#// i usually have him either use sign language or write notes

[tonycries]

The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 

Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 

Everything. 

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss. 

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 

Everything. 

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew. 

You’d kissed him back. 

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 

What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck. 

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused. 

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there. 

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru. 

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you. 

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 

Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[motthe]

hiii !! just read like ,, a BUNCH of ur lumen au stuff ,,,, truly i am brainrotted now because i'm just thinking of so many different scenarios involving the lumens and i am just . EXCITED !!! its SUCHHHH a good concept im a big big sucker for soulmate stuff ,,,,

i was just wondering how you feel about jayvik x reader ,,,, TWO lumens ,,,,,,,, idk if you write for anything poly or not, but id love to hear your thoughts on it !!! either through headcanons or a ficlet, whichever you feel like :]

my first viktor x reader x jayce piece i’ve ever written… wait is this my first poly drabble?? it might be actually! i hope it’s fun to read ♥️

warnings: fem!reader, slight negative feelings of not being good enough, but overall fluff!!!

The scientific jargon that came with having not one but both of your fated being inventors was overwhelming. The words they tossed around became an entire other language since you’d all gotten closer. It left you feeling unbearably empty-headed, wondering why the universe would bond you to such intelligent men.

They were already changing an entire city with their ideas, and you would bet the world would soon bear their mark as well. In comparison, you were a meager artist making ends meet at festivals and street corners. Sure, maybe your work could be seen on a few shop signs or covering a wall or two in a cafe, but that was as famous as you’d ever be—a stranger to the passing eye.

“We need to widen the cylindrical chamber, maybe add an exhaust pipe to help with the cooldown.”

Jayce’s voice slipped through your head, smooth and confident and making no sense. You’d gotten rather good and tuning out the meat of the conversations, only recognizing the tones and emotions.

The heavy, warm accent of Viktor’s replied, swirling in the back of your mind as your pencil swiped over the heavy parchment against your thighs.

Recently, they’d begun inviting you to their lab to spend your free time in their company. There were two desks to choose from, though they were usually piled high with blueprints or notes. Jayce had moved a couch into the space for your comfort, placed in the corner and under a window, well away from any dangerous work they had their hands on, though they usually took anything too precarious into another portion of the building.

Their assistant, Sky, was in and out, always double-checking if you needed anything. She was a kind young woman, curly hair and glasses and a smile that made anyone feel at home. She brought you your own coffee and snacks, promising it was no trouble since she was already bringing them to Viktor and Jayce, anyway.

“You actually eat them,” she chuckled. “Jayce will if he notices they’re there, but it’s a long shot most days.”

You understood what she meant, seeing how focused the men became on their gadgets and studies. You’re sure if you got up and left they wouldn’t notice for a good, long while.

Today was one of those days, though there was peace in your private little corner as you sketched away. You squinted over the top of your sketchbook, skimming the outline of Viktor’s goggles pressed into his thick, winding hair and quickly adding the little licks of tresses to the paper before he was moving again.

You switched targets, taking in Jayce’s side profile and adding a bit more depth to his eyebrow and under eye.

Taking a moment to look between both drawings, you were hit with their beauty once more.

Jayce was deemed the academy’s “pretty boy,” with his strong jaw and perfect smile. He was a clean cut handsome, peak health and built with broad shoulders. He knew how to use those looks to his advantage.

On the other end was Viktor. He was a haunting beauty, sleek and angular. If he had the same charisma with speaking to the masses as Jayce did, that accent would gain him more than a fair share of admirers, but his confidence and skills lied elsewhere. He had a sharp eye and wore his emotions rather loudly on his face.

Where Jayce had faint lines from how much he smiled, Viktor had a feather soft crease between his brows from how often he furrowed them. Where the golden boy’s hands were always warm, his partner’s was cold. They made such gorgeous opposites, yet they held so many comparisons in mannerisms when it came to their shared hobbies and passions.

It was safe to say you adored them and their intricacies.

Taking a slow, deep breath you checked both shoulders before moving the tuft of black in your periphery into your hand. Gold shimmered between the dark mass that made up Jayce’s lumen, settling deeper into your palm as you raised your arms and stretched.

When you moved your drawing pad to the side, you spotted Viktor’s wedged between the apex of your thighs. Swallowing your gasp, you scooped it up, praying it hadn’t been smushed the entire time.

“When did you get there?” you whispered, rubbing your pointer finger into the tawny fuzz of his light. His lumen had always had a bit more give to it, leaving it to wedge itself under your leg or your shirt collar. Viktor’s preferred to be as close as possible to you, even if it left his lumen squished.

Jayce’s lumen was firmer, still soft but in a velveteen sort of sensation. It was bigger, taking up a good portion of your palm. Now your second month with it, you’d learned if it wasn’t on one of your shoulders, it was likely circling your head. His never went far either.

You wondered if you’d received Jayce’s lumen first, if it would have more of an attachment to you. As it stood, you’d had Viktor’s since you were young while he’d held Jayce’s and Jayce yours. The three of you being tied together had become quite the story as there went many outward poly fateds in Piltover, but luckily the gawking had passed after the first handful of weeks.

It was only a few days ago that Viktor confessed he’d been rather confused when he’d met Jayce and the lumens had flashed against one another.

“There were no similarities,” he’d explained, holding up one long, thin finger for your lumen to rest on as it hovered in front of him. The three of you were cozied up in your lackluster apartment—a studio more than a bedroom but it had a nice pullout couch and plenty of blankets to rest on in front of your heater. “Jayce was ecstatic, of course, but I was ruminating over your lumen when we first met.”

“I thought he hated me,” Jayce had murmured, breath warm against your ear as you laughed.

“I did not hate you,” huffed Viktor on your other side, rolling his eyes as he dropped his hand, your lumen resting within. “I wasn’t aware we had a third, yet—it was puzzling.”

“I had to explain it to him,” Jayce chuckled. “One of my old friends was in a poly.”

“And, then, he was even more ecstatic,” Viktor sighed but there was affection in it. “I thought you’d follow him home some nights.”

“And leave you all by yourself?” You laid your head on his shoulder, grinning as his eyes fled. It was still so early into the relationship, and he grew flustered with physical affection whereas Jayce sought it every chance. “I’d never.”

“It’s better now, we’re all together,” Jayce hummed, lowering to lay his head in your lap. You brushed your hand through his hair, smiling as his lumen lit up in Viktor’s lap.

“Yes,” Viktor had agreed, careful as he laid his head against yours. “It all feels…complete.”

Your chest warmed at the memory as you held both of their lumens in your hands, giving a fleeting kiss to each. Viktor’s snuggled happily into your palm while Jayce’s pulsed a happy gold before flying off, likely to check in with Viktor.

As your eyes lifted to follow its journey, you jumped when you found Jayce smiling from a few feet away by his desk. He seemed to be shuffling through some papers. Your lumen floated just nice his head, twinkling in the sunlight that shone through the windows behind you.

“Didn’t see you there,” you said, stretching your legs out before standing. Viktor’s lumen left your hand, keeping close to your neck.

“I hope you’re not bored.” He opened an arm up and you approached. You still grew giddy with any chance to be wrapped in his embrace, quick to accept the invitation.

“I like spending time here with you both,” you assured, giggling as he bent down to kiss your forehead. “Gives me plenty of practice.”

His eyes lit up, one of those dark eyebrows lifting. “Oh?”

“I know what you’re about to ask—”

“Please?” His arm wrapped tighter around your waist. “I wanna see.”

“They’re just rough sketches!” you laughed, pushing against his chest.

“C’mon, I bet they’re great! I’m sure Viktor wants to see them, too.”

You shook your head, a mess of giggles as he wrapped both arms around you and slowly edged his way towards the couch.

“Did someone call my name?” asked Viktor, turning from the machine he was working on. A torch was in his hand but luckily still off for the time being. Jayce’s lumen was sitting on his knee.

“Viktor tell her you want to see her art!” Jayce goaded.

“Tell him he needs to wait for a real piece,” you threw back, wrinkling your nose at him as he stuck his tongue out.

“You’ve been drawing us?” Viktor’s voice seeped with awe and innocent curiosity. “May we see?”

Jayce bounced his eyebrows at you, all too smug. “Told you.”

