#anyway I have so much more to say but that’s just why it doesn’t make sense

[rninies]

✮ she looks just like a dream

౨ৎ sunday x reader. fluff, fem!reader, ceo!sunday is really hot idc, inspired by tears of themis marius card (iykyk), sunday might be ooc im sorry </3 — wc: 2,836

notes. guys i love sunday i want him so bad please

you hold on to the folds of your dress as you look around at the throng of people around you. two days ago, sunday extended an invitation to you to come to a charity auction he would be hosting tonight. one of his assistants had picked you up soon after you had finished with your paperwork, and here you are, taking in the wondrous architecture of a famous resort’s lobby.

everything looks so expensive here, you think, a grim expression on your face. rich people do have it easy, huh.

“please wait here a moment,” his assistant tells you. “i’ll get your registration finalized for you.”

“thank you.” you smile at him, watching her round the corner and leave you alone. again. you desperately want to give sunday a call, but you know he must be busy greeting guests and taking care of the preparations, so with a heavy sigh, you decide against it.

as you watch the stream of wealthy-looking people come in, a conversation catches your interest.

“who does sunday think he is? ordering people around like that!” you turn your head to see two people, seemingly a bit older than you, talking to each other. “i’ve been in the family's corporations longer than him, so there’s nothing to be afraid of!”

you are just about to approach them, but his assistant bustles back with papers. “your registration is done. come with me, i’ll lead you to the venue.” you turn your head back, about to protest, but causing a scene would be more than you bargained for, so you reluctantly follow him into the elevator.

an awkward silence engulfs the metal box you both are standing in before the assistant breaks it. “you don’t have to worry about what he said. he’s been like this for a long time.”

“eh?” you chirp, shocked. “y-you heard that?”

“yes,” he chuckles. “it’s quite common, i would say. i’m quite used to hearing those awful remarks they say about master sunday. he said he doesn’t mind, anyway, so it’s no use trying to defend him.”

you smile a bit at that. typical, indifferent sunday. “yeah… that’s true,” you murmur as the elevator comes to a halt. when you step out, you immediately feel overwhelmed by the flood of people greeting you.

maybe it’s because you’re used to only seeing a few people in the law firm and the fact that you don’t go out to parties often that you feel nauseous at the sight of the overcrowded room. you tried searching for sunday through the mass, but your height makes it harder for you to see above people’s heads.

you eventually spot him reclining in a chair, talking to a few people you recognize as the VIPs of the event. he looks like he isn’t going to finish any time soon, so you wave your hand and mouth that you’ll be waiting for him as sunday glances at you. your boyfriend gives you a small smile before turning his attention back to the group.

there is something different about sunday on this occasion, you decide. you’re used to seeing him in suits at important events, but the fact that his family crest is embossed on the suit makes it so much different. he looks so… different.

“y/n?” sunday's voice knocks you out of your daydream and back into reality. “why do you look so dazed? do i look so attractive that you aren’t able to take your eyes off me?”

your face flushes red, quickly turning away. “w-what are you talking about? you don’t look attractive. i was simply thinking about what drink to get,” you say, regaining your composure. though, you aren’t able to deny the fact that sunday is indeed attractive, even in his normal attire.

curse him and his family genes, you think to yourself.

“eh? love, why are you so mean to me these days?” sunday whines, his infamous puppy dog eyes coming into play. he always uses them on you, knowing they have such an effect on you. there isn’t a single moment in which the use of his puppy dog eyes doesn't make you tell the truth or agree to something he suggested. you, however, learned how to resist sunday's temptations.

“never mind that, mr. sunday,” you remark, a twinkle in your eyes as you look up at him. “if you were busy, you didn’t have to come to me. it looks like people are still wanting to talk to you,” you say, looking around at the throng almost surrounding you both. sunday gives a little chuckle.

“mm, that’s true. i’m quite famous, aren’t i?” sunday returns rather smugly, making you frown. “i’m just kidding! either way, i’m pretty sure they already understand that if I am currently talking to you, i don’t want to be disturbed because no one is trying to disturb-”

“excuse me, master sunday,” sunday's assistant appears, cutting sunday off abruptly. “there’s someone here who’d  like to speak to you.”

the heir of the family sighs. “you really had to choose the worst timing,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “okay, i’ll be back, so stay put,” sunday continues, leaving to follow his assistant. you watch him until he’s out of sight, getting up to choose a drink. refreshers in every shade of color are laid out on the table that you almost don’t know which to pick.

“are you having trouble choosing a drink, my lady?” an unfamiliar voice emerges behind you, and turning around you realize that it is one of the men complaining about sunday in the lobby. “you don’t look too familiar with these drinks so how about you let me help you, hm?”

you cringe slightly at the attempt to flirt, but you offer him a smile in hopes of being polite. “oh, um, no thank you. i can get someone else to help me.”

the man shows no signs of leaving you alone, making you even more uncomfortable. “are you sure? all of the staff are busy as of the moment, so i can help.”

i might as well accept his offer. he doesn’t look like he’ll take no as an answer, you grimace before forcing a pleasant smile on your face. “okay, sure. which drink should-”

“ah, there you are!” sunday materializes, wrapping a hand around your waist and leaning over you. “i’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart,” he drawls, you raise an eyebrow at the use of the new pet name. you soon catch up with the fact that he’s trying to help you out of this awkward situation.

“sunday! sorry for disappearing. i got thirsty and wanted to get something to drink so here i am,” you take a look at the man beside you, who lets out a ‘tch’ with a scowl on his face and leaves, allowing you to let your breath go. “thanks, sunday. he wouldn’t leave me alone ever since i got to this table.”

“yuki, huh,” sunday mutters, arm still around you. “he’s always been trying to get on my nerves. ever since i was revealed to be the heir to family corporation, that is.”

“really?” you query, surprise crossing over your face. “i overheard him- oh!” an exclamation leaves your sentence hanging as a waiter accidentally bumps into you, spilling the drinks he was carrying onto your dress.

“ah! i am so sorry, madam!” the waiter panics, whipping out a few napkins in an attempt to wipe away the mess on your dress. “i wasn’t watching my step, please forgive me!” he looks even more nervous when he glimpses sunday standing beside you with a minuscule frown on his face.

“hey, hey! it’s okay! this happens a lot during parties anyway,” your try at calming the waiter down wasn’t working, so you nudge sunday to help you reassure the former.

“ow!” sunday hisses, tenderly rubbing the area you elbowed. “i-it’s okay. just be more careful of where you’re going next time, okay?”

“yes!” the waiter squeaks out and leaves, but not before gracing you with another ‘sorry!’ for his mistake. as soon as he disappears, a small pout envelops your face.

“aw, now what am i supposed to do?” you wonder, patting your stained dress with a few more tissues sunday offers you. “I don’t have any spare clothes.”

“hehe,” sunday's little laugh catches your attention, and you furrow your eyebrows in reply. “you, my lady, are in luck because you have the sunday as your boyfriend and he’s always prepared for emergencies like this. come on, let’s go to the guest room.”

“why are we going there?” you question. you’re used to sunday and his little surprises, but you never imagined that he would have a spare change of clothes lying around for you to wear.

“to get you to change, of course!” sunday responds enthusiastically, grabbing a hold of your hand. he finds his assistant first, though, “if anyone asks where i am, tell them i have an important matter to take care of.”

you let out a giggle. “really? important matter? how is this important?”

“that’s because you’re always the most important in my eyes,” sunday tells you with his boyish grin, and he says with such ease that your cheeks are dusted pretty pink. you smile to yourself, a giddy grin, feeling as if it were only you and sunday in the world.

“okay, here we are,” sunday says as you arrive at a room, unlocking it with a gold-clasped key he procures from his pocket. “you can go ahead and change. i’ll wait out here.”

you nod in agreement, entering the room and shutting the door behind you. your gaze immediately falls upon a strikingly gorgeous violet dress laid out on the bed before you, adorned with layers and layers of deep purple that glows under the soft moonlight; complimenting the necklace spread out beside it.

at first glance, it seems like a normal necklace anyone could find in jewelry stores, but as you step forward to take a closer look, you let out a soft gasp: your name is engraved on it. you pick it up, noting how the necklace itself feels expensive.

though, you suppose, you should be used to expensive gifts from sunday. the man had been doing this even before they were dating. you let out a fond sigh; a small smile on your face as you take your dirty dress off to change into the one sunday had prepared.

sunday didn’t have to wait long for you, for you soon opens the door. sunday eyes widen, staring at you in the dress and the necklace he had bought two weeks previously. you look stunning.

you look like you had just stepped out of a fantasy royal novel.

a princess.

you look just like a dream. the prettiest girl sunday has ever seen.

“sunday? hello?” you wave a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his daydream. “h-how do i look?”

“gorgeous,” sunday isn’t able to say anything other than that; his mind malfunctioning faster than his coffee machine had done this morning. “it-it looks really nice on you. i mean, of course it does, i was the one who chose that dress anyway.”

you press a quick, gentle kiss on sunday's lips, causing sunday to freeze on the spot for the second time that evening. “thank you, sunday. i loved the necklace too, by the way.”

sunday gives you a small smile and another peck on the cheek. “let’s go. the auction is about to start soon,” he says, extending his hand to you and feeling his heart flutter as you take it.

the room they had left is filled with even more people, and if you were being honest, it was suffocating you. you take a seat close to the brightly decorated stage, watching sunday take control of the whole room.

“everyone, welcome to the second charity auction event hosted by the family corporation!” sunday exclaims joyously, as the people in the venue applaud politely. “i won’t be taking too much time for tonight’s opening ceremony, so, without further ado, let the event start!” sunday bows, and signals to the auctioneer to take the lead as he returns to your side.

the auction, with quite a few bidders raising the prices of objects you think shouldn’t cost more than a few hundred dollars, goes smoothly until it reaches the last object.

“alright, our last item for tonight! an amethyst hairpin starting at the cost of one thousand dollars!” the auctioneer states, waiting for bids.

“two thousand!” a hand emerges from the crowd.

“tch… three thousand!”

“three thousand five hundred!”

“four thousand!”

“ten thousand,” sunday interrupts smoothly, shocking both you and the audience. you stare wide-eyed at him, in disbelief that he would bid that much in an auction you didn’t expect him to participate in.

“ten thousand dollars from mr. sunday! going once,” counting down, the auctioneer stares around, but no one seems ready to object. “going twice… sold to mr. sunday at ten thousand dollars!” applause erupts from the audience, congratulating sunday for obtaining the hairpin. you clap as well, figuring out who sunday would spend that much money on a hairpin for (though, to be honest, you already have a feeling who it’s for).

you soon find out though - his assistant soon brings the hairpin over to sunday, who inspects it closely, smiling as he hands it over to you. “here, it’s for you.”

“eh?!” you cry out, in shock, that sunday would be giving you something worth more than your whole apartment. “wh-what do you mean? i thought- wait, huh?!”

sunday only laughs gaily at your reaction, eliciting the attention of bystanders. “why are you so shocked? the necklace you’re wearing costs almost as much as this hairpin. plus, this is a thank-you gift. i know you don’t really like going to big events like this but you still came.”

“of course i did,” you beam softly. “you’re my boyfriend after all - wouldn’t miss any of your events for the world. now, did you want to place the hairpin on me?”

sunday nods, sliding the hairpin slowly into your beautiful hair. the light shade of purple the hairpin reflects matches the dress you had on, and the sight makes sunday's heart fill with joy. 

there’s something about you that feels different in sunday's eyes. you look so… dazzling and gorgeous that he fumbles for words to express himself.

“hm, it matches you very well as expected,” sunday says, a soft tone engulfing his usual cheeky voice. “now then, would you like to escape, my lady?”

“huh?” the sound barely leaves your mouth before sunday drags you away from the auction site, quickly getting into an elevator and pressing the doors shut before anyone could catch up to them. as soon as it opens again at the lobby, sunday makes a beeline for the exit, you thankfully not tripping on your heels.

sunday spots an empty park up ahead, and as expected sunday dashes across to it, letting go of your hand as you both drop to the grass.

you both lie in silence for a few moments, panting, before bursting into sweet laughter that interrupts the solace of the quiet evening.

“that… was probably one of the most epic moments i had… since forever!” sunday exclaims, turning to you with happiness painted over his face. “i was surprised you didn’t try protesting in the elevator.”

