An amateur imagines blog for all those characters who don't get enough love! She/her, In my 20's and incredibly immature, so I will make fart jokes and I do not appologize --REQUESTS ARE CLOSED--
1. Please no ships! I'm purely an 'x reader' or 'x oc' blog. This might change in the future, but if that happens I'll make an announcement.
2. If you guys do have an oc, link me art, or are another imagines creator with a separate blog, and you want me to write something for you, PLEASE GIVE ME THE NAME OF YOUR BLOG. I want to link it so people can see your content!!
3. PSA-- I'm a NSFW newbie. I will write it, but I do have my limits:
I won't write:
---Rape Scenes/Rape Fantasy
---CP (In fact, all pedophiles fuck right off? You're not welcome here)
---Incest
---Age play, Daddy/ Mommy kink is okay, but anything beyond that is a no go.
I will write:
---If you give me feedback! Part of the reason that I started this blog was to get better at writing things out of my Comfort Zone, and again, I am a newbie at straight up NSFW. I want to know if I get it right for you, so send me a thumbs up if it satisfies your inner horny demon. I'd be happy to rewrite or take another prompt if it doesn't hit the "sweet spot".
---If you specify NSFW content. I'm a soft bitch baby, so my default is fluff/suggestive. Please specify if you want the request to progress into straight up fucking, or if I can simply end in suggestive.
Extra notes: My default is gender neutral. If you really want to specify a female reader or male reader let me know, but I try to make my imagines as inclusive as possible.
I saw you do an ask about a Bloodborne Hunter S/O so I have my own little deviation of it:
Imagine, if you will, if the ladies of House Dimitrescu had a middle-aged s/o in a wheelchair. They're not disabled, but they're like Gehrman, the First Hunter: they're resting. Then one day, the castle is broken into by say lycans or those dungeon zombies become too high a number. So the ladies of the House are busy dealing with it while trying to find their lover and when they do, they're standing for the first time wielding a GIANT scythe.
FUCKING YOOO!!!!!
*Ludwig The Accursed & Holy Blade kicks on*, I am so, so weak for Bloodborne Hunter! Reader, my beloved survivor of Eldritch abominations...
General, nonspecific scenario ahoy!
The flood of vermin into the castle was an inexcusable mistake.
At this point, it doesn't matter how this happened-- The Lady Dimitrescu is furious that she even has to wet her nails with such filth, and while her daughters are enjoying the diversion of the hunt there is a tension in the air that continues to build the more Lycans flood the castle. You, the newest and most vulnerable member of their house, sit somewhere in the castle. Unguarded.
You've been confined to your chair for as long as they've known you, which means that without an adequate weapon you are defenseless.
The Lady of the house hides it the best, but the more and more that fodder floods the hallways, the more panic sets in. You're not well. You're not safe.
The door to the entryway slams open.
Time stops, even the vermin slow as a pressure and fear beyond mortal comprehension begins to permeate the space.
There you stand, your silhouette casting a long, squirming shadow in the doorway. Your blade drags on the ground, and each step you make is steadier than a metronome as you steadily approach the bloodbath.
The Lady of the House watches you, more composed than her daughters--all three of them seem to be transfixed by your presence.
You take a single finger and run it along the sharp edge of the scythe. Your skin parts before it even touches the blade, so eager to meet a familiar friend that it splits and reaches out to meet it of it's own accord. When your blood is pulled to the surface you sigh, relaxed and almost relieved at the familiar feeling.
Born by the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood...
A twist of your wrist, and your scythe twirls, delighted to be free for the first time in so long.
The Hunt is On.
Alcina knows that you are a hunter, but she was also under the impression that you were retired. In the moment, her emotions are still mostly rage and embarrassment -- the fact that she lost control of her castle for even a moment is shameful, and the fact that her consort had to assist her is even more upsetting. She should be caring for you, not the other way around. She takes pride in her ability to pamper you and keep you safe, and though you might not blame her, it stings that the situation escalated to the point where you needed to defend yourself. Still, once she has had a moment to calm down, after all the vermin have been exterminated, she lets out a long sigh of relief. You're safe, her daughters are safe, and now she has enough faith to fully address the situation so it never happens again. More than that, she can trust you to hold your own (and be very, very sexy while you do it. The way you suck a long rivulet of blood off of your blade might not be the most sanitary, but it doesn't stop Alcina from remembering her favorite way you use your tongue).