“Fine—fine!” you sighed, throwing your hands up and wiggling out of his hold as you went to grab your canvas notebook. “Don’t gripe when you see your half-finished faces.”

The tap of Viktor’s crutch intermingled with Jayce’s footsteps as they met you by the couch. As you handed over your work, Viktor was the one to accept it as Jace stood over him. Both their eyes went wide at the current page and your hand went straight to your arm as you shuffled in place.

“Those are just warmups, so…”

“Warmups?” Jayce breathed, looking up from the notebook. “These are amazing!”

“I have to agree, the detail is astounding,” Viktor hummed, looking to turn back a page. He caught your eyes before he did. “Is this all right? Tell us if we’re overstepping.”

“No, it’s okay! I’m used to people watching me draw on the street, it’s just… I don’t know.” You shrugged, bringing a hand up as Viktor’s lumen rubbed against your neck. Jayce’s was just settling on your shoulder again. “I care about what you guys think. It’s not anything big like you do, but…”

“Big?” Jayce echoed, both of their sights set on you.

“Well, it’s not as important as what you both do is what I mean.”

“Of course it’s important,” Viktor argued, expression stern.

“But it’s art!” you laughed, waving off the sudden seriousness growing from them. “It’s helping a bunch of people like your creations do. That’s much more important.”

“Art is just as, if not more, important,” he continued, passing the notebook to Jayce. “We are helping people in different ways, but do not do yourself the disservice and think what you create is anything less than what we do.”

“He’s right,” Jayce agreed, holding up your work. “This? This speaks to people. Your work can bring life to a room and lets people save a special moment in time.”

“Okay, don’t butter me up so much or I’ll melt!” you squeaked, too embarrassed to look at them as they chuckled and continued flipping through your sketches. It wasn’t long before the three of you were on the couch, both of them pointing out their favorites.

“Is my hair truly that messy?” Viktor grumbled, raising a hand to it. “Perhaps I should cut it.”

“No, I like it,” you said, grabbing his wrist. “You twirl it when you’re thinking! It’s so sweet.”

He blinked at you. “I do?”

Jayce whistled and you turned and gasped, completely forgetting the drawing you’d done of him in the forge. It was more from memory so your imagination had left it a bit more detailed than the rest.

“Okay, that’s enough!”

You swiped for the book, shutting it as Jayce laughed. Viktor rolled his eyes, smirking as he nudged your shoulder.

“Should I be worried of any scandalous pieces of me in there?”

You pouted, holding the notebook tighter to your chest.

“Oh?” Jayce breathed. “She didn’t say no!”

“You two are the worst!” you groaned, unable to help yourself from smiling as they both laughed in tandem.

[mcgilou]

" THIS is cruel and unusual punishment! cruel and unusual, you hear!!! " now there were tears albeit they didn't last for long before she was off to togue twisters. seriously, what was this anyways? how did one pun lead to pun-ishment. oh dang, why didn't she say that as one of her puns? darn. missed opportunity. " she sells seashells on the sea shore! she sells seashells on the sea shore! she sells seashells on the sea shore! she-sells-seashells-on-the-sea-shore! she s-- OW! my tongue! "

❛  oh, please. you don't think i'm good enough to orchestrate this on my own?  ❜  though, she will acknowledge that the puns are, again, passable. it doesn't take much to surpass lailah, or whatever lame jokes meebo read in his equally-lame books. ❛  okay, now do tongue-twisters. since you did such a good job with the puns, i'll cut the quota down to three. i'm adding one back if you use the standard 'she-sells-seashells-by-the-seashore' line.  ❜

[goingmerryfics]

Law x mute S/O?

(Also love your fics <3)

Mute/Selectively Mute S/O w/ Law

Content: Gender neutral reader & SFW, Corazon mentions so spoilers for Law's backstory

Notes* I started writing for this, thought I was done, then came back to add more things because I remembered that Law used to know someone who was selectively mute…

Law

The minute he met you, he would want to know if your condition was something medical related. Whether selectively mute or not, he'd immediately be interested in finding out if there was a medical or psychological reason for you to be unable to speak

He may come off as insensitive because of this, but he doesn't mean to, and he would quickly apologize if you indicated that he'd insulted you

Speaking of insensitive, Shachi and Penguin try endlessly to ‘trick’ you into speaking

Even if you try to explain that you physically can't speak, they think it's a challenge

Bepo wouldn't mind, he'll chat away and appreciate that you're a good listener

Either way, Law knows sign language and he communicates with you that way if you are able to understand it. Being a doctor, he tries to have all his bases covered if there's ever an emergency with someone that can't talk

Otherwise he always keeps a notepad and pen on him if you need to talk to him

He may be a grump, but he's patient and understanding. He finds ways for you to communicate that work the best for you, especially for missions where he can't keep an eye on you

Best believe that if there was a way to cure you, he'd make that a top priority. If it was medical, he's got that down

But if it's related to anxiety or PTSD or stress, he'd take care to be more cautious around you to try and help you open up a little easier. He's not on you all the time in full therapy mode, it's actually the opposite. He gives you the space you need to choose to speak when you're ready.

He's at peace with knowing that he will/may never hear you talk, but in his opinion, your voice doesn't matter as much as the rest of you does

If you do have the ability to speak though, you would eventually find him working away in his office as usual

You smooth your hands over his shoulders and lean down to kiss his cheek, and he sighs out his tension and smiles a bit

“Are you trying to convince me to take a break?” He shifts so he can get a good look at you and kiss your cheek

You whisper that you miss him and even though his eyes widen, he doesn't want to spook you by making it a big deal that you spoke.

It's easier to pull him out of his chair that day and drag him to bed so he can rest his eyes

Spoilers below

Even though you'd spoken once, that doesn't mean you'll do it again and he understands that- but as time goes on, creeping memories begin to surface and haunt him

You weren't that similar to Cora, but the muteness was starting to remind him of the man he'd lost long ago, and slowly he starts to feel like maybe this was a sign that he was cursed and might lose you, too

All of the sudden, his plans against Doflamingo don't involve you anymore

He's stuffed himself in his office more, researching your condition and trying to come up with some sort of cure or treatment

He's so worried about losing you that he doesn't realize he's losing time with you

He's started to avoid you, finding it hard to stay around you when he's this anxious about your fate

Eventually you get him to open up about it and he does so teary eyed, but after a long conversation he agrees to relax a little and you assure him that you're not going anywhere

[javispunk]

I can’t protect you

Summary: After a week car ride over the state with Joel, you both decide to settle for a night at the forest. You didn’t like the idea, but Joel convinced you otherwise. He didn’t make the right choice and blames himself for what might have happened, but you know how to calm him down.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (no relationship established).

Content/Warnings: +18 SMUT (minors please don’t interact!) unprotected sex (p in v), violence (mention of use of guns and straight up violence - Joel beating the shit out of everyone), mention of rape.

Notes: Excuse any mistake, as english is not my first language. If you have any requests you’d like me to write please let me know! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated (let me know what you think!). Thank you for the support!

“Are you sure this is the right way?” You asked worried. “It’s just that we’ve been driving for hours and it all looks the same to me.”

“Yes, don’t worry.” Joel returned. “We’ll make a turn soon.”

Your relationship with Joel wasn’t very straightforward. You never got too close, but could keep an interesting conversation if you wanted to or if you needed to. You were friends. You held that title with caution, noticing he most of the times kept everything to himself and didn’t really talk much of his past. Which is understandable. He was never once rude to you in any way, but he also didn’t really shot you smiles or tried to make you laugh. You were just kind of there, with each other. Your presence made noticed by each other but never too invading. Never too close.

You noticed Joel turning left into a path that was clear from any type of vegetation. Soon enough you saw a forest.

“Joel.” You began. “What are you doing?”

You saw him grip the steering wheel to complete his turn. “We have to stop, it’s already dark out.”

You looked at him with apprehension. Sleep in the woods? Alone?

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, sleep in the actual woods?” Your voice was somewhat just a whisper.

He looked at you, his eyes trying to find the reasoning on your mind to stop him from doing this. “What about it? There’s not any type of civilization for the next hundred miles, we have to sleep somewhere. The forest is safer than on the side of the road.”

“Joel, I don’t know…” you continued.

