. You didn't take that much. I just need to rest and I'll be fine.”

Daryl hesitantly nodded before lowering his head to the wound his fangs had made onto your flesh. He gingerly licked at the blood that poured from the open skin before going back to the source, gently licking at it. “This'll help it heal faster,” Daryl explained, although he didn't have to. You were well aware of the healing attributes his spit carried. He had “magic spit”, as you had jokingly called it once before.

When he was done, he gently lifted you off his lap, placing you down next to him. He grabbed your shirt from the ground and helped you to put it on. “C'mon, in bed with ya. Ya need to take it easy.” When you complied with his request, he took it upon himself to clean up the mess he made in his jeans. He shuddered as he slowly undressed himself, his release sticking to him in a way he didn't like. He grabbed his rag and cleaned himself up, before grabbing a fresh pair of sweatpants from the dresser and putting them on. When everything was done, and with the immediate risk of hurting you gone, he clambered into bed with you. He wrapped his arms around you, cuddling you from behind. He was certain that you had fallen asleep, but he was pleasantly surprised when he heard your voice.

“Should you be this hot?” you asked him, turning around to place your head on his chest.

“Wha' do ya mean?” Daryl asked you in confusion, his arms adjusting to hold you close to his chest.

“Well, vampires are considered to be dead, right? Dead things are usually cold. You're not. I wanna know why.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “I dun' really know why. There are a bunch'a different types'a vamps. M'guessin' the reason I have human heat s'cause I didn't fully complete the “transformation” process. Yer supposed to drink the blood'a the vamp tha' bit ya to fully transform into one. I never did tha'. Stevie didn't want me to and said it didn't matter whether or not I did. Guess tha's wha's keepin' my human traits in check.”

“What happens to those that don't fully transform?”

“Not much. We dun' become immortal. Tha's why m'agin' jus' like everyone else. Tha's a huge plus for me. I definitely dun' wanna live forever. We need human food to survive jus' as much as we need blood. Can't survive purely off'a blood and can't survive purely off'a food. Need to have both.” He stopped, placed a tender kiss on your forehead, and continued. “We can walk in the sun without dyin', so tha's good. And, uh, we can make babies who are completely human, but I dun' know how true tha' is. Never tried it 'fore.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his clothed chest. “Well, I'm always up to try it. To test out that theory. Just tell me when.”

Daryl's breath hitched in his throat. You couldn't be serious about that, could you? “This yer way'a tellin' me ya want a baby?”

You shrugged and closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh. “I'm not getting any younger. I kinda want to start a family. But it's okay if you don't want to. I'd never force you to...” you trailed off, your breathing evening out.

Daryl looked down at you in surprise at your revelation. You wanted to start a family? With him? The thought both scared and excited him. “Ya really want tha'? With me?” he asked you. However, he got no reply. You were fast asleep. He chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. “We'll talk 'bout it when ya ain't delirious from blood loss.”

[ozzgin]

Hello again, are requests still open? If they are, can I request headcanons for Izuku, Shoto, and Tamaki with an artist reader? They stumble upon the reader's book full of art. The book also has drawings of them and the reader together.

Yes! I even have your previous ask halfway written in my drafts, which I might just conveniently incorporate it here haha. I'm just very slow to write everything. I do mark the request section as closed when it's the case., so no worries.

BNHA Characters x Artist! Reader Headcanons

Featuring Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shoto, Amajiki Tamaki and a reader whose doodles are rather obvious in meaning. More fluff!

Midoriya Izuku

Deku is not really one to pry. So it was absolutely not his intention to snoop. He'd just assumed that your notebook has generic scribbles made of class notes, facts and observations, similar to his. He didn't expect to find intricate sketches, and of such quality too!

Really, he's mesmerized. He has an eye for detail and will carefully scan every line and every brush stroke. Is this a portrait of your teacher? Fantastic angle you've chosen! The crosshatching adds a lot of depth. He slowly flips through the pages, wondering why you've never mentioned your hobby. He's even a little dejected, fearing you might not consider him as close a friend.

Then he reaches the doodles of him and you together. Oh. Ooooh. He has to look away for a moment, trying to contain his blush. Well, it certainly makes sense you'd keep it from him. He'd like to return the sketchbook and pretend he never saw anything, but...As much as he doesn't want to embarrass you, he can't get the idea out of his mind. To think you like him, too...Can he really hide how happy that makes him?

Todoroki Shoto

Opening your personal belongings was completely unintentional. Todoroki had accidentally included one of your notebooks among his own and swiftly left for his dorm room. As he clumsily dumped out the contents of his bag, he finally spotted the foreign item sprawled out on his desk.

Drawings? He can't think of anyone in class to ever mention such interest. Then he remembers he sat next to you, so it must be yours. He blushes slightly at the idea. It would be most terrible of him to snoop further, but he can't help his curiosity. He'd love to know more about you and a perfect opportunity is shining brightly before him. Just a quick peek...nothing more.

To think you were this skilled and he never noticed. He stumbles upon a portrait of himself. Unexpected. When did you even have the time to observe him so carefully? His lips purse in embarrassment. By the time he reaches the lovely couple doodles, his ears are bright red. Was his crush that obvious? He can hardly believe the coincidence of you liking him back and expressing it so clearly. Returning the sketchbook will certainly be interesting. It is the duty of a Prince, after all (If he is to refer to your little sketches).

Amajiki Tamaki

Tamaki has noticed how you often sneak away from the crowds and assumed you, too, are struggling with anxiety and awkwardness. Upon further inspection, however, it seems you just enjoy sketching by yourself. He feels a little ridiculous, hiding behind the wall and spying on an innocent hobby like this.

Then again, why the secrecy? He always thought you're good friends, yet you never mentioned anything about it. Combined with the fact you frequently praise him or gaze at him uncomfortably long...Are you planning on pranking him or something? No, no, that's just his paranoia talking. He reassures himself as he holds the little book you conveniently forgot behind. This is the perfect opportunity to prove to himself he's overthinking as usual.

Seeing the doodles of you and him together turns him into a fumbling, red-faced mess. His hands are trembling. The polite thing to do right now would be to close the notebook and promptly return it. Still, he's stuck in place, staring at the pages. Is this a joke? You can't possibly like him back. Someone like him. As much as he denies it, the longing won't leave his flustered heart. A man can dream...

[easy-there-leftovers]

Doctor

Summary: Spencer's been there when you had been feeling rather inadequate, for lack of a better term. It's about time that you return the favor. (Written with early s2! Spencer in mind)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader| cw: Spencer being unsure (is that a warning? lol), touchy reader, non canon case, vague timeline, reader and Spence being sapiosexual dumbasses, as per usual (weirdos) | word count: 2.3k

Budget cuts suck, especially if that meant doubling up and sharing a room with one of your colleagues. Or worse— your boss.

It's been a few months since your last GSW, and things haven't been much different. Or maybe it only was because you had been so out of the loop for a while that you hadn't noticed if it was. You hadn't changed up your routine nor your demeanor, so perhaps the others were just following your lead and brushing it off as nothing.

You still feel the occasional stares of literally anyone from your workplace, but you've learned to ignore it since dwelling on it never did you any good.

But you suppose something had changed.

Your relationship with your contemporary.

To be more specific, Dr. Reid had become more accustomed to seeking you out. Engaging in conversation with you more than the previous usual. It wasn't extremely unlike him to do so before, but his persistence has surely increased since your conversation at the hospital. Keeping to his intentions of having more dialogue between you two.

The same couldn't be said about the past week or two, however. While it didn't seem like he was completely avoiding you, you've noticed that you've had more opportunities to talk to Elle, JJ, and Morgan more than you have him. As if the overall frequency of his exchanges with everyone had somehow diminished.

You were going to find out why.

"Looks like we're doubling up." Your unit chief had briefed when you made it the shitty motel.

And your plan starts now.

Spencer feels an arm snake around his waist which makes him look up from his notes, and he's not surprised to see that it's yours. If anyone had to be making decisive contact with him, it would've been you.

"What is it?" He whispers carefully since Hotch is still talking. Used to your touch it at this point.

"Would you like to sleep with me, Dr. Reid?" He clears his throat instinctively.

Your indelicate remarks however, most likely never.

Since your little incident, he's discovered that you're less careful with your diction outside of work and it has certainly thrown him off but he knows that's just how you are. You and your forever unreadable expressions and contrasting sentiments.

Before he can answer however, Morgan's voice cuts through.

"I'm not sleeping with Reid." Everyone looks to him, except Garcia who immediately calls dibs on Derek, and he feels your arm slowly pull away.

Aaron looks from you to Spencer with that usual expression of his before exhaling deeply with crossed arms.

"I assume you're rooming with her?"

Seeing that you're no longer facing him, Spencer can only give your mentor a meek nod. Feeling the same wariness one would feel in the presence of someone's father.

The rest then picked their respective roommates and disband. Reminding one another to meet at the entrance tomorrow bright and early.

———————————————

Lately, Reid has become aware of a lot of things. Things that he never had to worry about before, but ever since Morgan had told him how you felt about the team, he had started questioning his place too.

He has never been ashamed of his intelligence. Far from it, actually. It's the one thing that he's ever been confident in and it's lead him to places that, he thinks, bettered him. Like coaching his high school basketball team, graduating with three PhD's, or getting into the BAU.

But he also fears that part of him alienates him from the others. That his intellect might be the very reason that will, or already, keep him from forming lasting and meaningful relationships. Even more troubling, that he might never live up to the expectations that everyone has of him.

Both as a colleague, and as a friend.

It's worse when the only person on the team that might not feel this way about him is you. Which then comes with its own set of problems.

You had been nothing but well-intentioned since the very start, practically shadowing him throughout everything. Being there to reinforce his confidence with your keen insight, your reflective encouragement, and your comforting presence—all things that made him feel seen.

But with the few times that you weren't there, it unnerved him. As if something was missing. Like it became an unshakeable habit to look over his shoulder and he would find you right there. So when you weren't there, it jus didn't seem right.

And he felt bad about it.

By the time that you had finished showering, you see Spencer with his hair still lightly damp from the one before yours. Head resting on his hand with a lone finger covering his mouth as if thinking deeply while sitting on the bedside's edge.

You take the opportunity to sit on the floor adjacent his tucked legs and he blinks out of his trance when he sees you lay your head on them. He doesn't mind, but he still feels a little bad.

And it's not about the shared single bed.

He felt as if he was taking advantage of your kindness. That by allowing himself to indulge in your brand of 'friendship,' he was effectively isolating you from the others. That for whatever reason, he just got lucky that you seemed to prefer him over them when he was arguably the most difficult to be with

That if you ever caught wind of his feelings towards you, it would ruin the current dynamic you had. He wasn't the type to catastrophize, he of all people should know the dangers of entertaining such thoughts, but lately your presence has had quite the influence on him.

Which is why he's been trying to make himself scarce until he found out how to deal with it.

You wait patiently by his legs. Gauging when he would finish his line of thought before asking, plainly and simply,

"How are you feeling, Spencer?"

In this room where it's just you and him, he's called 'Spencer.' No titles, no niceties, just his name. A luxury that no one else from the team has yet to earn from you.

He breathes out slowly when the pressure in his chest finally feels like too much, but he still can't seem to say what's on his mind. Worried that by telling you any of this, it would only add more weight onto your already abundant plate.

You trace your fingers on the skin that you can reach and he laughs a bit when it tickles. That seems to make you smile, and the sight makes his own grow ever so slightly before you continue,

"I'm not a doctor, nor do I have a doctorate like you—,"

"Three doctorates." He corrects and you roll your eyes playfully at that.

"Three doctorates. Fact of the matter is; I'm not a doctor but— I think I might be able to help."

You motion for him to lend you his hand, the one no longer holding his head, and he gives it to you willingly. Still feeling somewhat guilty when just that amount of contact does actually help him.

You know that you shouldn't profile your friends, but there's a reason why you're in the BAU and not anywhere else.

"So what are your symptoms?" You sense that this is a case that must be handled with a bit of humor, so you make that evident in your delivery.

He clears his throat and furrows his eyes, as if actually treating pretending that he was your patient before ultimately shaking his head with a tight-lipped smile.

"Actually, the symptoms aren't that simple." You hum at that, and get up to stand in front of him.

When he sees you get up though, he feels his hand instinctively tighten over yours. Worried that you were closing the conversation because he was being inarticulate, he goes to apologize but he feels yours squeeze him back before he can.

You notice a few stray strands of hair from your new vantage point. You carefully free both of your hands to tuck them behind his ears, and let one rest gently on the side of his face. Holding it in place, and allowing you to see his expression more clearly.

He feels a bit shy at the attention, but he finds himself leaning onto your hand with a confused expression. You breathe out in mirth and that only seems to confuse him even more.

"You better stop looking at me like that before I do something terrible."

He furrows his brows at that. Hand coming up to rest on top of yours. "Like what?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy." You continue to observe him, much to his chagrin. Assessing the situation before sighing out.

His hesitance from earlier told you everything you needed to know.

"Do you want to try telling me again, or would you like a diagnosis now?"

He looks into your eyes and sees that you're serious so he just nods slowly. Not really sure what to expect since there's no way that you could've gotten anything from him.

"My diagnosis says that you have 'intellectual schism syndrome.' Common to manifest in young geniuses like you. Characterized by a dependence on one's intelligence as their source of fulfillment, and yet simultaneously fear it as the root of their social isolation and relational difficulties."

You pause to gauge his expression once more before continuing.

"You may have been born with all the wonderful things that help you with this job, but you need to remember that's not the reason why people care about you. You can ask for help. Your worth as an individual isn't dependent on your perceived use."

You let the words hang in the air a bit before correcting yourself, "I mean, that's only when it comes to personal relationships. This job? Well—maybe we'll think about it before kicking you to the curb."

He lifts his face from your hold, still grasping your hand, before shaking his head. As if still not understanding something but he eventually finds the words the words to express that.

"That—That's not an actual syndrome; it's not recognized nor documented in any psychological or medical literature."

You scoff at that. "Yeah, I sure it hope it's not. I'm not a doctor, remember?"

He searches your face for an answer before breathing out incredulously. "Did you know that you have an incredible knack for saying the most terrible things?"

You smile at that. "Was I wrong?"

He think about the answer to that, before shaking his head 'no.' Because you're partially right, but he'd rather not correct you on what you're missing.

He looks down at your still intertwined hands, god he's been holding onto it for a while now, before quietly asking,

"Uh, how did you—?" He trails off. Not really knowing what he's asking.

You shrug. "You forget who you're working with. I notice these things, I notice you."

He flexes his eyebrows and thinks for a moment. "So what's your prognosis?"

You look to the corner of the small motel room to think before eventually settling on an answer.

"Only you can really find that out, Spencer."

You look back to see him already looking at you. "Your intelligence is an integral part of who you are, and that's why you're here. Your intellect isn't a barrier—it's a strength. So do what you will with that information."

"What if I can't find the answer?"

"Hm,"

Your legs are starting to get tired, so you move to get on the bed with him. Making sure that there's enough space for the both of you as you settle in. "You always have friends that can help you. Miss Jareau, Sir Morgan, Sir Hotchner, Miss—“

"Even you?"

The face he's making makes your chest feel tight, like there's a pressure building there and yet you don't know why. With his unusually shy behavior, and rounder eyes, it makes your usually impassive expression (to everyone else on the team, at least) soften.

"Especially me."

You pat the spot next to you as you recognize that you should've been asleep an hour ago. Telling Reid that you two should probably sleep so that you can make it tomorrow without being tired and he does just that.

"You don't think I rely on you too much?" You furrow your brows at that. Now looking at him from down on the bed.

"Not any more than you do sir Morgan."

He tries to see the point you're making but fails. So he turns to look at you.

"I don't really...rely on him."

"Exactly."

"...So I don't?"

"How about this," you can tell that being roundabout your answer isn't going to cut it, so you're going to have to switch gears.

"I don't think you do. But even if you did, I wouldn't mind. So if you find yourself ever needing, or wanting," you punctuate this with an earnest look into his eyes, "help from me specifically, in any way, at any time, just come to me—and ask for help. Say something like um, I don't know, uh—" you shake your head as you try to think.

