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helluvapoison · 3 months

Text

Lend A Helping Hand

Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Vaggie and Husk need help preening

warnings: possible innacurate bird knowledge, heaven headcanons (also probably innacurate) illusions to sexual behavior but it’s not

[ii]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Lilith used help… when she was around. The thought of asking someone else, much less the act itself, scorched him with guilt

• Oh well. Lucifer did it before, Heaven had rules about it, so he can do it again! And of course he did! It doesn’t mean it’s not an excruciatingly long process he puts off as long as he can tolerate

• You walk in on him attempting to strain his arms in ways they certainly shouldn’t bend. “Need some help?”

• “Pfft, who me? No, no, no I—“ He pauses. It’s like the predicament he’s been caught in settles in slowly, his smile dropping and crimson irises widening to rival a puppy’s cuteness. “Yes.” He admits meekly

• Your fingers barely touch his feathers and Lucifer jolts. Like him, his wings are so sensative

• Don’t take it personally when he tries to back out after that, cheeks bright red from embarrassment. He has six wings and can barely tolerate your touch as is. This could take a while, he already feels bad

• After a teaspoon more of convincing and a gallon of reassurance later, Lucifer sits as still as he can (which isn’t very) while you gently break open the pin feathers

• You could tease if you wanted, make a joke to try and settle his nerves but something tells you his wings aren’t the only thing that’s sensitive

• Lucifer appreciates your assistance and tenderness more than words can describe, nothing seems like a big enough gift to reward your hard work

˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Usually it’s Lute that would help him (and vice versa if he feels like it) but she’s nowhere to be found. He can’t casually ask anyone else. Heaven and its inhabitants can be weird about certain shit, preening is no exception— even though everyone has wings here!

• Walking past Adam’s office, you heard a crash and a lot of swearing. “Sir, are you—?”

“Unless you’re gonna help, fuck right off!” He growls from the ground, still reaching at an awkward angle for his wings

• He’s shocked when you sit on your knees beside him and swat his hand away. “If you make this weird, I will leave.” You warn. He doesn’t dare make even a single comment

• Adam shivers when your fingers glide into his feathers. You wave it off the first time but can’t stop a laugh when it happens again

Face first into the carpet, his loud voice is muffled, “Shut! Up!”

• You take pity on him and don’t drag the process longer than necessary. Awarding yourself a final pet of his oddly soft wings, you stand up, “There. All better?”

• Rising to his feet and giving his wings an experimental stretch, he shrugs nonchalantly, “Thanks. I guess.”

• The next day, you receive a basket from Goody-2-Shoes with various snacks. The card reads, ‘Let me know when I can return the favor. Wings don’t have to be included. ~ A’

˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• You know she needs help when she’s more irritable than usual. Snapping at everyone, even Adam, and flinching when her wings move in the slightest

• Approaching the subject with her is harder than anyone. As aforementioned it’s unspokenly taboo but that isn’t what stops her. Lute’s deep rooted issues with intimacy and needing help will make her walls thicker than ever

• “This is inappropriate,” Lute whispers.

In the dead of night she’s finally allowed you to assist but keeps fidgeting and surveying the area like someone will catch you two.

“It is not,” You roll your eyes, “Get your mind out of the gutter and be still! I’ll have you’ll feeling better in no time.”

• She seriously, seriously doubts that. Anything she can’t do herself, amongst certain divine exceptions, no one could do for her

• …But she’s letting you help (and your adept fingers are doing a better job) So either she doesn’t fully believe that, or you miraculously raised her expectations

• Lute decides the latter is acceptable– and a compliment, especially since you prove her wrong. Triple checking her wings, she can’t find a flaw or deny how wonderful they feel now.

• “This is adequate.”

You snort, “You could just say thanks?”

“How can I repay you?”

“I just told you.”

• She narrows her eyes, shocked and suspicious that you wouldn’t want anything. Lute, again, decides that your endeavor deserves an equal act of goodwill. Don’t take it for granted when she says, “No. I owe you one. One.”

˚✧₊⁎ Vaggie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• She genuinely forgets what’s wrong with her when she needs to preen. Even with her wings folded away, the irritable pricking can be felt. She’s itching the back of her neck, hand clawing under the crew of her shirt and dipping between her shoulder blades when you ask when’s the last time she checked for pin feathers

• Vaggie’s always been independent. Up in Heaven she was a bit cocky with the fact she never needed help to reach them. Now, she felt helpless and stupid. Her arms cramped up, her hair kept getting in the way and the itching only progressed

• “Can I–?”

“No.” Her ivory eyes go wide, surprised at the fury of her own voice. Sighing and avoiding your (what she assumed was a) pitiful gaze, she apologizes. “Sorry. I don’t know why I… I used to be able to do this alone.”

Pausing at how defeated Vaggie sounds, you do your best to keep a positive, neutral tone.

“Cut yourself some slack, you haven’t done this in years. And, y’know, you don’t have to do it alone now. Not if you don’t want.”

• Smiling at the offer hanging in the air but not quite accepting, she goes about her managerial duties only to knock on your door afterwards

• Vaggie’s so grateful you can’t see how dark her face becomes as you sort through her wings. They’re not sensitive, they never were– it’s something about your fingers delicately touching her that cracks her resolve. Now she starts to understand why this was seen as an intimate act upstairs

• “Thanks for…” Still blushing, she gestures to her wings before hiding them, “Thanks.”

You try to keep up with her indifference but can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“No problem.”

• If you think she’s not replaying the moment over and over in her head for days afterwards, you’re wrong. Vaggie’s desperately waiting for the moment to be just as useful to you

˚✧₊⁎ Husk ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He’s hardly a fan of Angel touching him the way he does so a solid relationship is required to unlock the level of trust needed for this activity

• The first time it happens when you’re in his life, he won’t ask but also doesn’t reject the offer. Just looks extremely hesitant and uncomfortable

• Carefully, you pinch the rough layer and eye Husk from over his shoulder

• He breathes out a laugh, “Gonna take more than that to hurt me, sugar. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

• His wings might be the least sensitive… but that could also be all that alcohol in his system

• Husk hums as you work. After he gives a big, cat-like stretch and thanks you with a tip of his hat

• The simple gesture means more than you know, he’ll never forget it

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ accidentally on purpose put them from most to least sensitive wings hehehe

big big big BIG thank you to @kottenox for the inspiration and letting me take this idea and run!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #platonic or romantic #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar headcanon #hazbin hotel adam headcanon #hazbin hotel adam x reader #lute headcanon #lute x reader #vaggie x reader #vaggie headcanon #husker x reader #husk headcanon

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inkdrinkerworld · 20 days

Text

Reader takes bc and experiences nausea and loss in appetite because of it

“Spencer I’m not taking it and you can’t force me.” It’s Sunday, a day that used to be your favourite but once a month when you get your period Sunday becomes the day you take your first birth control for the month and you’re plagued with almost immediate nausea.

“Angel,” he coos softly, stroking your hand as you lay pitifully in bed. Spencer knows it can’t feel good, he’s been nauseous before and it isn’t fun. It’s even less fun seeing you so pale and bleak and a little down as you try to get a handle on yourself again.

“No,” you shake your head, turning away from where he’s got the box and a bottle water extended to you. “Can’t I just skip this month?”

Spencer knows it’s bad, it’s terrible on the best of days. But he also knows how bad it is when you don’t take the pills.

He doesn’t know how to make it better, he isn’t a medical doctor but he’s spoken to your OBGYN and she’d said to stick it out till your next appointment.

Except, sticking it out gives you intense sickness, a loss in appetite most days and a craving for refreshing fruits- like watermelon and cucumbers- when you finally do want to eat, which isn’t substantial enough to take any of your medicine.

“You know you can’t, angel.” He sets the things down near your legs. Spencer’s hand coasts your forehead and cheek. “Remember this is a new brand, the nausea is normal. I know it doesn’t feel good, but it’ll help in the long run.”

You know he’s trying to help but right now you don’t give a damn about the long run.

“C’mon, beautiful.” He’s pulling out the big guns now. Stroking your chin and calling you beautiful like that; all head in the clouds, full of love with his big brown eyes. “There’s soda crackers too, and when you feel up to it we can go get whatever you’d like for breakfast, yeah?”

“Spence,” but he only stays silent, looking at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky individually. “Can we get bagels? I want egg, ham and cheese in mine.”

Spencer rewards you with a dazzling smile and drops a kiss to your forehead. “We can get that and fresh ones for the week, angel.” He sets the tablet in your hand and opens the water, rubbing your hair out of your face as you swallow.

“What happened to beautiful?” Spencer laughs, reaching for the green tin of crackers.

“Here you go beautiful,” you preen, taking three crackers and nibbling slowly. “Proud of you, know it’s annoying to deal with.”

You nod, laying back down on your pillow when you finish the crackers.

“Think they’ll ever stop giving me nausea?” You ask Spencer, suddenly shifting positions so you can lay your head in his lap.

