#but more human and more open (which is to say. he sort of expresses himself. sometimes.)

[bnesszai]

i am having many thoughts on how Dazai's humanity has shifted from his pm days to now, at the ada, and how this has effected his relationships with various people in different ways and i--

[magewritesstories]

[ SPENCER REID ] GIRL DINNER

cw. you and spencer are alone in the bullpen after a long case and you introduce him to girl dinner, guest starring spencer's glasses bc why not. [ fluff ] note. i used what my comprehension of girl dinner is but there's a lot of different opinions on what it's supposed to be. wc. 622

THE BULLPEN IS QUIET AS THE CLOCK STRIKES 11:30 PM. Spencer sat in his office, wondering why he ever took Emily up on the offer of becoming Unit Chief.

The pile of unwritten reports seemed never-ending, and the pile of written ones barely growing.

The man sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, casting a glance out his office window to look at the single lit light coming from your desk, where you're also hunched over a profile.

He quickly checks the time on his watch and gets up.

"You should head home, it's late," he stated, leaning against Luke's desk, which was parallel to yours.

You looked up from the report in your hand. "It's okay, I'm almost done anyway—what about you?"

"That doesn't count, I'm unit chief," he replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

"I didn't realize unit chiefs weren't human," you replied with a teasing tone.

Spencer just shrugged. "I told JJ I'd write her share of reports so that she could go home and spend some time with Henry and Michael. What's your excuse?"

"Just looking at the pile of unwritten reports on your desk made me tired," you answered. "I didn't want to add to it."

"I don't mind, you know."

"I know, but just because you don't mind doesn't mean I should take advantage of it every time—besides, believe it or not, I had nowhere to be anyway."

You gave him a small smile that made his heart flutter.

He stayed quiet for a minute (by accident) before quickly clearing his throat. "Uhm, have you—have you had dinner?"

"Sort of," you shrugged. "I had girl dinner if that counts."

Spencer frowned as he said something he found himself saying a lot more often with you around, "I—I don't—I don't know what that means."

You used your pen (pink with a small kitten attached to it—probably from Penelope's 'Batcave') to point at the empty plate sitting at the far edge of your desk.

"I had a small container of yogurt, a cup-o-noodles, and some apple slices," you explained.

"That's just a bunch of different snacks," Spencer blinked in confusion.

You shook your head as you corrected him, "Actually, it's a bunch of leftovers I found in the fridge—don't tell Terry, he's very serious about his yogurt."

"Still not sustainable," he countered with a smile, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"It's three out of the five main food groups," you replied with a grin. "Besides, it's not like I eat like this every day. I just didn't want to waste time getting dinner when I wasn't that hungry anyway."

You leaned against your chair, spinning slightly, as you looked at the slight crease between his brows.

"Tell you what, boss," you said, "If my choice of dinner bothers you that much, why don't we go out?"

"Wha—what?" he asked, snapping out of his daze.

You smiled at his flustered expression. "For dinner, obviously. C'mon, my treat, y'know, for being such a great boss."

"I—I—"

"It'll be fun," you insisted. "There's this great Thai place that opened a few streets down from that bar we went to the other day. JJ said you don't know how to use chopsticks, and I would love to see you try."

Spencer shook his head. "I taught myself, actually. I can use them now."

"Great, I guess you can prove it to me," you replied.

"You really think that place is still open right now?"

"Yep, opening hours are from 7 to 2," you answered. "So if we can finish these reports before then, we should be fine."

Spencer sighed before giving you a smile. "I'm going to try."

"Great, it's a date!" you exclaimed as he turned back around to walk to his office.

You were going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

[the-ineffable-dance]

Holy Palmers Kiss

Throughout their history together, the romance between Aziraphale and Crowley has mostly been expressed through incredibly subtle ways. It's been centuries (if not millennia) of nothing more obvious than a surreptitious brushing of hands or yearning looks when they think no one is watching. And of course, when they have plenty of deniability.

Good work, Aziraphale... hand on the chest of the Thin Dark Duke, and if anyone asked, you were just making sure that young lady didn't get bumped.

And this is for a very good reason. It quite literally isn't safe for them to be openly romantic with one another, even now. Demons like Hastur and Shax are constantly popping up... Michael and Uriel are always watching... eyes are everywhere.

They have certainly gotten closer to being open in the years that separate the two seasons. Crawley sprawls all over that bookshop like he has a personal vendetta against chairs - removes his glasses as soon as he steps foot inside (which is an incredibly coded action that I would love to take a more in depth look at in the future) - gives up the keys to the Bently... And Aziraphale himself has those longing looks - calls him up to talk enough that Crowley knows his "tones of voice" - and then, we get The Ball.

Technically, The Ball is for Nina and Maggie... or at least that's what Aziraphale says. We get the lovely little moment in the pub where he and Crowley try to come up with the best ways to get humans to fall in love with each other. But the moment Aziraphale mentions Jane Austen having characters dancing with each other and realizing how in love they were, I think at least for him the focus changes to this... THE BALL IS FOR CROWLEY. And once he starts giving away books to make sure the ball will be perfect, there can be no question. The entire idea is a way for him to be able to dance with Crowley.

That's why, for me, the most romantic moment in all of Good Omens, at least from Aziraphale's point of view, is this moment right here.

Vavoom! Sorted! Look at the way Crowley even curls his fingers around Aziraphale's hand! This is peak Aziraphale romance as a fan of Jane Austen.

But he's also a fan of Shakespeare. Even the gloomy ones. And every time I watch this scene, I'm reminded of a different ball from one of the gloomy plays that Crowley would hate and Aziraphale would swoon over. Romeo and Juliet. A fitting parallel to an angel and a demon being in love.

In Romeo and Juliet, at the end of the first act, is another ball. Romeo tries to get Juliet to kiss him, and she turns him down with this...

"For saints have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch/ And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss"

There's quite the back and forth here between Juliet and her Romeo about hands and lips and such, (and eventually Romeo gets his way) but the parallel for Aziraphale in this exchange is unmistakable. He, as the angel, is the saint (and stand in for Juliet), Crowley his pilgrim. Snogging in public would be absolutely out of the question for our dear prim and proper Aziraphale... but this is a chaste kiss, and one that he is showing the world. A public declaration of his love for Crowley. A Holy Palmer's Kiss.

It's certainly debatable if Crowley would have picked up on it. Like a lot of their coded language there are times when one of them misses what the other is trying to say. But in my opinion, this was not only a public declaration, but his confession to Crowley. This is his "I love you" as much as "I forgive you" is.

Just for fun, here's how Romeo finally gets his kisses (but let's have Crowley stand in for Romeo and Aziraphale for Juliet, shall we?)

Cro. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. (They kiss)

Azi. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Cro. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again. (They kiss again)

[t3a-tan]

Romantic and Hopeless (6/?)

First / Previous / Next

---

Sammy kept her eyes closed after yelling, breathing heavily, her expression pulled into a grimace as if bracing for something. She was waiting for a reaction— anger, amusement, pain— it didn't matter which, but she was certain it would be one of them. It always was.

And then she felt herself being lowered down, eyes shooting open again at the feeling of wood beneath her. The fingers around her released and pulled away, and Sammy watched as those giant hands rubbed together as if his fingers had been burnt by the contact.

“I…I'm sorry…”

She bristled at the apology, eyes wide with surprise as she cradled her injury close. She scooted back until her back hit the wall, brows furrowing with confusion. Sorry was the last word she expected to come from the human's mouth. She was catching her breath, staring up at him, unable to formulate a response.

“I…” Sammy watched as Oscar bit his lip and trailed off, his expression showing clear guilt mixed in with a bit of distress. Why would he be distressed? He's the one with all the power here. He leaned forward for a moment, his mouth opening as if to speak only to hesitate again when his approach made her flinch back. Her shoulders tensed as he cleared his throat.

“Sammy… Y-you uh… you know I'm not going to hurt you…right?” She didn't respond, expression growing wary. Oscar slowly shifted back, lowering his head more. “I.. thought you knew that. I guess I shouldn't have assumed after everything you've gone through that you'd trust me… But I really won't hurt you.”

Oh how she wanted to believe it… but it simply wasn't possible. Humans were not capable of being good to her kind for long. Thanks to Ryker Sammy had been in the eyes of many humans, and thanks to Wells she had been in the hands of many more. She was an expert on how humans treated borrowers…

Sooner or later, Oscar would snap at her too.

“Yes you will. H-humans…humans always hurt people like me…” She responded, wiping at her watery eyes, her lips pressed into a scowl even as she continued to take in shuddery breaths. “You— you just haven't decided what you want to do to me yet…”

Oscar's expression turned into one of subdued horror at her words, then shifted in confusion and guilt. He leaned down a little more, his hands pressed into the floor now to brace himself, although they remained a distance away. Not far enough for Sammy to feel safe by any means, but that ship had long sailed.

“First of all— I know exactly what I want to do… and that's help you. Whatever ideas you have in your mind about that sort of stuff…I—I would never hurt you. Never.” He insisted, tone edging on pleading. His brows then furrowed as he continued.

“Second of all though… Sammy— I thought you said you got shrunk, right? So why are you saying humans like that? And people like you…?” He questioned slowly.

Sammy froze. In the panic of everything she had completely forgotten that she answered yes to his question earlier about being shrunk— Oh God. This makes it ten times worse.

She could feel her breathing getting faster again, her mind immediately going to the fact that she knew borrowers sold for a lot of money on the black market. Even just the thought of being back in the hands of Wells or others like him made her skin crawl.

“Please, Sammy… please explain everything to me— I… I just want to help you. I can't help when I don't even know what's going on…” Now he really was begging her, and he sounded so sincere… Sammy opened her mouth but hesitated and averted her gaze, staying quiet.

After several seconds passed, a warm sigh washed over her and she cowered back as Oscar began to stand up again, meeting his concerned eyes with surprise. Why isn't he breaking character? I already called him out…

“Please wait there. I'm just gonna…I'll get the first aid kit. And some ice…if we have any.” She watched as he walked away, her eyes following him into the kitchen but her back remaining pressed up against the wall.

He's…leaving me unattended? Again? After I just tried to escape? I know I'm injured, but…

Sammy looked down at her twisted ankle, gathering her breath as she inspected the sprain. It wasn't too severe, but it was noticeable… Maybe a week of healing? It might give her a limp if she rushed things, but she might need to rush things in this situation.

She glanced towards the doorway into the kitchen again, gaze wary and discerning. She could see Oscar's towering figure in the distance as he searched through the cupboard under the sink, presumably for the first aid kit.

She wiped her eyes again, some of the adrenaline that had been rushing through her beginning to fade, and leaving her leg to ache even more. Sammy winced, hunching over and hugging onto her knees, still staring in the direction of the human.