You averted your gaze on the trees that became taller as you approached them together still inside the car. It soon came to a stop, as Joel pressed the brakes gently.

“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s all we got right now.” His eyes showed empathy, searching in your face for a sign of relief or understanding.

“Well, yeah I know. It’s just that it’s so… exposed. I feel super exposed out here. What if clickers appear?” You protested, fear beginning to show up in your voice.

“Clickers are not a problem here. We’re so isolated. They won’t come.” He assured you. You looked at him for a few seconds, hoping he’d listen to you. “Either way, clickers won’t be our worst problem.” The air got heavy as he spoke. Your expression got more deep with fear. When Joel noticed, he gave you a quick smile and spoke once again. “I’ll go grab the sleeping bags and put them outside.”

“Outside?” Your voice higher than usual.

His face serious and surprised. “Yes, outside.”

“I’ll stay in the car if that’s okay.” You grabbed your jacket to cover yourself with it.

“No no, you’ll freeze to death. We have to make a fire outside.”

You didn’t even consider that option. “I’ll be fine.”

“Absolutely not. Cmon, help me get our things please.”

You watched him get off of the car quickly. You took longer, as you looked outside your window and tried to look in between the tall slim trees that dominated the space. This was unfamiliar. You could only imagine dozens of clickers running in your direction in the middle of the night. Your gaze then followed Joel, who passed your window with two sleeping bags on his arms and his shotgun on his back. You jumped out of the car, bringing all of the blankets you had, as well as both of your jackets.

Once you approached Joel, you handed him his. “Thank you.” He smiled.

You kept your eyes on him longer than usual while he put it on, his smile captivating you, as it was not shown easily. He quickly grabbed his own sleeping bag, while you copied him, trying to seem like you knew what you were doing.

You never really did camping before the world went to shit. You watched him unfold his sleeping bag, hoping he would not notice how unfamiliar you were with your surroundings.

“We should start that fire.” His voice broke the silence.

You kept looking at him, until after a few seconds, his eyes darted at you, watching you carefully.

“Oh you want me to-“ you started, before he interrupted you.

“Only if you want to.” He stopped making his bed for a second.

You shifted in your place. “No no, I’ll do it. You keep doing that.” You gestured.

You didn’t know how to start a fire. You didn’t even know where to begin with. You stood still, looking around you and evaluating what branches you’d grab first. Your body frozen in place.

You saw him look you up, body crouched on the floor, arms supported on his bent legs. “You know how to start a fire?” His voice serious as ever, even though it didn’t announce a condescending tone.

Your eyes met his, asking for help. “I don’t…” you started. “I never really got to do this before-”

“That’s alright, you don’t need to explain.” His body ascending from the floor, after leaving his sleeping bag unattended.

“Well… what can I do?” You asked, hands folded in front of your stomach.

“You can rest if you want to.”

“I must do something, Joel.” You insisted.

His hands grabbing bigger pieces of wood that he found near by, holding them between his torso and underarm. “You can prepare the sleeping bags. Or you can make coffee.”

“That I can do.” Your shy smile making his resurface.

You had a soft spot for Joel, you always had. Since you laid eyes on him. He was attractive, yes. And he was caring, always. But he never really gave you the opportunity to open up in his presence. You guys were just sort of there, hoping to keep company to each other. Nothing ever happened, besides the occasional glances or the longing stares out of the blue. Joel was a little bit older than you, that wasn’t really a problem for you but the thought occurred to you that maybe it was an impediment for him. Maybe he’d like a more mature woman, his actual age. Sometimes you’d think about it, but rapidly shoved the thought out of your head. It was somewhat absurd.

You put the water to boil, hoping the time would go faster. You just wanted this night to go quick.

When you were done with preparing the drink, you quickly realised Joel had taken care of basically everything else. Your sleeping bags were ready to be used - each one at a safe distance from the other - and the fire was already beginning to gain force. Joel even brought some logs for you guys to sit around the fire.

You grabbed a mug full of coffee and brought it to him. “Thank you.” His face lit up by the yellowy orange fire. “You’re not gonna drink some?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I’m okay.” If you drank coffee it would just leave you more restless.

“You can go sleep if you want to. I’ll stay in watch duty, I can wake you when it’s your turn.” He adjusted the riffle on his back before taking another sip of his coffee.

“You don’t mind?” Your voice sounded like of a child scared of the dark. You were tired, so you could use the rest.

He shook his head, assuring you. You slipped into your designated sleeping bag still in your outside clothes, there was no such thing as pyjamas. You closed your eyes and started to drift off slowly.

Needless was to say your sleep didn’t last long. The overwhelming fear of being in an unknown place, of being not completely alone but just with Joel’s presence, no kind of community that can guide you or protect you in some way. The fear of not being able to save yourself from whatever might attack you. Either clickers or men. The thought didn’t occur to you until Joel mentioned it earlier, but clickers really weren’t your worst problem. There could be men scavenging unknown or uncivilised lands, hoping to find whatever they wanted, either food or arming. You began to roll in place, inside the warmth of your sleeping bag, but not even that made you comfortable enough to close your eyes. Once you faced Joel’s direction still wrapped on the blankets, you saw his back to you, on his feet, noticing his always present stance while holding his shotgun.

Your eyebrows furrowed in strangeness. You carefully, slowly got up, but Joel still managed to look your way.

“Do you wanna rest now?” Your tired voice broke the silence.

“No, I’m okay. The coffee’s helping.” He pointed to the half empty mug on the floor.

“I made sure to make it strong.” You smiled.

“Thank you.”

“But seriously.” You interrupted him. “Go rest, I’ll watch now. I can’t sleep either way.” You gestured for him to give you the rifle.

He shook his head, hoping you’d give in.

“C’mon Joel. I can work a shotgun.” You half laughed at his gesture.

“I know you can, I just don’t want you to. Go sleep.” His voice deep as ever.

“The fire is going out, and God knows I can’t do nothing about that.” You nonchalantly pointed at the crackling a few feet away from you. “Someone has to hold the gun.” You put your hand out.

Joel looked you in the eye dead serious before breaking a smile. “You’re insufferable.” He walked over to you, placing the gun harness over your head, you adjusting it to your size. “There you go.”

“Thank you, sir.” You jokingly stated.

You saw Joel crouch on the floor, working on the fire as it grew bigger and smoke made it’s way up through the tall trees.

“It should be good for another 3 hours or so-”

“Now sleep.” You ordered.

“I’m not gonna leave you here while I sleep.” He said while he kept gathering logs of wood.

“Shh.” You ordered once again.

“No, honestly, give me the gun-” you interrupted him again.

“No, shut the fuck up. Did you hear that?” Dead silence followed your question.

Joel looked at his surroundings with worried eyes, before a voice made itself known.

“Hello, hi!” A man appeared from behind the slim trees, his hands in the air over his head. Joel rapidly got closer to you, positioning his body almost in front of yours. You moved away from him, immediately pointing the shotgun to the man’s chest. “You can put the gun down, honey.”

Your eyes stayed still on the man’s face, not moving a muscle.

Joel’s voice sounded rispid. “What do you want?”

The man looked at him with apprehension. “I’ve been walking alone for a few weeks now, I don’t have anything on me. I haven’t eaten or drunk a single drop of water in two days.” His left hand moved to his stomach, resting there for a few seconds before moving back to the air.

“We have nothing to give you.” Joel’s voice came out cruel.

“Joel…” you spoke softly next to him, trying to attend to his empathy. You had water you could give the man, it wouldn’t really make a difference to both of you.

The man shifted his look between the both of you, giving Joel more attention. “Please.” He begged. “If you have anything… “ he stuttered. “I’ll take anything you can give me.”

Joel looked over at you before leaving your side and grabbing a tin of water from the car. He walked slowly, trying to evaluate the man’s facial expressions and actions. He stayed still most of the time, out of fear you thought. You looked over at Joel purposely slowing down his pace. After abruptly putting the gun down on the floor, you reached over to him, grabbing the water yourself. You wouldn’t deny anyone a single drop of water. Joel called out your name once you left his side. You ignored him and approached the man, extending your arm in his direction, still careful to not drop your guard down. You watched the man’s right hand approach the tin, but quickly passing over it, rapidly grabbing your wrist. Your arm came next. What happened next unraveled in a matter of seconds.