“They say it’s only supposed to last for the first three months, all statistics point to that being true. But bodies are all different, it’s not a one size fits all, maybe it won’t happen this month, maybe it’ll persist. Medicine is tricky when you add hormones into the mix.”

It isn’t as reassuring as you’d wanted to hear, but you know Spencer will help you through all the nausea and mood swings as long as he’s home.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #tw: nausea

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luveline · 13 days

Note

Babe congrats on quitting!!!

I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant heló bit asking for more

R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?

thank you!!

You can’t escape Remus’ sweet questions of concern, though he’s tactful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk.

“I’m fine.”

“You really don’t wanna come to dinner with me?”

It’s a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and he’s the only one of the three who isn’t exhausting; Remus’ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. “I’m too tired for the walking, thank you. I’m just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.”

Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesn’t tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. It’s heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but it’s cute too.

James rockets back to his desk. He’s always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork.

He notices your watching. “It’s just rice and chicken,” he says defensively.

“No, I’m not–” You shake your head. “Not about what you’re eating. Eat what you want, James.”

“Don’t I always?” he asks. “Not about what I’m eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?”

“It’s nothing.”

James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. “Hey, is something wrong?”

Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe you’re having a terrible day, and everything’s piling up, and you can’t be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe you’re dumb. “Guess I did look too long in the mirror,” you say.

“You’re upset?” he asks, startled.

You shake your head vehemently. Slow. “I’m just having a bad day.”

“What happened?”

You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face.

His hand curls into a loose fist. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,” —your face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you you’re giving him in needing reassurance— “look at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself I’d have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.” You frown at him. “You do make me unhappy, though.”

He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. “So you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.”

You frown at one another. “Why not?”

“Because you’re nothing worth being upset over?” James suggests. “You’re pretty. You know you’re pretty.” He points at you with his fork. “You do know?”

“No,” you mumble.

“I’m not telling you again,” he says, looking strangely as though he’d quite like to tell you again.

“I’m consistently below average.”

“Where? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where you’re the standard.”

Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. He’s outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. He’s smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does.

He ruins it rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Which I’ve come to expect!” he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. “Why would you think you’re not lovely? To look at, that is. You’re a huge pain otherwise.”

“That’s uncharacteristically mean, even for you.”

“I’m balancing it out. Want some asparagus?”

You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?

When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a ‘freak earthquake’. He’s back to normal.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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literaila · 3 months

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reassurance

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: megumi can't sleep

warnings: reader teases megumi, missing satoru

last part | next part

year one.

it’s your first night with the kids alone.

and you’re not nervous—no, not at all. having satoru around is basically like having a toddler who’s learned how to walk and gets into cupboards (just maybe slightly more annoying and less cute), so why would you be worried without him here?

honestly, it’s probably better this way. there’s no one to annoy megumi into hiding in his room all night. no one to use terrible pickup lines and swear that they’re working (they are).

but… you will admit that his presence is a reassurance of its own.

not just because of his power, or his strength, though that’s certainly something to consider. if someone was going to come and steal your children back, now might be a perfect opportunity. you know that they would lurk at your door waiting for a single moment that satoru was gone. and it would probably work, except for the fact that you’d sooner skin yourself with a dull knife from satoru’s kitchen than let that happen.

obviously, satoru wouldn’t need to go to such extremes. one blink from him and any threat would basically evaporate.

but it’s not even that.

satoru has always been that reassurance for you. despite any complaints you have about his attitude and the stupid things he says… it’s a welcome escape from the interminable worries in your mind.

you’d discovered this at sixteen when the two of you were alone on a mission for the first time.

if you were worried, if you got hurt, if you had a single doubt hidden beneath the warmth of your cursed energy or the bravado you’d foolishly flung around at that age—satoru was the complete opposite of all of that.

he would wave off your fears with a raised eyebrow. would laugh off your injuries before dragging you to the infirmary. he would take your doubts—with all of their hidden strength and knowledge—and purify them to a pulp.

you’ve never quite understood it.

where suguru would share your fears with you, assuring that you weren’t alone in the world of morality and fear, satoru would think of absolutely nothing at all.

and make fun of him all you want, but it was a nice break from logic and emotion. you’d admired him at sixteen for being so detached from the world and its curses.

(now, sometimes, it worries you. has he fallen so far from humanity that he can’t feel any of it? is he immune to the tortures of living in a world like yours?)

and you got used to being alone with those thoughts and doubts. you had to, even if you’d missed him desperately for a time that felt much longer than a year.

but you’ve also never had two children in your care, never had to worry about anything but yourself and the consequences of your very minute actions.

now every action feels like a tidal wave you could point in any direction.

if satoru was here, you think, at least you could blame the mistakes on him. comparatively, one of you is much better at being a responsible adult for tsumiki and megumi (hint: not the strongest sorcerer of the modern age).

and with satoru on some egregious mission—to who knows where, directed by only the people who hate him the most—you’re stuck in his house, with the kids, all alone.

it feels much too big in here without satoru’s ego to fill it.

maybe if you’d had a day to prepare you’d be better off. but satoru called you six hours ago with the news—and you know that he did it on purpose—telling you that you should just stay the night. you can even sleep in my bed, he’d drawled to you, just like you’ve always dreamed of.

you could’ve told him to go to hell, you know, if it weren’t for the sweetest little girl and the grumpiest little boy you’d ever met.

and, actually, it hasn’t gone too bad so far.

you made them dinner, which they both ate diligently like if they didn’t finish every bit on their plates you would kick them out—who knows if they liked it with the people-pleasing brats. and then they’d sat on the couch, commenting on some movie you’d never heard of.

and now, at ten o’clock at night, you’re cleaning up the kitchen worrying about the very monsters you’d trained for four years to deal with.

it's absolutely ridiculous, but there's no one here to tell you that.

“what’s wrong with your face?” a voice says, suddenly.

you turn to see megumi in the ridiculous pajamas satoru insisted on getting him—with some type of cat on them for god knows why—standing in the kitchen doorway with his signature frown.

“jeez,” you breathe out, leaning against the counter—pretending like your cursed energy hadn’t surged in your fists the moment you saw him there—and crossing your arms. “don’t scare me like that, kid. did satoru tell you to do that?”

you almost want to laugh at how his frown deepens at the mention of his name.

“sorry,” he murmurs, going to sit on a bar stool, just a bit too short to do it elegantly. “what’s wrong?”

“what? nothings wrong.”

“your face looks weird.”

oh, another thing about tonight. megumi is a lot more forthcoming when satoru isn’t around—you choose not to dwell on the prospects of that. you wonder what he’s like when you’re not around.

“i was just thinking," you say, blandly.

“you have to have a freaky look on your face to think?”

“okay, judgy," you sigh, leaning against the counter across from him, a brow quirked. "what are you doing up? it’s late.”

megumi shrugs. “can't sleep.”

he says it like he’s dealt with the same problems for many years like he’s not six years old and missing a tooth. it would be cute—how old and mature he seems—if it didn’t worry you.

satoru would coo at him, call him an old soul and ruffle his hair until megumi smacked him away.

but you wonder if he’s less an old soul and more of a hurt child.

“are you thinking about the scary movie satoru showed you?” you ask him, frowning. “i heard tsumiki had nightmares about it a couple days ago.”

“no. it wasn’t that scary. tsumiki just doesn’t like monsters.”

“and you do?”

he shrugs again.

you tap your fingers against the countertop. “have you been up this whole time?”

he nods. his movements are short and exact. “why are you still awake?”

“i was cleaning up.”

“gojo usually doesn’t do that until morning."

“what did we discuss at dinner?” you ask, rhetorically, shaking your head. “don’t do anything satoru does.”

megumi nods again, very seriously.

“do you need something? warm milk? my mom used to give me that when i couldn’t sleep.”

the boy frowns. “gross.”

“don’t knock it till you try it,” you tell him, smiling a little. “you were a baby once too.”

he shakes his head and you laugh. you should be scolding him and telling him to go back to sleep, but it's rare when you get a moment alone with the little boy. you're almost savoring it.

“did you try counting sheep?” you ask, teasing him. it's very easy when he looks almost... comfortable.

he rolls his eyes, messing with a wrapper satoru left lying around, but you can tell that he's trying not to smile too. after three months with him, it's almost easy to see the subtle shift in his features.

“when’s gojo going to be back?” he asks, after a moment, looking up at you with dark blue eyes. his voice is quieter, still like a portrait.

you pause, considering. it's a surprising change of subject. honestly, you hadn't even thought that megumi had noticed he was gone. “um… i’m not sure. it could be tomorrow, it could be a couple days from now. it depends on how far he had to go for work.”

“he’s killing curses right?”

the words almost shock you into taking a step back, but you refrain.

you make a mental note to smack satoru the next time you see him.

your mouth opens. then you close it. “what does satoru tell you when i’m not here?”

he scratches his head. “just that we’re privileged and that i can see things other people can’t.”

you narrow your eyes at him.

“and that he’s the best.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, that sounds like him.”