Her soulmate.

Why is my soulmate a human? I don't think I could ever love a monster like that… even if he sounds so nice, he's lying. He has to be… Even when he listened to me, it's a trick. It's not real.

And yet, Sammy stayed where she was, waiting for him to return with the first aid kit and ice. Soon, after rummaging around in the freezer he seemed to give up and started walking in her direction again.

After being lost in her own thoughts watching the giant move about from a distance Sammy couldn't help but be a little startled by his approach. She shifted away once before managing to stay where she was sitting, her body trembling.

The red box was set down a foot away from where she sat, and she flinched as it was. Oscar followed soon after, crouching, then kneeling. He clicked open the box and Sammy watched those giant invasive fingers delicately brush through the contents of the box; searching for specific supplies no doubt.

“We didn't have ice.. um… but I'll go out and get an ice pack from the shop in a sec. First you should disinfect those scrapes and wrap up your ankle…” He placed a few different things close to her and Sammy bristled once she processed his words.

“..me…?”

Oscar paused, looking down at her and offering a sad half-smile.

“Well yeah. You said you don't want me to touch you after all… My hands are probably too big to do it properly anyway, so yeah.” He explained. His smile then fell and he let out a sigh. “And I'm sorry— about grabbing you like that? It was pretty bang out of order… I just saw you were hurt and wanted to help, but I should have asked first.”

Sammy blinked in surprise, her eyes widening just a tad at his words.

He's…apologising… again? I don't understand.

Hesitantly, she shuffled over to the disinfectant wipe and bandages he had set down, first picking up the wipe after giving Oscar a confused side glance. As soon as she had grabbed it she quickly scooted back into the corner again. He made no moves to grab her…

Sammy swallowed nervously and began to dab at the scrapes, face scrunching into a wince at the cold sting it caused. Even so, she continued cleaning them before glancing up at Oscar again. He had moved back a bit since putting the supplies next to her. She bit her lip.

“I… I-I'm a borrower… Not a human…” She admittedly softly. Her eyes quickly shot up to inspect Oscar's expression to watch his reaction. She expected anger, or maybe a smirk, but he just seemed…confused. His head tilted sheepishly.

“What's a borrower..?”

Sammy flinched at the question, looking back down at her ankle again as she began to carefully wrap it up. She thought about her words first, still considering not telling him anything else…but something about the way he was looking at her made her want to tell him.

“We're…little people… that live in the walls of human houses, and take stuff that won't be missed. Like paperclips, scraps of paper, crumbs, that sort of stuff. Some borrowers live in the trees instead. But we try our best not to get seen by humans…” She explained.

As she heard the floorboards creak again under Oscar's weight her gaze quickly snapped to focus on him again, only to see that he was laying down; his cheek now rested on his forearms folded in front of him. The tension in her body faded once she realised he was just getting more comfortable.

“Makes sense… Humans can be pretty shitty about new discoveries and all. And most people would be pretty peeved about someone stealing their shit.” He remarked with a hum.

“..not you though..?” Sammy asked, noticing that he said most people would, not I would.

Oscar shook his head, his strawberry red hair falling in front of his eyes slightly. A gentle smile formed on his lips. Sammy felt her heart hammer in her chest again, but this time it wasn't accompanied by the usual cold terror pumping through her veins.

“Be pretty hypocritical if I were. You know I don't have a great track record with the law…and it's because I've stolen stuff before. Mostly food, sometimes other stuff.” He explained. “A lot of humans don't like me much too for that reason.”

Sammy tore off the edge of the bandage as she finished wrapping her ankle, making sure it was secure. She frowned. I thought humans didn't have to steal food… They always seem to have it…

The rustling of clothes moving met her ears, causing her to look up at Oscar again as he leaned forward a little more. From this close she could see his green eyes through the blue lenses; shining with concern.

“So did you get…caught? By humans? Is that why you were in that…oddly high-tech basement?” He asked softly, his expression turning more sombre with the subject matter.

Sammy averted her gaze again, nodding slowly. She could remember that day like it was yesterday. The panic and chaos as her mum tried to get her and her brother to safety. The sight of her dad trapped under bits of smashed up wall, unmoving, bleeding. The first time she felt the now-familiar sensation of giant fingers wrapping around her.

She shuddered at the memory.

“Just…one day they broke down the walls, and before we knew it we were being handed over to Dr. Ryker. It's been so long, it feels weird to be outside of his lab. I-I just feel on edge. Nothing makes sense anymore like it used to…” Her shoulders tensed again as she hugged underneath her knees, looking at the grains on the wood below instead of up at Oscar.

“Hey… I…It's okay if you feel on edge and stuff. I'm still not gonna hurt you… And I won't let that monster get a hold of you again.” He sounded so serious, Sammy wanted to believe that he would protect her.

Her eyes widened and quickly looked up again as she realised something.

“Shit. Ryker's probably noticed I'm gone by now… Oscar— Did you take care of the cameras when you came in?” She asked urgently. In the heat of the moment she hadn't even thought to ask, and now that she was thinking about it she felt nauseous.

The red-haired human paled at her question.

“I-it was dark— I didn't even…” He stammered as he immediately realized how badly he had fucked up. He genuinely hadn't thought about there being cameras in that secret lab, because it was dark and definitely an illegal lab. He hadn't seen any red dots in the corners to signal that a camera was running, and he let his guard down.

Sammy felt a cold chill run up her spine.

“He— he's gonna find me again… He'll probably kill me…” She breathed, her vision unfocusing for a moment before darting up to meet the human's gaze, eyes wide. “Oscar— he's gonna kill you. You’re literally walking distance away from his lab. H-he might already be on his way..!”

At the very least she had her size to her benefit in terms of hiding… Oscar on the other hand was a sitting duck. If Ryker found out where he lived…

“We need to leave.”

“Wh— I-I can't just leave. I have no clue when my mum will be back— what if she gets hurt?” He protested at her suggestion. Sammy grimaced at the mention. As much as she viewed humans as monsters, she could definitely empathise with that sentiment. She wouldn't be much better than a human if she ignored Oscar's feelings on the matter.

“I.. I don't think he would hurt her. Ryker's a prick, but if there was nothing to gain I don't think he would just hurt another human randomly— if anything she's more likely to get hurt if you stay here, because Ryker can use her as collateral with me.” She pointed out.

As soon as she said that though she regretted it and her eyes went wide, body tensing. What if he decides to hand me over now just to avoid getting hurt? I know it's understandable, but I don't want to go back. I-I can't…

She scooted herself back slightly again, glancing towards the shelves that were a few feet away. Even if she got there it would only be a temporary solution. She looked back up at Oscar, but he didn't seem to notice her anxiety, his expression concerned and in deep thought, not even focused on her.

Soon enough, he reached a decision. Sammy bristled as his gaze fell upon her again, awaiting her doomed verdict.

“Okay. Okay… I'll text my mum and tell her I'll be at Freddie’s in case she gets back. I know a place we can stay. Nothing homey…not that this place is that homey either, but it'll do.”

She blinked in surprise.

What…he'll actually help..? But…

“You’re not going back there again. Over my dead body.” He spoke firmly. Her heart fluttered and a warmth filled her chest at his words, not expecting him to be so resolved about keeping her away from Ryker. Her muscles relaxed slightly, the urge to dash for cover fading quickly as she stared up at him.

“I…I'll have to put you in my pocket again though so we can get there… Is that okay?” He asked softly. This time Sammy didn't feel as petrified over the idea. Sure it would be uncomfortable— one good thing wasn't enough to get rid of the years of bad she had been through, but it was progress.

She nodded, feeling heat rise to her cheeks again as Oscar smiled. Although she couldn't help but flinch as he began to sit up, when he lowered his hand towards her palm up she couldn't help but feel…almost safe. She was sure the feeling would fade soon enough…

“Here. I'll pack some stuff first, then we can head off, yeah?”

Sammy nodded once more, and after a brief moment of hesitation she climbed onto his hand so they could get going as soon as possible.

. . . . .

A light flickered in the distance.

Tanner almost forgot what light looked like. It was that same odd feeling you would get after closing your eyes in a bright room for longer than a few seconds— he knew his memories were bright, but after being surrounded by this all encompassing darkness for so long he just struggled to picture it.

“H-hello…?” His voice echoed in the void, repeating back to him, taunting him with the idea of not being alone. How long had he been stuck here? It could have been a day, it could have been a year, Tanner truly couldn't tell.

He was afraid to go towards the light. Isn't that what people say you see when you die? Am I dying..?

He felt so cold he wouldn't be surprised. Maybe it would even be nice to embrace it. Will it be warm? Maybe I'll see mum and dad again…

Tanner shook his head quickly to dissuade those thoughts. I can't see them. Sammy's still waiting for me… She'll save me soon.

As his gaze fell downwards he let out a small gasp, finding that because of the faint light he could actually see himself again. It was dim, but tears sprung to his eyes just watching his fingers move, staring at them and feeling them with his other hand. They're still here… I'm still here…

The light in the distance flickered again and Tanner's eyes widened as he realised he was going to be plunged into darkness again. He began to try moving towards it, but in a space with no walls, floors, or ceilings, moving felt practically impossible.

“No!”

Please don't make it dark again..! Just a little bit longer!

At this point he had spent so much time isolated that he couldn't tell the difference between thinking and speaking. He reached out in desperation, the light dancing across his skin and making it almost glow red. The sunlight. I remember.

And then it was gone.

Tanner's breath hitched. In the darkness he couldn't see anything. Eyes open or closed, it didn't make a difference, so he wasn't sure which one he picked as tears began to stream down his cheeks, a sob held in his throat and coming out as a whimper as he curled into himself again. He trembled, the abyss swallowing him whole again.

She'll save me soon…

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Starscream is given a bath, Part 3:

1005 words! This is the longest piece so far. I’m really enjoying writing him, but do let me know what you think of my interpretation of Starscream. Does he read accurate to canon?

Enjoy!

Part 2: here

——————————————————————————

She had her hands on her hips as she observed him, contemplating logistics.

“If you wanna lie back in the water, this’ll be easier.”

“Right.” He nodded, carefully lowering himself into the bathtub with his arms on both sides. The human poured more soap into the water, leaning over into the tub and stirring it a little with her hand, sloshing the water around to mix it together. The result was quite a few bubbles, which clung to the sides and to the seeker’s spiky knees poking out of the water. The human got to work, and neither of them made a sound for some time.

“You know, if I was a plane, I would LOVE the pressure washer.” She finally filled the silence, while scrubbing his leg.

“You can’t be serious.” Starscream tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms.

“I am serious. Especially if it’s a hot day…”

He lifted his leg slightly out of the water, giving her easier access.