“how could i?” you return, out of breath. “i wanted to get out of there… as well. as much as i liked being with you in the family's events, i’d rather have it this way. just the two of us.”

“hm. just the two of us, huh? aw, you flatter me, baby,” sunday coos at you. he suddenly sits up, fumbling through the folds of his suit and sighing in relief when he holds his phone up. “oh, thank god. i thought i left my phone back there,” giving you a small smile, a familiar song starts playing. “would you like to dance, my lady?”

you take his smooth, outstretched hand, placing both hands on his broad shoulders while sunday places one of his hands on your waist.

you both aren’t doing anything special, barely any experience in dancing, and yet your bodies flow gracefully to the tune of the gentle song across the chilly night wind, dancing slowly under the glow of the moon. 

with your foreheads pressed against each other’s, you lock eyes, basking in the beautiful moment together. relaxing never came easy to you both, given your incredibly busy schedules, but once given the chance, you both will take it in a heartbeat.

the familiar worries of being rude don’t cross your mind at all, realizing that you’re too focused on sunday. slow dancing in the dark with only the moon to light their dance floor, away from the chatter of the crowd. absolutely perfect.

the song quickly comes to an end, ending your lover’s dance with a small brush of lips.

“i love you so much, sunday” you whisper softly.

“i love you more, love,” sunday replies, the ghost of a grin upon his lips.

#kylin.writes #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #sunday fluff #sunday hsr #sunday honkai star rail #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x y/n #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail sunday #hsr #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #hsr sunday

[jennifer-jeong]

[Fluff + Angst] [Wanderer x Reader] Human

SUMMARY You make him feel human.

CONTENT Angst to fluff, mentions of Wanderer's trauma, mentions of suicidal ideation, he's kinda mean to you at first, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR'S NOTE THIS IS WAS INSPIRED BY YOU MY POOKIE @thepurestgirll TY FOR BEING SO SWEET ESP BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE MANY MOOTS JFKDS;LAJ I love your fics and aesthetic and I hope to continue to see your content because I will always be here to love and support it >:)

Word Count: 854

Quiet sobs rack through the empty metal chamber. In the middle sits a man puppet of a man. Clutching the electro gnosis to his chest as his tears pelt the cold floor. Wasn’t this all he ever wanted? He finally has a “heart,” he should feel human, loved, and fit in now, right? But why is he crying? Why does he still feel hollow? Why does he want to give it all up to just be a normal human? Why did his mother create him this way just to throw him aside and make him suffer even more? Why not just have killed him long ago? Should he do it himself? Be free of this wretched body? Be free of all the earthly pain?

So many questions swirled in his mind. His gentle soul has been beat and battered to the point where he doesn’t know the meaning of peace anymore. He’s been alive for so long, chasing the same answer, the same goal. Yet, here he is. So many questions and not a single fucking answer.

Even after all that extra bullshit with Nahida, the traveler, and Irminsul, he only got bits and pieces of answers he needed. He was still lost and hurting, not that he’d ever admit that. So naturally he’s a complete ass to you when all you’re trying to do is help. You’re another adventurer and you often help the traveler when needed. You witnessed a good amount of Wanderer’s tragic journey in Sumeru and afterwards asked Nahida (his mom) if it would be a good idea to try to talk to him. She said yes but that it’d be quite… difficult.

You persevered, though. Through every insult thrown your way, all the times he ignored you, and even the times his attitude almost got you hurt when adventuring. After weeks of it, he found himself here, crying, but this time, in your arms.

He was yelling at you like he usually does but this time it was because you almost got crushed by debris while you two were out on combat commissions. He was telling you how stupid you were, how it would’ve gotten you killed, and how he… couldn’t let it happen. You smiled at him, hearing him say something caring for the first time since you started this whole mission of yours. You walk towards him slowly as he continues to insult you.

“You stupid humans, you never think before you act. Imagine what would’ve happened if I didn’t call out to you to warn you. You-… You’d be dead! I’d spite you because of it! You and your human body, so fucking fragile. Why did I ever want to be like your kind anyways?”

As you close the distance, he gets panicked and confused, shouting at you.

“Why are you even still here anyways?! Isn’t all this too much for you? Why would you want to help someone like me? Don’t you know I’m not human? Why would you want me here? Why would you want to stay? W-why…”

You reach out your arms to slowly envelop him in a hug as his tears well in his eyes. He puts his hands on your shoulders to push you back lightly as if he didn’t want the contact, but he was barely putting up a fight. You both knew that if he didn’t want you to touch him, you wouldn’t even be able to.

“Why… do you even care about me,” he croaked out as his voice started to crack.

“Because I see all the good in you, and I want you to let others see it as well,” you say gently as you pull him close, arms around his waist.

He feels his emotions finally boil over as waves of sadness wash over him. His legs fail under him and you lower the two of you to the grass. He buries his head into your shoulder, sobbing harder as your warmth permeates his body that has only known the cold for so so many years. His arms clutch your head as he stains your shoulder with tears.

You feel so warm. You feel so human. It makes him feel human.

You’ve been taking such good care of him and he doesn’t think he deserves it, but he doesn’t voice it to you, at least not now. You let him cry it out while patting his back. You imagine he hasn’t ever been comforted while crying before and it’s what’s making him cry harder.

You two end the afternoon with him exhausted and you offer to let him rest his head on your legs. You pat his hair as he drifts into sleep, feeling safe for the first time in a long while. The sun warms both your bodies and you bask in it.

You two probably have a lot to talk about when he wakes up. But you stay silent for now. Enjoying the peace that he rarely gets to have. It’s a long healing journey ahead of you two but this puppet man knows that he wouldn’t rather embark on it with anyone else.

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

#wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #j's silly ramblings #scaramouche x reader #balladeer x reader #reader x wanderer #reader x scaramouche #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer angst #scaramouche angst #wanderer fluff #scaramouche fluff #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader confesses to the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Anon request: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub, react to shy gn crush confessing to him nervously?

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A/N: life became hard for 4 full days and writer's block hit me with the power of a thousand suns. Then I went to therapy and I immediately started writing. Here it is, folks, 1899 words.

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Mammon

There’s no doubt that Mammon loves to have fun. Either counting money at casinos or wildly drinking and dancing at various clubs, the sight of him with the occasional fling by his side is not a strange one for the demon folk.

He doesn’t look for it; it’s not like he needs to, anyway. After all, who wouldn’t like to be with The Great Mammon? He’s a catch!

But no, it isn’t something he needs to feel good. His heart beats for one thing and one thing only: money. Gold sparkling on his fingers and coins filling his pockets, what else is there to live for?

His brothers would never understand him. When Beel empties the kitchen it’s cute, but when he steals Levi’s figurines, Asmo’s jewellery and Lucifer’s wallet suddenly it’s a problem.

And what’s his punishment? Taking care of a dumb, weak, boring human.

You better leave him alone, MC! He’s a very important demon and he has very important things to do! Don’t you listen to what his brothers say about him! Listen only to him!

Also, pay him attention and ignore the others! He’s so much better, you know? Can’t you see by now? He wishes you did and he isn’t sure how he feels about it.

The pang in his chest, his reddened cheeks and his avoidant gaze aren’t things he’s used to, but they become the norm once he spends more time with you.

Enduring his brothers’ jokes and taunts is humiliating and he perfectly knows he would act the same if he wasn’t the one involved, but damn MC, why do you have to be the way you are? Why are you so easy to fall in love with?

You have to feel the same, right? With your stammering and your bashfulness, you have to feel the same.

Mammon thanks his Father when you invite him to your room out of the blue and blurt out your feelings. The situation is ridiculous, he’s sweating buckets and your hands won’t stop shaking.

He tries to confess back without directly saying he loves you.

Key word ‘tries’.

Leviathan

Love is not for him, or rather, he’s not made for love.

That’s just who he is. A shut-in who finds companionship in fiction, in the idealization of friendship, romance and loyalty. His expectations are set way to high, near long opening titles and uninterrupted rambles, and he doesn’t expect people to reach them. Is he even worth the effort?

He has internet friends who he met through online gaming and forums and he cherishes them very much, but it makes him feel lonely and insecure sometimes. What type of life do they have when they’re not gaming or role playing or just talking on video calls with him? Do they act like plain old normies, taking their partners out on dates or having lunch with their classmates after class?

He prefers not to think about it.

Your arrival to the Devildom doesn’t change his life at all. He’s curious, sure, but what are the chances of you sharing his interests? Also, you quickly become friends with Mammon, which says enough about yourself.

At least, that’s what he thinks at the beginning. Time passes, as well as the TSL quiz, and he immediately realizes that you’re not who he thought you were.

There’s no judgement in your eyes whenever he rants about the latest piece of media he has consumed, instead filled with curiosity and fascination; and not only you’re the sole person in the house that doesn’t make fun of him, but you also defend him against his brothers.

His romantic feelings for you grow strong and fast, but your friendship is what’s most important for him.

You’re so, so much better than what he initially thought, even when you remind him of himself sometimes.

The glint in your bashful gaze, the doubt in your words in search of the right ones and the everlasting fidgeting with your fingers. You are the perfect romantic interest from the perfect otome game and he can’t believe how lucky he is to be the main character.

When you finally confess to him under the comfort of the blue lights of his aquarium, you’re barely able to finish your sentences while looking at him, which in reality is a blessing, because he can’t bring himself to look at you either when he confesses back.

It’s awkward, but sweet. Kind of like him.

Satan

Romance is for him what a painting is to the viewer. A novel to the reader.

He understands the significance, the words, the colours. What the creator wants to portray and what the consumer interprets. Narrative rules, the significance of flowers, metaphors, history… All of that mixed with the abstract of the mind.

He understands.

He just doesn’t feel it. Not at its full potential, at least.

There had been partners in his life, years ago, and he knows he’d loved them, but he wasn’t in love with them. Whatever line kept him from going forward with his feelings is what made him stop trying alone.

Books and cats and the Anti Lucifer League are enough for him to be occupied. They also make him happy, so his views on romantic love are easily set aside.

He doesn’t think much of you at the beginning, mainly because he doesn’t expect you to last very long, but you quickly show an amount of potential he’s ready to exploit.

Diavolo dreams of unifying the three realms and Lucifer would do anything to not spoil those plans, so what better way to annoy his brother than through you?

It’s selfish and reckless and of course his eagerness screws the whole thing up, but it ultimately helps him realize he shouldn’t have underestimated you.

You are kind, brave and smart. You see him beyond his wrath and his academic knowledge, remembering him even in the smallest of details that surround you. It was such care and affection that made his feelings grow.

For the first time in his very long life he starts to relate to the characters in his books, his heartbeat increasing when the scenarios feel too familiar or when the dialogues replicate exactly what he yearns to say to you.

It’s thanks to his novels that he recognizes your feelings. The shy and endearing romantic interest quietly approaching the main lead, confession learnt by memory.

His first reaction is to be surprised. He doesn’t expect something like this to happen to him, let alone you being the one to reciprocate his feelings. How much luckier could he be?

Asmodeus

What better love exists than the one he feels for himself? He’s beautiful, charming, adorable, addictive and every other compliment in the book. He can’t get enough of them!

He’s obsessed with the idea of being surrounded by people, by their affections and their devotions, touching him, looking at him, singing him praises. Unfortunately for everyone else, his narcissistic tendencies only grow when those that fall under his charm feed into his “delusions”.

That’s how Mammon calls it, at least.

At the time of receiving, he doesn’t distinguish between romantic love and sexual attraction, although it’s more difficult for him to reciprocate the first one.

Deep down, hidden amongst his insecurities, Asmo believes no one would love him for his truest self. That’s why he insists on looking perfect at all times, following a strict sleep schedule and a well-balanced diet, going out to remain in everyone’s minds; always a trending topic, a sensation.

If his outstanding physique and impeccable personality aren’t enough for you to know he’s the best amongst his brothers, then his charm would do the work.

But it doesn’t.

When he purposefully makes eye contact there’s no sign of you falling for his magic and, suddenly, he finds himself at a loss of words.

He doesn’t panic too much, given that he is still a beautiful and powerful demon that could devour you in a second, but knowing that there’s no barrier between the two of you to protect his vulnerability gives him an unpleasant feeling of exposure.