'I need your help,' is too vague, you hear it all the time during cases. 'Could you do me a favor,' won't work either since it doesn't really excuse the both of you so—

"Can we look at this?", "I need you?"

You laugh. Actually laugh out loud at what you just heard. The words you just said practically blended into one another to the point where you don't even know who said what anymore, but that didn't really matter.

Spencer feels his face flush, and his volume increases due to his embarrassment. "Hey, I was just trying to—"

A loud knock is heard from the room's wall, followed by Morgan's voice.

"Newsflash, kids. Some of us are actually trying to sleep. Go argue about your theories later."

The boy-genius and you make eye contact before trying to stifle your laughter, you having a much harder time than the former before revisiting the conversation.

"You know what to tell me when you need me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Let's go to sleep."

You say goodnight, before turning your back to him so you can process what's going on. You wonder if the buzzing feeling you have would go away in time for an actual restful sleep.

You could use one on this case because it seems like the more you uncover, the more you're confused. Theories of all kinds swim in your head, ready to occupy your thoughts for a little while longer before hopefully sending you to a peaceful slumber.

Hotch is going to need you two ready and working.

And because of your nerves, you don't even notice Spencer turning his back to you too. Wondering if you had been feeling the same thing he was from the situation, from the contact, from the conversation, from everything.

Unlike you, he's for sure not getting any sleep.

[a/n] Every time I write for Spencer with this reader, he just can't catch a break-- Send in some ideas for the next part of the anthology if you'd like!! Like certain character interactions, dynamics, etc. I'd like to see what you're interested in seeing :DD

taglist: @crazychaoticizzy

Like my work? Consider tipping me!!

[techwrecker]

platonic Logan howlett x kid reader where Logan takes the kid under his wing because the reader didn’t have like, parents anymore???

Intentions (Mutations)

Summary: After living on the streets for years, Logan takes it upon himself to make sure you're taken care of after your mutation develops.

Genre: Fluff?, light angst?

Tags: SFW platonic!logan, gn!kid!reader, not really fluff but not really angst, logan goes dad mode again

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: N/A (please let me know if I missed any!)

A/N: Thank you for sending in the ask! I hope you enjoy what I have! This is the longest piece I've written yet. Please keep in mind, that I jumbled the already incoherent timeline a little bit- I hope that's okay! Let me know if there are any grammar/spelling errors please. as always, reblogs, likes, & comments are always appreciated ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

AO3//Taglist Sign-up

Other: dividers by @moosgraphics & @bunnysrph (tysm!)

The man standing at the mouth of the alley wasn't the usual kind of grungy, scoundrel that you were used to seeing. He was wearing a slick leather jacket over a pristine, white undershirt. His facial hair was well-kept and stylized unlike the scraggly, long beards that most around here men touted. His hair was seemingly done with a little tuft sticking out atop either side of his head. He could have just had bedhead or hat-hair, but they were too pointed to not be intentional. Ever since you were a kid, your intuition had never led you astray.

'''D'jya hear me, kid? I asked what the hell are y'doin' out in the cold all alone for." His voice was rocky and gruff, but it wasn't slurred or subdued by the weight of yellowed alcohol. You were surprised he even spotted you, huddled up against the frozen dumpster in the alley.

"Got nowhere else to go." You shrugged, attempting to retain the illusion of being unconcerned despite the wicked chill seeping beneath your layers. It wouldn't be long until the bite of winter dug its way deep into your body, carving you out and rattling your bones.

Living on the streets alone wasn't easy, especially in the winter. It had been about three years since your parents disappeared. You were yet but a tender 11 years old. At first, it was nice not having anyone around to make you get up early and go to school. But the days turned to weeks. Crying yourself to sleep night after night snuggled in deep between the fluffy pillows and lifeless covers of your parents' bed became your routine.

Eventually, the police came around after negligence reports by the school. You knew if you stayed alone any longer, you'd be taken away by force, sent off to live with strangers. Something in your stomach made it turn, telling you to run away. That bad things would happen if you stuck around. So, you packed up what your tiny frame could carry and struck out on your own, leaving the only home you had ever known.

"C'mere." He beckoned you out of the shadow with one hand and stuck it back in his jacket pocket. "Y'r gonna freeze if you stay out here any longer."

Under normal circumstances, letting strange men call you towards them late at night was a death wish, but there was something deep in your gut that told you it was safe to trust him. Besides, anywhere had to be better than in an odorous alley behind a slimy bar.

You shuffled to your feet, gripping the threadbare blanket tighter around your shoulders. You were just about to outgrow it. The ragged edge barely touched the tops of your feet anymore. Despite the trusting feeling that had wedged itself in your mind, you kept one eye on the man as you hoisted your grimy backpack onto your shoulder.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, y’know," you said, cautiously getting closer to him.

"Yeah, well, you're also not supposed to be outside when it's 20 below."

You were now within arms reach of him. He lifted his arm out of his pocket, toward you. Instinctually, you flinched, using the backpack as a shield to cover you from any contact he might attempt.

"Relax, 'm not gonna hurt ya." He lifted his hand back in a surrendered position. "Just wanted to carry y'r pack for ya is all."

You peeked back around at him. Gingerly, you slid the backpack off your blanketed arm. You extended it to him, grip still secure on the strap. The man grabbed the other strap, but you didn't let go.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why’re you helping me?"

"'Cause I’mma bleedin' heart for the youth a tha nation, that's why," he retorted sarcastically.

You tugged the pack slightly back towards your chest. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. Letting go of the strap, he stuffed both hands back into his pockets.

"Listen kid, y' remind me of someone 's all. I just wanna make sure you’re taken care of." He shrugged.

You stared at him silently, assessing him. Delicate flurries of snow started to fall from the sky. They nestled gently on the tips of his tufts creating a light blanket. The icy fluff reflected in the harsh streetlamp, mimicking a halo. You looked into his eyes. There was a genuine sincerity in them. That trusting feeling was pulling at your conscience again.

“‘Kay… but I’m watching you, old man.”

It wasn’t a joke, but he gave a little chuckle and shook his head, amused. He mumbled something under his breath you couldn’t quite make out. Something about ‘christ’ and ‘regrets’.

“Whatever y’say, bub. You’re the boss here.” He started walking off down the street, expecting you to follow suit. You shrugged the heavy bag back onto your shoulder and started after him, slightly trailing behind him, just beyond his reach.

“So what’s your name?” You asked.

“Logan,” he said simply, not even bothering to look behind his shoulder.

Logan. It was a surprisingly mundane name. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“Just Logan?” If you were going to let the stranger lead you to an even stranger location, you should at least know his full name to give the police if things went south.

“Yeah. Kid, I don’t got all night. Get a move on.” He sounded annoyed.

But it was his fault you were tagging along in the first place, you thought. Whatever. 

You picked up the pace in a light trot to catch up with him, careful not to slide on the now-slick sidewalk. You were walking side-by-side with him now, but using up twice the effort to stay in step. Logan was tall, taking long strides to get to the unknown destination quickly. 

As you walked, you admired the frosty blanket beginning to layer the frozen city. Pale drifts of snow piling in corners glittered under bright street lamps, reflection shifting with every step. It may have been freezing, but even you had to admit, the untouched, pure snow was beautiful. The street was a silent beauty.

“So who is it?” You probed carefully.

“Hm? Who?”

“The person I remind you of. Who is it?”

“Oh, uh,” he started. “Her name’s Laura.” His voice softened at her name.

“Laura. Pretty. Is she your daughter?” Your intuition prompted you to ask.

“Yeah,” he replied shortly. Apparently, he was a man of few words. He let his head hang for a moment, watching his feet drag through the graying slurry. You watched as he inhaled sharply and lifted his head back up, staring straight ahead stoically, not paying you any mind.

The rest of the trip was made in freezing silence. You were still at his side, but slightly out of his arm’s reach. He was still a stranger, after all. It turned out his apartment building was only a few blocks from where you had been hunkered down. 

His keys jangled as he pulled them out of his pocket. The lock clicked open with a solid thunk. Warm, yellow light spilled out from the doorway onto the concrete steps and frozen metal railing. Logan gestured with his arm, prompting you to step in first. You didn’t like it when people stood where you couldn’t see them, but the comforting glow of the apartment was beckoning you in. He stepped through the threshold after you and shook out the snow that had nestled in his tufts of hair. They were starting to droop slightly as the snow melted in the warmth of his home.

He slipped his arms from his jacket and tossed it on a nearby table. You took in the space he called home. It was obvious that he lived here alone, a bachelor. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the plaid couch in the corner of the living room. Much like your blanket, it was becoming threadbare with pieces of stuffing starting to poke out from the arm rests. It was calling your weary, frozen name. You tore your eyes away to put together the rest of the space. A worn-in recliner propped toward a small television set, a coffee table covered in various newspapers, a few amber beer bottles and crushed aluminum cans. The space wasn’t grimy, just a little cluttered.

“Are y’hungry?” He was walking away, further into his home, toward the kitchen. You stood there, unmoving. It had been about three years since you had set foot in a nice, proper home. You were almost brought to tears.

“Yeah. Always.” 

Logan gave you a small smile and began pulling out ingredients.

You walked toward the kitchen, keeping your snow-crusted boots on and still bundled by your blanket and backpack. Though Logan’s home was exceptionally warmer than outside, the chill of the snow had taken root in your chest and had spread its way through your appendages. It would take you a while yet to thaw.

“How d’ya feel about grilled cheese?” The skillet was already warming on the stovetop and Logan had begun spreading butter across the two pieces of bread. Your mouth watered at the sight. The familiar pang of hunger ripped through your stomach. You almost wanted to tell him to nix the stove altogether so you could eat as soon as possible.

“I feel excellent about grilled cheese,” you said instead, gently tugging on one of the chairs at the small dining table. You sat cautiously on the edge of the seat. There were deep scratches gouged across the wooden tabletop. This was not typical wear and tear.

What on earth could have caused that? You wondered. Upon seeing the scratches, your over-active intuition strangely made you feel more at home. Apparently, there was more to this Logan guy than meets the eye.

He peeked at you from his peripheral vision, gauging your reaction to the gouges. You gave him a shrug. 

“Accidents happen,” you said, making yourself sink further back into the chair. You played it off as if the scratches were only a water ring made by an overly condensated glass sans coaster. Overcome with exhaustion and finally warming up, you decided to let yourself relax a little.

He smiled, like you had stumbled upon an inside joke he held only with himself. Though mostly humorous, the smile held a dash of contempt inside it.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Not knowing what else to say, you took in the rest of the apartment. The windows were covered with yellowing slatted blinds, chips and cracks scattered throughout. The checkered linoleum floor probably hadn’t seen a mop for months. You couldn’t judge him too harshly though. In fact, you weren’t in a place to judge him at all. He led you off the street with pure intentions and into a warm home. 

The delicious smell emanating from the stove curled its way to you, tugging at your already-growling stomach. Logan reached into the skillet and flipped the sandwich with his bare hand. It was not a delicate pinch at the corners and he didn’t even wince or make any indication that the sandwich was hot at all. Strange.

“How’d you do that?” Your curiosity got the better of you.

“Magic.”

“Magic isn’t real. C’mon, tell me how you did it,” you begged.

“How ‘bout this,” he started. “Let’s make a deal. You ask a question, I ask a question. A trade off.”

You weighed the pros and cons. If the only exchange for satiating your curiosity was him prying into your own life, you came to the conclusion that it would be worth it.

You realized you were desperate for somebody to want to care about you. All you had known for the past few years was solidarity and seclusion. You had been in a constant state of fight or flight mode ever since running away from your parentless home. You just wanted somebody to want to look after you again.

“Okay, deal.”

“Great. I’ll start.” He set the plated sandwich down in front of you and took the other chair at the table. It creaked as he sat, as if it were straining every splinter to carry his weight. He certainly had a sturdy frame, but he was not by any means a big man. Strange again.

“Thanks,” you finished. It came out flatly, but you were genuinely grateful.

“Y’r welcome, kid.”

Careful so as not to scarf it down too quickly, you held the golden, crispy sandwich delicately between your dirty fingers, pulling it apart. The hot, gooey insides webbed between the pieces. Logan watched you take the first bite, letting you savor the first real meal you’d had in who knows how long before he asked his first question. It was cheesy, savory bliss. You could have cried, it was so tasty. It trailed warmth down your torso as you ate, taking bigger and faster bites. Before you knew it, you were licking your greasy fingers clean.

“Want another?” Logan asked.

“Yes please.” You were still starving. “Does that count as your question?” 

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Does that count as yours?” 

“Guess not.” You smiled back at him, sheepishly.

He took out two more pieces of bread and began on sandwich number two. You could tell he had done this before, taking care of young kids. He had a paternal instinct and it showed. He was slightly standoffish, but not so much that it was completely awkward. There was no ulterior motive behind his actions, you felt he just truly wanted to take care of you.

“‘Alright, bub. Why are y’on the street?”

You knew this question was coming, and yet your heart still skipped a beat, soaked with anxiety.

“I sort of ran away, but it’s not what you think.” You paused, seeing if he would interject. He didn’t make an attempt, so you continued. “I didn’t run away because I wanted to. I ran away because I had to. My parents disappeared and the police started coming around and I didn’t want to-”

“Hold on,” he cut you off. “Your parents disappeared and your bright idea was to run away? That’s probably the stupidest thing you coulda done.”

Embarrassment and annoyance prickled your cheeks. Logan was still a stranger to you, but you felt oddly compelled to defend your actions, to make him see your side.

“Yeah, well it’s better than being an orphan and forced into foster care. Placed with a family who couldn’t care less about you than the dirt on the ground!” You shot back.

The apartment was suddenly more than warm enough. It was almost sweltering. You twisted your shoulder out from under the strap of the backpack and shrugged off the blanket, letting it fall behind you. You felt a little dizzy as your heart pounded, loud against your chest. You were already weak from scraping together food all the time. Burning sweat began to bead against your hairline and coat your palms.

Logan turned his back to you, facing the stove. “Still seems stupid t’me. How long’ve ya been livin’ like this?” His voice was muffled, like cotton balls had been shoved in your ears. 

Suddenly, a chorus of pounding, pulsing sounds arose and started to drown out everything else. It surged to such a volume, you instinctually pressed your hands against your ears in an attempt to dampen it. It did nothing. The noise was inside your head. There was no stopping it. Your vision started to blur and you blinked hard, trying to rid the fuzz and dizziness with no avail. You opened your mouth to yell and felt the muscles in your throat move, but you couldn’t tell if any sound escaped. Your conscience was slipping, but the grip of the noise wouldn’t let you go. It was only getting louder, more painful. 

You must have made some kind of sound because a fuzzy, Logan-shaped form was moving toward you, seemingly in slow motion. You were slipping out of the seat in pain. He caught you in his muscled arms, right before your head hit the ground. He was yelling something at you, but you couldn’t make out what it was. His lips were moving desperately, his eyes frightened.

Logan was the last thing you saw before your mind surrendered to the stress of the noise, finally descending into unconsciousness.

Your eyes tried to open, fluttering against the bright, white lights on the ceiling. It was too bright to open them fully, but you adjusted fairly quickly. The room was made of sleek metal with a circular door on the opposite wall. It wasn’t a hospital, but it had the feeling of one. It was more unfamiliar and eerily quiet aside from a monitor’s steady beeping. The bed you were laying in looked like it came straight out of an exam room. You looked down at yourself. A tube was sticking out of the crook of your elbow, drips of a translucent liquid sliding into your veins.

The pounding noise in your head had ebbed to a dull ache instead of the throbbing pulse it was before. How much time had passed between Logan’s kitchen and now? Where was he? Had he just abandoned you in this strange room by yourself? You felt your heartbeat quicken in anxiety and as it did, the ache grew stronger. There must be a connection between the two. You had so many questions and nobody was around to answer them.

Just as you were about to start freaking out, the round door opened with a swoosh, the panels disappearing into either side of the wall. You sat up, startled. An older bald man in a wheelchair, a smartly-dressed woman with deep red hair, and the slightly-more-familiar Logan came into the room. The pounding noise and your heartbeat slowed back to normal at the sight of him, but three more louder, of sync beats took its place. The noise got louder as they got closer. Wincing, you wanted to cover your ears, to prepare for the worst. You didn’t want to pass out again or have to endure the painful drumming against your head.