“Hmph. If that’s what you’re into, I suppose.”

“What? It just seems so refreshing.”

“If you truly think so, perhaps I should blast you with it next time.”

That comment earned him a laugh from the human, which actually startled Starscream for a moment. He didn’t know what to do with this! He just smiled awkwardly, listening to her laugh. That smile lingered on Starscream’s face all the while she worked, and he actually found himself…relaxing as the human continued the spa treatment.

After a while she collected herself, speaking up.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I never realised you were… sort of blue before.”

He chuckled for a moment, amused at her surprise. But then his expression turned more somber. It was true, his frame wasn’t truly all gray and dull. He had more blue and white on him than he let on, but he had been neglecting his finish for the past few centuries. Which he had his reasons for, but it wasn’t exactly something he was looking forward to opening up about. At least not today.

“Well- I- It’s not like I had ample opportunity to deal with it! As Second in Command to the Decepticons, I had constant duties to attend to.” He scoffed, crossing his arms.

“I couldn’t be wasting my precious time on such frivolous things as continuously fussing over my finish. Unlike some…” Starscream’s tone had a certain defensiveness to it, something which the human decided not to push when it was obviously something he didn’t want to talk about.

“Hmm. Well, it’s a shame. Your colors are really pretty.”

The seeker pulled himself back upon hearing those words, doing his very best to avoid eye contact with the human.

“What? It’s true!”

“Shut up and keep scrubbing.” He replied with a dismissive wave of his servo, still averting his gaze. Another sudden laugh from the human startled him and he finally looked at her, a smile he tried to hide tugging on the corner of his mouth.

“What are you laughing about, you tiny thing?”

“You like being called pretty.” She replied. “Hold out your arm for me?”

If he was startled, he hid it well and quickly recovered.

“Of course. While it is not the word I would’ve used, I suppose I cannot blame you. After all, it’s only natural you would recognise my exceptional frame.” He replied, trying to act as casual as possible as he brought his arm forward for her to clean. But it was no use, he looked almost shy as he tried to fill the silence, and his wings were clearly fluttering.

“Why, I happen to be the representation of anything a seeker could hope to become, if I do say so myself.”

She moved the soapy sponge up and down and listened to him preen, noting every little little flutter of wings that accompanied his words. Turning his arm around gently, she sprayed a bit of water right into the joint.

“Not only due to my impressive frame-”

Starscream was not used to being touched like this.

“-but also my unmatched skill in the air.”

Being handled like this.

“I was- I am a force to be reckoned with.”

It was still uncomfortable, but simultaneously very not bad. Very not bad at all. She had gradually worked her way down from his shoulder to his wrist joint, stopping at the servo. She held it in between her own hands, sitting over the side of the tub and laying out his talons over her upper leg.

“Are you even listening?”

“Do you want me to file these sharper?”

They spoke at the same time.

He looked down at her, dumbfounded, unable to resist the urge to just squeeze the squishy limb ever so slightly. So warm and pliant, even a little icky in how it simply gave way under his servos. The irony was not lost on him, and this time he didn’t try to hide a grin. This small creature, one who could be so easily wounded by the cut of those very talons, was offering to sharpen them even more. It’s as if she didn’t even know who she was talking to. He had the sudden urge to remind her, to squeeze even more until this human knew to be wary of him, but he pushed it aside. Why was he even thinking that? Besides, she had just worked so hard cleaning him. It would be rude to mar his newfound shine with her blood. Not to mention difficult to wipe off.

“You might as well.” He replied, trying to appear disinterested. But as her fingers glided delicately over his digits, the file in her hand scraping against the tips, he could almost fall into a recharge right then and there. In fact, he did close his optics. Any arrogance that might’ve been preventing him from making a fool of himself was immediately thrown out the window. And if the human noticed she didn’t say a word, just silently repeating the process with his other arm.

[kolyubov]

Ok I need you to hear me out! What about dazai, Fyodor and or Nikolai with a s/o that is the psychologist/therapist for their respective organisation! Is reader aware that they are way beyond redemption? Yes, does reader know that they can't fix them? Also yes, but as their s/o they try their best to save the little sanity they have left by reminding them to take their pills/vitamins, having casual therapy sessions with them and comforting them after (btw I don't think any of them would go to therapy on their own so reader being the therapist of the organisation they are in would make more sense for them to communicate and eventually form a relationship, plus I think a emotionally intelligent reader would really balance them out)

Have a wonderful day or night and don't forget to hydrate!!!!

omg nonnie, this is very interesting! I tried my best to imagine these three going to therapy… sort of.

please remember to hydrate yourself too<33

Therapist s/o!

✧ contents. sfw!!

I'm kind of sure that a psychologist (and I think a therapist too) is not allowed to have a personal relationship with their patient, so I'd like to think that their relationship with their s/o is a secret, at least inside the organization.

Dazai will come to visit you every day even if it's not necessarily for a therapy session.

He only goes to the Agency to see you— I imagine you have a small office inside the building of the Agency, so whenever Dazai is bored, he leaves the Agency's office and goes downstairs to visit you!

For him, it's a good thing that his s/o is also his therapist because he won't open up with anyone else but you. He would ask for you to run your fingers through his fluffy hair as he tells you how his past memories are still tormenting him sometimes.

Since you're a professional and know so much about people's minds, your conversations are always very deep which he's thankful for; knowing that someone understands him and gives him the comfort that he needs badly.

Dazai doesn't need any type of medication I think. Maybe he'll need to sleep better and eat properly but as long as you sleep with him and remind him to take his meals, he'll do as you said<3

-

I believe Fyodor doesn't want therapy, or pills, even if he needs them.

You know his physical and mental health are not the best, and he knows it too, but he doesn't care about it that much.

Maybe the roles would turn upside down? He would ask why you have such opinions and would discuss a lot of philosophical stuff about human beings and their lives and the way they socialize with other humans.

Fyodor would be the stubborn type; like, you would tell him to go out for a walk and get some fresh air because he's lacking vitamin D but he only chuckles and says that he doesn't need to, that he's perfectly fine.

A few hours later he would go out for a walk as you said and left a small bouquet of flowers he collected himself on your desk.

Also, he comes to ask for your opinion on important things before doing them!

-

Nikolai wouldn't take things seriously most of the time. He needs to make silly jokes and tease you as you try to advise him for his own good.

He would gladly take any pills you give him but you need to sit on his lap and give him the pill yourself, then kiss his forehead and call him a good boy. If not, he would refuse the medication.

Sometimes he feels very very down, like; he enters your office with a somber expression and needs to be cuddled as you try to help him solve his problem.

You make him feel happy even if it's just with a kiss on the cheek or words of affirmation<3

Definitely surprises you and teleports behind you as you're doing paperwork.

About his “freedom” thing… As much as you'd like to tell him that it's (almost) impossible, he won't stop trying to reach his goal and will keep on telling you with a big smile how he plans to achieve it. Well… At least he's still your Nikolai for now.

2024 © pinklacydovey

[vampcubus]

Fluffy Yushire Dating headcannons ?

(Anything SFW or NSFW we don’t get enough of this handsome man 🤌🏻)

Thank you if you choice to do this request!

ik my reqs are closed but i need this ok? i love him. still getting a feel for him so bear with me.

𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐂𝐒

SFW

— In typical tsundere fashion, Yushiro tries very hard to convince himself (and you) that he doesn't like you one bit at first. But you're just so beautiful, and kind... and intelligent... it was impossible not to fall for you.

— I think it's a given that no matter who or what you are, once you're in a relationship with him you'll be put on a pedestal. It's just natural for him to treat you like some sort of divine being. He is at your eternal service, at your beck and call for as long as you'll have him.

— Yushiro loves fiercely, but he's quite shy. He honestly doesn't expect you to be affectionate with him, which makes his gawking reactions even better. VERY grateful for every loving touch you spare for the demon, almost trembling with excitement whenever you kiss or embrace him.

— He's quick to thank you for these gestures, even when you insist that he doesn't need to.

— Yushiro is the ultimate gentleman, and quite persistent to be as respectful as possible. Opens doors for you, pulls out your chair before you sit, insists on carrying things for you, etc... acts of service is a vital part of his love language, so please, just let him do things for you.

— He's very protective, so much so that he has to bite his tongue if you're a demon slayer. It's not that he thinks you're a weakling, it's just that he wants you to always be safe.

— He's a bit of a nag, but a well-meaning one, always reminding you to be careful and clear-minded when you have to part ways. Ideally, he'd follow you to the ends of the earth and always watches you leave with a wistful expression.

— Possessive! and quite vocal about it. Easily made jealous and tends to lash out when he thinks someone is trying to compete with him for your attention. He bows his head in shame when you scold him for his behavior, but he perks up when you reassure him that no one could compare to him. That doesn't stop him from getting that smug grin on his face when he witnesses you turning down admirers, referring to him as your lover.

— A sucker for the mushy stuff! nothing's too cheesy to him, he swoons no matter how silly you sound waxing poetic to him about your love.

— You're Yushiro's muse and even before you were officially a couple, he was painting you almost obsessively.

— Yushiro always wants to be by your side, no matter what you're doing. Catching up on laundry? he's right there folding with you. Winding down for bed? he's gingerly removing any accessories from your hair and helping you slip into more comfortable clothes. Even if he doesn't eat human food, he'll sit at the table with you so you don't have to eat alone. He'll take a step back if you need some space of course, albeit reluctantly.

— He's always asking if you need anything of him, to which you always say, "Just your company" and he melts every time.

— Take him out on dates!! doesn't matter where to, he's just happy to spend time with you. Whether you're tugging him along to festivals with flashy entertainment, or stargazing in a secluded getaway, he's having the best time. He feels so human in those moments with you.

NSFW

— Yushiro screams service sub to me. He’s ready to sink to his knees and tend to your every need at a moment’s notice. I think Yushiro's sense of shame goes right out the window the moment your voice takes on that domineering tone.

— Wants to worship you, if only to express his devotion to you.

— Yushiro is at his happiest when he's got his head between your thighs, content to lap at your cunt for hours, and gets annoyed if he's interrupted. He's quite skilled with his tongue, only needing a few pointers before he's a pussyeating master. He prides himself on being the best at pleasuring you and shudders violently when you praise him for it.

— An enthusiastic eater that moans against your sex, especially when you grip his hair or grind against his slick tongue. Gets the cutest pink flush on his pale cheeks and this fucked-out expression like he's in his own little world while he fucks you with his tongue.

— Tell him that he's being such a good boy for you and watch his slitted lavender eyes roll back. Yushiro won't ever touch himself without your permission, but sometimes he gets too overwhelmed and cums untouched. He's always so embarrassed when that happens, unable to meet your eyes as a shameful wet spot soaks his hakama.