“is he?”

“hmm?”

“the best?”

you watch his eyes, suddenly wide, weirdly curious. “i guess,” you answer, a little teasing, a little serious. you don't really want to explain this to megumi. you shouldn't have to. “he’d be better if he didn’t brag about it all of the time.”

“so he kills those things a lot?”

“what do you mean?”

“it’s normal for him?” he clarifies, leaning his small arms on the counter to observe you closely.

if you weren't so used to this, you might feel a bit uncomfortable.

“um, yes." you answer, not sure how far to go. "it’s pretty standard for sorcerers.”

“like me, right?”

“yes.”

he nods, his brows still furrowed, thinking harder than a six-year-old should. in your personal opinion, he shouldn't have to worry about anything.

but satoru clearly doesn't share that sentiment.

it's quiet for a moment while megumi thinks about your words. he doesn't seem to be wary of his own powers, or the fact that he's been shoved into this world. but, still, this is a weird topic for him.

it makes you wish again that satoru was here, just so you don't have to explain everything alone. he's much more clear than you are.

after the silence draws on, megumi looks down at the counter with skeptical eyes, your brows raise in surprise. “are you--" you almost smile. "are you worried about him?”

megumi’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “what?” he snaps, voice harsher than you've heard it directed at you. “no.”

your lip twitches.

“it’s nice without him,” the boy continues. “he always tries to mess up my hair.”

because this is the worst thing that satoru has done to the boy, obviously.

you watch him as he looks away again, a little embarrassed. he shakes his head so his hair hides his face.

“oh, yeah," you respond, a little sarcastic. "why would you miss him?”

why would anybody?

“right.” he pauses. from this close, you can see a pattern of freckles on his pale skin. he looks up again. “are you worried?”

you almost smile. “no, he’s too annoying to get hurt.”

megumi nods immediately.

you’re eating breakfast with the kids when he appears at the table, his grin wide, his hair a bit wild.

satoru is sitting with the three of you before you can blink, his arms open wide, his blindfold a bit crooked.

you gasp and both children flinch away at his sudden appearance.

he is quite scary.

“hey, family,” he says to all of you, smoothly. “what’d i miss?”

megumi stands up from the table, taking a step away from the man, and you smack his head.

tsumiki just giggles.

next part

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thatgirlonstage · 5 months

Text

Okay I’m too tired to keep listening to Dark Heir but I’ve got a whole bus ride home so I’m going to spin Black Butler thoughts at you all.

(Idk how coherent this is, I’m sorry if it’s rambly my brain is SO dead but it wants to Talk so)

I’m thinking about… the gradual build of Sebastian’s fear that he could actually lose Ciel, as we go:

The asthma attack in Circus Arc: not ultimately serious, but a danger to Ciel’s wellbeing Sebastian had not been aware of and cannot easily fix

The fight on the Campania, where Sebastian is very seriously injured himself, to the point where he’s in danger of losing Ciel to Undertaker because he can’t physically stop him from being taken,

Which leads into THIS fucking moment in school arc:

which is entirely fueled by Sebastian’s fear that Undertaker will snatch Ciel out from under him, AGAIN, because he did it before

AND THEN GREEN WITCH ARC HAPPENS, where Sebastian gets within literal minutes of losing Ciel to the gas, and WOULD HAVE if Sieglinde hadn’t been there or hadn’t been willing to help them

And still in Green Witch Arc, even AFTER Ciel has physically survived, Sebastian nearly loses him anyway because he backslides so dramatically into a PTSD episode that it nearly voids their contract

All of which is why by the time you get to the Blue Cult Arc, Sebastian is so genuinely afraid he might not be able to protect Ciel that the scent of blood from a single needle prick makes him do. This.

And now, with bizarre dolls getting ever more advanced and better at hiding from Sebastian’s senses and the whole police force mobilized against them, I’m very ready for Sebastian in Brighton to be doing everything short of wrapping Ciel in 19th century bubble wrap. I’ll frankly be shocked if he lets Ciel out of his sight for more than five minutes.

But the thing is. The thing is. Narratively, there isn’t much further you can ratchet up the stakes for Sebastian (at least until you get to the moment of truth with the contract and eating his soul, which is a different conversation). Ciel being put in danger or hurt again isn’t going to do all that much to alter their relationship at this point. Sebastian is already about as whipped as the poor guy can get.

What would be a change, is Ciel nearly losing Sebastian.

There’s been—for obvious reasons—much less risk and fear on that front. There has been some build for it:

Red Butler Arc, encountering reapers, Ciel sees Sebastian fight an enemy who can actually hold their own against him for the first time (and while I don’t think this is confirmed, I suspect Grell’s chainsaw eating his shoulder is the first time Ciel sees him get injured for real (as opposed to allowing himself to get shot and playing dead just for the sake of being a dramatic bitch))

Curry Arc, Agni successfully fights Sebastian to a tie (which is why I’m VERY interested to see if Soma turns back up in the Brighton arc as well, feat. angry Kali powers)

[The murder arc is a fake out, because Ciel knows he’s fine the whole time]

On the Campania, Ciel sees him get very badly injured. This is the one and only time Ciel has real cause to fear for Sebastian’s safety, as such.

And since then, while Sebastian isn’t quite untouchable, he hasn’t really suffered any serious injury or physical danger to himself. There have been defeats or fights that didn’t end perfectly for him—such as the school arc fight—but Sebastian hasn’t been existentially threatened. Ciel, I think, still has pretty high confidence that worst case scenario, Sebastian can always just pick him up and make a run for it (indeed, part of the reason things got so bad on the Campania was because they were trapped on a boat). And even if Sebastian couldn’t save him, Ciel—to the extent it’s even occurred to him—doesn’t have a lot of reason to think he couldn’t save himself.

This is now the second time Ciel has lost everything—his title, his name, his home, his safety, his dignity and respect. The first time was worse, obviously, but he’s got to be feeling the similarities.

The first time, Sebastian pulled him out of his despair by offering him the power to escape.

Now, the second time, he at least still has Sebastian by his side. A Sebastian who is going to be laser-focused on protecting Ciel from all possible threats.

But what happens if Ciel thinks he might lose Sebastian too?

#black butler #sebaciel #black butler meta #god I’m so ready for Brighton to be UNHINGED

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verm1c1de · 7 months

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Zims entire personality is completely fabricated

Let me explain.

Zim, as we know him, is just a mask made up by.. well, Zim.

Zim doesn’t exist.

Because Zim, at his most genuine, loves.

And Zim is not supposed to love.

It’s been thrown around throughout the entire course of the series that Zim is, in fact, a very intelligent individual. Moreso than irkens, renowned technology-thieves, are known to be. It’s for this fact, that it would make sense, that Zim would not be completely ignorant of how the rest of Irken society views him.

The defect, the worst irken to ever exist, et cetera.

There’s no way to be that obtuse about your own infamy, and if there is, there’s enough hints and clues in the series to allow viewers to come to the conclusion that Zim isn’t unaware of it all.

And no, this is not a “Zim is a genius and knows absolutely everything” post. He’s definitely gullible. He absolutely has the worst priorities, he doesn’t know when to quit, too stubborn and set in his own beliefs, but he does Know a lot more than he lets on.

Multiple instances of Tallest Purple nearly revealing the truth about Zim’s mission or being too careless with his words are brushed away, either spoken over by Red or ignored completely by Zim, as if he didn’t hear it at all. Similarly, Sizz-Lorr exists as tangible evidence of everything wrong with Zim’s falsified identity as an invader. He shows up for one episode and that episode introduces some of the most important building on Zim’s coding and the consequences derived from his destructive actions on Irk. And his response to this, is to flat out deny it. Because with Purple, he has the expectation to not be aware. With Sizz-Lorr, everything he’s done is laid out in front of him, forcing him to acknowledge it. He won’t.

Zim, at his most genuine, is paranoid.

Paranoid enough to fabricate an entire personality from nothing after having the entirety of Irken knowledge downloaded into his PAK, only minutes after having been freed from his tube.

Zim is a bootlicker. Zim couldn’t care less about the Tallest. Zim seeks absolution from the Tallest because he knows that he was Made Wrong and that the things he’s done are unforgivable, but he can’t help himself. Zim only goes out of his way to gain their attention because he knows that’s what the average irken desires. All of these are true.

Zim is only drawn to invading in the most superficial way possible for an irken. He enjoys the idea of invading, not because it is personally "appealing" to him in any sense of the word, but because he knows that it is for others. It's an esteemed title. An invader gets to have respect. An invader gets to be addressed directly by the Tallest.

Being an invader is the best thing. Not for him, but for his act.

He needs the act. The act will save him from his imperialistic society. The act is the worst thing to ever happen to him.

Zim is nothing without it. He’s nothing with it.

He hates the act.

(“Hey, you’re a worse flier than I am!”)

And it’s very, very likely that he hates himself because of it. Much more than anyone else could ever hate him, because their hate for him is as superficial as his allegiance to the Empire is.

