#and struggling to hold a convincing human form…

[huskies709]

Been looking at a whole lot of That’s Not My Neighbor lately, and I’ve gotta say: as a horror game, the game is not scary at all.

What is scary, though? The fridge horror of it all.

Just imagine how society must function in this world. You have to match your ID near EXACTLY if you don’t want to get at best held for questioning and at worst ‘cleaned’ by the DDD, and some of these IDs expire 10, 20 years out into the future! Do you even look like your ID within one year of having it?

No dyeing your hair or cutting it, not without warning the DDD or your apartment or your workplace or anywhere else that people might need to be screened for doppelgängers. No nicking yourself while shaving- and if you took your ID photo when clean shaven, you have to do that till god knows how long- and if you do, how do you explain that cut to people? Do you need to have a DNA test done? Have a family member vouch for you? Even if the evidence is accepted by those in power and you are allowed to continue, what of the social stigma? Do people avoid each other when they look differently?

Getting sick, too. Sneezing and coughing can give you a red, irritated nose and a raspy voice- and if the doorman doesn’t trust you then, what do you do? No one would want to be near you, both because they don’t want to feel ill and also because that could mean having no place to sleep or worse.

Speaking of worse. Do you know how many doppelgängers there are? Some nights there are more doppelgängers trying to get into the apartment than there are real people! How does society function at all? Do the doppelgängers have jobs and go to work? Do they know instinctively who other doppelgängers are, or once the area is saturated with them, can they no longer tell? Is this why they don’t attack humans until they are in the safety of their own homes?

Are the apartment buildings the only private, human rich spaces left? How many people are left?

How many humans are left?

And despite all this, people are still having children and going to school and pursuing their passions. Nacha is a teacher- has she seen child doppelgängers get stopped at the front gates of the school before? We know they exist, there are plenty of her child trying to get into their apartment. What does she think about it? Godddd I need a story more to this game so badly. I have so many questions you have no idea

[madschiavelique]

okay so once miguel accidentally flashed his happy trail to his gf, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, constantly staring at his abdomen when she thought miguel didn’t see her (he did 😁). they just recently started dating, she was shy and inexperienced but she is just a human after all 😔 she lasted a week before she came to him looking embarrassed, desperate and defeated “miggy can you teach me how to suck your dick please 🥺👉🏻👈🏻”

long story short we need some good old dick appreciation 😉

AAAAA THIS IS SO SWEET i love it hehehe

summary : you ask miguel to teach you how to suck his dick (not proofread)

contents warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, blow job (miguel receiving), lots of praise, miguel is so sweet and patient in this word count : 2,9k

All it had taken was a casual glance, and your mind was infatuated with the idea. You were spending some time in Miguel's quarters when it happened, when your eyes were blessed by the sight before you.

He'd just got out of the shower, and as he hurriedly pulled on his T-shirt on the way out, his untied jogging bottoms had dropped slightly until your eyes drifted to his stomach and you saw it: his happy trail.

You'd only seen it for a brief moment, Miguel's T-shirt covering it all too shortly after that blessed vision, and his hands properly re-tying the elastic of his jogging bottoms.

But it was enough to occupy your thoughts for days. As he was often dressed in his spider suit, you had very little opportunity to think about seeing it again, other than in its civilian clothes. But that didn't stop you from occasionally glancing down at his belly, and sometimes even lower. The moments when you realised what your eyes were looking for were often followed by a flush in your cheeks and the back of your neck.

It's just that... you didn't necessarily have a great deal of experience in this field, and you were immensely curious. You also wondered if Miguel was holding back. You'd already talked about it, and you wanted to take it slow, because after all you and Miguel hadn't been dating for very long.

But you were getting impatient by the day, so you tried to visit him a little more in his private appartment. Miguel seemed to find this suspicious, but how could you explain to him that your thoughts had been riveted on a single subject for days, and that was his happy trail and what was below it ?

You were trying to convince him to wear civilian clothes more often, using arguments along the lines of "when we're together you don't need to wear the suit, you wear it mainly for work, so when you're with me you don't need to wear it."

And then, you thought maybe giving him a blow job would relax him? He seemed so tense quite often, and you wanted him to feel good, you wanted to make him feel good.

And as the days went by, the questions multiplied. Is it big ? Of course it is, but how big ? Could your hand grab him properly or would you struggle with the width ? How did he taste in your mouth? What sounds would he make when you'd lick him ? How do you even... give a blow job ?

It was when your curiosity became unbearable and your own questions too much for you that one afternoon, while you were sitting in Miguel's apartment and he hadn't yet returned, you asked Lyla:

"Lyla, send me a good article on How To Give A Blow Job, please."

The orange pixel cloud had almost immediately taken off its heart-shaped tinted glasses.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, eyes wide while her programmed eyelids fluttered as she watched you, "a good article on what?"

"You heard me very right, your system is 100% perfect: I want you to give me a good article on-"

"Yeah yeah i get it i'm just, um, surprised." she admitted, a virtual screen forming in the form of a tablet in her hands as she paused, hesitating and turning to you, "would you perhaps be interested in... different material?"

You raised an eyebrow, taking your computer and resting it on your thighs.

"What material ?"

"Well you know, the material," she replied with a little shrug.

"Huh?" you said, frowning as Lyla raised her eyebrows completely, as if taken aback by your answer.

"Let me just send you a link," she replied, sighing.

Within seconds, you received a link and opened it. It took you to a video that launched instantly. You gasped, immediately pausing and closing your computer. But your eyes had caught it well: two naked people, a woman lying between a man's legs as she took him in her mouth.

You hesitated between finding a way to fry Lyla's motherboard or congratulating her, but in the end you did neither. Any learning ways still brings knowledge somehow, right ?

You took a deep breath, then hesitantly reopened your computer. The page was still open, the video stopped on a scene that could not have been more erotic. Perhaps learning the basics wouldn't be too much?

So you started the video, turning the sound down to almost minimum, and watched. You tried to pay attention to the woman's gestures, how her hands acted, how she angled her head, how she...

"Cariño?"

The speed with which you closed the page and your computer surprised even you as you faced Miguel. Shit, he'd got home earlier than you thought, and you just hoped he hadn't heard too much…

"Oh babe you're home!" you say jovially, trying to act as if nothing had happened, hoping he hadn't noticed. "How was your day?"

He was standing up straight, one of his eyebrows raised. He took a step.

"Were you watching what I think you were watching?"

Shit, he'd definitely noticed. How could you want to escape from a spider on a situation like this with tenfold senses? You bit the inside of your lip nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up. Who knows, though, as long as he hadn't said exactly what he thought you'd seen, you might have a chance of getting out of this... however slim the chances?

"And," you asked as he took another step in your direction, your hands moving your laptop to the side as you turned to face him, cross-legged, "what do you think I was watching?"

He let out a little laugh from his nose, his tongue running over his canine teeth as he moved a little closer to you again.

"Don't play this little game with me." he said simply, your lips pressing into a thin line, "I think you and I both exactly know what was on that screen of yours just a few seconds ago."

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing with the gesture as he approached again, only a metre from the bed.

"Well yes, i was watching... what you think it is." he nodded as he crossed his arms over his vast torso.

"Porn," he affirmed, the word falling easily from his lips.

"Yes," you said with an embarrassed chuckle, "that's the name for it..." you nodded, his eyes watching you, no doubt trying to find out the reason behind this. "But I had my own reasons to do so, of course," you said to clear your throat.

"Which were?" his responses to your sentences were so quick that they seemed to stick to your every word.

You inhaled, straightening up, suddenly determined. The vision of his happy-trail came back into your mind, your eyes inevitably landing on where it must have been under the suit.

"Miguel," your eyes returned to his, "I want you to teach me how to suck your dick, please."

There was silence for a few seconds before Miguel smiled, the smile turning into a small laugh, his amused eyes looking into yours confused.

"So that's what the looks were about?"

You froze, your cheeks heating even more. All those looks you'd been giving him, all directed at his lower stomach and more, he'd noticed. You fancied the idea disappearing down a hole right now, and placed your hands on your face in embarrassment.

"Hey hey," he said softly, coming to kneel in front of you as his two large hands came to rest on yours to move them away from your face. "It's okay, it's just," he caressed your cheek, "took you long enough muñeca, you could've just asked me."

"I know," you said, your hand sliding over his as you pressed your cheek closer, "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he assured you, "but in the future, whenever you're thinking about something like that, or anything, you have to tell me. Okay ?"

You smile softly, "Okay."

He came over and kissed your lips chastely.

"So," he said, taking your hand in his, "you want to learn how to do this?"

You inhaled, nodding. He came to kiss you again tenderly, coming to sit on the bed and lay down. He pulled you against him as you kissed, his hand coming to rest on your for a second. He stopped the kiss for a moment, tapping his watch gently. You were so happy of finally being able to do this, you couldn't wait anymore.

"Learned anything from the video?" he asked, glancing at you.

You said nothing, just tilted your head slightly to one side as you shrugged on all fours above him.

"We'll see, but be careful with that kind of stuff. A lot of it doesn't really show anything actually pleasant, it's all for show. Alright? Cariño?" he informed, coming to stroke your cheek again as you nodded. "Good."

Then his suit began to depixelate, and your eyes lowered until you finally saw the happy trail again, and what was just below it.

Okay, now there might be a problem you thought, because the dick the girl was sucking in the video, which was hard, just approached the same size as Miguel's... which wasn't hard yet. He was, and will be too big for what you were about to do.

"Everything is alright cariño?" he asked worriedly, "are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," you replied immediately, perhaps a little too eagerly.

A small smile spread across his lips.

"Good. If you're not sure what to do, I can give you small tips as you go along."

You nodded once more, your eyes dropping to his perfect torso. You lowered your face gently, kissing his skin gently, gradually working your way down to his navel.

He breathed softly, and you felt his skin grow grainy under your kisses. Then you finally reached his body hair, your hand resting on the sheets and gently caressing his hip as you placed soft kisses on his happy trail. A sigh of relief escaped from between his lips. The object of all your desires for a week was finally here, close to your touch.

Then, just a few centimetres lower, you came to face his cock. Your eyes locked with Miguel's for a moment as you kissed his groin, then coming to kiss his shaft running your lips along the base of his it.

You heard him inhale as the fingers of your other hand gently wrapped around him, holding him tenderly as you placed a trail of pecks from the base of his dick to his tip. You placed kitten kisses there as you felt him harden and grow between your fingers and against your lips.

This encouraged you, as you no doubt told yourself that you were doing the right thing for his body to react like that.

"Spit will help you, nena," Miguel murmured, surrendering gently to your touch.

You nodded, sticking your tongue out between your teeth to lick his tip, a low grunt echoing in Miguel's chest as you gathered drool on the sides of your cheeks to run down his length and lick him further. Your hand spread the saliva a little more evenly as you kissed your way down to his balls. Then, placing your whole tongue on his base, you worked your way up his entire length.

"This feels so good muñeca," he breathed, one of his hands gently stroking your hair.

You let a little more drool trickle down, your hand spreading it a little more evenly as you pulled the foreskin back to expose the head, kissing the uncovered pink and licking it gently as Miguel sighed and moaned. You made circular movements with your tongue, your eyes resting on Miguel from time to time.

"There's a spot, just under-"

But no sooner had he started his sentence than you opened your mouth wider and let your tongue slide under his tip, just underneath the crown, like you had seen the woman do.

"Yes, there," Miguel breathed shakily, his eyes closing as his head fell back on the pillow, "right there, just like that."

You let your tongue flick back and forth on that spot, beautiful moans rumbling in Miguel's throat. You readjusted his cock in your hand and then gently took his tip into your mouth, letting your tongue slide underneath him.

He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling in a long sigh of pleasure. Your mouth was so warm and wet and your tongue was incredible: perfect for him.

"You feel so good," he whispered, biting his lip, his half-closed eyes coming to rest on yours.

He was thick, and you were trying your best to make sure your mouth was wide open enough to contain him but also to keep the right pressure around him. So, breathing in gently to loosened your jaw, sank a couple of centimetres deeper around him, then pulled up slightly.

You started at a slow pace, taking your time to get used to all this and remember to breathe properly, but also to savour the moment. You relaxed your lips as you lowered yourself onto him, then pressed them once you got up, letting your tongue stretch out as soon as you came up to caress that sweet spot he'd mentioned.

"Be careful with the teeth, muñeca" he said softly as your teeth surreptitiously grazed his skin.

You widened your mouth a little more, breathing in so that your cheeks hollowed out and pressed against him.

"You're doing so good for me," he murmured, his hand still on your hair, caressing it even more.

His praise encouraged you even more, and you thought maybe it would be good to step it up a level. So you sank down on him a little too hastily, and he bumped your throat very lightly as you immediately pulled away, coughing slightly thanks to your gag reflex. How could the lady in the video make it look so simple ? You felt ridiculous.

"Hey, slow down," smiled Miguel as he straightened up a little to reassure you, "all the way down will take a bit more time, but you're already doing so good for me, arlight ?" He caressed your cheek. "No need to rush it."

You nodded softly, although you could have guessed that you wouldn't be able to take all of him in your mouth, especially with the little experience you had, you could still pleasure him.

You weren't just here to make him come, you were here to make him feel good because you wanted him to feel good. 

So you went back to kissing his tip, letting your tongue coat it again before taking it back into your mouth. You knew you couldn't suck the whole thing straight away, so you took his shaft in your hand, pumping softly. You let a little more saliva spill out as you remembered the movement of the woman's hand in the video.

You started twisting your hand clockwise while sucking on him, your tongue occasionally hardening near his sweet spot and the tip. He was making heavenly moans, his fingers weaving through your hair, his hips starting to move on their own.

"You look gorgeous," he moaned tenderly.

A low moan rose from your throat and vibrated against him, his head sinking into the pillow as his back arched, his fingers becoming a little firmer and gripping your hair.

When your jaw began to tire, you wrapped your second hand around his cock, twisting it counter-clockwise, your mouth concentrating more on the head. Your hands applied more pressure as you pulled back, and since your hands were twisting around him, you started softly twisting your head as well.

His hips dictated a rhythm that you followed, a little faster every instant, his hand on your head guiding you in the rhythm.

"You're amazing," he breathed.

You hollowed your cheeks, his rhythm quickening as his moans multiplied. He was going to come, and you would accept it with longing.

His breath became more and more ragged, and after a powerful moan and a single thrust of his hip, you felt it spill over your tongue. He was out of breath, and realising what he'd just done, he pulled out of your embrace confused:

"I'm so sorry!" he said, referencing your tongue covered in his cum, "It was just so good i forgot to pull out, you don't have to-"

But you pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth until the substance dripped down your throat and you swallowed. The taste was slightly salty, but nothing special.

"Swallow," he finished, a smile stretching his lips, surprised.

He straightened, pulling you to him for a gentle kiss.

"You did so great nena, really, I'm so proud of you. You were amazing... you are amazing."

A smile stretched your lips as he caressed your cheek and you came to kiss him again, delighted to have finally been able to taste your desire.

Bonus:

"So, was the material I sent you helpful?" asked Lyla.

"Very," you admitted, "excellent choice."

"What material ?" asked Miguel, confused.

"The new one for an upcoming suit," replied Lyla.

"I'm not sure we're talking about fabric here," remarked Miguel, slightly suspicious as he left the room and you winked at Lyla.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Creating Compelling Character Arcs: A Guide for Fiction Writers

As writers, one of our most important jobs is to craft characters that feel fully realized and three-dimensional. Great characters aren't just names on a page — they're complex beings with arcs that take them on profound journeys of change and growth. A compelling character arc can make the difference between a forgettable story and one that sticks with readers long after they've turned the final page.

Today, I'm going to walk you through the art of crafting character arcs that are as rich and multi-layered as the people you encounter in real life. Whether you're a first-time novelist or a seasoned storyteller, this guide will give you the tools to create character journeys that are equal parts meaningful and unforgettable.

What Is a Character Arc?

Before we go any further, let's make sure we're all on the same page about what a character arc actually is. In the most basic sense, a character arc refers to the internal journey a character undergoes over the course of a story. It's the path they travel, the obstacles they face, and the ways in which their beliefs, mindsets, and core selves evolve through the events of the narrative.

A character arc isn't just about what happens to a character on the outside. Sure, external conflict and plot developments play a major role — but the real meat of a character arc lies in how those external forces shape the character's internal landscape. Do their ideals get shattered? Is their worldview permanently altered? Do they have to confront harsh truths about themselves in order to grow?

The most resonant character arcs dig deep into these universal human experiences of struggle, self-discovery, and change. They mirror the journeys we all go through in our own lives, making characters feel powerfully relatable even in the most imaginative settings.

The Anatomy of an Effective Character Arc

Now that we understand what character arcs are, how do we actually construct one that feels authentic and impactful? Let's break down the key components:

The Inciting Incident

Every great character arc begins with a spark — something that disrupts the status quo of the character's life and sets them on an unexpected path. This inciting incident can take countless forms, be it the death of a loved one, a sudden loss of power or status, an epic betrayal, or a long-held dream finally becoming attainable.

Whatever shape it takes, the inciting incident needs to really shake the character's foundations and push them in a direction they wouldn't have gone otherwise. It opens up new struggles, questions, and internal conflicts that they'll have to grapple with over the course of the story.

Lies They Believe

Tied closely to the inciting incident are the core lies or limiting beliefs that have been holding your character back. Perhaps they've internalized society's body image expectations and believe they're unlovable. Maybe they grew up in poverty and are convinced that they'll never be able to escape that cyclical struggle.

Whatever these lies are, they'll inform how your character reacts and responds to the inciting incident. Their ingrained perceptions about themselves and the world will directly color their choices and emotional journeys — and the more visceral and specific these lies feel, the more compelling opportunities for growth your character will have.