“Ah, welcome back to the world of the conscious,” the bald man said, getting closer to you. His physical voice could barely be heard above the noise, but it somehow reverberated in your mind. “You gave our Logan quite a scare. That is a very difficult thing to do.” There was a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

You looked to Logan. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, still in the same outfit you last saw him in. Dark denim, white undershirt, boots. Maybe hardly any time had passed at all.

“Thanks… what happened?” You asked the trio. Your voice was hoarse from sleep. You couldn’t tell how loud, or quiet, you were being.

The woman reached over to the side table and poured a glass of water for you. Her face was beautiful and kind. She smiled sweetly at you. You took the cool glass from her and let the water soothe your throat.

“Your mutation began to manifest and you passed out,” she explained. Her lips were moving, but like the man, her voice echoed in your head, quieting the thrumming in your ears. “We aren’t quite sure what power your mutation will present itself as yet, but whatever it is, we’re here to help you.”

You looked from her to Logan, confused. The slight scowl on his face wasn’t encouraging.

“Where am I?”

“My dear, you are at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. I am Professor Charles Xavier and this is Jean Grey. Logan very wisely brought you here last night,” the man in the wheelchair said. “To our lab.”

Your eyes flickered between the strangers. The familiar feeling crept back into your gut. Your intuition told you he was telling the truth.

“If you’ll let me,” he continued with a soft smile. “I would like to utilize my mutation for your benefit. Jean and I are telepaths. I can enter your mind which might help us deduce what exactly your mutation is.”

No wonder you could hear their voices echoing in your head over the clashing, thrumming rhythms. They were projecting them into your mind.

You must have looked uneasy, because Jean placed a hand on your gown-covered shoulder, attempting to reassure you.

“It doesn’t hurt, but you will feel his presence in your mind. We just want to help you,” she said.

Again, you looked to Logan, anxious for his reassurance. Upon catching your eyes, his expression softened and he nodded slightly, giving you the go-ahead to let them help you.

You fiddled with the top sheet, nervous. It crinkled under your touch. Only hours ago you had been trying to survive the freezing temperatures alone in the dark.

They were all looking at you, expectantly. Without Jean or the Professor in your mind, the volume of the beats returned, still discordant with one another.

“Okay,” you agreed, meekly. You did not want a repeat of what happened last night. The pain was too much to bear again.

You watched the Professor close his eyes. He knit his brows together, slightly, in concentration. There was a mental push in your mind, like somebody was knocking on the door, asking to be let in. You obliged. As he began combing through the files of your brain, searching for answers to whatever your new-found ‘mutation’ might hold, you noticed one of the rhythms sped up a hair quicker. Logan’s scowl returned, eyes laced with concern.

Jean was right, it didn’t hurt, but it did feel a bit like an intrusion. However, you knew it was all for your benefit and would be for the best in the long run. You kept your eyes on Charles Xavier the entire time, hoping your own concentration on him would be helpful in some way. After a few, long, minutes, the Professor retreated from your mind and opened his eyes again.

“Well, my dear, it seems you have a mental ability as well,” he began. “You have the ability to hear heartbeats that are in close proximity to yourself, and in turn deduce the intentions of another person.”

“That’s what the pounding is? Heartbeats?”

“You can hear all three of ours currently, correct?” he asked.

“Yes.” For some reason, it felt like you were violating their privacy. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and your hands returned to folding the sheets between your fingers.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, you know. You’re special. Like us,” Jean said, smiling gently. She grabbed a metal clipboard with complicated-looking charts attached to it, flipping over the pages until she found the form she was looking for. She took the pen from behind her ear and jotted something down. You assumed it was a description of your ‘mutation’, or ‘power’, or whatever they call it.

“Why is this happening to me?” You asked quietly into the air, to nobody in particular. Your eyes were still trained on your nervous fingers. The burning in your face grew stronger, an angry red. Hot tears stung your waterline and the tip of your nose prickled with emotion.

Logan unfolded his arms, causing you to watch him through tear-filled vision cross the room and sit on the edge of your unfamiliar bed. His heartbeat grew louder as he got closer. You could see his lips moving, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He looked at you expectantly, but all you could do was look at the Professor, silently asking for help. You watched him say something to Logan, probably telling him you couldn’t hear anything over the constant noise in your mind. The Professor closed his eyes again and again, the rhythms quieted to a hush. You looked back to Logan, the Professor still concentrating.

“You’re a mutant, kid. Simple as that,” he said, eyes full of tender but resolved concern. “But ‘m gonna take care of ya. Make sure y’r comfortable here.”

“H-here?” Your teary eyes went wide, your own heart speeding up anxiously. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna attend the school here with Jean an’ the Professor an’ me. You’ll learn how’da not let your power control you.”

“You’re a mutant too?”

“Especially him,” Jean cut in.

Logan gave her an irritated look, but raised both fists in front of his face. In a split second, long, metal claws shot out from between his knuckles into the open. You gasped. He carefully brought them down, letting you inspect them. You lightly pressed a delicate finger against the tip of one of the claws. It was freezing cold and razor sharp. A scarlet drop of blood fell from your fingerprint, staining the sterile sheet. He retracted the claws and you watched as the slits quickly stitched themselves back together.

It suddenly all became too much. The tears involuntarily spilled down your pink cheeks, overcome with the developments. Mutations, telepaths, claws … nothing made sense anymore. 

The quiet sobs wracked your small frame and as the emotions overtook you, the thrumming rhythms returned, making it all so much worse. Logan pulled you into his arms in a tight hug, pressing your head to his chest. His loud heartbeat was steady and strong. Reliable and solid. It overpowered everybody else’s rhythms, drowning them out. He let your tears soak through his once-pristine undershirt as you processed everything, his thumbs smoothing circles against your covered shoulder blades. You tried to focus on his grounding touch, tried to bring the tears to a halt. After what felt like an eternity, they finally slowed.

Finally, you pulled away from him. His heartbeat was still the only one you could hear. You looked around the metal room, swiping at your eyes. It was empty except for you and Logan. Jean and the Professor must have left some time ago, but you hadn’t heard their heartbeats soften.

He let go of you completely and picked up the chart Jean had been holding. He quickly scribbled something and flipped it to face you. ‘Feel better?’ he wrote.

You smiled and nodded, almost laughing at his solution to communication.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said. He only smiled in response, knowing you couldn’t hear him. “Now what?”

He held up a finger, asking for a moment, and reached toward the side table. He picked up a device that looked like a small disk, a couple inches thick. Pulling on either side revealed a metal wire that retracted back into the device when the disks were brought together again. The insides of the disks had padding in them. He brought it around behind your head and placed either end over your ears. 

Silence. Quiet. Peace.

You let out a sigh of relief. Logan’s pounding heartbeat was brought down to a manageable pulse. Even the rushing sound of the air conditioner and low hum of the electricity flowing through the lightbulbs couldn’t be heard anymore.

“Better?” He asked. 

You heard him! His voice was no longer fighting to be heard amongst the drum of his heartbeat. It was loud and clear. You burst into a smile.

“Yes,” you said, reaching back across the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck enthusiastically. He almost lost his balance against your grateful hug.

“C’mon, let’s go find Charles. Y’r gonna love it here.”

You let Logan lead you out of the lab and into the unknown for the second time in twenty-four hours. But this time it was different. You now knew that the trusting, gut-feeling you had about him was your mutation sensing his intentions all along. You knew he was going to make sure you were taken care of and continue to do so long into the future. It’s just the kind of man he is. The caregiver, the protector. He’s Logan.

[astarionxhappiness]

This is my first piece of writing in about five or so years, so thank you Astarion for giving me that fire again.

I did my best to find all the typos, but this was written on my phone at about 1 AM while half asleep, and autocorrect is a bitch, so bear with me.

Prompt: you have a bad past of sexual abuse, but catch feelings for Astarion.

Word Count: A little over 4,000 words

Warnings: mentions of sexual abuse if you squint a bit. Fluff. Lots of fluff.

The two of you had been traveling together for some time now. And while you had gotten of to a rocky start, you felt that you had grown a rather strong bond over the past months.

Though you supposed that facing constant and never ending threats, as well as having a tadpole connecting your very minds could do that to anyone.

Having to constantly put your life into another's hands like that. . All of your trust. And in turn, they offered you the same.

It had been years since you had felt such trust for a person. Such faith and warmth. And to a vampire spawn no less.

The thought made you smile to yourself with great amusement, biting your bottom lip absently and tugging.

Perhaps it wasn't even putting your trust in a vampire spawn. . Perhaps it felt funny to find yourself putting your trust in him.

"What's so funny?"

The words knocked you from your daze, bringing your attention back to the world around you.

The sound of the crackling fire, the uncomfortable log making your ass sore the longer you remained seated on it. The night air chilling your skin through the thin fabric of your tunic.

"Tav?" Astarion's voice sounded again, ever demanding. His tone made you look over at him quickly.

"You keep doing that today. . Are you falling ill or something?" You did not offer a response to this rhetorical question, knowing it was asked out of fussiness from being ignored, rather than genuine concern.

"I'm just thinking," you replied, glancing over at him again. "Nothing is funny."

You had had a hard time looking at him all day. You knew it had to do with the dream you had had the night before, though you were still having trouble admitting it to yourself.

The very memories of it made you feel flush.

"Oh?" He quirked a brow as he gazed at you from the corner of his eye, his head tilted back in a manner that showed off his jaw nicely.

"And what is it you're thinking about so intently then, hm? It must be something quite interesting to have you so distracted." The suggestive smile and knowing glint in his eye made you flush, looking away bashfully.

"Whatever you think it is, I can assure you it isn't that," you replied with vehemence, listening to him burst into musical laughter.

"Oh, it truly is so much fun to tease you, darling" he replied, tilting his head to look at you, a smile dancing on his lips that showed off his fangs.

"So what was it, then? If not the idea of me ravishing your body?" He had been making such jokes more and more for weeks now, but the immersion did nothing to stop your face from going red once more, forcing you to look away from him so he wouldn't see.

Not that it truly mattered. You knew he could tell exactly what your reaction was. Hence the reason he loved to make comments.

"Astarion, could I ask you something?" You found the nervous words leaving your mouth before you could stop them, making your body tense.

Your head remained bowed, gazing intently at your lap.

The smile fell from his lips, a look of uncertain curiosity taking place in his features instead.

"What's on your mind, darling?" He asked, making you wring your hands together.

"Do you. . Do you actually like being with people?" The question made him pause for just a moment before a smile cracked the far more real expression that had come before it.

A breathless laugh left his lips.

"Of course," he replied, unwilling to admit to the possibility that that was in fact a lie.

He felt the question was building to something more, and he was unwilling to make himself unavailable should you want him.

His eyes squinted slightly in curiosity when you offered little more than a nod of your head, wringing your hands together.

"So. . So you enjoy. . Being touched?" You glanced over at him, tensing harder when you found his inquisitive gaze already looking back at you.

"Why are you asking me these things my sweet?" He asked. "Is it perhaps. . Because you really would like for me to touch you?" He brought his hand out to very lightly cover your wrist, making your breath catch.

Silence grew thickly between the two if you as your response to the question remained stuck firmly in your throat.

You startled violently when footsteps sounded from off to your left, followed by Wyll's voice.

"Are you two coming to eat? Gale's just finished cooking. " He hesitated as he spoke, watching Astarion's hand slide subtly off your wrist.

"I am actually not feeling particularly well," you replied, flustered as you got to your feet. "Excuse me." They both watched you go, having similar expressions if uncertainty as Astarion stood up next to Wyll.

You remained in your tent for the remainder of the evening, listening to the others talking and laughing over warm food.

You shivered absently as you laid on your bedroll, the thick furs feeling less warm than usual. You hoped that it was simply the nights getting colder, but you had a feeling it was rather your thoughts giving the impression of warmth leaving your body.

You shut your eyes, your fingers tracing the palm of your other hand tucked by your face as you heard Astarion reciting one of his favorite stories to the others, undoubtedly keeping the company of a nice glass of wine.

The tips of your fingers traced down to your wrist where his hand had covered just a few hours before, your mind wandering back to the dream that had corrupted your thinking all day.

You had sworn off touch long ago. Your experience with it being only violent and cruel.

You did not want it.

A simple brush of the shoulder led to temptation of touching one's arm. Then, perhaps the urge to move in closer. Feel their breath against your skin, inhale their scent. .

These were temptations that people seemed incapable to control.

No! You wouldn't risk it! Not again! Not ever again.

You would not be used for another's pleasure.

And yet. . Astarion had touched you, had he not? Not just tonight, but other times as well. Whether it was catching you mid trip, protecting you in a fight . . even waking you from a nightmare or two. .

You took in a deep breath as these memories crossed your mind. The feel of his hands clutching your shoulders, his soothing, concerned voice as he tried to calm you down.

You had felt faint that night, waking with the air out of your lungs.

You had fallen against him, your hands shaking, weakly grasping at his arms as you tried not to faint. You could still feel the sensation of your temple resting against his broad chest. The feeling of his cool hand coming to rest on the side if your head.

He had never stopped talking while you worked through your panic attack. Plenty of it was not actually comforting, but the simple sound of his voice grounded you. And his touch made you feel drunk.

You had pushed those feelings away after that night. but after your dream, after the vivid sensation of his touch against your skin, his soft voice easing your tension. . You knew the sensation. It was too vivid not to have been spawned from a memory.

That feeling of safety. . Never had you expected to ever feel it in your life. .

You bit your lip as you curled in on yourself, wrapping an arm around your torso.

If your fears were right, and all touching always led to pain and violence, then why had Astarion never tried anything?

Even tonight, the touch had been. . Gentle. Hesitant, almost. Offering the option for you to pull away if you so pleased.

But you didn't. Something about it felt right. Like having a taste of water when you didn't realize just how thirsty you were.

Perhaps. . Just maybe, it was possible to find safety with him.

You trusted him with your life, after all.

And from things he had told you in the past, you got the feeling he would understand the fear you had of being taken advantage of more than anyone.

Your attention was grabbed by the sounds of everyone getting ready to head to bed, most likely due to the rain that had begun falling, making it's presence known to you by tapping rhythmically against your tent.

You bit your lip, feeling your stomach twisting at the resolve you made.

You would just ask him. What was the worst that could happen?-

You had to stop your brain from answering this question.

It took you a little under ten minutes to harden your resolve.

You kicked off the thick fur blanket, stuffed your feet in your unlaced boots, and headed for the vampire's tent across the camp from yours.

Except, by the time your feet stopped in front of his tent, your resolve had weakened once more, leaving you standing in the dark with rain slowly absorbing into the thin layers of your clothes.

You were already shaking with nerves by the time that thunder boomed in the sky so loudly it had you yelping in surprise, your mind having been far more preoccupied with other things than the lightning overhead. flinging yourself through the flap of fabric that covered the entrance of his tent, you froze as you laid eyes on the man laying in the dim lamp light.

Your entrance made Astarion look up with a start from the spot on his bed, his finger marking the page of his book he had been reading.

He looked confused by your odd entrance, though your meek posture and flushed skin made him smile at you. It rather made your head dizzy and your feet want to run.

"Hello, beautiful," he greeted, his tone ever seductive. "I figured I would be seeing you again tonight." He shut his book in a way that had you wondering how many times he had practiced the motion in order to get just the right amount of seduction out of it.

He was. . Everything that you were not in such moments.

Confident, charismatic, smooth and seductive. Experienced, and more or less functioning.

You looked down, hands clasped before you.

"I-i didn't mean to bother you," you whispered, finding yourself far more nervous than you normally were.

"I just. . I wanted to ask you. ." You shut your eyes as your cheeks went bright red.

He couldn't help but notice the soft tremor rattling your body. Your meek position was not one he often saw you possessing. Only in moments when you were truly terrified or nervous about something.

It was, much to his horror, rather.. endearing.

He had only seen you in such a state a spare few times, but when he did, he had the odd urge to handle whatever it was causing it.

And in this case, he felt certain that the thing causing you trouble, he could definitely take care of.

He stood up, moving over to you, making your heart beat quicken with nerves.

He had a way of looming that made you want to flee.

When you flinched back from him, suddenly rethinking if your request was such a good idea, you watched to your great surprise as he took a step back, frowning.