Zim does not fit in on Irk because Irk doesn’t need a Zim. Irk doesn’t need an irken soldier whose sole identity is to destroy.

Which is why Zim fits in so much better on Earth as its villain. On Earth, he gets to be a part of the story, not a fool that has to force himself on stage to even have some semblance of a spotlight.

Zim was already firmly set into his role before arriving to Earth; but coming there, and meeting Dib, further instills Zim with the drive to keep it up. Dib exists to be a hero, after all! And heroes need their villains. Zim fits into that role perfectly. And of course Zim, being nothing BUT a role, is drawn to it. He'll feed into Dib's alien obsession because Dib's alien obsession fits into Zim's "character". The big bad guy that needs to be fought against.

Which makes sense.

If he's the big bad that everyone hates, he doesn't have to worry about wondering if anyone loves him, because he knows they don't.

His first words were “I love you.”

The Zim we know does not love.

The Zim we know is nothing but an elaborate, one-irken act, stuck playing the same role in the same show for as long as he draws it out for.

One which would collapse if anything ever brought attention to it.

this post would not have been made without the help of @short-and-ugly and @animatorfun. seriously. like they wrote it. they were my editors.

this is NOT a headcanon post, im for realsies. this is metatextual analysis. i genuinely believe this is what zims character is supposed to be ((even if not necessarily intentionally))

#iz #invader zim #zim #iz analysis #long post #very long post #vermi.txt #Zim Larp Theory #named soafter our google doc about it

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fuckyeahisawthat · 9 months

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If you see Good Omens s2 as a bridge between the end of s1 and a s3 plot that, it seems, will revolve around [spoilers below]

Aziraphale and the second coming (in a parallel to s1 being about Crowley and the Antichrist) then a lot of things make sense, and actually I think this is one of the only routes they could have taken that would seem remotely plausible.

Because how the fuck do you get Aziraphale back in Heaven after the events of s1? Both you (a writer who wrote s1 as a self-contained adaptation of an existing work, having no idea if there would be future seasons) and you (Heaven within the world of the story).

In the book verse, I could see this playing out as a sort of “you thought you were happily retired and then they pulled you back in for one last job” situation, and I think that could have worked. Because book Heaven and Hell seem to end the story basically agreeing to forget Aziraphale and Crowley’s numbers out of sheer embarrassment, and that works in the world of the book because Heaven, in particular, seems to forget Aziraphale exists at least 80% of the time anyway. Book Heaven is mostly notable for its absence. We recognize their hypocrisy in claiming to be the good guys while mostly doing the exact same shit as Hell with better PR, but in the book Hell seems like the side that’s more dangerous and actively intrusive in Crowley’s life.

But TV Heaven and Hell are terrifyingly, oppressively present in Aziraphale and Crowley’s lives, and both of them very recently (in immortal being terms) tried to execute their respective agents for treason, and still don’t understand why they failed. This raises the stakes and the threat to their relationship enormously, which works great in a television drama where their relationship is much more of a focus than it is in the book. But it also makes it much more difficult to imagine either of them going back to their respective sides after the events of s1. They made that choice already.

So what do you (writer now trying to solve this problem for s2 and potentially s3) and you (Heaven, trying to come up with a way that Aziraphale would walk back into his former prison willingly) do?

You offer Aziraphale the one thing he can’t refuse, the thing he still doesn’t have, even now after Armageddidn’t and surviving the trials and 4 (?) years of living more or less openly with Crowley around. You offer him safety. Safety for himself and Crowley, together.

We know it’s a trap. We know what Heaven is offering is not safety, but control. But Aziraphale hasn’t gotten there yet. We understand why Crowley sees it as a rejection and an insult. But to Aziraphale it’s an offer better than he ever thought was possible to receive.

He thought, all of s1, that he would have to choose between following Heaven’s orders and saving the world and his relationship with Crowley. And he made his choice. Now someone is telling him he can have both? Love and acceptance from Heaven for him and Crowley, and the power to make things better? And when he realizes Crowley won’t come with him…well, maybe at least from Heaven he will still be able to protect him, even if he’s not by his side.

And you know what? I bet, in the short term, this is going to only make him double down on his “it was just a few bad angels” justification for the way Heaven behaved. Because this offer is coming from the literal voice of God. Maybe it even reinforces the idea that God didn’t want Armageddon to happen at all, that Aziraphale and Crowley and Adam and the Them actually were doing her will by stopping it. Because now Aziraphale is being invited back in, with more authority than he ever had before. And they invited Crowley (who he always believed was Good) back in too.

He doesn’t get it yet, that Crowley is right. That you can’t reform Heaven from the inside, because it is not and never was the good side. Because there is no good side.

Aziraphale hasn’t figured that out yet. But he will.

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens s2 spoilers #aziraphale #heaven

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digital-domain · 1 month

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slip

Feitan x Reader drabble // word count 1.5k

In which you dream about someone you shouldn’t, and talk in your sleep.

Tags/Warnings: yandere, kidnapped reader, mention of blood and gore (past and imagined), knives, implied noncon, implied threat of death (to reader), implied murder (not reader), reader is gonna be fucked up over this forever

A/N: first time writing this man, not sure how I feel about it but it’s either post or stare at it forever

As always - 18+, read the tags, if you don’t like the tags then don’t go below the cut. Thank you and enjoy.

There is a knife against your throat, and you barely know how it got there, much less why. You didn’t do anything. Didn’t run, didn’t try to shove your tormentor away, didn’t tell him that you wished he was dead, or worse. You wouldn’t have had the time to do these things, even if you wanted to. You hadn't been awake for a second before his hand stirred from where it had lain on your waist. And now - the blade twitches, slightly. It doesn’t press quite hard enough to make you bleed, but certainly enough to make you picture what would happen if it did. If it kept going, long past the point where red rivulets stained the threadbare sheets beneath you.

A small noise escapes your mouth. You get nothing in response. It takes time for Feitan to speak, when there’s something on his mind.

It’s taking too long, even for him.

Last night, you thought you were safe. He kissed you, after meticulously washing a stranger’s blood out from beneath his nails. He watched you fall asleep, kept a hand on you until exhaustion finally forced you to nod off in the early hours of the morning. The strange affection he gives you is worse than any cruelty you could imagine, but not nearly as bad as the thought that somehow, you’ve managed to lose it. There are no words in your mind, now, only scattered images of what might happen, what you might become, the barely-recognizable thing strewn out across the floor -

“What were you dreaming about?” Feitan’s voice is dull and quiet, as always. Like he’s asking you this over breakfast, and not on what could be your deathbed.

You don’t remember, and you don’t answer. There is no air left for you to speak.

“What were you dreaming about?” he repeats. It’s almost the same voice, but there’s a hint of urgency, now. The barest hint - but you’ve grown used to interpreting the faint indications he gives you. “Talk.”

“I don’t”- You gasp, but seem to take in nothing. “-don’t remember”-

“You were talking when you were sleeping.”

Statements like these are dangerous. He expects you to understand what he means, always. He does not like to elaborate.

“I…” You screw your eyes shut, try to forget where you are just enough to remember where you were. “It was night. In the dream. And I was…” Oh. No. You can’t say that part out loud. Never, ever, ever. When you open your eyes, your vision is blurry. They close once more, of their own accord. “I was sitting with someone. Talking.” Someone. Someone has no face, no name - you pray that he’ll let you leave it at that. That he won’t ask for more.

“You said…” His face is close to the back of your neck, and yet, you cannot feel his breath on your skin. “When you were sleeping, you said I love you.”

Your stomach threatens to infringe upon your throat. You curse your sleeping mind for giving you something beautiful to dream of, and for letting it slip out of your mouth. Beautiful things do not survive here, and your mouth is always better kept shut.

“Who?”

You’d think, in your present situation, that you wouldn’t have enough room in your head to feel terrified for anyone else. But you do. Terrified enough to try something stupid.

You’re sure Feitan can feel the tension in your body, the instinctual way it readies itself for a fight (you would lose instantly) or an attempt at escape (you wouldn’t make it an inch). “It wasn’t about”- you choke on your own breath, try again. “It wasn’t about anyone real. Just a dream-person.”

“Bad liar,” he accuses. You do not protest. It was pointless to try.

And yet, you try again. You know that your answer matters. Enough for you to force more lies across the blade that still presses against your skin. “Someone I used to date. A long time ago.” Really, it was only a few weeks before Feitan….found you that things ended. But time is subjective - it certainly feels like a long time has passed since then.

“Oh.” If he suspects that you’re lying again, he doesn’t say it. But he does tend to leave a lot of things unsaid.

“He”- You suck in a breath as the knife twitches again. The movement is not an accident. It’s never an accident - his hands are unnaturally steady, when he wants them to be. “He ended things. I don’t think he thinks about me anymore.” This needs to be true. He needs to believe that it’s true, or-

“But you still think about him.”

Your stomach churns. “It was just a dream.” Technically not a lie, either. You’d have to say no for it to be a lie.