The Struggle

With the stage set by the inciting incident and their deeply-held lies exposed, your character will then have to navigate a profound inner struggle that stems from this setup. This is where the real meat of the character arc takes place as they encounter obstacles, crises of faith, moral dilemmas, and other pivotal moments that start to reshape their core sense of self.

Importantly, this struggle shouldn't be a straight line from Point A to Point B. Just like in real life, people tend to take a messy, non-linear path when it comes to overcoming their limiting mindsets. They'll make progress, backslide into old habits, gain new awareness, then repeat the cycle. Mirroring this meandering but ever-deepening evolution is what makes a character arc feel authentic and relatable.

Moments of Truth

As your character wrestles with their internal demons and existential questions, you'll want to include potent Moments of Truth that shake them to their core. These are the climactic instances where they're forced to finally confront the lies they believe head-on. It could be a painful conversation that shatters their perception of someone they trusted. Or perhaps they realize the fatal flaw in their own logic after hitting a point of no return.

These Moments of Truth pack a visceral punch that catalyzes profound realizations within your character. They're the litmus tests where your protagonist either rises to the occasion and starts radically changing their mindset — or they fail, downing further into delusion or avoiding the insights they need to undergo a full transformation.

The Resolution

After enduring the long, tangled journey of their character arc, your protagonist will ideally arrive at a resolution that feels deeply cathartic and well-earned. This is where all of their struggle pays off and we see them evolve into a fundamentally different version of themselves, leaving their old limiting beliefs behind.

A successfully crafted resolution in a character arc shouldn't just arrive out of nowhere — it should feel completely organic based on everything they've experienced over the course of their thematic journey. We should be able to look back and see how all of the challenges they surmounted ultimately reshaped their perspective and led them to this new awakening. And while not every character needs to find total fulfillment, for an arc to feel truly complete, there needs to be a definitive sense that their internal struggle has reached a meaningful culmination.

Tips for Crafting Resonant Character Arcs

I know that was a lot of ground to cover, so let's recap a few key pointers to keep in mind as you start mapping out your own character's trajectories:

Get Specific With Backstory

To build a robust character arc, a deep understanding of your protagonist's backstory and psychology is indispensable. What childhood wounds do they carry? What belief systems were instilled in them from a young age? The more thoroughly you flesh out their history and inner workings, the more natural their arc will feel.

Strive For Nuance

One of the biggest pitfalls to avoid with character arcs is resorting to oversimplified clichés or unrealistic "redemption" stories. People are endlessly complex — your character's evolution should reflect that intricate messiness and nuance to feel grounded. Embrace moral grays, contradictions, and partial awakenings that upend expectations.

Make the External Match the Internal

While a character arc hinges on interior experiences, it's also crucial that the external plot events actively play a role in driving this inner journey. The inciting incident, the obstacles they face, the climactic Moments of Truth — all of these exterior occurrences should serve as narrative engines that force your character to continually reckon with themselves.

Dig Into Your Own Experiences

Finally, the best way to instill true authenticity into your character arcs is to draw deeply from the personal transformations you've gone through yourself. We all carry with us the scars, growth, and shattered illusions of our real-life arcs — use that raw honesty as fertile soil to birth characters whose journeys will resonate on a soulful level.

Happy Writing!

[genshin-scenarios]

pacts and their marks: demon au

Summary: Where you've accidentally summoned a demon (you’re an exorcist) and now you’re in a pact with them! They’re now your assistant of sorts, some more willing than others…

Characters: Venti, Xiao, Lyney, Wanderer

Content warnings: minor injury and blood (Xiao), mentions of fire and smoke with allusions to death (Lyney), mentions of death and human experimentation (Wanderer)

Generally speaking, Venti likes to float rather than walk if he can help it; he’s gotten the habit of flitting around your form often, hanging off your shoulders and clinging on to you absentmindedly. You might be more annoyed about it if it wasn’t for his voice as he greets you, light and deceptively soothing.

Venti’s music hypnotizes the heart. Whether it be singing or another instrument, he has the ability to convince any being, living or dead, to do as he wishes—so long as his melody isn’t overpowered by their strength of mind.

Honestly, sometimes you wonder if he’s testing the safety-precautions of your pact. You’re invulnerable to his powers thanks to it, but with the way he endears himself towards you, you wonder if his true motive was to steal your affections in another way.

He’s one of the rare demons that blend in with people well. You found him as a spirit living inside an antique lyre; while Venti says he was sleeping there for a lack of anything to do, you have a feeling that there’s another story behind his attachment to the item. He often uses it in battle—its strings glowing with an old magic that matches the shade of his eyes and braids.

You sometimes forget how deadly it is to lose one’s mind in the heat of a fight, when Venti’s lying next to you on the bed as he scrolls on your spare phone. Noticing your attention he peers up, twirling his hair—currently unbraided—between his fingers.

For how much he teases you about praising him, Venti’s never mentioned anything about playing his music to get rid of your nightmares. One time, when you were especially sick, you recall him singing a song in a language you didn’t recognise.

It was hauntingly beautiful, and so was the way he brushed his hand through your hair, too gentle compared to the demons you had to hunt down.

Xiao’s most unique feature had to be his wings; the same dark shade as his hair, dipped in streaks of teal.

During a quiet night, he’d told you they used to be white as snow and gilded with gold. But an angel that kills to protect is destined to fall from the clouds, shrouded by the ghosts of those they have slain.

You know there are others like him, but he says they’ve succumbed to corrosion. He is the only one left, and is one of the only demons you’ve met that hunt down their own species. In an effort to save him from his own corrosion, you’d made a pact with Xiao to link your life forces. 

Despite how he’d told you to leave him, his spirit still reached for yours—towards any form of light and warmth it could meet. Xiao still finds the marks of the pact distasteful, however, always glancing at the dark patterns now etched into your skin. You tell him it’s more reassuring than not, now that you can summon him with a call of his name.

If there’s one word to describe his powers, it’s destructive in every form of the word. Xiao leaves the battlefield entirely demolished after a fight. Sometimes he struggles to control his strength, but it’s been getting easier to do so with your presence to balance his. 

He prefers to throw himself in as the weapon. Which is why when you’re the one that gets injured this time around, all Xiao can do is panic. He holds you in his arms, frozen as he realizes he cannot help.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a serious wound. But after that, Xiao has been a lot more protective of you; almost hyper-aware.

“W—What are you doing, Xiao?” You flinch as he bites into your palm, drawing a small line of blood. 

Xiao hums. “Did you know that even using your blood, I can only heal you a limited amount with our pact?” Another bite, this time with his fangs, frustrated. “Keep that in mind the next time you plan on getting hurt.” You’re lucky the hospital could treat you this time around.

All Lyney knows is that he was reborn in a fire. At the back of his mind, he’s searching for his siblings—though he’s not sure where they are.

Like smoke filling a room, Lyney’s able to create illusions that trick all the senses. At your first meeting, he’d tried this on you; only for one of your protective amulets to diffuse his powers, revealing a larger demon he’d been working with that’d been ready to devour you. 

Suffice to say, Lyney was quick to switch sides once he noticed that you were winning. That, and the demon he was working with turned out to have lied about having a lead for him. After noticing your potential as a partner, he’d been quick to scout for your help.

He often uses his illusions to fool enemies into fighting one-another, redirecting their attention away—but after the pact, Lyney seems to lose his larger-than-life traits and falls into a casual routine with you. It makes you wonder if he’d been human before this, though sometimes he’s more cat-like than not.

If nothing else, he does like to put on a show when you’re faced with a battle. He makes your job easy, considering that your bond allows you to see past his illusions and maneuver around enemies, finding the perfect blind spots. Despite the oddity of your partnership, you start to enjoy the pattern of working with Lyney, from your smooth conversations to his smarts. 

One thing that does throw him off however, is when a demon you were trying to exorcize attempts to form a pact with you. Not that you can’t have multiple pacts at once, but it’s the first time you’ve seen Lyney openly aggressive towards an enemy, striking it with a sharp bolt of flame that diffuses it long enough for you to dispose of it.

With the threat gone, Lyney was quick to check on you, looking for any traces the other demon might’ve left behind. He calms down once he finds nothing, eyes widening when he realizes your faces are only inches apart.

“I…” He looks like he’s about to apologize, but decides against it. “Please don’t make a pact with anyone else. I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”

When you first met, Wanderer had tried to turn you into a puppet.

It was his power, after all—to attach strings onto any form and take control of them. These strings could be cut off, but it would only take so long for him to attach them again.

Most people don’t survive their encounters with him, but you’d managed to trap him into a pact right before things went dire. Now you could restrain his actions to a certain extent, though Wanderer would always push against your control, keeping you on your guard.

Many coworkers have told you to simply be rid of him—but just as you’d tricked Wanderer into a pact with you, he’s since linked your heart with his soul. That is to say, if he was exorcized, you’d be going down with him.

It’s a small relief to learn that Wanderer could also puppeteer other demons, thus you put him to work on the field by your side, turning into an unwilling duo. He has a habit of not doing anything unless you make it a ‘command’, leaning closer with a challenge in his eyes even as an enemy charged at the both of you. 

Then, with a snap of his fingers, they’d stop mid-air. As large as the pact's patterns are on your skin, you had to admit that Wanderer’s power was a deadly one.

You’ve always wondered why he had no reactions to injuries; no matter how serious, you’ve never seen Wanderer express pain. Much, much later into your partnership, you learn that he’s become numb to physical sensations a long time ago. And that him turning into a demon was a gift of reprieve more than not, as he’d destroyed and escaped from an experimental facility shortly after.

During a fight where you'd been affected by a tranquilising venom, Wanderer had been the one to save you; your eyes met briefly as you felt his strings take a hold of your form.

“Don't make me look bad now.” He'd said. “Just relax.” 

With not much of a choice, you allowed him to guide your movements. Somehow, it does feel different compared to your first encounter with his powers. With a push and pull between the strings, you could almost say it felt like a dance.

Were Wanderer's movements always this graceful?

Preorders for my wanderer fanbook and genshin letters are open! If you liked this, consider checking out the purple link on my pinned post!

[llamagoddessofficial]

Okay, but can you Aggre/ the cryptid boyfriends?

The boys are cryptids who live together for convenience's sake. Mc moves in with her three very normal, very Not Unusual roommates, who definitely are not at all strange or bizarre or dangerous.

Sans: A close friend of Mc's that used every trick in the book to slide into her life. He's good at studying people, good at mimicking acceptable behaviours- so good, in fact, that all of his slightly stranger qualities are passed off as just Sans being weird. One time he mistook a ketchup bottle for a drinking bottle, and downed the whole thing, but everyone just thought he was doing a bit so everyone just laughed. When he acts bizarre, it's simply Sans being Sans. The others could reveal they're cryptids and Mc would still think Sans was the odd one out.

He seems so normal, so funny. But he's been her cryptid for a long time, following her, absorbing her interests and tastes in partners to try and win her over. He's playing the long game- and it's working. He acts weird around her all the time and she's just accepted he's Like That. She's even somewhat honoured by the fact that he feels relaxed enough around her to be weird; he brings out the weirdness in her too. They're weird buddies.

He'd very casually tell her he can 'shapeshift'. But he'd be reluctant to show his true form- let alone reveal he's a cryptid.

Red: A serial flirt, popular and handsome, constantly out on the town. Unlike the other two, who need breaks every now and then, Red can hold a different form for days on end with only minor slip ups.

... Deep down, though, he's incredibly insecure about being a cryptid. He hates the way his cryptid body looks... the way it warps and frightens people, looking like he crawled right out of a nightmare, too much of some things and too little of others. 'Red' is his ideal body, a handsome badboy, the one who's surrounded by adoring humans. It's the only way he feels loveable.

He wants to be a person. He wants to be part of society, he wants to be loved like a human, that's why he constantly seeks out human flings and one night stands. To him, being in bed with someone signals that he's winning, and his act is convincing. He doesn't want Mc to ever know he's a cryptid, because in his eyes, nobody could ever love a thing like that.

Skull: He isn't good at acting like a person. He 'hides in his room' a lot, going out of his window at night to hunt and then returning to sleep through the day. At first, he just crushed on Mc from afar, silently following her around at night or peering through her window... but because of his feelings, because of her, he starts trying to be more humanoid.

He learns some words. He figures out how to eat human food. He practises 'smiling' in a mirror for hours, to make sure he doesn't look too frightening. And it can't be said that he isn't charming, a lot of his genuine struggles with acting like a person just come across as sweet-natured shyness or social anxiety. He pulls his hood over his face every time she smiles at him; a little because he's flustered, mostly because when he's flustered he loses control of his face and his features start shifting and melting in disturbing ways.

Mc likes him a lot. She's none the wiser that he's the reason she feels those chills running up her spine whenever she passes the woods.

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Companion piece to Idée Fixe.

(A journal entry that will never see the light of day, for it is meant to rot in darkness. Even the amoral owner is bound to agree with this).

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, Chrollo is creepy hooooly shit (he needs a hobby), and religious imagery. Word count: 1k.

I have become hopelessly smitten with a woman who is, for lack of a better word, strange. 

She tells me she’s “probably agnostic, because that word sounds cooler than atheist”, while often exemplifying the religious doctrine she grew up in. She condemns herself for qualities she’d pardon in others. She’ll get excited over the most mundane things, such as pigeons, or when her rewards add up enough to get her favorite drink for free. I’m allowed to steal a certain amount before she stares at me, not quite comfortable enough to express her dissatisfaction verbally, yet undoubtedly pondering the perfect string of words to avoid offending me. 

The extent of her consideration for others is perplexing. There is no advantage to be gained by placating strangers, though her insistence on the matter would almost convince you otherwise. She never says “you’re welcome”, it’s always “of course”, as if the act of going so far out of her way is expected of her. If not that phrase, she’ll say “it’s no problem”, on the off chance the individual may think they burdened her. 

She’s strange, yes, but we’re alike in many ways, so I wonder what that’d make me. 

I’ve taken on innumerable roles throughout the years. I know how to judge the weight of my every word. My motivation for doing so is self-serving in nature. People, to me, are locks that require the right combination to crack. From what I can tell, she’s come to realize this too. Instead of pursuing this advantage, she shies away from it. Originally, I thought it was nothing more than people-pleasing, but it goes beyond that. She loves humanity, the same humanity I deem worthless. It’d be easier for me to understand if there was an ulterior motive. Alas, that'd be doing her a major injustice.

My initial intrigue in her was nothing more than a passing fancy. I had time to pass, and she just happened to be in the vicinity, reading a book I’m partial to. I thought I’d give her a few minutes of my time and then be on my way. Presently, however, If I believed in fate, I’d go so far as to say our paths were destined to cross. She is every part of myself that has died a slow death. Optimism, empathy, passion… they mix together to form the essence of her being. 

I didn’t intend to give her so much of my time. She became indispensable to me before I realized what was happening. In retrospect, perhaps I knew deep down that this was the type of person I’d been looking for. Someone I’d struggle between wanting to ruin or preserve. I erred toward the former at first. If I didn’t wake her from her naïve reverie, another would inevitably come down the line and do it themselves. The mere concept was unforgivable. 

As time passed, it became clear she wasn’t living in a dreamlike state, but was perfectly aware of her surroundings and the people who inhabit them. This left me at an impasse. How do you destroy someone who has already annihilated and rebuilt themselves? There are ways, yes, yet no longer did the idea appeal to me. I wanted something new from her, though the specifics alluded me. What I did know, however, was that this strange woman would touch many lives for the better. 

This was a constant torment. I’d have to go about my business, knowing full well she’s making others smile, laugh, and otherwise brightening their day elsewhere. My chest would become impossibly tight whenever I fixated on this. She holds qualities people are inevitably drawn to. She is radiance incarnate, so easy to adore. A light like that is visible far and wide.

When I pressed back against her dearly held beliefs, instead of fading, she burned ever brighter.

I know she feels it too — this invisible rope that binds us. She’ll happily talk to me for hours, even when I forgo superficial charm and express slivers of my depravity. She sees it, acknowledges it, and seeks me out all the same. I find myself talking more than I meant to when she’s around. She challenges me, interestingly enough. Her arguments often have holes and aren’t by any means polished, but she cuts to the heart of things. 

She is my personal torment. I want every inch of her for myself. Her unique mind, heart, soul… would it be enough? Could I stop there? Or would I keep going, taking more and more, until we were essentially one flesh? 

It’s by her recommendation I’m writing any of this down. She said “I am in desperate need of intensive therapy” and sent some links to her recommendations. I’m inclined to give in to her requests since she asks for so little, but that might be the one I have to refuse. I cannot recall the last time I met someone this amusing, if ever. The inner workings of her pretty little head are a mystery I long to unravel.

Displeased as I am to admit it, a day will pass when she no longer looks at me the way she does now. My true identity can’t go unknown forever, the revelation is inevitable. Still, I won’t let her go. My grip will only grow tighter. If her ire is my penance for possessing her entirely, then I’ll accept the sentence and chip away at it over time. Emotions are transient. With the right encouragement, I can guide her back to my arms, even if she considers the embrace a scourge. 

When we first met, she said something that has taken permanent residence in my mind. 

“So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.” 

This was always bound to be my benediction and her condemnation. 

From that moment onward, her life was mine to do with as I please. There are many far more worthy of her than I, which is why I’ll never give them the chance. I’ll deprive the world of her vibrancy. It could become engulfed in eternal darkness, and still, I’d happily refuse to give her back. Let them lament, weep, and gnash their teeth.

In my youth, I set out to be the greatest villain. Never have I been more willing to carry out the actions befitting such a lofty title. 

This is the curse of a wicked man’s love, [First] [Last]. Revisit your religion and pray fervently. For only a god could save you from the future I’ve planned for us. 