Joel shouted your name next to the car, quickly running to your aid. You called his name back. All of a sudden you heard gunshots coming from behind the trees. You saw Joel grab the gun from the floor and point it immediately to the man grabbing you from the back now.

“Shoot him, not fucking her!” The man shouted.

Two other men appeared from the dark, you imagined still not getting close enough for Joel to fully see their figure. You saw Joel aim the gun to one of the man behind you. You couldn’t see them, and you just felt the hands of the man grabbing you so you wouldn’t run away. You saw Joel fire one bullet, hoping he did some damage. He then moved the shotgun over your head, fixating his aim over your right shoulder.

“Let go of her.” Joel’s voice was deeper than you ever heard it.

“You already killed one of my men. I’ll forget that, I’ll give you all my munition, if you let me have her.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” You shouted in his arms, struggling to let loose.

“I have a gun pointing at your head.” The man spoke directly to Joel, ignoring you. “He won’t hesitate to kill you if you resist.”

“That makes two of us.” Joel didn’t move a muscle, shifting his gaze from you and the man behind the trees. “Let go of her.” He repeated louder.

The man’s hands were glued to your body. The look of disgust in Joel’s face made you stay still. “Not happening, man.” The man spit.

Joel shot once again at the trees. Another shot came back almost at the same time from the woods. You gasped as you heard it passing your side and missing Joel by a few feet. “I’m gonna blow your fucking brains off if you don’t get your filthy hands off her!”

“This can’t be your daughter, but she’s too young for you anyway.” You heard the man’s gutural laugh behind your head. “Last chance, or he kills you. After that we can do anything we want with her.” As soon as you saw Joel aim at the man in the back trees, you heard the man shout once again. “For fuck’s sake, shoot him!”

But Joel had him in his aim for longer than that. A bullet came sprinting on your direction, going over your head at full speed. Almost immediately you saw Joel throw the shotgun on the floor with a thud and fasten his pace in your direction. The man let go of you once he realized he was outnumbered and alone, beginning to turn away, but Joel grabbed him by the arm, not letting him go. You got away from the scene, but still couldn’t avert your gaze from it.

“Get inside the car.” Joel spoke as he put the man on the floor underneath him.

The look on Joel’s eyes was dark and almost animalistic. “Joel… just shoot him or something.”

You saw him shake his head to the sides, while always looking at the floor. “No, not this one.” The man underneath him struggled to keep a stead breath, beginning to cry and beg for his life. “Go to the car, please.” His voice became soft again.

You couldn’t even stand there one more minute seeing his expression of disgust mixed with sadness. You turned away and got to the backseat of the car, closing the doors, locking them. You didn’t want to look, but there was no way of just ignoring the fact that Joel was dragging this man out into the woods by his collar. He never once looked back until he disappeared into the darkness. But you kept hearing the man’s screams after, even if he was out of your sight. You put both of your hands on each side of your head, covering your ears. Tears came rolling down your cheeks. Joel hurting or killing someone was not something you haven’t imagined or seen before, but the idea of him doing it with his own bare hands was animalistic and cruel. Not that the man didn’t deserve it, but it felt too much for you to even imagine. A few minutes passed and the screams became to a stop. Not long after, you saw Joel emerge from the trees. His head was down, only looking up inside the car once, before he grabbed the tin of water to wash his bloody hands. He supported them on his hips for a second, always looking down.

You saw him approach the car, opening the door slowly. You saw his figure, dark and tall, blood on his jacket, and some on his shirt. He got inside the car next to you, closing the door behind him as he whispered your name before starting his speech. “Are you okay?” He paused as he analyzed you. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was low, his eyes soft. “I shouldn’t have stopped here. I should have kept driving all the way through the night.” A single tear falling from his eye. Your eyes widened at the sight of him. He turned his back to you for a few seconds after repeating the same words over and over, in a soft tone. “I can’t protect you.”

You grabbed his hand while he wasn’t looking at you. “That’s all you ever did.” His gaze immediately on you, taking in those six words. With your eyes fixed on his, both your hands flew to each side of his face, smearing that tear away from it. “I’m alright.”

His eyes moving from your eyes to your lips. You followed his lead, doing the same. That was enough for him, connecting his mouth to yours. It was the gentlest kiss you’ve ever received in your life, tasting the salty tear on his lips. With both your hands still touching, he grabbed yours placing it on his shoulder, while you adjusted yourself in your seat. Joel didn’t break the kiss, he would never. The silent ambience of the night, with only your mouths making their love known, sounds echoed inside the car, putting you in a trance for him. The desire you had of him only unraveling now with such force. You rapidly straddled him without much thought, his hands holding your waist automatically, even though your skins never touched one another before. His back supported by the seat, his head on the head-rester. Your body over his. When you two gathered for air you heard his voice in a whisper.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, Joel.” You closed the gap between the both of you, before taking his jacket off and throwing it to the floor of the car.

His body followed yours as you took your shirt off over your head. You were hungry for human touch. His touch. His eyes plastered on your figure before kissing your neck and chest softly. Your breast between his hands, as he kept sucking on your skin dearly. You tugged at his shirt so he would take it off, his pants following your request quickly. You did the same to yours, your underwear coming off at the same time. You looked down at the bulge in his boxers. Fuck, he was big. You were quick to take him out on your hand, adjusting him at your entrance. His breath was shaky, feeling your hand around his hard cock, ready to receive your warmth and wetness. The sounds you both made once he disappeared inside you were animalistic. He stretched you so good you thought you would burst.

“Fuck.” Joel began, his head thrown back at the sight of you starting to move on his length.

His hands carefully holding your bare back, crossing his arms to hold you closer to him. You question how his hands could kill a man, and the next minute be so gentle on your skin and flesh, how his caresses made your head go dizzy. The angle was perfect, his cock hitting the deepest spot inside you. You haven’t felt that in years. Your body moving up and down on him, throwing your head back as he whispered sweet nothings. “So fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.”

“You feel so good, Joel.” You replied, once you felt your walls tighten against his length.

His thrusts, his hands, his words, were all so very gentle.

“Faster.” You requested.

Your words intoxicating his mind. As he fasten his pace, the whimpers that escaped your mouth made his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I can’t-“ he interrupted you.

“I know, I know, baby.” He paused as he gathered himself. “Cum on me.”

His words were enough to take you through the edge. With your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your hands supported behind his neck, you felt the tight knot on your stomach release, and as you rode your high on his length, you felt his warm seed shoot up and spread itself inside you, helping with the lubrification on your last thrusts.

You opened your eyes and immediately saw Joel’s on you. Your body fell on top of his, the pressure of you over his body making him smile and chuckle to himself.

“Don’t ever leave me.” Joel’s voice was still deep with lust, but his eyes told you he meant it far more than that.

“Keep protecting me, and I’ll be fine.” You smiled.

[slashers-and-rats]

Do you think... You could do headcanons for the slashers X a mute/nonverbal reader? Like just how they'd react to that & how they'd adjust to alternate forms of communication and stuff like that (Which slashers are up to you, but if Brahms and the Sinclairs were there I'd start squealing and giggling fr)

rat chat: i will provide but i don’t like bo so I’m leaving him out he’s a BITCH

Slashers with a Non-Verbal GN!Reader

featured slashers: brahms heelshire, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair

Brahms Heelshire :

i think brahms would be a little perplexed at first, especially since you’d start out as the house nanny. one of the rules is to talk to the doll, but you find ways around it. you hum along to music when you feel up for it, and usually leave little letters near the doll. sometimes, during lesson time, you even throw in a little bit about sign language, and pretend to teach the doll new words.

when you first meet brahms outside of the walls, he’s quick to show off the things you taught him while he was watching you. he’s kept all your letters, tucking them away in his pockets so he can carry them around with him, and he poorly mimics the few signs you’ve been showing off. it’s a bit heart warming, despite the odd situation you’re in.

once you two have really settled in with each other, he gets into more of a groove with things. he finds he likes the silence. it’s not like you’re not around, you still amuse him in other ways. he likes that he gets to be the chatty one. he practices reading aloud with you, and you show him how to sign some simple sentences, and you continue writing him little letters that he collects. he even finds an old music box to stick them all inside. he keeps them very safe. they remind him of you.

i don’t really think it would effect him all that much. as long as you give him love and affection in your own ways, he’d be so happy. i think his favourite thing would be making you make other noises. y’know, not words. like he’ll sneak up on you and scare you, and hear you yelp, and he’ll snicker to himself. or when you two are alone, and you make a cute noise, he melts a bit. it’s the little things for him.