"Are you scared of me?" He asked with sudden realization.

The action had not been made out of anticipation, or longing. No. . People did not flinch like that unless they expected something unpleasant to happen.

You looked up at him with round, horrified eyes.

"No!" You replied quickly, your body trembling a bit harder.

"I- no, of course not, I just-" he turned his head to the right slightly as he continued to look at you, frowning as he brows furrowed.

"I just get- nervous, with people. . Touching me," you finally managed to get out, sounding royally ashamed.

You had survived an illithid tadpole swimming around in your skull, the crashing of a ship you you were on only because of being abducted, countless perilous fights, and even knocked the head off of one or two goblins without ever skipping a beat.

But this. Proximity to someone that had never once tried to murder you, or handle you in a way you didn't want to be handled. . This terrified you?

It was only then that he realized you had always avoided being touched by others. You had never shown interest in any form of romance, or even friendly pats on the shoulder by the others in your little party.

You had always managed to casually and seamlessly avoid such interactions.

"Why do you get nervous being touched?" He asked, though he had his suspicions. "I assure you, love, there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of." He offered his hand out to you, but made no further attempt at contact. Remaining a respectful distance from you.

You looked away, a part of you desperately wanting to reach out and grasp his hand, feel the sensation that you had found yourself desperate to for.

You did not, however. You remained rigidly shaking in place as you looked away.

"You. . You said that Cazador, . . That he made you do things you didn't want to do? With him? And. . Others? " You whispered nervously.

It had been a conversation you had had with him some weeks ago, out on a ledge relaxing beneath the stars while the others slept.

He frowned at the mention, dropping his hand when the offer was not accepted.

"Yes," he replied, seeming slightly more guarded. "Why?"

You tensed as another roar of thunder raged in the sky, your eyes shutting.

"Well- someone. . Someone did things to me. To hurt me, and- and use me-" you looked up at him, eyes round and nervous, a part of you expecting to be met with disgust.

The expression you were met with however, was one of a silent understanding. The defense in his gaze softened.

Though the bitterness remained, you felt certainty that it was not directed towards you.

"I see," he replied, his suspicions finally being confirmed.

"So why are you here, then?" He tilted his head back slightly. "Trying to rewrite the pain in your past?" He guessed. "Well, I'm okay with that. Happy to be of service, darling." He offered you a charming smile as his weight shifted to one hip, his hand coming up to hang loosely at the wrist.

"No, actually," you replied, watching the false happiness slip off his features. "I-. . I wanted to ask if. . You would want. . " you scrunched your face, looking tortured.

"I can read your thoughts if you'd rather not say it aloud," he offered when you fell silent.

You looked only more pained by this offer, but nodded mutely, opening your mind to him as the request was caught in your throat.

He shut his eyes was he felt the connection take hold, swimming in your thoughts to latch on to the question stuck in your mind.

"Do I want to cuddle?" He demanded in confusion, taking an affronted step back, letting out a breathless laugh as he looked at you.

You tensed, shaking just a little harder at his reaction, your stomach twisting in a manner that made you glad you had not eaten that evening.

"I-. . No one's ever asked me that before," he went on, the vehemence in his voice dissipating as he looked at you, features taking on more trouble attributes.

He looked at you quietly, your small form shivering, your clothes clinging to your body wetly, making him wonder how long you had been outside his tent, too scared to come in and ask for such an odd. . Innocent, request.

The strange part was, it. . Sounded rather pleasant.

You had never asked anything of him before. You offered loyalty to him and never asked for anything in return. Not even his own loyalty to you.

You had fought for him. Saved him. Cared for his wounds, and been there for him in moments when he felt he could open up.

"I-" he hesitated as you stayed silently staring at him, waiting for something bad to happen.

He did not need an tadpole to read the nervousness and fear in your mind.

"-i think I would rather like tjat," he found himself genuinely admitting.

He offered his hand again to you, his demeanor soft and delicate. The same demeanor he had offered when he held you when you couldn't catch a healthy rhythm with your breathing.

You looked down at his hand, hesitantly stepping forward and putting your hand over his, feeling a rush if excitement and longing rush through you as you felt his fingers wrap gently around your hand.

You took another step closer to him, your mind almost blank as you shut your eyes, and wordless pressed your body against his in a gentle, soothing hug.

He hesitated as you did this, fairly certain no one had ever hugged him before this very moment.

It felt. . Warm. . Comforting, almost.

Safe.

He wrapped his arm around you after a moment of uncertainty, the hold tenuous and hesitant.

He kept your hand in his, pressed between your bodies up against your chests.

He shut his eyes, feeling himself melting into the embrace.

When you pulled away finally and looked up at him, he quietly used your hand still in his to tug you with him towards the bed on the ground. He sat down on top of the blanket, looking up at you wordlessly, his hand still tenderly grasping yours.

You took in a deep breath, looking down at him intently as you sat on the ground in front of him on folded legs, taking in another deep breath with nervous giddiness from the proximity.

It felt just as you had dreamed it. The warmth, the tenderness. .

You leaned forward for what Astarion instinctively expected to be a kiss, but found himself freezing when you pressed your forehead tenderly against his, your eyes shutting.

The soft little breaths you took in to try and calm yourself, soaking up the touch in a manner that clearly felt euphoric- it was not things that went unnoticed by the vampire spawn.

You were. . Positively adorable. The gentle way you hesitantly brought your hands up to let the very tips of your fingers touch either side of his face. The soft, earnest expression you wore as you soaked up the feeling of being touched . .

He shut his eyes, bringing his hands up to gently cover your hands, feeling your tadpole reaching out to his, should he want it.

Curious, he reached out, and felt himself tale an inhale as a feeling of warmth washed over him.

Feelings of care, and trust. understanding, and longing.

But not for the thing most people wanted from him. . It was a longing to be to see, as well as be seen. A longing for understanding.

He brought his hand to press against the mid of your back, gentle and coaxing, you slowly agreed to the request, and let him guide your body to press against his.

The touch felt so different than usual. Perhaps it was the connection of the tadpole, but it felt warm, and safe

You felt safe.

He had never felt such a sensation before in his life. To genuinely trust someone. To care for them.

There were small, subtle glimpse of pain in your thoughts. Ones that he found he wanted to prod at further, but resisted.

He brushed his nose against yours mindlessly, and you returned the action, feeling entranced as he opened his own mind mind you in return, letting you see how cared for you were with him.

You melted further into the touch, slipping your arms around his back, a hand coming up to the back of his hair mindlessly to play with the soft silver locks.

He brought his hands to your sides, keeping you pressed against him as he carefully headed backwards so you rested down on top of him, his fingers coming to run along the divot of your spine.

Wrapping your leg around him, you settled comfortably against him, the heaviness of your body on top of him feeling like a pleasant weighted blanket.

He let his hands roam along your wet clothes before making their way into your damp hair.

He wanted to ask how long exactly you had been out there to have gotten so wet, be he refrained, simply listening to the rain hit the tent as you both soaked up the comforting touch.

You folded the blanket up around the two of you after a time, and felt him roll you both a moment later.

You opened your eyes softly to look at him, gently resting your forehead against his once kore, though there was no tadpole connecting you this time.

"If you ever want someone," you whispered, bringing your fingers up to tenderly touch his cheek. "If you ever want to talk, or just. . Have someone to be with, I am here." You brushed your nose against his, watching his lids fall half closed.

He looked like he wanted to respond, but was perhaps, for the first time in his life, at a loss for words.

He felt an overwhelming sense for gratitude towards the offer. He had told you things before, but it had been in moments of weakness, or because it was necessary.

He had never shared just because.

"Well," he finally whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "This. . Offer, goes for you as well." He looked down, clearly trying his best, but having a hard time with more vulnerability.

"Thank you," you murmured, inching a little closer. "I'm. . Astarion, I'm so sorry, for everything you had to go through." The words were spoken with great feeling, your heart aching thinking about of of the things be had admitted to happening.

"It's in the past now, well isn't it," he replied, stroking your cheek. "But. . Thank you, love," he added with a great deal more hesitancy.

You smiled slightly, which he found did odd things to his insides.

He sighed mentally to himself. He was not going to allow himself to feel things things for you- he couldn't.

You were just-

His breathing froze as you shifted up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and head as you shifted him so his head rested against your chest, the position feeling incredibly shielding and warm.

He felt his stomach twist, his throat strangely tight.

He wrapped his arm around your torso hesitantly after a moment, apprehensive.

No one had ever- held him before. It was not how this worked-

And yet. . He found his eyes falling shut with sudden exhaustion.

He cursed you, unsure what exactly it was about your touch that had him feeling so. . Melty. But it was unaccept-

Singing?

His ears perked up slightly, distracted from his thoughts as a sweet, soft melody gripped his attention instead.

His body eased to rest more heavily against you as his muscles relaxed.

Perhaps. . It would be okay just to relax and enjoy for a little while? And then he could get back to his plotting and manipulations later. .

He took in a deep breath, feeling your fingers touching his hair tentatively, running the tips of them through the outer layers of the silvery strands.

The soft vibration of your chest as you switched between signing and humming different parts of the song had him entranced.

You kept your gaze on him as you did so, feeling your stomach twisting with giddiness.

This had been it. It was just like you had dreamed. . The feeling of his arms around you, the dim light of the lantern casting calming shadows.

The tender, warm touch with none of the unpleasantness.

It was everything you had been craving and more.

You shut your eyes after a time, feeling him slowly heating against you as he slipped off into peaceful slumber.

You slipped down sleepily after nearly an hour of just enjoying the position of holding him safely in your arms.

You felt him shift in his sleep as you settled down against him, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you close.

You pressed your forehead against his softly, eyes shutting, feeling his breath tickle your face with every slow exhale.

You let your leg rest loosely in-between his, wrapping your arm around his waist before settling.

You slipped off a little while later to join him in slumber, the soft drumming of the rain and rumbling thunder in the distance lulling you to sleep.

[bonesxbows]

Surgery of a Hope (Astarion x Reader)

My Masterlist

Someone dared to try to lay a hand on you and Astarion finds out. He leaves Gale to comfort you while he goes and "takes care" of it. Or alternatively, Astarion is trying to show you he loves you in one of the only ways he knows how; by killing.

(WARNINGS) - mentions of sexual assault/assault (depending on how you look at it), but does not go into a lot of detail - crying/breakdown - trauma responses

If you have any triggers relating to assault or past assault please be careful reading this. I have not personally experienced what is written here but it is loosely based on trauma of my own and the goal was to write something to act as a comfort for myself and whoever else needs to read something like this. But please tread carefully, I didn't write this with the intent of triggering anyone.

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy and I hope reading this can help someone else like writing it helped me :) Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

-

You sat on the ground inside your tent, nestled in the corner of the fabric, your knees pulled up to your chest. You were slowly rocking back and forth, replaying the traumatic events of the day in your head. Your body was present, but your mind was lost in its own little world, your eyes glassed over. You didn't notice Astarion barge into your tent, a bubble of excitement coming with him.

“Darling! I've been waiting all day to have a moment with you all to myself. I-” His sentence and his body stopped dead in their tracks when his eyes finally found you, a sad little ball of limbs shoved into the corner. His voice startled you out of your daze. He walked closer towards you and reached out a hand, but you jumped in response to him approaching and shuffled yourself deeper into the corner, as far away from him as you possibly could get. He frowned. He recognized your fear, he remembered acting like you were doing now once before and that worried him.

“Astarion, wait. I…wait. Please, don't come any closer.” You spilled out your words quickly. Your eyes were glued to his outstretched hand, wide like a gnoll staring down a wall of fire, and tears started to pool underneath them.

“What’s wrong my love?” He hated when you cried. He was getting better at learning how to comfort you but he still got nervous about making it worse. His frown deepened but he respected your request and instead knelt down where he was, keeping his distance from you.

“I…um…” you stumbled over your words, your mouth becoming dry and thick, like someone had shoved cotton down your throat. You tried to blink away the tears but they were now two hot waterfalls running down your face.

“It’s alright, you can tell me. What happened?” You looked like a scared animal and it reminded him too much of how he used to feel. He was concerned, but he was also angry. He had a feeling he already knew what had happened to you and the thought of him being right made him burn with rage inside. You took a shaky breath and did your best to speak coherently.

“Someone…um, someone tried to touch me earlier when we were in town. I…I tried to stop them, tried to fight them off. Some things were said and…and…” Your story ended there as the sobs racked your body aggressively. You buried your head in your arms, wrapping your hands around your shoulder to try to comfort yourself as you rocked back and forth, crying and screaming and sobbing loudly. Astarion swore he could feel his undead heart shatter. He could do nothing but sit there and watch as you poured out your emotions. He knew from experience that if he tried to comfort you it would only make the situation worse, but he felt helpless just sitting there and doing nothing. So he reached over and yanked your blanket off of your cot, folding it up haphazardly and placing it between the two of you, nudging your foot with the fabric, doing his best not to touch you.

You poked your head up slightly, eyeing him. You saw the blanket, your blanket, and how Astarion sat back on his heels, a comforting smile on his face. You unfurled a hand from your cocoon of limbs and reached forward slowly, grabbing the blanket tentatively, as if even the soft material would snap back at you as well. But it didn't, so you pulled it into your lap on top of your knees and buried your head into the comfort of it, sniffing the familiar scent of Astarion’s cologne that had rubbed off on it from his constant nights spent in your tent with you. You used a corner of it to wipe away your tears and tried to focus on steadying your breathing. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Astarion and he nodded his head.

“Do you think you can manage to remember who it was, my love? Can you tell me what they looked like?” he asked you softly. He wanted to reach out and grab your hand in his, but he stayed still for now. He would not touch you until you were ready and asked him to, no matter how much he wanted to. You began to shake your head furiously.

“No. Astarion, no. It was nothing, really. You don't need to do anything. It was my fault anywa-” He cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

“Do not even finish that statement darling. None of this is your fault. None of it. Do you understand? Now, what did they look like?” his face was like stone, serious and deadly. It didn't scare you, not anymore at least, but you knew trying to argue with him at this point was futile. You were so confused and upset you did not know what the right thing to do was so you trusted Astarion and told him everything you could remember. You watched as he took off his jacket and moved closer to you. But he stopped just before he got too close.

“Is it alright if I touch you my sweet?” He asked before he did anything and you nodded, although slowly. He leaned forward to drape his jacket over your shoulders and pull it up over your neck. Your fingers fumbled at first but you grabbed it and pulled it as close to your skin as you could, relishing in the warmth and comfort radiating off of the velvet fabric.

“Stay here, alright? I’ll tell Gale to accompany you here inside of your tent so you don't have to be alone. I promise I’ll be back before morning.” He leaned forward again to kiss you gently on your forehead and you didn't jerk away this time. He smiled warmly at you but his ruby eyes shone with anger and malice. He began to stand up and head for the entry flap of your tent.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You jumped from surprise and began to reach for him but stopped abruptly when his jacket began to fall off of your shoulders and instead quickly grabbed it again and pulled it back up around you. You were afraid to be alone, even with Gale. You only felt safe around Astarion. Your sense of security was so shattered you were hesitant to trust anyone except him. He turned back around before he left.

“Promise me you'll stay here with Gale.” no, you wanted to go with him, wherever he was going. You wanted his warmth and to be in his arms with him by your side protecting you, no one else.

“But I-” he cut you off again. He was not looking for any arguments tonight.

“Promise me, my love.” there was no arguing with the look in his eyes and there was no changing his mind about whatever he had set his mind on doing. “I promise.” you choked out, trying not to cry again at the thought of him leaving you right now.

“Good. I’ll be back as soon as I can alright? Then I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.” You watched him leave, trying to blink away the tears that threatened to flow. You gripped his jacket even tighter and breathed in the smell of his cologne again, it was an even stronger scent on his jacket than on your blanket. A few moments after Astarion left Gale walked in, smiling sympathetically. He somehow juggled a bowl, two mugs, and a stack of books in his hands without dropping anything.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. You didn't give an answer and watched as he sat where Astarion once was just a minute ago and placed all of the things in his hands in front of him, between the two of you.