[thicctails]

Gravity Falls is finally popping off again, so naturally my obsession with it has been dragged out from deep within me and thrust to the front of my mind, so here's a collection of various au ideas i have.

Explanations below! Contains Book of Bill Spoilers!!

A different form, a different time: Due to a widescale time and space fuck up, both Bill Cipher and the Axolotl get reincarnated (temporarily?) as humans. Specifically as older teens/very young adults. Hot topic wannabe and pink gumball son of a bitch must learn to navigate the hell that is mortality and human puberty as they set out on a road trip to try and reach the only place they can think of to find answers: Gravity Falls.

Obligatory dragon au: exactly what it says on the tin.

Time Stuck... with a twist: Something goes horribly wrong with the Time tape, resulting in Mabel, Dipper, and a 12 year old Billy Cipher being sent to the 80's. Trapped in the past/future, depending on who you ask, the preteens end up on the run with a mullet-wearing grifter with a familiar face, and must learn to work together to set things right. However, having two Bills' will make things much harder than usual, especially since one absolutely adores his star-marked humans and their weird Larger Human, while the other wants nothing more than to watch them burn.

Monster Falls but they're both Unitaurs: Mabel and Dipper are twins, let them be the same monster you cowards.

Under the Falls: This is one of my older ones! Its a strange little mer! au, where a younger Stan and Ford must take in their niblings after a monster hunter slaughters the rest of their family. Baby mers cant disguise themselves, so they must stay in the nearby lake. Luckily, their cat-eyed deer friend is more than happy to keep them company, and take them on Non-Grunkle-Approved adventures.

I Grow Maddened (From Grief): In the Book of Bill, we learn that Mabel and Dipper don't make it to 13 in pretty much every other timeline. Now, Bill 100% could be bullshitting, but i like to think thats its at least partially true: Dippers and Mabels don't tend to last in the Multiverse. But what about their Grunkles? Surely there are quite a few timelines where one set of twins is left to mourn the other.

This au follows a Ford that lost his Dipper and Mabel to a dangerous creature that escaped confinement while he was distracted by his work. It managed to also near fatally wound Stanley and nearly take one of Ford's eyes before he managed to kill it, leaving him with two dead family members and his twin on the brink. Consumed by guilt and refusal to live in a world without his beloved niblings, Ford set Stanley up on cryogenic life support and managed to lie his way into more time by convincing the twin's parents that both of them would be more successful under his tutelage.

Once everything was in place, he threw himself back into the multiverse (this time with a way back) and began hopping through other timelines, looking for the perfect replacements for his missing family. Man spirals hard, eventually deciding that the twins, when he gets them back, would not be leaving his and Stanley's sides again, because his twin is also not leaving. After all, their parents clearly dont value them like they should, and Ford knows that it will be easy to remove any memory of the twins all together.

Euclid + Scalene live (and get better children): Somehow spared from the genocide of their entire dimension, the deeply wounded Cipher parents eventually find themselves inexplicably drawn to a little backwater planet. The two find themselves becoming attached to a pair of twins that seem blessed by the Axolotl itself, and although their last child had caused violence on a previously unseen scale, both Euclidians find that they want to try again. The Ciphers become mostly unseen guardians to the little Pines, content to simply watch over them and bring them sweet dreams while they struggle to hold themselves together.

Then Bill shows up, and everything goes to shit.

[winged-self-indulgence]

Dearly beloved we are gathered here today to honour @queeniesblog, who enables the demon living rent free in my brain. Consider this an early-early-early gift. 1.9K words, AFAB!MC, Favor VN wedding night DLC lmao

Z insists on carrying you across the threshold. You’re not even sure where he heard about the tradition, antiquated as it was. Perhaps the demon had overheard one of your more imaginative bridesmaids daydreaming about it, or maybe Z had crashed some medieval wedding in Europe and liked the idea of tossing his chosen human over his shoulder and making off with them like a beast out of the darkest folktales. You hadn’t been able to get a straight answer out of the demon, which was such a common occurrence you wondered why you'd even tried in the first place.

“You only had to carry me into the house,” you roll your eyes, wrapping your arms tighter around Z’s broad shoulders. “Not all the way from the wedding venue. I didn’t have to be in your lap for the whole trip.”

He’s partly shifted, the transformation dial swinging somewhere between the mostly human veneer you met them as and the massive abyssal creature you’ve only seen when the demon slips into your dreams. Even then, the shape was unclear, leaving only the vague sense of being utterly dwarfed by a thing so far beyond human comprehension that your brain struggled to put the separate pieces together.

This form is easier to perceive. At the very least, the 7ft 5” frame didn’t make your brain struggle with the wretchedness of the chthonic depths.

Z’s arms tighten around your frame, tar-drenched hands sliding over the pearl-studded filigree of your snow-white gown – their idea of a joke – to squeeze the plush underside of your thighs.

“And let those weaklings doubt my claim over you?” Z’s lips pull down into an exaggerated moue of distaste. “Perish the thought, Dove. Besides, you were the one who vetoed the other ritual–”

“I’m not letting you fuck me in front of your entire court!” You cut him off, face hot with what you are choosing to label as pure mortification. The lascivious flash of Z’s teeth tells you otherwise and you do your best to glare right back. “It’s not happening, you horndog!”

“Mm, I don’t know sweetheart,” Z murmurs and holds you closer, pulling you flush against his frame. Curved fangs nudge at your throat, exerting a sharp pressure through the delicate collar wrapped around vulnerable flesh. It’s a heady reminder. It is also a delicious threat. You shudder, a breath hitching somewhere in your chest, and the demon laughs at the sound, breath hot against your skin and sending another shiver down your spine. “I bet I could figure out some way to convince you.”

As soon as the door to the bedroom opens, Z’s lips are on yours. The kiss is fervent, devouring, an arrogant forked tongue pressing into your mouth with intent that has you squirming in place. Your own hormones and the weight of his huge frame pin you to the bed while rough hands roam over your body, greedy and insatiable, the demon unable to control the sheer voracity of their appetite for you. They caress the shape of your body through your clothes, groping with palms that feel burning hot even through layers of beading and silk.

Their tongue traces a slick trail up to the sensitive skin behind your ear. The jagged pinch of canines against the helix of your ear has you choking back a desperate whimper, and the demon retracts long enough to click his teeth. “Nuh-uh. Whine for me, baby. I wanna hear every sound out of that pretty little mouth.”

The next bite is far less gentle, and the wordless cry that falls from your lips burns your cheeks. You want to retaliate somehow, but Z’s tail is infuriatingly out of reach, lashing back and forth behind the demon’s back in a manner that betrays their obvious excitement.

“There’s my Dove,” Z coos against your lips, smirking at your overheated expression. “Poor thing, you must be so uncomfortable in all those layers, darling. Here, let me help you get those pesky clothes off.”

A hand grabs the front of your strapless dress and yanks, filling the room with the sound of tearing fabric. Before you can open your mouth complain, Z’s mouth is on your exposed breasts, and your mind instantly goes blank. Your back arched, head falling back against the pillow as the demon laves his tongue over your nipples, drawing them deep into mouth and sucking as though by sheer dedication he can force your tits to grow swollen with milk.

Muscular arms reach down to hitch your hips around Z’s waist. It’s a stretch in this form, huge as he is, and your thighs split embarrassingly wide. You gasp, feeling the solid weight of his bulge prodding against your barely clothed cunt and you can’t stop yourself from pushing harder against the thick length. The lingerie you’d worn for your wedding night was designed more for form than actual function, hardly more than a few thin pieces of pearl-white lace held together by thinner ribbons. A single tug from your fingers would send it fluttering to pieces.

Already sheer enough to narrowly fit the definition of underwear, your juices have turned the fabric nearly transparent, moulding it against the lips of your pussy. In the face of that, Z’s cock seems like overkill – prominent veins grinding back into the motion of your hips with enough force to knock the breath from you.

“Look at you, getting my cock all nice and slick,” Z groans into your ear, an arm hiking your left leg higher while the other pinches your chin and drags your face to meet his fiery gaze. “Fuck, you’re drenched baby. Such a needy hole, huh?”

“Z!” You spit out the demon’s name, fed up with their teasing. “I need–! Just put it in already!”

“Put what in?” He taunts, blinking those amber eyes innocently while a fat glob of precum pools at the tip of his cock. You feel the obscene warmth when it reaches the sodden cloth barely protecting what’s left of your chastity. You open your mouth to repeat your demands, but another jerk of Z’s hips has you whining again. When he speaks again, his voice drips with false regret. “Whoops, I’m so sorry Dove, I didn’t mean to. Come on, use your words baby. I’m listening. Where exactly do you want me to put my cock?”

“I-Inside,” you gasp, struggling to hook your ankles at Z’s back so you can draw the demon closer to you. “Please, I need you inside!”

“Then get those pretty panties off, Dove,” Z pushes themselves up, taking the weight off their arms and off you. The sudden change fills you with a strange sense of loss, until you lift your head and find the demon still looming over your, eyes still fixed on your debauched state with terrifying intensity. It’s inhuman; a flat, hungry stare that promises to swallow you whole – bones and all.

A hand is wrapped around their cock, rhythmically squeezing dark flesh up and down and occasionally pausing to thumb the bulbous tip that oozes sticky precum. The sight makes your mouth water, until Z lets out a dark chuckle.

“Dove,” he croons, hand never stopping or slowing down, “you know how impatient I can be. Unless you want me to shove my cock down your throat instead of that pretty little cunt, I’d advise you to stop looking at me like that.”

Huffing, you manage to tear your eyes away and focus on reaching for your underwear. It’s practically tissue at this point, scarcely more than scraps clinging to your cunt, and yet the act of peeling them away feels somehow obscene. Instinctively, you try to inch your legs shut, but a large hand catches you by the ankle and drags you into the embrace of an inferno.

You catch yourself against Z’s broad chest, yelping when you find yourself back in a variant of your earlier pose – this time balanced upright in the demon’s lap instead of pinned prone on the bed. Z’s cock finds itself back against your pussy lips, this time without even the minuscule protection of your underwear. A glance down reveals the sheer difference in size between the two of you, his cockhead reaching beyond your navel.

“You can take it, honey,” Z hums, reaching down to press two fingers through your slick folds. The stretch has you gasping his name, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders as your pussy squeezes around Z’s pointer and middle digits. He stretches you out, whispering filth into your ear while he fondles you with a teasingly condescending sort of affection. “Aw, is it too much for you, pet? You can handle a little more for me, can’t you? Oh no, no, no, don’t you dare hide your face from me, darling. You’re so cute when you cry. That’s it, give it to me.”

Z jams his thumb against your clit, curling his fingers at the same time. Your vision goes white, blurry with tears, as you careen into an orgasm so intense that you swear you see entire galaxies spinning before you. When you manage to come back to yourself, the head of his cock his lined up with your hole. A pleading moan is all the acquiescence Z requires before it pops in, and you scramble to cling to your sanity.

The stretch burns, a pleasurable heat that arches your back and forces another inch of Z’s cock into your cunt. “Shit,” the demon curses, an arm holding up your weight and the talons of the other gripping the mattress below in a concerted effort to hold back as best he can. “Fuck don’t do that, Dove. So goddamn tight, you’ll make me come if you don’t stop squeezing me like that.”

“Feels too good,” you moan back, fighting the urge to obey gravity and sink down onto the girth splitting you open. Only Z’s grip on your waist prevents that from happening, and it’s your turn to grow impatient. “You said I could have anything as long as I asked. Are you going to deny me on our wedding night?”

“Hm, I see someone’s grown spoiled,” Z smirks down at you, unmoving despite the flush high on his cheeks. Behind him, his tail thrashes back and forth, belying his smug words. “Ask me nicely pet.”

You barely refrain from rolling your eyes, before biting back a sardonic look of your own. Leaning closer, you force yourself to balance on your knees – dislodging Z’s cock completely, causing him to curse under his breath – and press your lips to his ear.

“Pretty please, oh Great Marquis, won’t you please come inside my cunt?” You whine in the most breathy, put-upon, amateur porno actress voice you can muster. “I’m so wet for you, and I need you to shove your fat cock into my tiny little pussy and fill me up so much that I can’t even stand. Please Z, please fuck my wet little – ah!”

“Be careful what you ask for,” Z hissed, spearing you on his cock. Once again, your world vanishes, reduced to nothing else beyond broken moans and the burning pleasure of Z’s swollen cock abusing your aching cunt. “Don’t worry, Dove, I’ll make it up to you. Since you want my come so badly, I’ll make sure to fuck you niiiice and full. After all, we have all the time in the world…”

[starleska]

The Spot x Reader headcanons

just some ideas exploring The Spot as a character and how he may be with a significant other 👀 content warnings for bullying, harassment, possessive/yandere behaviour, and weird Eldritch portal-murder.

⚫ despite The Spot’s obvious ego, he struggles to believe you find him attractive. when you first meet he’s in something of a transformative period: volleying between being in awe at the power of his new physical form, and caving in to the abuse he’s received from friends, family and strangers for how he looks. The Spot rambles to you in a half-nervous, half-manic sort of way about the quirks of his bodies: how his spots fizz when he’s angry and feel like heartburn; how his blank-coloured skin stretches over his skeleton like too-tight rubber; how he isn’t even sure if he has a skeleton anymore. he’s convinced that you’re waiting for him to ‘turn back to normal’ - or, in the suspicious part of his mind, that you have an ulterior motive for getting close. it takes a while for The Spot to notice how blown your pupils become when he looms over you, or how your breath quickens when he says something equal parts charming and devious. but once he’s aware that you truly are captivated by him as The Spot...the power goes quite to his head 😉

⚫ The Spot is hesitant about physical contact at first, but once he knows you’re not a threat, he melts. understanding The Spot’s body was difficult at the start: one time, you tried to hold his hand, but accidentally stuck your fingers through a portal on his wrist and punched him where his nose should be. yet you soon learn to be careful, and with time, The Spot stops flinching away when you rest your palm on top of his, or gently cup his cheek. his skin has a smooth, dolphin-like quality: dry yet slippery like linoleum. you know you’re doing things right because The Spot is a vocal man: he voices his content audibly, with a pleased sigh when you nuzzle into his neck, and a gentle hum when he wraps his long arm around you and pulls you against his chest. when it finally clicks that you want him, The Spot can’t enough of you. he’s forever touching you on the arm, the waist, even the lips. it’s as if now his original form is gone, he can’t get enough of your physical humanity 🖤

⚫ becoming intimate with The Spot does your social life no favours, which makes him fiercely protective of you. it’s no wonder that the two of you found such common ground: you’ve been victim to your own share of bullying and trauma, and feel for The Spot’s plight, having had his whole life wrenched away from him without so much as a sympathetic ear. one day, you’re cornered by several locals who start berating you for being a ‘freak-lover’. they shove you to the ground and tell you to get out of town, and to take that ‘mutant’ with you. but before you can open your mouth to reply, portals open up underneath each your would-be attackers and swallows them up to the shoulders, keeping them pinioned in a kind of trans-dimensional bondage. 

The Spot pops through a hole in the sky and rushes to you, checking you for injury and asking, “Did they hurt you?” when you say no, but tell them what did transpire, you watch a ‘frown’ crease the upper half of the hole in his face. he turns away, and strolls over to his new captives, his demeanour languid and cocky. 

“Thought you could get away with this, huh?” The Spot asks. a chill thrills up your spine: his voice is two-toned, with something much darker belying his usual sweet tone. the captives are too terrified to reply. 

“Don’t bother,” he continues. “You’re just going to waste your breath. How about I do you a favour and...”

he raises one hand, and splits his index and middle fingers apart, like a pair of scissors.

“...cut things short?”

with a violent snap, The Spot snips his fingers together. the portals close in a sickening crunch, and you watch as the limp, lifeless bodies of your attackers slip through the open holes, and disappear into nothingness.  

[bachissidehoe]

𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆 [𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲!𝗔𝗸𝘂𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗮𝘄𝗮 𝘅 𝗰𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝘆𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗱!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿]

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: 𝗮 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗰𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿

𝘄.𝗰. 𝟮𝟬𝟲𝟲

Y/n has been told countless times that the longer she resists her heats, the more intense they’ll become. Hybrids are still a fairly new species to enter the living world (they’ve existed of course, but have been hidden from civilization), so there still isn’t enough research to understand how they’re biologically different from humans, and how to treat them.

One of these blatant phenomena that are not well understood are, in fact, their heats. The only thing y/n can do since she started getting them is listen to the advice of other hybrids- no medications, no treatments, the only options she has are to find someone to help her take care of it, or to tough it out. For years, her choice had been to tough it out.

After all, what else is she supposed to do? Though hybrids have joined civilization, they aren’t exactly well understood or accepted. Plus, only female hybrids exist, so it’s not like y/n can proposition a male of her kind to help her relieve some of these symptoms.

And fuck, the symptoms. Instability, heavy breathing, the throbbing in her thighs and lower region, constant arousal, headaches, trouble eating and sleeping- the list goes on. With every heat, it’s gotten more intense, demanding of her attention, and much longer. At first, it would only be bad for a couple of hours, but now, it’s been days of suffering. Closing in on a week. It’s getting more and more impossible to wait it out in her room alone. Nothing helps, nothing even provides a few minutes of relief anymore.

Which is where she finds herself now, mindlessly wandering through back alleys in the pouring rain, hoping that some form of fresh air, a sensation that isn’t just an overwhelming desire to be bred, will be enough to convince her body that it’s done with this and just give up.

But then what? What about next time it happens?

“Ughhhh…” she sighs, groaning at the muddy path as she shakily walks. Her long, usually fluffy cat tail hangs between her legs, soaking wet. In fact, her entire body is soaked from ear to toe, almost matching the way her panties have felt all week.

Her catlike reflexes are slowed, so slowed that she can’t even react in time when she feels the presence of another person creeping closer to her. Her soppy cat ears twitch, but she can’t react at all, only turning her head in time to see a pair of glowing red eyes charging toward her, forcing her into the back of a building at top speed.