Bela is smitten. You are unnatural and strange and Eldritch beyond comprehension, and she has never wanted to make out with you more. This is a phase of self discovery she was not expecting, but as she watches your smile split your face wider than it should, your eyes giddy and dewy with the blood of your prey, she fully embraces her attraction. It doesn't make sense to her, but she will absolutely daydream about the way you lick the blade of your scythe for decades.
Cassandra is the most worried of anyone in the family. You should not be here. Anxiety pulses the black blood in her veins and makes her almost hysterical. While you busy yourself slaughtering Lycans, Cassandra watches your back, murderously protective and terrified to lose you-- despite your ability. When the flood of vermin finally ends, expect her to pull you into a hug, pressing her lips into the pulse point of your neck and refusing to let go until she calms down.
Daniela is delighted. You were holding back!! She knew it!! She KNEW it!! This feral little gremlin now refuses to let you rest-- you must show her all your moves, your attacks, your parries, your strategies... The youngest will even ask for a duel just to have a close-up of the bloodthirsty expression on your face. You break her nose with the butt of your scythe and she swoons. God, you're so hot. 💞💞
YOU WRITE FOR BIOSHOCK??? PLS CAN WE GET DATE HEADCANONS FOR DIANE MCCLINTOCK I CAN TREAT HER SO MUCH BETTER THAN RYAN
GOOD!!!! YOU HAVE MY BLESSING!!!!
Warnings: 18+ suggestive implications, borderline cheating? I mean it's implied cucking of Andrew Ryan as he simultaneously gets dumped over the phone because I think it's funny 🤷
Diane McClintock First Date Headcannons
First things first: Andrew Ryan is a sonofabitch
Unfortunately, he is the exact type of sonofabitch that could prey on someone like Diane McClintock.
Diane has been raised a certain way that primed her for this Trainwreck of a relationship. Women are to be seen and not heard, and to be loved is the same thing as being taken care of. Andrew Ryan, despite his emotional distance, did take care of her.
The Bastard Founder of Rapture kept her at his beck and call for physical needs, and occasionally called her so that he could rant about his problems, but their relationship was never equal. Ryan wouldn't have wanted that, but the real tragedy is that Diane didn't think she needed it.
After all, Ryan was a visionary. A great man! He was fascinating, passionate and driven, and let Diane of all people witness his thought process and listen to him. When he wasn't thinking about Rapture, he might even take her out to dinner, at at that dinner give her a full set of diamond jewelry -- tennis bracelet included, of course! -- just because it would make her eyes sparkle. Wasn't that respect? Wasn't that love?
And he was so stressed all the time, so worried about the success and the future of Rapture... All Diane had to do was be supportive. She felt silly asking for more.
(No matter how empty she felt.)
So when you come along and actually engage with her intellectually? Oh, Diane is already halfway in love with you.
She's a smart cookie, and you actually acknowledge that. When you first met her, she was busy drinking her sorrows away at some high society party. And instead of using a sleazy pick up line, or offering to get her drunker, you recognize her as Ryan's partner and start to engage with her ABOUT RAPTURE.
Not just planning and infrastructure, but the philosophy behind the city. Did she come to the city for it's libertarian ideals? What are her thoughts on objectivism? Did she think it was even reasonable to build a city under the sea?
She can't remember the last time someone engaged with her so authentically. And you're not mindlessly agreeing with every point she makes either! You actually argue with Diane if you disagree with anything she says.
AND YOU LET HER DISAGREE WITH YOU. Diane is floored. She can't remember a time when she hasn't been pressured to agree with whomever she's speaking with, even simple acquaintances. (Again FUCK ANDREW RYAN)
The more you speak with her, the more you're drawn in, and the feeling is very much mutual. You ask for her opinion on everything, and you actually take her thoughts into account.
Your motivations are your own but they all boiled down to a simple truth--Diane is a gorgeous woman and you wanted to engage with her. She was fascinating, an everyman's intellectual (meant in the most flattering way possible). She's the sort of star worth approaching.
Diane can easily pick up on your genuine interest. The best part is that not only do you see HER as a whole person, but you're also great to talk to. You're funny! Interesting! Engaging! ....And very, very cute.
By the end of the night, you've burrowed into her brain. Diane is determined to see you again.
