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vonlycsnn · 2 months

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✧ — PICTURE PERFECT

~ VON LYCAON X GENDER NEUTRAL ARTIST! READER.

SUMMARY: You're a famous artist/illustrator in New Eridu, absolutely tired of trying to deal with recent problems. then you decide to call Victoria Housekeeping Co. for some help, it was the best decision of your life.

- cw/tw: none.

- A/N: im so obsessed over this man its genuinely concerning, pls help. also this might be messy/ooc(?)...it's my first time writing this kinda stuff so bare with me.

Being such a well-known artist in New Eridu is tough work. Not only do you have to keep up with your clients' demands and expectations, you also have to deal with thieves trying to steal your work.

You were thankful that some of your most valuable artworks were in museums that had incredible security, but even so, those bastards are still trying to break into your mansion and steal your canvases that have yet to be delivered or even unfinished.

Understandably, you grew tired of all the stuff you went through, slowly becoming restless from the amount of sleepless nights you had to fight through. To the point where you wanted to quit art completely but you just couldn't. Art was your passion. You've been drawing for nearly your entire life; you couldn't quit now.

Thankfully, a kind client of yours took notice of your situation and recommended Victoria Housekeeping to you. At first you were skeptical; there's no way a housekeeping company could help you with these problems, right?

—

"I don't think they'll be able to help me..." you kindly said. The client merely smiled and gave you a pat on the shoulder.

"Just give them a call. Trust me."

—

And here you are now, constantly being served and protected by the members of Victoria Housekeeping. You were extremely grateful for their service; they've made your life so much better than you expected.

You've grown so close to them that you became one of their most respected clients, having to be close friends with each of the members. You didn't want to say that you had a favorite attendant, but you do have a preferred one.

Rina, although her general services are incredible and you'd always find yourself having a great time with her, her culinary skills are...questionable at best, but still, you didn't want to upset her by any means.

Corin is a sweet girl. When the two of you became acquainted, you saw her as a little sister. Although you were surprised at how strong she is for her age, you didn't think much of it. The problem with her is how much she doubts herself; you'd have to constantly remind her that she's not doing anything wrong, and as much as you hate to admit it, you were pretty annoyed.

Ellen, well...she isn't too enthusiastic about regular housekeeping jobs, not to mention she's always low-energy. But the number of times she saved you from the most dangerous situations was enough for her to gain your respect. Plus, talking about internet trends with her is always fun.

And there's Lycaon. Oh, did you have so many words about him. To keep it simple, he was just right. His services are always near perfect; he has saved you countless times from hollows and thieves; he is elegant; he is a gentleman; you could ramble about him all day for all you cared.

To be perfectly honest, you grew a crush on him. Every time he'd lean behind you to see what you're working on, you'd always freeze in place. Too flustered by what was happening. Every time you'd hear his voice, you'd melt. The way he acts just makes your heart flutter...He was perfect.

As your own personal request for him, you wished he'd spend more time with you. Be it in the mansion or outside. He smiled, bowing down in front of you.

—

"As you wish, master. I'm more than happy to spend time with an amazing artist such as yourself." He said. You saw his tail wagging ever so slightly, but decided to say nothing; you merely smiled.

—

Every now and then he'd come to your office to check on you; he'd bring you food every time you lost track of time; he'd give you a massage whenever you had free time.

"It's always important to maintain a good posture, master." As he would say.

But being an attendant for a full-time artist comes with its own challenges. Other than having to constantly be on guard at night for possible thieves, he'd always let out an irritated sigh whenever he saw your workspace covered in paint. Especially when you're making abstract art. But he understands that art can be messy sometimes, and that's fine.

Every time you get a commission to make abstract art, you'd always rent a workspace outside of the mansion. Just so Lycaon doesn't have to deal with the mess.

But other than that, the two of you were grateful for each other's company.

Much to your dismay, however, your feelings for him grew the longer you spent time with him. You became so close to Lycaon than any of the other attendants; he knew your weakness, he knew your strengths, and he even knew some of your secrets.

You couldn't express your feelings for him with words, and so you did what you knew best: to draw. As a request, you asked Lycaon if you could take a few pictures of him. Of course he obliged. Amidst the photography, he asked.

"If I were to be bold to ask, master, what is the purpose of this?"

You merely smiled at him, saying that it's nothing important. A part of him knew about what you're planning, but he decided to keep quiet and merely chuckled.

After the interaction, you quickly but stealthily took a small canvas and a few of your painting supplies.

—

Days passed, and the painting was finally ready. You have pulled many all-nighters to finish this; you spent so much time carefully adding details and capturing his looks to the formerly blank canvas. And you couldn't be happier with the results; you just hope it was enough to make him understand the message you're trying to pass.

You took a deep breath and finally called for him. He quickly arrives at your workspace, noticing the medium-sized easel and the small paint stains on the floor. Your back was facing towards him, trying to hide the painting from his view. Realizing what to do, you flipped the canvas and turned towards him. He was understandably confused, and you were too nervous to say anything. You quickly walked up to him and handed the canvas to him.

"Here. I...made this for you." You said in such a shaky voice, he was almost concerned. But he gently grabs the canvas, and finally, he turns it to reveal the drawing. He was... speechless. Absolutely speechless. Just standing there, appreciating what he's seeing. You stuttered, trying to get words out of your mouth.

"...as a way to express how much I'm thankful for everything you've done. You're an amazing attendant, and I wanted to repay you somehow. W-well, other than using money." You awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with your fingers.

Lycaon continues to silently admire your work of him. You captured his features so well; the colors were so nice to look at, the pose, the lighting... it was so beautiful. He always appreciates the time and effort you put into your artwork. Secretly, he has been going to your workspace at night to admire all of the work you've done. He couldn't help but laugh once he saw how red your face was.

"My sincere apologies, master. But if I may ask, what are you trying to say?" He asked, almost in a teasing matter. Oh, he knows.

You panicked, so overwhelmed by the situation at hand. A part of you is trying to come up with lies, but ultimately, you gave in.

After taking a deep breath, you officially admitted your true feelings. Well, in the simplest way possible. You couldn't help but cringe at what you've said. This is so embarrassing, you thought.

Lycaon smiled, looking back at the painting to caress the sides of the canvas. He chuckled once more.

"What an astonishing way to express such feelings towards someone. I must say, master, I'm truly impressed."

The thiren carefully puts the canvas on a small table next to him, then he walks towards you. Gently grabbing your hand.

"As for what are my thoughts regarding all of this," he then proceeds to kiss the back of your hand. You jumped to his action, watching every move he made. He looked back at you softly.

There you heard it—the words that'd make you fall to the ground instantly.

"I'd be delighted to be more than an attendant for you, my dear."

#N-Writes #zenless zone zero #zzz #zzzero #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz x reader #von lycaon #zzz lycaon #von lycaon x reader #lycaon x reader #zenless zone zero lycaon

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temis-de-leon · 2 months

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Gn!MC with thick curly hair

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Satan and Asmodeus (x reader, separately; could be read as pre-relationship since it's a tiny bit suggestive)

Main Masterlist

@cubandevil04 : Hello!! I ADORE your writing, it's so fun😘 I was wondering if I could have an obey me headcanon (lucifer, mammon, satan and asmodeus please🙏) with a GN!MC with thick curly hair?? Very 70s curly shag style💅😜 just overall reaction and their thoughts, especially since no character with curly hair has been introduced👀 please and thank you!!

A/N: had so much fun with this one that I wrote it in just a day, can you believe it?

We’re bringing sheep!MC to the table here. Whether you want them to be an ewe or a ram, it doesn’t matter; in the end, they’re cute and their wool is curly and fluffy.

I haven’t read the manga, where this version of MC takes place, so I don’t know how it works, but I like to think the potential human students didn’t have photos on their information sheets as to “not judge a book by its cover”, therefore no one really knew how MC looked like.

(Actually, this HC works with human!MC too)

It isn’t until the year is coming to an end that MC’s biology and immune system have developed enough to survive the Devildom’s atmosphere in their human form. They’re allowed to transform back and everyone finally sees what they’ve been missing out this whole time.

Lucifer

Due to his work, his taste and the way he is overall, most of Lucifer’s friends belong to the nobility or high society or are generally people with ambition and success in mind.

While he can enjoy going to clubs, like some of his brothers, his personality shines in more private ambiences. Old-money type of parties where chatter is never loud and guests are well groomed and put together, showing themselves in their demon forms with grace; the ultimate level of formal attire.

No matter your gender, hair is supposed to be pushed back with a polished look, so thick curls are hardly appreciated.

When he sees your human form for the first time, and this is something he will take to the grave, his first fleeting thought is wondering if you somehow maintained some ovine feature that made your hair look like that.

Suffice to say, it doesn’t take him too long to understand that your appearance is entirely yours and not the consequences of some spell.

He’s not blushing, MC. Stop laughing at him.

Will compliment you to make you blush instead.

The unruliness of your haircut makes it impossible for him to stop staring and he can’t help but imagine what would it feel like to touch it, to curl the loops around his fingers as many times as you’d let him.

He’s curious about how messy it’d look with a bedhead, but that’s a thought he’d rather revisit later.

Mammon

Although he was extremely curious about your human appearance since the moment you started to grow on him, it wasn’t something he lost sleep over.

He would love you no matter what you looked like.

However.

Being a model himself, it is impossible not to picture you on the cover of a magazine the first time he lays eyes on you. Looking upwards, eyes directed towards the camera under your lashes and lips partially parted, barely hiding a knowing smile.

Yeah, he can picture you. Perhaps too well.

But he’s being honest! You could be a model, MC!

Demons have been following human trends since the dawn of time, given that they are to be perceived as temptation, and he hasn’t seen that haircut in decades. Sure, curls have always been present, but not in that specific style.

You will catch him staring at you way more often than when you were a sheep, but there’s a shift in his eyes that you’ll only notice if you stare just as much.

Before your change, there was admiration and affection, an honest yet small smile that would disappear behind his hand in embarrassment whenever you’d turn his way.

Now, besides that, there’s also yearning. A desire to do something that only manifests when his fingers grab the end of your curls and gently tug to make them longer each time you sit together in class.

He will stop if it bothers you even if your rejection hurts a little, but please, please, allow him this much.

Satan

Unlike his eldest brother’s, Satan’s social circle is diverse and large, ranging from interns and students to CEOs and deans.

You never know where help and privileges may be coming from, after all.

He’s not picky about the origins of his friendships either, so one day he might be seen chatting with the National Fangol’s Vice Chairman and with an undiscovered indie singer the next.

His world is versatile and constantly evolves; he’s met a lot of different people through the many years of his life and all of them looked different from the other.

While yours is a haircut he’s already seen other people have, he still smiles the first time he sees your human form, although that might be due to him finally seeing your true self.

There’s a wild feeling to you that’s also cosy and confident. You remind him of bookstore cafés and open mic bars and even music festivals in summer where the dirt is covered in empty cans, half-smoked cigarettes and unconscious people.

He wonders if you like music or poetry, if he could introduce anybody to you that could make your dreams come true or that could give him the perfect opportunity to take you on your ideal date.

Or maybe you’re not an artistic person and you have your fixation focused on science or magic.

Perhaps none of them or even all at once!

He stares, not because he’s obsessed with you or your fitting hairstyle, but because he’s dying to know how much more is there for him to uncover.

Asmodeus

I’m going to step into shitpost territory here, but if he could have a Pokedex of inhabitants of the Devildom and beyond, you better believe it would be halfway full.

He’s known, met, and befriended (and more) so many people that is difficult for him to discover someone different.

It’s not your fault or lack of creativity, but when you’re an extroverted demon with such an experience in socializing like him, it gets to a point where finding unique features gets hard.

Still, when he first sees you, he can’t help but stare with shiny eyes and an open wide smile.

Your appearance helps your personality make sense. It’s an accessory that compliments you and, now that he has the whole picture, he can remember all those moments he shared with you and replace your cute little sheep shape with the human body that’s keeping him awake at night.

It’s not like that! Nothing filthy!

Although he won’t mind if you happen to slip inside his bed in the middle of the night.

He just can’t stop thinking about you, the way your curls frame your face or bounce when you play that tiring dance game in Levi’s room.

Not much time passes until he starts watching videos on Deviltube on how to define curls or how to style them with silk scarfs, rings, chains and even crystals. He’ll be happy to help you with the process, especially if it takes longer than expected. That just means you both get to spend even more time together.

And you’re going to look so cute!

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

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breadandblankets · 3 months

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Duke is a man of science and a man of questions. This leads him down many rabbit holes but most specifically printing out dozens upon dozens of business cards.

Gothamites are by and large, smart people, so not many people scan the little code even if it was put in their hands by Gotham's very own daytime hero. But it only takes a couple to get #SignalSurvey trending.

Duke doesn't find out (even though he has been trawling social media for days) until Babs shoots him a text in his Econ class (which is honestly a snoozefest anyway).

Sauron: I'll keep your secret.

Galadriel: dont u dare skew my data

Sauron: I would Never

Galadriel: yes u would

Sauron: little birdy has been a good boy so he may live.

Young people, who were reckless enough with their online safety (and knowledgeable enough to actually Use the thing) are the first to complete Duke's little experiment.