“We don't have to talk if you'd rather not. But I thought you might like a distraction while Astarion is away. My time is yours.” You looked at him and he looked sincere, but you were still a little wary. But this was Gale, someone who had stuck by your side from the very beginning and had been nothing but respectful and helpful ever since. You gazed over what he had brought with him, there was what appeared to be stew in the bowl and the two mugs were filled with tea and still steaming. The books were ones you recognized, titles you had once borrowed from him and had told him you had enjoyed immensely. Books that you knew, that were familiar, and there was comfort in familiarity. He knew this. Gale was your best friend, he was the second person to know just about everything about you. You were grateful that his memory was impeccable and that he had remembered all of your favorite things, especially at a time like now.

“What kind of soup is that?” you asked. The tears had subsided, for now. He was glad you were up to talking, it was going to be a long night for him if he had to sit here in silence the whole time.

“Vegetable and sausage. And that’s peppermint tea, with sugar, just how you like it. I've also brought your favorite books, but I can fetch something else if reading isn't up to your liking currently.” He stole a pillow from the pile off of your bed and propped himself up against the side of your tent, still an agreeable distance away from you. Astarion must have given him the details of your jumpiness and sensitivity to touch right now. You couldn't help but smile just a little.

“The books are alright for now, Gale. Thank you.” You reached forward for one of the mugs and chose one of the books from the stack as you did so.

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything else, alright? Im not going anywhere until Astarion gets back.” you nodded and took a sip from the mug, the tea warming your scratchy throat on the way down. You opened the book to the first page and Gale did the same with his own book.

Eventually the warm tea, familiar story, and comfort of Astarion’s scent lulled you into a sleep. Your body was exhausted from the day’s events and the extensive crying you had done earlier. Gale had stayed with you the entire night, within arms reach just in case you needed him, even when the rough ground began to irritate his old human body. He had even lit the candles in your tent after the sun had set just so you would not be in complete darkness if you woke up in the middle of the night.

-

You were never a heavy sleeper, but now you were even more anxious in your sleep after what had happened. A dull thud had woken you up and you heard the sound of water splashing. Your eyes fluttered open quickly but your heart calmed down when you saw the back of a familiar white shirt and white curls in the candlelight. Astarion had returned at some point, before morning just like he had promised, but his back was turned to you and he was knelt in front of your washing bucket.

“Astarion? Is that you?” you asked groggily. Your voice was thick with sleep but you were wide awake, grateful that he was back already.

“Go back to sleep darling, it’s alright.” he spoke sweetly to you like always, but he stayed with his back to you, working something onto the wash board inside the tub.

“Where have you been?” you sat up, blinking away the remaining sleep in your eyes and trying to focus on what he was doing. A part of you already had a guess of where he had been for the last few hours but you asked anyway, not wanting to believe what you knew was already true.

“No where you need to worry your pretty little head about, everything’s alright.” he told you, but you were too curious now to go back to sleep. Astarion hated chores, yet here he was scrubbing laundry in the middle of the night. You stood up quietly and padded over to him, still holding onto his jacket around your shoulders. You leaned over his shoulder and observed. He was holding on to a different white shirt than the one on his back currently, scrubbing furiously as the soapy water turned pink. Now that you were closer you also noticed the way the candlelight shined against black spots in his hair, a stark difference against his bleach white curls. You frowned slightly, accepting your previous conclusion as the truth now.

“Is that blood?” you asked. You already knew the answer but you wanted to hear it from him.

“No.” he tried to deny the obvious, though he already knew you wouldn't believe the white lie.

“Astarion.” you said sternly, gently warning him to tell you the truth this time.

“Alright maybe it is. But the bastard deserved it.” he stopped scrubbing and so you sat down on the ground behind him. He turned to look at you, abandoning the shirt in the dirty water.

“What did you do?” your voice was calm. You didn't mind he had taken matters into his own hands, in fact you were secretly grateful.

“I taught him a much needed lesson my love. He won’t be hurting anyone ever again.” his lips turned up into his signature killer smile. He was proud of himself for the kill, as per usual. You wanted to thank him, say something, anything, to convey how relieved you felt, but the words got caught in your throat. His smile faltered a little when he noticed the pool of tears forming in your eyes, but he knew you were okay from the small smile that was stuck on your face.

He dunked his hands back into the water to wash the rest of the blood off and then dried them on his pants before outstretching a hand to you, silently asking for yours. You obliged, placing your hand in his. He brought it up to his face and placed a gentle kiss on your knuckle. You couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up from his gesture, the smile on your face growing despite the tears that started to flood your face. You were safe. Even after all that had happened, you were safe with Astarion.

[redroses07]

The Rock Show // Finn Wolfhard

Finn Wolfhard x Fem!Reader

WC: 2k

Based on/lyrics from 'The Rock Show' By Blink-182

Warnings: Swearing, Kissing

Summary: Finn falls in love with a girl at one of his shows, but does she feel the same?

A/N: I know I said I'd post this last night but I didn't have time to make my last few edits. Anyways, It's out now! This is also based on one of my favorite songs (I'll link it below) so it was super fun to write! This is the first time I've written for Finn in a while so I hope y'all like it! -Claire ♡

You stand outside the concert venue with your friend. Her boyfriend was the drummer for some band that was playing tonight, and she was intent on you coming along.

“Maybe you’ll meet a cute guy.” She teased, an obnoxious smirk on her face.

“Yeah, right.” you rolled your eyes, elbowing her playfully.

It was a small indoor venue, yet the line was still wrapped around the building. Luckily your friend’s boyfriend could get you special access through the back door.

When you saw the flight of stairs leading up to the stage door, you immediately regretted the heels you were wearing.

You followed closely behind your friend, unsure of where to go.

“Y/N hurry up!” Your friend called to you from the top of the stairs. You thought about how much you envied her comfy tennis shoes.

She held up the pass her boyfriend had given her, opening the door with ease.

The inside was stuffy, and even though the show hadn’t started, you could still hear the sound of the crowd cheering.

ultraviolet lights littered the ceiling, giving the area a purple glow. You could see the curtains pulled over the stage, blocking the crowd's view.

You were careful to watch for the cords strewn across the floor, connecting electric guitars and other equipment.

As soon as your friend saw her boyfriend sitting at his drum set she ran up to him excitedly, leaving you standing awkwardly backstage. You didn’t mind her going to see him of course, but you didn’t technically know anyone else back there and were worried about being thrown out.

“Hey, are you playing tonight? I’ve never seen you here before.” A voice pulled you away from your thoughts.

You turned your head to see a tall boy with messy dark hair. He had a guitar slung over his shoulder, and a mic attached to his shirt, so he clearly was playing tonight.

He was cute.

“Oh, um, no-“ You stumbled over your words, forgetting how to speak for a moment.

“I’m here with her.” You managed to say, pointing at your friend.

The boy smiled kindly, once he saw who you were pointing to.

“Third wheeling I see?”

You scuffed your heels against the floor nervously.

“Yeah, she made me come. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing now though. And clearly I look out of place too.” You said half jokingly.

The boy wore a look of surprise, which changed into embarrassment.

“Oh no, no that’s not why I started talking to you, I actually just thought you were pretty.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

You felt your face get hot, and you found yourself unable to look him in the eye.

“Thank you.” You said, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Shit, sorry if that was too forward, what’s your name?”

You giggled, finding the courage to make eye contact again.

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“Finn. Nice to meet you Y/N.”

You blushed, standing in awkward silence.

"What time do you go on?" You asked.

You wanted to make sure you didn't miss him playing.

"Around 11."

Maybe you would have to stay longer than you anticipated. Although, now you had something to look forward to, so maybe it wouldn't be half bad.

"I'll be there," you smiled.

Finn ran his hand through his hair, curls flopping over his face. He was quick to brush them away, keeping his eyes glued to you the whole time.

The background noise heightened, and you heard someone yell for all the players, no matter what time their sets started, to hurry up.

"Shit, I've gotta go...but you have good seats tonight right?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, right up front." Having a connection to one of the players did have its perks.

"Okay! Hold on a second!" Finn ran out of the room leaving you standing around awkwardly for a second time.

You peered through the door he ran through, eagerly waiting for him to come back. That is, if he was coming back at all. You were thoroughly confused and decided to lean back against the wall while you waited. Maybe you'd blend in better that way.

Finn came flying back around the corner, the guitar that was strapped around him swaying slightly.

"I couldn't find any paper, so is it okay if I write on your arm?" He held up a black sharpie, one of the big ones you'd use to write on posters with.

"Uh sure?" At this point you wondered if turning away was a better option, but nonetheless, you let him take your arm.

You watched as Finn frantically scribbled a few letters and numbers down on your arm. When he lets your arm go, you squinted at the messy black writing.

"That's the venue I'm playing at tomorrow. If you like what you see tonight, come tomorrow and I'll take you out afterwards."

You looked at your arm and smiled at the gesture.

"You know you could've just written it in my phone right?" You laughed.

"This is way cooler." Finn replied with a toothy grin.

"I really have to go now." He began to walk backwards towards the stage.

"Hopefully I'll be seeing you soon." Finn shot two finger guns at you before turning around and rushing off.

You were left alone once more, but you no longer felt awkward. You were too preoccupied with the butterflies in your stomach.

"Come on let's go- what's that?" Your friend asked, a suspicious smirk appeared on her face.

"I'll explain later."

You rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed her hand, dragging her towards the hoard of people.

You surfed through the crowd, finally reaching the front of the pit below the stage. You were close enough to where you could reach up and touch the stage if you wanted.

You stayed in the same spot for most of the show, and time passed rather quickly. The music was enjoyable, but you had to admit that you were waiting for Finn to show up.

Finally, when the lights filled the room, signaling that another set was beginning, you saw him. He was standing center stage, guitar in one hand, microphone in the other.

You don't know how, but he managed to spot you among-st all the people. He winked in your direction, and you could feel your face light up.

Finn's singing voice definitely kept you interested, more than you had been all night. And if you weren't already convinced to go out with him, his guitar skills sealed the deal.

At the end of the night your friend called a cab, your feet hurt far too much to walk back to your apartment. During the ride you rambled to her about the cute boy you had met backstage, and how glad you were that you let her drag you along.

She argued that this gave her best friend bragging rights for at least a week. You scoffed, but agreed.

The minute you got home, you changed your clothes and crashed in your bed; already excited for the date you would surely be going on the next day.

From the moment you woke up, you were riddled with excitement. The show wasn't until late but you started getting ready around mid-day.

When the time finally came, you could feel the nerves coursing through your veins. But they were good nerves, as good as nerves could be of course.

You arrived at the venue alone, not the safest option but you were careful. You made your way up front about fifteen minutes before the show started so you didn't have to push through as many people.

The place was more like a club considering most of the attendees were standing and there were hardly any seats, save for the few in the back.

In what seemed like no time at all, the show began.

Finn was center stage yet again, and you could see him scanning the room. You hoped he was looking for you.

He had yet to spot you before starting the first song, which was an upbeat ballad. You bobbed your head along to the beat of the music, relaxing into the environment.

Finn's voice was like honey, each word flowing off of his lips beautifully.

Once the song was over, he approached the microphone.

"Thank you all for coming out here tonight." He scanned the room once more, but this time he did see you. His face lit up, just as it had the night before.

"This next song is a cover, and it reminds me a lot of someone I just recently met." His deep brown eyes never left yours.

He began to sing, a wide smile on his face as he did.

"I fell in love with a girl at the rock show, she said "what?" and I told her that I didn't know."

You smiled at the lyrics, surprised by how much you felt for this boy you had known no more than a day.

You let yourself float closer to the stage, still keeping your eyes on Finn. He was clearly focused on his guitar, playing through the riff before starting to sing again.

Finn noticed you standing below the stage and began to navigate towards you.

"And if I ever got another chance, I'd still ask her to dance. Because she kept me waiting."

He leaned down, knees hitting the floor. He continued to sing, doing everything he could to inch closer to you while he did.

You reached up, grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him down further. Half of his body was hanging off of the stage, yet he still continued to sing.

"With the girl at the rock show..." His singing voice became breathy and strained.

The song ended and Finn pulled you up on stage with him. You could feel your heart beating with anticipation. Just like that, he pulled you into a messy kiss. The crowd erupted into applause, cheers, and even a few whistles could be heard. It was too brief for you to really enjoy the kiss, but it was perfect nonetheless.

When you broke apart, Finn leaned into you and whispered in your ear.

"Go wait backstage, I'll see you in a bit."

You smiled at him, and made the bold decision to kiss him on the cheek. The crowd cheered once more, and you took that as your queue to exit.

You sure would never forget tonight.

[animeismyhappyplace]

Who knew missing a work meeting could lead to this?!

Y/N misses one of Port Mafia Executive Chuuya Nakahara's team meetings so she must explain herself to him, he invites her back to his place under the guise she needs to help him with paperwork when smut ensues.

This is my own work not a reblog! Please do not repost or translate without permission as I've worked very hard on this!

TW - Minors DNI!

daddy kink, pet names, bondage play. Might be a lil OOC I've never written for Chuuya before or written kink smut so be kind 🙏

Word Limit: just over 4K 🥵

Y/N had been avoiding her supervisor officer all week, she had deliberately missed his most recent bi weekly round up meeting and she knew he'd be pissed at her for it. She'd rounded a corner in the main Port Mafia building when she heard a stern voice speak out "Why didn't you come to the meeting we had?" she sighs and looks down at her shoes suddenly finding them very interesting "Can we go to your office sir? I'd feel much more comfortable talking in private?" She hadn't even turned to look at him yet before she heard him mumble a non committal "Whatever" listening as his shoes hit against the marble floors so she turned and followed him down the small corridor. When they finally reached his office he ushered her in pushing gently at her lower back as she took in his office, not for the first time and probably not the last time, it's walls were painted in a sleek grey and silver theme very minimalist if she did think so herself but exactly what one may expect from a Port Mafia executive she thought as she sat in the black office chair across from his own. As he sat down she could see the annoyance that burned across his face at having to have another meeting about this topic which was cutting into his personal time, his fingers thumped against his desk as he looked across to her "So? What do you have to say for yourself this time L/N?" She gulped at his tone before responding sheepishly "I wasn't actually sure I'd need to come honestly, I've felt kind of sidelined on recent missions and wasn't sure I was strong enough to be classed as your subordinate. I know my ability can be useful but I don't know..." She trails off as she looks to the side focusing on a rather small speck of dust on his computer screen until she hears his huff wearily "You're not being sidelined, you're just getting more experience." he says sternly before taking a sip of what looked like some variation of a red wine. "And besides, you're doing great work so far you just lack confidence." The woman can't help but pout slightly at her mentors words as true as they may be that doesn't stop the string that hits her chest and settled in the cracks of her heart "it doesn't feel that way honestly sir" she can't look him in the eyes when she's still so unsure of her place on his team, it's a highly sought after post she knows this but maybe that's what makes it hurt more knowing she's not good enough for it yet.

He watches her crestfallen face for a moment before he replies "It does feel good that you're here, trust me." his tone softens slightly but there is still an edge to it "I'm sorry I disappointed you sir...it won't happen again! Did I miss much? maybe you could give me a recap now if you're able" she pleads to her mentor to not give up on her just yet "We were discussing our next week..." He pauses for a moment before continuing "...and then someone interrupted us by saying they wanted to talk about their feelings about certain member of the team..." he takes another sip of his wine before he begins again "she wants to quit now" shock racks across her face "That's not good, we can't afford to lose any more members especially if they keep going to the ADA, I'll...talk with whoever it is maybe I can change their mind!" She offers up her suggestion hastily "No, no," he shakes his head quickly "Don't bother talking to her, let her go, we don't need anyone who isn't loyal anymore." he stares at her intently "Just tell her that she needs to stay or else she'll regret it later." She gulps as she nods understanding the severity of wanting the leave the mafia "Of course sir. I'll pass the message on" she stutters out. "Good girl." She can't help but flush pink at the term, he's never called her anything like that before.

He smiles faintly as he leans back in his chair "Now then, what else should we discuss?" his eyes wander around the room for a second before returning to look directly into her e/c eyes "Do you know why Higuchi wants to leave?" he asks calmly yet firmly "N-no sir why?" "Because she didn't agree with your plans for the future." He says bluntly "Because she thought you weren't taking care of yourself enough." He pauses briefly before adding "But most importantly, she couldn't stand being near you anymore." He sighs deeply "That's all there was to it" "What?! I haven't done anything to offend her... Have I?" she starts to sift through memories to see what she had done to hurt her friend "Of course you did! You were always so irritating!" He snaps angrily "You never cared about getting yourself nearly killed which puts everyone else in danger too!"