Feitan pauses for a moment. You’d have expected him to be furious, to take this out on you in some unimaginably awful way. Instead you hear a single sigh, feel it soft against your skin. “He let you go.” He sounds almost confused, his muted voice drawn out just enough to make his resentment clear. The knife turns slightly, and this time, you’re not sure if it was on purpose. “He must be stupid.”

You bite down on the inside of your lip, sharp and hard enough to tear a bit of the lining away. It’s awful when he says these things. Words that could be sweet, if you removed everything around them.

“I can’t control what I dream about,” you whisper, almost too quiet to be heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” He withdraws the blade, swings his feet off the bed - the floor, decrepit as it is, should creak when he stands, but it never does. “You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

You know better than to be relieved, so you turn over, to your other side, and fix your gaze on the floor. Watch him carefully, indirectly. You listen, your breath almost as silent as his, as he picks up his jacket from the end of your bed, puts it on.

And he smiles. His face is covered, but you see it in his eyes. “I can figure out the rest.”

The rest.

Your heart hammers, but your blood stands still. Frozen in your veins. You know why he’s put on his jacket. Why he’s leaving. Where he’s going.

The knife still dangling from Feitan’s hand catches a shard of your reflection, a smudged picture of a terrified eye that disappears before you can look any closer.

The rest. Name, face, address - all too easy. There are clues in your confiscated possessions, in the place where you used to live.

It’s as if the knife is still held to your throat. No. It’s as if your skin has already broken beneath it. You do not think in words. You think in gory pictures, infinitely clearer than the haze you see before forcing your eyes shut. Your blood, mixing with what you’re sure will be on that blade by day’s end. Skin-gushing-red-bones-out-something being buried, dirty hands returning to you, staining your face, your clothes, the things underneath, silent breath coming alive, painfully soft in your ear -

You open your eyes. You want to scream at him to stop, to stay. But your mouth stays shut.

“I won’t draw it out.” For a moment, he looks down, and you swear you see his face color. Like he’s said something overly sweet, and can barely stand it. “I promise.”

It’s enough to make it real. Enough to unseal your lips. “Don’t…” You should be yelling. But it’s all you can do, finding enough strength to make a near-silent, desperate appeal. “Please. You don’t have to. I’m not going to - to run. To him or anyone else. I’m not gonna do anything. I don’t - it was just a dream…”

“Stop.” His smile drops, eyes narrow. Voice even quieter than usual, deathly calm.

You go silent. Perfectly still.

“If you keep trying to save him, I’ll break my word. I already want to.”

You forget how to breathe.

This can’t be a choice you have to make. This can’t be in your hands. There are words in your head, finally, and you can’t say them.

You have to say them.

“I’m sorry.”

"Okay." He stares at you for far too long, unblinking. For seconds, or maybe hours, or maybe days - they’re all the same, to you, now. “It’s okay.”

No. He is unforgivably wrong. Nothing will ever be okay again. You’re in some other world, in your mind, and it’s going to take more than you have to yank you out of it.

You can barely see him in front of you. His voice reverberates strangely in your head. But when he moves, it’s like your senses pull themselves together. You realize that your eyes are wet, that a tear is rolling down the bridge of your nose, that you can breathe after all, but only in ragged gasps…

“You look…nice…when you cry.” He drops his gaze once more, tugs up on the cloth that covers his face. His smile is back, creasing the corners of his eyes, and it is the ugliest thing you have ever seen. “Wonder if he thought that, too.”

#feitan x reader #yandere feitan #tw blood #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw violent imagery #tw implied noncon #tw implied murder

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oiveyzmir · 9 months

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Living with Eddie is… well, it’s an experience.

It’s not a bad thing, not in the slightest. There’s nothing Steve loves more than the fact he gets to fall asleep next to the love of his life, wake up to his soft little snores, and go about their lives together. There’s a soft kind of domesticity to it Steve wouldn’t give for the world.

He loves their routine so much he’s even willing to move past the little things Eddie does that make him lose his mind, like the way he never washes the sink properly after doing the dishes or how he constantly leaves the cabinet doors open. He can even move past how Eddie will come home from a late night shift at the bar when it’s raining and forget to take his shoes off, leaving a muddy trail of footsteps anywhere he goes. Hell, Steve’s even willing to excuse Eddie’s phases.

Wayne had warned him about those when they first moved in together three years ago. “It’s just that he gets easily excited about things,” he reasoned then. “Which doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

Steve didn’t get what it meant then.

He surely gets what it means now.

He found something- a bout of inspiration- and hyperfixated on it until moving on to the next. There was this one time Eddie got really into gardening and bought 11 different herb seedlings, only for them to wilt and die three weeks later when he got into water coloring, then moved on to filmography, then to operas.

He had that month once where he’d developed a sudden interest in learning to play the violin (It’s for a song, Stevie, did you ever listen to Skyclad?), so he stayed up until 5 AM to play something that resembled music (but was closer to being nothing but) with the instrument he burrowed from Robin’s then girlfriend. That month was so close to being a breaking point for Steve, but he loves Eddie too much to do anything about it. He honestly believes that if he managed to live through Eddie’s Violin Month he can live through anything.

He lived through Eddie’s sewing phase, his novel-writing phase and his (honest-to-god awful) baking phase, and survived to tell the tale.

Nothing had prepared him for Eddie’s current phase, though.

It seemed harmless at first. It was even kind of adorable, really; the way Eddie’s eyes glinted with excitement when he sat Steve down to watch him do a cute little card trick, the way he laughed triumphantly when it was, in fact, Steve’s card.

It got less cute when Eddie got himself cuffed to their bedpost for hours in the most unsexy way Steve could imagine, refused Steve’s offer to let him out and making him feed him since his hands were, well, preoccupied.

It also wasn’t cute when Eddie stabbed himself with a pencil in attempt to make it disappear.

But it’s plain rude now, when Steve’s trying to get a little nap after a terrible day at the school where he’s started teaching. Eddie knows he’s sleeping, Steve made sure to call him on his way home and let him know he had a bad day and that he’ll be spending as much of it as he can sleeping it off. He trusted Eddie enough to keep it down that he didn’t bother to close their bedroom door properly, and he had also kinda hoped Eddie would see it as the invitation it was for him to cuddle up to Steve and make his awful day just a bit better.

Yet here Eddie is, an hour or so after he got back home, seemingly running into every single piece of furniture they own.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles, and Steve has to give him credit for at least trying to be quiet. “Come back here.”

Steve sleepily opens one eye at that. There shouldn’t be anyone out there but Eddie, right? He listens intently to hear someone else speaking, but he can’t hear anything but the quiet thump of someone hitting their kitchen table and Eddie’s frustrated grunting.

“Please, babydoll. Come back to me.”

And now Steve’s interest is really piqued.

Steve opens his other eye and sits up. He debates heading out there and seeing whatever happens out there himself, but decides to let it all play out just a little bit longer. It’s not like he believes Eddie is capable of cheating on him; he knows Eddie loves him too much to make him go through something like that, and he also isn’t dumb enough to do so when he knows Steve is sleeping in the other room.

He listens as Eddie makes some quiet tsk noises with the tip of his tongue. “C’mon, princess,” he whispers, not loud enough to wake Steve up, but definitely loud enough that Steve hears now that he’s really listening. “No, no, don’t go there, Steve’s sleeping, fuck.”

Steve lies back down quickly when he hears the door creak a bit wider to pretend being asleep, covering himself up to his eyes with their blanket. He can hear something’s small feet tapping on their bedroom tiles before hearing Eddie’s steps, and is he tiptoeing?

Even when he’s almost panicked about whatever it is Eddie had brought home, Steve can’t help but have a fond smile spread across his face. There is love in this, so immense and great, and Steve can be nothing but grateful and madly in love as well.

The tiny feet keep running around and Steve can vaguely imagine what it is- a kitten, or maybe a puppy, but relatively tiny ones at that. The tapping sound comes to a short stop then starts off again.

Eddie sighs, relieved, and it sounds like he crouches down. “Come on, come on,” he whispers. “There you go, good girl.”

The sound of tapping feet stops and Eddie gives the thing a kiss. “Don’t ever make me go through this again, babylove.” He mutters accusingly. “How can I trust you in battle if you pull this kind of shit on me?”

Eddie turns to go. Steve can imagine the kitten cuddling itself in Eddie’s arms. Knowing Eddie, the kitten’s probably black, maybe missing an eye or an ear, whichever makes it harder to adopt for regular people. Eddie’s not a regular person, though. The mental image he created is so endearing to him that he can’t help but loudly yawn. “Baby?” He says, trying to make his voice sound as sleepy as he can, even though he’s been wide awake for a while now. Eddie stops and turns around.

The room is dark, but even in the darkness Steve can see that whatever it is Eddie’s holding is both white and obviously not a cat.

“Hey, Stevie, did I wake you up?” He whispers, his tone apologetic, like a kid found out with his hand in the near-empty cookie jar.