She can’t fight, not in this state. She can only mewl and whine, taking in the choppy, blurry scene of a figure- a man- towering over her, forcing her head to the side as he holds her frail body against the brick wall, his sharp fangs jutting out from his open mouth.

Actually, this isn’t a man at all. This is a vampire.

In that moment, y/n ponders the idea that it won’t be so bad to die, as long as he kills her instead of turning her into a vampire herself. Who knows if she’ll still be in heat as a vampire, she’d rather die than continue to experience this.

But in the immediate next moment, she feels just a slight touch from the prominent bulge in the vampire’s pants pressed against her body, enough to send a shiver down her spine. That sensation is enough for her brain to conjure up a different perspective. She needs it. More than life, more than death.

“Wait! Vampire-“ she whines, making a brief attempt to struggle as she sees his sharp teeth closing in on her. It’s dark out, but those eyes of his nearly blind her. “Please- I can offer you my blood, don’t kill me!” She rushes through the words, hoping it gives her enough time.

To her surprise, the vampire pulls his head back, but doesn’t release his grip on her. His legs still hold her in place, which means that bulge in his crotch does too.

She gulps. “I can give you my blood- whenever you want!”

It’s well known that vampires struggle to keep a healthy supply of blood, forcing them to often kill for it instead. Some vampires hire blood donors, but human donors tend not to be able to keep up with the demands, meaning they often end up dying as well. Hybrids, however, don’t have that problem, as they’re often much stronger and capable than humans. To vampires, hybrid blood is the most valuable.

“I just ask- that you don’t kill me. Please, fuck me instead and you can drink from me whenever you want!” She whines.

The vampire pauses. “What.” He says, his glowing eyes fading into a gray color, his fangs disappearing back into his mouth.

Apparently, her request was shocking enough that the vampire lost his hostility.

“I’ll live with you, I’ll, mmmh~” she moans, his body against hers still causing her heat symptoms to reach overdrive. “I just need it so bad, please.” She begs.

“Oh. I see.” The vampire holds his position. “You’re a hybrid. What a good find.”

Vampires and hybrids don’t often encounter each other, especially since vampires operate at night, while hybrids operate during the day. It’s quite rare for a hybrid like y/n to be exploring the dangerous city streets at night.

“Please, fuck me, and I’ll let you drink however-“

“Shh.” The vampire places a finger over her mouth. Another shock wave radiates through her body. “You know how loud you’re being?” He scolds her.

Now that her cat eyes have adjusted to the darkness, she can fully process that this vampire- is gorgeous. A young man with long black hair, silver at the ends, wearing a long black trench coat. And his body, his hands- she can’t help but writhe against him, her hips jutting into him on their own.

“I need~” She whines, quieter this time, pathetically pleading with him to at least consider her proposition.

“Come with me.” He turns around, completely releasing contact, much to y/n’s dismay. And he starts walking away, his hands behind his back.

She stands, confused.

“I said, follow me.” He says again, more sternly this time.

“O-okay.” She obeys, shakily walking behind him like a prisoner, her legs trodding through the mud even though at this point it’s hard for her to walk at all.

She follows him to a mansion, her entire body trembling and shaking the entire walk there. All the while, she missed his touch. The only thing she could think about was how beautiful he is, how badly she wants him to touch her again.

“You are in heat so bad I’m surprised I couldn’t smell it over the rain. No wonder I subconsciously ended up in that very spot.” He speaks, leading her into a large bedroom. But he sounds like he’s just talking to himself.

“Thank you for not killing me, um, sir-“

“It’s Akutagawa.”

“Akutagawa.” She repeats, her soaking wet clothes still sloshing as she rocks back and forth. It’s enough for her tired body to even stand at this point.

“Now, you needed something from me?” He asks stepping toward her again.

His voice sounds angry, perhaps he brought her here to kill her after all.

“Um…”

“Something about me taking your blood as long as I- hm what was it?”

Y/n swears she can see the beginnings of a smirk on his lips.

“Fuck me.” She says.

“Oh, right, that was it.” He lunges forward, using his speed to push her into the bed before she even realizes. And in seconds, her wet clothes are discarded off to the side. “You’re actually a pretty kitty.” He says, sliding her panties down her thighs.

“Please~” She whines again. She can feel the juices coating her thighs, the cool air of the room making it even more obvious to her how badly she needs him.

“Needy kitty.” He slides a pale finger between her thighs, swiping through the wetness.

“Ah~!” She yelps, her body writhing from only a touch.

He stands back up, leaving her whining and pleading with a flush across her cheeks.

“Win-win for me. I’ll accept your proposition.” He sounds like he’s annoyed about it, like it’s such a hassle for him. But he undresses anyway, peeling his wet clothes off his body to reveal his gorgeous figure- and his hard, thick cock.

No wonder y/n could feel his soft bulge so prominently against that wall. She gulps.

Before she can process it, Akutagawa lurches forward, easily handling her weak body like she’s just a doll. She may as well be- she would be for him.

“That’s it, you’ll sit right here.” He coaxes her onto his needy cock, her back pressed against his pale chest.

She can’t help but moan aloud, nearly screaming from the relief washing over her.

“Quiet, cat.” He wraps his arm around her, covering her mouth with his hand, forcing her to mumble to herself as she slides down onto his thick shaft.

Her eyes roll back into her head, her breaths choppy as she chokes on her own moans. It’s like her body was created for this vampire, the way she molds her walls to the shape of his cock.

He uses his forceful hand over her mouth to tilt her head to the side, unapologetically plunging his fangs deep into her neck.

She whines, it hurts. But it hurts good.

Blood trickles down her shoulder and chest as he drinks his fill, letting her rock her hips into his twitching cock. Her ears remain limp against her hair, her soft tail resting against his chest as if she can trust him. But it’s too good, he’s filling her and taking from her at the same time.

Her mind goes blank as her vision gets blurry, light spots cascading through her sight as she holds onto consciousness. She can hear him sucking her neck, the gory sounds of her blood squishing, the beautiful noises of him swallowing gulp after gulp, his hot breath tickling her open wounds.

“Ah, mmmh~ !” She’s suddenly overcome with a different kind of pleasure the aphrodisiac of his teeth plunged through her skin finally overwhelming her senses. Her soaking pussy squeezes around him, flooding his shaft with her fluids as she cums, hard.

Her writhing causes him to cut her deeper, his teeth sliding through her skin, her blood splattering onto the sheets.

She shakes, her body unable to stay upright as the blood continues to spill, almost too much for her to remain conscious.

He finally releases his teeth, removing his hand from her mouth to place both on her hips. Blood covers his face and chin, but he peppers light kisses on her back anyway, leaving bloody little lip marks all over her.

“Gonna~” He grunts, sliding her barely conscious body up and down his twitching shaft. “Feel so much better…” He moans, her blood in his system making him even more powerful.

He can fuck her even harder now that he’s had his fill, bouncing her with a speed that may split her body in two.

She lets out repeated gasps, her eyes blurred with tears as she continues to fight for consciousness. She can only mewl and whine incoherent cat noises while he relentlessly pounds into her.

“Fuck-“ He spits, suddenly filling her tight little hole with a thick load of his white hot cum.

She feels instant relief, the feeling of being so full sending her hurdling toward a second orgasm herself, the feeling taking over her entire body.

And everything goes dark.

+++++

“Cat. You’re awake.” Akutagawa finally rips her out of her unconscious state. “Good. Thought I killed you.”

She blinks a few times, noticing she’s still on that same bed, lying comfortably on her back with a clean blanket over her still naked body.

“I cleaned you up. But you lost a lot of blood, so we’ll have to work on that.” He hovers over her, a few specs of blood still seen decorating the corners of his lips.

She grumbles. She feels so much better. “I can stay?” She rasps.

He nods. “Don’t get upset if I accidentally kill you.”

That statement should terrify her, but instead, her heart lurches with excitement.

[icallhimjoey]

Only Now

♥ ♥          Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Eddie needs Hawkins, needs his old friends, needs you to ground him every couple of months. And so he visits for a few days in the middle of December and lets all of you pretend you're momentarily back in '88, and it's beautiful, but it hurts. A lot.

Author’s note: Christmas came early @joejoequinnquinn! Surprise! This one's just for you as part of @quinnyfairy's Secret Santa Project; my very first (and maybe last, idk) Eddie fic ever. Hope you enjoy!!

CW / disclaimer: 18+, angsty, swearing (lots), drinking, little smutty sort of, reader celebrates Christmas (some form of it anyway) and also my very first time writing for Eddie so please bear with!

Wordcount: 9.5K

(find all other parts of this story here) God, how you wished you could slow down time. You wanted longer minutes, longer hours. Slower ticking clocks. Maybe even freeze time all together, just so you could relish his company for longer. It felt like the minutes were slipping by in record time and sleeping through them only sped them up even more. So, you laid awake instead, and mentally willed the stretch between each tick of your clock to lengthen as you stared at Eddie next to you.

You were trying to stay quiet. Not let Eddie hear you cry, because you knew if he did, he’d shake his sleep off of him and wouldn’t be able to get back to it. It was only quarter past two, which was far too many hours ‘til morning still, and Eddie needed his sleep. This was likely the last night he'd sleep in an actual bed; for the next few weeks it'd be bunkbeds on buses and couches in dressing rooms.

He looked so soft with his hair braided up and out of his face, still wet from when he’d let you wash it hours earlier. How could you not cry at the sheer sight of him? He’d never let anyone else see him like this, you knew it to be true, and those soft noises he made? The grunts, mumbles and groans his sleep let escape him? Just for you, you were convinced.

You felt a fresh tear roll over the bridge of your nose, and there was no point in wiping it away. You knew it would find your pillow or your covers to disappear into. This was exactly what Steve had warned you about, countless times. He’d said he wouldn’t allow you to slip back and do this all over again, not after the last time, but when Eddie arrived three days ago, you’d seen Steve struggle with the same inner battle. He’d missed Eddie just as much and just as easily would let himself transport back to ’87, ’88.

“He’s here!” Steve had gotten up from the picnic table you’d both been sat on outside of your apartment building as you’d waited for Eddie. Butts perched up on the tabletop, feet on the wooden bench below you, up and away from the cold ground below it, you’d been chatting, and Steve had tried to talk some sense into you before Eddie’s taxi had pulled up.

“I know you think he needs it, but ultimately, you know you shouldn’t let him,” Steve had said, placing blame with you. You shouldn’t let him. Not, Eddie shouldn’t do this.

“I know,” you agreed, but you were the one thinking all your thoughts, feeling all your feelings. Not Steve. You knew very well that you shouldn’t let Eddie come into your world and pretend you were still twenty and fresh-faced for a few days before he’d fuck off and leave you again. But what was the alternative? Have none of Eddie at all? That option seemed much worse.

“I know you know, but it’d be great if you made smart choices. Smarter choices.” Steve referenced the last time Eddie had been in town. He had visited Hawkins for six days last May, and for weeks afterwards, Steve had been busy picking up the pieces of you that you didn’t seem to be able to hold onto yourself. He had to put real effort in to put you back together, slowly but surely, until you felt like a human being again.

Steve was a good friend. It was because Steve also missed Eddie a lot, so he understood on another level, but it also meant he let his mind get cloudy when Eddie was around. Neither of you were part of Eddie’s life anymore, not like you were before he’d left, and neither of you liked that. The three of you had almost joined at the hip, and whenever Steve would hang out with Robin, you and Eddie would play house. Eddie was your not-boyfriend, and you were his not-girlfriend. For all intends and purposes, you were absolutely dating each other. But if someone asked if Eddie was your boyfriend, or if you were his girlfriend, you’d always say no. No. You were just friends. Except you weren’t. But you were.

Now, you were pieces of the puzzle of Hawkins to him, the place he would come back to every couple of months when he’d find the time in between tours. Eddie needed the place to ground himself, to feel like the person he felt he still was on the inside. He would keep that Eddie in his own pocket, but he would always lose that version of himself on stage after doing a few shows. He wouldn’t realise he’d gone missing until he’d smash another TV in a hotel room with strangers who pretended to be his friends, and girls who were only there because he was the Eddie Munson, front man to famous metal band Corroded Coffin. That’s when he’d call Wayne and he would tell him to let everyone know he’d be coming down soon. Make sure Hawkins was ready for him. Lay the red carpets out. And Wayne would chuckle, and then he’d just tell the two of you.

"Munson!" Steve called out as he walked towards the taxi that Eddie had just opened the door of, his arms already opening.

"Harrington!" Eddie called back in the same tone once he stepped out and saw Steve.

Eddie looked absolutely horrible. Like he hadn't stopped continuously drinking and hadn't slept for days. But he smiled, and when Steve jumped him, he hugged him back with strong arms and patting hands.

"Jesus, you smell like the floor of a dive bar," Steve said, and it made Eddie throw his head back with laughter.

They broke into a playful scuffle, half wrestling, half still hugging, poking fingers at each other like teenage boys who didn't know how else to express affection. Their grunting and laughing reached your ears and made you smile. You stayed put, sat on your hands on the picnic table still, not wanting to intrude on their moment together, until Eddie caught your eye over Steve's shoulder.

"You," Eddie pointed, and you saw the glint in his eyes change. Eddie looked at you different, and it made the words Steve had tried so hard to imprint onto you immediately disappear. Eddie was here. And he was looking at you.

"Get your ass over here," Eddie beckoned with wild arms as he started walking towards you himself, leaving Steve to take Eddie's duffle bag from the taxi driver.

You pushed yourself from the bench, and took small steps, but stopped when Eddie started running and looked at you the same way he had looked at Steve when he'd started wrestling him. Full puppy dog energy. You let him crash into you, lift you from your feet and swing you around, legs flailing and voice squealing. Steve was right. Eddie smelled like he'd washed his hair with beer a couple days ago and hadn't touched it since.

"Missed you," Eddie spoke into your hair before planting a kiss there and putting you down. Missed you more, you thought, but couldn't say it. You took a minute to look at him, still in his grip. Eddie looked older, like he had aged twice as fast as you had. There were more lines on his face and his eyes sat a little deeper. His hair lacked shine and his scruff eyed unruly. You wondered how long ago it was since Eddie had eaten a vegetable.

"How long are you staying for?" you asked before saying anything else. Please stay for Christmas, you thought. Please.

"Just a few days," Eddie said, and it pained you that he said it like it was good news. Like he couldn't actually wait to get out of here again. Like that didn't absolutely wreck you.

"Let's head inside, it's fucking freezing," Steve walked past you and broke your moment with Eddie, slinging a protective arm around your shoulder, ensuring that you fell into step together as you made your way inside. You feared you'd shown too much in your face. Things that Steve had definitely spotted, but somehow, Eddie hadn't.

You headed up to Steve's apartment together, Steve decided. In the elevator, Steve pressed the button for his floor, not yours, and the second of quick eye contact between the two of you said enough. Once inside, Eddie immediately asked if it was okay for him to take a quick shower. You know, because he'd been traveling so long, Eddie said. Not because the stench of alcohol really had almost become too overwhelming in the small space of the elevator, and Eddie realised just then how clean and healthy you and Steve looked compared to him, all flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and plump skin.

When Eddie locked the door behind him, you caught your reflection in Steve's hallway mirror and immediately regained your composure; you stood up straight, pulled your shoulders back and relaxed your brow. Eddie was here. You were going to have fun together. Even if it was just for a few days. Maybe even more so because of it, because now it was extra important to make every second count.

"You okay?" Steve saw. You smiled and said you were. Eddie was here now. You did a good job pushing all sadness aside and told it to not pop back up until later. Sometime after Christmas maybe. You could deal with it then. Steve accepted your smile, happy to see you still had it ready for him, but he worried about you anyway.

"Where is he?"

It was much later, and Robin used her spare key to let herself into Steve's apartment, not bothering to announce her arrival by ringing the doorbell, not willing to wait for someone else to let her in. You saw Eddie smile, mouth full of pizza still, as he immediately got up from where he was sat on the floor by the coffee table.

Robin walked in, hidden inside a heavy coat, under a wool beanie and wrapped up in a thick scarf. Whatever pieces of hair you could see were wet from the snow that had started coming down late afternoon and hadn't stopped since.

"Oh my God, it's famous rockstar Eddie Munson!" Robin shrieked and bounced as Eddie leant in to hug her tight. He lifted her up, just like he'd done with you, except Robin didn't get any spins or whispers placed into her hair. "Steve!" she called over Eddie's shoulder. "You've got someone famous in your home!"

"All right," Eddie laughed bashfully, "It's just the town's freak today, I’m afraid."

"Yea, a freak who apparently is now friends with Alanis Morissette?! What the fuck, Eddie?" Robin punched Eddie in the arm.

"I've met her once," Eddie argued as he sat back down, looking at you and rolling his eyes. It was aimed at Robin, but he made sure she couldn't see, and you giggled together.

You spent the evening chatting, eating, and drinking. Drinks that Eddie turned down with a swift, "Nah, I'm good, thanks," and you wondered if he didn't touch a single drop just because Steve had made that comment about his scent earlier.

Robin was her chaotic cheerful self and couldn't stop asking Eddie questions. It meant you got to sit back and listen, bask in the company of your friends. As the hours passed, you turned more into the people you once were, and you couldn't help but love every second of it. Steve started using pet names he hadn't used in ages. Robin made sarcastic jokes at the expense of others so skillfully, no one minded them at all. Eddie grew more theatrical in the way you knew him to be, silly, loud, enthusiastic, and stupid, just the way you liked him most. The second you'd stop giggling, someone would do or say something that would get you reared right back up again, and you'd all join in, smug faces with dumb smiles. You weren't sure if you also became more of the girl you once were, or what that even looked like, but you were having fun, and that was all that mattered.