The answers start pouring in, with Red Hood well in the lead. The comments include things like "wet blanket" and "lame" which makes Duke laugh his whole ass off.

It's not until older internet savvy people get a hold of the link that the results become Fascinating. Nightwing begins to pull ahead, the comments are filled with: "please please less puns they're terrible" and "can't stand him but he's adorable so I forgive him".

Memorably: "Nightwing rescued me from a hostage situation one time. He talked the whole time and at the end I wanted to go back to my kidnappers. You're my hero Mr. Nightwing but Please."

Duke does actually get some votes for himself (included for sake of completeness) and he's not going to lie, shit hurts. Although some of the comments are just to the effect of "Bright :(", which does make him laugh.

There are plenty of votes for Batman (expected), Spoiler/Batgirl (expected but he's mad about it), the Robins (Fair), and a handful for Batgirl/Batgirl.

(Those seem to mostly be from goons complaining about her efficiency and how scary she is, Duke thinks they may have missed the point of the survey.)

At the end he compiles it all, gleefully makes a powerpoint, and bounds into Family Saturday Dinner™ with a ultra short throw projector and a dream.

The noise of the dining room doesn't dim even as Duke clears his throat, typical. It's when he starts speaking, clear and even, that people stop waging their personal wars.

"Most Annoying Bat, as voted by the people of Gotham," Duke anounces.

"A vote? By the people of Gotham?" Jason says, his voice strangled. "You mean the thing that killed me?"

"Number three: Batman."

It's here that all hell finally breaks loose.

#duke thomas #barbara gordon #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #batfam #bread talk #trying to clear out my draft fics lmao #my fic #not happy with the ending but i have No Spoons so anyone is More than free to write an ending in the comments #i will love u forever and ever

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artemisia-black · 8 months

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Wizarding clothing and fashion

This meta/list of HCs has been sitting in my drafts for a while. But here is my meta about wizarding fashions.

1.0 An insular culture with its own unique dress

No shade to people who enjoy seeing and drawing characters in muggle clothing, but I think that the majority of wizards and witches dress in wizarding clothing.

Indeed, the fact that most wizards can’t dress as muggles and are quite conspicuous is mentioned in the first chapter of the series:

“People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn’t bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.” PS

And then becomes a sort of running joke:

“Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho” GoF

And in DH it is (partly) how Harry recognises that people are watching Grimmauld Place:

“The lurkers were never the same two days running, although they all seemed to share a dislike for normal clothing. Most of the Londoners who passed them were used to eccentric dressers and took little notice, though occasionally one of them might glance back, wondering why anyone would wear such long cloaks in this heat.” DH

Side note: it is peak Londoner to barely take notice of something odd. And this also implies that robes and cloaks are all year wear and that wizards potentially don’t have seasonal clothing.

Given that wizarding culture is very insular (with its own economy, government, and education system), it would make sense that while it may occasionally borrow trends from the muggle world, wizarding fashion and clothing are unique.

In fact, only the younger generation are seen in muggle dress, with Harry commenting:

“Their children might don Muggle clothing during the holidays, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley usually wore long robes in varying states of shabbiness.” GoF

2.0 Class and generational differences in dress

The previous quote demonstrates two things: much like in real life, there is generational and class stratification of dress. The condition and quality of wizarding clothing serves as a non-verbal cue about a character's economic status. This disparity is not just a background detail but is frequently brought into focus, such as through Draco Malfoy's derisive comments about Professor Lupin's tattered robes.

“ Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the delapidated suitcase.” PoA

“Look at the state of his robes,” Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. “He dresses like our old house-elf.” PoA

Even Harry comments on his robes and observes that:

“Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes”

The patched and frayed nature of both Lupins and Weasley’s robes seem to indicate that robe repairs can’t be done by an individual (or when it is done, it is really visible). Another example of this is when Ron removes the lace from his dress robes and leaves:

“...the edges still looked depressingly frayed as the boys set off downstairs.” GoF

Additionally, in Padfoot returns Sirius’s prison robes still appear tatty despite him having had a haircut and left the country. This indicates that he either can’t obtain new robes or can’t/hasn’t bothered repairing his Azkaban robes.

This is interesting, given that Molly Weasley is able to make jumpers and scarves yet can’t seem to alter robes. While knitting and sewing are separate skills, it seems odd that there aren’t means of repairing robes.

This suggests that robes can only be repaired and bought at official vendors such as Madam Malkins/Gladrags/Twifitt and Tattings.

It is also interesting that both Fred and George buy clothing when they become successful (also a parallel to the real world). They gift their mum:

“….a brand-new midnight blue witch’s hat glittering with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace.” HBP

However, things being ‘frayed’ aren’t always an indication of poverty. Tonks is first introduced wearing an outfit that is a mix of muggle clothing but with something that is distinctly wizarding:

“Tonks stood just behind him…. wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend THE WEIRD SISTERS.” OoTP

This outfit is heavily reminiscent of Sirius and James in the Elvendork prequel:

“Both were dressed in T-shirts emblazoned with a large golden bird; the emblem, no doubt, of some deafening, tuneless rock band.”

3.0 The underwear question

Something that gets bought up a lot is whether wizards wear underwear.

Harry (who was raised by muggles certainly seems to):

“He was just piling underwear into his cauldron when Ron made a loud noise of disgust behind him.” GoF

And:

“He was shivering now, his teeth chattering horribly, and yet he continued to strip off until at last he stood there in his underwear…” DH

So does Neville (in the UK, Pants means underwear)

“He broke off as Neville entered the dormitory, bringing with him a strong smell of singed material, and began rummaging in his trunk for a fresh pair of pants.”

And infamously, so does Snape:

“Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants.”

Also we get some information about witch’s underwear from Sirius’s very Freudian joke:

“Sirius looked slightly disconcerted for a moment, then said, “I’ll look for him later, I expect I’ll find him upstairs crying his eyes out over my mother’s old bloomers.”

Bloomers are a type of historical, baggy underpants (think boy shorts, but make it victorian).

In conclusion, Archie, who wanted a breeze around his privates, was probably an outlier.

4.0 Materials and accesories

So what is wizarding clothing made of?

For robes and cloaks the materials most mentioned are silk/satin and velvet:

“ She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.” GoF

Additionally in GoF, we learn that even witches and wizards from other countries wear robes and cloaks:

“Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred.”

And

“...Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold.”

Other materials include Dragon hide which appears to be used to make practical gloves and boots but also fashionable jackets.

“... followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragon skin.” HBP

Additionally, robes can be embroidered:

“ The man’s scowling, slightly brutish face was somehow at odds with his magnificent, sweeping robes, which were embroidered with much gold thread” DH

“Harry glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent, long, emerald green robes embroidered with silver” HBP

“Madam Rosmerta scurrying down the dark street toward them on high-heeled, fluffy slippers, wearing a silk dressing gown embroidered with dragons.” HBP

Interestingly, both men and women appear to wear heels:

Dumbledore:

“He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots” PS

Madame Maxine:

“Then Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage..” GoF

Monsiour Delacour:

“However, he looked good-natured. Bouncing toward Mrs. Weasley on high-heeled boots, he kissed her twice on each cheek, leaving her flustered.” DH

Madame Rosmerta:

“ Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels,” POA

Furthermore, witches carry handbags:

“Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly” COS

“ She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm.” GoF

“Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag” OoTP

“Ron was rummaging through the little witch’s handbag.” DH

5.0 My HCs

When I imagine what male robes look like, I imagine something akin to a Morrcan thobe or an Indian Sherwani.

I imagine robes to be enchanted to move and in my fic Pietas, I describe my OC Aeliana’s robes as follows:

“She smiled slightly, smoothing the front of her dress, which was decorated with embroidered flowers and birds that had been enchanted to flutter their wings.”

I also HC some cultural variance in robes- with certain countries using different cloth or the skin of magical animals that are native to their countries. With hotter countries, having lighter robes and cooling/anti-perspiration charms.

#harry potter

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cannedpickledpeaches · 8 months

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Beneficial Marriage

Jade x Reader

You’ve thought about it long and hard. Yes, this is the conclusion you came to. A way to secure your future.

You slam your hands on the table as you stand, your eyes boring into Jade’s face. He continues writing in the Lounge’s ledger book without moving from his seat. You would have thought he didn’t take any notice of your abrupt action, but the slight upwards quirk of his lips gives him away.

“As I thought, I have to get married to a competent person!”

You think you hear him exhale a quick puff of air, something that barely qualifies as laughter.

“Is ‘competent’ truly the word you are looking for?” He flips a page, eyes still trained on the numbers. “Surely, you must have meant ‘wonderful,’ ‘kind,’ ‘compassionate,’ ‘loving,’ or something along those lines, no?”

“Those would be nice, too. But competent definitely is my priority. A useless partner is just dead weight on my shoulders, right? There’s no way I can marry someone who’ll drag me down.”

What brought this on was the recent success of your clothing brand. Your wares focus on making human fashion trends comfortable to wear for all manner of beastkin. Tails, ears, fur, horns, you name it and there’s a category in your online shop for it. It is not a new concept, but it is still true that most trending clothes are created with regular humans in mind. It certainly did not hurt for Vil to casually mention your shop in his recent Magicam post.

“If my success continues, doesn’t this mean I have the potential to really make a lot of money?” You have a surprisingly good business sense, so you think you have a pretty good chance of keeping your brand afloat. But with great money comes great responsibility. “I don’t want to get exploited by a partner for my money, nor do I want my partner to be an idiot who makes growing my business difficult. So it’ll be best if they’re competent and have no issues with managing their own income. They could even help out with mine, although I’m aware that might be asking for too much.”

Jade notes down some calculations, flawlessly multitasking between managing the ledger and listening to you. He hasn’t looked up at you once, but you can tell he’s finding great entertainment in listening to your ramblings. The barely restrained grin on his lips is a dead giveaway.

“You underestimate the greed some possess. Even a businessman with a flourishing company may attempt to steal yours.”

“Well then, I imagine my judgement of character will be so good that I can filter out those people right away.” His shoulders shake slightly. Is he stifling a laugh? “Don’t laugh at me. I’m being serious here.”

“Don’t you think,” he says, closing the ledger, “the fact that you remain friends with me indicates your poor skills in judgement?”

“Don’t be edgy. It’s making you exude middle-schooler vibes.” You dramatically place a hand over your chest and close your eyes in mock sorrow. “Stay away from me for your own good! I’m dangerous!”

Jade finally chuckles audibly, hiding his grin behind a gloved hand. You open one eye out of curiosity. His sharp eyes dart up to meet yours. There’s a curve to them that only exists when the smile is genuine. You aren’t sure how happy you are to be the source of his entertainment.

“How interesting it is to hear that is how you perceive my words. I will be more careful with what I say in the future.”

“Whatever, we’re off topic.” You cross your arms and shifting your weight from one foot to the other. In your excitement, you’ve forgotten you have the option to sit back down. “I’m still thinking about my requirements for a partner.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” He leans forward in his seat and tilts his head. He must find your dilemma funny. Certainly, he wouldn’t have any troubles finding a partner, the son of rich parents that he is. “We are still young.”

“And no longer in school! Meeting people has never been so difficult.” It’s not that you don’t socialize. Networking is important for business, after all. Unfortunately, nobody so far has met your standards. “If I lower my expectations, my successful and worry-free future will be compromised!”

“There is nothing wrong with staying single.”

You look to the side, pursing your lips. A slight flush settles on your cheeks. When you reply, it is barely above a whisper.

“Maybe I kind of, sort of, just a tiny bit, want a relationship.”

Jade doesn’t look surprised. If anything, his grin grows bigger and shows a few too many serrated teeth.

“There is nothing wrong with that, either. If it will ease your troubles, may I propose a solution?” He reaches across the table and reaches for your hand. You meet him halfway. Your fingers rest in his palm lightly, with enough control to yank back at a moment’s notice if he decides to pull something unhinged just to tease you. He doesn’t do so, but his expression puts you on alert. “Wouldn’t you agree that I am competent enough to be a candidate for your partner?”

You blink once. Twice.

“What kind of bull—”

You snap your mouth shut. Upon further thought, it’s not a bad offer. You’ve known Jade for years. He’s shifty but reliable when you need him to be. Despite your wariness around his hidden motives and his constant sense of schadenfreude, there’s an underlying unspoken trust between both of you. If it comes down to it, you’re confident you can, to some extent, counter his schemes. His family is rich, he’s set to inherit the business, and he’s capable enough to run it properly. Actually, isn’t he a pretty good choice?

“I’ll consider it.”

It’s worrisome how his smile looks like that of a cat that caught the canary, but you suppose he’s always been like that. You can cut him some slack this time. You don’t even withdraw your hand when he pulls it to his lips.

“I am very pleased to hear that.”

“Only for consideration, okay? I haven’t made a decision yet. But even if I do,” your eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, “it should be fine. Couples can always break up, engagements can be annulled, even marriages can be broken by a divorce. So really, I have nothing to worry about!”

He presses his cheek to the palm of your hand, his grin seeming about to split his face in half. He murmurs against your skin in a tone that sounds more like a promise than a goal.

“Rest assured that if you truly choose to be mine, I have no plans on letting you go.” His eyes, sparkling in mischief and withheld laughter, curve with his smile. “So do take your time and think long and hard about it. I will patiently await your answer.”