“What’s that?” Steve asks back instead of answering.

Steve turns his bedside light on, and after the initial shock of light momentarily blinding him he can clearly see it; a white bunny being cradled in Eddie’s arms.

“She’s my assistant,” Eddie explains, as if it explains anything, “her name is Jessica. Get it? Jessica Rabbit?”

“Your assistant.”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly.

“For the…”

“Magic tricks?”

“Oh.”

“I’ll take care of her, though,” Eddie sits down on the edge of the bed, Jessica sitting in his lap, “take her out on walks and feed her and everything. You wouldn’t even notice she’s here.”

Steve sits up and motions for Eddie to hand him the bunny, which he dutifully does. Her fur is so soft, probably the softest thing Steve had ever felt. “That’s not how you take care of a bunny,” Steve says as he rubs his hands gently through her fur, “she isn’t a dog.”

“How do you take care of a bunny then? ‘Cause I bought, like, a bunch of carrots.”

Steve laughs. “Oh god, I love you.”

“That means we’re keeping her, right?” Eddie takes his shoes off- Steve pointedly does not think about how their living room might look like- and cuddles up in bed next to Steve. He looks up at him so hopefully Steve is flooded with warmth and love, so flooded he can’t even remember what annoyed him so much at work today.

Steve kisses his forehead, then his nose, then softly his lips. “Sure. One condition, though.”

“What is it?”

“Can you teach me the pulling her out of a hat trick?”

Eddie grins wide. “Of-fucking-course.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #the kind of shit I write to avoid my bb fic #speaking of thank you bb author chat for indulging my bullshit #tal writes

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pandamoniumvibes-27 · 24 days

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The Vees Overstim Headcannons (SFW)

The Vees (separate) x Gender Neutral reader

Description: how the Vees are when they are overstimulated and how they help reader when they’re overstimulated.

Warnings: Toxic Valentino/Bad partner Valentino

Vox

Out of all the Vees Vox is around the middle ground when he is overstimulated

Vox spends weeks at a time in his office refusing to sleep or eat until he finishes his work

Unfortunately, work doesn’t stop when you own a company like VoxTech

It’s a common occurrence for VoxTech employees to be killed by Vox during his week long shifts

Its only after you convince him less work will be done if there is a blackout that he goes to the penthouse

Vox will usually sleep off the stress most days but there is times when he is too worked up that comfort shows work better

This man will make sure to buy the companies that makes these shows so they keep his favorite comfort shows in production

Vox loves watching True Crime while having take out Chinese food

Something only you have noticed is all the True Crime references he puts in his tv shows

If available he will try to get you and the other Vees to join him randomly coming in with random facts and theories on who is the murder

He is usually correct

When he is relaxed enough he will go to sleep although he will sheepishly ask you to come with him

He doesn’t like to admit it but quality time is his primary love language

Now if your overstimulated

Vox probably won’t notice at first but give him an hour and he will get the hint

If you’re doing work he immediately takes you away from it and brings you to his office

He gives you tea and if you don’t like tea then your favorite warm drink while sitting you down in a chair

Vox stops doing what ever what he was doing and tries having a conversation with you about anything

Vox usually tries to talk about your favorite things

Eventually Vox tells you to go up to the penthouse and put on your favorite show

He joins you after finishing his work early for the day

Man can’t cook well so he orders your favorite food (take out or from a restaurant) and brings it up to the penthouse with him

He purposely dims the lights and puts his creen on night mode in hopes the warmer lights will relax you

He’s right and you catch him smiling at you as your watching the tv

“You’re supposed to be watching the tv not staring at me like a pervert!”

“Seeing you smile is better than any tv show.”

“Better than Pride Ring 666?”

“1,000 times better than Pride Ring 666”

Valentino

Valentino is by far the least bad of the Vees when he gets overstimulated

That or ever has just gotten used to him throwing temper tantrums every 5 seconds

The main problem with Valentino is that he has turned his stress reliever into work

Valentino doesn’t realize that what he needs isn’t more sex or drugs but just needs to relax

This often doesn’t happen

Many of his employees get hurt along with employees from Vox and Velvette’s department

Eventually they send you to handle him

After a lot of fight and tears you finally convince him to take a break

Although he makes it seem like it is his idea and forces you to join him even if your working

Valentino marches to the penthouse just to put random tv show on

It doesn’t matter which one it is it can even be static all that matters is the fact it’s light

It’s a weird moth thing

The light is just so calming to him he stares at it for hours with wide eyes

If your lucky you can slip away and do some work just be back before he realizes

After he takes a nap holding you while you try to some work done on your phone

Valentino isn’t much better when your overstimulated

He doesn’t even notice unless you straight up tell him

Even then he isn’t stopping his work to help you

He tells you to take some drugs and when you refuse he straight up tells you to leave him alone

After his shift if your still overstimulated he will bring you to the couch and put his wings over you as you cuddle

If you fall asleep he will get up and go about his business but if he is feeling very nice he will make your favorite food wake you up and give it to you

If you beg real nicely he will go to bed with you

Don’t expect anymore from him he already did

“Amorcito I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I just want sympathy! Comfort! Just a hug! But NO! I GET FUCKING DRUGS!”

“Amor~ you’re acting crazy! I already did sooo much for you don’t be selfish~”

Velvette

It doesn’t help that Velvette’s work is in the thing she holds 24/7

For Velvette her work is always changing thousand of post a second all changing the trends and it her job to make sure the Vees are on top of it

Even during her lunch break she is working posting photos of her lunch taking selfies and then doom scrolling till break is over

She never ate her lunch and she only feels more overworked

Don’t even ask her about her day when she gets back to the penthouse it will only make her feel worse

Velvette locks herself in her room to film more content fix the algorithm and read the comments on her latest post

Some are less than nice and make her feel like an object rather than a person

You can try to help Velvette: give her chocolates invite her on dates maybe try to actually drag her away from her work but it will only make things worse

Velvette does what she wants and to her all your actions just read as you trying to stop her from succeeding

Your best chance at getting Velvette to take a break is sitting her down and explaining to her your observation

And she thought she was the observant one

You two come to an agreement where you take her phone for the day and you spend the day doing her favorite things

You go to her favorite restaurant her favorite stores and play her favorite video games

You take pictures for her trying your hardest to male them the best photos you have ever taken

She might hire you to be a photographer one day

Now if your overstimulated your in luck! She is very observant!

She won’t help you right away she has important work to do

She tells you to take a nap in her room and she’ll come when she is done with her work

When you wake up you don’t see her but you do see a big basket social media worthy

Inside has your favorite candy, drink, along with extra blankets and candles and slippers

If you have really specific things you like for example Pokémon or maybe really enjoy crosswords or a book series expect that in the basket too

On the side there is your favorite take out food and your favorite baked treats that you know Velvette made just for you

You see a note on the basket explaining she had to go finish a project and will be back in an hour

Velvette might not tell you how much she cares but she definitely tries to show it

Hi Darlin!

I had to go finish the outfits for my latest show! This one really is gonna be my best! I’m really gonna show all those cunts who’s on top! Anyway stay clear of Valentino’s floor if you decide to leave the penthouse fucking bastard is tearing the walls down over one of his whores. Anyways I’ll be back around 8! I have brand new couple pajama set we got to try on!

Kisses!

Velvette

#hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #velvette x reader #vox x reader #valentino x reader

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stuffeddeer · 2 months

Note

hii hru? i have a fic request umm i have this idea thats been sitting in my head for TOO LONG... i need to get it out how would bsd men (your choice) react to a reader who is too nice of a person, basically an ANGEL but seeks love from people who treats them like shit.,,.,. n theyre always like "nono theyre a great friend" (i need to stop doing this though it happens too many times)

ok bye!! have a lovely day!!!!!!

if someone treats me wrongly i will treat them wrongER. i do not start shit but i will End It. i included Dazai, Ranpo, Nikolai, Atsushi and Chuuya :) ive never written for Chuuya and Atsushi but i just kept typing so umm mb!! don’t read the last two unless ur crazy

Dazai would be so frustrated internally. He had been one of those people you give such patience to, and he knows everyone else is only preying that kind nature. He’d subtly try and point out that what they’re doing is bad, but he has always preferred a less direct approach. Threatening. Okay, yes yes, Dazai has turned over a new leaf, but as long as he doesn’t hurt or kill it’s fine, right? Are mild and “empty” threats really that bad? He’d chase away those people easily, helping you to meet others like his coworkers at the Agency or reminding you of the good friends you have and how you should spend more time with them. If you’re the type to tolerate rudeness from others but Not tolerate it when people are rude to your friends, Dazai would lie and claim that these assholes wronged him in some devastating way so you never forgive them.