"Where are you staying?" Robin asked Eddie, like she didn't already know. Maybe she didn't, you thought for a second, because why else would she even bring it up? Maybe it was just polite conversation as she started getting ready to go home and brace the cold once more.

"I think–" Eddie squeezed his eyes shut for a second, before cocking his head your way. "–there's a very comfortable couch made up somewhere in this building for me," Eddie smiled. You nodded because he was right. You had fashioned your couch into a comfortable guest bed, but all four of you knew that there wasn't a chance Eddie was going to use it. There was no reason for you to have gotten the extra pillows, duvets, and sheets out, but you had done it anyway. If not to fool anyone else, then at least to fool yourself.

And fool yourself you did. But only for a minute.

"I've got extra blankets here if you need them. Another pillow too, if that one's too firm," you gestured at a closet as Eddie dropped his duffle bag onto your made-up couch. He looked around a second. You'd made the couch look very cosy, and Eddie almost pouted at the effort you'd put in. But then he looked towards the hallway, and without saying anything, let his feet follow his gaze. He just walked right out. You heard him flip the light switch in your bedroom, followed by the soft sound of a thud to your mattress, and then a heavy blissful sigh.

You knew you shouldn't. But you also knew you absolutely would.

Without putting up a fight, without even trying to pretend this wasn’t what you wanted, you got into bed with Eddie and let him pull you close. Eddie hugged you, face to face, and you hugged him back, clinging. Almost as if a hunger inside you that hadn't been stilled in months finally found its satisfaction. All your senses were being fed with all things Eddie, and you reveled in his embrace. Eddie felt strong, but somehow frail too, which was a little troubling. And he smelled like Steve's shampoo, which was a lot troubling. But he was warm, and you were held. It was so very welcoming. So needed. You hugged each other like you used to do all the time, and you nuzzled into him, your nose pressing firmly into his neck. Something in your chest slotted into place, and it felt right.

"Why are you sad?" Eddie asked after a few beats of silence. It was earnest and sober. A question he'd never ask you if you weren't alone together. In the dark, together.

You hated that he'd seen it within you. But how could he not have?

"I'm not," you whispered, and Eddie didn't believe you, but pulled you closer in response. "Go to sleep, you look like you need it," you didn't want to talk anymore. One of Eddie's hands searched to find one of yours to grab onto. To squeeze. And he would've kissed you if he hadn't been so tired.

"Is it the memories?" Eddie asked the darkness that surrounded you, revealing he still knew you better than you knew yourself. Memories had their way of rearing up and sinking their teeth into your present, and you hadn't yet figured out how to not let them hurt you.

Just to put the matter to rest, and because you didn't want to lie to Eddie, you agreed. "It's the memories."

Eddie moved a little before you felt and heard a kiss close to your ear. "I'm here." And he was.

The next morning you woke up being the small spoon to Eddie's big spoon. Eddie had himself wrapped all around you, a leg slung over you up so high, its thigh covered your hip. His nose pressed into your neck where his lips were fluttering soft kisses that tickled you awake slowly. It was the best wake up call you'd gotten in a while, and you pretended you were still asleep, just so the moment would last you longer.

You wanted to take whatever you could get, knowing you would only be able to have it for a short amount of time. It would absolutely ruin you the next time you'd wake up in your bed alone, but you were too greedy for it now not to bask in it. Swim in it forever. Let it bubble around you, like in a hot tub.

Eddie let a hand roam underneath your shirt. They were slow, soft fingers, cool against your skin, but the stroke of them gratifying. Instead of going for a squeeze - which you were totally expecting, you knew Eddie - he pressed his flat palm right in the middle of your chest, catching cleavage, but mostly monitoring your heart rate.

He curled around you more, tightened his arms and pulled you in closer, using the hand over your heart to push you into him. You let him do whatever he wanted, and tried to control your breathing as best you could. He then found a spot on your neck to lick, and just like Eddie predicted, it made your heart beat faster instantly. He knew you were awake.

"Good morning," Eddie's voice vibrated impossibly low and sensual, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Eddie tilted his hips and your breathe caught and shattered. You could feel him press up against you, impossibly hard for you, and it made you want to push back into him more. You didn't move, though, and instead kept your eyes closed and your hands in place. You knew what would happen if you did push back into him; if you did let your hands wander where they were itching to go.

You took a deep breath to shake it off and you felt Eddie do the same. With his face nuzzled into your neck still, Eddie was inhaling you, and you felt him rock his hips into you once more.

You couldn't. Not yet, anyway. Because Steve was in your mind still, with important words of advice you promised you'd guard yourself with when it would eventually come down to this.

Eddie sensed your apprehension and stopped, halting everything he was doing. His hand immediately slipped from your top and his leg moved down yours a little which freed you from the death grip he'd had on you. His common sense returned too abruptly for your liking, though, and you whined at your sudden loss of him. Eddie immediately regretted the severe, quick change in his demeanor. To make it up to you, he lifted himself over you far enough to press a warm, sweet kiss onto your cheek.

"Did you sleep OK?" Eddie sounded much more awake this time.

It was a good thing Eddie got up and out of bed. Every minute you spent in Eddie's arms like that, only made you want it more. He didn't necessarily need to climb out on your side of the bed, though, but the way he had rolled over you, pushing you down into the mattress as roughly as he could whilst muttering, "oh, sorry, just sneaking past, excuse me, sorry," injected humor into your morning together.

It was only a few hours later that you were absolutely freezing your tits off, watching Eddie and Dustin who were quite literally frollicking in the park. It didn't matter how old they were, or how old they'd ever be; these boys would lay their eyes upon each other, and energy would just shoot into their legs. They were running, shouting at each other and laughing loudly. After five minutes of flinging powdery snow and trying to make one another topple over to get a full face of it, you saw the beginnings of little snowballs that they then started rolling into bigger ones.

It was so cold. You had your gloved hands tucked deeply into the pockets of your coat, your chin dipped into your scarf and your face displayed a permanent grimace as it dealt with the biting breeze it couldn't escape.

"Are they... are they seriously going to build a snowman?"

Mike stood next to you, same grimace displayed on his face, shivering even more than you were. He was still just as lanky as he'd been in high school. Tall, thin, unproportionally long limbs and barely any bodyfat at all. Mike wasn't built to keep himself even slightly warm in cold winters like this one. He was too cool for school, too. Too cool to join Dustin and Eddie in their play, so he watched them from the sidelines, just like you did.

"Do you want to go get a coffee?" you asked Mike, turning your full body instead of just your face to look at him, desperate for some warmth and for some caffeine.

"Guys!" Mike called over. "Wanna go grab a coffee?"

You smiled a small smile to yourself. You would've absolutely left Eddie and Dustin for a moment to get a coffee alone with Mike, but Mike clearly didn't think walking off with only you was even an option. It was all right. You and Mike weren't friends. You understood if Mike thought it'd be awkward.

Neither Eddie nor Dustin reacted to Mike's question. They were too busy making sure their ball of snow didn't collapse in on itself. You saw some of Eddie's wet hair strands stick to his face, mouth open as he breathed heavily, letting Dustin tell him how to use his hands in swiping motions to get the shape right. Both of their jeans had big wet patches at the knees and you wondered how cold and uncomfortable they were going to be for the rest of the day. Mike let a weird, sort of judgmental laugh escape his throat before he shook his head. You grinned at Mike. Where Dustin was so openly a fan of Eddie, Mike quietly tried to hide his - to you - obvious admiration for Eddie. You guessed Mike was secretly way more impressed with him than he let on, and desperately wanted to impress Eddie himself too. Dustin was the guy who would unashamedly pin a poster of Eddie up onto his wall, happily displaying that he was friends with Eddie Munson and was so very proud of him. Mike was the guy who thought that putting up posters was definitely not cool, but instead would try to casually name drop Eddie any time he could.

"Well," Mike said. "At least they're having fun," and it didn't sound like a comment Mike would make, but more like he thought it was a good thing to say in the moment. To fill the silence he didn't know how else to fill. And in a desperate attempt to keep conversation with you going, Mike's mind came up with a question he asked before his brain had even thought of what your reaction to it could be.

"What's it like having your boyfriend back?" Mike asked, and you felt your chest tighten, but were incredibly quick to respond. It was like you'd kept the answer ready in your mouth, because you anticipated someone saying something along the lines of what Mike just said.

"Eddie's not my boyfriend."

You'd said the same thing so many times in your teens that you instantly felt transported back in time a bit. You always fully believed yourself when you said that you and Eddie weren't dating, wholly trusted that you were speaking the truth. But it also always hurt you. It was a sentence that scratched at your insides with long, sharp nails that could puncture your flesh if you weren't careful.

"Ex-boyfriend, sorry," Mike corrected himself like he knew what he was talking about.

"Not that either."

You wondered if Mike thought it had been weird when you and Eddie had walked up holding hands, especially if he also thought that you used to date a long time ago. What kind of ex-lovers held hands still?

You hid yourself into your shoulders a bit more and felt how you had lost complete feeling in your toes. Mike frowned at you in confusion. He'd been around you when you were younger. He looked up to Eddie then, and still did now, and where ever Eddie was, you would be too. Robin would shout inappropriate jokes about you in public places all the time. Mike remembered how Eddie had ran after you once, just to squeeze your ass with both his hands, and you'd just turned around and smiled at him. You had let Eddie stop you, even though you were late for something already, and Mike had heard how Robin softly said to Steve that you were definitely fucking each other, which had made Steve scoff loudly. "No, they're not!" Steve had exclaimed. But then they all saw how you looped fingers through a belt hoop on Eddie's jeans to pull him closer into you, and Robin had given Steve a look that said, see? And Steve had stared for a moment before stuttering, "Oh, so, maybe they are...".

"We've never dated," you stated, sensing Mike's confusion with your eyes back on Dustin and Eddie who had now seemingly found themselves in a snowball fight. Dustin hid behind what was starting to look like a snowman, but seemed abandoned now. They wouldn't finish it, you knew it, and that was okay, because numbness was starting to creep up your ankles and you really wanted coffee.

"Eddie!" you called. You saw him freeze and perk up to look at you, like a startled meerkat, big brown eyes locked right onto you and awaited what you were going to say next.

"Coffee!" you beckoned him with your whole upper body, unwilling to take your hands from your pockets, and Eddie came running immediately, under loud protest of Dustin and Mike. Because Dustin didn't want coffee. And Mike was so annoyed that Eddie hadn't listened to him when he called them over earlier.

You started walking and your numb feet felt weird in your shoes, but the movement in your legs was very welcoming. You fell into step with Mike and let Eddie and Dustin catch up with you. When Eddie got close, all wet hair and wild eyes, he latched onto your back and let out a shaking breath as he shivered up against you. He tried to sneak his hands into your pockets alongside yours, shoving them in, bunching up the sleeves of his coat as he did, and finding warmth there. He squeezed your hands through your gloves, and then you walked together like that, like that didn't make you love Eddie more than you already did.

"You can hold Mike," Eddie smiled when you felt Dustin's peering eyes burning holes into the two of you, and a short silence followed before Mike took off running. "Come here, Mike! Cuddle me!" Dustin shouted, as he chased after him and Eddie took the moment to sneak a kiss onto your temple as you laughed and let it fill your chest with pure love for him. Eddie was here.

That evening, you met Steve outside Wayne's trailer before all three of you headed in and enjoyed Wayne's cooking together. The trailer hadn't changed much – some obvious things were different, of course. There was no more fold-up bed in the corner of the living room. It wasn't as messy without all Eddie's things slung about. And it also wasn't as smelly inside – Eddie was never allowed to smoke indoors, but Wayne made long hours, and rules never really stopped Eddie. It was good that the trailer felt different, you thought. It made it feel less like you were a teenager still. Less like you'd traveled back in time.

You sat together, and ate Wayne's homemade meatloaf. "It's the only thing I can make that's decent enough," Wayne undersold his signature dish, like he always did. "Please tell me you have more that I can take with me," Eddie said through a mouthful, and with every bite he took, you thought Eddie looked better. Healthier, with more colour to his cheeks and more life in his eyes.

You ate until you couldn't anymore, you reminisced and you laughed. You didn't think you'd ever seen Wayne laugh the way he did when he told the story of how he once caught Steve sneaking out, trying to climb out of a window unsuccessfully, high as a kite, whilst the door right next to the window was wide open. Wayne laughed so hard, it squeezed tears from his eyes and he could barely make it through the story.

You saw Eddie lean back in his chair, his grin wide, love swelling his chest and flaring his ribcage as he looked at his uncle. He almost looked drunk with love and admiration, and for a second you thought Eddie had just invited you over for dinner at Wayne's because he knew that Wayne loved traveling back in time just as much as he did.

You all helped clean up before Wayne had to leave for his shift at work, and just before he walked out the door, Wayne spoke to you like you were all 16 and about to stay the night over at Eddie's.

"You let your parents know you're here?"

You and Steve looked at each other with stupid smiles, and then both nodded. "Yes, Mr Munson."

"There's pop in the fridge, and there's microwave popcorn, but don't let Eddie touch it, or he'll burn the place down."

There was still a black scorch mark in the kitchen from when Eddie had literally nearly burned the place down. All of your eyes found it, and you saw Eddie grin with a little guilt hidden underneath. It was nice to be at an age where you could joke about things Wayne had been so angry about at the time that they had happened, you could feel it bubble in your stomach and saw Steve almost burst from the strain of barely withheld laughter.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," these were words meant just for you, because Wayne knew they were rendered useless on Eddie and on Steve.

"And boys, look after her." and those were words meant just for Steve and for Eddie, because Wayne knew your parents and he always worried what they thought of you being over in his trailer without adult supervision.

"We will." Steve and Eddie spoke in unison, their tones entirely different from each other. Wayne smiled the smallest of smiles, having greatly enjoyed stepping back into the little routine, and left the three of you alone.

"Movie?" Steve then asked. "For old time's sake?"

And it was so stupid. Because sat on the couch together, it felt like nothing had changed in over ten years. You stared at Wayne's little old shitty TV that he still had, "Still works fine, don't need to replace things that aren't broken," and you picked a movie from a stack of tapes that still held exactly the same titles it did ten years ago. No new additions, everything the same, just labels more faded. You'd sat down in a corner of the couch and pulled your legs up, only for Eddie and Steve to immediately protest.

"I'm not middle-seating it,"

"Move,"

And so you were pulled and pushed into the center of the couch, one boy either side of you, and you sat through a full movie, not paying attention to a single thing that happened in it. Because you were sat next to Eddie, and it was freezing outside, but Eddie was warm - he was all you could feel and all you could think about. And at one point, Eddie's hand that was resting over the back of the couch fell onto your shoulder. And when Steve wasn't looking, Eddie used it to pull you into him and you snuggled up. But then when Steve did look, he didn't even seem fazed. Didn't even mention it. Because this was what it had always been like, and Steve loved his friends all the same, whether they were touching each other, or not.

That's when you felt her take over; your teenage self. You were her, all open, unrestrained and naive in all the best ways. You sighed and sunk into yourself, because you'd missed her. And you knew that she would fight adult-you if you were to deny a kiss from Eddie. Because that was how these nights always ended, didn't they?

Except this night, it didn't, because you weren't actually your teenage self with endless pits of energy within you, and you'd had a long day. It didn't help that whatever you were watching didn't interest you at all, and Eddie's breathing was rhythmic and deep. The last thing you remembered was Eddie and Steve make soft conversation over you as you'd let your eyes close. They said things about the movie. There was small talk about Wayne. You tried to stay awake, hoped that maybe you'd catch them exchange words about you, but you drifted off faster than you could grasp in the moment.

You stirred awake when you felt someone pull you upright by your arms and then guided them to sling over their shoulders. Then there were arms that wrapped around your waist, and a soft restricted groan close to your ear as you got hoisted up off of the couch.

"Mmhm?" So tired.

"Come on, we're getting you into the car," Eddie whispered, and you heard Steve huff a tiny laugh through his nose.

You moved your legs to walk, because you absolutely could walk, but strong hands underneath your thighs held you up and in place. A coat got draped around you, over you, covering you as best it could.

"Tie my scarf," Eddie softly instructed Steve. "So it won't fall," and you felt how something tied around the back of your neck that pulled with Eddie's movement, and you imagined the woven wool tied the two of you together. When Steve opened the door, a cold gust of wind ruined every little bit comfortability and you tightened your koala-grip around Eddie.

"Steve started the car 5 minutes ago, it'll only be cold for a second."

The next morning you woke up on your couch with your face pressed into Eddie’s back. Your made-up couch, where Eddie had placed you down onto the cool sheets after insisting that he also carried you into your apartment when Steve had driven you all back to your building. You’d accepted every touch and every hold with your eyes closed and your limbs slack. Steve had whispered good night when you got out of the elevator at your floor, and Eddie had suggested you could have breakfast together the next day.

“Why are we on the couch?” your voice, thick with sleep, spoke into the dark morning.

You obviously remembered going to sleep on the couch, but only just now wondered why exactly Eddie hadn't taken you into the bedroom, where you'd probably both be much more comfortable, would have a lot more space.

“Couldn’t let it go to waste,” Eddie’s voice was gravelly, like he’d been screaming into a microphone on a stage all night, or like he had a really bad cold. "You made it look very nice."

You pressed your lips against Eddie’s shoulder blade over his T-shirt. It wasn't a kiss per se, but a nice place to just rest your mouth for a little bit. You inhaled Eddie, his scent unmistakably him and you felt him snuggle backwards a little into you more. Confusion struck. You knew this fabric. You smelled your own laundry detergent in the mix of all things Eddie and leant back to get a better look at what he was wearing.

“Are you… are you wearing your old hellfire club T-shirt?”