#disney twst #jade leech #twst jade #twst x reader #twst x yuu #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #Jade’s trying and failing to not laugh #they’ve graduated from nrc in this fic

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 23 days

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reading updates: august 2024

the good news is that I did a lot of reading this month, the bad news is that honestly? I think that my birthday month has had the biggest percentage of literary letdowns, duds, and outright bullshit than any other month of this year so far.

but at least there's plenty to talk about, so let's get going!

Unlearning Shame: How We Can Reject Self-Blame Culture and Reclaim Our Power (Devon Price, 2024) - uh oh gamers, we're starting on a doozy! I've enjoyed both of Price's previous books very much, but with Unlearning Shame I couldn't help but feel like I couldn't quite shake the feeling that I wasn't getting what I had signed on for. the issue, I think, could be corrected by an adjustment to the title, which seems to be promising a very broad tackling of the concept of shame and is therefore making some pretty big promises. in reality, the book is much more narrowly focused than that, interested primarily in the shame that arises in the activism-minded when they feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of awful things in the world and their perceived inability to do anything about it. fairly early on Price introduces an apparently relatable anecdote about himself and a friend having mutual breakdowns in a grocery store because they were both so paralyzed by the conundrum of trying to buy the most ethical groceries possible, and I realized this book was maybe not really for me or my particular experiences with shame. I think this book will be really helpful for a lot of people for sure, would love to pass it on to a lot of my freshmen, but overall it did not live up to the expectations I brought to the party.

A Separate Peace (John Knowles, 1959) - so I wanted to reread this because someone on here sent me an ask about, I don't know, my favorite required high school reading or whatever, and I said it was A Separate Peace but then I realized it's been over a decade since I read the book and I had to go see if it still actually held up. and god, does it EVER. this is such a brutal and heartbreaking novel, beginning in the last carefree summer that best friends and roommates Gene and Finny will experience before their final year at their boys' private school and their seemingly inevitable draft into WW2. although Gene is seethingly jealous of Finny's seemingly effortless charisma, popularity, confidence, and athletic prowess, the two boys are also inseparable - until a tragic injury changes the course of Finny's life forever. this book is a mess of unspoken pain, from the looming end of innocence on a global scale to the intimate ache of loving your best friend so, so much and having no healthy way to express it because you're a repressed little rich boy in the 1940s.

Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea (Rita Chang-Eppig, 2023) - Chang-Eppig's debut novel follows the career of Chinese pirate Shek Yeung, also known as Zheng Yi Sao, immediately following the death of her husband, fearsome pirate Sheng Yi. you've probably seen a post or two about her floating around on this very hellsite, calling her a pirate queen and accompanied by this image:

Chang-Eppig isn't interested in portraying Shek Yeung as any kind of heroine or feminist icon; over and over again it's acknowledged that she's simply a woman who has survived massive hardships and will do whatever she needs to do to survive. manipulation? spying? extortion? torture? murder? you name it, she's done it, and she does not feel remorse. while the novel wasn't a knockout for me either in terms of plot or prose, it's nice to see an entry into the trend of "retelling" stories from history and mythology centered on women that isn't determined to justify every step a maligned woman ever made. Shek Yeung is what she is, and her story makes for a gritty, bloody adventure.

Victim (Andrew Boryga, 2024) - this book is pure sleazeball fun; if you've ever wondered what I consider a romp, this is it. Victim follows our manipulative king Javi Perez as he builds a writing career for himself by turning in one essay after another about racial discrimination that he never really experienced, inventing stories of hardship caused by racism and poverty from his college application essay to his school newspaper to the story that finally brings the whole lie crashing down when he stretches the truth too far. the novel is written like Javi's apology in the wake of getting #canceled, and while I do sometimes feel that this premise makes some of the writing seem a bit implausible (why would you admit that!!!) it's a fun setup for a scandal that would have been a bloodbath on the twitter of old. come get your mess!!!

Bad Girls (Camila Sosa Villada, trans. Kit Maude, 2022) - this is my first time reading Sosa Villada's work but OH BOY, do I need to seek out more. this is a skinty little novel following a dramatized account of the travesti (or transgender) women who live and sell sex in Córdoba, Argentina. the women build an unsteady but beautiful and magic-infused family under the protection of the ancient Auntie Encarna. the protagonist (who is named Camila Sosa Villada, no relation I'm sure) watches as her unconventional family grows, changes, and frays over time, struggling to find ways to stay afloat in a world that see them as disposable. Sosa Villada's turns of phrase are brilliant and searing, and she weaves fantastical elements so nimbly into her narrative that it's utterly believable to see women becoming animals and courting headless men in the streets of a modern city. strongly recommend for fans of Kai Cheng Thom's Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars.

Talkin' Up to the White Woman: Indigenous Women and Feminism (Aileen Morteon-Robinson, 2000) - this book serves as a scathing literature review indicting Australia's white women anthropologists and feminist scholars for the ways in which they've dehumanized and discredited Aboriginal women, stripping them of the right to be authorities of their own experiences and barring them from a white-centered feminist movement. Moreton-Robinson's account is excellent, contrasting the wok of white women academics with the accounts of Aboriginal women to reveal exactly how massive the disparities in understanding are. as a USAmerican previously aware of Australia's colonial history but unfamiliar with the specifics, it was jarring to discover exactly how similar the mechanism of colonial violence are between my country and Australia, with countless genocidal parallels to be drawn. one particular highlight of the book comes via my purchase of a 20th anniversary edition, which includes a new post-script by Moreton-Robinson in which she dissects and responds to various criticisms of the book at its time of release, taking several critics to task for the belittling tone they used to describe her work and the tools white feminists use to absolve themselves of blame in the face of critique from women of color. fascinating and thorough articulation of Moreton-Robinson's point, and deservedly blistering. I love when academics call each other out by name.

The End of Love: Racism, Sexism, and the Death of Romance (Sabrina Strings, 2024) - so the thing about this book is that there are really good PARTS. Strings is still an excellent historical writer, and I found a lot to appreciate in, for instance, the segments on the history of Black American pimp culture and the analysis of Playboy and Helen Gurley Brown's Sex and the Single Girl. the more personal segments, where Strings contorts herself to fit her own failed relationships into the narrative she's building, are decidedly less consistent in their quality, with some feeling like they would have been better off staying between Strings and her therapist. there's a long and convoluted digression about Sex and the City, and a strange anecdote towards the end in which String recounts a phone call with a friend's college-aged son who, String believes, was masturbating during the call. a yucky experience, to be certain, but I'm not sure it justifies Strings filing a police report against the youth and his mother, who she accuses of having groomed her on the son's behalf. she also casually drops in the same chapter that she considers herself pansexual because she's attracted to trans men in addition to cis men? idk man!!! this book was so uneven that I found myself genuinely questioning whether Strings' first book, Fearing the Black Body, is actually as excellent as I remember it being. I'm pretty sure it is, but god it sucks to get shaken so hard that you have to wonder!

The Diary of a Teenage Girl: An Account in Words and Pictures (Phoebe Gloeckner, 2002) - another book that I had to read for class, years ago! I read Diary of a Teenage Girl in one of my gender and women's studies classes in my undergrad, for a class with a title along the lines of Girlhood Stories in Fiction and Film. Gloeckner's novel (though heavily informed by her own life, she insists that it's a work of fiction) sees its young protagonist, Minnie, navigating a great deal of sex, alcohol, drugs in 1970s San Francisco. I started thinking about the book because I was listening to a trio of episodes of You're Wrong About in which Carmen Maria Machado guests to talk about the pervasive sham that is Go Ask Alice (great series, check it out) and I started thinking about Diary, which is so much less preachy and didactic and is, you know, actually drawn from a real teenage girl's diary, unlike Go Ask Alice, and lacking Alice's preachy didacticism. as a diary based on a real diary this book is largely lacking in any particular plot (the most consistent through line is Minnie's ongoing and tumultuous sexual relationship with her mother's 35 year old boyfriend), but if that's not a turn off then you'll find yourself rooting for Minnie to find her way all the way to the uncertain but ultimately optimistic conclusion.

One and Done (Frederick Smith, 2024) - okay, so. this is a romance novel that I picked up because I saw a review talking about how it's an incredibly realistic depiction of working at a university. now that's obviously an insane thing to look for in a romance novel, but I like romances, ESPECIALLY gay romances, and I work at a university, so I figured sure, I'll bite. spoiler alert: it's not great. I posted some examples of the prose here, and even if the two protagonists talked like actual human beings it wouldn't make up for the stale-ass plot or devastating lack of chemistry they have going for them. more like One and Glad to Be Done With This Book That Isn't Very Good, am I right, ladies?

Seduced (Virginia Henley, 1994) - guys, I'm gonna be so fucking real with you. this is the most batshit novel I've ever read, period, let alone the most batshit romance novel. this book was the winner of a poll I ran on patreon last month in which my wicked patreonites got to nominate romance novels of their choosing for my next reading project and voted amongst themselves to crown a winner, and against all odds and my own light attempts to sway the voters, Seduced won it all. this book has everything: a historical setting, a bold young lady disguising herself as her own brother, wildly unchecked orientalism, a murderous cousin, high society scandal, and some of the most torturous sex scenes I've ever encountered in my life. truly this write-up cannot do justice to what I have experienced; I've already promised by patreonites that I'll have to do a little youtube live in order to fully express the extent of my dissatisfaction.

and that was the month of August, babey!!!

#bookblr

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tenaciousbouquetearthquake · 1 month

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Shall I tell you how many Nazis I killed today?, pt1

I originally posted this on ao3, but I'm posting here just to see what happens and because I haven't been on tumblr in like three years since my last fandom got too toxic to stay in and I have no idea who's on here anymore/what people are into. Except Destial because apparently that's trending and I completely support that. XD

Read it on ao3 / Check out the story’s masterlist

You're a medic on the Maid Honor during the mission to rescue Appleyard. You and Anders *may* have developed a bit reputation in the short time you've been together. The guys are 100% done with accidentally walking in on the two of you. Contains some mild smut.

Every time Anders Lassen smiles, it does things to you. In fact, it does a lot of things to you, although whether it makes you go cold with fear or hot with excitement depends entirely on if he has a weapon in his hands and is covered in blood or not.

It’s better when he’s covered in Nazi blood and has a weapon in his hands. That’s when you know that Anders is doing well—he comes back from a mission with a nary a scratch, a quiver without any arrows left, a thoroughly used blade, and covered in a truly disturbing amount of blood…but he’ll be smiling, a particular smile meant only for you as he walks in your space on the boat and leans idly against the wall.

The sight of him is always a bit of a shock when you glance up from where you’ve been surveying your medical supplies. He’s too big for this space, always, and it’s not just his physical size. Anders Lassen is too big a personality, too strong a presence, for any room to contain. “I return to you victorious, min skat ,” Anders says in that low, soft voice of his, arms crossed in a way that showcases the well-developed muscles in his arms. He does it on purpose, knowing the way your eyes are drawn to them each time, a subtle form of preening meant just for you. “Shall I tell you how many Nazis I killed today?”

Your eyes stray slowly from those muscular arms to the broad width of his shoulders, moving gradually toward his tanned face as one side of his lips quirk up into a hint of a smirk. You try not to notice it, and when that doesn’t work, you try not to let it affect you—even though it does. God , how it does. “Oh? Are you keeping count now?” You continue to pat your hands dry with the cloth you’re using, having just reassessed all the medical supplies you brought with you on the boat. “When did you have the time to do that? I thought this was a rescue mission, after all.”

His smirk grows a little bigger as he watches you, humming a low sound before he pushes off from the wall and takes a rather large, predatory step toward you. “Yes, but…that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun, does it?” He takes another step, his smirk altering into the hint of a grin when he sees you twitch ever so slightly in response, as if you’re preparing to run. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, Y/N?” Another step, his intense gaze focused entirely on you as you force yourself to stand still—although this is as much prey behavior as running away would be. “I only want to have a little fun with you.” Another step, and this time he’s so close that he does force you backward, pressing your body against the wall as Anders towers over you. If he wasn’t already predatory enough, he leans forward and rests his palms on either side of your face, his heavy arms pinning you in place as he invades your personal space. “Do you not like to have fun, min skat?”

It's hard to concentrate with him so close, even when he’s not looking his best, and Anders Lassen covered in blood after what was probably a massacre isn’t exactly your favorite look on him. You find yourself licking your lips softly, teeth scraping over the bottom lip, and force yourself to take a deep breath as you look up at him, trying to buy yourself a few extra seconds before you respond. “I like to have fun,” you reply, surprised that you’ve managed to keep your voice steady. “At appropriate times and in appropriate places.” You silently cringe when you say it, simultaneously aware that you’re the team medic and that Appleyard is going to require your attention, and Lassen’s body is so very, very close to your own.

Anders feigns being hurt, looking crestfallen at the rejection, still pressing into your space, and with each passing second you grow intensely more aware of other details—the blood soaked into the collar of his shirt, the faint beating of his pulse on his neck, the shallow cut above his eyebrow.