He stands up suddenly and begins pacing around the room "It doesn't matter how many times you apologize or beg forgiveness, nothing will ever change the fact that you're an awful subordinate" she can't help the hurt that shoots into her chest and flashes across her face "I have always tried my best!...sir..." She stops talking about her voice can crack with pain. "Oh please..." His voice drops slightly as he stops pacing and turns towards her "...don't lie to yourself." He takes another step closer until their faces are almost touching "The truth is plain to see now. All these years spent trying to make everyone happy only made you miserable in the end." Her brow furrows at his statement "Maybe...but the team functions better now than it ever has! Someone had to sacrifice for the better of the organisation" the chair she'd been sitting on now lies on the floor as she jumps up to confront him "Sacrifice?" He laughs mockingly "Is that really what this is about?! Are you saying that by sacrificing yourself for others, you somehow achieved greatness?!" He shakes his head sadly "No one lives life without making sacrifices sometimes, especially those who wish to succeed in their goals." She looks down then before mumbling out her reply "I've sacrificed as much as you have, I can't imagine being a executive has been without it's struggles" he smiles softly "Yes, it has been hard work, but worth every second of it." He gives her a small nod before turning back to face her "And now here we are. The perfect balance between efficiency and effectiveness. It seems like everything has come together perfectly." He chuckles lightly.

she glances to the side of his desk seeing all the unfinished mission statements that need completed when she suddenly has an idea "Why you don't head home early sir and I'll finish all that work for you" his expression softens "I'm sure it'd be a big help for you" he chuckles softly as he shakes his head "You don't need to do that, it's my work I'll do it". Y/N shakes her head firmly not wanting to budge "well there must be some way I can make up for missing the meeting?" He thinks for a moment "How about you come to my place tonight?" He smirks at the girl in front of him as she turns a dark red thinking of the implications of his words "Sir? Do you need help with the papers? Or..." She trails off not really sure what she's asking him he nods slowly "Yeah, I wouldn't mind having someone around while I work on these papers. Plus, I think you'd enjoy spending time with me right?" He winks playfully at her.

That stops her in her tracks does he know about her little crush why else would he offer for her to come to his come when they could work on his reports here. Finally she gulps down the saliva that pools under her tongue and nods slowly not trusting her words, to be shown such attention from an executive as highly thought of as Chuuya was exciting to say the least. He grins widely "Good girl~" He takes out his phone and types in a few commands before handing it to her to input her number, "Text me whenever you're free so we can hangout"she nods quickly and inputs her number "I thought we were heading back tonight?" She tilts her head confused "Oh we are I just need to finish finalising something real quick then we will go.

Chuuya's fingers clack at the keyboard quickly for a few moments before he speaks again " We should probably go soon since it's getting late already" He stands up and stretches his arms above his head to stretch out his aching back "Let's get going then shall we?" Y/N grabs the few belongings she brought with her today and looks to her mentor "Ready when you are" He nods to her and they leave the building together.

They walk through the dark streets together until they reach Chuuya's apartment building where he unlocks the door and leads her inside, she walks inside of his penthouse tentatively, looking around at his sleek walls and plush looking furniture "You have a lovely apartment sir" she breaths out taking every inch in "Thank you very much for today, coming to see me about the missed meeting" He sits down on one of the couches and pats his lap invitingly "Come sit with me". He looks at her expectantly waiting for her response "You look stunning today by the way. You're wearing something a little more...revealing today...that for me?" He smirks to himself she flushes as she looks down at her blouse it had been unseasonally hot recently and lighter slightly more revealing work outfits had been essential "I-it's been so hot recently I've needed to adapt my clothes I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable sir" she frowns as she joins him on the couch "No worries, I don't mind seeing you wear something like that" His gaze lingers over her body "It suits you well though" He reaches forward and gently touches her arm "You know what else would suit you perfectly? If you took off your jacket" she shrugs the material off quickly almost as if it lingered on her skin any longer it would burn her "Would you be willing to try something new for me" He looks into her eyes expectantly.

She nods almost dazed as she looks down at his hand which is tracing small lines into her skin "What would you like to try sir?" He leans closer and whispers in her ear "How about I tie down your pretty hands to my bed~?" He chuckles softly before pulling away from her and standing up "Let's take this to my bedroom shall we?" He takes her hand and leads her towards his room "Strip for me please baby" She flushes a deep red at his words and follows to his bedroom starting to remove articles of clothes as they move. "Good girl~" He opens the door and steps inside leaving her alone in the room "Come here" He gestures towards the bed where he lays out several ropes and various other items such as handcuffs and blindfolds "Now lie down on the bed and spread those beautiful thighs of yours wide open for me darling~" She gulps down her nerves and nods to him, removing the last of her clothing leaving her bare to her bosses piercing eyes, she lays down on his monochrome silk sheets and spreads her legs for him to invite him into her personal space.

"Mmhmm... You're looking very delicious right now aren't you sweetheart?" He smirks and moves between her legs, running his hands along her inner thigh before reaching up and grabbing hold of her wrists pinning them above her head "There we go~ Now let's see how much pleasure we can draw out of your pretty little body" He murmurs admiring her form, he suddenly looks to her face "You heard of the traffic light system sweetheart?" she smiles lightly at his wanting to make sure she's safe and comfortable during their encounter and nods her head "Yes green means go, yellow means I'm unsure but want to continue and red is stop immediately" "Good girl~ and your safe word?" he asks while trailing his fingers to her inner thighs teasinger her with his gentle touches she thinks for a moment before responding "Peaches" She nods and giggles softly. "Are you ready to start lovely?" He asks as he spreads her legs a little further she nods as the pulls him down to her lips giving him a firm kiss.

Chuuya starts his teasing by turning his head the the side peppering her thighs with small kisses, giving small nibbles and licks every few minutes "I've always thought you were incredibly beautiful you know and so dedicated to the PM... To me" a whine bubbles up to her lips at his teasing as she watches him between her thighs "I've always been so fond of you sir I'd never want to disappoint you" Chuuya chuckles softly and leans forward pressing another soft kiss against her inner thigh "Stop calling me sir my love or I'll have to punish you" He smirks at her before pulling back slightly looking into her eyes again "do you trust me?" he asks "Yes Chuuya I trust you... trust you with my life" She smiles at him he smiles back running his thumb along her cheek making her shiver "Good now tell me what are your thoughts on our relationship? Do you think we could be together? Before we start I'd like to know where we stand" He asks gently stroking her hair as he stares deeply into her eyes hoping that she'll accept his offer "I'm yours Chuuya, I've been yours since I was told I'd be working under you" She smiles at him as she lifts her hand to card her fingers through his hair and down his neck resting at his neck.

His heart skips a beat as he feels her touch "That's what I wanted to hear baby~" he whispers placing one last gentle kiss on her forehead before leaning in closer to whisper in her ear "Close your eyes my love" He smirks as he steps down from the bed to grab the supplies he needs she nods her head as she relaxes into his sheets "I trust you with my body" She softly closes her eyes, he uses some velvet covered cuffs to attach her arms to his headboard before moving down and attaching some cuffs to her ankles which spread her out for his eyes to explore. Next he starts to remove his clothes starting with his dress shirt then moving to his pants then his boxers to expose his already hard length to her watching eyes she lets out a needy whine as she pleads to him "I need you so badly Chuuya~"

He grins teasingly watching her squirm around beneath him "You're such an adorable thing aren't you? You look so cute tied up like this." He says playfully as he leans forward kissing along her collarbone trailing soft kisses down her chest until finally reaching her nipples which he takes between his teeth she gasps as she feels his teeth gently encase her hardened nipples sighing as he licks over the bud sucking softly before moving to the other side and paying just as much attention to her other breast "F-feels so nice Chuu~" He continues licking and nibbling all over her breasts enjoying every second of it before moving lower still stopping to tease her belly button with his tongue before continuing further south towards her core where he pauses briefly to lick and kiss her inner thighs before finally settling between her legs "So warm... So wet and I've barely started" He smirks up at her as she gently tugs at the cuffs wanting to grab his head and push him down to where she needs him most "Stop t-teasing Chuu I need you so badly~" His eyes sparkle mischievously as he sees her struggling against the restraints knowing exactly what she wants "Oh my dear little one if only you'd told me that sooner~" He teases before beginning to explore her folds with gentle caresses and light licks moaning softly at the taste of her juices, she gasps harshly and tips her head back "F-fuck Chuuya your tongue feels so good~" He smiles at the sounds he's pulling from her as he drives his head down to explore her pretty pussy further, he licks a stripe up the full length of her pussy collecting her wetness on his tongue before sliding his tongue around her sensitive clit.

She lets out a drawn out moan as he pleasures her, bucking her hips up to meet his tongue "Why didn't we do this sooner" She huffs out a laugh with her head still tipped backwards as he chuckles softly he moves away from her clit leaving behind trails of saliva which drips onto her soft skin "Well now let's see how well you can take it shall we?" He says teasingly while looking up at her seductively, he wraps his hand around his length giving it a few teasing strokes while she nods quickly as she watches his movements licking her lips at the sight of his pretty cock "Please give it to me Chuuya I need you inside me now" His smile widens into a wide grin as he slides himself between her thighs slowly pushing himself deep inside her tight walls causing her to gasp in pleasure "Oh yes baby, just relax for me okay? You're doing great." He whispers huskily as he begins to move within her slowly building up speed.

She pulls at her restraints again harder this time making her hiss slightly in pain and she bucks her hips up to try and match his steady thrusts "Fuck chuu~ you feel even better than I could have ever imagined, you're making me feel so full" He grins almost wickedly as he continues to pound into her hard and fast, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through both their bodies "You like that don't you? You love having my big fat dick buried deep inside you don't you?" He asks mockingly as he leans forward to kiss her lips passionately, licking his tongue into her mouth, she moans loudly into his mouth as she matches his eagerness in their kiss "Yesss~ I need your fat cock chuuya! Need you to make me cum on your cock~ I-I'm close" She gasps against his lips. He groans softly as he keeps pounding away at her relentlessly his rough thrusts shaking his headboard as it bangs loudly into his walls "Cum for me now babygirl!" He reaches his hand down between their sweaty bodies as he roughly rubs her abused clit feeling her tighten around him as he slams into her one final time burying himself fully inside her as she spasms around him, legs shaking as she cums causing him to groans harshly as he cums hard.

He chuckles darkly as he slides out of her leaving only the head of his member still inside her causing her to whimper slightly "Well done little one...but there's no rest for us yet." He says sternly as he grabs onto her thighs pulling them apart spreading her wide open exposing her pink soaked pussy to his eyes, her body shakes as she's coming down from her high "Fuck Chuuya my pussy can't take much more" She whines out as she watches him grinning at her as he starts slowly pushing inside her stretching her tight muscles around his girth "Mmmh..such a good girl... You're so fucking wet aren't you?" Y/N nods her head sharply "F-fuck yes! I'm your good girl! You've made me so fucking wet baby" She whines as he starts to fuck her harder, pushing her slowly into overstimulation as her tired walls tighten around his fat cock.

His grip on her thighs tighten as he begins thrusting into her faster and harder making sure not to let up even for a second letting out a low moan of pleasure as he feels her tightening around him "Ohhh yeah... That's right... Keep cumming for me darling... Cum for daddy.... Cum for daddy" He reaches one of his hands down to play with her little clit. She throws her head back harshly as she grips the edge of the cuffs, tearing falling down her cheeks as she cums causing her legs to shake against Chuuya, whining and sobbing as her body shakes with painful pleasure.

As soon as she cums he pulls out quickly slamming it deep again causing her to cry out in pain but also pleasure as he slams his thick member into her ah~ such a good girl.... My sweet girl... Ohh god..... Your pussy is so warm and tight...so so soft... And so delicious..." She sobs through moans as her throat becomes croaky from over use, her body heating up from his praise. He smirks at her before grabbing her hips firmly and pulling them towards him burying himself deeper inside her than ever before "Ohhhh yesssss... Take all of daddy's big dick... Take every inch of this monster... Mmmmphh..." His body shakes as his thrusts become shallow as he spurts out a few lines of cum before he pulls out watching the cum trickle out of her abused hole, her body shakes as she watches her partner cum again before she shakes her arms as the cuffs clink against his bed "A little help here?" She giggles at him as he huffs out a chuckle lifting his tired body to unclip her restraints, making sure he kisses all the marks that have been left behind "Sorry love, think I got a bit carried away at the end there" He pushes his sweat caked hair back as he joins her back in bed, pulling her close to his body.

She smiles brightly as she gently wraps her arms around him, leaving light kisses to his chest "That was... Intense" She laughs as she cuddles into his side, he chuckles softly as he nuzzles her neck lightly "Yeah, you were pretty amazing too baby right?" He winks playfully at her he gives her a slight peck on the tip of her nose "We should really clean you up my love" He sighs wistfully, she pouts at her lover but rolls her eyes slightly and nods "One last kiss first?" She smiles as she reaches her arms out to him, he nods happily as he leans down for another passionate kiss, their tongues dancing together until they break apart slowly and he makes his way over to his en suite where he grabs a few washclothes, wiping her down as gently as he can to avoid more abuse to her already fucked out hole.

Once he's done he smiles and throws the cloth away and looks at her with a smirk on his face "That was fun wasn't it?" Chuuya grins widely at her "Wanna go again?" He asks teasingly. Y/N looks up at him in mock alarm "Are you kidding me Chuuya I don't think I'll be able to walk for a week as it is! No way I'll be able to go to work tomorrow!" She laughs as she reaches her hands to wrap around his neck, his grin widens even further as he pulls her closer to him and starts kissing her deeply once more, this time going slower than before so he can savor every moment of their closeness "You're such an adorable little thing aren't you?" He whispers against her lips "Fuck I'm glad you wanted me as much as I wanted you, I'll make something up to to tell Mori tomorrow" He smirks as he looks into her eyes "You'd better it's your fault" She giggles as she playfully hits his chest softly before cuddling back into his side "I love you Chuuya Nakahara~" He chuckles lightly as he wraps his arm around her waist and holds her close to him "I love you too Y/N L/N" He kisses her forehead affectionately before pulling away slightly to look deep into her eyes watching as she yawns Chuuya looks at her and smiles "Stay here tonight baby and we will talk about us more tomorrow hmm?" The woman nods thankfully as she gives him one last kiss before settling into his bed with a smile, he watches her drift off to sleep and leans forward to give her another soft kiss on the cheek before turning off the lights and wrapping his arms around her to join her in sleep. Tomorrow can wait for a while he thinks as he basks in the love they've shared together.

[pyschedtrickster]

TADC Ep 2 - Depression and the Meaning of Life

Well, I may or may not be a day late to release of the episode, but I've watched it three times so far and I have some thoughts. Let's get the gritty stuff outta the way.

First of all, The Amazing Digital Circus belongs to @gooseworx and therefore everything I say here is just my personal take on the episode. I could be wrong, talking out my ass, etc. But this episode really spoke to me, so good job Goose.

Secondly, spoilers <3

Third, I think I've written enough that people won't get jumpscared with spoilers. This is gonna be a long read, so bear with me. This post will contain ALL my thoughts on the episode, both meaningful and just silly things I liked.

BUBBLE

So anyone who knows me from Bunnydoll Burrow knows I love Bubble. They're my favorite so far and this episode only cemented that further. They're wonderful comedic relief and even if they don't have any character development (which I don't think they will), I will always love them.

Caine Cares Too Much

While watching this, I was immediately off-put by Caine's reactions, even beginning with him calling Zooble back. He sounds so... dire? I don't know if that was intended to mean something or if it was just to put emphasis on how much Caine cares about his creations. Caine is AI, so world-building is likely his ONLY goal, or his prompt if you will. It wouldn't surprise me if that was why he was so upset by everyone's reactions.