Vincent Sinclair :

in my head, vincent is selectively mute, so he’s pretty much immediately on board with you being non-verbal. there’s no questions, there’s no needing to get used to it, you two are just two quiet people. he finds it comforting, if anything, since he’s able to so easily relate to you.

you guys pass notes to each other like you’re exchanging secret messages. it’s especially amusing when you’re around the other brothers, and you’ll slide vincent a note, making the other brothers upset they don’t get to know what you guys are talking about. vincent always keeps these very private. communicating with you is a privilege, not a right, and if you choose to be selective about who you talk to, he is not going to let someone else change that.

you guys learn sign language together. bo never saw the use in teaching vincent, and his mum had tried but he stopped practicing when she had passed. so, he was very rusty, and you had similar experiences. you had tried to learn, but never found much use since the people around you didn’t know anyways. so, when you two met, it became a small hobby between the two of you. you explored the town, found a library with some books on asl, and pretty quickly you two were practicing in his little workshop whenever you had a chance.

i think a lot of your comfort with each other comes from the fact that you guys don’t need words to communicate. you can tell without needing to be told when either of you are upset or frustrated, and it’s easy to see when you’re happy. vincent has memorized all the little details of your expressions to know exactly how you’re feeling, even if you’re not open about it. it’s harder for you, since he wears the mask, but you’ve learned his body posture is a pretty big give away on how he’s feeling. you two just know each other really well.

Lester Sinclair :

lester is pretty used to the idea of people being non-verbal cuz of his brother, so it doesn’t take him as much time as others to get used to it, but there are still some bumps. i think, since he’s such a funny little dude, he finds your silence kinda hard to judge sometimes. he’ll tell a joke, or tell a silly story, and you’ll just crack a smile. he never truly knows what you’re thinking, since you never tell him, and so it takes him awhile to get used to being comfortable with just not always knowing.

i think he’d be someone who immediately does everything he can to be better about it tho. deep down, he really cares. he cares about his family, he cares about the town, he cares about you- he puts as much effort into those things as possible. so, he’ll put in the effort to learn ASL behind your back, and surprise you with it on a date or something.

he likes talking to you, and getting good at knowing what you’d say if you did speak. his favourite joke is to make up a conversation between you both and play both parts, and whenever he says something in your voice, he waits for you to nod or shake your head so he knows if he’s right in his assumption. he’s usually pretty accurate tho, since he watches you a lot.

he really does watch you A LOT. since you guys can’t have conversations about your interests, he just finds other ways to figure it out. while you’re reading, he’ll peek over your shoulder. he’s always a page behind tho, but he still gets an understanding of what you like. when you’re riding with him in his truck, he lets you pick the music, and notes down every song you repeat. when you guys are eating, he watches your face to see what you like and don’t like. he just likes learning about you, even if it isn’t as easy as learning about others.

[milksuu]

Do you have any random dad!phel headcanons you'd like to share about how he deals with twins? Because I'm still obsessed 🥲

hc: dad!phel and his twin boy parenting from mom!reader

tw: mention of death, angst, minor injuries

notes: rcv'd multiple req. for this one, so here you all go! between dad!phel and yandere!phel...I can't pick one atm. im obsessed with both. still working on some dad!phel comic pages. stay tuned for those. <3

dad!phel made a special request to be a stay-at-home father for the first few years to raise the twins. just until they were of elementary school age. working from home was a huge help, and none of the his band mates minded. and of course, neither did manager auntie alune. considering she wanted what was best for her brother and nephews.

dad!phel made sure to keep them on a consistent schedule as infants, doing everything from feedings to cuddle times. it took him multiple failed attempts to get them in sync, especially when they shared a crib. if one woke up, then sure enough to other did. wailing and crying. double the sleepless nights for him. he made the healthy-dad choice of switching from heart attack inducing energy drinks to zen-out green tea. but even that was becoming an addiction. at some point he did buy a seperate crib for each. and baby monitors helped help him anticipate when one was stirring, so he could intercept one before the cries woke the other.

dad!phel encouraged the twins individuality whenever he could. naturally, they gravitated to each other whatever the situation was. it was no different between him and alune. except he felt he relied too heavily on his sister most of the time, which made social life difficult for him to navigate through without her. to make sure this wouldn't happen to either of them, he never bought matching sets for clothing or toys. allowing them to decide how they preferred to express themselves. of course, he would never turn down a matching gift set from his band mates or alune. usually he saved those pairs for when they were being watched over by the gifting recipient. it saved him from a awkward situation, made the other person happy, and the twins apathetic. a small win.

dad!phel also encouraged them having different sets of skills and hobbies, to even friend groups. again, not easy when they constantly wanted to hold each others hands for dear life, especially in new situations. it wasn't unusual for one to cry when the other was taken to another activity in their primary school years. it always weighed heavily when the instructors mentioned these outbursts between them. thinking perhaps he wasn't being a good or fair father to them. it took many pep talks from alune and the school counselor that this was normal, and he was doing his best as a single father.

dad!phel was never the best at making lunches...or breakfast, or dinner, or anything culinary related. Everything was either undercooked, overcooked, over salted, or just not the right combination of ingredients. it was one of his sore spots as a stay-at-home dad. the twins stopped complaining when he all but lost it when trying to make a ham sandwich without too much mustard. the twins quickly learned to just say 'thanks dad this is great', feed it to the neighborhood stray or flowers growing outside, and sneak into the fridge later. but they always appreciated when their dad writes words of affirmation on their school lunches, like 'keep on shining my awesome stars', and 'love you to the moon and back'.

dad!phel makes sure the twins keep up with their sign language retention and development, making it a rule for them to always use it at home. believing it will help them bolster their prospects in the future. when they're being rather defiant teenagers, he will only respond to them if they sign to him while speaking. otherwise, he pretends he's deaf rather than mute , and just continues on with whatever he's doing. it doesn't take them long to change their tune, especially if their asking for the latest video game about to release.

dad!phel was and still is the master of all pranks. everyday is a potential battle field of trick mines and purposefully placed banana peels. he has house cameras installed for a reason. watching anytime the twins are hiding to blast him with a double-trouble water gun. little do they know, he has a water balloon launcher at the ready. the twins smarten up real quick, find the hidden cameras, then hack into the security system. uploading and rendering a static image of a 'peaceful' household. then it was dad!phel who had to smarten up real quick. especially when their prank on him almost blew up the neighborhood powerline generator. (he rather not go into details)

dad!phel doesn't have any pictures of mom!reader around the house. ever since her passing, it's been too difficult to have any kind of reminder. a pain that he can't seem to get over, no matter how many support group session he takes himself to along with the twins. but he is trying, for the day he can unbury a single photo he has of mom!reader from the depths of his closet. and buried deep in the recesses of his heart.

"Dad. It's not fair. It's like you just keep her all to yourself," one of the twins stated.

"Sure, you've told us about her, but you've never showed even one picture. So, why's that? Why won't you show her to us?" the other cut in, biting on his words. "Did you even love her?"

Dinner conversation fell to a static silence. It shocked him to his core. He had heard these words before. These whispers. At the funeral. Relatives. Family members. Friends. Conversing in front of him. Behind him. All around him.

[Look at him. He's not even crying.]

[Does he even feel anything? She died giving birth to his children for God's sake.]

[I feel bad for them. Even if they weren't planned. Imagine having to be raised by a father so emotionless as him. Does he even have a heart?]

[Did he even love her?]

His eyes were wide, staring at nothing but a distant memory. Lost to everything. His hands trembled. Reigning them to steady, he placed them on his barely emptied plate. Without a word, he lifted himself along with his plate, sauntering heavily to the sink. Washing, picking, scrubbing. Every spot. Every lie—they were all wrong. He felt everything. So vividly. So painfully. If he surrendered to even a fraction of it, the whole world would break into unmendable pieces. So he couldn't cry. Couldn't feel anything. He had to be strong for her. He had to be strong for them.