Despite the looming specter of Andrew Ryan hovering over you both, she asks you to dinner. Not a Date but... A "Talk".
A talk is innocent enough! Why not?
Your "Talk" is quite simple: a few days later, in a small booth at the back of a mid-tier restaurant where the two of you have enough privacy to speak about whatever crosses your mind.
However, when you show up, Diane is already there... Absolutely Dressed. To. Kill.
Something makes her want to really impress you, and not JUST with what she has to say. So when she tugs you down into the booth and starts chatting with you excitedly, she's also trying to get your every aspect of your focus.
Diane knows how to look her best, what angles of light flatter her features the most, and just the right movements that draw attention to just the right places.
When you look down, she crosses and uncrosses her legs, the slit of her dress separating in the most tantalizing way. She draws your attention to her lips, tilts her head to expose the column of her throat, gestures her fingers in such a way that forces your gaze to follow her neckline and keep going...
And as intellectual as you are, and as much as you might have been drawn in by her opinions... it's, uh, REALLY hard to be immune to that kind of attention.
(To a woman who wants to be heard just as much as she wants to be wanted, your flustered gaze and distracted rambling is everything she hoped it would be ❤️)
At the end of the night, Diane's heartbeat is loud enough that she can hear it in her ears. She's not a love at first sight kind of gal, but she is a big believer in The Spark of Chemistry going on between you both.
It's already a better start than any relationship she's ever had before.
It's not that hard for her to convince you to head back to her penthouse for a nightcap, and from there the conversation continues, toeing the line into addressing the palpable tension between you.
With you beside her on her settee, Diane talks to you honestly about her present and future, about giving up a life of comfort, about how Andrew defined freedom and how trapped she felt within that narrative... and she wonders at the stab of pain in her chest at the understanding smile on your face as you get up and offer to leave.
Diane pulls you back down into a searing kiss that has you borderline delirious. Her choice is obvious. You are NOT complaining. 💖
...And then her private phone rings. The exclusive line. Ryan.
Unhooking the phone, Diane puts a finger to her lips with a grin, and you match her mischief immediately, moving your attention elsewhere.
You're pressing kisses into her neck, marking up her skin with teeth and tongue and moving down, down, down as Diane breathlessly twirls the phone cord in her free hand.
"Andrew? What a coincidence, I was just about to ring you," She lets out a giggling sigh as your hand slides up her thigh, bunching her dress just above her waist, "We need to talk..."
Ahhhhh I'm so happy you're back! I love your writing prompts and have read them dozens of times! Thank you for sharing your work with all of us :)
Everybody has been so nice TYSM!!!!!!!
I'm honestly so glad you're having fun on my blog!!! I feel almost shy because everyone has been so supportive after my ALMOST TWO YeAR HIATUS??? The RE8 community in particular has been so cool!
Howdy dowdy, Partner. It's me, ya boi, Skinny Penis.
How would the Lords react to a selectively mute S/O? Especially their reaction to them talking to them for the first time.
I have this mental image of Heisenberg's S/O saying something really casually (while they're relaxing or something), and he just whips around to look at them and he just shouts "hoLY FUCK!"
Saw the first line of this ask and then it was followed by a cute prompt????---
Warnings: swearing, my typical brand of silly
Alcina Dimitrescu
She's so used to your quiet demeanor it's to the point where she COMPLETELY forgot that your silence is a choice.
Alcina quite honestly never expected you to speak to her, and she was mentally planning for the rest of your relationship to be this way -- all of the servants are learning to sign, just in case, and she has pens and paper in every room if you prefer to write as your form of communication.
When you do finally speak up, she's frozen. What.
Oh. You can. You...can speak?
It's one of the times you've ever seen Alcina baffled, because honestly? She has no idea what to do.
However, you can bet she IMMEDIATELY analyses the situation in order to make sure she can get you to keep talking to her. Whatever made this happen needs to be repeated as much as possible -- Now that she knows you can be made comfortable enough to speak, she needs to hear you speak again.
(It might not have been your intention, but you hit her right in the superiority complex. Her partner spoke to HER. JUST her. Exclusively. Alcina is going to be riding this high for decades)
The Lady Dimitrescu is a big believer in positive reinforcement with her loved ones, so you better believe that every time you speak she is extra affectionate, because she does like to hear your voice!💞
Essentially, you have prompted constant affection DO NOT RESIST---
Donna Beneviento
I mentioned this in my other Donna x Mute reader post, but Donna is able to relate to a mute s/o a lot.