Surprisingly enough, it’s also your resistance to his powers what centers his attention on you. You’re one of the very few people that knows him as he is, even with the ugly parts, and it doesn’t take too long for his affections to become obvious and somewhat desperate.

Asmo is elated when your behaviour around him changes. He recognizes the pattern, since he’s seen it many times in his fans, and he can’t believe that someone who’s seen him at his worst still considers him as beautiful as those who have only seen what he wanted to show.

Although you don’t really need to confess, due to him immediately wanting to be with you, hearing your feelings spoken out loud sends his heart into a frenzy rhythm.

The attention fuels his ego, sure, but it’s the veracity of your words what makes him want to cry out of happiness.

Beelzebub

He’s not really interested in relationships. There is a fling here or there, sure, he still has other type of urges, but he hardly thinks about it.

The feeling of emptiness follows him around like a metal ball and chain and the only consumption that can give him relief, even if temporarily, comes only in the form of food.  

He’s often seen as emotionless or famished and, although he knows he’s popular amongst many students, his height and muscles make him look too intimidating to engage further than necessary.

It isn’t something that bothers him at all. His love goes straight to his family and there’s nothing food can’t fix.

However, when he is told Belphie is the demon chosen for the student exchange program, the hole inside of him grows deeper and deeper. His urges go on a rampage and Lucifer has to give him a pep talk to drill into his brain how important it is that you are to remain uneaten.

It’s not like he’s very interested in you anyways, so leaving you alone doesn’t feel like a draining task.

Of course that changes when you physically put yourself between him and Lucifer. A stupid, idiotic, reckless decision that serves to prove how brave you are.

Your friendship quickly blossoms after that and, unlike many other people, you start seeing him beyond his hunger. That makes him cherish you even further, but it’s your dedication to helping his family what sparks a romantic interest in you.

Since he’s not that experienced in that regard, it feels a little intimidating, but you make it seem easy and effortless. The both of you are equally shy in your affections and there’s a mutual unsaid understanding that helps you build the base of a relationship, so the confession isn’t really necessary.

Still, hearing you say the words makes his heart flutter.

His response is short and blunt, but sweet in nature. He is blushing the whole time, not breaking eye contact with you, and for the first time in many years, he feels completely satisfied.

.

.

Tagged: @darkflowerav

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me requests

[mournings-stars]

Alright so let's go with fluff for my fave angels Adam and lute

How would they react with their gf who's a magnet for kids?

Her ass would say that she's not fit to be a mom but kids immediately gravitate towards them and labels her as their mother figure, in mere minutes after they had met her

It'd be so adorable

"I don't know if I'll be a good mom." Then you see her giving a kid, whom she just met, piggy back rides. Like, they instantly trust her?? How????

i totally forgot this was in my drafts guys i swear im coming back LMFAOLO anyway this request is cute asl and i went a lil off topic but trust its still fluff

so first up we got adam

so adam is actually a kid person… once you’ve been around him a while

don’t get me wrong, he calls them “little shits” “gremlins” “hellspawn” whatever he can come up with, but he does want his own — like he was created for this… which when you think about it makes you a little more nervous because he would arguably be a good father in your eyes (idk ab arguably but just roll w me) just based off of this information right? you, on the other hand, weren’t made for this

“do you think i’d be a good mom?” you’d ask one day, totally out of the blue, and adam would probably choke on his own spit. “are you pregnant?” would be his first question, expression not giving away any kind of feeling he would have if you were. when you shake your head, he sighs and that makes you feel worse

but, like, it’s adam — he didn’t mean to make you feel bad, and he definitely thinks you’d be a good mom so after a while, sometime later that day, he’ll bring it up again cause he can tell you were overthinking things

“you know, if you were… yanno,” his eyes went to your stomach, “i’d be really fucking stoked.” and he kinda doesn’t know what you’re upset about, which is completely evident when he mentions how much of a milf you’d be before telling you how good of a mom you’d be, but at least he got there! and he made you laugh in the process

whenever you’re talking to an angel with a kid, adam will point out how the kids are always drawn to you; asking questions, talking with you, and even giving you hugs when you leave

he would not let you go on thinking you’re going to be a bad mom, like if you do ever express that you think you would be a bad mom, he’s not taking you seriously. “why don’t i put a baby in you and we can find out?” is his response, and, “adam!” is yours as he just shrugs

lute on the other hand

maybe you’re already working with kids, like you might work close with the church’s daycare or do some work (not teaching) at a school, so even though you don’t work directly with kids, you still see them often and that really makes you want a child of your own

when you tell lute this, you also tell her your worries about not being a good mom. at first she doesn’t say much, not wanting to invalidate your feelings… but she thinks they’re stupid

instead she talks to the daycare or school and sets you up with one of the programs after your usual shift, making another angel take the day off so that you had to cover for them on short notice

she’d come to bring you a snack in the middle of your shift and just see how good you are with the kids, reading to, playing with, and talking to them while they were just so drawn to you and wanting every bit of your attention

she’d definitely help you out, enjoying the opportunity to play house with you as you showed her what to do. then she’d stay until it was their nap-time. she didn’t bother saying what was obvious, knowing she’d proved your doubts wrong just by the way you smiled and laughed with the children

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel heaven #adam hazbin x reader #adam headcanons #adam hazbin #hazbin adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #lute headcanons #hazbin lute #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel fluff #adam fluff #lute fluff

[emmasbrain]

Miscommunication (the fun kind) Part 2

This is part 2, trust when I say it makes very little sense without part 1.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Synopsis: You meet him for your date, but it’s cut a little short.

Warnings: None I can think of other than cringe writing.

A/N: This took ages man, I don’t know what happened but I just felt a block so many apologies for taking so long.

As you click the little green button, you feel unnecessarily nervous. “Hello.”

“Hi.” He replies, and the smile that graces your lips can be heard from the other end of the phone.

“Doc. I’m glad you called.” You try to play it cool, but you know he can sense your excitement anyway.

“I’m glad you asked me to. Look, I’m on my way to a case right now, but I was thinking that when I get back we could do something? Go for dinner, maybe?” He sounds as nervous as you feel, and your heart spikes a little.

“Dinner sounds great. Have you thought of a place?” You do a little spin in the living room of your small apartment and you hear chatter in the background of the call.

“There’s this little restaurant that I normally get takeout from. I know them pretty well so they’ll keep me a table on short notice. They’ve got everything so statistically there’s bound to be something you like.” The way he speaks reaches a spot in your brain, fast and passionate, even about the most mundane things.

“I know I’m gonna like it because you do, and I trust your taste.” You bite your lip, wondering if that was too much.

“You should, I’m very particular.” His voice betrays the fact that he’s grinning, and you match his expression.

“I like particular. Particular is good.” Your voice has dropped a little subconsciously, and he’s about to reply when you hear the familiar voice of Agent Hotchner alerting Spencer that they need him.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you when I’m home?” You almost sigh in contentment at just the sound of him, but you snap out of it quickly to reply.

“I’ll be waiting patiently, Doc. I’ll see you.” You hang up, and stand in the middle of your living room for what seems like an hour but truly is only a few minutes. Why are you so attracted to this guy you only met a few nights ago?

But you feel as though you know him, from the way Penelope has talked about him, from the time you spent together. You feel as though you know them all.

—

You just sent in the final draft of your latest article. This one had been an absolute nightmare, being asked to write a piece on climate change. Your editors loved you for your fresh takes, but after so long there was no angle on climate change that hadn’t already been written. They seem fairly happy with it, but you can’t help the nagging feeling of wishing you could have done the proposed piece on how tourism is ruining the economy like you had wanted.

Through the annoyance of knowing you could have done better, you still feel slightly more at ease knowing the article is finished and out of your hands, and that you can relax and drink your fourth mug of coffee for the day. It’s eleven am.

But as you stand to stretch your achy muscles and make some fresh coffee, your phone rings. You know who it is before you even pick up, but make sure to check anyway just in case.

‘Spencer’ flashes on your screen, and you immediately sit down on your sofa, hitting the answer button and taking a readying breath.

“Hey Doc.” Your voice is unintentionally airy, but he doesn’t seem to notice - or he pretends not to - as he replies.

“Hey. I got back from work late last night, but I didn’t wanna call in case you were asleep. I was just wondering what you had planned for tonight?” The grogginess in his voice is evident, and it raises a question before you can even think about answering his.

“Spencer, how long ago did you wake up?” The simple question makes him go quiet for a moment before he speaks.

“I woke up just before I called you.” He sounds nervous to admit it, like he’s embarrassed to be caught thinking of you so soon into his day.

“Must have been thinking about me in your sleep then. And to answer your question, I’m free tonight.” You can’t hide the tinge of satisfaction knowing he thought about you maybe as often as you thought about him.

The small breath he sucks in doesn’t pass by you. You may not be a behavioural analyst but you are a damn good journalist, and you know what that little breath means. It says “you caught me”. Was he really thinking of you in his slumber? You note it down in the back of your head to try and slip out of him later.

“Would you like to go for dinner to that restaurant tonight?” He seems to have composed himself as he asks his question, and you try not to sound too enthusiastic as you eagerly say yes. “Okay, great- that’s great! I’ll pick you up at six… I don’t drive.” The defeat in his voice makes you laugh.

“How about I pick you up?” You suggest, calming his nerves. “You can tell me where to go.” Truthfully, you had already planned to drive him. Penelope told you once how he doesn’t drive, and you called her two days ago to reconfirm. This information, however, is not something you feel the need to tell him, because it seems a little obsessive - but you were just thinking logically of course - and you don’t want to weird him out quite so early.

He seems to be okay with the idea, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t take it as a blow to his ego like most men would. The call ends after a few short pleasantries - that are actually pleasant - and you immediately get to work.

You throw open the doors of your wardrobe and go straight to the dresses, very slowly narrowing it down to two options. A flowy red dress that you almost go with, and a simple black silk dress that ends just below your knees.

This one is for special occasions, and you deemed this a pretty special occasion. As you rummage through your box of shoes and stack of earrings trying desperately to find earrings and heels in the same colour, you come across a pair of purple strapped heels that you know you have drop earrings in a similar shade to. You just can’t find them.

Suddenly you notice that it’s 12:30 and your brain short circuits. Your entire room is thrown upside down and inside out until you find the earrings you’re looking for, and then neatly arranged back to its original state, all within thirty minutes. Now you have your little purple dewdrops and your outfit is complete, but you have four and a half hours until you need to leave and you know you’ll need it, albeit mostly to panic.

Four hours passes and you’ve showered, shaved, styled your hair and put on some light makeup. Your nail polish is just dry and you have your dress on, so you buckle your heels and stand. Twenty five minutes before you can leave. That’s not bad. You just have to wait twenty five minutes… But what if traffic is bad? You should probably leave fifteen minutes early for that, right? And if you think about it, the time between leaving your house and getting to the car wasn’t considered in the time it would take you to get there, and if you drag it out that’s a good five minutes. So really you only need to leave in five minutes. But what’s the point of waiting five minutes really? You should just leave now. Good idea.

As you park at his apartment building you realise you may have been a little over eager. The drive was ten minutes shorter than expected, so you’re around thirty minutes early. Which is embarrassing, so to speak. But you decide to head up early, a gut feeling telling you that it’ll be beneficial.

As you knock, he immediately opens the door and then a sheepish look comes over his face. “I saw you get out of your car.” He nervously rubs his hand on the back of his neck and it makes you smile. Then you take in his attire. He looks similar to when you met him in the bar, although he’s wearing white converse to match a white shirt underneath his brown suit. He’s also sporting a watch, and - most importantly - glasses. Damn those fucking glasses.

You realise you haven’t responded and are now intensely looking at his eyes, and he looks a little uncomfortable.

“Shit- sorry. I was just looking at you- I mean you look good- Great! You look great. You look… pretty. I like your glasses, do you wear them often?” Although you can feel yourself rambling into oblivion, you somehow can’t stop the flood of words that come out of your mouth.

His mouth opens for a moment as though he might speak, and then it shuts again. He stands aside to let you come in. “I never let you in.” He comments, sounding apologetic.

You shake your head in reassurance. “That’s alright, I wasn’t sure if you would even be ready since I’m so early. I never meant to be, I just kind of over thought it and now I’m here.” You wring your fingers together. Spencer noticed that you do it as a nervous habit when you met in the bar.