— Yushiro loves to give, but truly can't handle receiving at all. He's so sensitive to every touch, his body jerking wildly when stimulated. He always rushes to apologize when he accidentally moves without permission and is overall very obedient.

— He's a total hypocrite that tries to tell you that going down on him is dirty, like sir you can't say anything as someone who just ate pussy 🤨 kindly shut up and let me suck your dick til your legs are shaking.

— All protestations die as soon as you take him into your mouth, lips parted and eyes all misty. Yushiro tries to be quiet, whimpering and whining as softly as possible. But he can't help but moan sluttily when he's close to cumming. Always asks where you want him to cum, no matter how fucked-dumb he is <333 so so polite always.

— Yushiro's pretty vanilla by default, but he's open to all sorts of experimentation. Whatever makes you happy! And to that end, I think it would be wise to remind him that he doesn't have to agree with everything you propose. It's pretty easy to tell when he's uncomfortable with something, even if he won't say it outright.

— He gets emotional when you're soft on him. He'll scrub at any tears that spring to his eyes and denies that he's crying at all. You just make him feel so wanted, and he's eternally grateful to be yours. So pile on the praise, tell him how pretty he looks when he's lost in pleasure, call him sweet names, and pepper soft kisses across his pale skin.

— Can't help but tell you that he loves you over and over during sex.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Thirty-One

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 31

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten]  [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] Part Thirty-One [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You walk back to your ready chambers as quickly as you can without drawing notice, ducking to hide the smile on your face when you pass a couple of servants. You open the doors to your dressing room and almost jump when you recall the number of those waiting anxiously for your return. Steward Bilmont is still there too, collapsed in a chair looking quietly morose while the maids hover in an anxious group near the fireplace. All turn to stare at you when you return. 

You try to pull your expression back to something resembling neutrality as you stride over to your seat in front of your vanity. “All is well,” you say. “There will be no further confusion regarding the wedding.”

“Truly?” Bilmont asks, hope and disbelief in his voice. The maids seem similarly skeptical, but get back to work without a word. Luckily, it looks as though they had been making progress while you were gone—two additional trunks were packed. 

“Yes,” you reply, “there was a misunderstanding.” Which was certainly an understatement, but the most honest explanation you could provide with others present. “It has been straightened out. The wedding is going forward as planned.”

Bilmont threw his hands up. “Thank the light! I didn’t know what—” He cut himself off before he said anything further, merely shaking his head in unarticulated dismay.

You allow him the moment to gather himself, occupying yourself with the lace Miss Adir is laying out for you. However, he continues to linger and so after a look from Mrs Dearden, you turn back to the steward. “I’m sure you have other duties to return to, Steward Bilmont.”

Bilmont meets your eyes, blinking as if suddenly realizing where he is. Hastily he gets to his feet. “Yes, my lady, of course.”

You shake your head in amusement as he hurries out the door before turning back to the mirror and letting your maids finish dressing you. It’s mostly flourishes now, lace cuffs and collar mantle, the jewelry your mother provided. The veil re-purposed from Dale’s mother’s is still carefully arranged on a form, you’ll put that on last.

You still feel somewhat in shock, happy shock, but shock nevertheless. Dale didn’t know you knew what he was, but he does now. He wants to marry you. He’d said you were one of the reasons he stayed here, as Dale. He called you ‘exemplary’. And to think only an hour ago you’d been convinced everything had fallen to pieces. Instead you’re finally, finally, on the same page.

With that reassurance, more of your nerves have melted away, leaving you feeling eager anticipation for the beginning this wedding truly is.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Miss Adir asks tentatively as she helps to make sure the lace insert is sitting correctly over your collarbones. No doubt she must have questions about what happened and what sort of confrontation there might have been, even if she is too professional to ask.

“Hm?” You blink yourself back to the present moment. “Oh yes.” You feel a smile grow on your face, unable to be contained. You can find little reason to try to contain it. “I’m very well indeed.”

-/-

Some of those nerves return as you wait in the small ready room to make your entrance into the main hall of the monsacrin, where the spiritual ceremony will take place prior to the legal one. You’re dreading this one more as it involves the most pageantry and the most people. Certainly all guests will be at the wedding luncheon, but you will not be on display in the same manner. 

Even the buoyancy of your conversation with Dale had lent you is diminishing as you imagine all the ways in which you might make a fool of yourself. Your fears for Dale too are not insubstantial. You had been pushing those concerns to the side because there wasn’t much you could do to help—the wedding had to take place here, but how would the sacred affect him? He’d been fine during the rehearsal and the few common ceremonies you’d attended over the last few weeks, but…

You’d seen a sanctif nearly reveal him, not to mention Grandfather’s holy water attempt. He is certainly capable of being hurt by it. But to what degree? Both Sanctif Ellon and Dr. Louisa proved detection methods could be used successfully upon him, although not perfectly. Especially if he was forewarned and able to prepare as you’d seen with the sanctif. Hopefully, with the ceremony so straightforwardly laid out over the past few days, Dale will have prepared himself. Right?

Of course, he’d called off the wedding. He’d spent at least part of today thinking it wasn’t happening. How long had he been planning that? He’d been acting a bit strangely over the past few days, but ultimately the decision had seemed impulsive to you. He’d seemed as if leaving Northridge was his next move and yet, he’d clearly not been packed beyond for your wedding trip. The box he’d been filling with books and other items in his study had obviously been items he wanted with him, but would have been sent ahead to your next destination and so we’re prepared.

The swell of music, woodwinds and strings, interrupted your thoughts to let you know Dale had likely entered the monsacrin. He’d come from the right to walk to the middle. You’ve heard some merchant and peasant families had those who were to be wed enter at the same time given family status didn’t have the hold it had on the nobility. However, since you were joining the Northridge family, you’d enter second to stand with him instead of the reverse. 

Miss Adir hands you your bouquet as the melody changes. The door in front of you opens, letting in the brilliant morning sunlight. Your practice of the ceremony was all that prevented you from squinting in the face of all that light. Light was the most important aspect of Solennity and monsacrins had as much glass as they could and stay standing. It was traditional for weddings to take place in morning light, to signify new beginnings, and were held in the eastern hall accordingly. Sunlight streamed in, half blinding you as you walked down the left aisle, which cut at a diagonal through the seated guests to the dias against that eastern wall of glass. 

Once your eyes adjust, you keep them focused on the center altar, with its backing of colorful stained glass since its easier to look at, and where Dale waits for you. Gone is the more casual red waistcoat he had on in the study. Instead, the luxurious dark blue velvet that he’d selected nearly a month ago has been turned into a lovely suit. His overcoat is rich and plush, embroidered with detailed gold designs that are similar to those on his waistcoat. His trousers are the same color and disappear into polished black boots. The white of his shirt contrasts well and helps lighten the outfit. Even his hair ribbon is white, holding back his dark hair, except those styled in the front. He looks beautiful.

You try not to think about all the guests staring at you and focus only on Dale, only on being careful not to step on the hem of your dress or drop your flowers. The music swells appropriately until you’re stepping up the single step to where you’ll start the ceremony, next to Dale. 

Now that you’re closer and not so dazzled by the light, you can make out more of his expression. He looks down at you with a sort of proud awe that you admire given he’s already seen your dress and even your hair more than half done only an hour or so ago. Perhaps you haven’t been giving him enough credit for his ability to act. He is right in that no one else, beyond a few servants, knows over his nature. You smile up at him, more in relief and out of nerves than much else, but there’s also some awe, that you’re really here, that he’s really here—that it's all happening.

As the final notes play out, you carefully lean forward to place your bouquet in the vase to your side, the flowers a gift to the monsacrin and so your hands can be free for the rest of the ceremony. 

The sanctif walks up, giving the opening prayer for a wedding. He stands between you on the next step up and his apprentice joins him, her movements as smooth as in rehearsal earlier in the week. She hands the sanctif the ribbon chosen—blue and gold braided together—and he starts the prayer of unity.

“Today we join together these two humble petitioners who seek to unify their lives in marriage,” he proclaims. That is your cue, and Dale’s, and you both remove a glove—your right and his left. The apprentice sanctif takes your gloves while the sanctif continues, “As such endeavors are not to be taken lightly given their grave importance and profound influence on the times ahead, we so bind them.” 

You both reach out and carefully entwine your fingers together in a tight handclasp. The sanctif continues to speak as he winds the braided ribbon around your hands, but you barely hear his words. Instead your focus is on the steadiness of Dale’s hand, the moderate temperature of his skin, the way your arms overlap in order to keep your hands securely together. Your sleeves are short, but his are not. The sensation of the luscious velvet brushing against your skin is lovely. You can’t help but look up to see his eyes—only two at the moment, thank the stars—to find them already fixed upon you.

His gaze seems cautious until yours meets it, at which point his eyes crinkle in their corners to reflect the smile that blooms so naturally. Without thought, you mirror the gesture.

The music swells as the sanctif proclaims and you focus yourself back onto the ceremony itself, so you do not embarrass yourself by being caught unawares. You accept the candle holder from the attendant easily, the gold quickly warming in your hands. It’s simple white taper is unlit. Dale accepts an identical one as the sanctif recalls the story of humanity’s ascent from unintelligent darkness to enlightenment.

He paces the half-circle step, speaking to you and the audience, before he climbs to his place behind the elevated altar. He holds his hands up, supplicating, and begins to recite the marital prompts. “Do you approach this altar of light deliberately and of sound mind, willing and able, to join in sacred commitment to one another?”

“I do,” you chorus with Dale. He’d said with you for balance, he’d not need his cane, and yet the first step up makes you nervous that you’ll both fall, as if you’ve never climbed a set of stairs before.

“You may approach,” the sanctif replies.

You and Dale advance, you careful given your skirts and Dale careful given his balance. You reach the step with little difficulty, feeling almost foolish over how nervous you are, but the reminder of the low level of actual challenge doesn’t help.

“Do you approach this altar of light with honesty, loyalty, and fidelity in your hearts?”

“I do.” Perhaps that vow was what had started Dale on his doubts. The first rehearsal had been the day you returned to Northridge and you’d each gotten pamphlets explaining the ceremony, for all your responses were minimal and repetitive. 

“Do you approach this altar of light for the purpose of commitment, of unity, of harmony?”

“I do.” this is the vow you’re unsure if you would have meant with the original Dale. It would have been hard to reach any sort of harmony with him. You don’t have any such fears with Dale.

“Do you approach this altar of light with full faith in the enduring union you seek to forge, with no intention of end or fragility, with confidence and perseverance?”

“I do.” With your conversation this morning, you have no reservations or worries with your reply here either. Still, the sound of Dale’s deep voice in concert with you helps reassure you of his words, as does the feeling of his now-warm hand in yours, his body next to you. He’s not going anywhere.