The sheer weight of his body in front of you, the heat of him. Heavy and oppressive and so fucking hot that your body instinctively clenches in response, every inch of your skin aware of his presence. He tilts his head forward, nearly resting it against your forehead as his eyes close and he takes a deep breath to breathe in the scent of you. Then those chocolate brown eyes open again and his gaze fixes on you, and it’s all you can do to remind yourself to breathe.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play with me, Y/N?” Anders says, his voice low enough that the words are meant only for you, and the sound of that voice just makes it all worse. “I even brought you a present.” His body presses against yours a little more now, letting you feel the hard lines of him against you. “A Nazi heart. I cut it out myself. I thought I might give it to you as a token of affection.”

“Yo—” you stumble over the words, pausing to clear your throat and breathe before you continue. Anders looks at you with a mixture of amusement and pure male satisfaction. “You brought me a Nazi heart?”

Anders hums for a moment, tilting his head as if in consideration. “Yes,” he says with a sigh and a small shake of his head. “But now that I’m here, I think I might give you mine instead.” He adjusts his weight above you as he moves one of his hands from beside your head, his bloody hand coming to cup your chin, tilting your head back for him as he leans in ever closer, his thumb tracing small circles near your mouth. “Ja, I like that idea much better.”

If Anders is the predator and you’re the prey, then Lord help you. You’re about to be devoured and not even care. In fact, you silently welcome it as he claims your lips with his own, chapped with the midday heat but delicious as hell as your lips part for him and his body presses fully against yours and you can feel yourself melt under the hard ridges of him, gentle but demanding and growing even more intense when he feels you respond. There are a thousand reasons why you shouldn’t have come on this mission—the violence, the danger, the lack of combat training.

The fact that every time you and Lassen come within ten feet of each other, you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other.

You don’t even notice when Anders moves his other hand and it comes to rest at your waist, or when it begins to hike up underneath your shirt, the heat of his palm trailing over your bare midriff as your body instinctively arches into his touch. You’re not even aware of how far this interaction between the two of you has gone until you faintly hear Freddy groaning from across the room, accompanied just as enthusiastically by Gus.

“Bloody hell, not again.” Freddy’s voice is all exasperation, as if he’s witnessed this scene far too often and isn’t in a hurry to see it again. “We leave you two alone for five minutes and you’re already trying to tear her clothes off. Can’t you at least wait until after the mission is over?”

Anders pulls back from you, just a little, and lets out a low growl at the interruption. You’d probably be amused, if you weren’t still feeling drunk on the kiss—and the feeling of Anders’s hands on you. “I was simply reporting back to the medic for a check-up,” Anders says with ease, the muscles in his arms visibly tensing as he forces himself to take a step back from you.

“Listen, Lassen,” Gus says, escorting in an injured Appleyard, who appears just as put off by this scene as the rest of them. “I understand that the two of you are—” Gus pauses, reaching up to scratch at his beard awkwardly as he glances between you and Anders and you move to adjust your clothes back to normal, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Well, the two of you. But given the circumstances—”

“What circumstances?” Anders asks innocently, as if he hadn’t just been caught feeling you up and firmly about to try and fuck you against the wall.

“You just cut a man’s heart out,” Freddy declares in response, gesturing toward Anders as he helps Appleyard further into the room. “You’re still covered in his blood!”

“Oh?” Anders glances down at himself and acts surprised before he shrugs and looks back at them. “It’s just a little dirt,” he says. “These Nazis, they don’t keep their camps very clean, do they?”

Gus lets out a heavy sigh as he and Freddy help Appleyard move past you and Anders towards one of the beds, although Freddy does shake his head at Anders. “There’s something seriously wrong with you, chap,” he tells Anders.

Anders takes the comment in stride. “Ja, I know,” he says. “Why do you think I came to the sick bay?”

At night is when you see the other side of him, the other smiles that make your blood run cold with a kind of fear that you didn’t even know you could experience. Nighttime at sea can be nearly pitch-black and it never stops being disorienting when you wake to a gently rocking boat and the sound of waves outside, but none of the usual sounds of life. There are no crickets chirping gently outside, no distant voices of people coming or going in the next apartment, or the sounds of war in the background.

No bombs dropping from overhead, the impact of it rocking the ground in a hard concussion that knocks your feet out from you and the air from your lungs. At home, you’d spend these hours crouched under a table, knees to your chest, listening to the building around you shake and feeling yourself go quietly numb in self-preservation until the onslaught was over. It would be minutes, sometimes hours, before you felt yourself slip from that mental retreat, the sounds of someone crying in the next apartment and the smell of smoke slowly bleeding into your consciousness. At sea, there are none of these things.

At sea, you’d think there wasn’t a war on at all.

But wars are not only made up of physical confrontations, and a family you loved desperately isn’t the only kind of casualty.

Anders isn’t in bed. It’s the first full thought that you have when you come fully awake, the blanket still tucked in neatly around you as you cradle his pillow to your chest, surrounded entirely by the scent of Anders Lassen—a mixture of soap, sweat, and something woodsy and distinctly him , as if part of him really was wild, a beast made man. You shove the pillow away and push yourself up in the bunk, looking around for him in the dark and not finding him. It’s disconcerting enough to wake up at sea, but to wake up without Lassen—that’s something else entirely. You’re unsettled as you shove the blankets aside and quietly tiptoe out of the bunk, finger combing your hair back from your face and feeling around for Anders’s spare coat. It takes a little effort to get past the other bunks without disturbing them, even as Freddy, who’s supposed to be on watch, snores loudly enough to wake them all.

You find Anders above deck, his form visible in the moonlight as he handles some of the spare rope, winding and unwinding it around his arm as if in ritual, the movements slow and precise. You can see the moment he realizes that you’re there, the subtle pause, the slight tilt of his head as if he can hear you. Then he keeps going, silently working the rope as you cross the deck to him, shaking his head the closer you get and clicking his tongue. “ Tsk, tsk, tsk . Shouldn’t you be sleeping, elskede? Safe in your bed.” He heaves a dramatic sigh as you come next to him, aware now of his bare chest in the moonlight, the subtle curves of his body as he glances at you. “It’s dangerous to be above deck, all alone, in the middle of the night.”

You pull his coat closed around you and stare at him for a long moment in feigned consideration, tiptoeing around him silently and feeling his gaze on you with every step you take. “Is it, though? It seems rather quiet up here to me. A bit boring, really.” You move around him in a slow circle, appearing as if the two of you have changed places and you’re now the predator while Anders is the prey. “Frankly, I think a little danger would be exciting.”

“You would like some danger?” Anders sounds intrigued as he watches you silently pace around him, your movements slow and relaxed. “You’re not happy with the peace and quiet?”

You shrug, glancing at him, giving him your best unconcerned look. “I like peace and quiet just fine,” you say, sounding bored, pacing softly around him. He doesn’t turn to follow you as you loop behind him, but you can tell from the tension in his shoulders and his back, and the way his head angles in your direction, that he’s aware of your every move. “It’s just that sometimes, when it gets too quiet, I have this irresistible urge to…” You deliberately let your words trail off as you pace behind him, coming out the other side and to the front of him again, still only faintly glancing at him.

You can hear the curiosity and interest as Anders gladly takes the bait, prompting you for more. “You get an urge to what?”

You sigh as if it can’t be helped, moving again, his gaze now firmly following you as you move. “I have this irresistible urge to find a tall, incredibly handsome Danish man and have my wicked ways with him.”

Anders has a small grin when he responds, his voice filled with humor. His gaze only leaves you in the brief moments when you cross behind him to come back out the other side. “So, you want to have your wicked ways with a tall, handsome Danish man.”

You hum in acknowledgement before adding, “Ravish him completely.” You slowly pace in front of him again, although now you decide to play with him a little, pulling the front of his coat open enough to show him a hint of your curves beneath your shirt, letting your hips sway enough to draw his gaze slowly downward.

“I never knew you were interested in such things.” There’s still humor in his voice, but now there’s something else, too—something dark and hungry. “Tell me, what exactly would you do to ravish this man?”

You’re moving to cross behind him again. You can see the muscles in his back and arms growing more taut and when you’re near enough to his side and his head is craning to follow your steps, you give in to the need to reach out and touch him, a gentle ghosting of your fingertips over his arm and trailing softly over his the tight muscles of his back. You hear his breath catch for a fraction of a second as your hand moves lower, skimming softly enough over that one spot where he’s particularly sensitive that it’s more the shifting of the air near his skin, more the anticipation of touch, than anything else. “I think,” you drawl, keeping your touch low on his body as you cross around his other side to the front again. “The first thing I would do is to make him sit for me.” You’re slower now as you move in front of him, your touch against his skin becoming a little more greedy as your hand skims against his waist, the first real skin on skin contact you’ve made. “I’d probably tie him to a chair, make sure that he’s completely helpless for me so that I can touch him however I want to.”

Anders’s lips twitch at the idea of him being completely helpless, but you can see the look in his eyes clearly enough, even in the dark above deck. Wolfish. Hungry. Alert. You drag an open palm over his stomach, letting your hand slip gently under the waistband of his trousers, feeling him clench at that first initial touch before his body relaxes into the touch. “And how,” Anders prompts when you don’t immediately continue, his voice heavy with lust, “would you want to touch him?”

You’re passing around him again, but you’ve been moving in smaller and smaller circles with each new pass, now so close to him that you let the sleeve of your coat brush his arm, your hand never leaving his body. He doesn’t turn his head to track your movements now, barely even moving at all, seemingly content to just let you touch him. You lick at lips that are suddenly dry, the air between the two of you so warm that the coat is suddenly hot, too hot . “First, I would run my hands over his body and feel every inch of him.” You can hear the change in your own voice at your arousal, your skin too sensitive as your nipples pebble against your shirt, heat pooling between your thighs. “I’d follow all the cords of his muscle,” you tell him, letting your palm follow the lines and cords of his body underneath it, feeling his body tense and hot as he forces himself to take slow, steady breaths. “And I'd find all the places where he’s sensitive,” you pause and deliberately ghost your fingers over that spot on his back, near his left hip, hearing his breath hitch as he stands deathly still for you, “and all the ways I can touch him to make him shiver.” Anders is still, so very still, as you move around him now. “And when I've decided that he’s ready…” You're around his front, circling around him again. “And he can't take me touching him anymore…” You pause behind him, leaning your body flush against his back so he can feel the shape of you through his coat, and standing on your toes to lean close to his neck. You let your nose brush against him before gently licking a hot stripe on his neck near his ear. “ I would use my mouth instead .”

Anders trembles–all six feet of him, the bear of a man, the Danish hammer, practically a modern day viking–fucking trembles at you whispering in his ear and the feel of your tongue on his skin, your breath hot. So fucking hot that you're burning up in the coat, that Anders’s body is a giant furnace, that the night air is like ice against your face but you're not aware of it because your body is on fire with need. You swallow against your own desire, your own need to stop teasing him and just let Anders take you right there, and instead press one kiss, then another, on his neck. You nuzzle there for a long moment before moving onto his shoulder and letting your teeth scrape over him in a small, sucking kiss. He’s so tense underneath you, so taut that you'd think he might snap, but god– god –how you want him to snap.

To lose all his control…to be the one to make him lose control. You could get drunk on that power alone.

You rest your body against his back, angled enough to his side that you can reach around him and slip a hand into the band of his trousers. Anders practically growls as your hand explores the vee of his chest, moving gently over his hip, teasing slowly toward his cock. He’s already hard when you touch him, the first hint of your fingers on his cock making him audibly pant as you tease near the base. “I would make him wait a very long time,” you say against his shoulder, letting the hot wet of your breath settle there, “before I open his trousers and touch his cock like this.” You stroke over the hard length of him, straining against the material of his pants, teasing your fingers over the tip as you feel his body practically vibrating against you. “But when I do…” You ease your hand around him, drawing it back up the shaft as you hear him bite back a moan. “I'd take him in my mouth…” Another long stroke upward. His back is straight against your chest and you'd swear you could feel his heart pounding as you touch him. “And I’d taste him as long as I want to…” You pause to let him feel your tongue against his skin again, tasting sweat and the salt of the sea air on him, drawing the moment out to let him imagine your tongue on his cock. “And I wouldn't let him cum until he begged me for it.”

You're about to continue the torture, to stroke your hand down the underside of his cock, teasing his balls softly before stroking downward, when you're surprised a hand gripping your wrist. You almost jump in surprise at the sudden contact, the break in the scene, the strength of his hand around your wrist as he keeps you in an unforgiving hold. You glance up at Anders to see his jaw hard and his nostrils flared as he swallows and tries to maintain his control. “It's not nice to tease, min skat.” His voice is a growl, eyes closed tightly. Seconds from breaking.

“You tease me all the time,” you reply, letting him feel you smirk against his shoulder. “My turn is long overdue. Don't you think?”

Anders doesn't let go of your hand and for a brief moment, you think that he's not going to let you continue, but when he doesn't move you away from him, either, you decide to try again. You move carefully to his front, meeting his dark gaze and holding it as you slowly put a hand to his chest and begin to push him back. Anders doesn't fight you, letting you direct his heavy body back slowly, one small step at a time, his hand never leaving your wrist and your hand never leaving his chest. It's like a dance, the two of you moving with a slow precision until the back of his legs meet a trunk of supplies and you stop pushing him. The two of you stand still, gazing at each other, as you wait to see what happens next, if Anders will let this little scene continue or not.