Ranpo would (metaphorically) hit you upside the head. What do you think you’re doing, letting anyone treat you as less than you are? Not because he cares for you (so he claims), but because you’re associated with him! By allowing these, for lack of a better word, losers to treat you so awfully, you’re taking down his image with you! How would people react if they knew that the greatest detective allowed his friend (..?) to be treated so horribly? That he of all people couldn’t knock some sense into you? He’d huff, reminding you that you’d only need him and the Agency anyway, so why waste your time with such imbeciles 🙄

Nikolai is the one who treats you like shit. He hadn’t originally meant to — not any more than usual, that is — but watching you defend horrible actions from people that didn’t matter made him wonder if you’d do the same for those that do (being him, of course). He’d change at the drop of a hat, doting on you and cherishing you to kicking you out and ghosting you for weeks. But when he messaged you once again, you’d find yourself back on a bus approaching his apartment. Because of course you are, how could you leave Nikolai when he’s been so kind to you? He said he was busy, and what reason did you have not to believe him?

Atsushi would see himself in you but it’d just be a cycle. You’d see others treating him poorly and get angry, and he’d see people doing that with you, but you both would defend your “friends” up and down until exhaustion kept you from continuing. Atsushi is used to being used, so it’s fine, and seemingly so are you, so you’re fine, and it just repeats forever. But, if Atsushi’s options are to hang out with you or those jerks, then you’ll just have to spend more time with him. And if your options are to hang out with him or those jerks, he’ll just have to spend more time with you. The cycle ends, but without any real confrontation, which is how the both of you would prefer it.

Chuuya: your loyal guard dog. If he can’t convince you not to see “those piece of shit, dumbass jerks” ever again he’d tag along. Everything except barking would be on the table - he’d growl when they talked over you or break a finger if he had to. This is the man you want by your side, because he’d fight for your honor when he needs to or take you back to his place for a soothing spa-adjacent bath with amazing scented candles and over the top bubbles, maybe a glass of expensive wine, to unwind and forget it all. Also he’d block their numbers from your phone and threaten them to never contact you again 💀

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 27 days

Text

Not In The Slightest

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Diana is your mother's best friend. Cece is your best friend and Diana's daughter. Spencer is Cece's brother and your mortal enemy. You're often compared to him by your mother which makes you hate him. Wait, you do hate him... right?

Square Filled: best friend's sibling for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You’re not going downstairs. You’re not going to sit at a dinner table and be around people who always compare you to other people. Your mother is working tirelessly to get dinner ready while you’re in your room scrolling on TikTok. Suddenly, someone knocks on your door and enters without waiting for your permission. Your mother never waits for you to let her in. What if you had been changing? What if you were doing something you wanted privacy for?

“Y/N, why aren’t you ready? Diana will be over soon.”

“Do I have to go to this? Can’t I just go hang with Della or something?”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re going. Get ready.”

She leaves the door open when she leaves and you roll your eyes in annoyance. The only good thing about this dinner is that your best friend Cece is going to be there. She is your best friend while Diana is your mother’s. Maybe you can get away with only talking to Cece without your mother getting on your back about everything.

That’ll only happen if he doesn’t show up.

Him. Cece’s older brother. Dr. Spencer Reid. You can’t stand to be within the same room as him much less five feet from him. Your relationship with him has always been this way; ever since you two were kids. You weren't sure as to why since he has always been nice but the older you got, the more you understood your hatred.

It’s not so much hatred as it’s jealousy and envy. He always has to brag about some smart thing he did, always one-ups you whether he’s aware of it or not, and is just better at everything than you are. Your mother loves to compare you two, more so when you were younger.

Why can’t you be more like Spencer? Why can’t you be smart like him? Spencer is moving quickly through school at an alarming rate. Why can’t you do the same? He got into college at sixteen. What are you doing with your life?

You’re sick and tired of hearing Spencer did this and Spencer did that to the point where your jealousy is mixing with hatred. So, it’s not full-on hatred, just hatred adjacent.

When Diana, Cece, and Spencer get to your house, you make a goal to only talk to Cece with the occasional, “I’m doing good, Mrs. Reid. Thanks.” The entire time, you can feel Spencer’s eyes burning holes in the side of your head because he knows you’re doing everything you can to ignore him.

When dinner is ready, you are seated right across from Spencer so you have no choice but to look directly at him. Knowing he did this on purpose, you decide to angle yourself so that you’re facing Cece instead of him. She’s the only person who understands your dislike for her brother so she’ll do anything to make it as comfortable as she can for you.

Still, after about ten minutes of feeling Spencer’s eyes on you, you turn to Spencer with a glare.

“What the hell are you looking at? Stop staring at me.”

“Y/N!” your mother snaps. “Be nice!”

“Yeah, Y/N, be nice,” Spencer smirks slightly.

You resist the biggest eye roll you’ve ever done. Your mother turns the conversation onto Spencer so that he has to focus on her instead of you. Huh, did one thing right today, Mom.

“So, Spencer, how is your job going? Still at the FBI?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods politely. “I love it. I just got off a case that was pretty brutal but we got the bad guy.”

“I’m glad you’re adjusting well there.”

“I’m so proud of him,” Diana boasts. “I just know those three PhDs come in handy at a job like that.”

“Three?” your mother raises her eyebrows in shock. She knew he had doctorate degrees but didn’t know he held so many. “In what, may I ask?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have two bachelor’s degrees in psychology and sociology. I’m working on a third BA in philosophy.”

“So, you’re like a genius?”

Here we go again. You can’t get away with hearing about how Spencer is a genius. Cece can sense your annoyance and places a comforting hand on your leg.

“I wouldn’t call myself that, but yes.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

“Caltech.”

“See, Y/N, you’d do good at a school like that,” your mother jabs.

Just like that, you’re back to resenting Spencer. It’s not his fault he’s so damn smart. It’s your mother’s for not being proud of the many accompaniments you’ve already gotten in life. Sure, you’re not an FBI agent who has a million degrees, but you’re a senior manager at the company you work for who is trying to get a position on the board. She doesn't see that as an accomplishment.

“Don’t listen to her. You’re good at what you do now,” Cece whispers to you.

“Thanks,” you sigh and push around your food.

The conversation doesn’t stop there. It’s all Spencer did this at work and Spencer caught this unsub. Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. You’re getting a headache from all this so you grab your nearly full glass of water and stand up.

“I’m going to get some more water.”

Your mother barely notices you’ve left the table. You walk into the kitchen and set your glass in the sink with a sigh. You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, trying to will away the slight headache. The door to the kitchen swings open and you look up to see Spencer with his own full glass of water.

“Great, it’s you,” you scoff.

“Nice to see you, too.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I go where my mom goes. She wanted to have a nice dinner with her best friend. Not my fault she has a daughter who can’t stand me.”

“You’re damn right I can’t stand you. You’re stupid smart, annoying, always have to be the center of attention, and you rub it into everyone’s noses just how many degrees you have and where you went to college. Good for you that you graduated at sixteen. God, I wish my mom could just see how much of a prick her best friend’s son really is.”

You throw insults at Spencer left and right, and he stands there and takes it. You’re only acting out because you’re envious of him. Why can’t you be like him? More importantly, why can’t you have a mom who is proud of you in the way Spencer has?

When Spencer decides he’s had enough of your petty insults, he sets his glass in the sink and grabs both sides of your face.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

He silences you by kissing you passionately. Damn, is there anything this man isn't good at? He doesn’t have a lot of girlfriends but he knows how to kiss. He slides his tongue into your mouth to explore every inch you’re willing to give him in the short time you two have.

And you let him because deep down, you don’t hate him. Not even in the slightest.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fluff

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almightyellie · 2 years

Text

all your'n

in which you both know that he loves you. of course, you do.

word count is 1.6k

author says i simply love jake seresin, but not as much as i love a wedding date fic <3

title inspo is all your'n by tyler childers

“you two are a beautiful couple.”

an hour and a half ago, you might have corrected jake’s aunt (cousin?), but how many times can you smile politely and say, oh, just friends, actually and face that expression, half confused and half disappointed? now, you and jake just smile, and jake squeezes your waist while you say, “that’s so sweet, thank you.”

a wedding had seemed like an easy favor, but now you wonder how it ever could be. a room full of seresins, a little boozy and high off a joining of two souls. they’re as southern as southern comes, and the thrill of love and alcohol only further emphasizes this. jake laughs softly in your ear, squeezing you close.

he should have known that this would happen—you have a sneaking suspicion that maybe he did—but he had a little extra faith in his family, hoping they would be focused only on his baby sister on her day. you can tell she kind of loves it, though, because every time you catch her eye with a silent plea for help, she giggles and claps. she’s almost as bad as her brother.

neither of them are half as bad as their mother.