You’ve both reached the altar and the sanctif smiles at you reassuringly, before he looks past you to those gathered behind you. His voice goes out to them, imploring, “Do any here know what might prevent this union? Do any here have any reason to disbelieve the proclamations made by those who seek to join together?”

There is a pause after his voice fades out in which you find it immensely hard to breathe, before the collective response comes, “We do not.”

“As your humble delegate, I implore the light to bless these two with the union they seek.” The sanctif turns from the altar to the fire behind him, which every monsacrin has lit at all times. Carefully, he lit the oak rod in his hand from its flames and with that, lit the large candle on the altar. 

The sanctif speaks on the virtues of marriage while he prepares the sacred cup, announcing the virtue of each herb he adds to the holy water held in its vessel above the candle. Truly, the fire was not enough to heat the drink by much, but it was symbolic of using light and heat to purify. You hope that Dale can drink it with ease. You’d taken note of the herbs at the last rehearsal and found most to be either without cause for worry or with little information to rely on. What flexibility there was with the recipe you took advantage of, except for juniper, which had to be included—and the book had specifically recommended that for purification.

“Drink from this holy vessel,” the sanctif says, carefully lifting the overlarge cup, truly more of a bowl, for you. “As is internal, so may be external. Light within, light without.” 

You’d practiced this too. Dale drinks first, as the higher partner so to speak. As he leans down, he’s careful not to drop his candle nor your hand.

Your eyes are intent on his face in what you hope is common attention for your fiance, but he seems no worse for wear. His mild grimace easily attributed to what you know to be the bitter flavor of the drink. Once he straightens, you mirror him, leaning down to take a drink yourself. At least the ceremonial cup closer to you height—the sanctif can only lean so far over the altar with it. Bitter, tart, and herbal, the flavors coat your mouth and the water flows quickly down your throat. You’re grateful to have tasted it before so you don’t cough.

Gentle windwood instruments play at odds with the powerful taste in your mouth. They swell around you as everyone sings a verse of gratitude. The sanctif uses his sprinklers, dunking them in the ceremonial cup now that you had each taken a drink. He hands the bigger one to his apprentice for the group below. With another prayer, he sprinkles holy water over yourself and Dale. Your eyes dart to Dale and notice the way his head is bowed in imitation of piety keeps his face at an angle that lessens the chance of holy water hitting it. He already drank it, but on impulse you turn over your hands, arms only slightly more awkwardly placed, so that your clasped hand is up and his is below.

Dale gives your hand a grateful squeeze as you see a few drops land on the back of your hand. Luckily, the sanctif’s blessing over you does not last long and he carefully puts the vessel away while his apprentice continues with the crowd.

“Blessed and enlightened in our souls, I bid you now to light the symbol of your devotion,” he intones. Dutifully you and Dale light your candles from the larger one simultaneously. 

Now comes the more difficult part: carrying the lit candles back down and turning with your hands still bound. You don’t care if you’re not as elegant as some you’ve seen in the past at the very few weddings you’ve attended. You keep your gaze firmly on your feet and Dale as the sanctif at last bids you to turn to away from the altar. “Do you depart this altar of light with determination to face life's hardships together?”

Your hold on Dale’s hand tightens as you turn your head, nerves and fear lancing through you unbidden by the crowd and the height. Dale takes the extra strain easily, skillfully stepping down and to the side with enough deliberate slowness you are able to follow him and remember your official response. “We do.”

Your voice is shaky, but Dale’s is clear and the sanctif does not ask you to repeat yourself. You’ve heard tell of sanctifs who demanded repetitions or even those who required a sentence response, re-framing the question. You are so very thankful you’re able to follow the simpler pattern.

“Do you depart this altar of light with persistence in the face of afflictions of the body?”

“We do.” You take another step down, allowing the floor of the step above to keep your hemline free of your shoes. At the very first wedding you attended, this was the vow you were convinced no one would be able to pledge to you.

“Do you depart this altar of light with compassion for the tumultuous emotions of the heart?”

Another oath that you would not have believed coming from the original Dale. His compassion was lacking and his tolerance for others emotions was minimal to say the least. This Dale surprises you still with his attention to your comfort and happiness. “We do.”

“Do you depart this altar of light with steadfastness against the complications of the mind?”

You chance a glance straight ahead this time, as you are meant to be doing the entire descent, and regret it. So many people staring at you as you walk down steep steps while holding fire. Whoever designed this wedding ceremony had best ascended far far away. You hastily look back down. “We do.”

“Do you depart this altar of light to serve your community and your kin with the attention duty and obligation require?”

“We do.” You are now back on the proper floor of the hall, lower than where you started on the first step. You’ve never been so grateful to the ground before. Why had it been so much worse than rehearsals?

“Do you, the gathered community, accept these vows made here in the light?”

Perhaps it was the audience, who again need an additional second to respond that makes your knuckles lighten as your grip tightens with anticipation. “We do.”

The stringed instruments join the lighter and quieter wood-winds, a masterful solo that allows you to regain your breath, for all you’d not been exerting yourself physically. You catch Callalily’s eyes in the second row and she smiles encouragingly.

When the music dies down again, the sanctif speaks, “Reward this faith in you with the gift of your abundance and illumination.”

You cross the stone floor to the first line of benches with perfect synchronicity, Dale shortening his long strides to match your own.

You light Grandmother and Grandfather’s candles with Dale. Grandmother’s eyes are misty as she smiles at you with joy. Grandfather’s smile is more tinged with relief when he looks at you both. Soon they turn to light the candles of the ones around them, who will turn to do the same. Once all the candles in the first row of benches are light, you and Dale blow out each other’s candles. 

The music speeds up as the light spreads to everyone’s far smaller candles and soon reaches the cue for everyone who’s candle is lit to kneel. The wave of people kneeling continues until all are knelt, anyone too young to hold a candle pulled down by attentive parents. 

You turn back to the sanctif, who’s descended to be only a step above the main floor. Dale guides your turn and approach until it is your turn to kneel as well, your concentration on how you do so in your more elaborate than usual skirt given your lack of free hands.

The sanctif’s speech on marriage is well-enough, he’d given you an overview earlier in the week, but you can’t focus much on his words. You can’t even ruminate on the marriage you are about to begin, the future that is starting now. You can only focus on Dale. You’d think with him pressed so close you’d grow used to the feeling of his arm, his body, against yours, but you don’t. You only crave to have his arms wrapped firmly around you like they had those two precious times before. To feel his lips against yours for a more satisfying kiss. You hope the light and heat can be blamed for any heat in your cheeks as you try to keep your mind on the present and the ceremony.

Soon enough, the sanctif prompts you to present your candles, the holders careful designed to catch and flow the cooling wax. The sanctif dips his finger into the cooling wax of your candle and Dale’s simultaneously. Then he presses a dot of wax to the back of each of your hands, still bound together. “I now pronounce you wed. You may seal the union with a kiss.”

You turn back to Dale, his eyes lit by more than the many candles and the sunlight streaming through the windows. Luckily, you don’t think anyone else will even notice as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

Don’t go, you can’t help but lament in your mind as you try with your will to keep him close to you. Dale remembers your audience at least. As he straightens, pulling away from you, he lifts your joined hands in to signify the sealed union. It feels more like a victory salute to you. Victory to have gotten here, to have this ceremony complete, to have Dale joined to you. To be together.

After a final blessing with holy water sprinkled over your heads, you carefully get back to your feet. While the rest of the attendees join the instruments in song, they keep their candles lit so that the center aisle you depart down is lit from all sides. 

It’s considered back luck to undo the ribbon until out of the hall. You and Dale depart down the center aisle, hands still bound together.

[Part Thirty-Two]

[heartsteellerr]

How they comfort you during a scandal

Request; Hi! I see that you’re requests are open! Can I get a reaction of Heartsteel member’s s/o feeling insecure about dating a celebrity, seeing false dating rumors about the members they are dating and just generally worried about idol scandal stuff because of them? how would the member comfort them about it? A/N ✎: Hi nonnie!! Sorry this request was taking FOREVER for me to do but 🙏 I got some of it done! I decided to split the request into parts for (partly) MY SAKE cos lately i've been busy and I didn't exactly want to prolong it, and also because I didn't want the post to be that long?? So hopefully you're fine with that! Enjoy! Content; Hurt/Comfort, leaning more towards hurt Warnings; GN reader, reader isn't an idol Characters; Ezreal and Kayn

It's honestly on him for not being discreet about your relationship, or 'the' relationship that no one knew about (aside from the other Heartsteel members) until a photo leaked of him with someone. He didn't seem to mind it though, brushing it off as something that'll soon blow over eventually with the media news. But you on the other hand, did in fact mind it ⎯ more than him actually. As you weren't a famous, sensational popstar like he was or had any social status within the media, you were just... Someone standing beside him, and that sort of mindset grew onto you the more you looked into the false dating rumors circulating around him. Seeing the pictures of numerous celebrities that people speculated were in the photo with him and then comparing yourself to them, or the way some fans were picking apart the 'mysterious partner' as someone not worthy of being with their bias, or⎯ but then your phone gets snatched right out of your hand. Taken and tossed aside as he held you in his arms.

Ezreal

He'd be pissed at himself for being so careless and even more pissed at seeing you degrade yourself when he loves you so. No words can properly explain how he feels in that moment, or how he wants to convey that he was a big giant idiot for not taking your feelings into account ⎯ but with the way he held onto you, unmoving and refusing to let go so you wouldn't be able to see his face, it's clear how much he regrets putting you in this position.

In a way, it's almost laughable to him how you'd think of yourself as unworthy of him when that's how he feels when he's with you. Idol or not, you can easily express yourself without a care of the media attacking or slandering you for your comments, or the way you dress comfortably for yourself and no one else, even the littlest details about you were so... loveable to him, that he does find himself to be a bit envious of you sometimes.

How he chooses to handle the scandal will depend on what you also want him to do; ideally he'd want to make it public that he's taken but won't (ever) be revealing his partner's identity for personal reasons (obviously) and would make a serious comment that the public and his fans shouldn't dictate who he dates ⎯ it's for him to decide, and the person he chose is you.

Kayn

He's an idiot. He'll say it out loud and not-so proud for the whole world and even the media to hear because truly, thats who he is. He really didn't see that this whole thing would blow up in his face, especially when he was so in the moment of loving you to even notice the backlash he'll be getting ⎯ which, incidentally, was totally and completely on his part. But could you really fault him for it? Somewhat. BUT in his defence it genuinely felt that way, like being with you for hours when it only felt like minutes for him.

He'd say something like how you made him feel like a normal human being instead of a freak, or an idol put on a pedestal by his fan ⎯ and even though it was good at first, it limits so much things he wants to do. An easy example: Loving you.