"Dad. Stop. You're going to—!" One of the twins rose in their seat, but it was too late. The plate shattered from the destructive pressure, slicing bits and pieces of his hands. He didn't feel a thing. Maybe they were right after all.

The twins rushed to their father's side. One worked on removing the splinters of ceramic digging into his palms, the other pressing wads of paper towels to his gashes and cuts. When the moment settled, the twins sniffed on their tears, hugging him at each side.

"We're sorry dad. Really sorry," one choked, burying their nose into his sleeve.

"We...We didn't mean..." the other hiccuped, dampening his other sleeve. "We just wish we met her. That's all."

In the vacant stare of his eyes, a wetness blurred his vision. For the first time. Since he gathered the two bassinets from the NICU staff. To the moment he stepped into a cold empty home with them. Afraid to even touch them, till they reached out and took hold of his fingers. The tears came pouring, and he felt they would never end. Drowning and suffocating him in such bitter sweet memories.

He gathered his sons in his arm, condensing himself in the comfort of their soft beds of hair. Allowing the tears to stain his face and drip in dollops from his quivering chin.

They had to know. They needed to know. They deserved to know. That he loved their mother more than anything in this world.

And with them, he felt her love every single day.

[sweetestgirlintown111]

henry winter x reader

authors note: I decided to write for Henry Winter as way to get him out of my system, and this is the byproduct. While reading this please keep in mind that it's my first time publishing my work and that English isn't my first language that said of course, feedback is always appreciated so if you have any notes feel free to point them out in the notes or in my asks box. about the story, this won't be following the exact plot or timeline of the book, it's an academic rivals to lovers trope, I have 5 chapters written already and I think it safe to say that it is more of a slow burn, somethings id like to point out is that this fic handles the themes of Catholicism directly and child sexual abuse within it in an indirect manner so if you are uncomfortable with these topics I'd advise you to refrain from reading, of course, content warnings will be present to individual chapters including these topics, also there will be swearing, and I haven't yet decided if there will be smut in this piece, also in this fic I wont be using (Y/N) or any names for my character I also try to refrain from physical descriptions although female pronouns and anatomy are used. lastly, if you think this piece isn't for you please feel free to reach out and send prompts for one-shots or if you would like scenarios or ideas to include in this series, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy!

prologue |

Henry, stoic, cold, luring Henry. like a fire luring in moths, we were all ready to do as he pleased, convinced that in some way he always knew better. Maybe he did, maybe that's why all seven of us were so complaint, but me -I was so beyond them in that aspect I was fascinated with Henry Winter I would've gone happily to my demise if he ordered me to if it meant that he would be pleased with me.

I first saw Henry at Julian's office, before lessons had started I was there to ask for a schedule since I hadn't got one -the process of signing in to his class was very hard in itself but Julian was an old friend of my mom which was the main reason I got accepted- he was sitting on a couch listening to something Julian was saying that I unknowingly interrupted. he seemed huge at first glance tall with broad shoulders and hair so dark in contrast to the paleness of his skin and the shine of his blue eyes framed with a pair of old-fashioned round thick glasses, he was beautiful that much could be said. but he was also uninterested his glance almost dismissive that look he gave me the same look he’d give me plenty of times after that- a look that made me feel tiny which in comparison to him I was, and so naturally I made him the center of my life at the time. it wasn't so estranged of me to pick the one thing that I couldn't have easily and dig my claws into it, after all, I loved a challenge except this time I wouldn't be able to decide who won if either.

Ancient Greek, this dead language, so esoteric, so elite that naturally I gravitated towards it. at ten its hard to stand out -especially when going to an elite boarding school in the middle of Sweden, everyone's daddy was crazy rich, all the kids had ponies, and all the girls went to the best ballet academies thus nothing materialistic could make you special, so developing an obsessive interest in ancient and dead languages was not only sure to make you stand out but also get you the praise of your teachers, all the while being hard enough that any competition would give up on their own. so it became my niche, my specialty- and by the time I finished high school, it was an easy choice to go to Hampden, seeking an exclusive course of studies with a class of six other students.

although I always strove to stand out academically, I was never as bright socially, usually feeling more fitted with my translations, and maybe in my younger teens, it saddened me, to watch my classmates playing and having so much fun together, and not being able to join- not because they wouldn't let me but because I couldn't let myself. but that envy quickly faded, when plying around turned into partying, sex, heartbreak, and filthy drugs. not that I didn't indulge in substances from time to time, but it was never the cheap stuff and never on school grounds. and so that's how my teens came and were spent, books during school and books -with a little bit of drugs- during whatever break that would send me home.

Back to Hampden, our first class Julian gave us the time to get to know each other and get familiar with one another, going in i'd figured that Henry was the guy I had met earlier- and he had a friend that came with him, Edmund everyone called him Bunny, very chatty which was a striking difference to henry. Two other students were twins a boy, Charles, quite handsome, and the female version, Camilla, they were both boyish and had the same mannerisms they also both had slight southern accents. And then there was Francis, redheaded, tall scrawny, and very stylish indeed and seemed very friendly and inviting and lastly, there was Richard a Californian, quiet and shy. meeting with them was easy enough that it didn't feel dreadful and I quite enjoyed their company, being a bunch of weirdos I felt welcomed in a way, the time was spent discussing literature, ancient scriptures, and civilizations. they all seemed to know enough about the Greeks, Henry, in particular, made it clear that he was above them all when it came to knowing the ancient culture, for the first time in my life I felt like I was on par with someone in knowledge and for the first time as well I didn't feel threatened.

classes with Julian were what any seasoned student would want, he was challenging and inspiring, but having Henry as a competitor wasn't easy, while I was excited about the competition he never held back and it felt like it wasn't just academics we were fighting over but rather something else, the praise of Julian mainly, and I wasn't going to hold back either. I couldn't, even if I wanted to, my whole life the only thing that inspired me to work harder and be smarter was the validation of my teachers, being that I went to boarding school and didn't have the strongest relationship with either of my parents, id turn to whichever adult that would spare me the attention and more often than not they were my teachers, so no I wasn't going to let him have the praise of Julian our only instructor, I wasn't going to make it easy for him.

at first, it started as banter in the middle of class -correcting each other's quotes, racing to answer Julian's questions faster- but later on in the semester as it was clear that we were academically equal, it would turn into pure unfiltered hate. And Henry Winter would make sure that I never forget any of my flaws, ever.

[pinktie]

ShinRan common complaints beyond the Conan secret debunked.

Ran uses her karate on Shinichi, he knows how to evade it because she taught him as a way to protect herself (like Kogorou teaching Eri Judo) and he grew up with her as she was learning - maybe I've seen too many Shounen anime where fighting/martial arts is a focus but this is a sign of how well he knows her and she him, she's not out to harm him but she doesn't need to hold back either. It's like how Shinichi's shoes/footballs break stuff but don't risk killing people.

Shinichi taking advantage of Ran, is always encouraged as she can set her own boundaries and never wants to come between him and a case even when he's too distracted by her/would rather not.

The phone calls only are circumstances plus needed separation between 'Shinichi x Ran' and 'Conan-kun & Ran-nee-chan' as he'd never ask her to love a little brother much younger than her as a boyfriend but Conan is mostly a fake persona brought on by necessity that he often breaks when Ran is involved. I somewhat like the possibility of Shinichi learning to see his long-time crush as a sisterly figure (found family for the win! different types of love but same amount and level of importance) but Gosho's writing isn't going in that direction and it's not so bad - Shinichi stays by Ran's side whatever way he can because she's his anchor in his dark world of murderers. Long-distance relationships of emails/calls and gifts are great too, to each their own, if it works for them it works.

Ran does in fact listen to Shinichi's interests, and him to hers as evidenced by their knowledge but they've presumably listened to each other ramble hundreds of times and don't always like the same things/have the same investment in doing something. They'll enjoy the other's reaction but feel no need to experience it together.

Shinichi does rely on Ran beyond even being a child, whenever it's a fight he watches her win knowing full well that's the outcome and trusts her to say the right thing at the right time in the right way during cases (often as Sleeping Kogorou but it's still him) and he knows he can ask her for a lot as she's very willing to give and he's painfully aware of that so avoids it whenever he believes he can afford to.