But I can't help but wonder if this will play into his character arc. We understand that Caine is ambiguous right now and there's no real explanation of what his intentions are in the Circus. Something about this just really set me off. It made me feel unsafe in a way as if staying behind would result in danger of some kind. Obviously, it couldn't be that bad, as Zooble did stay behind and turned out fine. Still, I can't shake the feeling that this is foreshadowing.

Zoobie

Hilarious. What a solid nickname, I've seen so many headcanons that Zooble would be a stoner in the real world. This only makes it better. They are now Zoobie in my mind.

Pomni's Child Comment

While I'm sure this was just a silly comment to be made, I kinda liked it. Just a little in-show reminder that through all of this, Pomni is a real, grown-ass woman stuck inside some digital Hell. The whole first episode, we see her wallowing and panicking, justifiably so. Finally, we get to see her grow more serious and stable.

Through the episode, we see more of her being a good character and becoming more at terms with her situation. I'll touch on this more soon.

Gangle

My girl CANNOT catch a break. Gangle is such a funny character and so, so sweet. She's level-headed in my opinion, even through her emotions. She seems to have a good grip on the shit happening around her but has a hard time communicating properly because she has a lot of feelings going on. Me too, honey, me too.

Even in the face of violence, danger, and overall shitfuckery, she doesn't shut down. Sure, she cries. But I've cried plenty of times while still holding the fort down. I think I just relate to her.

Lastly, I NEED to know what this means like I need oxygen.

Government Mandated Shipping

I dunno man, I just really liked this. I'm a shipper at heart. I've been writing fanfic since middle school. I saw pure fanfic material when I watched this scene.

Kinger and Raggs

This scene made me smile. It's a cute nod towards how Kinger is the longest-standing character and, according to some lost post of Goose's, Ragatha is the second. Plus, all of episodes one and two, we see her trying so hard to be a rock for Pomni. She tries to include everyone, keep everyone cheerful, and be a stable constant in a realm of chaos; Seeing Kinger recognize how far she's come and using that to bring her back to reason was just so refreshing. Ragatha deserves more appreciation like that: less about what she does for others, and more about what she's done for herself.

Jax's Disappointment

So we don't know much about Jax besides how Goose loves him and says he's an asshole who may or may not be irredeemable. When he started talking about violence and getting excited at the thought, I chalked it up to him being an ass. But it struck me just how much this mattered to Jax in this scene. I have questions, man. But I'm about to go on a wild tangent, so hear me out.

Jax is happy when being destructive. He gets immediately upset when things go well. And in the circus, we can assume that there have been a lot of traumatic, wild things that have occurred. I wonder if the chaos, the violence, is a comfort for Jax because of those traumatic experiences. As a person with trauma, I've learned that there's a funny cycle that I and other traumatized people experience.

We don't like the situations we're in, but when faced with normalcy, it's so much scarier than the damaging situation we come from. So, we run from 'normal' back into the suffocating arms of our traumatizing situations for comfort. Going back to the situation means more trauma, more trauma means a harder time finding peace in a safe, normal environment, which means more trauma... you get the picture.

So am I saying a fictional purple bunny is using violence in a digital realm to cope with the very real topic of trauma? Maybe. Yes. Yes, I am. This is how I cope.

Depression, Finding Your Place, and the Bigger Picture

Now you may be saying, "hey! You skipped over some major scenes to talk about silly stuff! What gives?"

Well, as the title of this post suggests, I had some heavier stuff to address in this episode and wanted to compile it all in one section. So that meant skipping over a scene to bunch it in with other ones. I'll break it down.

Depression

Let me begin with the fact that I have been diagnosed with depression for years now. I've been hospitalized for it and I've had family members struggle with it around me. This heavily influenced how I viewed this episode and specifically this scene.

Gummigoo had a perfectly reasonable reaction to seeing the perfect replica of him that is his model. Seeing something like that would shatter your world, and we see that happen to him immediately.

But when Gummigoo talked to Pomni and asked why anything matters, it gave me this really familiar feeling. Thoughts of being nothing, of feeling meaningless, the mere idea of being an obstacle--I've experienced all of these. I'm sure others have. Pomni was right when she said it's normal. Everyone has felt down from time to time.

But what Gummigoo is talking about really hit home with my depression. Thoughts like these, especially when they linger for long, change how you view the world. Everything is tinted blue and desaturated. You feel empty and eventually, so does the world around you. You feel like when the party is over and everyone leaves, you disappear--or you think you should, at least.

"Why are you trying to cheer me up? How does this benefit you at all?"

And it's so, so hard to accept help when feeling like this. Depression is a bitch in the way that it wants you to stay depressed. It feels like everyone around you wants you to feel better because it is a convenience for them. It almost feels transactional if you smile.

But Pomni says it so beautifully; "I guess I just don't want you to feel like you're nothing. I don't want anybody to feel like that."

The way she says it makes me feel like she knows the feeling too, and in reality, she says she does understand in a way how Gummigoo feels. But that? That made it real for me. I don't know why. This whole scene, the entrapment and loneliness despite not actually being alone, just embodied how I've felt for years. What amazing writing.

Finding Your Place

This scene was really the cherry on top of everything I just spoke about. We see that these two understand each other, at least as much as they can. They recognize all of this, it's ridiculous. They're hurtling through space into the unknown, hoping everything works out. They may feel empty, but they're not alone. They've got each other, for better or worse. Maybe they don't know where they belong in this liminal space, but they know where they stand in each other's minds.

And then we get this ending scene. God. Fuck.

I knew that there was obviously something to that dream Pomni had in the beginning, but somehow I didn't expect this to be the conclusion to it. I guess I was too distracted by everything else. So when I got to this shot, I got all warm and teary-eyed.

Pomni finally feels like she's got a pack, a place in this digital circus. When you don't feel mentally alone anymore, there seems to be a weight that's lifted off your shoulders. It doesn't cure the sadness, but at least you know that if you need to be picked up, someone will be there. Depression wants you to be alone, but it just lost that battle. The internet has said it best: A win is a win.

The Bigger Picture

We all know where the end of the road is. How we get there is the mystery. This thought can really make a person feel small, especially when depression comes in to tell you that you in fact are small, according to the chemicals in your brain. But the power of numbers and knowing your place in the world makes facing the unknown a little easier.

I'll be honest, the words are kinda lost on me at this point. Our demise is a really hard topic to broach. I've lost a lot of people, especially some major players in my life (shoutout to the Dead Dads club), and still, I don't understand it all. But the best way I can explain it is through my own experience and how I applied it to this episode.

I had for a long time gone through life trying to prepare and prepare. I played the role of the strong, unaffected individual after being hardened by trauma in childhood. I didn't want to be outwardly emotional, because if I was I would have to admit defeat.

It made me feel weak, especially when my depression would whisper nasty things to me about my self-worth. The bigger picture at that time didn't even exist in my mind. I lived to serve and die. It was no way to live.

Only recently, with time, a couple grippy sock vacays and therapy have I started to form my own, new big picture. At the center of this is my interactions with others. Family, friends, and strangers, all of them are affected by my actions. Even during the days when I feel worthless or alone, I remind myself that even the little things I do have a spiderweb effect. I have worth, more so than serving others or being some obstacle. I can simply walk down the street and perhaps I'll be the person who some kid looks at and hopes to look like when they're older. My existence is so much more than just a give-and-take situation with everyone around me.

It felt like Pomni found her purpose in the circus, and it was more than just playing along until the end. Rather, it was to befriend the people around her who have proved in one way or another way that they care. Abstraction wasn't in vain to them. Lives mattered, and therefore so did Pomni.

In a vast, digital world where chaos looms like a grey cloud, Pomni always mattered. She just had to realize how, and it was much more than being an obstacle or a pawn. And so do we, I think.

[lemmeurs]

okay. here is my 1600+ words essay on raphael. if anyone would like to adress anything from it, please do but keep it civil! i am so damn invested in this topic, i wanna hear everyone's thoughts

raphael rant

(DISCLAIMER: this essay was not written in order to justify Raphael as a character or any of his actions or intentions. i am completely skipping any point of morality, whether my own or just in general, i simply wanted to somehow try and write my feelings and thoughts down while looking at the whole thing from an objective point of view, analyzing the design of the game, the plotline and his whole persona and just.. idk i wanted to see whether anyone else felt the way i do because i have been going INSANE over this for the past few days)

hi. i have come here today to express my thoughts and feelings on Raphael the cambion and "his final act". this is being randomly and spontaneously written in my notes app so please excuse the absolute chaos that this essay will be (no i won't be rereading it, fuck it we ball) (CONTAINS BG3 ACT III SPOILERS!!)

first of all — i am so beyond devastated that he gets killed. and not just by anyone, he gets killed BY US. THE PLAYER. WE AS THE PLAYER DELIVER THE FINAL BLOW THAT ENDS HIS EXISTENCE. not only is that very upsetting (because come on, hot devil man, obviously i don't wanna kill him??) but it also makes me feel so.. awful. like, everything about this is wrong and i hate the fact that there is no other option.

because let's review the course of the story in the house of hope:

- we barge into his house unannounced, uninvited, while he is absent

- we invade his privacy by entering what's his own personal space (yes, i know he stole it from Hope in the first place but that is not the point here — whatever his devil business is, it's still HIS, you know?? like he is a devil, this is the kinda stuff they do and honestly? i didn't want to stick my nose into it. but obviously i did because tHe sToRy etc etc. but still, it was his own thing that basically doesn't affect the player in any way so TECHNICALLY you dont have to free Hope. you can, if your character's moral compass advises so, but it doesn't affect the main plot.)

- we then proceed to walk around his house freely, lie to his archivist in order to look at the stuff we're already planning to steal

- we meet his personal incubus whom then we have the chance to either use or kill (i fought Haarlep so that's the point of view i'm looking from at this here, in which case i also robbed their corpse) and we rob his safe. and his whole bedroom actually. we read his journals. we use his bath.

- then obviously we go and rob his entire archive which includes all of his most precious possessions

- upon stealing, we slaughter every single creature in his house, fighting our way through to get to Hope's prison

- we then kill the two spectators he has guarding her (they were probably super hard to obtain??) and we just. free his prisoner. because yeah, that is the right thing to do, IM NOT SAYING THAT'S WRONG, but let's say we skip morality for a second, let's just focus on the fact that we have no ulterior motives in freeing Hope. we just wanna mess with HIS business because why not since we're already ruining all of his plans.

- and then we have the audacity to try to leave before he comes back and act like we were never there while his entire house is turned to shit.

now let's look at this list again but this time keep in mind the fact that at that point, he hasn't done A SINGLE THING to us. like, he has never harmed us, he treated us with (let's call it) "respect" and politeness, he was fine with our hesitation towards his deal and was willing to give us time. he was never aggressive towards us, he was never "the enemy".

and now you can say - okay wtf is wrong with you, that man literally admitted his intention of conquering the worlds, enslaving all mortals and basically becoming the tyrant of all while also most likely stealing everyone's souls for his own pleasure.

yes, he did, and yes, that's bad. but just because those were his intentions does not give us the right to do all that shit to him AND THEN KILL HIM. AS IF WE HAD THE RIGHT TO SERVE JUSTICE HERE?? YEAH HIS PLANS ARE EVIL BUT IT IS NOT UP TO US TO DICTATE HIS CONSEQUENCES. HIS PLANS WOULD ONLY SUCCEED IF WE GAVE HIM THE CROWN IN THE END, SO JUST- DON'T?? LIKE DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN. IM NOT TRYING TO JUSTIFY HIS ACTIONS OR INTENTIONS, BY ALL MEANS. i'm just trying to express how weird this all made me feel because not everyone decides to play as the selfless, lawfully good hero of all, protecting the world from all evil, ever! this is roleplay, afterall!

and them obviously he comes home. he is furious, as he should be. but mostly he's betrayed because, as weird as it may be, he trusted us. he admitted to growing "quite fond of us, in his own way". he thought we were some weird sort of.. acquaintances? friends maybe? (again, i know most of our relationship with him is mostly just him manipulating us but still, it's quite clear he wasn't expecting this betrayal) and we just barged in there and disrespected him in the worst way possible. so obviously he wants to kill us now and obviously we can kill him since he's just a boss in a game. and that's what we do. and then.. that's it. we're the good guys. we ruined a man's whole career because we needed one of his toys, murdered him in his own house and just left. and we're supposed to be the good guys.

i think the source of my problem is that Raphael is never introduced as evil. we don't meet him as the big bad villain that we know we'll have to kill at some point. i swear to god, at the beginning of act 3 i trusted that man way more than i trusted the Emperor and i was so close to agreeing to his deal just because i felt like i could trust him and he would keep me safe (for some reason, let's blame it on those wonderful eyes of his).

we meet him so early on in the game and he follows through all 3 acts, making it feel like he's gonna be some key character that will matter in the end - turns out, no! we were just supposed to rob and kill him. and that's literally it. talk about wasted potential.

when i first met him i got the "unofficial narrator" vibes from him, as if he was only supposed to seem intimidating and "evil" but you could sense there was so much more to him and i was dying to see how his story would unwrap. i was so ready for a redemption act, a plot twist, anything. man was i disappointed. because how cool would it be if he turned out to be a part of the "gather your allies" quest?? imagine having him as an ally and an ACTUAL friend in the end??

and don't even GET ME STARTED on what the orb in Helsik's shop shows you after you kill him. the fact that he's not even dead yet but ABOUT TO BE DEVOURED BY MEPHISTOPHELES. ABOUT TO BE DEVOURED. BY HIS FATHER. HE. WHAT. THATS THE ENDING HE GETS. and we are the ones that served it to him when he got RIGHTFULLY pissed at us for doing all that shit to him. and im supposed to just be fine with it?? i'm supposed to feel like this was the ending he deserved and i did the right thing??

god what i would give for a different way. idk. striking a new deal with him. saving him from Mephistopheles afterwards. REDEMPTION ARC?? ANYTHING?? NO? THATS IT THEN?

now i know that you dont HAVE to kill him, you can either agree to his deal or just ignore him and the house of hope altogether. but that just defeats the whole purpose of this character?? agreeing to his deal and giving him the crown at the end results in a pretty bad ending and ignoring him means that yeah, you don't have to kill him but you also don't get anything else from him anymore. like he has no other endings, just either death or his big evil plans. and for a game with so many choices and so much branching, it just feels almost weird that that's all he is there for. then why do we meet him in act 1? why does he follow through to act 2? (yeah, astarion, i know, but i cant help but feel like they could have put a completely different way to read his runes there if they didnt want Raphael specifically to help us) WHY ARE WE ALREADY SO USED TO HIM BY THE TIME HE PRESENTS HIS DEAL? if the whole hammer business is the only thing he's in the game for, then we may have as well been introduced to him only in act 3 during the whole Voss quest. but we knew him already and he felt like some sort of a.. friend lets call it? idk. this just does not make sense to me and makes me genuinely so sad.

as i'm writing this, it's the third day after ive completed the house of hope and i literally can not think about anything else. like my mind is just going on and on about this and i cant get over it!! im actually GRIEVING a fictional devil and i dont know what to do with all these.. thoughts.

so now i actually genuinely MISS THAT MF. I MISS HIM. GIVE HIM BACK. I WASN'T DONE AND NEITHER WAS HE. PLEASE PLEASE LARIAN I CAN FIX HIM—

okay i think thats it for now. idk i wrote this so chaotically i already forgot what i said and didnt say. im just. im feeling so many things. im so fucking sad and mad that this is how it ends. rest in peace hot devil man i will never forget you.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Week 8 - Wonderland ✨

Summary: It’s a secret.

Warnings: Swear words.

First part Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Good morning, sweet pea.” Midoriya looks up in his new glasses with a smile on his sleepy face. He’s sitting on the sofa in a criss-cross applesauce position, with a brand new notebook in his hands; he was chewing the top of his pen deep in thought while he muttered incoherently to the notebook until you came in; his face changed into his usual sunshine smile after, work abandoned.

You need the make a confession…

You really hate these glasses.

Looking into Deku’s eyes was already hard for you, but these glasses makes him look so innocent and geeky you can barely stop yourself from ruining his look and kiss him until his eyes change into that deep pine green, almost black color he usually have when he’s jealous.