She's pretty nonverbal herself, so often you two have moments of quiet peace, where the two of you are doing your own thing together in the same room, taking breaks only to hold hands, cuddle, and kiss each other sweetly.
Truly dreamy💕💕💕
The first time you speak to her though, she's sewing a new outfit for one of her dolls, while you're reading in the setee beside her.
You peak over her shoulder, clear your throat and say: "You're really talented, Donna".
She drops a stitch.
Her face is burning underneath her veil. The first thing you say to her is a complement??? About a skill she is actually proud of??? That's already enough to get her heart stuttering, but you said her name.
It feels like such a small thing, but it sends Donna into a tizzy. Your lips formed the syllables of her name, and she can't get over it. You said a compliment and her name in the same sentence.
She's swooning. Smitten. Overcome.
Expect some flustered giggling and a compliment in return.
Salvatore Moreau
Salvatore has no chill whatsoever.
He literally drops everything and scuttles across the room to stand in front of you, flitting his hands around you in excitement, not quite touching you but close.
He's! So! Excited!
He didn't process what you even said-- you SPOKE TO HIM!!!! Fireworks are going off in his brain, Kool and the Gang are celebrating the good times, life is beautiful and love is in the air....
Moreau is delighted by this development. You feel safe enough around him a monster to vocalize your thoughts. You trust him. He already knew you did, but this is confirmation he didn't even know he wanted. Moreau almost starts crying he's so relieved.
Meanwhile you're repeatedly trying to warn him about the disaster occurring on the stove.
"... Salvatore, honey, the pancakes are burning."
Honey???? HONEY??? Are you TRYING to kill him????
Salvatore staggers on his feet, unintentionally the most dramatic you've ever seen him.
Sighing, you hide a smile behind your palm and give him a little smooch on the cheek before you go rescue your breakfast.
Moreau flatlines. Better give him some mouth to mouth 💗.
Karl Heisenberg
Absolutely shocked the first time you speak.
He's working on a soldat, fully used to the silence as he solders body parts together to make a deadly monster worthy of murdering Mother Miranda.
"You missed a spot--"
jESUS FUCK
Very softly, you speak up again. "At the shoulder. It's not... It's not fully connected."
Heisenberg whips around to just...stare??? At you for a bit?? His face is totally expressionless, but make no mistake his brain is reeling.
What is he supposed to do here? You feel comfortable enough to talk with him--this is a big deal, right? Is he supposed to comfort you? Praise you?
Still, it's not in Heisenberg's nature to make a big deal of things, and he doesn't want to spook you.
Eventually he nods, grunts in acknowledgement, and gets back to work.
Still, your words ring in his ears. Your voice fits you so well? He never really thought about what you sounded like before, but honestly now it's all he can think about.
Much later, when you almost forget about the whole thing, he'll offhandedly say he's proud of you for finally speaking up for yourself.
It's kinda condescending? But you know Heisenberg pretty well, and the fact he refuses to meet your eyes let's you know he's just being his normal, socially stunted self.
Thank him for the "compliment" and you'll get a pleased grin back, as well as a teasing hair ruffle. He's...happy you're comfortable with him.
It just makes your relationship feel even more right. ❤️
How would the ladies of RE8 react to an S/O with BPD? Would they be able to take our emotional dysregulation in stride, or would they find us difficult to love?
Friend, I am not super familiar with BPD, so feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong, but I am telling you right now that an S/O with BPD would not be hard to love at all.
Some rambling thoughts below:
Both of these ladies are more than willing to put the work into this relationship, and if you're willing to meet them halfway they are happy to do the same. There will be difficulties like there are in any relationship, it's just that the type of problems will be a little different.
Alcina handles it the better of the two. She's very good with people, and you're not the only person she's ever met with BPD. However, she is delighted to remind you that you are the only person with BPD that she's ever had patience for, so she doesn't get offended by what you might do or say on an "off day". Alcina knows that sometimes you're going to have mood swings--she has had a few herself and you've forgiven her for it, why wouldn't she do the same for you?
Still, Alcina will also be making sure you're seeing a therapist on the regular. She knows quite a bit about psychology and what makes you tick, but... As loathe as she is to admit it, there might, maybe, possibly be something that you might want to discuss in private with a professional. She wants to make sure you're happy and healthy, after all. Therapy is the bare minimum to help make that happen.