“I was ready an hour ago, I’ve just been reading while I waited for you. You can sit.” He motions to his sofa, and you sit next to the armrest so that you can turn and lean your back against it to face him sitting a little away from you. “You look beautiful. You remind me of a painting called ‘Madame X’, you probably know it. You could almost be a modernised retelling. Did you know that the painting caused an extreme public discourse as people thought the artist, John Singer Sargent, made the woman look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed.” He says all this with a little grin, and you can’t help but grin along with him.

The decision to tease him comes before you can truly think about it. “You think I look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed, Doc?” As the words come out of your mouth, he pales slightly.

“No, of course not! You remind me more of the principle. The woman was so beautiful she was renowned for her looks. Painters had all but begged her to do a portrait before, but she declined until she found Sargent. But even then, the people of Paris thought the painting didn’t do her beauty justice. Despite this, the painting became famous and beloved for hundreds of years around the world, and to this day is still considered a work of true historical art. A timeless beauty. That’s how I think you look.” His passion for little things shines through again, and your mouth is left slightly agape from his words.

“That was…” You can’t even think.

“A lot, I know. I tend to ramble a lot. I don’t really notice that I’m bothering people until it’s too late.” He rubs the back of his neck again, and the thought of people being bothered by him sends multiple emotions running down your spine.

You reach over and grab his hand with one of yours, the other going to touch his face. “I was going to say, that was awfully considerate of you. Never assume that you’re bothering me. Talk quite literally as much as you please, I want to know what you want to say… If we weren’t on our first date I’d readily teach you exactly how much I enjoy when you talk, but that can be saved for another time, maybe.” Your voice drops nearer the end, and he picks up on it as he sucks in a breath and nods vigorously.

“Definitely- I mean yes, sure. I will keep that in mind.” He’s still nodding as you smile at him, a proper smile.

“You’re pretty when you get flustered. You get all red, from the tops of your cheeks all the way down your neck.” You silently wonder if it goes further. You wish you could check. The hand on his face trails down his neck as you speak, emphasising what you mean.

He gets redder. How can he get redder? “Pretty. You’ve used that word on me twice now.” The comment seems to be more of an observation than a question, but you answer it as though it is one.

“I think you’re pretty. Handsome is a word I dislike. It reminds me of Ken, like Barbie and Ken. You’re not a doll, you’re a man, who just so happens to be pretty. I could call you beautiful instead, I’d say that adjective very accurately describes you too. Gorgeous, if that’s something you prefer.” You relent as the redness gets impossibly worse, and it makes you feel a little guilty. “Sorry, Doc, I just like seeing you flustered. I’ll call you handsome or something more masculine if you’re more comfortable with that.” You give him a little smile and pull your hand from his face.

He wouldn’t say it out loud but he wishes you would keep it there. He grasps your other hand tightly in his, and he shakes his head. “I don’t mind. You can call me whatever you feel like… You’re wearing purple. Purple is my favourite colour.” He looks away for a moment, and it warms your heart.

“Purple suits you, as a favourite colour I mean. Mine is green.” Your voice holds a gentleness in it that comes with caring for someone. It’s baffling. You’ve known him days. A week at most. You shouldn’t feel so… warm around him.

“Green makes sense. I think purple looks best on you though, which is definitely coming from a place of bias.” This makes you laugh, small and breathy, but he smiles at the sound.

You don’t realise how much time has passed until you hear a buzzing noise, and you both realise it’s a phone ringing. It’s coming from the other room so you assume it’s Spencer’s and he quickly gets up to answer. You can’t hear much from the wall between you, but when he comes back through looking thoroughly disappointed, you can tell it’s a work call. “Serial killers don’t stop for first dates sadly.” You remark, and he looks a little surprised.

“How did you know?” He questions, coming closer to you and you stand up to face him.

“I may not be a behavioural analyst, but I can tell what that face means. It means ‘I’m so sorry but I have to go stop murders’.” You smile to try and reassure him, but you can see the cogs whirring in his brain.

He seems to be thinking too many thoughts to process, but suddenly he dips down and kisses you. It’s short, but it’s soft, and you have a look of surprise on your face as he pulls away. “I wish we had gotten to go on our date, but I really wish that this doesn’t stop us from going on another one.” He looks at you in anticipation, and you melt.

“I wouldn’t pass it up for the world, Doc. Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll drive you there. We can plan the next one in the car.” You kiss his cheek and go to sit back down, and he shuffles away to his bedroom with a stupid smile tugging at his lips.

A/N: So… thoughts on part 3 with newly established relationship reid x reader ? Equally, thoughts on me adding smut somewhere along the line?

#criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #fem!reader

[southparktexts]

HEY TOBESS!!!

ok so i maybeeeee want main 4 ( or main 3, i really don't care for cartman ) x reader

but like them playing BOARD GAMES (or video games) with reader

like pure fluff and it's so cute and yadadada

I'M NOT CREATIVE OK.

anyways LOVE U TOBES

– an🎱n 🤭🤭🤭

( i'm lttr requesting u every 2 seconds keeping u on ur toes fr. ur never getting rid of me HAHAHAHA )

ANONNN FINALLY I GOT UP TO THIS REQ OF FUCKING COURSEE

main 3 playing games

kyle :

- okay i better not hear ANY fucking complaining in the comments because i play this game

- he plays valorant.

- NOW I KNOW IT SOUNDS BAD BUT HEAR ME OUT

- having you sit on his lap as you watch him play

- giving you kisses in between rounds where he dies or buying

- if he’s playing competitively and he’s losing the ONLY and only reason why he’s still calm and not losing his shit is because of you.

- if you’re getting bored he’ll purposely die just to cover you in kisses

- i feel like i should add some valorant and kyle headcannons so LET. ME. COOK.

- clove // killjoy main

- he loves playing support, not a duelist type of guy

- doesn’t like playing heals

- rank is definitely bronze

- peak at one point was probably gold

- prob spent all his allowance on skins

stan :

- whoever disagrees on this, fuck you

- hear me out

- league.

- HEARRRR ME OUT.

- toxic league boyfriend and supportive girlfriend dynamic

- he likes you on his lap, not facing the screen but him.

- like when hes playing and your head is buried into his neck.

- you’re also probably one of the thing that keeps him calm at this point

- … and not loud

- literally if he’s alone he will scream to fucking loud at teammates

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING??”

- besides that.

- the toxicity on him is crazy insane when it comes to league

- one time some girl tried to hit on him and he literally got comm banned for being toxic..

- whoops?

- he is one of those people who will whisper i love you in your ears during rounds and plays with your hair if he died.

- knowing him, hardstuck bronze 3

- peak silver 2

- watches dantes ngl

- main Vayne or Darius

kenny :

- as much as i hate to admit it. this man is poor.

- his favourite game is roblox

- unlike stan and kyle he actually wants you to play with him

- as much as he prefers you to sit on his lap, playing with you is so much more fun

- i can see him having those new avatars with face tracking

- definitely plays a lot of arsenal

- 1v1 ‘s between him go crazy

- blames every death on ping.

- HE HAS ROBLOX VC

- hear me out dahood vc with him would go crazy

- once there was an ‘deep voice’ eboy trying to hit on you.

- lets say that ended up with a community voice chat banned for 3 days and also a bunch of stomps

- hes so protective of you

- literally FORCES you to wear matching fits with him in roblox

- you guys get called edaters.

- kenny also unironically plays dress to impress and royale high

- he also unironically MAKES THE BEST FITS???

- hes special like dat ;-;

#kyle broflovski x reader #south park x reader #southpark #southparkheadcannons #southparkimagines #stan marsh x y/n #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/749218521745145857/while-i-love-some-queergay-whatever

“Kissing on the forehead isn’t necessarily romantic” makes sense if we are talking about a work of media that is made in a time/place where that was a common thing between same gender platonic friends.

But are you, anon? Or are you talking about like, a piece of Western mass media from the past 50 years? Or are you talking about anime — because if anything, kissing is even more loaded in Japan than it is in the West, especially if there are other people around. (Lots of people in anime fandom love to use “but Japanese culture” arguments to no homo, but are banking on no one reading them actually knowing jack shit about Japanese culture — because it’s almost never true or based on any real Japanese cultural difference, there’s just making shit up. It assumes people will take for granted anything that frames Japan as “foreign and inscrutable and impossible for Westerners to understand” which is just Orientalism tbqh)

Just saying, because I almost never see this shit said about like, a novel from 1820 or something from a culture like, say, some Middle Eastern countries where men kissing other men platonically is a thing…. and almost always see it said about current media from a culture where kissing on the forehead would be seen as something you’d likely not do to a platonic friend of the same gender.

You can’t “impose your cultural norms” on something from the same culture as you lol, or something from another culture that has the same norm! And an (for example) American assuming that modern American media plays by the rules of modern American culture and seeing it through that lens, doesn’t necessarily mean that American is unaware that different norms exist in different cultures. But like… it just makes sense to analyze a current American show for American audiences set in America in the modern day through the cultural standards of 2020s America and not, say, Bangladesh or Namibia or 1850s America.

And on another note, if you were as much of a fan of “queer readings” as you claim to be, you’d know that they often have little to do with authorial intent. In fact, it’s often specifically about reclaiming media that didn’t have you in mind as the audience.

(Seriously, I really doubt you have read many of those queer readings, bc if this bothers you so much, the stuff queer studies academics and cultural critics see as “gay subtext” in old Hollywood movies — hell, the stuff that gay, bi and sympathetic-straight directors and actors and writers often very much INTENDED as gay subtext in those movies — would make your brain explode.)

Anyway, we’ve all been in fandoms where there’s a ship some people insist has a ton of subtext but it’s just two guys sharing a scene occasionally and they just WANT to believe it’s there when it isn’t, and it can be annoying sure if there are so many people insisting this that it’s inescapable and becoming fanon that affects the fic about the ships you like, or if they’re pushy and sanctimonious about it. (My current fandom has a group of people who insist the only reason other people don’t see all the “subtext” for their random rarepair is racism or something, and then ignore how much textual stuff they have to deliberately leave out or misinterpret for their reading to “work” lol. Like scenes where their starry eyed expression is directed at a different character and that’s obvious in the actual episode but not in their selectively edited gif set or meta post.) But that is not the same as doing that with KISSING ON THE FOREHEAD ffs. And also, let’s not pretend that slash (or femslash) shippers are the worst offenders, like het shippers — and the broader culture — doesn’t constantly treat “a man and a woman interact” as meaning “they could/should be a couple,”

If you’re not bothered by that, but you’re bothered by when people do it with two men or two women… yeah you gotta ask yourself why that is. I have an idea why, and it’s not bc of your greater cultural open mindedness lol

--

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Gregariousness (Geo x Sociable and Loud! MC/Reader)

For @ch1mmichurry! Hope you enjoy Anon! :] - Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer Gregariousness: the quality of enjoying the company of other people.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Geo…well…to say he resents noise would be an understatement.

He prefers solitude, silence, serenity. You, on the other hand, are the opposite of all 3.

You’ve always been the life of the party, the one willing to perform stupid stunts or sing karaoke because…as you quote: “Why not.”

You remind him way too much of Deryl, which he also doesn’t appreciate, but hey, you’re friends with his friends, so he’s got to deal with you.

Only starts warming up once he realises you’re not an obnoxious little shit.

When you befriend the others, and start trying to talk to him (his attempts at intimidation only put a small dent into your confidence, unfortunately); he’ll tell you to shut up.

Plot twist, you don’t.

In fact, you make it a goal to try and talk to him.

“Geode! How’re you doin’?”

“Piss off.” 

Until the day he actually gets angry at you (mostly for existing).

Then you get crushed into smithereens a smidge upset and stop trying to get him to warm up (dw you’ve got Deryl and Crowe for emotional support).

But he got so used to it he honestly misses it (to his disdain).

So he starts anonymously sending you gifts, and learns to play the songs you like (in secret, obviously)

Will claim he ‘happened upon them’ if he ends up playing near you at some point (idek maybe their school have a theatre or smth???)

Anyway, eventually decides he’s fond of you (Geo thinking he’s fond of you actually means he *really* likes you btw)

Will approach you every now and then (he’s gotta worm his way in first, like you did to him), to the stage where he’ll just ‘coincidentally’ be in the same spots as you.