His thumb begins to move gently against your wrist, circling your pulse point. “No ropes, elskede,” Anders says, his voice barely audible. “No restraints.”

There’s silence between you two for what feels like an eternity, even though it must only be a few minutes. Waves rock the boat gently, a soft breeze caresses overheated skin. A look, an understanding, passes between you and Anders. Because restraints aren’t safe above the deck, when he’s meant to be keeping watch—to be keeping you safe.

Because you don’t know the whole story, but just as you have your demons, Anders has his, too.

You bite your bottom lip and shrug. “I don’t need to tie you up to have you at my mercy.”

A quirk of his lips, slipping into a smirk. You can see the way the humor and warmth reaches his eyes, even in the darkness. His grip on your wrist tightens imperceptibly, his thumb pausing on your pulse, on the very beating of your heart—a heart that belongs entirely to him. The water sounds like the blood rushing in your ears, quiet and deafening all at once. “Ja,” he agrees then. “That is true.”

Reluctantly, Anders lets go of your wrist.

Reluctantly, you pull your hand from his pants, but it’s only a temporary retreat. Anders doesn’t resist, not even a little, when you gently push him backwards and he sits down on the trunk, his back rigid as he gazes at you. He waits patiently, watching you with an intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat through your body where you’re standing in front of him, moving to undo his pants. You pull his cock free, watching his lips part as he exhales a moan at the touch of your hand and the cool night air. His body responds without any conscious thought as you grip him tightly and begin to move your hand up and down, stroking his cock with long, even motions that leave him nearly panting.

You’re about to get on your knees when Anders breaks the scene once more, taking hold of your shoulder, although his grip is less firm this time. “No.”

Your eyebrows go up as you pause, your body frozen. “No?” You half wonder what you’ve done wrong, if there’s some unknown line that you’ve somehow crossed, but Anders shakes his head with a small smile, something surprisingly soft and tender, given the circumstances.

“I want you.”

God. God above . Have there ever been three more beautiful words in the English language? Have there ever been three more perfect words, more exciting or fulfilling words, than those?

You don’t think so. How could anything else possibly compare to the sound of Anders Lassen saying that he wants you?

“I thought I was in charge.” Not that you’ll complain, not really. Being with Anders is being with Anders, no matter what form it takes.

Then Anders says something even more surprising, even more beautiful or enticing. “Please, Y/N. Let me have you.”

Please . Let me have you .

You’re too stunned to respond immediately, and just when you’re about to recover, just when you’re about to try and rewrite this little script you’d figured out in your head when you woke up without Anders in your bed and found him restlessly adjusting the ropes above deck, Anders continues being Anders…perfect, beautiful, strong, and knows how to play you like a fucking violin, Anders Lassen. “Have pity on a poor, weak Danish man like myself,” he says, mouth turning up into that smartass grin of his, the one you’re never certain if you want to kiss or slap off of him. “ Ravish me .”

You try, really fucking try , not to laugh at the ridiculousness of your own words. Of the whole scenario, really. Poor, weak Anders Lassen. Conquered by you . At your mercy. Being ravished on the deck of a boat with four other men on board, sleeping, while you travel to a Nazi infested destination on a mission to save England and…and…

Well. “I suppose,” you begin, drawing the words out, making a show of pretending to consider his request, “you did beg for mercy.” You watch as Anders nods enthusiastically.

“Ja, yes. Mercy.”

“And what kind of person would I be if I ignored such heartfelt pleas as those?” You move to shrug out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor and leaving you in only the big nightshirt you’d worn to bed earlier.

“Not a very good one,” Anders answers you. His hands come to rest on your thighs, just above the knees, but as with all things with Anders, nothing is ever static for very long. He’s feeling up the length of your thighs before you’re even positioned where you want to be, cupping the curves of your ass with his big palms and finding the edges of your panties. “Not a very good one at all.”

“And you do owe me for that little scene you made earlier.” You nearly jump when you feel Anders’s hands slipping under the sides of your panties and beginning to tug them down. “When you knew the others were coming and still pinned me to the wall.”

“ Oh .” It sounds like a moan when Anders makes the sound, letting your panties fall to the floor and gently nudging your legs apart. “Yes. That was very bad of me.” You gasp when you feel his big, warm hand between your thighs, cupping your cunt with a possessiveness that’s impossible to ignore. “I should’ve finished what I started instead of making you wait for me to take you.” He strokes over you softly, petting your folds in an easy move that leaves you leaning forward against him as he plays with your cunt. “I definitely deserve to be punished for that one.” He explores your slit for a long moment, burying a finger inside of you as your hands close tightly over his shoulders and you lean into his neck, his mouth at your ear now. “Would you like to punish me, Y/N?” He nips at the shell of your ear as he moves to stroke wet fingers over your clit and your mouth opens to moan but no sound comes out. “Would you like to make me finish what I started earlier and have me fuck you right here, for anyone to see?”

It’s a twist. Suddenly, Anders is in control again, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he’s touching you like that. Not when his voice is that deep and low in your ear. Not when he’s saying what he’s saying.

“ Should I make you scream so the others can hear us? ”

In the end, it’s easy— far too easy —for Anders to make you come undone. His finger on your clit, his voice in your ear, one hand slipping under your nightshirt and trailing up your chest, to the underside of your breast, skimming over a sensitive nipple, hot to the touch and too cold from the breeze. A complete sensory overload that’s unyielding and all-consuming.

“ You’re so wet for me, allerkæreste. ”

It’s harder and harder to concentrate. Too much—it’s just far too much. You’re sinking against Anders, as if you were two halves of one being, as if your body just realized that you’ve always belonged there and it never wants to be parted from him again. His hand cups your breast, squeezes, teasing the nipple. He plays with your clit, merciless in his touch. Your fingers dig into his shoulders.

Anders doesn’t fucking care.

He never does.

“ Do you know how badly I want you right now? ” His nose nuzzles against your face, his eyelashes tickling your cheek. Your body becomes liquid. “ Du betyder så meget for mig .”

You don’t scream when you cum. You barely make any noise at all. As much as Anders likes to tease you, he knows you’re not that comfortable with the others knowing—and hearing—so much of your private time together. But you do practically fall into his lap, your legs trembling and too unsteady to keep yourself upright. You do look up at Anders to see him gazing down at you with that smartass grin of his, looking for all the world like the cat that ate the canary, like he just said some ultimate truth that you’re not privy to because you don’t speak Danish and this little game that you started no longer belongs to you.

Which, to be completely fair, is true. Whatever Anders said, you’ll never know—you don’t speak Danish and he doesn’t give you the chance to ask before he’s nudging you onto his lap, opening your legs to straddle his waist. By the time he’s tugging at your nightshirt and you’re pulling it over your head to discard alongside the rest of your clothes, the question of whatever he said is so far from your mind that if you ever try to bring it up again, Anders will probably just feign ignorance.

And you may have started this game between you, but it belongs to Anders as his hands move over your now naked body, covered in goosebumps from the cool air and arousal. In fact, you have no chance whatsoever to recover the game as his big hands close around your hips and he helps you adjust on his lap, angling yourself into the right position above his cock so that inch by delicious inch, you can sink down onto him. In the haze of pleasure that quickly envelopes you, one thing is absolutely clear.

You belong to Anders Lassen, body and soul. Whatever becomes of you two on this ridiculous mission, in this impossible war, in a life that’s sure to be filled with heartbreak, Anders will always be your true north. Nothing will ever change that.

“ Fuck .” It’s a guttural moan of a word that’s so uncharacteristic for Anders that you can’t help but laugh, burying your face in his neck and stroking his chest with your hands. “Are you laughing at me?” Anders tries to sound threatening, but in the context of the moment, it drags another round of laughter from you as you shake your head. “You shouldn’t laugh at the Danish Hammer, you know. It’s not a wis—”

You can’t help yourself, cutting his words off with a kiss and holding onto his shoulders for dear life as you start to move against him, grinding your hips against his and sliding your body to fill yourself up with his cock again, and again, and again . It’s everything, that feeling of him inside of you. His hands on your hips as you rock against him. Your hands as you move to cup his face and stop the kiss so that you can look at him, just look at him as you take him there, on the deck, in the darkness.

You may not understand Danish, but you know that look. The one that’s reserved only for you, that says everything necessary without Anders having to utter a single word.

He can own the game. He can have whatever he wants. Anything—and you’ll gladly give it.

But a perfect moment, by definition, can only last for a moment. Eventually, it has to end. You feel your body clenching around him, your toes curling, and Anders can tell how close you are. When your movements start to slow, the rhythm of your bodies moving with each other starts to slip, his hands grip your hips more tightly and those bulky arms of his start to pick up the slack, pushing you effortlessly closer and closer to the edge. You’re vaguely aware of someone panting, of soft moans and whimpers that sound like you. Your forehead falls against Anders’s and your eyes drift closed, and just as the climax starts to hit you, just as your mouth is falling open with what would surely be an embarrassingly loud noise that would reach down into the cabin where the others are sleeping, Anders kisses you and drowns out the sound.

Although you doubt anything could’ve silenced the noise he makes when he cums inside you. The two of you are going to hear about this endlessly tomorrow.

Which is just fine with you, because tomorrow is not tonight, and tonight, you can wrap your arms around Anders’s neck and settle into his lap with his coat around you while the two of you keep watch. You’re leaning against his chest and half watching the night sky, trying not to feel the tug of sleep as you look back at him. There’s been something about Anders today, something that’s been bothering him. You could tell when he came back to the boat earlier.

You could see it when you came above deck.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” The question is greeted only by the night air and the crest of waves against the side of the boat. Anders stills when he hears it, but he doesn’t reply, choosing instead to close his coat around you more tightly and pull your body closer to his. He shakes his head and glances down at you from the corner of his eyes.

“It’s time to sleep, min skat.” His lips quirk up into that smirk. God, how you love that smirk. “I know that you’re tired.”

You are tired. Your eyes are heavy. You were exhausted by the time you climbed into bed with Anders earlier and you fell into an easy sleep beside him within minutes, disturbed only by sensing that he was no longer beside you. Whatever energy you’d managed to recover is completely spent after what just happened.

“Did you really cut a man’s heart out?” The question is out before you can stop it, impossibly small against the great weight of the sea and the war and the heaviness you recognize in Anders’s shoulders, as if the entire world were resting there. The smirk disappears so quickly as Anders’s face darkens that you’d almost wonder if it had ever been there at all, if a man filled with the sort of torment and pain you see then could be capable of such a light expression.

It feels like hours before he finally responds, barely loud enough to be heard over the water. “Yes.”

You reach up and stroke your knuckles over his cheek, your thumb on his chin. “Why would you do that?”

There’s no answer, just a smile so grim that it chills you to the bone, a new sense of fear so deep in your soul that you can’t even put words to it. That you’re not ready to think about or acknowledge at all. Then the smile slips and Anders just looks tired, so fucking tired.

You fall asleep in his arms, listening to the sound of the waves, the creaking of wood as the boat rocks gently, the steady sound of Anders breathing. He doesn’t answer you. You don’t demand an answer.

Maybe some questions just don’t have any answers.

Sometime in the night, however, Anders does look down at you and whisper to your sleeping form. “ Du giver mig lyst til at være en bedre mand .” But even if you could hear it, you don’t speak Danish, and Anders isn’t ready to say the words in English.

He’s not sure if he ever will be.

#anders lassen #anders lassen x reader #the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare #alan ritchson #gus march phillips #geoffrey appleyard #henry cavill #alex pettyfer #freddy alvarez #henry golding #fanfiction #imagine #smut #alan ritchson imagine #anders lassen imagine

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wing-ed-thing · 8 months

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Smoker Relationship Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns

𓆃 For how tight-laced and no nonsense he can be, Smoker isn't a terrible partner in the slightest. While he brings some of his stern nature into a relationship, you'll find that he's extremely loyal and surprisingly soft and attentive.

𓆃 Putting it plainly, when it comes to relationships, Smoker has been there and done that. He knows the role he's meant to play in your chosen dynamic. And that being said, he knows exactly what he wants and doesn't waste any time playing games.

𓆃 While early inklings of catching feelings might throw him off a bit (especially if you've been close friends or colleagues), there's little else that keeps him from being direct and politely asking you out forthright.

𓆃 Smoker is rather untraditionally orthodox in the sense that he prefers the traditional song and dance of taking you to dinner, but bringing flowers didn't even cross his mind. He'll hold the door, but couldn't give a damn about which side of the road you walk on. And if you ask if he intends to split your bill he'll look at you like you're crazy.

𓆃 And there's almost no way to predict Smoker's picking and choosing in terms of his relationship expectations, which mostly comes from him thinking things and then not telling you because he thought them so you must automatically know.

𓆃 You'll find that you often have to roll with random things popping up in your mutual schedule at the last minute because how could Smoker not tell you he's been dispatched for the next two weeks?

𓆃 And his reaction is always the same. He'll crinkle his forehead and squint his eyes while the words "I thought I told you 'bout that" pass around his cigar.

𓆃 Smoker often sails for a period of time and then comes back home to where he's stationed. You can almost always count of this revolving schedule, although if yours is remotely similar, it's rare that your schedules line up.