“Mmh, found it in your pajama drawer,”

Eddie had caught a glimpse his old T-shirt and hadn’t hesitated to put it on, dressing himself in nostalgia, knowing it would fill his cup all the way up to the brim. How could it not? He had just watched a film in the trailer with you and Steve. He had spent the day fucking around with Dustin and Mike. And now, wearing his old T-shirt to bed? This is exactly the type of shit he went to Hawkins for. The type of shit he needed. That grounded him. It pulled him off his pedestal and forced him into his authentic self.

After pulling the T-shirt over his head, he had slid onto the couch next to you, and made sure he positioned himself lower than you, pressing his head underneath your chin. Let you hold him. Made him feel smaller. Younger. Like his old, teenage self.

"Is today your last day?" you loved Eddie in his hellfire club T-shirt. It transformed him more into the Eddie that you knew, inside and out.

"Alive? I hope not," Eddie was quick witted, but you didn't appreciate the joke and stayed silent. Eddie picked up on it immediately.

"They're picking me up tomorrow, yea,"

Eddie said it too neutrally. No emotion or feeling behind his words. You wondered which end of the scale he was on; was he ready to get out of here, or did he maybe wish he could have a little more time? It was probably the former, you thought, and you let it hurt your chest, regretting even thinking about it in the first place. You tightened your hold on Eddie. Pressed your cheek into his back more. You needed to burrow; disappear into everything that was overwhelmingly Eddie for as long as he would let you.

"Do you want to get up?" Eddie asked after a while, his voice suddenly normal, no trace of sleep left at all.

"No," you muffled into his T-shirt, and you felt his body shake with silent laughter.

"Come here,"

You were already there, you thought, but Eddie started shifting to turn around and maneuvered you underneath the covers until you were practically on top of him. He hugged you tightly to his body and you laid like that for a while. Eddie would sometimes kiss your head, swirl his nose into your hair and you could feel how your breathing started syncing up. Like you locked together, somehow. They were blissful moments of nothingness, just the two of you, and you wished they could last forever. You tilted your head and looked up, and without permission or the right, Eddie stole the chance to press kisses to your cheek, creeping closer to your mouth with every single one he planted onto you. You felt yourself at the far end of a bridge, and with every millimeter Eddie got closer to your mouth, you could envision him take big steps across it. You held the power to halt him, make him stop somewhere midway, but he was running, and you really wanted him to crash into you.

Eddie kissed you. It was slow and lazy. It felt dangerously familiar in all the right ways and all the wrong ways at once. Morning kisses turned into morning making out and you felt flutters all throughout your lower stomach that you tried very hard to ignore. Until you couldn't anymore, and you caught yourself, smiled into your kiss and forced it to break.

"Eddie, I don't think..." you started, but breathed as you looked at his mouth. Words faltered you entirely, because Eddie's mouth was there, and it wanted to kiss you, and God, wasn't that exactly what you yearned for?

"I know," Eddie knew exactly what you meant, not needing to hear the words to understand them. "I know."

When you heard a key turn in your front door, Eddie and you were still wrapped up in sheets together. "Steve." Eddie warned, and you knew he was right, immediately shooting up from the couch and scurrying into the kitchen. You pretended you were making coffee when Steve stepped into your living room. Steve was dressed, but the bedhead on him revealed he'd not been awake long at all.

"Breakfast?"

You made toast, and you scrambled some eggs – even parted some oranges for Eddie and Steve. Breakfast was enjoyed mostly in silence, and it was comfortable, just the three of you chewing, sipping, occasionally yawning and stretching. You all shared tired eyes and eventually talked about your plans for the day. Steve said Robin had time to hang out, and Eddie said he wanted to be outside. Go for a walk. See Hawkins in the snow some more, because it looked so nice, all dirt and grime covered up by thick blankets of shimmering white.

When Eddie went to the toilet, Steve eyed you for a second and then sighed loudly. He was annoyed with a capital A and his frown translated it loud and clear.

"It's worse this time, isn't it?" he scoffed, having observed you long enough to know he was right. "Why did you let it get worse?"

You were quick to shoot him down, not wanting to get into it right now. If you did, you'd argue, because it felt unfair for Steve to keep shifting all blame onto you when it was never just you, was it?

"Stop. Everything's fine," you actively gaslit him, and you were very aware of it too.

"Your bed looks extremely untouched in there, you're not fooling anyone," Steve pointed in the direction of your bedroom, having seen your pristine made up bed from the hallway when he'd walked in. Steve could deal with the two of you sharing a bed, but the couch felt different. The thought of you sharing a big bed left Steve the chance to at least pretend you both kept to your own sides of it with your backs towards each other. Finding Eddie untangling himself from the sheets on the couch, and your pajamas all twisted up around your body made him put two and two together. It's wasn't a hard puzzle to solve.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," you got up and started clearing the table, desperate for this chat with Steve to end.

"Yes, we will, when I come over to peel you from your bathroom tiles, crying shell of a person," Steve seemed angry with you, spat his words with venom. You understood it was just worries from a friend, but all you wanted to do was get angry in return, even if it made no sense.

"Steve, I-" you hissed, but stopped yourself when you heard your toilet flush. It was just glares from the both of you then, eyes shooting daggers, calling each other names that couldn't reach Eddie's ears.

That afternoon, Robin had picked the three of you up and parked somewhere close to Lovers Lake. It had completely frozen over. You were about to say you should've all brought ice skates, but Robin was already on the ice. She took slow steady steps, unsure, and a little shaky. Steve followed, a lot more confident, and when the ice didn't crack when he jumped to demonstrate how thick it was, you and Eddie stepped on too. You held onto Eddie on the slippery ice and slid quite far out together, following Steve and Robin who figured out they could run without slipping or falling. They were laughing, chasing each other, and spinning in circles around you. Robin slid over and almost bumped into you, "I've not figured out how to stop yet," and took hold of both of your hands before she started running backwards, speeding up as she dragged you along. The thrill had you shrieking, and it was fun, even though there wasn't a single second you didn't think you were going to fall and hurt yourself.

When Robin slowed down a little, it gave you a chance to look over your shoulder, and you could see Steve and Eddie talk. You were too far away to hear them, too far away to even read their faces properly, but Steve seemed sad as he spoke, and Eddie seemed annoyed as he listened.

You asked Robin if she knew what they were talking about, and she giggled, "Probably confessing their undying love for each other," making you laugh. When the four of you joined each other again with flushed faces and cold fingers, you started on your way back to get off the ice, and Eddie seemed more distant.

Eddie didn't grab a hold of you the way you would've wanted him to. Eddie didn't reach for your hand to hold, even though his legs still seemed just as unsteady and wobbly. Eddie didn't wrap an arm around your shoulders as you walked back through the woods to where Robin had parked her car. And Eddie didn't want to sit in the backseat with you, calling shotgun and running the last few steps to the car to ensure his place in the front.

There was only one thing you could conclude; Steve had tried to be a good friend to you, had tried to let Eddie know to back off a bit, maybe. And you loved your good friend Steve, but could strangle him in the moment. All you had were glares for him from your spot in the car behind Eddie, which Steve pretended he didn't see, and Robin caught in the rearview mirror.

That evening, around 8pm, you all stepped into The Hideout, and you were a little shocked at the welcome you got. The welcome Eddie got. There were maybe 15 people, and the place had seemed quiet, people minding their own business, but when eyes landed on Eddie, everyone seemed up on their feet and he was hauled in like the super star he was.

Eddie was given drinks by strangers, talked to by everyone, all at once, and asked by the young band playing that night to sign their instruments. Random men patted him on the back, acted like they were long lost friends, and talked to him like they knew Eddie - talked to him like Eddie knew them.

It was overwhelming to witness, let alone be the guy who has to take it all in, and you sighed a breath of relief when you saw Steve had been able to grab a little table a bit further into the back for the four of you. Away from the bright lights that surrounded the bar. Away from the band who had already pulled Eddie up on stage and had pressed a guitar into his hands, "One song, Eddie! Come on!" and who was he to deny these young boys a little bit of fun?

When he stepped off stage after playing three, four, maybe even five songs, you touched Eddie's arm and pointed out where you were sat. Eddie just handed you the two drinks he'd already been handed by strangers and told you he'd be there in a second. Eddie took his time talking to anyone that wanted to talk to him. This was rockstar Eddie. Famous Eddie Munson. Eddie who lived somewhere high up on a pedestal. You admired him, because he was everything Eddie would've looked up to when he was younger, and now he had made it.

You admired him, were so proud of him, but you weren't sure if you necessarily liked him.

When Eddie eventually joined you, the four of you chatted, laughed, flipped coasters off the edge of the table and tried to catch them after just one rotation. Robin could stack several up and flip them all together, catching them all in one swift move, and you all tried to see if you could too, but made coasters fly instead. Eddie dared Steve to get on stage, sit behind the drumkit, give a dumb ba-dum-tss as if someone had just told him a bad joke. Steve called bluff on Robin when she said she was going to order a shot and try to get a girl's phone number. You went and got more drinks for all of you, and the bartender gave them to you for free, waved at Eddie in the back and made you wish you'd ordered more expensive drinks instead of just four beers.

The night was all giggles and pure joy, and you loved every second the four of you spent together so much, it made you forget that Eddie was leaving the next day. Eddie was there now, and that was all you really had, and all that really mattered.

Steve ended up being the first to leave and Robin dipped out not much later. It was only just past 11 when Eddie asked the owner to call a taxi for the two of you, and you finished your drinks in silence, Eddie's hand on your thigh, smiling stupid smirks and catching stolen glances. You knew where the night was headed, and you gladly let Eddie lead the way.

You made your way into your apartment by the sheer sense of intuition alone. You hadn't broken from one another since stepping into the elevator, and letting yourself into your apartment was a messy, fumbling, frustrating task, because Eddie wouldn't stop kissing you, and you liked how he pushed you up against the door too much. 

Getting to your bed eventually, you let Eddie push you back onto your mattress. A knee pressed into the springs in between your legs and he hovered over you with his hair cascading down, giving you tunnel vision. All you could see, feel, smell, hear and taste was Eddie. 

"Let's get you what you need,"

You moaned as you let him, taking all of what he was willing to give you in the moment. Eddie was all soft, caressing fingers with a caring mind that searched for a condom before getting himself anywhere near you. All attentive eyes and thoughtful lips. Until he wasn't. Until he grew rough. You could feel him slowly shift into the guy who you'd seen hold a guitar that night. The man he turned into when he stepped on stage. All confidence, all ego. You knew he wasn't just giving you what he thought you needed. Eddie was taking from you what he wanted and asked no permission, because he knew he already had it.

Eddie went for a shower after, and you hadn't hesitated to join him, unwilling to leave his side during these last few moments that you had with him. Eddie let you wash his hair, let himself melt under your massaging touch and the hot stream of water. He let you charge the last little bit of his inner battery, unaware he was draining yours simultaneously. You asked if you could braid his hair after combing it with him sat on the floor, one of your knees on either side of his shoulders, and he had just hummed, drowning in the bliss of having someone touch him like this. You french braided his hair out of his face and made sure his curl pattern would look nice when he'd undo them. Eddie curled his arms around your legs, and you knew it was the last bit of past Eddie you were going to get from him. Come tomorrow morning, he'd see one of his band members and he'd take the foot he still kept in the past and would scrape it along gravel towards his future. You had only now.

And now... here you were.

It was just past two in the morning, and Eddie was asleep in your bed whilst you were staring at him with tears escaping your eyes, willing time to slow down until it stopped entirely. You honestly really didn't mean to wake up him. You didn't. But you couldn't help the small sob that escaped you, even though you really tried, and you held your breath right after in hopes of the silence compensating it enough. 

But Eddie had heard you. Caught you, eyes blinking open and meeting the worst version of you. It was the wrong time and the wrong place to meet this version of you, and you mentally kicked yourself for it. Thick, salty tears had left your face wet, and when Eddie cupped your cheek with his hand, he felt what he hadn’t already been able to see in the dark.  

The adult in you didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to wake Eddie up any more than you had already done. The adult in you wanted Eddie to live his life for himself, the way he had been doing for the past however many years, chasing dreams he had never been able to shut up about when you were younger. The adult in you wanted success for Eddie in every single form he would accept it.  

But your teenage self kicked your adult self in the shins and shouted, "Fuck what you want, what about what I want?". You wanted to argue. To talk, at least. Be selfish in the moment and let go of what you held trapped in your heart, even if you knew Eddie wouldn’t know what to do with it – wouldn’t even really like it.  

"Stay."

Eddie didn’t hesitate, not even in this state of being half-asleep half-awake, and said, "I can’t stay."

"Please, stay. Stay for Christmas." You sniffed loudly, almost doing it on purpose to manipulate him into feeling sad for you. To show you some empathy and to indulge you in your need for him. 

"You know, I can’t stay, baby." Eddie made it sound softer that time, added a pet name, and hummed right after. 

You knew he meant he didn’t want to stay. Hawkins wasn’t Eddie’s present, or future for that matter. It was Eddie’s past; the past where he would step one foot back into every couple of months. The past he had to revisit in order to keep his future bright as he would stare at it up ahead. The second the mental image of his future started dulling, Eddie dove head first into his past, into you, until the sun would come back out. Then, he’d be off again.  

"That’s okay, I don’t want you to."

You sent mixed signals, but you meant them. Both were true. If Eddie didn't want to stay, you didn't want to keep him there. Eddie frowned with a type of confidence you didn’t appreciate.

"Lies."  

"I want you to stay if it’s not going to hold you back. I want you to stay because you want to stay. Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t..." You paused and tried to let your mind find the right words.

"Anymore." You added.

"This." You finished.

Eddie let the silence linger for longer than you liked, and the confidence you had seen in Eddie's expression faltered slightly. Just a little. Just enough for you to have seen it in the dark.

"You know I love you right?" Eddie tried saving it, but you didn't know if Eddie even knew what he was trying to save exactly.

"That doesn’t change anything. Love doesn’t make you stay for Christmas."

"I’ll stay for Christmas." Eddie moved in closer to you, pulled you into him to cuddle, to hold you as you cried. He wanted to give you this fantasy for a moment if it would get you through the night in one piece.

"You can’t." you protested, already ripping at the seams.

"I can’t." Eddie sighed.

Overnight, Eddie had changed from the guy who held you as you cried, to the guy who left your apartment with all of his things without waking you up to say goodbye.

Eddie had been there, jammed up high, all the way up in all of your senses until, very abruptly, he wasn't anymore.

Eddie was gone, and he had taken your teenage self with him, leaving you hollow, empty, barren, bleak, and lifeless.

Eddie was gone, and you let your hands reach for him across your mattress, feeling sharp pains in your chest when you didn't feel him there, your apartment was quiet.

Eddie was gone, and he had taken every trace of himself, like he had never even been there to begin with. Except for one thing. You knew it would be there. He always left one, and why would this time be different? You reached up for it without even opening your eyes, letting your fingers find it on the pillow where he'd rested his head before he'd walked out on you.

A little note.

A small message to leave you with. A message that was meant to hold you over until you'd see him again. But would you? See him again?

You cracked open eyes that were already wet and let them adjust, blink into focus, to read what words Eddie felt would excuse his absence.

"Merry Christmas x"

Eddie was gone. And so were you. Read the sequel: Over Now

-----

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[akazzzaa]

The forbidden flower

Summary- You find the blue spider Lily.

Genre- Angst

Warnings-Implied death// threats// hurt// cannon divergence

Muzan

Muzan needed more pawns to look for the blue spider lilly. He decided that he might need to get a human to help him. He attempts to use you to acquire the Blue Spider Lily for him. He would employ various tactics, such as deception, coercion, or promises of rewards, to convince you to retrieve the flower on his behalf. Just like he does with everyone. Muzan is desperate to find a way to break free from the limitations placed on him.

But you found it. A stupid, mere little human. Found something that neither him or his strongest creations couldn't find. His guts turn and he cant stop shaking. He is desperate.

He may resort to threats and violence to ensure that he gets hold of it. He would likely stop at nothing to obtain the flower and achieve his goal of becoming immune to sunlight.

Muzan is a master manipulator. If he perceives that direct aggression is not working, he might resort to cunning and manipulation to get you to hand over the Blue Spider Lily willingly. He would exploit your fears, emotions, or vulnerabilities to achieve his ends.

The discovery of the Blue Spider Lily would likely install fear and panic to the demon slayers. Once word gets round that Muzan has the flower, it would lead to chaos and lots of death in his pursuit of ultimate power and the perfect body.

Kokushibo

Upon discovering that you found the Blue Spider Lily, Kokushibo's eyes narrow with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. He approaches you with a calm demeanour, concealing his true emotions. Being a skilled swordsman and demon, he might use his formidable presence to make you feel the weight of the situation.

Kokushibo inquires about how you came across such a rare and sought-after flower, probing for details about its origins and how it ended up in their possession. Depending on your response, he might become more intrigued or skeptical.

If convinced that the Blue Spider Lily is genuine and that you have the potential to be useful to Muzan's cause, Kokushibo decides to take the flower from you. His actions could range from forcefully snatching it away or employing a more diplomatic approach, perhaps trying to persuade you that handing it over willingly is in their best interest.

Douma

You triumphantly presents the blue spider lily, the air around Douma grows tense with excitement. His twisted grin widens as he gazes at the precious flower in your hands. Douma, always seeking amusement, might chuckle softly, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he would purr, circling the you with an unsettling grace. "You've found Muzan's elusive treasure. How utterly fascinating."

Your confusion and surprise would only fuel Douma's sadistic delight. He approaches with an eerie calmness, extending his hand to take the blue spider lily. "Do you know the significance of this, little one?" he'd taunt, his voice a low, melodic drawl.

Douma, ever loyal to Muzan, expresses a sense of reverence toward the flower. With a flourish, he would snatch it from your grasp, his eyes flickering with a strange mix of loyalty and madness. "Muzan-sama has been searching for this for centuries," he would explain, his tone dripping with reverence for their leader. "You've done well to find it. Now, let me take it to him."