“isn’t it wonderful?” she croons, holding the two of you together. “i’ve been telling them to get together for years. they finally listened.” she finishes with a wink in your direction and a knowing smile. she truly had been telling you two to get together as long as she’s known you, but she’s taking this opportunity to really play it up.

you pinch jake’s side, sharing a knowing look with him. his tux offsets his tanned skin beautifully despite his complaints. beth had insisted he not wear his uniform (“don’t steal my limelight, asshole!”) to her civilian wedding, and though you loved a chance to see him in his uniform, it had been years since you’d seen him in any non-military formal wear. oh, was it a sight.

with a soft smile, he nods once. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he goads. “i think you’ve earned a drink.”

it’s almost a struggle to get to the bar unscathed, but it’s oh so worth it when you do and jake pays for your drink. “you shouldn’t have, babe,” you giggle.

he laughs good-naturedly. “you’re annoying. sit down.”

jake’s feeling like a real big man with you on his arm, looking so right and pretty. he’s been looking forward to this for weeks; any excuse to spend a few hours with you making him look better. he has to admit, his family is right. the two of you are a damn fine couple, and the ache he’s gotten so used to hurts a little more than normal.

you’ve known one another for years. somedays, jake thinks you know him better than he knows himself. most days, though, he knows that couldn’t possibly be true. if you knew him better than he knew himself, you would know that sometimes you smile at him and he gets a head rush. you would know that he lies awake at night just in case you text him something ridiculous about your cat or your job. you can’t know that just the sight of you makes his heart pound and his mouth dry because if you did, you would never look at him the same. you could never treat him like he’s just jake ever again, because you would know that you weren’t, and never had been, just you. you had always been everything.

you know a little more than you let on, but you won’t ever bring it up. he hadn’t always been so obvious, but since his return from top gun, he’s been just slightly different. you can’t know the specifics, but you know that he’s had a change of heart; he’s a little more open, a little more apologetic. a little less subtle. your best friend has such an ego, he might never survive if you told him that his jealousy, that his almost-yearning has been clear as day for the last few months.

he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring until you tilt your head at him with the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. “what?” you ask, taking a long pull from your water.

“i like this,” he answers honestly, brushing his knuckles softly against your hairline.

you smile disbelievingly at him, slightly incredulous. “like what?”

his cheeks pinken up and his smile, though still trying to pull off that smug act, can’t fool you. he’s bashful. “i just mean…that i like when we’re together.”

with a quiet laugh, you say, “well, i should hope so. we’ve spent the last ten years glued together.” the song changes and he loses what little nerve he managed to scrape together, so he finishes your water and nods when you insist, “come dance with me.”

“the road cones blur like memories of the miles we shared between,” he sings easily, wrapping one of his arms around your waist and grabbing your hand with the other. it’s one of his favorites, one you know far too well, and you’re happy to let him hum in your ear. he’s only a little tone-deaf—he struggles with the higher notes, and it’s such a familiar sound that you melt into his chest.

with his mouth against your ear and his thumb stroking circles against the back of your hand, you two sway on the dance floor. you like this, too. you like the way he holds you, how he smiles at you like you’re the only person he can see. you like when he sings to you even though you always jeer him, even though there are people around, even though he doesn’t need to.

the lights strung across the venue ceiling reflect in your eyes when you pull back to look at him. he’s entranced, especially when the corner of your lip turns up. “now what’s that look?”

he shakes his head with a growing grin, pulling you a little closer. “just thinking,” he answers.

your brows pinch in faux concern. “careful, seresin. you’ve been doing a lot of that tonight; don’t hurt yourself.”

with a roll of his eyes, he pinches your side. “watch it,” he warns, the smile evident in his voice, and you giggle.

“i think i smell smoke.”

jake heaves a long sigh, still swaying with you as you muffle your giggles in his suit jacket. “you think you’re cute, huh?”

you beam at him, tilting your head. “i think we both know that i’m adorable.”

“and you’re lucky you are, honey,” he murmurs, warm hand stroking up your spine. he’s looking at you unflinchingly, that twitch of his lips giving away his thoughts. It’s the first time all night that he isn’t shying away from openly adoring you.

you shiver under his gaze; he looks better than ever, under the soft lighting in his fancy suit. it’s the low rumble of his words, your chests pressed together, and the way he looks at you. you’ve always seen that little glimmer of adoration in him; you know him too well not to. part of you was waiting on him to make a move, but something about this moment—the warmth of his body and the way his eyes flicker to your lips, the unconscious way he pulls you closer.

jake feels faint at the sober way you look at him, like you’re looking right through him into his very soul. he almost shivers against you, but you don’t notice. you’re too busy leaning into him, resting your weight against his chest and nudging your nose against his. you’re sure his mother is staring, but you can’t find it in yourself to pull away; the thought of being watched doesn’t even cross jakes mind. he’s too wrapped up in you, eagerly awaiting your next move.

featherlight, your lips brush his. it’s hesitant, a little bashful, and he doesn’t want to startle you away but he can’t help himself. he makes the final leap and presses his lips to yours. a large, warm hand fills the dip of the small of your back, and you take in a deep breath as he kisses you earnestly. you stroke his cheek tenderly, allowing him more access. a little shiver trembles down your spine, goosebumps blooming across your arms; you hadn’t realized how desperate you had been to break the contract of your friendship until you had. years of waving off his mother and sister, years of waiting for him to make the first move, and you could have had him like this the entire time.

you pull away to suck in a soft breath, keeping him close when you press your forehead against his shoulder. his nose buries itself in your hair, breathing you in while you take a moment to consider him. over the speakers, the emcee—jake’s little brother showing off his seresin charm, naturally—begins to calling for the bouquet toss. “single ladies,” he croons, arching a suggestive brow. “what are y’all waiting for? get up here.” jake chuckles, rolling his eyes, and you can’t help your own laugh, muffled against your best friend’s chest.

“he’s such a showboat,” you scoff.

you lean back to look at him, and those green eyes look back at you so tenderly. his hand lifts, fingertips brushing your cheekbone, and in that soft tone that you love so much, he asks, “you gonna go up there?”

as if it were possible, you lean even closer and give him another soft kiss. “no. think i’m going to stay with you.”

he beams.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin oneshot #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman oneshot

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itsthatmff · 4 months

Note

Request for metal bat/garou / flashy flash reaction after he made s/o cry with their word. Like really rude or angry that hurt s/o feeling

Oop- so a part two on the making reader cry series 🥱

Ik I took my time..was quite busy. BUT I HOPE Y’ALL HAD A NICE NEW YEARS EVE!!

When they make you cry Pt. 2

Included: Metal bat, Garou, flashy flash

Gn!reader

Requests are open!!

Metal bat

I Can’t imagine this guy ever being rude to you

Like he treats his little sister like royalty so I believe he’d be no less with you

But let’s say he had a REALLY REALLY bad day

And you just happen to want to tell him about your day because you saw something really funny

“Could you just shut up for once. Seriously.”

You try asking him what’s wrong but he keeps dismissing you and it makes you mad. Mad to the point where you’re crying from frustration.

He doesn’t notice your tears at first but once he does he immediately regrets it.

He’d look at you all worried and wouldn’t know how to stop making you cry so he stands there next to you not knowing what to do with his hands. Should he wipe your tears? Pull you into a hug? Damn zenko never taught him this stuff.

“Please don’t cry- I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry!”

Thinks he’s the biggest jerk and asshole for making you cry and won’t forgive himself.

Will explain to you that he had a bad day and apologize for lashing out on you.

Will give you the best treatment afterwards and spoil you rotten to make you feel better

Garou

Getting into feisty arguments and fights with this guy was not rare in your relationship. You’d sometimes even go days without speaking.

But this time was different. You both got into a fight which escalated a LOT. Garou’s self control got out of hand and he said some things that hurt you like nothing ever did. It felt like he stabbed right into your heart.

Of course you started to cry. Was that really the way he thought about you?

He realized himself that what he said was a bit too much when massaging his temples out of frustration, “ah shit..look Y/N forget what I said.”

But that would just make you more upset. How could he simply take back something this severe?

He couldn’t stand seeing you cry in front of him. You really were one of his only weaknesses.

He’d pull you into a tight hug and wouldn’t let go even if you demanded to.

“Not letting ya go..y’know I love you right?”

You both are too stubborn to admit one of you was in the wrong but he still apologizes in his own way.

Lots of physical affection. He will make sure not to lash out on you like that again

Flashy flash

While he tends to avoid unnecessary conflict especially with his lover, he simply won’t stand still if something bothers him - even if it’s you.

Sometimes you could just be a little too much for him, a little too overbearing.

And Flashy flash was one to bluntly say what was on his mind. There was no need for sugar coating.

So when he said that you were being too much on him, it came off harsher than intended.

You were immediately drawing to conclusions, thinking that he wanted to break up with you. It was only natural for tears to fall down your cheeks.

Flashy flash certainly got surprised. This was the first time he’s ever seen you in such a vulnerable state. The first time he’s seen you cry.

Without a word he’d immediately wrap his arms around you, something rather unusual for him to do even as your boyfriend.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He’d mutter a little apology and let you cry yourself out.

Little words would be spoken to eachother but you’d both understand what the other felt. And you’d both try to better yourselves for the other.

#flashy flash #flashy flash x reader #one punch man #garou #headcanons #garou x reader #garou opm #metal bat x y/n #metal bat x reader #metal bat #opm headcanons #opm #opm garou #genos x reader

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