𓆃 Whenever he travels, Smoker always brings back a little gift from whatever island he's just been to, and you've even found that you can request just about whatever your heart desires and Smoker will find a way to get it.

𓆃 Although, he doesn't understand a thing about trends, so requesting a popular item will be met with a grumpy, begrudging attitude.

𓆃 "Why do you want a stupid little trinket? You're not gonna ask for, ah, I dunno jewelry or somethin'?" "I'm not buyin' you a Soul King vinyl. You know that guy's a wanted criminal right?"

𓆃 For all his complaining, Smoker will come home with a necklace and the vinyl (he sent one of his men to buy one incognito).

𓆃 And he complains a lot and you'll find that he can have quite the attitude. After the third time you've mentioned how much you want take-away Smoker is going to put his jacket on and get it, but he's going to be mumbling and grumbling the whole time.

𓆃 That goes for just about anything you want on a whim. Whether you want something sweet in the middle of the night or you walked past something really nice at the market and now you're lamenting over whether you should have bought it.

𓆃 And every time Smoker is getting out of bed to get you ice cream or turning you both around so you— or more likely he— can buy you that item you were so infatuated with.

𓆃 But for every ounce of attitude he gives, it's within reason and expectation that you give it right back to him. Smoker will never say he likes when you're a bit sassy, but he's very clearly amused by banter.

𓆃 Landing a clever clap-back on him simply makes him smile. The smile is usually accompanied by an eyeroll and the shake of his head, but you can tell he loves when you get a little feisty.

𓆃 In the same vein, Smoker easily gets suckered by a bit of pouting here and there because for being rigid and grumpy, he would do anything short of breaking the law for you.

𓆃 If you're someone looking for something serious and long-term, look no further because Smoker is on board with settling down. Once you're in a relationship, there's very little that would keep him from being anything but dedicated to you.

𓆃 Oh, except piracy.

𓆃 Yeah, piracy would likely get in the way of that.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#smoker x reader #one piece x reader #smoker #one piece smoker #vice admiral smoker x reader #captain smoker x reader #x reader #reader insert #smoker headcanons #smoker headcanon #one piece reader insert #x you #white chase smoker x reader #white chase smoker #op x reader #op headcanons #op headcanon #op smoker

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allimocha · 8 months

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AlliMocha Fancuries FYC Post!

Hi Hello, Pip Pip Cheerio! Fancuries is here once again! And boy do I have something to share this FYC post.

So, I haven’t worked on Bittersweet X Daydream in a hot minute if I'm gonna be honest. A lot of other obligations have been taking time away from my main fanseries sadly. BUT I do have one new thing to show you guys regarding it.

…

Hear me out.

A redesign.

I KNoW I know I said no more redesigns, but after having these characters for so long, it's only natural that I'd want to change how they look. Specifically, there is only one character that I've redesigned so far anyway…

Lei Sandiego / Cure Spice

“𝘔𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘺, 𝘎𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘢! 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘦!”

Age: 16 (Second year/Sophomore)

Birthday: September 18th

Height: 5’6”

Ethnicity: Hispanic American

Cure color: Blue and Scarlet

Essence: Charismatic

Often referred to as “The school beauty”, Lei is admired by almost all of her peers. Her amazing charisma, along with her intimidatingly cool and beautiful looks immediately captures everyone’s attention. But despite this, she’s really just a big fashion geek. She prides herself in her impeccable style savvy-ness and studies the latest trends all the time. Lei is also a very confident person, sometimes to the point that it can be overbearing, but she’s never arrogant and always means well. She’s a hopeless romantic and is constantly trying to look for someone who likes her beneath her looks. Although she’s fashion-centric she’s also very athletic, being the co-captain of the girls' volleyball team, and so devotes time to doing both hobbies.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

That's not all, however, because I also have a new series that I've been working on. A crossover series if you will. Based on one of my favorite Disney movies of all time:

Sugar Rush! Precure

A group of girls go to the arcade after school every day to hangout. They excel at most of the consoles there, notably the racing games. One day, Vanelope finds a weird token like she had never seen before, as it was engraved with intricate patterns and a shiny gold. When she attempts to use it in a racing game, it flashes in the machine and floats out as another trinket (henshin item). At that moment, a mysterious person is creating havoc outside the arcade, clearly looking for something. He spots the trinket in Vanelope’s hand, and we all know what happens from here.

Yep! Cures based on the sugar rush racers from Wreck-It Ralph! So far, I only have 2 of their designs, but I'm still completely in love with where this is going. Speaking of which, lets show those two off!

Vanelope Von Schmitt / Cure Sweets

Age: 16

A very confident girl, Vanelope is definetly the ray of sunshine that brightens anyone’s day. She’s very friendly, but is also not afraid to tell it like she sees it. She also has a habit of being overly sarcastic or jokey, which can come off as annoying to others. Not really good at school and overly clumsy, so sometimes covers her negative emotions with jokes or sarcasm. Adores arcades and always states it’s her home away from home.

Tabitha Mathews / Cure Taffy

Age: 16

Very rich and spoiled and it definetly shows. She can be cocky and overbearing at times, but she’s got a good heart. One of the more popular girls in their school, and accells in all her extracurriculars. Due to her father being principal, people have rumored that all her grades were boosted due to nepotism, but that’s not true. She works hard to get where she is, and while vain and sometimes a little rude, she isn’t afraid to help others in need. Goes to the arcade to get away at times.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

So that’s all I’ve been working on so far! I can’t really say I’ve done much with my fanseries over the years, but hopefully you all like what I do have!

Byieeee~!

#art #black artist #precure #precure fanseries #pretty cure fanseries #fancuries fyc #fancure

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dysfunctionalupsidedown · 2 months

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Mike Wheeler: Trauma, Insecurity, and "STurn" (Analysis)

In "From the Hair Chair: Finn Wolfhard | Stranger Things", which is available on the official Stranger Things YouTube channel, Finn Wolfhard addresses the question, "What's going on with Mike Wheeler in Season 4?"

Mike Wheeler’s behavior in S4 has confused many, especially general audiences. However, if you look at the bigger picture, his progression (or regression) into the Mike Wheeler we know from S4 does make sense. To get a clear idea of what’s going on with him, we must look at the four seasons sequentially and with a more subtextual eye. We have a few physical puzzle pieces, and for now, we need to fill in the rest with our imagination based on evidence. A Mike point of view isn’t particularly needed to fully understand this, although it would be helpful for the GA and is something I want from S5.

In relation to this particular interview, I’ll examine Stranger Things (2016) for the past and present and “STurn” for the possible future. “STurn” actually does tell us a bit about how Mike’s self-identity arc will potentially continue in S5 and wrap up.

Also, I understand that “STurn” isn’t factual and is not even confirmed to be related to ST5. Though I don’t believe this entire analysis is instantly negated by my use of the playlist, as its only purpose here is to assume a hypothetical future. Aside from the Finn interview, everything else comes straight from the show and holds a reasonable explanation for Mike’s behavior up until the end of S4.

Remember, this post is for fun and speculation, and "STurn" is the best we have right now. Just keep in mind that I’m going into this analysis assuming it’s related to Mike Wheeler in S5. I could be entirely incorrect. Similarly, this interview isn’t wholly factual either, as it’s not what’s in the show, but it relates enough to what we’ve been shown of Mike for me to comment on.

This might be a lengthier post. Be warned.

If you’re still here and interested, I’ll get right into it.

Trauma

Finn first addresses how each of the characters are dealing with their past trauma, and that is a perfect way to describe Mike’s behavior in S4. I think a lot of people, especially the general audience, forget that, yes, while these are all characters, trauma does have the ability to affect them and change their behavior. There was an entire “Your original character before trauma vs. after trauma” trend on TikTok a minute back, and that wasn’t for nothing.

Mike, just in S1, witnessed one of his best friends go missing, watched this best friend turn up apparently dead (as well as see his “body”), went to his funeral, jumped off of a ledge, saw his other newfound friend disappear, and so much more. Don't even get me started on the following seasons.

Mike is afraid of losing. That’s what happened to him in S1. He lost. First Will, then El.

His fear of loss and determination to keep things in his life are significant parts of his character and have been since S1. That’s why he was so intent on finding Will. That's why he checked his walkie for El every night. That’s why he acts out in S3-S4. This isn’t an excuse for his behavior, but an explanation. It’s part of his trauma, and we see this in S4 with his fear of losing Will and El again: “Maybe I feel like I lost you or something,” and “I can't lose you,” respectively. I theorize that he fears being out of control regarding these things.

A lack of control also explains why he was so volatile to Will and El during and after Rink-O-Mania. For Will, Mike addresses this directly to him when he apologizes. It’s made evident to the audience that he acted cold in part because he thought Will was slipping away, but truthfully, he wasn’t aloof. He noticed everything about Will’s behavior and even managed to make the tragedy of that day about their friendship. Now, back to the apology, “About the last few days… You didn’t deserve anything… The truth is, the last year has been weird… Maybe I was worrying too much about El… And, I don’t know, maybe I feel like I lost you or something.” His defensiveness during the argument at the rink seems more like a trauma response than straight-up disinterest, which some people apparently think.

For El, I think this translates into him wanting her to need him. If El needs him, then there’s no way he can lose her, right? We know from the show that she doesn’t need him anymore. Mike also acknowledges this multiple times, and that thought terrifies him. In the last episode, he explains this to her, “... The truth is, El, I don’t know how to live without you… I can’t lose you, okay?”

Before Will shows Mike the painting in the van, Mike explains his dilemma. Will tries reassuring Mike, telling him that El will be fine, and Mike says he understands that. Mike then explains his true concern, “But what if after all this is over, she doesn’t need me anymore?... The truth is, when I stumbled on her in the woods, she just needed someone. It’s not fate, it’s not destiny, it’s just simple dumb luck. And one day, she's gonna realize that I’m just some random nerd that got lucky that Superman landed on his doorstep. I mean, at least Lois Lane is an ace reporter for The Daily Planet.”

Will continues to comfort him, focusing more on the loss aspect of Mike’s trauma, which is made evident here. But those lines also make it clear that Mike is afraid El will realize his inferiority to her and abandon him. This is a good transition into Mike’s insecurity.

Insecurity

I’ve seen people argue against what Finn says here because Mike is part of the somewhat “outcast” group at school. I don’t think trying to argue that takes away from the fact that Mike did, does, and will continue to try and lead a “normal” lifestyle. He’s a teenage boy with a girlfriend and a friend group he fits into. That’s normal. He’s trying to get by.

It was the same in S3. Mike was a kid with friends, a girlfriend, and a new want for maturity. It’s not unrealistic that the character is aging out of or into specific behaviors, especially ones that he’s previously exhibited. That leads us to his insecurity.

We’ve had hints of it starting as far back as S1E3, when Troy injures Mike, and he initially lies about it to El so that he doesn’t seem like a loser. Similarly, these themes pick up with Will in S3E3 during their fight in the rain, “...We’re not kids anymore. I mean, what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?”

Curiously, Mike is shown to be especially “normal” in California. He dresses differently than he does in Hawkins and acts more aloof. As Argyle says, “It’s a shitty knock-off.” Skipping forward to the “... She's gonna realize that I’m just some random nerd that got lucky that Superman landed on his doorstep… at least Lois Lane is an ace reporter for The Daily Planet” line, and we have a good enough view of Mike’s internal conflict.

He is deeply insecure, and it seems particularly so around El. I don’t know if this was addressed in the show, and I wish we had seen some of Mike’s letters, but does El even know about the Hellfire Club? I don’t believe we’re given any indication that she does, which could imply that Mike kept it hidden from her. It wouldn’t be surprising, considering his complete attitude change in California. Also keeping in mind that Mike stopped playing D&D when he was with her in S3 and only continued to play in S4 while El was away.

Mike also displays this insecurity by choosing to distance Will. For what reason, I can’t say for sure, but it’s probably something “abnormal.”

Regardless, his insecurity ties into his fear of loss. The more normal he is, the more things he can maintain in life and the less he has to lose. Especially when it comes to El. It all stems back to his fear, not genuine malintent, and I see too many viewers misunderstand this.

It also works the opposite way, to a different and lesser extent. If he’s out of Hellfire Club, he loses his “normal teenage clique.” Aside from losing El completely as someone he profoundly cares about, if he loses El as a partner, he loses his girlfriend. That’s a blow to his normality.

Will is confusing to me. If he “loses” Will, just like he felt he did at the beginning of S4, he falls more into the pattern of trying to be normal. There’s no impact on his normality. By keeping Will at arms-length, Mike gravitated more towards his “shitty knock-off” version of himself. Something about Will brings out what Mike feels is abnormal in him, so by distancing himself, he could avoid it altogether. That’s likely in part what caused such a conflict at the beginning of S4: Mike’s inability to be “normal” while fully keeping Will in his life and vice versa, his inability to lose Will just to maintain normalcy.

"STurn"

We’ve focused on trauma and insecurity. Now, it’s time for self-identity. I think that's a theme in store for the future. I'll refer back to the “STurn” analysis I previously did.

Many of the songs on this playlist contain themes of a false identity. I’ll start with “Angst In My Pants” first. To quote my "STurn" analysis:

This song is about a person attempting to be someone they're not, suppressing who they really are, and it ultimately leading to dissatisfaction. The lyrics, "You can dress nautical / Learn to tie knots / Take lots of Dramamine / Out on your yacht" describe a faux lifestyle one lives that only serves to hurt them in the end: The idea of putting on a self-harming persona. This could be what Mike is going through in S5.