I feel like people forget that beyond Shinichi being a bit mean as a love language (see Sonoko, The Detective Boys, Professor Agasa and his football team) which is where the regularly used 'barou' comes from, he regularly notes Ran's knowledge and reasoning skills saying she'd make a good detective; He is also a kuudere and always tries to play it cool when Ran's involved. Meanwhile the usually confident Ran is a dandere and is very shy when it comes to advancing their relationship. They are also the canonical bad luck x good luck pair (look at Ran's extreme lottery wins versus Kaito's near disaster heists he had to use all his skills to barely succeed and tell me I'm wrong).

I can see what you mean.

Their relationship is so beautiful.

[casuallyawkardd]

Hi there, could you write some headcanons for miguel and a deaf reader? It can be sfw or nsfw or both, whatever you want. Thank you! I love reading your stuff 🖤

Thank you for reading 🥰 I'm glad you enjoy my content. Now...to SFW or NSFW hehe I'm so clever...fuck it let's do both.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Deaf!Reader

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! But you can read the SFW~ sex, bit of rough sex, some fluff, lowkey bottom!miguel, kinda sorta choking?

SFW

It would start with notes. It's already hard enough finding people who know sign language, even more so when said people are part of a Spider Society. All of which coming from different universes with their own different forms of sign language. So you stick to writing/typing what you want to say and most of the other spiders just write back or have you lip read.

This is a short lived system with Miguel. He's usually busy when you try to talk to him and the time it takes to read and respond is too much time away from his work. At least in his opinion. He eventually just programs Lyla to be a translator, even gives you access to her to use when you need, whether it be talking to him, the other spiders or during meetings.

Once the two of you get to know each other better, he takes the time to learn sign language. He's a smart cookie, so it comes pretty easy to him. He'll even pick up SSL so he can share his mother tongue with you. The more attached he gets to you also equivalates with how much attention he gives.

Instead of using Lyla as a translator so he can focus on his work, now all you have to do is tap him on the shoulder and his eyes are fixated on you. It's a little intimidating at first, his gaze intense as he watches you sign, but you get used to it the longer you're around him. He hates when people try to talk to him while you are; in his mind they're talking over you. So he's snapped at a few people/completely ignored them.

"¡Cállate! Y/N is talking."

"Huh? I was listening to Y/N."

If you are interested in the idea, he'll even go out of his way to make hearing aids. I picture his universe is almost utopic in that the cost for medicine/prosthetics is either really cheap or just plain free. That being said, he'd probably still just make you a pair of hearing aids on his own, more sentimental that way. However, if you turn down the offer he's fine with that too. Your body, your choice right?

NSFW

Love, love, loves having your hands on his throat. He wants you to feel the vibration when he moans for you. To feel the rumble in his chest when he growls in satisfaction. His favorite position is you on top of him, hands on his chest or wrapped around his neck while you bounce on his cock.

Miguel likes to be able to see your face, wanting the visual of just how good he's making you feel. Your moans and whimpers aren't enough, he wants to see your eyes roll back in your head. The little bit of drool on your chin when he fucks you thoughtless. His hand tangled in your hair, giving a slight tug to get your attention. When he has it, he makes you read his lips while he tells you just how good you are for him.

"You still with me, cariño? Or are you too cock drunk already?"

The feeling is mutual. You also enjoy watching him when you have sex. How his brows knit together and his jaw goes slack when he enters you; like he's about to cum then and there. How when you wiggle your hips just right while you're riding he goes a little cross eyed and his grip on your waist is just a bit tighter.

"Ay, dios mio, vas a ser la muerte de mi." Oh, my god, you are going to be the death of me.

The two of you develop your own form of communication in the bedroom. Miguel trailing light kisses along your neck and back as praise, large hands squeezing the parts of you he loves most. You tapping on his thigh to tell him to go faster, biting his flesh to encourage him to be rougher. It's not an exact science, but you each know what the other is trying to communicate and that's what matters.

In the afterglow, he likes to look at you. Sometimes you're already asleep, face half buried in a pillow and lightly snoring. He'll comb his fingers through your hair as he admires the view, pulling you against him and humming contently, making you smile in your sleep as the sound reverberates against your back. Other times Miguel just lays there and watches you talk; half paying attention, half just admiring your naked form. Eventually, he'll gently take your hands in his and kiss the knuckles, which can mean two things. One being that he's ready to go to sleep, the other being his way of saying he's ready for round two.

Tags:

@khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219 @edgycatx @oharaludes @graysonshaven @qiaipia @3zae-zae3 @melovetitties @jebsoxnoshansk @thedevax @erissco @Its_carlerrr

[hisaribi]

anyway, beta Dick angst, because I can and honestly betas feels like really underrepresented in omegaverse, so gonna make my fav it

and because I have no idea how to write it without info-dumping in the fic itself, I'm gonna write it as a post on tumblr dot com

mostly ramblings, but paragraphs surrounded by 🦇 symbol we have dc characters related thingie

so, first, start with biology. let's start with something nice-ish, such as scents. so alpha/omega kids have a keen sense of smell from the birth, they scent emotions rather than note some other tells and whathaveyou, and later going into adulthood they have this mate thing, that for a long time was considered once and for all the time, but apparently is just the sign of which alpha or omega can become the best person to have kids with. betas, on the other hand, have no such thing, they don't get any specific smell to themselves, at least not in the smells like cinnamon and rain, human scent is still here but not very obvious. children before presenting also have the similar scent, which leads to some ugly stereotypes

🦇

and also means you can't have the same communication with betas like alphas and omegas can. It took Bruce hilariously long time, almost a year, to catch up to the fact, that his new kid is beta. They are somewhat rare, about 10% of the overall population, even though they can be born to any set of parents, so Bruce, who is an alpha, with alpha Alfred (Alphred) was used to get this sourt of cues, he was used to the societies that were filled with scents and just knowing how some people feel (at least when you know this person and you know what each of their emotions scents like) because of that no need for words

he learned at circus from lady-beta who was like a fortuneteller but actually was way too good about reading people and showed him tricks and tips so he could navigate the world he had no idea about better, and she was the one to teach him because his parents were alpha and omega

apparently the first Robin needed words, pointers and while he masked well, with reading body language, the tone of voice, some other tells, he could go through what other person feels, but it made a rocky begining. and well, while on the streets they used scents suppressants anyway, so nobody would know what they smell like and have an off-chance to recognize them

but we're coming closer to a different world-building piece for it, so let's move on from batclan to some more biology

I'm not going into greasy details, but basically the difference is that female betas have periods and not heats, male ejaculate and don't have ruts, they're basically what we call humans, but with a twist of male ones could have children with both omegas (male and female presenting) and f betas, and female can get pregnant from both alphas and m betas. also betas are the only being on earth that can have children with aliens, which is funny somewhat

🦇

can you imagine how pissed Lex was when he learned he couldn't have a kid with Superman because of that (dun worry, Kon still exists, but also Lois is beta, Clark is a weird one in this, because I cryptonians didn't have any betas, just omegas and alphas, and still, betas are the only one who could get children with them, looking at Dick wink-wink)

that sort of covers biology angle, but wait, there's more

a lot of betas because of how the world is pumping up alphaomega things in literature, movies, all the love advises and all that meant for such more or less usual couples, and it's always about scents and heats and ruts so a lot of them consider themselves either asexual or aromantic, but they come to it realization after their pan-phase (three-phase? like you can't really be bisexual, though maybe it's actually means like you're interested in people of the same gender, but also it brings a whole male/female presenting and welp that's too much, not thinking about it)

🦇

so for the really long time Dick sort of thought he just swinged all the ways, he had things with (alpha) Roy, (omega) Wally, heck, the whole fab five was at least having handjobs with each other (Donna feels like aplha but you can play really well into the feminine part with her being omega, Garth idk, he feels like omega especially in that Dan Mora Superman/Batman world's finest, but honestly, atlanteans are the whole other can of worms, because of my knowledge of young justice cartoon canon and Kaldur being my prime character to see atlanteans through, and also Momoa Aquaman but uh well he's still more of a Duncan Idaho sue me)

and honestly, he sort of did, but he was pressed by the fact that he couldn't even begin to feel the same as they all did, and well, everybody moved on from him, Garth went back to his fish, Roy got himself Jade (also beta) and Lian, Wally is somewhere on the way to get his kids, Donna is happily married, and Dick's just, welp, not fit for that, can we all be friends maybe with benefits

while he also had at least Mar'i with Kory, but they both are sort of off-planet and their kind isn't like humans they like can choose when to get children and from whome, so for Kory it was an actual choice (not like she could've gotten a child from most of her partners because of well betas still being the only ones to get kids with aliens but hey)

and here comes somewhat supernatural angle. well, more like a teen wolf angle

so packs are considered an outdated concept, just like mates are, but still, you can get to be the pack, you can feel the pack bond. this is really a connection that allows to pass emotions between families, also orders, feels, and all that, nothing concrete, you can't pass words or even images

guess who can't be included into the pack.

yep, betas

🦇

once again we have Bruce having no idea how to deal with the kid who can't pack-bond. Bruce who remembers his family's pack bond and had Alfred for the other part. And suddenly a kid who doesn't get soothing, who acts out, and honestly, it's just awkward how much time Bruce had to spend to understand Dick was beta well also mostly because he thought that Dick didn't accept the bond because he was still grieving, hey, Bruce did too, so he let it somewhat go, even though a kid without a pack is a recipe for disaster, well, not beta kid.