Donna handles it a little bit less well, but only because she has a tendency to shut down if she gets yelled at, at which point Angie will take over and start defending her. If you know that you get loud when you're dysregulated, you two absolutely need to have a talk about it, or it will end with the both of you in tears. Both of you very quickly figure out a system where if you get to the point where your volume starts to rise, she and Angie will move into the next room until you're a little calmer.
I will say though, that if your BPD is intertwined with any abandonment issues, it brings out a bit more of a villainous side of Lady Beneviento. She has serious abandonment issues of her own, and will absolutely cultivate an unhealthy, codependent dynamic with you if you're not careful. After all, Donna really, really loves you! And don't you want to spend time with the person you love? Isn't it nice not to be alone? You don't have to be alone at all, so why do you think she'd let you? So. There's, uh, definitely some couples therapy in your future. Please God, go to Couple's Therapy.
This man has spent a good portion of his life watching his family through walls, hoping and wishing and yearning for their happiness, even if it doesn't involve him.
Meaning? He has a staring problem.
Bruno actually caught feelings for you from a distance. You're just...so nice. Nonjudgmental. It's what drew his gaze to you in the first place, how everyone felt safe to be themselves around you. He didn't even need to interact with you to see how wonderful you are!
...Which is a problem.
Bruno refuses to approach you-- he can't. It's just not possible.
But he will watch you.
He watches the way you smile and laugh, he's hypnotized by the way your hair bounces when you walk, he wants to take his thumb and rub away the little furrow between your eyebrows that shows up when you're reading intently, kiss your lips every time you bite them--
(Or is that too much, hahahahahahahah-- Kill him, someone anyone please please please---)
Bruno is so, so awkward. While Tio Bruno is funny and adoring with his family, as well as hilariously sassy when he wants to be, people outside his social circle are Not Trusted with anything but The Madrigal Manners. Years of being accused of malicious intent makes it difficult for him to be fully himself in public, and the decades of isolation made him forget all the important social cues.
But you? He's exponentially worse around you.
The few times you've actually spoken with Bruno, he was both Supremely Polite and a Tongue Tied Disaster.
He comments on easy, obvious topics, like the weather or the weekend, but he talks so quickly he can't breathe and starts laughing at things that aren't even jokes. He'll open doors for you or pull out your chair, but will trip over the door frame or accidentally tip the chair over and scramble to pick it back up.
You make him a mess. You whip his thoughts so frothy he can barely remember what he's said, let alone focus on putting up a wall. It's incredibly endearing, and it makes his crush on you supremely obvious.
He's had one or two childhood crushes, but it has been literal decades since the last time his heart beat this fast. It was so bad that this idiot (affectionate) literally thought he was having a heart attack the first time you made eye contact with him--Fully clutching at his chest and panicking before darting away to get some help.
There is a certain amount of guilt he feels about his crush. After all, he's not exactly prime husband material. Bruno is acutely aware of how old he is, and there aren't many love stories out there for people his age(a crime imo). "The fifty year old uncle" is usually the creepy antagonist in drama, never a romantic hero. Besides that, there's the matter of his reputation. Even with the rest of the Madrigal family working to repair it, there are still parts of the Encanto that don't like the weird fortune-telling hermit that LIVED IN THE WALLS OF HIS OWN HOUSE FOR SOME REASON.
(....There is also a little bit of guilt of the Catholic variety. His thoughts about you can get pretty spicy late at night. After one of those he can't bring himself to even look at you.)
Bruno won't confess his feelings to you if he can help it. He doesn't think he deserves romantic love, especially not from someone as wonderful as you, and the last thing he wants to do is burden you with his feelings. He's been enough of a burden already. He will try to get over you before he even considers hinting that he likes you.
Unfortunately, Bruno's resolve isn't as strong as he wishes it was.
Every time he tries to suppress his feelings, someone will simply say your name in passing and it's enough to fully divert his train of thought back to how kind you are, how funny, how understanding....
Fantasies have always been a huge coping mechanism for him, but lately, baby you are the star of every. single. one.
Some are realistic: He pictures the two of you hand in hand, walking to the market, and he's somehow managed to be funny and charming enough to make you smile just for him.
Or maybe you have a suitcase packed and ready to leave the village--it's raining of course--and Bruno will run out to you, pull you into a tight embrace and kiss the idea right out of you.