Next, we have "Substitute":

This track is about an idealized version of someone being put in place of their true self. The narrator describes a scenario in which their partner sees a version of them, "I'm a substitute for another guy / I look pretty tall but my heels are high / The simple things you see are all complicated / I look bloody young, but I'm just back-dated, yeah", that is unrealistic and put on, as seen in the lyrics "Substitute your lies for fact / I see right through your plastic mac / I look all white, but my dad was black / My fine-looking suit is really made out of sack"... The concept of a guise applies well to Mike, as referenced in Angst In My Pants. A recurring theme of hiding oneself really makes me think Mike is going to completely abandon his interests for a different lifestyle. I believe Finn has also mentioned that Mike wants to be as "normal" as possible, so I can't wait to see [how far] they take that idea. It could also be him realizing how he's been acting, and admitting that this "romanticized" version isn't true to him.

Finally, "The Rebel Kind":

Like The Better Side, I couldn't find any lyrics, so I'm doing it by ear. Though, I'm happy to say that this song is about a desire to embrace differences and rebellion. "We'll be free to run with the rebel kind" and "It's not easy, but I don't mind / I just want to run with the rebel kind" establish that. The track appears to tie into Mike's insecurity struggles throughout the playlist. It could be the narrator's struggle to keep up with societal norms before finally giving in to their truth instead of trying to conform, read as "they call us rebels but don't get how hard it is to for us to keep up." On the other hand, it could be the narrator commenting on how society doesn't understand people like them, and, by embracing their true selves, it proves more about who they are than conforming ever would; read as, "you think we're the rebellious ones, but you don't understand that we're more self-secure and strong than you'll ever be." I can see both of these interpretations working for Mike and his connection to the Party. The progression of insecurity in Angst In My Pants and potential realization of this guise in Substitute is wrapped up by Mike's self-acceptance here. I really hope this is how it plays out in S5.

Conclusion

Mike's brewing insecurity, paired with his trauma of loss, seems like it may boil over in S5. I theorize that he’ll drift even more into his “shitty knock-off” self, even if just on the surface, and do whatever he can to maintain normalcy in his life. Whether this leads to more conflict with Will, we’ll have to wait and see.

Besides that, Mike might eventually accept his "differences." He also may be willing to cope with loss for what it is, even if it’s the loss of the normalcy he tries so hard to maintain in certain situations. I can see Mike having a heavy emphasis on self-identity in S5, and as I said earlier, I can’t wait to see where they take that.

Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed!

As is customary with all my posts, if anything here is incorrect or you believe there’s something I should add, feel free to let me know. I’d love to have more conversations about Mike and read all the predictions for S5 I can.

#mike wheeler #stranger things 5 #stranger things #st5 #will byers #el hopper #st5 predictions #stranger things analysis #STurn #mike wheeler analysis #byler #<- target audience

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upon-a-starry-night · 10 months

Text

Number Neighbors Part 12

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

You wouldn’t call yourself a totally hopeless romantic, but when Leon showed up at your door dressed to the T, holding roses, and asking you out with a charming smirk you nearly swooned.

You placed the flowers in a vase on your kitchen counter where they would probably stay long after they wilted. You took note of how long it even took you to find an actual vase in your place, not to mention how dusty it was.

Modern ‘dating’ has drowned out so much romance these days.

It had been so long since you went on a date you forgot how nice it felt to get out of the house with other people, how nice it felt to be the center of someone's attention and admiration. You wouldn’t say you craved it necessarily but you definitely lacked a lot of social interaction. Not to mention you were 100% touch-starved.

Leon picked you up and took you out to see a movie, it was an unconventional first date but you didn’t mind. Especially not when he held your hand and bought you expensive movie theater snacks. It was cute and simple. It wasn’t like you were expecting a whole lot.

On the way there the two of you got to know each other better, you found out his mother had died 4 years ago and that he had been helping his dad with the restaurant ever since.

You felt so much respect for him that he’d stuck by his father to help him.

The two of you played 20 questions for most of the car ride, learning simple things about each other like favorite movies, preferred colors, and biggest dreams

It eased a lot of the anxiety you’d been feeling since he picked you up.

Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice how nervous you were and if your palms were sweaty in his, he never commented on it.

The movie was a comedy that you enjoyed, although you kept getting distracted by Leon playfully stealing your popcorn.

You were so used to doing things by yourself that you forgot how fun simple things were with other people.

You really should try to make more friends.

Your train of thought drifted to Nat a lot of times throughout the night. For some reason, you kept wondering if she would enjoy doing things like this with you. You let yourself indulge in your fantasy for a moment, pretending that Leon was Nat and that you two were meeting up for the first time but not the last time. It wasn’t a bad date but you found it felt better when you imagined Nat there.

You felt less nervous.

It almost got to the point where a joke was made in the movie about spies and you turned to laugh with Nat about the inside joke, only to find Leon with his eyes trained on the screen.

You were the only one in the theater who had laughed.

You shook the thoughts out of your head. Here Leon was treating you to a nice movie and you’re thinking about someone else.

The rest of the date you tried to focus on Leon and the movie but now there was a distinct feeling of something missing.

You hated how easily Nat could take over your brain lately, and how much hope and happiness you got from imagining her with you everywhere.

It was becoming a problem so much that you really did begin taking her with you everywhere.

When you went to the grocery store there she was telling you sassily that you should eat more than frozen pizza and chicken nuggets.

(An argument you’d had over text many times)

When you went to the library she was there telling you to pick out books other than romance novels

Everywhere you went she was there commenting on things

Always faceless but wearing that same red t-shirt from the photo she sent you.

You didn’t realize just how much she had begun to infiltrate your life until now.

In a way, it comforted you.

If you couldn’t have the real thing then maybe you could live with Imaginary Nat.

When Leon dropped you off at your apartment you kissed him on the cheek and entered your apartment with a smiling face, immediately opening your phone to text Nat about the whole ordeal. She was quick to text back, she had been more responsive since your break from each other.

And sassier than ever as well

Nat🔪:

A Movie? Really?

Y/n🍦:

Shut up it was cute

He held my hand and bought me popcorn

Nat🔪:

Wow.

I’m teeming with jealousy.

Y/n🍦:

It was a first date

Nothing's perfect on a first date.

Nat🔪:

Whoever told you that was a liar.

C’mon, you can’t be serious about that…

Y/n🍦:

I don’t think I’ve ever had a perfect first date

Nat🔪:

Then you’ve been with all the wrong people Y/n.

Y/n🍦:

Where would you take someone on a first date?

She took a while to type, the three dots appearing and disappearing numerous times. You took the spare time to get ready for bed and change into your pajamas. You hopped into bed, reveling in the warmth that the covers brought you.

Nat🔪:

Depends on the person

Y/n🍦:

Did you take all that time to type that?

What were you thinking before you pressed backspace?

Nat🔪:

Well a date idea for you - based on what you’ve

told me about yourself-

Probably a rooftop picnic.

Y/n🍦:

Oh?

You hadn’t been on a picnic in a long time. Going on one did sound nice actually…

Nat🔪:

Since you never get out of the house

Y/n🍦:

Hey! I get out enough!

Nat🔪:

Maybe I’d bring a game or some paints,

You can learn a lot about someone by what they

Paint on a first date.

Then I’d probably want to walk around

with you for a bit just to listen to you talk.

Then I’d take you out stargazing. You seem like the type.

Hypothetically, of course.

You threw your phone onto your bed and turned to scream into your pillow. It really was not fair how suave Nat could be sometimes. And how were you supposed to gush about your date when she just made up a much better hypothetical date? You were pretty sure you were blushing more at her idea than you had all night with Leon.

Y/n🍦:

Hypothetically you’re right.

That sounds like a dream

Are you speaking from experience?

You were trying to prepare yourself for if the answer was yes, you had to admit you’d be pretty jealous of whoever got that date. Although you think you’d probably be jealous of anyone going out with Nat, she seems like the type of person to treat her partner right.

You tried not to let your brain go down that path.

Nat🔪:

All of that was specific to you, Y/n.

I wouldn’t do that with anyone else

Screw it, all of your apprehension went out of the window. What were you supposed to say to that?

You immediately began imagining the date Nat described, your favorite foods sprawled across a stereotypical red and white blanket as you looked over the city. Walking around Central Park for hours, finally talking to Nat in person and hearing what her laugh sounded like. Driving away from central New York to the outskirts of town where you can see a million stars. It all sounded like the perfect day.

And when you tried to imagine it with Leon or anyone else it just didn’t feel quite right.

But you would never get that with her.

So even though it made your heart flutter and your stomach flip you pushed out the thoughts of you and Nat together.

Even if you really wanted to be.