Akaza

You excitedly presents the rare and elusive blue spider lily to Akaza. He cant help but just stare in shock. Akaza is intrigued by the potential power it holds and the prospect of aiding Muzan in achieving his centuries-long goal. However, the more he thinks about the significance of the flower and Muzan's relentless search for it, a conflict would emerge within Akaza.

Akaza's loyalty to Muzan is paramount, but his emotions and personal connections create inner turmoil. He struggles with conflicting feelings, torn between his allegiance to Muzan and the bond and connection he formed with you. The internal struggle is evident in his expressions and body language.

Ultimately, Akaza makes a difficult decision. His loyalty to Muzan overrides any personal connection he has with you. In a tense moment, he takes the blue spider lily from you, expressing regret and sadness. This strains the relationship between you, leading to emotional and dramatic consequences.

Hantengu (Main Body)

It was in your hands. Hantengu approaches you with a deceptive demeanor, pretending not to know the true value of the flower. He would feign ignorance or downplay its importance, trying to manipulate you into willingly giving it to him. Hantengu might use his ability to summon his clones to make you more compliant.

Once you hand over the blue spider lily, Hantengu would likely reveal his true intentions, expressing his loyalty to Muzan and explaining that he saw an opportunity to gain favour with him. He will then leave the scene, leaving you to deal with the consequences of your actions.

Gyokko

How sublime. Gyokko swiftly appears before you. His eyes, typically filled with malice, gleam with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. Gyokko, being aware of the significance of the blue spider lily, recognizes its potential to make demons able to walk in the sun, a trait that Muzan has sought for centuries.

Gyokko, with a sly and cunning smile, approaches you and calmly demands the flower. His voice, laced with a subtle threat, as he reminds you of Muzan's power and the consequences of defying him. Gyokko, confident in his abilities as a member of the Twelve Kizuki, might not hesitate to take the flower forcibly if you resists.

Gyutaro

As you presents the blue spider lily, Gyutaro's cold demeanour shifts momentarily. His eyes, usually filled with malice, widen with a glint of anticipation. The discovery of the elusive flower, the key to allowing demons to walk in the sun, is a revelation of immense significance.

Gyutaro, realizing the importance of this find, extends his hand to take the blue spider lily from your. His voice, usually cold and detached, might take on a more calculated and focused tone as he expresses the significance of the flower to Muzan Kibutsuji. He may explain that Muzan has been searching for the blue spider lily for centuries, and this discovery could be a game-changer for their kind.

While Gyutaro is known for his cruelty, his loyalty to Muzan is unwavering. In this situation, he would prioritize delivering the blue spider lily to Muzan over any personal feelings or attachments. You witness Gyutaro's dedication to Muzan's goals as he takes the flower, possibly with a menacing smile or a chilling remark about the consequences of crossing their leader.

Daki

Upon learning about your possession of the Blue Spider Lily, Daki will initially feign friendliness or interest, attempting to manipulate the situation to her advantage. She would use her charm and persuasive skills to convince you to hand it over willingly, perhaps even offering false promises or benefits in return.

Once she has the Blue Spider Lily in her possession, Daki would likely prioritize her loyalty to Muzan. Daki is fiercely loyal to Muzan, and he has been searching for the Blue Spider Lily for centuries, she would likely see it as her duty to deliver the flower to him. He will be so proud of her she can feel it.

Daki will betray your trust, revealing her true intentions and swiftly taking the Blue Spider Lily to deliver it to Muzan. This could lead to a tense and dramatic confrontation between you and Daki, as you realizes you have been deceived by the demon you thought you could trust.

[stellocchia]

Killer being incredibly touch-starved is something I've been thinking about for a while. We know very little about monster biology, let alone Killer's who's something in between, so I'm gonna base this on the effect of touch deprivation in the real world (which, yes, is a very real and highly studied thing. And no, the people using it as an excuse for why they're 'owed sex' are still full of shit, because to the human brain the kind of touch, as long as it's positive and well received, doesn't make a difference).

Killer, for his whole time with both Chara and Nightmare, is deprived of any positive touch. Nightmare stabbing him and forcefully manipulating his soul certainly doesn't count as positive, and most Chara did was cut him up for fun (and out of curiosity).

There is a chance for him to receive some affection in an expanded Nightmare's gang situation, as I refuse to believe that people stuck in such awful conditions together would not develop a certain degree of closeness. Still, they live under Nightmare, so they probably cannot afford to indulge in any form of comfort too much. And I don't doubt that, in such a tense situation, fights would also break out often. Meaning he'd most likely get more gaster blasters to the face than pats on the back.

With that out of the way, here are some of the symptoms Killer may experience:

Overwhelming loneliness

Strong cravings for affection

Feelings of depression

Anxiety

Heightened levels of Stress

Difficulty sleeping

Attachment avoidance patterns

He'd also most likely do things to emulate the feeling of touch like cuddling his cats a lot, laying under whatever heavy thing he can find, and taking hot showers/baths. After all, this is Killer we're talking about. These are a lot of feelings and uncomfortable sensations that are entirely out of his control, he's definitely gonna try and reign them in.

I do think that, of course, this would affect every Stage differently. And they'd probably go about dealing with it differently.

Stage 1 would have a conflicted relationship with touch. On one hand, it's hard for him to keep from showing the discomfort he's feeling due to the touch deprivation. On the other, he also always struggles with feelings of guilt regarding the fact that, in his mind, he put himself in this situation. He probably wouldn't think he deserves to feel better. And definitely wouldn't outright ask for a hug or to hold hands unless he was desperate.

He'd probably try to deal with it quietly. Probably running the shower as hot as it can get and hoping it gets rid of the itch in his bones. He has probably begged both Chara and Nightmare for affection before, though I doubt that ended well. I think Chara just pushed him away in Disgust, Nightmare probably made him regret asking.

I feel like later on with Color he's probably gonna need constant reassurances and frequent gentle reminders that he can ask for a hug whenever. And, if that feels like too much, he can sit close to Color, shoulder to shoulder. They can hold hands, and, when that feels like too much, they can interlock pinkies. There are ways for them to navigate around this. And I think Color would be happy to help from the get-go with him.

Meanwhile, with Stage 2 I've always felt like they probably dislike touch (something something they don't allow themselves to show any degree of vulnerability and never let go of control. Both things that would happen if they indulge in any amount of physical affection). To be clear, this does not mean that they're immune to the consequences of touch deprivation, it just means that dealing with them will be even harder for them.

During their time with Chara and Nightmare they'd probably use a lot of the good old "gaslighting themselves into thinking that everything is okay" method. Similarly to how they did with convincing themselves that they actually enjoy being hurt on the regular, eventually, they'd probably start believing it. Also, they'd be highly reliant on their cats if they have any around. Cuddling them does soothe a lot of the symptoms for quite a while, and those little balls of fur at least are not gonna backstab them.

Even once they're with Color, I still feel like Stage 2 would rather cuddle with animals than with other monsters or humans. They'd just be far more free to do so without the threat of Nightmare killing those little critters hanging over their head. Also! A lot of types of dance and stuff like theater can help stave off the touch starvation in a way that may feel more comfortable to them. In a lot of those situations, there's a ton of touch involved, but as they'd be able to remain professional about it, it would probably feel less like giving up control and showing weakness than the alternative of being physically affectionate with Color.

Stage 3 is an interesting one. I feel like it would be the most open to admitting (at least to itself) that they have an issue. However, to solve said issue would mean putting the body in danger and that's not something it's willing to do.

Still, it would try to mitigate the discomfort as much as it can. Trying to find soft things to wrap the body up tightly with. Trying to find small places where it can feel somewhat compressed. It would never try to ask either Nightmare or Chara for help. Ever. It hates them with a burning passion and, besides, it's fully aware that, whatever is wrong with them, is most likely the fault of those two.

It probably also would regard Color with distrust at first, but, eventually, as it comes to trust him, it probably would be more than happy to get some cuddles in with him. I do think its favorite thing would be to sleep all curled up around one another in whatever safe den it has built. And, of course, as it builds trust with more people, those people are gonna be let in too. Though that's gonna take time, because for Stage 3 to trust anyone, Stage 2 and Stage 1 have to trust them first.

Stage 4 my boy... it's suffering. Not only can it not remember any instances of kindness, however rare, the other 3 may have received, but it is also the one that would struggle the most receiving any kind of genuine help even after running away with Color. And, before that, it basically just gets treated like a dog. Though, no matter how much he'd want it, the treat for a job well done is never a hug or a pat on the head for it. Usually, it's just it being allowed some basic necessities like water, food, maybe even sleep if things went particularly well.

And it wouldn't try to soothe any of its needs by itself. Just like it doesn't eat, drink, or sleep if it's not explicitly allowed. If Nightmare or Chara wanted it to get a hot shower or some cuddles from its feline friends, they would have said it. Since they didn't clearly it's against the will of the Players, as they're the Players' mouthpieces. The same would go for Color not saying anything.

And, here's the thing, Color would struggle to show kindness to Stage 4 at first. Both because it starts off as hostile as it doesn't initially recognize him as an owner and because there is something fundamentally unsettling about a being so divorced from humanity and monsterkind wearing the face of his friend. Stage 4's biggest downfall is the fact that it is so other that even the kindest souls would struggle to not dehumanize it. It was created to be a tool and it doesn't recognize itself as anything more than that, so others often fall into the trap of doing the same.

Anyway, Stage 4 would straight-up weep the first time it gets a hug. And, seeing that, Color would undoubtedly feel like shit for ever thinking that Stage 4 wasn't just as lonely, hurt, and deserving of kindness as the other Stages.

[rivendell-poet]

Good *time of the day at your country*

I would like to make a request now that you posted a list full of ideas.

Could you write from the Fluff/romance list 7 and 19 with Legolas and a human!reader?

Soo the idea is that reader have body image insecurities ( because she doesn't have flat belly or something idk) and.. since Elves are literally the image of Perfection, reader often feels that Legolas deserves better. Even for the humans reader isn't something special. She feels unworthy every time people look at them surprised about how they ended up together and that an elf deserved better. One night when she cries about it in her room Legolas happens to hear her when he comes back (you can't never be quiet enough to hide form an elf) So yea i think i gave too much information, I'll shut up and leave the rest up to you :) have a good day.

Hi anon! First of all, thank you so much for your request - and trusting me to write this! The greeting made me smile as well, so thank you for that. Secondly, (and more importantly), I'm so sorry for the extended wait. Hopefully you still enjoy it, although be mindful of the angst.

(also don't worry about the info - as long as you've not written how the fanfic should go line-by-line I welcome more detailed requests <3)

❝𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭) 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞ « one-shot »

Pairing : Legolas X Reader

Wordcount : 2.6k

Gender-neutral reader | TWs : Crying, the first half of this fic centres around negative body-image & reader disliking their body. Although this is countered, if it's something you're struggling with please don't force yourself to read <3

Summary : As a human, you sometimes struggle when comparing your body to Legolas. And sometimes it can get bad. Luckily, he is always there to reassure you that he loves you - no matter what.

A/N : Was feeling angst-y at the start, so if you want to read but skip to the comfort keeping going until you see the ✧ paragraph break (although this will skip some fluff/a good portion of the fic). Also sorry if this is somewhat disjointed. It has been edited, but was written over a longer period of time.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you try not to wince as you eagerly let the fabric fall back down over you. You don't look like you've been a member of the Fellowship, like you've fought Sauron's forces directly, you look like you've sat around and done nothing. Even after days of running and taking part in battles, your stomach doesn't lie flat - let alone have defined muscles. And the parts of your body that are more curved don't have that extra weight in muscle.

Even the bits that are more elven, more lithe and made of muscle, are still marred. This time by scars, a few raised and rough but most simply discoloured. All are eyesores, drawing attention immediately to the imperfections on your skin. It's even more obvious when you stand next to Legolas, his skin glowing and youthful. Even from centuries with a bow, his fingers remain uncalloused and smooth like silk. He doesn't seem to mind the contrast when he holds your hand. The silkiness against the craters on your skin. He also doesn't seem to mind the stares you two get when you're together. When he's close to you, and you're so obviously in love.

There are two types of stares you notice when people see you two like that. The first starts off fawning and admiring, and then you enter their gaze as well as Legolas. Then the positivity changes to more of a sneer, looking at the flawed shape of you compared to his perfection. The second type of stare is confusion, when their eyes flicker back and forth between the two of you as they wonder how you managed to convince him to like you.

It's even worse when you and Legolas go to the more formal dinners, when folks have to be polite with their words - so show even more disdain with their actions. The ones who know of Legolas's social status are even worse; how could someone of his noble lineage marry a commoner? It's one of these dinners you're about to be forced to attend, and one of these dinners you're dreading.

A soft knock on the door breaks your eye contact with the mirror, and you step away just as Legolas enters your room. His eyes light up when he sees you, looking you up and down before smiling. "You look beautiful."

"You're only saying that because I'm dressed in your colours." You tease, trying not to let your worry - that that is the reason he said - seep into your voice. He looks gorgeous in your colours, of course, they only serve to compliment his natural colours, making him look even more gorgeous.

"Not at all." He offers you his hand, immediately holding you tightly when you put your hand in his. "I hope you will enjoy this ball, some of my kin will be here."

"Elves?"

"Yes, from as far as my home." He pauses for a second, then smiles, "From Eryn Lasgalen."

"That's great news. Do you know any yourself?" You ask, trying to put the conversation on him. He thinks for a second, before telling you of the first elleth - a captain of the guard. In the meantime, you attempt to listen while trying not to think about what elves being with you means. If humans judge you as being unworthy of an elf, how will elves judge you when they find out you are with their prince?

Eventually, you manage to listen to Legolas again - hoping you haven't missed any vital information. His stories, and genuine enthusiasm, soon manage to lift your spirits and distract you from your worries. It works so well you're able to walk into the ball, not even noticing the others as you get to your friends. Aragorn welcomes you with a smile, you can tell he's grateful when genuine friends come over, and looks at the two of you. "By Valar, with the two of you and my wife I think everyone on my council has outdressed me."

He's lying, of course, dressed in a beautiful robe of wine red and forest green that somehow does not clash on him, but the words warm your heart. Aragorn has reason to lie about your appearance, but not as much as Legolas does. You offer him a compliment as well, "Nonsense - you both look lovely tonight. If you were not King of Gondor I'm sure many would think you an elf."

"Except for the beard, of course." Aragorn points out, eyes briefly flickering to where you assume the elves are.

"Then we have found an advantage for you not to be an elf." Legolas smiles, "It suits you."

The three of you begin to talk, not quite flouncing etiquette with the time you're spending with him, but getting close. Arwen catches your eye, and you see her begin to move towards you - Legolas murmuring in your ear that he will be back soon, unless you need him. You wave him off, before offering a smile and small bow to Arwen. With a laugh that sounds like music, she returns your gestures. "There is no need to bow to me. Your actions have put your standing well beyond mine."

"And the scandal when I don't bow to the queen?" You respond, trying to keep the mood cheerful while anxiety begins to swirl in your stomach. Realistically, Arwen doesn't mean anything by it - but the dip where velvet sits on scar tissue instead of regular skin goes from unnoticeable to uncomfortable. The wound on your finger almost seems to catch on something, even though it is long healed, and you're reminded of the perception of elves. It is said that scars tell a story - does that mean your mistakes are imprinted on your body for any elf to read?

At exactly the wrong time, Legolas appears again with an elleth maiden. No - not a maiden, a captain of the guard; except you would be forgiven for mistaking her to be a noble, or a muse for some talented artist. You recognise the name when Legolas introduces her, and your mind connects her to stories he's told - stories of grave danger. Except they've made her glow while they would have made you bruise. What would have been a scar on your face is not even an imperfection on hers. Taking a deep breath, you bow before introducing yourself.

You can see recognition in her eyes before she bows back, eyes flickering from you to him as she stoops. The action only worsens your nausea, and not even the presence of your love can alleviate them. Surrounded by three elves (and a man who is so fair he may as well be one) you feel even worse, and you duck to excuse yourself from the conversation.

Lost in the ballroom, you try to judge where you should go based on the presence of people. There are very few people near the food, and you realise you've missed the window. Not that the nausea would help in keeping any food down. Instead, you gravitate to a place with a manageable amount of people - easing into making small talk with other humans. As the conversation ends, a shock greets you as your next companion appears. Another elf.

She's just as beautiful as Legolas' friend, and is wearing a tight-fitting robe of pure white. Keeping up conversation decently well, you manage to hide your nerves until Legolas suddenly appears by your shoulder, holding a plate of food. It's a mixture of proper meals and canapes, but nonetheless a gesture that warns your heart. Swallowing whatever he'd been eating, he holds the plate closer, "For you."

"Thank you." Going for whatever he's eating, you come away with only a small bite - a biscuit-type thing that's thinner than a coin with a patte that tastes like spring. Perfectly elvish food. He doesn’t need to eat as much either, yet another difference. Finishing it, you swallow and smile at him politely while somehow hoping for the elf to come back. To your surprise she does, and you take advantage of the opportunity.

Some architect in Gondor was looking out for you, and you’re soon able to slip away from the crowds. You almost bump into a few people, but you’re elegant enough to not cause too many difficulties. None of the servants running the place stop you either, although there are a few eyebrows at someone dressed in such finery being around there. In fact, you make it all the way to your room before the first ragged breath makes it way out of you - tears threatening to spill, while breathing heavily to stop them. Not that anyone could hear you in your chambers. More tears water your eyes, and you think about letting them escape when a servant knocks on your door.

“Prince Legolas has sent up food, if you would like it.” You can hear the awkwardness in the messenger's voice, “And he wishes to inform you that there is no pressure to rejoin the event. He shall be up with you soon.”