To him, you’re like a beam of bright light that sears away at the walls he’s built up over several years, and part of him yearns for said walls to fall. (Sadly that part of him is teensy small and it’ll take a long time for him to fully open up)

Doesn’t actively attempt to murder you if you call him Geode after a while, as long as Deryl doesn’t find out. Then he totally would.

If you’re more physically affectionate, he’ll rarely let you give him headpats. He’ll pretend he fucking hates them, but by this point you know him too well.

Doesn’t exactly understand why you need to socialise so often, but he won’t stop you…he simply wants to know:

Who you’re with.

Where you are.

What you’re doing.

Are there people he resents there.

Are you going to drink.

And that’s him being lenient.

Seems to be the most nonchalant mf ever, but trust me, if he ends up liking you, he’ll end up stalking observing you, ensuring you’re safe and making sure to swoop in as soon as he decides you’ve talked to enough people that day.

Essentially, he won’t be fond of the need for interaction (isn’t he more than enough?) but he’ll last. He likes his alone time, after all.

You both agree to try and improve (you talk quieter around him, he tries to be a tad warmer), and, if this mutually beneficial relationship situationship works out, well. He’ll appreciate it.

The fact you - despite still being a walking, talking megaphone - still actively make an effort is good for him; he has patience, he can wait as long as both sides show commitment to the cause.

Will ask you out at the end of school, so if he you died of happiness, no nosy shitbiscuits will try and pull something. (I think he is the type to believe in the Evil Eye, at least somewhat)

Because albeit your nature, people adore you…or hate you, but you don’t care.

So yes, Geode does lov- appreciate you. And will continue to do so. For the rest of his life. What can he do? He’s in love with very fond of you!

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------- A/N: Gonna work on a set of headcanons/short story oneshots for a...pretty angsty idea I had. (I love angst so much it's a tad concering actually)...but no matter! Send requests my way, I'm more than happy to oblige with requests. :]]

#geo subaru oogami #reminder that geo is superior #geo oogami #tkatb #the kid at the back #deryl helianthus #geode oogami #make that a fucking tag #subaru geode oogami #geode ideology #spread it #like you spread butter on bread #it must be done #but uh enjoy #teehee #also ch1mmi if you want me to make you anonymous I will do so asap. #tkatb_vn #tkatb vn

[interstellarlyinlove]

First Kiss (May 6th)

word count: 502

@wolfstarmicrofic

“Who was your first kiss?” Sirius asks, whispering. Remus drops the vial of crushed moonstone he was holding and it shatters everywhere. He apologizes to Slughorn and glares at Sirius. 

“You startled me,” Remus whispers. “And now we don’t have any moonstone.”

“You’re moonstone,” Sirius says, grinning. He waves his right hand in the air obnoxiously and the broken vial of moonstone repairs itself and lands on the table to Remus’ right. “We don’t even need moonstone for this potion.”

“Huh?” Remus asks. He’s not really using any part of his brain because Sirius doing wandless magic is so incredibly hot. 

“Crushed moonstone isn’t a Felix Felicies ingredient.”

Remus blinks. “Yes, it is. Look–” Remus holds up their Potions textbook to show Sirius and only then does he realize he’s looking at the ingredients of another potion entirely. “Oh.”

Sirius laughs. “It’s okay. It’s almost done, anyway. Who was your first kiss?”

“What is up with you today?”

“It’s not a weird thing to ask!” Sirius says rather loudly. Slughorn glares at them and they apologize together. Sirius clears his throat. “I know James’ first kiss.”

“Who was James’ first kiss?”

“Lily.”

“Awe.”

“You know my first kiss.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Only because you spoke of nothing else for ten entire days.” And Remus still doesn’t like Fabian Prewett all that much. Which is silly because Sirius is his friend and he can kiss whomever he wants. 

Right.

“If you know mine then I have to know yours.”

“Yeah?”

Sirius smiles. “I only follow the rules, Re.”

“You can’t get mad, okay?”

Sirius furrows his eyebrows. “Why would I get mad?”

“Actually, you know what, I’ve never kissed anyone. You got me. How embarrassing. Let’s just–”

Sirius stares at Remus funny for a few moments then his eyes widen. “No way.”

“I guess he already told you when–”

“Regulus?” Sirius all but screams. 

“Mr. Black!” Slughorn calls out, scandalized. “Is there a problem?”

Sirius says no. He turns back to face Remus. “I thought that was a joke!”

“It wasn’t a joke. It was mostly for practice before his date with–”

“Practice?” Sirius whisper-yells. 

Remus is suddenly having so much fun. He grins.

“No more kissing Regulus.” Sirius fake-gags. “Oh, Godric, I need to go tell Regulus to stop kissing you.”

Remus snorts. “Regulus isn’t kissing me. It was one–”

“I’m totally a better kisser,” Sirius says. His eyes widen. Remus chokes on nothing and starts to cough. Sirius hits him on the back a few times until he stops.

“I mean–”

“What does–”

“Enough, the two of you!” Slughorn suddenly says. Remus and Sirius both jump. Remus knocks down the moonstone vial and it shatters again. 

All of this is suddenly the funniest thing in the world. Remus has to stifle his laughter as Slughorn makes Sirius change partners for the rest of the class. Sirius is looking at Remus as he picks up his stuff and his smile is blinding. Potions is now Remus’ favorite subject ever. 

#flirty-not-in-a-relationship-yet wolfstar is my favorite now <3 #I had so much fun writing this it's entirely too self-indulgent lol #remus x sirius #marauders era #wolfstar #wolfstar drabble #my writing

[zukkaoru]

"maybe we shouldn't"

"weren't we dating?"

and a random word: green. for souheki =)

thank youuuu ela <3 starting off with. angst :-)

“Maybe we…shouldn’t,” Dazai whispers, though his hands remain firmly on Ranpo’s shirt. He doesn’t want to pull away, but this also seems a little too far for something that’s just a bit. Typically, he wouldn’t care so much, but—

Something about doing this with Ranpo specifically makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Why not?” Ranpo’s breath is warm against his neck. Dazai wants their lips back on his skin. But also he doesn’t. He wants to be as far away from here as possible. There is no one to watch them here, tucked away on Dazai’s futon in the dorm he half-cleaned for Ranpo’s sake. There’s no reason to perform.

Still, Dazai doesn’t have a good answer to Ranpo’s question.

“Because,” he says, the word clunky on his tongue. He hates not having a lie ready to go for every situation, but Ranpo could see straight through any falsities anyway. “Because this isn’t…”

Because this isn’t real.

It isn’t exactly fake, though, either. Not at this point. It’s sitting precariously on the line between, constantly in danger of tipping over. This would push it off the edge, but Dazai isn’t sure in which direction. He doesn’t want to think about it.

Ranpo exhales slowly. Dazai wants to keep them close—so close they cannot properly look at him, because then they’ll see everything Dazai doesn’t even know how to sort out himself.

But when they pull back, he lets them go.

Their eyes are shut. They appear vaguely conflicted. Dazai wants to run away and never come back.

“You’re right,” they agree, voice strained. “We shouldn’t.”

-

souheki secret exes (except they weren't even trying to keep it a secret)

“You’re such a liar.” Dazai pokes Ranpo’s shoulder, grinning playfully. “Remember that case we did together in Sendai? We went to a bar the first night and you finished your entire drink. So you have found one you like!”

Ranpo throws their head back, groaning. “That was so long ago, how am I meant to remember that? Besides, it was only because you figured out the right mix so I wouldn’t be able to taste the alcohol at all and gave the bartender very specific instructions.”

“Of course I did! I was a very good friend, even back then.”

Ranpo frowns. “Weren’t we dating?”

Dazai hums. He tracks back through his memories, slots the case in Sendai into the timeline chronologically and determines, “Yeah, you’re right. I was a very good boyfriend then!”

Ranpo snorts.

“Hey!” Though, Dazai can’t really protest—he’s a shitty boyfriend and they both know it. But he’s going to play upset about it just for fun.

However, when he turns away to cross his arms and pout, he realizes everyone else in the office is staring at them in silence. Wide eyes, confusion etched across their faces, even Yosano is looking at them with a sour sort of expression.

“What?” he asks.

“What the hell do you mean weren’t we dating?” Yosano demands.

Ranpo waves a hand vaguely. “We dated for a bit about a year after Dazai joined the Agency. I’m pretty sure you knew this.”

“I’m pretty sure I did not!”

Tanizaki raises his head nervously. “I…don’t think— think any of us knew.”

Naomi pokes her head around the corner. “I did! It was super obvious.”

Dazai chuckles to himself. At least he can count on one other person in this office to be observant.

-

green

Dazai fidgets under Ranpo’s gaze, eyes flitting anywhere apart from their face. His fingers drum against his thighs and he squirms in his seat.

Ranpo doesn’t break their stare.

Finally, Dazai whines, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you not like it?”

Dazai’s face flushes, albeit only slightly. Still, of course someone as observant as Ranpo is will pick up on it easily, and it’s not a sight Ranpo thinks they’ll be forgetting anytime soon. “No,” Dazai lies. “You…your eyes are too green. It freaks me out.”

Ranpo laughs. Dazai’s cheeks redden even more, but before he can open his mouth to say something else stupid, Ranpo reaches forward and tugs him into a kiss. 

#when the bit with your coworker goes too far and suddenly the two of you are undressing in your dorm and you're like... wait a second #this isn't something fake boyfriends do.................. #anyway ty again these were fun 🫶🫶🫶 #souheki #daran #ranzai #bsd #grace's writing tag #ela tag

[deepcreekvultures-writing]

"Tequila and Palmistry"

Spencer Reid x Drunk!Reader

Words: 4,754

Tags: Drunken Flirting, Spencer Reid Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid takes care of drunk reader, Spencer Reid Ranting, Mentions of Violence, Spencer Reid's hands, I Love Spencer Reid, Feelings, Idiots in Love, Drunk Reader

After a tough case where you were almost killed by the unsub, the team decides to go to the bar and unwind. While there, Spencer ends up having to keep you from going off the deep end.

==========

Watching you drink was like watching an Olympic sprinter in their prime. You were slamming shots back like they were nothing as soon as the team got to the bar. 

The last case was particularly intense for you, considering you fit the unsubs target perfectly. No one batted an eye at you nursing yourself with alcohol.

Except Spencer.

He had attempted to say something after your fourth shot, but Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered a soft “Let her have this, kid.” 

After your sixth shot of tequila, you moved on to tequila sunrises, which you went through like water. Gideon finally put his foot down after your third sunrise, instructing you to make the fourth last because you were being cut off.

Luckily for Gideon, you weren’t a mean drunk.

Spencer was surprised at how peppy you were under the influence. During cases, you kept your guard up, letting loose just a little when you were alone with Spencer, but you always kept it at arm's length.

At some point, you slid your glass into Spencer’s hand, grabbing Elle and Penelope by the wrists and pulling them to the center of the bar to dance. He glances down at the glass in confusion before looking up at Hotch and Morgan. Hotch smiles to himself, sipping on his beer, while Morgan whistles playfully.

“She trusts you with her drink, Pretty Boy. That’s an accomplishment.” 

“Actually, this bar invests in straws that are able to detect whether or not Rohypnol or any other drugs are in the drink.” Spencer responds, still keeping the glass in his grasp.

“I’m sure she’s too slammed to notice, Reid.” Derek chuckles in response.

“This is a one-time deal; next time we go out together, we have to make sure she doesn’t go off the rails like this again.” Hotch sighs, glancing over at you, dancing with Elle and Penelope, who are more focused on making sure you don’t fall. Gideon grabs his jacket, sliding it on.

“It was a hard case for her; she needs to let off some steam. Why aren’t you drinking anyway?” Morgan asks, leaning over to Spencer.

“I don’t really drink.” Spencer shrugs, flicking his finger against the smooth of the glass. His eyes trained on the straw in your cup. As much as he wanted to convince himself that you gave him your drink on purpose, it was just too unlikely for him to really dwell on it. 

Except he did dwell on it. 

His eyes slid over to you. Your hair fell over your face as you danced around, your features illuminated by the dim lighting, and your soft eyes shone as you smiled. Spencer isn’t sure how to feel about you being so drunk. 