This should be illegal. While normal Izuku feels unapproachable, a star on the sky you can’t reach, this one is warm and calm and it’s calling your name; it makes you feel like falling in love with him isn’t the most insane thing you could have done in your current situation, but something that was bound to happen; something that was written in the skies, a story where you walk among the stars and take the one you like the most like it’s the easiest thing in the universe to hold one so closely. You wish to be able to live in this story. You want to be the only girl who keeps a star in her shirt pocket, right by her heart, the steady beats keeping the little planet alive. The two of you would live a happy life; there’s nothing else you need other than the comfortable pressure on your chest to be able to keep moving, knowing the little star will never let you get hurt in any way.

Well, your thoughts definitely got out hand right now. Izuku does that to you quite a lot these days; he shines so brightly it hurts your eyes sometimes. Maybe, you should have used the Sun as a comparison instead, because that’s what Izuku really is; if you selfishly take the sun away from the world, just to keep it in your pocket, everything crumbles; Izuku is more than just a person, he’s the savior of Japan, the number one hero who’s everyone’s and no one’s at the same time; you must not take him away…

“I’m a human, Y/N. You know that more than anyone else.” A sudden caress drags you back from your daydreams; Izuku’s standing next to you, slowly stroking your cheeks, a new emotion decorating his beautiful face; you try and try but you can’t understand it, it’s deeper than the ocean and darker than the black hole, warm but mysterious at the same time.

“Did I mumble all of that out loud?” You ask shyly, a hint of pink dusting your cheeks.

“Funnily enough, I also compare you to the sun in my mind; maybe there are two suns in this story. Do you think they can burn themselves if they have the same blaze? Can they blind themselves if they are already used to the blinding light?” Midoriya mutters, his eyes never leaving yours. There is a sudden understanding in his eyes and he moves towards you to knock your foreheads together. Your breath hitches but you continue to listen intently. “What if we had this all wrong and we are actually the same? What if we are the two halves of the same planet, one not complete without the other? What if what we think is wrong is actually the solution?”

“Izuku, I…”

The sudden screech of Izuku’s high tech bracelet shatters the glass wall around you; it falls to the floor with a loud clatter, painting the walls in rainbow colors for only a second before they disappear, leaving nothing but the darkness of the early morning in the living room.

“Nerd, are you busy?” Katsuki’s hologram suddenly pops out of the little bracelet. “Woah, sorry.”

You never thought you’ll live long enough to see the big, tough Dynamight flustered, but here you are.

“Katsuki, I love you and I respect you but if it’s not important enough for you to yell ‘it’s go time’, send a fucking message instead.”

… and Midoriya is fucking mad. Another thing you’ve never thought you’ll ever see.

“I will let you get away with your attitude this one time but if you ever talk to me like this ever again, I’ll howitzer impact you to the moon.”

“Deal.” Midoriya presses the button on his bracelet without saying goodbye. He takes a deep breath and tries his best to smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Can we have a chill evening today? Just you and me watching a stupid movie while we forget about all our responsibilities?” Izuku sighs, his head buried in his usual spot in the crook of your neck; you are quite sure you have a head shaped dent in there by now.

“Anything for my Sun.” You grin and you can feel Izuku rolling his eyes fondly.

“Shithead.” He giggles and moves towards his room like that whole conversation didn’t even happen. To be fair, it’s probably for the best.

“You better be back by eight, it’s your fucking day off.” You reprimand but Izuku only laughs in his room. You can hear the rustle of his costume as he changes.

“With all the pent up anger I feel right now, this fight will be done and won in a heart beat.”

~•🥦•~

Izuku stays true to his word and comes back after a few hours; there are no injuries on his body this time and he sounds as chirpy as he usually does on his day offs which means his stamina wasn’t used up for healing; in conclusion, Pro Hero Deku did not get hurt today. What a day to be alive.

“Someone was in a hurry to come back tonight.” You raise a single eyebrow knowingly.

“I could smell the popcorn. That’s all I was waiting for all day, really.”

Sassy Izuku is your new favorite by the way. You have no idea where he was hiding all this sass for the last two months, but hell if you are not into it. Not like there is anything you are not into when it comes to the green haired hero.

“Oh, okay then, I’ll make All Meowt eat all the Katsudon I made while you were away. It was made with love and tears from missing you so much, but you know what? Go eat the popcorn while your favorite food rots away together with my broken heart.” You make a dramatic swoon-motion; you can hear Midoriya giggling in the background, his eyes shining happily as he looks into your eyes. His eyes glaze over for a second, like he’s not even the room anymore, so you come closer to him to get him out of his stupor.

“You okay?” You ask, your hands caressing his cheeks soothingly.

“Yeah.” Izuku mutters. “I was just thinking about how much I love… coming home to this. To you. Yeah. That’s it.”

“I also love… when you come home smiling like this. Happiness looks good on you.”

You are not lying. It really does look good on him; his eyes shine brighter than the chandelier in the living room, all sweet and sparkly as he looks into your eyes, looking for answers to the questions he doesn’t even know he wants to ask. Midoriya is beaming today for some reason and so are you; as though there is a magnetic field pulling you closer and closer to the man in front of you and the closer you get the more right it feels.

“I’m only happy because of you, you know that, right?” Midoriya mumbles as you embrace him tightly in the middle of the entrance, as though you haven’t done the same only a few hours ago.

“You are killing me.” You mutter into his uniform. “One day, my heart will give in and if it does I want you to carve ‘killed by smooth moves’ on my tombstone.”

“I wasn’t flirting with you, I was stating facts. Two different things, Sweet Pea.” Midoriya smiles as he leaves a tiny kiss on the top of your head, his hands on the both sides of your cheeks. You feel like a little kid in between those huge, scarred hands. He moves towards his room to change into his comfy sweats and you enjoy a lovely dinner afterwards. The dinner is silent but the silence is gold; It’s comfortable and sweet, the air filled with unsaid words but somehow it’s not giving you anxiety anymore. The fleeting touches and tiny smiles say more than thousand words ever can.

~•🥦•~

It’s always so nice to have these moments with Midoriya when all the problems of your real life are just tucked away somewhere in the corner while you melt into his side and forget everything that has been bothering you during the day. There is a cheesy romantic movie playing on the TV, the main couple crying and kissing in the rain after being away from each other for too long; it’s heartbreaking, but to be honest, you don’t concentrate enough on the show to actually understand the feelings behind it as you are too distracted by your roommate in his new glasses, round with a thin rim, dark green like his disheveled, still wet hair. He looks absolutely beautiful. So fucking beautiful it churns your insides and makes you feel dizzy, makes you feel like you’re levitating in the air and the only thing keeping you from flying away is Izuku’s gaze on you; he looks at you with half lidded eyes wondering around your face left to right, top to bottom as though he’s trying to remember every single shape, every single pore, every single crevice.

His eyes wonder down to your lips and you bite on them instinctively, shy from the sudden closeness. You have no idea when did he move closer, or maybe it was you, somehow the time works in a weird way right now, five minutes might have passed but maybe it was only a few seconds, who knows? Maybe it’s already tomorrow but it might be yesterday. Your mind is in a frenzy and so is Izuku’s; the credits roll in the background but you have no idea how did the movie end; your mind is too full with green clouds and turquoise sparks as Izuku suddenly moves closer and closer, his lips scraping yours in the middle of the movement. The world stops spinning and everything turns green; Izuku stops right there and takes a deep breath; the warm air tickles your lips and makes you want to move further, the last bit of your restraint snapping like an old rubber band under too much pressure. You don’t need to take the first step as Izuku has the same thought; he puts his lips on yours, soft and gentle; he barely moves, just takes your bottom lip in his, leaving one tiny peck then he jerks himself away right after. He looks terrified and guilty and you can see the words coming out of his mouth but you can’t really hear them; you touch your lips, your heart pounding heavily in your chest, you barely understand the implications of the action and maybe that’s why you decide to shut him up with your mouth. Izuku stares at you with wide eyes after you move away and you stare back with the same expression, panting and utterly confused by how this had happened; the confusion twists into something else as you both continue to look into each other’s eyes, looking for sign, begging for something to stop you from making a mistake but you can’t find any; Izuku slowly knocks your foreheads together, giving you more than enough time to move away but you don’t; you can’t, it’s physically impossible to do so. Izuku cups your face, his eyes still full of worry and his head full of thoughts while your hand comes up and you tangle your fingers into his green locks and it hits differently from this angle; the usually friendly gesture has so much heat to it now; he pants and looks at you again, looking for a sign one last time before he closes the remaining distance and kisses you again; this time, properly.

And fuck, Midoriya Izuku is an amazing kisser.

He doesn’t deepen the kiss, he just pecks your lips once or twice, sometimes taking your upper lip in his mouth to gently suck on it, it’s sweet and careful, just like Izuku himself yet it still leaves you hot and bothered, begging for more but you decide to behave and just enjoy what you get, letting him have the upper hand. His kisses are so soft you want to cry from happiness, he makes you feel so fragile but somehow, the feeling isn’t unwelcome; it reminds you of the time he took you into his arms when you fell asleep on the sofa, of the way he carried you to your room, soft and careful about his movements, making sure you don’t wake up; it’s the same now, just in a different situation and it fits so perfectly; everything feels like a fragile dream, as though a single harsh movement would make the dream fade away. You have no idea how much time has passed; maybe five minutes or maybe an hour. By the tingles of your lips, it was probably much longer than you think. Izuku slows down completely, leaving featherlight kisses on your lips then hides his face in the crook of your neck; now that your head is less cloudy you realize he’s shaking.

“What’s wrong?” You ask while you massage his head soothingly.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is shaky and he grabs the t-shirt wrinkling on your stomach, clenches his hand around it; he’s clearly shaken up by this and so are you. You’ve already been way past the friend zone since the beginning but this… this is another level. You can’t just shake this off the way you usually do.

“Izu, we don’t need to talk about this. And I… I can’t lie to you and say I didn’t like it. Don’t make me do that.” You say with tears pooling in your eyes. You know it’s not the right solution to the problem and it will bite you back later but this happiness inside you is so pure and so terrifyingly strong you want to be selfish for once and keep this false happiness for as long as you can. Midoriya nods and gives you a sad smile, finally moving his head up to look at you and jesus, you could get used to this look on him, his lips swollen from all the kissing, dusty pink creeping up his cheeks, his eyes so soft and fond it makes your insides churn. His glasses are dirty and he probably can’t see through them properly anymore and you can’t help but giggle at that.

“Sorry, I dirtied your glasses.” You take his glasses off fondly and put them down on the coffee table.

“Hundred percent worth it.” He smiles softly and your heart flutters in a new way, it’s something deeper, something you can’t easily come out of and you probably never will. You have a strong urge to tell him all of that, tell him how much you love him and how much you want to keep doing what you’ve been doing for the past hour but you decide against it; Izuku is clearly overwhelmed right now and he definitely does not need your mess of emotions on top of that. “I’m going to sleep, okay?” He mumbles, his hands moving up and down on your arms calmingly.

“Yeah, good idea.” You nod and stand up, ready to leave but the greenette pulls you back for a crashing hug.

“Thank you.” He mumbles wetly. “Thank you for existing. For being so understanding. You are the best thing that has ever happened in my life and I don’t want to loose you because of this.” Izuku sniffles, pulling you impossibly close.

“Do you remember when you said I could be a mass murderer and you would still beg me to stay with you?” You mumble, deep in thought. Izuku nods. “It’s the same for me, Izu.” You smile sadly and make your way to your room.

“Y/N, I love you.” He declares without a hint of hesitation, his eyes boring holes into your skull. He means it - his eyes tell.

“I love you too, you silly nerd.”

It’s not the same. He can’t feel the same. But his eyes… they tell you a different story but maybe it’s just the reflection of your own emotions, it’s what you want to see, far from the reality, somewhere in Wonderland where all of this is easy, where pulling him close and telling him to stay and share the bed isn’t something you need to push down. It’s all a dream and it’s time to wake up from it. You don’t need to love someone romantically to want to kiss them. It happens sometimes. It was a moment of weakness, that’s all.

You close the door behind yourself, your back sliding down on it until your bottom hits the floor.

“Fuck…”

~•🥦•~

— Deku’s mental health support group —

Deku: I kissed her.

Kacchan: You kiss her every single fucking day Deku.

Deku: Not like this. I fucked up.

Shitty Hair: You actually kissed her? How did she react?

Deku: …

Deku: …

Kacchan: Shitty Deku…

Deku: She kissed me back. We’ve kissed for a whole hour.

Shitty Hair: BRB crying RN

Kacchan: He’s not lying.

Deku: Can I call you?

~•🥦•~

Mama Katsuki: Oi freeloader, you ok?

Y/N: I’m having a meltdown.

Mama Katsuki: So is Deku. Stop feeling shitty. You are both stupid as fuck.

Y/N: Well, thanks for the pick-me-up! LOL

Mama Katsuki: Any time. Now call Headphones or whatever. I already sent her a message, she’s free.

Y/N: That’t really thoughtful.

Mama Katsuki: Fuck you.

…Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

*The potato hides behind the sofa and waits for the comments section to blow up* 

TL: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @kastuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore

[thefangirlfever]

I needed to make a post about this because...well, the title says everything.

First of all I would like to say that I'm feeling a bit anxious sharing my thoughts about this. I don't know if I'm the most qualified to talk about this but it has been bugging me.

I know a lot of people have already discussed the way Miguel, a POC and a latino man out of all people, has been oversexualized to a point that it feels fetishy and a bit concerning sometimes. I think we can all acknowledge this and that already gives us a lot to think about.

But what I think is really interesting is that not only is Miguel an intentional thirst-trap, he is a thirst-trap created mainly by a team of male producers/ writers. From what I read, the people in charge of his character design were men (I want to say that I am by no mean attacking anyone who worked on this movie. They did an amazing job and I am just sharing my thoughts, not saying they are bad people for this choise or anything. Thank you).

And I find this very telling. Because when I first saw this headline, I thought "Oh finally, women have been given the chance to freely thirst over a male character the same way men do." And I think it was a big mistake from me to think this way. (First of all, there are also men and non-binary simping over him). Because, let's be real for one second there, do we really want to thirst over characters the way men do? I have been an anime fan for years and let me tell you, the way a lot of men/ fanboys view female characters is simply gross (I know, I know, not all men). It's also something I noticed in comics and video games. Like, have you seen the outrage when a video game studio wants to propose female characters who do not look like what some p*rn addicts imagines women are?

My point is that Miguel has been created not with the female gaze in mind, but with the male gaze (and it hurts to say this). That's what I got from reading the part of the interview. The emphasis on his butt, the overly masculine, muscular body... Miguel was created not by following what women like in men but by what men imagine that women like in men.

This is also something we can see a lot in various medias over the last years, especially in the romance genre. The way some "desirable" men are depicted do not fit what women seek in a partner but what men imagine women want (ofc every woman has different criteria when it comes to this). I think it's very blatant when you compare medias written by and for women like Shonda Rhimes's shows, Bridgerton, Outlander... and medias written by men. So, in the end, I think that Miguel has been created with that in mind "Let's make a big, tall, dark and broody, muscular matcho man. That's what the female public wants." (ofc it's never as simple as that but you get the idea).

So... does this mean that it's bad to simp/ thirst over this character? Surprisingly I'm going to say no and I even think that it's important that the women in this fandom keep making content around Miguel! Because when we write fanfictions, draw fanarts of him... we are now picturing him with a real female gaze and that's what brings even more complexity and depth to this character.

I have seen so many interpretations of this character since I joined this fandom and a lot of them were really cool/ beautiful, showing just how much people love this character. When you think about it, it's crazy that a character who only got 15 minutes of screen time can have such a strong effect on a fandom, meaning that he is more than just a thirst trap. I genuinely think that the content created by the fans gives this character his humanity back (because, yes, being sexualized to no end deshumanizes a person. Go argue with a wall, thank you very much). I've seen so many tender, soft but also funny depictions of him making him more than just some ass shots on the big screen. And even on the NSFW corner of the fandom, some people out there are really making him more than just this "feral beast" that we have been sold by giving him back his tenderness, his sensuality...

So, yeah, take this headline with care and think what you want of it. Those were just my thoughts. Feel free to disagree, tell me if I got something wrong or just leave your thoughts under this post because I'm genuinely curious of seeing other fan's opinions. I apologize for the mess of this take.

And now I'm going back to sleep.