Shit, You were so in over your head.

~~~

Normally showers were your happy place but You’d practically freaked out when Leon told you your next date would be at a fancy expensive restaurant down the street. You’d passed by it so many times and wondered what the inside looked like but you never thought you’d actually eat there. It made you exponentially nervous.

The types of people you saw going in there were nothing like you.

And if you were honest, you weren’t sure you wanted to be anything like them.

But Leon was treating you and it was such a classic date idea, especially in the movies.

You couldn’t just say no.

Briefly, you wondered if Nat was the kind of person to enjoy expensive restaurants. The thought of her sparked an idea in your head:

Maybe Nat could help you out.

You finished cleaning up and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body and quickly wiping your fingers on it to grab your phone.

You paused the soft music you’d been playing and opened the messages app.

Pausing to reread and huff out a laugh at your previous messages.

Something about Nat complaining about not getting any privacy with her roommates. Something you only recently found out she had.

Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

Emergency!

Nat’s responses were immediate and you almost felt bad for phrasing your text so urgently

Nat🔪:

What?

What is it

Are you okay?

Y/n🍦:

I don’t have anything to wear 😫

Nat🔪:

I’m blocking you.

Y/n🍦:

Natttt

I need your help

Please

Nat?

Where’d you go?

Nat🔪:

You can no longer send messages to this number

Y/n🍦:

That’s not the real blocked message.

You pathological liar. At least make it believable.

For real I need your help

Nat🔪:

Why is this such a big deal?

Y/n🍦:

I have to wear something fancy to this restaurant

Leon is taking me to.

It’s called Sharp Cuisine

Nat🔪:

Fancy?

That’s not very you

Didn't you two literally meet in a diner?

Y/n🍦:

Hey, I’ll never say no to free food.

Nat🔪:

How can he even afford a place like that?

Y/n🍦:

Maybe he has connections?

Nat🔪:

If that’s the case have fun eating

In the storage closet

Y/n🍦:

I’m so stressed out, I don’t

Go out enough to have fancy outfits.

I think there’s dust on my clubbing outfit…

Nat🔪:

That’s depressing.

Dates aren’t meant to be stressful Y/n.

Maybe you should tell him?

Y/n🍦:

He already made reservations

Not everyone is as romantic as you Nat.

I wish.

Nat🔪:

Fine, show me your options.

Y/n🍦:

Thank God

I Love you (Deleted)

I owe you!

When you’d gotten to the restaurant you were still self-conscious but you felt a lot better in the outfit Nat helped you pick, along with the accessories she told you would pair with it perfectly.

Halfway through the -honestly average dinner a fancy server approached you with a plate. Your favorite dessert sat prettily decorated and you stared in awe. Worried you might start drooling soon you turned to Leon to thank him only for him to turn to the waiter with concern etched onto his features

“Sorry but, I didn’t order this”

You furrowed your eyebrows, disappointment settling at the fact that the server probably delivered it to the wrong table

“I’m well aware sir, someone came in and told us to give it to someone named Y/n?”

You perked up at that, something hopeful and curious stirring inside your chest

“I’m Y/n” The waiter turned his attention to you, nodding his head slightly as if to say he already knew

“Yes I was given a description of your dress” He places the dessert next to your half-eaten meal and then hands you a note written on a napkin and walks away to serve another table.

You took a bite out of the sugary dish and nearly moaned at how good it was, after a few more bites you finally looked down and read the note written in pretty but precise handwriting.

“I have connections too. Enjoy your dessert, Y/n ;) ~ Nat”

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest,

She was here.

Pt.13

-Writing Leon and Y/n scenes is literally sooo hard for me I’m sorry- that’s why they might b boring~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx

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em-harlsnow · 4 months

Text

short mini-fic 🫶

ian mainly gets tiktok because Debbie won’t shut up about it. She tells him it’s simultaneously terrible and really good, and starts posting videos of Franny to her private account. She whines that she doesn’t have enough followers, so okay, ian will bite the bullet.

he downloads it, only to see Franny. it’s pretty boring at first because the FYP hasn’t caught up to what he likes yet. eventually, though, he gets a bit more into it.

he starts following some gay or lesbian or straight (although there are fewer of those) couples on the app, watching some of their content because it’s funny. he follows people who know about gardening and people who aim to motivate you to run and eat healthy.

he’s been on it for around three weeks when he starts understanding trends. They don’t last very long, and some are kind of interesting. It’s almost like an inside joke but for the whole internet. one trend in particular, ian thinks is actually hilarious.

it’s a couple trend. it involves one person asking the other to leave while they get changed. maybe the beauty’s in the simplicity, because the reactions to it are wildly entertaining.

he just has to try it on Mickey.

he’s not gonna record, because he doesn’t really care for people knowing their private life.

Mickey’s sat on their bed on his phone when ian comes in, happily chuckling away to YouTube. ian walks over to the draws, grabbing his pyjamas so that he can change for bed.

“hey, can you leave while i get changed?” he asks Mickey, and the reaction is immediate.

“What?” eyebrows raised incredulously.

“Can you leave the room while i get changed?”

Mickey scoffs. “No.”

“Come on. I’ll be quick.” He tries to persuade.

“Then you can change here.”

“I just want privacy, i’ll literally be ten seconds.”

Mickey all out laughs at him, putting his phone down. “Privacy? fuck off with that bullshit. i’ve been up close and personal with both your cock and your ass, fuck privacy.” And then in a move ian doesn’t expect, mickey sits himself up and watches him.

“Mickeyyy, just please let me get changed. or at least turn around.” He pleads.

“No. I’m watching you get changed now.”

“Why?” Ian’s sort of running out of excuses as to why he wants to get changed away from Mickey, but he needs to continue.

“Because I like watching you get naked.”

Ian scoffs, then turns to go into the bathroom and change. Mickey grabs him by the back of his jeans and gently tugs him back to the bed.

“Is this an insecurity thing? coz you know you’re the hottest guy i’ve ever seen.” he says, blue eyes staring up at ian.

ian smirks. “thank you, and no, not an insecurity thing. i just don’t want to get changed while you’re watching me like a perv.”

Mickey smiles back. “i am your husband, we have been together ten years, i am perfectly fucking entitled to watch you like a perv. now get changed.” he grins, smacking ian’s ass to make a point.

“i feel like you didn’t do it right.”

Mickey’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Didn’t do what right?”

“It’s a tiktok trend where you tell your partner that you want them to leave so you can get changed. you made it sweet.” Ian argues lightly, finally getting changed.

“fuck off. i’m not sweet. and fuck off with your toktik bullshit.” Mickey replies, and watches Ian like a perv as he strips down and pulls on his pyjamas.

“sure mick, you’re definitely not sweet.” ian states sarcastically, and Mickey rolls his eyes.

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #gallavich fic #shameless fanfiction #i don’t know what this is #it just came to me #i thought it was funny #i don’t know if anyone else has seen this trend

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koithelittle · 10 months

Text

christmas movies & cuddles

note; my first fic here, yay!! terrified would be an understatement. idk how long it’s taken me to write this but it’s been a while, i was really struggling with being okay and confident with it so if it suck’s, i’m sorry. requests are open tho! for all things, and my inbox just in general so have at it! okay that’s all.

warnings; use of daddy/dada, cutesy pet names, brief mention of alcohol (wils past wif cwistmas), ummmss,,, mark boardman is there! great sitter- okay that’s all i think! not proofread for mistakes so beware!

pairing; cg!wilbur soot x gn!little!reader

navigation

taglist; @jjtheresidentbaby @lillylvjy @wilmaslittleflower @whos-nicooo (ask to be added!)

wilbur always found enjoyment in making you happy, in doing things that would bring a smile to your face or make you laugh and giggle. he loved to be your sun, when all you were surrounded by was darkness.

he's never been fond of holidays if he's honest. he didn't like dressing up for Halloween, and as a guy in his mid-late 20s, he didn't particularly care for the party side of halloween either. when it came to Christmas, it only seemed to remind him how lonely he was. or had been. before he met you, christmas was spent inside, alone with alcohol to numb the loneliness.

but now, with you, he has every reason to celebrate it. christmas decor goes up november 1st, Christmas cookies get made the day after and he already has a list of gifts he plans on getting for you and all of your shared friends. he has plans of activities, and small outings to go on. you go ice skating together, where he holds you to his side and keeps you from falling. he takes you out to get a christmas tree together, bringing it home and setting it up in the corner of the den.

he'll stand on his toes to hang up the garlands, spending hours outside hanging up christmas lights on the porch (you tell him it's not worth the cold he'll endure, but he insists on doing it without you peeking all so it's a surprise). he loves doing things for you, and holding you and keeping you warm during the cold nights. he'll make you tea or cocoa and hold you between his legs as you both watch a christmas movie.

you show him all your favorites, although, elf is his all time favorite. he finds it bizarre and funny at the same time. how silly it is, and campy it feels. he'll rub your stomach and kiss your cheek, holding you close to his chest.

if he's honest, part of why he does all of these things is to help you, to heal you and to make christmas fun for big you and little you (because let's be honest, he does everything he can to bring a smile to your face both big and little).

lately, though, he's wanted to focus more on at home, quiet christmasy adventures. things that you would feel comfortable doing when you're regressed, which meant quiet and cuddly activities that meant being cooped up inside.

he'd seen the whole boo basket trend, and thought it was a neat idea but wanted to have his own twist on it (prior to deciding, he also saw the burr basket posts but those fizzled out before he really got a good idea of what he had planned). he sat down at his desk to list a few stores he'd stop by and what items he planned to get from each one.

the local bookstore was sure to have a santa book, and maybe even a few jellycats (you eyed them all the time, and he almost always sneakily bought the mini ones to hide around the house). after the bookshop, he'd head to another shop, one that he's sure would have a basket and maybe a blanket, some candy and instant cocoa, amongst other things.

once his list was completed, he hurried down the stairs to where you were cooped up in the corner of the couch, wrapped up in one of his blankets with your stuffed bunny held against your chest. you'd been regressed for a few hours now, and needed quiet time so he set you up in the living room awhile ago, your favorite cartoon playing on the TV.

he sat beside you, pulling you into his side as he kisses your cheek and temple. he rubs your arm as he smiles down at you, "hello, baby, you ok?" he whispers as you whine and crawl into his arms, sitting in his lap.

he chuckles softly, nuzzling his nose against your hair as your hands grip onto his shirt. he pulls back to get a look at your face, hand on the side of your head as he pushes hair out of your face.

"love," his voice is a bit more firm, "are you okay?" you shrug as a response, soft frown held on your lips as he sighs and pulls you closer. he presses kisses to the top of your head, running his fingers through your hair as his other hand rubs your back.

he holds you for a while, the TV playing as background noise more or less as he coos and whispers a soft lullaby to soothe you a bit. when your grip on his shirt loosens, and your breathing steadies out, he pulls back to look you in the eye again.

"I've gotta go out for a bit, do you want to go stay with grace or wilma?" he whispers softly, hands on your lower back as he gets you to sit up a bit more.

you shrug, eyes stuck on the wall behind him as you zone out. he rubs your back, bringing your attention to him again, "okay," you mumble, dropping your head to your shoulder.

he kisses the shell of your ear, recognizing that you're most likely nonverbal or at least close to it. he nuzzles his nose against your cheek in a light manner, tickling you. you giggle softly, tensing up before relaxing in his hold when he kisses your temple.

"what if... I called over wilma to keep an eye on you, mm? orrrr maybe joe? ash? mark?" he smirks, pressing a few kisses to your cheek.

"ummm.. mark!" you giggle softly, smiling wide and happy at the thought of getting to see Mark again. you have a few drawings for him, as well!

"mark? okay, well can you give Daddy a few minutes while I call him, yeah?"

you nod softly, scooting out of his lap and settling in front of the TV as you start to play with your stuffies. wilbur sits up, walking over to the foyer as he calls mark, listening as it rings.

mark picks up, "hey, mate! what's up?" his voice is bright and chirpy, always happy.

"hey, I've got a favor to ask," wilbur starts, and you perk up. you sit up, leaning over the back edge of the couch, looking over at him and smiling.

Wilbur smiles over at you, chuckling before he continues, "I need to head into town for a bit and I was wondering if you'd come over and look after y/n for a bit? they're little right now and I just don't want to leave them alone but I can't take them either," Wilbur sighs, pacing a slight bit as he awaits and answer from mark.

you don't bother to listen to the rest, slinking to the corner of the couch and curling up happily. he walks over a moment later, sitting beside you and rubbing your side and arm.

"hey lovebug," wilbur coos, you lift your head and smile sleepily at him. he pulls you up into his lap, holding you close.

"hi, dada," you whisper, head rested on his shoulder as he rubs your back softly, free hand playing with your hair.

"mark will be here soon, yeah?" he smiles sweetly, rubbing your upper arms as he pulls back to look at you.

he holds you close to him, humming a soft tune as you let the time pass quietly. mark soon rings the doorbell and wilbur greets him before giving him a way too detailed run down, as if he'd never been your sitter before. then, wilbur finally leaves.

he hurries out to the car, heading into town. he had the list pulled up on his phone, ready to have things marked off. he started with the book shop, sifting through the various christmas children books and collecting a few in his arms, checking out and walking next door to the children's shops.

he spends the rest of the next two hours, shopping and gathering things of all kinds. your favorite candies, a blanket, a stuffie or two, books, crayons, etc etc. anything that could make you feel better. and so, after he puts everything in the trunk, he gathers it all up into the basket, making it look all pretty before he tucks it into the passengers seat, making his way home.

while wilbur is driving home, you and Mark are set up on the kitchen floor. he made a little sensory box for you, one that he brought from home. youre playing with the toys, making the dinos fly as mark watches you and cheers you on, making you giggle with every question he has.

"what's this dinos name, little one?" mark coos, holding a blue dino up to you.

you giggle softly, taking the dino and placing it on the top of his head, making it jump around before taking it back and putting it in the box, “bluey,” you hum.

“oh, bluey? that’s a nice name, hm?” you nod at mark’s question, quietly playing in the box that holds sand and rice and an assortment of dino toys.

“when’s daddy gettin home?” you mumble quietly, eyes cast down on the dinos you’re playing with.

mark hums, thinking for a moment before he answers, “soon, hun, promise.”

soon didnt come soon enough for you, waiting not so patiently for wilbur to come home. once you hear the door click open, you jump up and hurry to the door, slinging yourself into his chest. you hug him close, babbling incoherently to him as he hugs you back.

"hey, baby, you okay? you miss me?" he croons, pulling you closer against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. you nod, giggling happily.

"missed you, dada!" you squeal as he moves to pick you up, holding you on his hip as mark cleans up in the kitchen.

"I missed you too baby! how about you settle down here, mkay?" he sets you down on the couch, tucking a blanket over you as he moves into the kitchen.

"were they okay?" wilbur kneels down to help clean up the dino toys and what other things get taken out of the box.

mark smiles and nods, "of course! they missed you though, alot."

wilbur hums, smiling to himself at the thought as he and mark bid goodbyes, mark soon leaving through the front door. you peak up over the back of the couch, arms folded and chin resting atop of them.

he chuckles, walking over to you and kissing your forehead, brushing hair out of your face gently, "hi love, I'm gonna go get something, okay? be a good little love while I'm gone. I'll be right back," he places a lingering kiss to your forehead before he turns to leave out the door. you stay there, watching the door like a puppy. he steps back in a few minutes later, a basket covered with his jacket now clad in his arms.

"close your eyes, bunbun," he smiles widely, and you do as told, giggling softly as you shut your eyes. you feel him sitting down next to you and something wicker being placed in your lap.

"open, love," he smiles as you, watching as you excitedly giggle and look up at him.

“all for me?” you whisper in disbelief, eyes wide with joy as you hold the sides of the basket, waiting for the go ahead.

“mhm, just for you, baby. go on, open it. it’s for our evening,” he smiles a bit softer, hand reaching behind your head to rub your hair as he watches you excitedly unwrap it all. your eyes widening with each thing, giggling and squealing happily with each little gift. once it’s all open, you crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, settling in for a hug.

“thank you, daddy!” you giggle softly, nuzzling your face into his neck as wilbur hugs you close.

“did you like it?” he hums, kissing your temple and cheek as he guides you back so he can look down at your face.

you nod eagerly, “all of it! every bit!” you reach over for the little bunny stuffie he grabbed for you and you show it to him, “it looks like you dada!”

he chuckles, rubbing your cheek and nodding, “oh it does, doesn’t it?” he takes it into his hand, waving it a bit at you as you giggle.

“yeah! ‘s you, dada!”

“well that’s a high compliment, mm?” you nod softly at his words as he hands the bunny back to you, pulling you into his lap as he rubs his thumbs over your soft cheeks, “how does a christmas movie with popcorn and candy and cuddles sound, mm?” his lips curl up in a coy smile, eyes bright with love for you.

you nod in agreement, resting your head on his shoulder as your hands rest on his sides, “mmhm, please?”

he nods, mumbling a quick okay as he kisses your cheek and sets you aside on the couch, “i’m gonna go get stuff from the kitchen, ok? you stay here and rest,” you nod, rubbing your eyes sleepily as you curl up on your side.

he hurries into the kitchen, starting some popcorn as he fills your favorite sippy with some juice, setting that aside as he pours the popcorn in a bowl. he sits beside you, popcorn on the coffee table as he hands you your sippy cup. you hold it, leaning against his side as he sets up a movie, cuddling close with you as you both quietly watch the movie together.

the rest of the evening is spent cuddled up with a christmas movie and candy, no need to talk or chat, and that’s the best part.

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