On one hand, you were pretty much catatonic after your interaction with the unsub. You sat next to him in the jet, staring down at your dirt-covered hands, completely still for the almost 3-hour flight.

On the other hand, he knew you were only drinking to try and get the awful taste out of your mouth. The terrible twisting of your stomach that caused you to dry-heave in the jet’s lavatory for half an hour before takeoff. 

Gideon stands from his place at the end of the booth; he rounds the table and leans down to speak with Spencer. “You’re in charge of her.” 

All Spencer can do is nod, as Gideon leaves quickly after with not much more than a wave. But as you made your way back to the table, somehow finding your way between Reid and Morgan in the booth, he couldn’t help but feel relief.

He handed you the drink, and you took a small sip before turning your whole body towards him and looking him directly in the eyes. 

“Did you try it?” You asked seriously.

“No- No, I didn’t.” Spencer shakes his head, embarrassment tinting his cheeks.

“Whaat??” You pulled back, your face contorting into stern confusion. “You have to try it, now—here, here.” 

You held it out to him, your fingers delicately holding the straw for him.

Ignoring the snickers from the others, Spencer leans in and takes a small sip. The tequila burns, but it’s rounded out nicely by the sweetness of the grenadine and the soft tart flavor of the orange juice.

Clearing his throat, Spencer speaks, “Originally, tequila sunrises contained tequila, lime juice, soda water, and créme de cassis when it was initially invented at the Arizona Biltmore Hotel in the 30s or 40s.”

You stared at him as he spoke, wide-eyed with your lips slightly parted. You blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to follow what he was saying.

“The modern tequila sunrise was popularized in the 70s by the Rolling Stones when they were kicking off their tour at a bar in Sausalito, California.” You nodded slowly at his explanation, your lips pulling into a bright smile as you set your cup down on the table. 

He didn’t really think you understood that. But your face shone like the first burst of light at dawn, waking the morning flowers from the chill of night.

His face warms, looking away from you to glance around the bar. Morgan taps your shoulder, grabbing your attention. Using his hands to shield your ear, he whispers something to you, causing you to break out into a fit of loud giggles. Derek shushes you, laughing along.

Your hands find your face as you slump back into the booth, muffling your laughter into your palms. After laughing for a good five minutes, you drop your hands into your lap. Your face was flushed, your eyes moist with laughter-filled tears. Your lips are pulled into a bright, sloppy smile, your teeth shining against the dull light of the bar. A few strands of hair fell into your face.

Derek looked proud of himself, shooting Spencer with a knowing look. Gesturing to you, mouthing ‘go for it’.

Spencer ignores him, looking around the bar in an attempt to ignore the flushed beauty beside him. But you turn, grabbing his arm. 

“Spencer,” You shake him a bit, trying to get his attention. He was already looking at you, but you shook him anyway. “Spencer, Spencer, where’s Gideon?”

“Uhm, he left a few minutes ago.” 

“Oh, boo, how lame." You pout, your hand still firmly holding Spencer’s bicep. You turn your head, eyeing your drink. A grin creeps slowly onto your face.

“Don’t get any ideas. You’re still cut off.” Hotch interjects, noticing the way you were eyeing your glass. 

You deflate immediately, slumping into the seat, your hands falling into your lap as you pout. Spencer watches you, a little amused but ultimately concerned with your shift in mood.

After letting you stew for a minute, Spencer turns to you, clearing his throat before opening his mouth to speak. He falters, however, when he sees your face. 

Your bottom lip juts out, glistening under the light and drawing his eyes. Downcast eyes steal his attention from your lips, leading him to your upturned palms. Your pout melts into a deep frown, your inebriated brain feeding the memories of what happened just 5 hours ago.

“Uhm,” Spencer starts, leaning over to point at your hands, “have you heard of palm reading?” His voice is unsure, wavering a little as you look up at him.

You both nod and shake your head, your eyes widening a little as he pulls you out of your thoughts. Putting your hands down on the seat, you push yourself up, giving Spencer your full attention. You stare at him for a second before scrambling to show him your hands again.

“It’s also called palmistry or chiromancy, and it’s unknown where it originated exactly.” Spencer bites his lip, glancing down at your palms. “But it has ties to a lot of eastern cultures.” 

“Like where?” You ask, your voice insistent.

“Indian, Tibetan, Chinese, Nepali, Persian, Babylonian, Canaan, Sumer, and Arabian cultures have history with palm reading.” He lists, watching as you slowly tilt your head down, trying to follow his words. Your eyes never leave his face, squinting slightly as his words slip in one ear and out the other.

Deciding to just keep talking rather than waiting for you to speak, Spencer continues, “Palm reading uses the natural creases in the flesh of your palms to predict things about your life and personality.” 

Spencer hesitates before placing his left hand underneath yours, settling his palm against the back of your hands. Chewing on his bottom lip, he uses his right hand to map out your palms. His index finger hovers, making sure not to touch the lightly calloused skin.

“Are my palms-” You lean a little closer, your eyes wide as your gaze flicks between his face and your hands. “Are my palms whispering to you?”

You were whispering to him—well, more like mumbling. Spencer furrows his eyebrows, leaning back a bit.

“Are your- are they what?” He stammers, a smile threatening to pull at the corners of his lips. You giggle, letting your head fall forward and rest in your open hands. You stay like that for a second to let it out before lifting your head again.

“You’re so cute, Dr. Reid.” A heavy sigh follows that statement, along with a sloppy grin. Before Spencer has the opportunity to flounder in response, you continue, “What were we talking about?”

“Um... Palm Reading?” His slender fingers tap against the back of your hands mindlessly.

You purse your lips, squinting your eyes just a smidge before smiling again. 

“Okay, okay, keep telling me about it." You scoot a little closer, folding one of your legs under you, your knee knocking against his thigh. “Please?”

Your face was still flushed, though Spencer wasn’t sure if it was from the tequila that still lingered on your breath or from the fact that you were sitting so close to him.

“Oh, yeah- yeah, sure…” He bites at his bottom lip, looking back down at your palms. “So... the main lines used for palmistry are the life line, the heart line, the fate line, and the head line…” 

Spencer continues talking, making sure to keep his gaze cast down to your hands as he explains what people look for when reading palms. You stayed quiet, and he was almost positive that you weren’t listening; honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had fallen asleep. 

He maps out each line for you after thoroughly explaining what each of them meant. Spencer didn’t really believe in palmistry or astrology, but he had to admit that so far it was pretty accurate.

Especially when your life line described you as enthusiastic and courageous. 

That was one of the many things Spencer admired about you. You had no qualms about being who you wanted to be, and it gave him the confidence to do the same.

Though sometimes you had a hard time remembering that about yourself.

“…and your heart line tells us about your cardiac health, possible depression, emotional stability, and, um… and romantic perspectives.” Spencer swallows, his shoulders slightly hunched as he looks intently at your palms. You straighten up, drawing his eyes to your face. 

Your lips parted, your eyes holding excitement as you looked down at your own palms. Glancing up at him and meeting his eyes, you smile, the tip of your tongue fitting between your teeth. 

“Keep going.” You whisper, nodding at him incessantly. Spencer pauses, unable to tear away from the light shine in your eyes, illuminated by the warm lighting hanging from the rafters of the bar.

“…your- your heart line, um,” he stumbles over his words, snapping his head back down to look at the crease in the fleshy part of your palm. “Your heart line begins in between your middle and index fingers, and it’s straight and parallel to your head line.”

Spencer finally presses the pad of his finger into your palm, dragging it along the crease as he talks. He still cradles your hand lightly with his other, his thumb absentmindedly sliding against your knuckles.

“Mm, what does it mean?” You ask sloppily, your articulation faltering.

“It means that you are... caring and understanding.” He slides his finger back to where the line begins, noticing how your fingers twitch. “And that you have a good handle on your emotions.” At that, you laugh, gently bumping your head against his as you do.

“Doesn’t feel like it.” You mumble, your head partially sliding against his as you slump into him. Spencer stiffens at the contact.

“Sorry, ‘m tired,” You wiggle your fingers, attempting to draw his attention back to your hands. 

“So, like- does it say anything about who I’m gonna… marry?” 

“No- uhm, no, not who.” Spencer swallows; the weight of your head dropping onto his shoulder scrambles his thoughts. “But the marriage line is here.” He slides his finger to the small line underneath your pinky.

“It’s pretty straight, which means that you’ll have a long, happy marriage.” 

You hum in acknowledgment, looking down briefly at your palms before turning your hands over and wrapping your hands around his. Spencer looks up, making eye contact with Elle, who mouths a ‘wow’ before sipping her drink. 

His attention is drawn back to you as you drag yourself off of him haphazardly. You turn his hands, exposing his own palms as you lean down, hunching over them to get a closer look. 

There is almost no way you could even see the lines in his palms very well, considering that your head was blocking the lights. 

Lifting your head suddenly, Spencer has to pull back to avoid getting smacked in the face. 

“This line probably means that you’re suuper smart and stuff,” you say, tapping his head line with your pinky. “And this line probably says that you’re really cute, and this line probably says that you’re like… I dunno, a little silly." You alternate tapping at his different lines. You were trying—kind of. 

Spencer’s face grows hot, swallowing hard and trying to remind himself that this was just you, completely inebriated and not thinking straight.

“Silly?” He raises his eyebrows, watching your face with concern.

“Uhuh, silly. Like… like… I don’t know; you’re just silly. And gorgeous.” You look down at his hands and say, “And you have really pretty hands.”

Spencer stares at you, his mouth gaping like a fish as his eyes slide around your features. 

You blinked slowly, your hands sliding against his as you fidget with his slender fingers. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed way too loudly for the small bar. You pull yourself away from him, the force with which you do so causes you to tilt back and fall into Morgan. 

Spencer scrambles to grab your forearms, pulling you off of Morgan. “Are- are you okay?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“You don’t like it when people touch you!” You attempt to wiggle yourself out of his grip, failing despite how loose his hold was.

A deep pout rests on your lips, and you look up at him guiltily.

“No, it’s fine.” He tries to still you, embarrassed by your antics. “It’s okay; you’re fine, I don’t mind. Let's get you home, okay?”

“Huh?? No, no, I’m having so much funn” You flounder, slumping yourself into the seat in protest. You start to slide off the booth seat, your lower body disappearing under the table. 

Spencer stammers, hooking his arms around yours and attempting to keep you from slipping to the floor.

“Woah, no, come on, I’ll take you home and I can teach you how to read my palms?” He pulls on your arms, looking over at Morgan, who lends a hand by wrapping an arm around your torso and pulling you back onto the seat. Morgan snickers, but leaves Spencer to handle your state of unrest.

“I already know enough about you, gorgeous-genius-doctor-boy, but can’t you dance with me?” You whine, Spencer’s arms are still hooked around you to keep you from slipping away again.

“I- well… No- no, not here, we can dance at your apartment?” he suggests, gently pulling you out of the booth.

You let him pull you, offering little help until he forces you to stand. Staring up at him with a pouty glare, you huff, the gears turning in your head.

“Promise?” You hold out your pinky, wiggling it at him. 

He relents, hooking his pinky around yours. You smile, latching your finger around his in a tight grip.

“Okay! Bye losers!” You shout at the rest of the table, unceremoniously dragging Spencer away. He attempts to grab his bag from the booth, but your grip is too tight. 

Elle manages to toss it to him, his hands fumbling to get a good grip on it as he’s wrenched through the exit of the bar.

“Wait, slow down!” He yelps, shoulder-checking the door as you tug him down the stairs.

“Come on, pretty boy, relax!” You laugh

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Northbound.” You say, deepening your voice and pointing to your right.

“That’s east.” Using his free hand, Spencer spins you to face him. “We’re calling a cab.”

You scoff, letting go of his pinky finally as you flail your arms at your sides.

“No, what, no- no, no, no, I’m not getting buried again, Spencer." You whine, the weight of your words slipping off your shoulders, numbed by the tequila in your system.

Spencer frowns, his eyebrows raising slightly as he looks at you. Your loosened, drunken state could only mask your worries to some extent.

“You won’t be buried; I’m with you,” he says, placing his hands on your biceps.

“But you could get hurt... and I don’t wanna see your gorgeous face and body all... like... dead." Your articulation slips, words blending together. Tapping the tip of his nose with the side of your finger, you pout, shuffling your weight from foot to foot.