“There’s no need.” You go closer to the door, “Tell him he can be as long as he wants. And you can take the food, I’m not hungry.”

“I will inform him now.” The servant leaves, and you listen to their footprints slowly fade away until you're alone again. Which is when you feel ‘safe’ enough to begin to break down.

✧

It feels like only a second ago you were by his side, but when Legolas looks around the room he cannot see you anywhere. The plate of food he still has for the two of you feels heavy in his hand, but he keeps hold of it while scanning the ballroom and walking around it. The two of you need to eat, after all. On his second lap of the ballroom Legolas realises that you’ve left, properly, and goes to one of the servants - asking for them to deliver the food and inform you that he’ll come to you shortly, and that you should feel no pressure to attend this event.

He excuses himself as quickly as he can, citing the ball as becoming overwhelming to the few who ask and hurrying up the stairs. The turns to your shared chambers are becoming muscle memory to him, although normally the two of you make this trip together - sharing your thoughts on whatever you’d just done, or talking about nothing in particular to not focus on the stresses of the day. As he approaches your floor he realises he hears no movement, and the only sound is him opening the door.

Until Legolas keeps moving forward - and his ears begin to pick up the stifled sound of sobbing. Of your crying. It makes him hurry up, going towards you as fast as he can until he truly realises that something is seriously wrong. The steps are still quick, but not running, and his mind begins to pace through what could be happening so that he may try and comfort you.

When he sees the plate outside your door, untouched and discarded, an idea of what’s happened begins to come to him. He knows the food that he’s picked out is your favourite, and so it won’t be that that’s stopping you. Getting to the door he gently knocks on it, and hears your cries suddenly begin to halt. He can hear the constricted breaths, and rushes to reassure you, “You can cry, meleth nîn. And please, may I come in?”

There’s silence at first, and he adds to his statement. “If you truly don’t want me here you can say, but I cannot hear you cry and do nothing about it. I want to help.”

Although there’s still no verbal response from you, he can hear a slight shuffling - and there is no voice of protest. Legolas begins to open the door, just enough to slip in before letting it shut behind him. As soon as he’s in the room his eyes go to you, heart slightly breaking as he sees the red rim around your eyes - the way they are still glassy. He can see your light tremble, as you stop yourself from crying in front of him, and he instantly goes to your side. “Please, never be afraid to cry in front of me.”

Legolas begins to pull you into him, and that’s what finally breaks the dam as you feel yourself begin to sob as tears stream from your face. He still holds you close, pulling you into a warm hug - letting you hear his steady heartbeat. He doesn’t force you to stop crying, merely humming and gently tracing circles on your back. “You can let it out… I’m here… don’t worry, I’m not going to leave.”

He holds you in his arms for as long as you need, until you finally stop and begin to shuffle out of his grasp - realising you’ve wept all over his shirt. He begins to let you go, but doesn’t let you stray far. Watching and waiting for you to be ready to talk. “I’m here for you.”

“I know.” You try to give him a smile, but it comes out watery - and you can feel the puff around your eyes, the fact they must be red and horrible. Some of the thoughts must show on your face because he frowns slightly, pulling you closer again.

“You know you are beautiful, meleth nîn.” When Legolas says it to you he says it with such sincerity, gently kissing you on the forehead. “You are beautiful like this as well, and I love you like this.”

Although it makes you smile, you try to protest. “I’ve just been crying-”

“And?”

“And my eyes will be horrible and red-”

“They look perfect to me.” His interruptions are gentle, but you can tell he means them. “All this shows is emotion, emotions like sadness, or like love. If you stop your eyes from shining in happiness it will be a bad day for all.”

“I’m not crying in happiness.”

“I’d rather your eyes show all emotion than none.” He seeks out your eye contact, and now that he’s mentioned love being visible in your eyes you can see it in his. In the way they round slightly with care, but have a faint shine in them that gets larger as you begin to smile - a shine you can only interpret as love. It is steady, and ever present, but seems especially obvious now.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“When all my imperfections disappear?” You try to put on a teasing tone, but it falls slightly flat.

“Imperfections?” His head tilts in genuine confusion, eyes searching your body but never landing on a specific place, almost as if he cannot find them. “If even elven eyes cannot see them, I begin to doubt they are there.”

The gesture makes you laugh, but you still hold out your hand to him - palm up for him to see the callouses. When he sees them a hand instantly closes around them, his fingers joining and resting against yours in a familiar position. Simply, he says, “The callouses by which I know it is your hand I am holding? The ones that show the dedication you have, the time we’ve spent together?”

Eyes searching, he follows your gaze to the other parts that stick out to you, resting a hand there or giving it a small kiss - each time with only love in his gaze, and no disgust. Then you realise you’ve run out of places, and Legolas can look into your eyes again. “I don't think I've ever loved someone like I've loved you."

A/N : Hopefully you enjoyed, and the comfort at the end as worth it. Finally getting back into writing one-shots, so will be attempting more of my inbox. Thanks so much for reading to the end, and feedback is always welcome!

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @ferns-fics / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 / @stormchaser819 / @raikan624 ✧ wish to be tagged/update your taglist?

[thedarkdisgrace]

Thread analysis from my twitter about soukoku & Dazai specific stuff in this DA art since people were interested in my thoughts on it lol reminder it’s my personal interpretations on it.

This is part 2 essentially of the original post. This focuses just on Dazai and Chuuya.

Alright, so I’ll just start by readdressing a point from my other post just for convenience for people who didn’t see the other post. You can reread this or skip down to my newer points. Red thread typically symbolizes those who are destined to be together.

Dazai has the red thread of fate wrapped around his neck. Chuuya has one end & it's wrapped around his wrist, that seems to symbolize he's holding Dazai's life in his hands. It’s also wrapped around the wrist where Chuuya has his childhood scar, the one proving he’s human.

An obvious link to their shared humanity to me, despite they, themselves, not believing in their own. But it’s no surprise Chuuya holds one side of Dazai’s life, we all know they're inexplicably linked & fated. Chuuya is always there to save Dazai & Asagiri said he's the only one who understands Dazai always.

But it's interesting the other half of Dazai's string is first wrapped around his own wrist before continuing to Aku. This essentially saying Dazai holds his own life in his hands. Which obviously seems super accurate since we know his biggest enemy is often his own mind & the hole inside his chest that he has a hard time filling. It's where his suicidal tendencies come from. But essentially, Dazai's life is held only by Chuuya & then himself and I love that detail.

Moving on. Another thing I found interesting about Dazai in this art (& in DA in general) is that he is wearing an all white suit with a black inner shirt. While Chuuya is in his typical black outer coat & white inner shirt.

I believe this choice serves to emphasize the “yin/yang” of their relationship. The red thread bounds them together while their individual natures complement/complete each other, making them whole. Dazai seems to often see himself/his soul as truly dark by nature even as he lives in the light now, so it seems fitting.

He utilizes his darker nature to *protect* the light now, as he understands the darkness (the villains) that come for those in the light. I touched on that above as well.

Chuuya is the opposite but also similar. Chuuya having a “lighter” soul/heart by nature despite being shrouded in darkness. This is showcased in his fierce protective nature of those he cares for as well as the city he protects. His intense, unyielding belief that, despite all he has been through, people are *worth* suffering for, they’re *worth* protecting.

This in contrast to Dazai when they first met who believed “nothing he could pursue is worth the cost of prolonging this life”.

Chuuya believes people are worth it even while still living in the darkness (which it’s important to note dark doesn’t equal evil, everyone is grey and everyone has a role to play).

But even while living in it, *despite* it, he still holds onto his light. His humanity. Humanity is a consistent theme between Dazai & Chuuya.

They both end up making the other feel human, feel alive. Even their abilities are almost named *for* each other.

Chuuya’s ‘no longer human’ when corruption takes over, until Dazai brings him back to it. (Just to be clear, Chuuya is human. That was confirmed).

Dazai is ‘the tainted sorrow’ that Chuuya is able to awaken from that sorrow with his very nature, his vibrant showcase of humanity. I believe it’s his relationship he was able to form with Chuuya that not only kept him alive (“Chuuya convinced me not to die yet”) but also opened Dazai to the possibility that there *are* people worth it out there. It’s why he was open enough to form his relationships with Oda and Ango.

But despite their struggles, despite their methods even, they both are trying to protect what they can. Both have the capability of acting in the light & dark in equal measure.

Essentially, they’re both made up of different light & darknesses but they end up completing each other.

It’s also interesting they put Chuuya on Dazai’s “good” side. The side Dazai’s see the light with. Kinda shows you how Dazai views Chuuya.

—

Something else about Dazai’s clothes, he seems to be wearing a yellow ribbon on his “darker” side. Which I find very interesting given the yellow wrapped ribbon normally represents suicide *prevention*.

Yellow in Japanese culture also tends to represent courage, which is also fitting, it even used to represent role models.

(This next part I’m definitely reading too much into it but I still found it fun and interesting!)

But moving to the next interesting pieces, Dazai is holding an apple in his hand on his “darker” side. Given Dazai talks about apple suicide (+ being called dead apple) it seems these 2 pieces are at odds with each other.

The apple in this context representing death/suicide while the ribbon represents life/prevention.

But Dazai is holding an apple in his hand on his “darker” side. Given Dazai talks about apple suicide (+ being called dead apple) it seems these 2 pieces are at odds with each other.

The apple in this context representing death/suicide while the ribbon represents life/prevention.

So in this art, is the idea of apple suicide representing a dark irony? Dazai seeing death as good fortune? Or is the apple only representing the more surface level contrast of death with the ribbon being life? I think that’s up to interpretation.

Small side note, Chuuya’s hat being placed over his heart is definitely deliberate. The hat that helps protect his humanity, the hat that helps offer Chuuya some control, sitting atop of & covering his heart makes sense. It’s almost as armor, protecting his “light” as it were.

Now to talk about Dazai being the only one “awake” as it were & the specific eye that’s uncovered.

The fact it's the eye that used to be covered in the PM is an important choice. Especially given the eye that was open with the PM is closed.

Dazai seems to be seeing more of the good now, maybe even is starting to see the true value in light.

However, it's only because of his dark past he's been able to survive & help save the ada multiple times. I believe that's why it's *that* wrist, the wrist helping covering that eye that was open while in the mafia, that is bound by the red thread of fate.

That wrist being wrapped up symbolizing how he partly holds his own life in his hands (along side Chuuya holding the other part). His fate is bound by *both* his sides, the light & dark in equal measure.

Dazai holds one side for his own life because not only is he his own worse enemy but he ironically (sadly) can't live completely without that dark side of him.

It's the part that wants him to end his life but it's also thanks to that side & what he went through that he can survive so well now & help others. It’s allowed him to understand the villains they face. Of course his past is a tragedy, but what we go through makes us who we are. At least he can use it to save people now.

Another point, (this more of a stretch) the overall theme here seems to be fate, since the thread of fate is predominately featured.

Dazai being the only one with his eye open, the only one awake, could also mean he knows something about their fates that no one else does.

Maybe since his “light” eye is open it’s a good thing. But it could possibly even be linked to the book, either that he knows more about the book & what it contains more than everyone else or (& this is a much bigger stretch) that he may even have read/seen briefly a piece of the book

Maybe whatever the reason is part of the real reason he picked up both Atsushi & Akutagawa & formed shin soukoku. Because for all his & Chuuya’s might, they need something *specific* for what’s coming. Something only shin soukoku has & we already know Atsushi is connected to the book.

Plus the thread of fate is linking them *all* together here. Some more connected to each other obviously, soukoku together & then sskk + kyoka. But again, this last part is very much a stretch but it’s just something fun to think about.

I hope all this made sense. Like i said, this is all just my interpretations so take it as you will. Everyone is free to have their own interpretations & opinions. I definitely went a little overboard & went deeper than just the art itself but oh well lol

If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed my interpretations! Again some are deeper than originally intended & some are much more a stretch but thanks for coming to my ted talk lol

[pastanest]

A/N: unbelievably, this is the first actual piece of Doctor Who writing not counting the dogshit on my wattpad account we’ll all pretend that doesnt exist fr so please be nice x

Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve x gender neutral!reader

The Doctor x Short!Reader

- is cheeky about it but not outright mean, unless he’s in one of his God-humans-are-the-fucking-worst moods

“Honestly, it’s like you idiots are TRYING to wipe your own planet out of existence, and you, well, you can't even reach the top of your own cupboards! What use are any of you?!”

- you’re literally on his side and think the human race sucks but ok go off, way to throw us all under the bus lol

- he’ll apologize afterwards if you’re clearly upset or if he thinks he went too far

- most of the time it’s very lighthearted jabs at your height

- always waits a few seconds before helping you reach something because he thinks it’s funny and also very sweet but he won't dare admit that

- as much as he convinces himself and everyone he encounters that your height is solely something he finds hilarious on occasion, he can't help feeling a little more protective of you, like your smaller form makes you more likely to break

- very much still recovering from the Time War, he’s prone to overthinking disaster scenarios, especially when it comes to you

“Stay behind me. These creatures can't be trusted at the best of times.”

- but you always find a way to spin it into something more lighthearted, to ease his mind

“I’m a smaller target than you, so I like my chances! Perhaps it’s you that should stay behind me?”

- won't make fun unless he knows for a fact you’re comfortable with it

- as soon as he finds out you are, he makes jokes only in a very lighthearted way

- also comes up with cute nicknames to use when you’ve done something that’s impressed him, like saved a civilization or two while he was busy being broody and hot or something

“Oh, you little star!”

- generally speaking, he doesnt really care about your height, but he does find it endearing

- he’ll never see it as a point of weakness

- if he ever finds you struggling to reach something or down in the dumps about clothes not fitting you right because of your smaller proportions, he’s always right there to lift your chin back up and remind you of the wonderful person you are, that your stature holds no sway over how brilliant you are, especially not to him

“Some of the most mighty species in all the galaxies are the smallest ones you’ll find, some don't even have physical bodies big enough to detect with the human eye! Each and every one is perfectly unique in their own way, and you are no different. The stars you’ve seen in the night skies all your life, are they any less magical for appearing so small?”

“No…”

“Exactly! And, you know, the more humans I meet, the more I realize how similar you are to Time Lords.”

“In what way?”

- and then he’s grinning down at you, all giddy about getting to use the line he loves hearing more than any other

“You’re all so much bigger on the inside.”

- will make a joke about your height to test the water

- if your reaction tells him you’re not okay with it, he’ll feel guilty for the rest of eternity and never do it again

- but if you laugh with him or roll your eyes with a smile, he’ll grin like he’s accomplished something great, cracked some impossible code, and he will wear that like a badge of honor

- regardless of the fact you’ve made it clear he is allowed to make fun of your height, if anyone else does it in front of him, he doesn't like it

“Well, surely the smallest one should be sent in first, their loss would be the least noticeable!”

- and the Doctor is straight up, clapping his hands together and pointing in all directions as he lays out the plan of action very clearly to all involved, ending it by pointing at the man who dared make fun of you

“Now, you. From what I gather, jokes are supposed to be funny- supposed to land laughs with the nearest crowd; clearly you missed that memo, but that’s fine. Depending on (Y/N)’s reaction to your poor excuse for a joke, I’ve got a snowglobe with a blackhole suspended within it that I think you’d fit just perfectly in. (Y/N)?”

- the man looks terrified, and you try your best to refrain from laughing at him as you raise an eyebrow in dramatic silence

“Jury’s still out, see if he survives this first.”

the Doctor claps his hands again. “Cool! I’m never saying that again, but it would be very uncool of me to have to trap you inside a snowglobe that would tear you atom from atom in a continuous, brutal cycle, so consider that a warning.”

- takes the ABSOLUTE piss, don't ever think he won't

- will 110% pretend he can't see you and stare right over your head

- will 1000% make up short-based nicknames all the time

“Hello there, Short Round.”

“Really showing your age with that one.”

“Oh, what was that? A tiny and insignificant mouse, or perhaps it was the wind, arguing with me?”

- you’d think in all his whimsical, magical, time-travelling glory with his constant bustling about and his mind going a mile a minute in the most erratic fashion possible, he wouldn't notice your height, let alone find the time to make a joke in literally any setting, but oh boy, does he

“Is everyone clear on their roles in my carefully laid out plan, because I know that the accent can be difficult, but if I have to explain it again I think I’d rather do everything myself and you can all sit here with (Y/N) and applaud me when I get back.”

“Wait, sit here with me? Why aren't I coming with you?!”

“Because you’re-”

- he gestures to you with his hands, up and down, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you’re sighing because you already know what he’s referring to

“What does my height have to do with anything?!”

“You’re all compact, like a foldable deckchair or one of those raincoats that turns into a conveniently sized pouch. It’s frankly distracting and my pockets are full so you cant sit in any of them.”

- he never laughs at his own jokes but sometimes he makes you WHEEZE with the inventive short jokes he comes up with

- similarly to Nine, though, he also can't help viewing you as more breakable, not only because you’re a human, but a very short one, too

- despite him completely understanding the biology of humans, he is convinced that a papercut on you is the same as an average-sized person getting stabbed

- so yes, he takes the piss at absolutely every chance he gets, but if he sees someone else trip you up by accident or hand you a piece of paper and it cuts your finger in the most barely noticeable way, he will be a GRUMP

- consider the paper in your hands stolen, read very passive aggressively, then scrunched up into a ball, possibly chewed or ripped apart or even thrown on the floor and stamped on

- consider the person who accidentally hurt you the subject of his rage until they are out of his sight. every time they speak, they’re met with a “Shut it!”

- and you’re like “Doctor, there’s really no need-”

“That IMBECILE tripped you up approximately 3 AND A HALF HOURS AGO, and you think I’m overreacting? You could have DIED!”

- such a drama queen