Again (like Ezreal) when he makes his statement to the public it also includes what you want him to do with your relationship; he can come out public with it or keep it under wraps, saying everything was false, all while making sure his anger was very present ⎯ because for one, how dare they butt into his business and two, for making you think so lowly of yourself.

[uchihaharlot]

Heyooo, how are you, bro?

I hope your health is better now!

I have one innocent request.

"How would all Uchiha act if they finds out that you are self-harming?" (Mostly Madara pls😏)

I don't know if it's allowed topic... but yeah.

NSFW; TW self harm; minor mentions of injury; small prologue;

Before I go into this hc, I want to expressly tell anyone who reads this; whether we are mutuals or not. Whether you like my writing, like me or don’t or whatever.

My blog is a safe haven. You can openly message me, befriend me on discord (ask for my handle) or interact in the comments. If you feel like there are people who don’t care enough as they should. I just want to say that, I do. I don’t know who you are, what you’re doing. But I love you. Do not think for a single iota that your existence is merely coincidence, I’m not by any means a holier than thou individual and I’ve had my fair share of this isn’t worth living for: but trust me; it is and then some.

Madara:

Madara comes from an era where you put your best fist forward when things aren’t right. His level of resolve is steel cut and unwavering…but seeing you hurt yourself as an outlet, doesn’t sit well with Madara. And he’s into good old fashioned methods of healing…sorta. Expect to be tied up to his bed; not in the way you’d like either. For days he will keep you there, turning your body so you won’t get bed sores. Feeding you and letting you up to the toilet fa few times a day, and once at night if needed. All of this until you finally talk it out with him, and agree to find a better solution to figuring out how to express your feelings/pain. Insists on being around you every second of the day.

Obito:

I won’t lie, seeing you hurt yourself this way; it makes him cry. Do you want Obito to cry!? He’s inconsolable when you won’t even consider him as a vent source. And, while he won’t selfishly make it about him. He will openly admit most (ok all) of his faults in the hopes you would share your own. Whatever it is, Obito is sure that there are far better way to convey the message you want to share. Suffering in silence is only so fool proof.

Shisui:

No. No, no. No. Shisui one hundred percent won’t stand for it, and despite your protests of him almost catapulting himself off a cliff, he will tell you the error of his ways. Undoubtedly will make sure that you understand that even his own potential sacrifice would have been fruitless, and that you shouldn’t compare apples to oranges. And from there, Shisui will spend countless hours, days and nights proving to you just how sacred human life is. He inadvertently blames himself for some of this, you mentioning his almost demise opens old wounds and Shisui takes the opportunity for you both to grow and evolve. He wants to be a role model; not the reason you justify it.

Itachi:

In a way; he’s bereaved. This is highly unusual for you, and Itachi’s keen eyes (and new prescription glasses) catch a glimpse of your fresh wounds as he lightly snatches your arm. ‘Why would you do this?’ and ‘that’s not a logical reason to purposely harm yourself.’ Are a few of his stern words to you. Itachi is a no nonsense man, and he won’t tolerate you hurt yourself. If he was a true jerk, like he tricked many to believe for the longest time; he’d put you in Tsukuyomi and really give you something to think about. But instead, he inundated you day in and day out with his concern. Hoping that if you see one person who cares; you will eventually open up.

Sasuke:

Sasuke, traumatized by his older brother—not once but twice and more, lived in excruciating detail his own parents death, several times over. In the matter of three seconds; he understands your grief. Whatever you might be going through, I think when it comes to seeing other people suffering—especially as adult Sasuke, he can’t cope with it, and rarely did for himself. Which is sort of mkes him the besy person for this. He also doesn’t mince words and tells you straight out that you’re only causing yourself more harm in the long run. His method of cut and dry reality checks come in waves, when you think he’s not watching you, he’s right there. Don’t under estimate his capabilities. You’re on his radar and Sasuke won’t hesitate to use his techniques to get you talking; the sooner you find the root cause of your problems. The better, take it from someone who let their pain fester until it boiled over, it’s not worth it.

[loriannbowman]

Honkai Star Rail X Arknights | Yandere!Sunday X Sankta!Reader | Part Six

You purse your lips with confusion. Sunday was acting strange... or maybe not? You don't actually know him as you had only just met him, but you can't help but feel uneasy with his flittery movements. He's on edge, you seen that look thousands of times, you couldn't mistake it for anything else.

You hum slightly, lips pressed into a firm line.

"Mr. Sunday? Are you sure everything is alright?"

Sunday's attention refocuses on you. He gives a wobbly smile. His body feels like it's buzzing. His gloved hands tremble and his fingers twitch.

"Of course," he says, trying his best to sooth himself, "I'm fine, just a bit excited, that's all."

"Excited?"

Sunday hums.

"Yes, I'm excited to show you around more of Penacony."

You quirk a brow.

"What do you mean? Before, it sounded like you were going to kick me out!" you say with a nervous chuckle.

"Kick you out? We don't have such ways of doing that unless your body is within the Reverie, which it's not, might I remind you, my little stow away."

You gawk at his words, shocked by the sudden playfulness Sunday was sharing with you.

"Uh huh..." you say with a tilt of your head, "right. Got it... Actually, on the topic of getting kicked, how would I leave this place?"

Sunday's expression flattens, almost threatening.

"Well, there are two ways. First, you simply wake up, many people wake up by themselves naturally or by force."

You lean forwards.

"And the second...?"

"You die."

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers. All parts of you go on high alert, the same feeling you get when ready to proceed in combat.

"Die?!" you exclaim.

Sunday quickly covers your mouth, his gloves getting slightly wet from your partly opened lips.

What soft lips... I wish I could kiss them.

"Shh! You mustn't say things so loudly, you'll cause panic! Let me explain. One cannot really die in a dream, right? When you hit the ground after a fall, or get hurt by a weapon, the body forces itself to wake up by jumpstarting itself. We do not speak of "death" in the dreamscape, lest the people run into disorder."

Your eyes slowly close back to their normal size as your brain begins to process the information. What he says is mostly true. When hit with a sort of trauma, the human body's natural system is to jolt awake with adrenaline as the brain thinks you're going to die.

But death is possible in dreams, it's just not common.

Sunday slowly removes his slender fingers from your mouth, fiddling with them with his thumb. You pop your lips slightly, trying to shake away the foreign feeling away.

Carefully, Sunday brings his hands to his lips in a thinking gesture. He presses the fabric that touched your lips against his.

An indirect kiss is still a kiss... but I want a real one.

"Anyway, those are the ways in which you can force yourself awake. But those are crude and can cause quiet a disturbance in the peace. There's no reason to force yourself awake, right? You'll wake up on your own, so why not enjoy the atmosphere while you're here? Who knows if you'll ever get a chance to visit again, right?"

You purse your lips once again, debating on what to do. Sunday's offer sounds tempting, and he's right about you ever coming back. But there are people back home who need treatments, protection, a person to talk to... Even though you've only been here for a short while, you can't help but feel home sick.

"Doctor Loriann might just kill me..." you mutter to yourself, "but a little longer won't hurt, right?"

[ratsoh-writes]

SO asks them to get them some clothes from their dresser, they open the wrong drawer, and the skeleton finds a s*x toy. do they say anything?

-katana

I’m assuming they don’t live with SO yet, or else they’d know where the toy drawer is by now

Under the cut for mentions of massive dildos lol

Sans: he covers his mouth quickly to muffle the startled laugh that threatened to come out. Sans quickly closes the drawer and opens the next one which thankfully turns out to be correct. He doesn’t mention it to SO, but they’re highly suspicious of the amused looks he keeps shooting them all night

Papyrus: “ADORABLE HUMAN WHO I LOVE VERY MUCH, WHAT DRAWER WAS IT AGAIN? I ACCIDENTALLY FOUND YOUR VIBRATING RICHARD 2000 INSTEAD!” Naturally this constitutes as an emergency as SO zooms in to slam the drawer shut and grab the thing themselves. Papyrus did this entirely on purpose by the way he cackles

Star: nice lol. Star actually picks it up curiously, and deems it as a tad larger than his own measurements. No worry! He’s sure he’ll work much better than some piece of silicone. Star puts the toy away with a sense of competitiveness and determination to seduce SO tonight.

Honey: he shrieks and slams the drawer shut. When SO comes in to ask if he’s alight, he’s holding what they wanted. His face is flushed and he has the guiltiest expression as he stutters out that nothings wrong! He didn’t see anything!! Promise! (Liar)

Red: listening hard to make sure SO isn’t near, red quickly whips out his own ecto to compare it to the toy… he’s still bigger. Good. Red carefully puts it back making sure it looks undisturbed and smugly grabs the thing SO wanted.

Edge: he just puts a hand over his eyes and with an annoyed growl slowly shuts that drawer to open the one he needed. That was a rookie mistake, edge should’ve been paying attention better. He’s more mad at accidentally snooping than at what he found

Mal: oh he’s totally gonna snoop. He rummages around a little more and is very pleased to see the other toys SO has hidden. Oh! He has a matching one of those! Of course his SO has good taste, they are his after all~

Cash: he gasps loudly then starts sniggering. Unfortunately SO hears and instantly comes to investigate. They know that noise means trouble. When they go in third room, they catch cash in the act of propping the dildo up on top of SOs leather boots and putting a cowboy hat on it. It looks like some sort of adult film cowboy character right now

Oak: he shuts the drawer, forgets which drawer he shut, opens it again, sees the dildo, shuts the drawer, yells at SO asking what he was grabbing for them again, then repeats all this one more time before actually finding the thing SO needs

Willow: “OH TINY HUMAN WITH BAD TASTES IN MONSTERS!! YOU’RE GONNA NEED SOMETHING MUCH MUCH BIGGER THAN THIS IF WE ARE TO KEEP DATING!!” Ok willow isn’t one to make dirty jokes about himself, but this was too good to pass up. And like with papyrus, SO is zooming in to shut the drawer and grab the thing themselves lol

[madschiavelique]

What a realistic scenario about Miguel loving someone? With the multiverse work, his trauma.. For some reason I don’t have the feeling that will be all horny and lovely as written

Okay so after receiving this ask right here about miguel potentially neglecting his partner because of work, let’s dive into this hehe

Objectively speaking – and with the help of miguel’s type headcanon – Miguel goes slow when it comes to relationships. He has to evaluate everything to be sure that this is the fitting partner for him.

It takes time for him to get comfortable with anyone, so if he gets a partner, good luck to them to be patient about him opening up. He has difficulties speaking about his feelings, so his partner has to not press him about expressing himself on the matter.

When it comes to work, he will probably drown in it because of his sense of equity and justice and blabla equilibrium you know the deal with miguel. But if his partner finds a way with him to balance out private/personal life with Miguel, then his confidence in the fact this is the best partner for him will grow.