“I won’t die; I’m gonna get you home, and then you’re going to bed-“ A hand slaps over his mouth, a little harder than necessary.

“We’re dancing.” You say sternly, rubbing his mouth with your palm, when you realize that you hit him harder than intended. 

“Okay- okay, stop-stop doing that,” He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand to the side. “I’m gonna get you home, and then we’ll dance.” 

Pleased, you hum lightly, closing your eyes. “Let’s do it, honey bee.” 

Spencer ignores the churning in his stomach as he leads you along the sidewalk. Your hand slides around his body as you circle around him. Up and down his chest, around his waist, and up his spine. It was dizzying how well you were circling him despite the alcohol coursing through your system. You only stumbled once or twice, grabbing onto him each time to steady yourself.

Spencer was having a hard time keeping it together; it was already hard enough keeping his feelings to himself day to day when you acted like a normal person. Drunk you was making everything way harder. He wondered if he told you exactly how he felt if you would remember.

You weren’t acting completely blacked out drunk, and Spencer had never seen you like this before. He was just glad you were a nice drunk. And mildly manageable.

He was very glad that your apartment was on the ground floor; he didn’t have to worry about getting you up stairs. You stood next to Spencer, your right hand against the white door, as you fumbled with your keys in your left. Pouting down at the object, you let out an annoyed huff, tilting your head to the side and squinting at the ring of keys.

“Who needs this many keys?” You grumbled, letting your fingers go slack as Spencer takes the keys from you. 

“You, apparently.” Spencer smiles, finding your door key and unlocking the door. He ushers you inside, his hand finding its way to rest on your back, pretty much pushing you through the doorway.

Kicking your shoes off, you turn to Spencer “Shoes off, Cowboy, we can’t have my carpeting get all grody.” 

Spencer nods, smiling at the nickname but ultimately ignoring it. He takes off his shoes, setting his bag next to them, before straightening up and beelining to your kitchen. Opening each cabinet, he finally finds your cups. You stumble your way to lean on the counter next to him, pursing your lips at him.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, glaring at the cup in his hand as he fills it with water.

“Drink this,” Spencer holds it out to you. You just stare at it, pressing your lips into a thin line. “Please?” He sighs, pouting just a little. Your face lights up at his plea, your mouth falling open and your face flushing red.

"Spencer, you can’t do that, not fair.” You snatch the cup from him, chugging the water out of spite. Spencer watches you, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together in confusion. 

Slamming the cup onto the counter, you hold up your arms, “Okay! Dance time, come here!”

Spencer is dragged back into the living room, your hands firmly grasping his wrists as you walk backwards. He watches your path for you, maneuvering you gently to avoid your coffee table. 

Dropping his arms, you bow sloppily with a giggle, “May I have this dance?”

He chuckles, offering an awkward bow in response as he fumbles over his words, “Yeah- sure… okay.” 

You laugh, sliding your hands down his forearms, your fingers brushing against the center of his palms. Curling your fingers around his, you lift his hands, tugging him closer.

He swallows the lump in his throat as his chest presses into yours. Spencer chews on his bottom lip as you settle his hands on your waist. You smelled like tequila, but the scent of your shampoo still lingered in close proximity. You smelled good—drunk, but good.

“No music?” He asks, clearing his throat as your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

“Nah, my head hurts." You shake your head, guiding him in a small sway. Spencer was a little worried that you were going to have him actually dance, but he was happy to sway along with you. 

Your apartment was dark, only lit by the weirdly bright fluorescent light from your kitchen. You giggled quietly to yourself as you swayed, finding it a little difficult to get him to move with you. His heart rate calms slowly as you both sway in silence. You had closed your eyes, threading your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, tracing small circles into his skin. It was nice.

The heat of your body against his fills him with warmth, and he can’t help but look away. His eyes training on the light switch a few feet away as he wills his face to not get any redder. Your touch simmered against him, the low burning embers of his feelings threatening to ignite in the dark space of your living room. 

But you were drunk, and there was very little he could do to rationalize your actions beyond that. If you weren’t completely inebriated, Spencer might consider the fact that you might like him too. 

“Spencer,” you call out to him softly, goading him into meeting your eyes again. He couldn’t help but notice the gravity added to your previously weightless tone.

“Yeah?” He whispers his reply, his eyes returning to your face. The swaying continues, offering a loosely followed rhythm to the conversation.

“How did you feel?” You mumble back, letting your head fall back slightly. You keep your eyes on his face, scanning his expression.

“How did... what feel?” 

“Watching me crawl out.” You let out a small huff, as if he were supposed to read your mind, “Like, how did it feel for you?” Spencer freezes, his hands tightening their grip on your waist.

It felt awful.

Watching you, his headstrong, kind, confident, and loving friend, crawl your way out of a freshly packed grave. Hands bound, tears soaking mud to your cheeks, clothing torn, a hateful fire in your eyes.

It felt awful.

Watching you grapple with the unsub, using your bindings as leverage to choke the man out before crumbling to the ground in tears.

It felt awful.

Watching you bottle it up, riding to the hospital in silence, only letting the team touch you despite the insistence of the doctors. 

It felt awful.

Washing off your dirt-covered hands in the jet with a small rag he had found, soaked in the cold water from the lavatory sink. 

It felt awful.

But Spencer couldn’t claim that awful feeling, knowing that you must feel so much worse. You fought and fought for those two days you were held captive, feeding into the unsubs delusion to keep yourself alive.

You were the one who was thrown into a six-foot-deep hole and buried alive.

He’s not sure how to answer your question, but you watch him patiently, your fingers gently sliding down his neck. 

“I… I don’t know, I was- I was scared, worried..." He whispers, his stomach churning with the thought that he shouldn’t burden you with the way he was feeling. 

“You were scared…” Mumbling, you tilt your head to the side, your lips pursing and twisting to the side. “Is it bad… that you being scared for me, makes it hurt less?” Your articulation is off, and your words are almost lost to him. Inhaling sharply, Spencer leans forward a bit, his arms circling around your back and flattening against your shirt. 

“No, no, it’s not bad... How did it feel for you?” He asks carefully, watching your face as it contorts in ten different ways. You sigh heavily, your arms loosely resting on his shoulders.

“It’s the worst thing... you fight and you fight, you do what you can to survive... and then you get thrown in a hole and smothered in the earth.” You pout, tilting your head to the side, fiddling with your fingers behind his head.

Spencer bites his lower lip, his eyebrows raising in concern. He watches your face, your eyes glossing over, staring into the pattern on his tie. 

“Spencer… I dunno what to do with myself…” You murmur, pulling yourself closer and resting your forehead on his shoulder.

Tilting his head, his cheek presses into your hair. His hands press into your shoulder blades, giving you an awkward squeeze. 

“…you don’t have to know; we can just take it one step at a time.” He speaks gently, letting his hand circle over your shoulder blade.

“Ugh… your mouth words are so gorgeous…” You mumble.

Spencer isn’t really sure what you mean, but he decides to take it at face value. “Thanks?” 

You lift your head, a frown etched on your lips. As you look up at Spencer, the frown dissolves into a small smile. The bright lighting coming from your kitchen illuminates the side of your face in stark contrast to the rest of the dark room. 

“You’re so gorgeous in your face too.” You slide your hands around to bracket his face, squishing it a little between your palms. Spencer’s face grows hot under the feeling of your hands, his eyes widening a bit.

“If you ever, like- I dunno, do you ever think- like, think about kissing me? Cause… if you do, you should kiss me.” Spencer goes to respond, but you slap your hand over his mouth again, rubbing his mouth soothingly afterwards.

“When I’m sober! When I’m sober so I can remember and stuff…” You take your hand off his mouth, sliding the tip of your finger down the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh- uhm… yeah okay." He nods, biting his lip anxiously. His eyes flutter close at your touch, the heat of his emotions burning at the apex of his cheekbones.

You smiled sloppily up at him, content with the plan you set in place, guiding him into swaying with you again. Your finger traces his features loosely, your muscles relaxing into his touch as you start to come down from your drunken high. Tiredness crawls its way up your spine, settling into your eyelids, and you find yourself having a hard time holding them open. 

“When I wake up...” You start, letting your eyes fall closed, “…when I wake up, don’t- don’t let me push you away.” 

Spencer smiles at that, laughing affectionately at your words.

“Okay.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #no use of y/n #mild hurt/comfort #fluff #Spencer Reid's hands

[kinopio-writes]

Could you do one (similar to your sir pentious post) where it's Adam x Reader but reader is strong and tall w/ motherly/fatherly vibes? Could be any scenario but I feel like there is too many Adam x readers where reader is just a submissive short person lol 😭

A/N: I agree. Well, Adam would probably prefer a short and submissive reader, but I think that he also likes women who look like they can top just so he can get off from domming them. A big ego boost, probably. That’s just what I think, though.

Also, uh, I went with motherly!reader. I hope that’s alright. Still kept relatively GN.

Warnings: Sex stuff is mentioned, Vulgar language, Adam being Adam

———

Adam x Tall&Strong Motherly!Reader

• the moment he laid his eyes on you, he made a straight beeline towards you with only one goal in mind:

• that *censored*

• (sorry. I couldn’t commit to the bit. I wanted it to be readable to anyone. By that I mean it was supposed to say cu—)

• he would attempt to achieve that by:

• 1) flirting horrendously

• 2) boasting about how awesome he is

• 3) …

• ...he doesn’t have that many steps, actually

• he just assumes that would be enough

• and it is, right? Of course it is. I mean, why the fuck wouldn’t it be? Hehepshftfhjf—*incoherent blabbering*

• if you refuse…what the fuck is that?

• he’d reject your rejection (that depends on how you do it, though. But that’s not the point.)

• if you accept, he’ll act very smug as if he knew you would

• he cannot wait to fuck your brains out

• and he has no shame in telling you that

• unfortunately, you weren’t as submitting as he thought you would be

• and he would be stupefied at first when you try to override him

• he would think, that’s cute, thinking you were in charge

• but then, holy shit, he’ll realize that you weren’t trying to impress him or anything—you were serious

• topping? Him? Heh, that’s fucking stupid

• he’d probably feel uncomfortable if he didn’t have control during sex

• it just wasn’t his style

• and there was no way he was getting out of his comfort zone just for you

• well, he finds what you’re doing is hot, but he doesn’t actually want that to happen, y’know?

• and the result?

• casual dating

• it’s really nothing serious

• the sexual part of your relationship will likely not be exclusive

• during your time together, he’ll finally form some more decent opinions about you

• he’ll like that you’re strong—he finds it hot and badass—but won’t like it when you use it against him

• he’ll probably use your strength to his advantage

• like opening jars for him

• it’s not as if he can’t open them himself, he’s just lazy as fuck

• “(Nameeee), I can’t open thissss” is a thing you’d probably hear a lot

• anyway, uh, he’s not a fan of your height difference

• he doesn’t really pay much attention to it, though

• because out of mind, out of sight

• he will be pissed if you do anything that’ll make him feel small, even if that wasn't your intention

• now, about your motherly nature

• Adam’s never had any parental figure before—the closest one being Sera—so he’ll be even more childish in behavior

• he tries to get approval from you and turns to you for reassurance quite often (all of which is done subconsciously)

• he’ll say stuff like, “Right, (Name)?” while nudging you

• with the dominant thing, I think Adam is actually fine with it

• the only thing he really wants to be dominant in is in bed

• but in general? Where you insist on making shit easier for him?

• where he gets to work less?

• (e.g., offering to pay the bill, confronting others for him—‘he asked for no pickles!’, etc)

• he’d be a fucking idiot to refuse you—how could he not want that?

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #kinopiowrites

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

What ships do you do not like?

Im saving Huskerdust for last. I have way too much shit to say.