He could live out his childhood dream and be the director of a theater troupe, while you, his newest actor shaking with nerves, ask him to run through your lines together. He agrees, comforts you through your stage fright, and as your practice ends the chemistry between you both is electric enough to crackle. He just knows you'll do great things together...
Bruno is his best self in every fantasy, of course, witty and charming and without a single grain of sand in his hair. Often, in private, he has his rats reenact his favorite daydreams. (Whichever Rat that plays you gets extra treats. It's the most coveted role.)
...Eventually, though, his wistful sighing and blatant eavesdropping on any conversation involving you start to get on his Family's nerves. They've been supportive of his crush--why wouldn't they be, they've met you, you're great!-- but it's also obvious Bruno is going to need a helping hand.
Mirabel in particular gets it in her head to play Cupid after she sees how happy her Tio gets talking about you. She gathers up the youngest generation of Madrigals, and all of them begin conspiring ways to push Bruno into as many situations with you as possible.
Isabella invites you over to help garden, while Luisa gets her Tio to come help her organize where the pots should go. Antonio begs you to play hide and seek with him and his animal friends, and it's not like Bruno can resist his nephew's puppy eyes either. Mirabel brings Bruno along to tell stories to some of the local village kids, and Camilo makes sure you're nearby to see his Tio in his element.
Bruno immediately picks up on the fact that his nieces and nephews are trying to meddle, but he can't find it in himself to get upset about it.
Besides, it's a little hard to think lately when so many of your pretty smiles seem to be directed at him...
...Maybe he has more of a chance than he thought? 💞
Karl hating his metal form, reader stumbles upon him during one of his fits and he accidentally transforms. Angst ensues 😶♥️
.... I like the cut of your jib babes.
Body Horror, Angst Ahoy.
Transformed! Karl Heisenberg x Reader
The worst part is the noise.
The pulling and twisting of skin and muscle pops and pulls, and the bang of metal colliding and fusing with skin snaps with an electric charge. You hear the ozone buzz in you ears, taste it on your tongue, and watch helplessly as the form in front of you warps beyond recognition.
And layered on top of it all is the unhinged laughter.
You could have comforted him through yelling and screaming. You'd done it before, you were more than willing to do it again...except today was something worse. Your attempts to talk him down had failed at every step of the way, and it had become abundantly clear that this was something entirely different-- it wasn't a tantrum. It wasn't a fit.
This rage was cancerous.
The form in front of you grows from both the inside and the outside, muscles splitting into fibers like the limbs of an amoeba and snatching metal from the air to pull into the writhing mass. His legs snap backwards at the knees, but you can barely bring yourself to worry about that when his bones puncture through his skin before being knit together with industrial steel.
The-thing-that-was-Heisenberg turns in place to face you, and the screech of metal that comes with the movement is loud enough that you finally need to cover your ears....
Which fully exposes your terrified facial expression to the monster in front of you.
It's laughter grows even more hysterical.
"Speechless, are we?!" The monster's disembodied voice shakes the ground. "I don't blame you! It's hard not to be, when faced with all this!"
Saw blades larger than a house slam down inches away from you, the force of the impact so great it sends you tumbling to the floor.
"GET OUT!" It roars.
The blades begin to whir loudly-- but the sharp sound isn't loud enough to disguise the horrific noise of the monster's own flesh tearing beneath the spinning metal.
(You're too frightened to notice that the blades aren't actually moving towards you.)
It takes everything you have not to cower on the ground. Instead, you sit upright and try to stop your lips from trembling.
You don't say a word, but you don't move away either.
Pistons depressurize and hiss as something that could have once been a face towers over you. There's a human eye there, and the edges of a mouth that looks somewhat familiar.
"You're supposed to listen to me," it's voice is a hissing slur. "when I tell you to run."
And despite the terror in your throat, the blades spinning right next to your torso, and the crackle of electricity stinging your skin and no doubt arcing burns in it's wake--
You lean in.
You cup it's--his face between your hands and lean your forehead against his. Then you close your eyes, and you pretend you're leaning against warm skin and not hot steel.
When he pushes back, your heart breaks.
It's just Karl. He's just a little different. You know him. He needs you.
You try to pretend you're not afraid.
(It's even harder than pretending the tears dripping across your fingers don't exist.)