When he opens up to his partner about his traumas – because he finally understands that if he wants to move in the relationship – he will make them sit in front of him and answer every question they have about his trauma. For the moment, if they don’t ask more, he won’t say anything. But when work becomes too overwhelming he will finally understand slowly thanks to his partner that he is a human (well, half human at that) after all and that we are not supposed to go under so many stressful things at once. He needs a break, and the more he will get, the better it will become for him to be open about his thoughts and feelings and to feel better after starting to bottle up less.

I don’t think a relationship with Miguel would be way too horny either (we’re all just a bunch of sluts for this man and the imagination knows no limits so we just have fun with it), in all objectivity – unless we take aside the fact that he’s a spider person and which gives him these “heats” to mate – I think this man is thinking of how much having sex, apart from getting big peaks of pleasure that can relax him, would perhaps think it’s a waste of time and energy. He has more important things to do than to fuck around (haHA terrible pun my bad). He might need quickies sometimes though, just something to help him relieve stress and still share some sort of intimacy with his partner.

But I think the longer time goes with his partner, the more he’ll be able to lower his guard down and destress and that’s when it gets more lovely and caring (but not too much, he’s tough and neglects his emotion so there’ll be a lot to unpack there)

[idlingmoons]

daydream x reader

a nice 2.2k words and considerably fluffy, i'd feel! just you getting home from the store and doing laundry with daydream

this is a long one, written for @sockonaleash and @amethystapple - though, it was a lot longer than i had expected to write! this one will be under the cut as not to take up so much space unless you do wish to read it :)

You set down your groceries and fumble with the keys to your apartment. 

Thankfully, you don’t drop them. Your hands aren’t that sweaty enough for them to slip from your fingers, even with all the carefulness you could muster. The sweltering heat is beginning to calm down, easing into a more tolerable weather. Walking outside for a few minutes—to the nearest grocery store, no less—no longer makes your back awfully damp, which you are thankful for. 

You are somewhat out of breath, and you know that you have to walk more, as you make you rest against the door for a bit. You manage to press your key into the lock and jiggle it to make sure it’s fully inside. There, you turn it and push the door open, stepping back to snag your fingers on the plastic bag of the groceries before you make your way inside. None of it is heavy, it is only the weight of the vegetables you finally promised yourself to buy sitting at the bottom of it, as well as the other meats you reluctantly added.

Well, you bought it for Daydream.

She wouldn’t stop fussing about your eating habits. As much as you wanted to eat the same few foods over and over again, she insisted on having a variety of foods. Something about nutrients. You were paying attention, really! It’s just a bit hard to focus on that when Daydream’s right there, worrying over you. It’s the sort of attention that you find yourself indulging in, and that’s how she convinced you to even go and buy groceries.

Speaking of the lovely animatronic himself, a few soft steps could be heard from inside. His shoes were placed neatly by the side of the door, so as to “not track dirt inside of the house” though he rarely went outside. You usually would have him accompany you, but this was a quick trip that you had been putting off after you caved into Daydream’s suggestions. Now that it’s finally over with, you shove off your shoes by the heels so that you don’t have to untie the laces, and nudge them with your socks so that they’re next to Daydream’s shoes.

“My dearest, welcome home,” he greeted, bowing only his head. You had to break him out of the habit of doing one of those full-body bows, which was too much and too formal for someone like you. You wanted to be close to him, and breaking those habits was one of the first ideas you had to make him feel more comfortable. Anything to do to make him understand that this place was safe for him. Bowing his head was alright, for now.

You might be smitten with him. And, well, Daydream certainly is with you as he pulls himself out of his bow to come slightly closer. His mouth, or more so his teeth, press against your forehead.

The kiss doesn’t catch you off guard, although you do pause to savor the soft gesture. He’s been doing it in the past few weeks and you’re sure that every time you look up at him, something in his expression is more cheeky. It’s clear that he relishes in your reaction, and he gently takes the plastic bags in your hands while you’re looking at him distractedly.

His eyes light up a little, or you think they do. You want to save up so that you can buy him some new features to make him expressive. It’s something he hasn’t told you outright, but you’ve sometimes seen him stare in the mirror and trace his hands over his face. You have seen the way that his fingers ghost his own mouth through a crack in the door, and the unmistakable yearning that no one—let alone animatronics—should have to suffer through.

It makes you want to do more for him.

Daydream pulls you out of your reverie with a noise of approval, something he must have picked up around the humans of his past. 

(You would say owners, but then it’d lump you in with them, and something like guilt has its clutches on your heart and squeezes tightly. You don’t want to own Daydream. You want him to be himself.)

The bluish purple moon’s hands were taking out the vegetables, gracefully taking out the bag of potatoes to move them into the fridge with ease. While you didn’t struggle too much with carrying them, you’re sure that it must be quite light for the animatronic. “My sweet star, you bought what I asked you to,” he murmured, a pleased look gracing his features.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you manage to say. Your throat feels oddly dry in her presence.

His eyes flickered to yours, as if to make sure you were looking at him, and you cannot help it as his gaze pulled you in. It is most likely because of the smile she sends your way; while it is her default expression, something about this one seems softer and more genuine. Your eyes linger on his faceplate, and certainly his mouth, although you are far too embarrassed about it. Even then, you notice he is certainly appreciative that you are listening to his suggestions. You stare long after he looks away, putting the food in their respective places.

Daydream isn’t looking at you while he asks his next question, neatly storing some carrots and what looks like cauliflower, and it makes you want to pull him away from his task. You don’t. “How was your trip to the store? Do you feel more comfortable going by yourself, my sweet?”

This is his way of checking in on you, and you’re fond of it. But, it is the store, of all things: unremarkable and nerve wracking for you at the same time.

“Yeah… yeah,” you say, and any other words die on your lips. You want to say more.

In the quiet that stretches after your response, you move closer to watch her movements. Practiced, but relaxed. It was no longer like a taut string, like the first few times she helped to restock the fridge. That’s when you notice that the dryer you had been running from over an hour ago, and surely was still running when you left home, had gone silent.

You almost considered waiting for the animatronic to finish, but the quietness was getting to you and turning on some music wouldn’t be necessary—at least for this task. “Daydream, did you take my… uh, our clothes, out of the dryer?” you ask.

He’s not looking at you, still focused on his task. Even then, you know you have his attention. 

“Yes, I did, my dear,” he answered, putting the last of the groceries into the fridge. He folds the plastic bag and walks over to open the cabinet door under the kitchen sink, putting it there neatly. You know that he has quite the organized set up, and you’ll look in it later to get a good grasp of what he put where. He does all of these things that he doesn’t have to and, while you’re happy about not having to do them, it’s the fact that it’s Daydream doing it that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

You’re not sure when he glanced at your direction, but you stop biting as Daydream sends you a look of disapproval. He knows what you’re doing, and he’s scolded you a few times for picking at the skin of your nails. Harmful habits that he wants you to get rid of. It feels hypocritical, when you’re trying to stop his. “You know you didn’t have to do that, right?” 

Her head swivels toward you, a faint jingle of her hat following the action.

She stands upright, hands clasped a little. “It is only right if I do so,” she says, and you know you’ve had this conversation with her several times over. You’ve insisted again and again that she doesn’t have to, and you’ve seen him make some progress in not doing every single chore you can think of, but this seems to be one of the few things that he refuses to let go of. “Taking the laundry out of the dryer is simple.”

You’re going to have to come up with another approach. Since asking her to stop hasn’t fully worked, since it’s not detrimental to either of you, you need to work around it instead. You lean against the counter in thought.

“You know, we should fold our clothes together,” you try, and the animatronic’s eyes bore into yours. It feels ridiculous that you have to fight to fold your own clothes.

“You do not have to if you do not wish to.” Daydream has a curious lilt in his voice.

“Well, I asked. Well, offered to. It’s something that I want to do.”

“Folding clothes is simple, and it would be more efficient for me to do it alone. You can use your time for something else.” You don’t want to get frustrated with her, and this is such a small thing. You sigh, refusing to resign yourself to her words. “Daydream, I want to fold clothes with you. Please.” You struggle to come up with something, and your fingers tap against the counter as you try to reign yourself in. “I want to spend time with you. I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t want to. I’m not doing this just to be polite. So, can I please please fold clothes with you?”

These sorts of things are not something you want to get angry with her for, even if you have to beg her a little. She must have been impacted by her past experiences, or coded to act this way, or both—something along those lines. You don’t want to pry.

She looks you over, eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of your tapping and the way you hold yourself. She wipes away whatever expression she has on her face, seemingly relenting now and nodding a little without a word. You can only hope that she knows you’re not in any way mad with her. Why would you be? You don’t normally get angry over things like this.

“C’mon, let’s go fold clothes together. Where are they?” You push yourself off the counter, and you watch as he briskly moves to your side.

Daydream’s eyes flick to yours. “In your room, as a majority of them are yours. They are still in the hamper. I was going to fold them before you returned, little wishing star, but you came sooner than I expected,” he answers as the two of you begin to make your way to your room. 

“I wanted to get home quickly to see you,” you remark, and you can see the way her smile ticks upward ever so slightly.

The two of you walk to your room, and she soon follows behind you. You move out of the way once you’re inside of your room, and there you can see the hamper that you’ve been using to collect all of your clothes. Daydream is already near the hamper, and you can tell that she’s more than likely going to sit on a chair and just fold the clothes from there. That won’t do, especially since the clothes are fresh out of the dryer.

You quickly take the sides of the hamper and dump it onto your bed before she even has the chance to pick up one article of clothing.

Impulsivity hits you and you end up crawling right on top of all the warm clothes. It smells like the laundry detergent you use, a refreshing and soft smell that makes you happy that you buy that specific brand of detergent. You’re sure it was lavender, but what you’re more focused on is the warmth of the pile. While it smells great and all, the heat of the clothes makes you want to laze around like a cat in the sunlight.

“Is this your way of helping, darling?” he leans down to ask, voice lower. He’s smiling again, another one of those genuine smiles, and you can tell that he’s downright amused by you. You’re glad that he feels safe enough to feel like that.

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

She moves to sit next to the pile of clothes on the bed, her dress ruffling a little as she does so, and you’re still sprawled all over on the pile of clothes. You can see how close she is to you, and her smile becomes something a lot smaller and softer. The way she leans in to you isn’t something you’re expecting, and it feels a lot more intimate. It’s as if she was about to tell you a secret she’s told no one else.

You move to sit up a little on your horde of clothing, head lifting. “Daydream?” 

He shushes you and moves his faceplate right against your cheek. Another kiss of his, but this time it feels different. You can feel the plastic of his teeth and the silicone parts of his face against your skin. One of his hands reaches up to hold your head to keep it in place, and your ears vaguely register a faint buzz.