Aside from weird illegal ones and also disgusting ones, I am a very big Sir Pentious x Cherri Bomb disliker. It couldve been good but theres like no chemistry and Cherri doesn’t seem to actually like Pentious for any reasons other than he kissed her and then exploded and also weird double penis joke. Said it before, I’ll say it again, Cherri does not need a boyfriend she needs character development. If you’re interested in more of my hatred I have this rant abt it here

Valentino x Vox is another that I hate. I feel like I don’t need to explain why but I will anyway. I know they’re technically not canon anymore, but idk how I’m supposed to enjoy a ship between two characters when one is Valentino and also knowing that it was previously canon that Valentino has shattered Vox’s screen multiple times. Honestly you can’t even be like “well the voxtagram posts arent canon anymore so he’s not abusing vox” because you’re like objectively wrong. In the first couple shots we see of Vox and Valentino together Vox has an entire glass thrown at his head. Very important detail, he nonchalantly dodges it implying that while we know this is a common occurrence for Valentino to have violent breakdowns, it is also a common occurrence for Valentino to throw things at him or try to injure him in some way. Not to mention he seems very unsurprised when Valentino takes his phone and breaks that as well. Vox is also forced to walk on eggshells around this guy with how he talks to him. There’s literally no way for it to be healthy at all.

While I love the concept of Charlie and Vaggies relationship, it’s entirely brought down by Vivzies inability to write women and her lack of care for wlw relationships. There’s a lot of good rants about this, but I have so little substance to mention on these two it’s kind of hard to talk on. Vaggie doesn’t have much character development and Charlie is just incompetent all the time in the canon show and the only interesting stuff we got was from episode 7 (very good episode btw)

Any Alastor ship ever. End.

I do not like Huskerdust a lot of the time. I don’t enjoy how the fandom does it a lot of the time because they don’t really consider the others boundaries and just are like “well they like each other now so they should kiss!” And I disagree with that very hard. For how it is in the show, the best i've seen is the little bit in episode 8 which I really do enjoy but obviously there was no build up to it really so I hardly have much to grasp and I have to do everything myself. Relationships take a long time. That goes hand in hand with my rewrite also. Angel has harassed Husk and other people multiple times and that’s not okay obviously but for some reason no one acknowledges that?? The first step of them ever getting together or even being friends for that matter is Angel apologising. I will be mentioning my fuckass rewrite again just as an example of what I’d do, so I apologise! Everything from this chunk till the end is about how my friend and I have tried to fix this dumb relationship. It’d take him a little to mention it, but for how I’ve done it with my friend he ends up going out to dinner with Husk after rewritten episode 4 events and after getting texts from Valentino he starts reflecting on how bad Valentino and other people objectifying makes him feel and has that “..shit im doing that to other people.” And they have a little talk about it where Angel apologises for acting that way and tells Husk to call him out if he started doing it again on accident.

And it's not a quick fix conversation either, they aren’t magically best friends now and they don’t suddenly start being lovey with each other, Angel doesn’t even list Husk as a friend yet in his mind and has a bit where he only lists two people as his friends. There’s also bits of rewriting where Angel is yelling at Husk and ends up getting upset to the point he indirectly hurts Husk by throwing a wine bottle at him and Husk steps on the glass while he’s walking out. They talk it out again and Angel has another small crisis about potentially starting a cycle of abuse because his own trauma is shaping how violently he reacts to minor situations. Both of them need to work on themselves before they do anything. Especially Angel when he’s developed a habit of snapping and has a mindset that he needs to physically fight any potential threat away from him and it's leading him to actually hurt people. While that isn’t the sole reason he's in hell he's still in hell he is an objectively bad person and Husk has his own problems too especially when dealing with Angel specifically, both of them have an issue of pushing blame off themselves or shaming the other in overly stressful situations even if they don’t mean to. Husk has a tendency to shame Angel for his coping mechanisms and even if he's well intentioned with his criticism he gives it in a very uncaring and harsh way and will sometimes default to saying “I didn’t actually care in the first place” even if he does. They currently are not ready to be in a relationship together by any means, but fights help them reflect on themselves and of course at least Angel is at the hotel to be a better person. Charlie talks to him often and shows him it’s okay to confide in other people but that he doesn’t need to tell someone everything and that he can keep things to himself, and then the help from Charlie leads to Angel apologising again and trying to do the same for Husk like listening to him talk about his own issues and then giving input on them or just casual banter and so on. Both of them desperately need to work on themselves and they’re trying to do it together and I think when they're ready they’ll probably the best matches for each other, but you can’t just skip over the issues, the issues are the entire point of growing, that's why they are at the hotel.

#hazbin hotel #raimble #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #cherri bomb x sir pentious #valentino x vox #angel dust x husk #voxval #staticmoth #huskerdust #cherrisnake #anti vivziepop #tw valentino #cw valentino #tw abuse #cw abuse

[houserautha]

I've re-read TDE multiple times already and I find some new aspects of the story every time. I especially love how complex Feyd is. He has very cold exterior, but actually is very caring for the ones who deserve his devotion. This caring side of him is also very meticulous and detailed. Like the fact that he remembers the page number that reader has been reading or when he notices that Reader is upset or ill, when he sees that reader has never killed before. He actually is very attentive to other people's emotions, not in the aspect of empathy but in understanding. There is also a lot of honor in his actions. Yeah it is dark and ruthless but it is still honorable. When he deals with Zeev, when he protects the boys from the Baron, when he has regular meeting with common people, when he gives Reader an opportunity to exert her power as na-baroness, when he makes sure she understands that she is magnificient. He doesn't want a weak wife but still will do everything in his power to protect and defend her. I think he respects her because he sees the same honor in her. Let's just say he takes his wedding vows very seriously. Oh and the fact that he is calling her "my jewel"...s o b b i n g. Honestly the wedding ceremony was the most beautiful in a Harkonnen way. The salute is everything.

All of this is exactly why I can reciprocate readers feelings of heartache because of him, I hate that he has been hurt, a lot. It's kind of helplessness because there is no undo button, but I am here for their revenge.

The angst after the fall of the Atreides is unbearable. My heart aches for the Reader but at the same time for Feyd... You can feel the pain both mental and physical for both of them. It's kinda sick and twisted but in a natural for them way.

I love the banter between them as well, it's subtle but delicious, like the moment in the tub when he proves that he doesn't wrinkle.

I actually adore all of the details that you put in about the Harkonnens bodies, that they clot easily, don't wrinkle, black cum ...all of it is so fitting. I just love your Feyd 🥲

All of the above is just how I see Feyd's character and I may have made up a lot of things which you hadn't intended to, I am sorry for that.

Thank you so much for your work ❤️‍🩹

Omg no, I think you nailed everything about him so perfectly. He is such a complex character to me and I’m glad that multiple facets of his personality have stood out to you because I take very serious care of his character🥲

I think, yes, he’s callous and perhaps a lot bloodthirsty but he’s also been raised to be a leader and attentive to other people. Obviously in the books the Baron plans to put him as the ruler of Arrakis because he’s much more diplomatic than Rabban and I wanted to express that in this fic. He’s a monster but he’s also cunning and perceptive and intelligent and (sometimes) charismatic. And he would never actually say it (I don’t think he even completely understands how he feels) but he just really loves his wife🤧

His whole life everyone has expected him to be a certain way or a certain thing — a weapon, the father to the KH, a political pawn, but reader just sees him as he is. She doesn’t want to change him and she doesn’t ask him to be someone that he’s not. And that’s very freeing to him.

Anyway, it makes me so happy to hear that you’ve read TDE more than once and have found something meaningful in it every time. Thank you for reading my silly little thots about Feyd-Rautha and for supporting me with your kind words❤️

#these destined ends #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #dune #feyd x you #fanfic writing #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd smut #writers on tumblr #fanfic #writing

[hawkogurl]

I'll probably have more to say about this later bc I'm going to sleep soon, but I feel like, you, oliveroctavius, me, and a few other people are like the small minority I've seen anywhere who actually criticize TASM for the eugenics and ableism, and it honestly floors me that no one talks about it when it's so blatant and tumblr loves bringing up disability and ableism otherwise? Like, it's not even a case of how everyone has valid differing opinions and needs/wants when it comes to how the vast range of disabled experiences should be approached in fiction and there's nuance in how to do even tricky, but real experiences like grief and loss - we're talking about a film series where an antagonist meant to be sympathetic makes a speech about disability being a weakness of humanity that must be genetically eradicated to strengthen it (which is never deconstructed or challenged) and has no other characterization beyond sad amputee whose only interest for a decade is his missing arm, and where Peter is some kind of genetic chosen one whose Good Genes give him cool powers, and the whole mess with Harry.

The few other times on tumblr I've seen it brought up is to like, woobify (internalized) ableism even though the films go way beyond realistic personal struggle and straight into eugenics, and as someone with a Lizard niche in the Spidey fandom, I'm floored at how everywhere else, I keep seeing the TASM version of the character topping best adaptation discussions by a huge margin compared to way better takes with zero references of the ableism (this was not the case even a few years ago, idk what happened), and you can correct me on this if I'm wrong bc you would know more about the Harry side of things than me, but I feel like TASM!Harry used to be very popular and be moved, at least until MSM2017 and Insomniac came along.

Hi sorry my brother just graduated college. Anyways, in regards to the Harry side of things, I think a lot of the ableism SHOULD be pretty obvious, but apparently it’s not considering how little critical thought there is with all these villains. There’s the good genes bad genes eugenics of Harry wanting Peter’s blood to cure himself and then it doesn’t work because the spider only worked with Peter’s “good genes” (I don’t care about their in canon excuse, it still buys into this trope) and it reacted so badly with the TERMINALLY ILL CHARACTERS “bad genes” that he turned crazy and evil. And that’s ignoring my general distaste for disability or “insanity” being used primarily as a source of fear for the good, noble, and of course able bodied protagonists.

Something that’s also pretty weird that nobody mentions is the fact that like, Electro in these movies just HAD to talk to nothing. Normally it wouldn’t bother me as much or I might be willing to give it a pass, but it’s these movies, which just love to make their disdain for disabled people clear, so it comes off as super bad taste.

Like… I’m only scratching the surface. Why are there three people who consistently point out how ableist these movies are? Especially when as you said, tasm Harry is pretty popular! Ignoring my beef with him as a Harry Osborn, it’s so odd to me because so much of that is either like, sort of romanticizing his chronic illness and breakdown or getting off on that ableist insanity I mentioned earlier.

And when you bring it up, people get SUPER defensive. I don’t know if like, the amount of invalid criticism just makes people defensive or if it makes people think there’s NO valid criticism but like… these movies aren’t bad for the reasons you think. The issues they have are like… the writing saying that eugenics is cool and fun alongside generally iffy writing.

#I’m gonna tag #tasm ableism talk #for filtering #harryposting #harry osborn #peter parker #curt connors #max dillon #spider man #spiderman #tasm #tasm2 #the amazing spider man #the amazing spider man 2

[aroanthy]

i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc

#what am i trying to say here? #idk! think about all of the pieces you have #dying is complicated in ohtori in countless different ways #and i find it boring to see so much ‘this character is dead and that’s it’ stuff #when death is used farrrrrrr more figuratively than some ppl give credit for #and i think the movie too does wonderful things with death #and what ‘dying’ really means #being disbelieved. being forgotten. being rejected. haunting despite this #much more interesting to think about wrt commentary on abusive relationships than it is #to think about what?? oh me when my brother died but plot twist he’s alive and can walk on this road all cool. like????? #akio doesn’t have the power to make himself revenant #he THINKS he does and he absolutely has power when he’s alive and he imbues that power with such meaning that it does live on after him #but ANTHY. anthy is the one struggling with herself and her feelings and the impact of trauma and abuse (that power!!) in aou #he’s dead? he died? she brought him back through her memories? or she’s left him (metaphorical death) and he’s haunting her?? #all such interesting interpretations #i haven’t mentioned touga bc i don’t have the energy today. if dead and just illusion of others memories then why active. why awful #like in aou akio is only Obviously scummy when he’s alive. his illusory self is based upon anthy’s love for him #if anime!touga is nothing more than nanami/whoever’s memories of him before he died……. why does he actively choose to suck again and again #like nanami wouldn’t do that. unless it was meant to be a subconscious thing like ooo he’s dead all along but that’s not what her arc is #it’s not ‘he’s been dead all along’ literally or figuratively. it’s ‘he’s unsafe and i don’t want him’ #sigh. once again i am asking people to think about nanami and touga’s dynamic through touga’s eyes #it’s so interesting to me how people forget to consider his motivations or feelings on ANYTHING #like sure his motivations and feelings are scummy but they’re interesting!!!!! they intrigue me!!!! #compel me even #anyway ignore how i said i didn’t have the energy for this and then typed it all out anyway #dais.txt