“Thank you for helping me with the laundry then, my fantasy.”

[takeyourcyanide]

My personal headcanons for Stein:

(I wanted to participate in the fun)

On the autism and schizophrenic spectrum

An antisocial (as in aspd [psychopath/sociopath]), and is on the psychopathic side

Not only does he spin in his chair frequently, but he also paces back and forth, rocks back and forth, bounces his leg, etc. and did so as a child. He also listens to music to self-stimulate/stim (whatever you want to call it).

The screw is also to stim. But also for self-expression. But also for when his thought become to jumbled and incoherent, or when he can’t distract himself from his own addictions (cigarettes, dissection)/certain desires. The screw is for calming himself and his thoughts that never stop. His brain is like a fat little hamster on a wheel. The gears are constantly turning. They never stop. The screw assists in evening himself out a little bit.

Dreams often

All of said dreams tend to be odd and considerably nightmarish

Likes to decorate and expresses himself through such (you have seen his interesting living quarters)

I think he did experience some form of what might be considered as trauma as a young child, but does not consider it himself to be traumatic, which is why you see him say that nothing affected him as a child at all/is in denial

I think he logically understands that scientifically speaking, the way in which his brain functions and the reasons for his behavior have both genetic and environmental factors. The environmental factors being why his genes were “expressed” in the way they were, so to speak. But it is either not accepting of it, doesn’t remember it well (as many others have suggested), or doesn’t view it as being traumatic to him specifically.

I also believe this sort of logical side of himself that usually takes over sort of battles it out with the more deluded side of himself, leaving Stein constantly exhausted (as you see even within the series itself)

I think he hallucinates quite frequently, and just doesn’t mention it. It’s something he mostly ignores. He makes playful remarks about hallucinating and being “crazy”, but doesn’t care to go into detail.

He wanted his house/laboratory to be confusing to anyone who wasn’t him. Just for fun. And for self expression purposes. He wanted someone to walk up on his property and immediately find themselves dumbfounded. He wanted the most confusing layout possible as well.

For him, incoherency is his coherency.

The man is organized, but often in a disorganized way. Or at least, he tries very hard to be organized, but it never lasts. He is a bit scattered, and it reflects in said organization.

He has stitches, both because of the experiments and slicing and dicing he did on himself, and also for the purposes of symbolism and self expression. It symbolizes the fact that he is being held together by stitches. Ready to burst open at any moment. He is holding himself together and living within society, but barely.

He had hyperfixations throughout his life, of course, and they primarily had to do with science and death.

He was and is obsessed with everything death encompasses.

It’s just so fascinating to him.

He only really wears certain items of clothing, namely turtlenecks, button-up collared shirts, and coats. He wears the same brand of dress pants often. It’s just was he feels comfortable in.

He finds humanity endearing in some ways, and completely and utterly obnoxious in other ways. (This was kind of shown throughout the series, though)

He can never truly be himself, and this has caused him a lot of misery, including as a young child

For his entire life there’s been a resentment and envy deep down that he’s felt towards people, because at the end of the day, they have some sort of community in which they are truly accepted for who they are, and throughout his life, he has not. Even at the academy, he has experienced this, so finding the group of friends that he did, especially Marie and Spirit is something he is incredibly appreciative of.

He dissected some of his stuffed animals as a child.

Was the type to behead and just generally dismember dolls

Definitely aroace

Not someone who’s really built for relationships of any kind

That’s why it’s such a miracle he has those he does at the academy who are willing to be patient with him

Had to teach himself cognitive empathy from young age due to his never developing emotional empathy

Ended up in a facility once

Rarely tried and paid attention in class, but always had very good grades

When it came to the psychologists he was forced to see, he often didn’t speak to them at all. And when he did, he was incredibly vague, cryptic, and lied all the time.

Not a huge fan of the idea of shoving pills down people’s throats, and didn’t want that to happen to him

He views it as forcing those who aren’t deemed “normal” enough to be “just like everyone else” and to be how they want them to be

Doesn’t care about gender.

What I mean by that is, despite not having interest in romance, if he were to be in a relationship, he would not care about the gender or sex of that person.

So, you could say he’s pansexual/bisexual.

He is often reminded of the barrier that exists between him and other people, and when this happens, he finds himself feeling like the same small child who couldn’t understand anyone like they could understand one another

Feels like he missed a meeting on how to be human that everyone else attended

Or just wasn’t invited

Isn’t a huge social gathering person

Doesn’t always mind it, as long as he gets to be quiet and observe

But get overstimulated at times and leaves the room for a little while

He’s got people asking where he went

And he’s just in some random dark and quiet room

Sometimes brings noise cancelling earbuds because of this

He’s also texture sensitive

Won’t eat certain foods, wear certain clothes, touch certain things, etc.

That goes along with his certain clothing thing before

At the end of the day, he recognizes that he’ll always be an outsider of sorts.

Felt at least mildly suicidal throughout his life

I could say more, but this is already very long.

He’s so me

[ugh-yoongi]

Can I put in a drabble request for yoongixreader where neither of them are big on Valentine’s Day but yoongi still is romantic on the day bc he’s like the person at the store sold me on the idea for the day? (Idk if that made sense but thank you!!)

hello, you absolutely can put in this request! thank you for sending it. this was fun. <3

pairing: yoongi x reader (no pronouns used)

genre: established relationship au, fluff

warnings: swearing. mentions of alcohol. yoongi being cute in his weird little yoongi ways.

wc: 1k

taking valentine's day drabble requests here ♡

You have a standing nine a.m. meeting on Tuesdays.

Like clockwork, Namjoon appears on camera and talks your ear off for thirty minutes about something or other, and that’s exactly what he does this morning, too. Some distributor in Europe is experiencing shipping delays, so there’s not much to catch up on because nothing’s moving, even though that’s paperwork too, so he just rocks back in his chair and says, “Doing anything fun for Valentine’s Day?”

And you pull a face, just like you always do. “No, we don’t really celebrate it,” you answer, because it’s more socially acceptable than going through your well-rehearsed Valentine’s Day is a capitalist scam bullet points.

Namjoon just hums, says something about chocolate and roses for his partner, maybe wine over a candlelit dinner, and it all sounds dreadfully uninspired.

So that’s how the rest of the day goes. You have another afternoon meeting with Jimin, who pops up on your screen wearing a headband trimmed with feathers and sequined hearts on tiny springs, and Jimin is animated, so they bobble in every direction the more excited he gets. Which—he works in human resources, so what is there to even get excited about?

By five-thirty you’re ready to log off and spend the rest of the evening on the couch. Maybe order some takeaway you’ll have to wait three times as long for and soak in a warm bath until all your skin turns pruney. You pick up your phone, halfway to texting Yoongi to see what he wants to do for dinner, when the lock turns in the front door.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, because there’s Yoongi, cheeks pink as he curses the cold, holding a suspiciously large gift wrapped in metallic red paper. “Hello,” you intone.

He gets caught up trying to toe off his sneakers and nearly brains himself on the console table. “Motherfuck,” comes his response. Then, like he’s just realizing you’d spoken, he says, “Hi, baby,” and sends you a gummy smile.

“What’s that?” you ask, gesturing to the package in his hands. “Looks an awful lot like it might be a Valentine’s Day gift.”

“It is,” he answers simply. “Do you want to open it?”

This is… not how this is supposed to go. Yoongi is arguably more of an anti-capitalist than you are. Your Yoongi would never buy you a Valentine’s Day gift. “Um.”

He takes one look at your expression—half confusion, half exasperation—and laughs. “It’s not gonna bite you.”

“Yeah, but—”

He sighs. Finally gets his sneakers sorted in the rack and waddles over, still wrapped tight in his winter coat. “But nothing. Here, open it.”

With one more questioning glance (that Yoongi promptly ignores), you take the gift from his hands. It’s heavy; feels solid, whatever it is. You pop the seams of the wrapping paper one at a time, still not convinced it’s not going to bite you, until the paper falls away to reveal a matte black box. A foot or so long, not as wide. You hear yourself gasp when you lift the lid.

Inside, there’s a gorgeous cutting board. Oiled maple, with the date of your and Yoongi’s anniversary etched into the corner. Resting on tissue paper with little hearts printed on it, for fuck’s sake. It’s almost sickening, how perfect it is. How thoughtful. How Yoongi it is, because this is his version of romance: something practical, something you’ve grumbled about needing a million times but haven’t gotten around to buying, because every time you mention getting a new cutting board Yoongi always scoffs and says, Why would I spend all that money on a cutting board when I could just make one for cheaper, and you reply, each time without fail, Have you seen the price of wood lately?

And, now, here it is. A cutting board with your anniversary etched into it, Yoongi still in his puffy jacket, looking bashful and a little embarrassed, fidgety as he awaits your reaction. “Do you hate it?” he asks. “I know we don’t really do gifts, but—”

“Min Yoongi, I am going to kick your ass.” You try to sound intimidating and Very Serious, but it comes out all waterlogged.

“Uh,” he responds, “I’m not really sure if that’s a yes or a no. Baby?”

“Of course I don’t hate it. Are you insane? Where did you even do this? When did you do this?”

He laughs, deep deep deep. Scratches at the back of his neck. “Funny story, actually. You know that weird store in the mall? The one with the ceramics and the painting and shit?” You nod; Jimin keeps trying to drag you there to get shitfaced and paint watercolors. “Yeah, well. I stopped by the mall today to buy Slam Dunk on DVD—”

“On DVD? Jesus, Yoongi, what are you, eighty years old?”

“—and some guy was standing outside trying to get people to buy shit, and I wasn’t gonna make you a fuckin’ lumpy mug, was I? So I said no, and he said come on, you look like a romantic guy, and I know he was lying and trying to get a reaction out of me, so I was like, yeah okay, but only if you have cutting boards, because you’ve been talking about getting one and I wasn’t expecting that weird fuckin’ store to have cutting boards, and then he said they did and it… just kind of spiraled.”

You’re a little stunned.

“Oh my god,” you reply. “You’re ridiculous. You’re the best. I love you. I didn’t get you anything, though.”

Yoongi shakes his head, presses a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t worry about it. I got the DVD set so just pay me back for it and we’ll call it even.”

“I can’t do that,” you argue. “You got me this nice, thoughtful gift—”

“Technically, I got you more, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna murder me first.”

“What—” you begin to say, but then the doorbell rings.

There’s the delivery person, bag of takeout in hand from your favorite restaurant. Behind him, another delivery person from the bougie florist across town, holding what looks like a hundred roses.

“Min Yoongi!” you yell, and Yoongi quickly thanks the people at the door and shuts it. “I will sue you!”