So the whole batclan who can have silent conversations, who are sort of on the similar wavelength, and Dick who also sort of holds them together is exempt from such a link, he always acts like it's not a big deal, but oh well.

Also Titans at first sort of formed their own pack, it was the first time they had someone out of family to bond with, and everyone were so confused about Dick not being able to feel the same thing, Roy probably said something rude and he and Dick had a fight over it (we don't tell how Roy definitely has a thing for betas, don't look at Jade, wink-wink). And yet he wasn't just a pack, he was its leader, the one who they subconsciously wanted approval of, the one they put their faith in. Which is an ongoing theme for all and every Dicks, but he can only logically understand what it all means to them, not really feel it

So let's go back to Batman and Robin times, Batman had to learn to work together not just with a partner but with a kid who is challenged — and he did use this language at first which pissed Dick off, but well, there was an argument that betas are somehow disabled — and so he's much more relying on a means of communication Dick would understand, which was a learning curve. But also later when he had Tim in the begining and when Steph was there and with a Batgirl, he could work with them more effectively. And after the justice league formed, well, let's just say he was the one who could communicate with them and coordinate them without an actual need for a pack bond

Dick on the other hand learned to see physical cues for pack bond signals, so the ones coming later into the pack weren't even aware he wasn't in it

So ye, just beta Dick for the angst. Pls come and talk to me about that

[solitaireships]

Love Letters

I've had this fic on the back burner for a little bit, but I got it finished now! It spawned out of the idea of Curly leaving little notes for Lyra that he loves her, so I thought I'd turn that into something a little more

Rating: Gen

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1202 words

Divider by saradika

Content warning: mentions of medical stuff

As soon as Lyra leaves the kitchen, she gets hit with a rolled up paper ball. It startles her out of her thoughts, falling to the floor before she manages to get her mind to process she should pick it up. 

Life has been different in the months since Curly was able to come home. If nothing else, she’s glad that he’s out of the hospital. It took time for him to get the help he needed, but he was able to get artificial skin grafts, and they were able to do enough to make sure he’s not constantly in pain. Still there have been growing pains though as they’ve had to figure out how to make navigating the house easier for him in a wheelchair and how to plan their days around some of the extra help he needs at home. 

At least Curly’s getting used to his new prosthetics. He’s still wobbly when he walks, but using a cane has helped to steady him. He always complains about how it takes up his hand, something far easier for him to do now that he’s been getting better with those prosthetics as well. Neither of them are sure if he’ll talk again, so they’ve started taking sign language lessons together. He’s still working on having the finer control of his prosthetics needed for that though, instead usually writing what he wants to say. His handwriting is different than it used to be, sloppy and unsteady, but Lyra’s glad either way that they’ve found a new way to talk to each other. 

In a way it’s nice. Lyra’s always liked reading and writing— her whole job is based around it. It’s nice that something she loves can now be helpful for someone she loves. 

Another good thing about Curly’s prosthetics is it’s clear from his throwing arm that physical therapy is helping him. He has good aim when he throws messages at Lyra to get her attention. 

She picks up his most recent message, uncrumpling the paper as she makes her way over to where he’s set up in the living room. He took off his prosthetic legs, presumably in an attempt to get comfortable, and rested them against the side of the couch. His eye follows Lyra as she makes her way over to sit next to him, half looking as if he’s trying to read the note along with her. 

“‘We should get dinner’?” she repeats. “Okay, what are you feeling up to tonight?”

Lyra knows meat’s not an option. Curly doesn’t want to talk about why, but he’s quit eating meat since getting back to solid foods. He’s told her a lot about what happened on the ship— of the ways he failed his crew, of the ways he wishes that he could have changed things, of how horrible every moment was for him after the crash. But he never wants to talk about the final moments he had before being put in the cryo pod, and that’s something Lyra decided she’ll never push him on. He’s been through enough as is, there’s no point in trying to make him relive something he clearly doesn’t want to think about. All that matters is he’s able to actually eat again, she knows he hated the feeding tube he had to use for a while. 

We should go out, Curly writes. He flips the page, then writes on the next, Your choice where. 

“We don’t need to. We’ve got plenty of stuff here, I could make that pasta with the mozzarella you like. Or if you want to order from somewhere, we can just get it delivered,” Lyra says.

She’s surprised that he would suggest going out in the first place. Curly hasn’t liked going out much lately. It’s hard to miss the looks people give him in passing, the mix of pity and disgust at how he looks. Lyra hates seeing how people treat him now that he’s disabled, and she knows that he hates being treated differently for it. She hopes he’s not just suggesting going out because he knows she misses when they used to go out on dates more often. She’s content enough staying home as long as it means that he’s comfortable. 

Curly shakes his head. Then he writes another note. We’ll go out. You pick where. 

“Okay, I—” Lyra pauses. She’s not really sure what she wants, and if this is what Curly would want too. “Are you in the mood for something?”

He shakes his head again. 

You pick. It’s my treat.

“Alright then. Did, uh, did anything bring this idea on?”

Before the crash I told you I would- Curly pauses, letting Lyra read before flipping the page- take you out to dinner when I got back. 

Thinking about the day Curly left feels like decades ago. There’s a bittersweet feeling to it, with hindsight making it one of their last moments together before their lives changed. But Lyra remembers what Curly’s talking about— he had told her he would take her out to a nice dinner when he got back, and that he would make up for half a year’s worth of kisses. Both those gestures had fallen by the wayside in the months since he’s gotten back. There have been other priorities, and they wouldn’t have even been able to do either of those until recently. 

Maybe him bringing this up is a sign that they’re starting to get back to a sense of normalcy. Lyra knows that healing isn’t linear, but maybe this means that things are getting better. It’s not the same as it used to be, but they’ve been getting into a new routine. Things are becoming regular again, and she hopes that they’ll stay that way.

“Okay. How about that Chinese place over on Kingston? I’m in the mood for dumplings,” Lyra suggests. That and she knows they have plenty of vegetarian options that should work well for Curly. 

Sounds good. And remember I’m paying, he writes. 

“Thank you.”

I love you, Curly writes. He tears out the page from the notebook, offering it to Lyra. It’s practically a routine at this point— he gives her every note he writes saying he loves her, telling her it’s because he wants to make sure she always knows it. There’s a stack of love letters slowly building up on her work desk, and she keeps one in the pocket of her jacket, in her purses, in her nightstand. Everywhere she goes, she always carries a bit of Curly’s love with her. 

“I love you too,” Lyra says. She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Let me get my keys. Do you want to walk or use your chair?”

Chair. Get my blue beanie?

“Sure thing,” she replies as she stands up. She folds up the note Curly gave her, tucking it into the pocket of her pants. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s nice to think that the two of them are getting to go out to dinner together. Lyra can’t remember the last time they did. Hopefully this will be the first of many nights out together, and hopefully his love notes to her will never stop. 

[tubbypeddle]

Hi, could I get a jjba male romantic matchup from you? Part 1~7 since I haven't finished 8 yet.

I am an ENTJ, Leo. I consider myself as intelligent and rational, so I'm a pretty serious person for most of the time, but around people who are very close to me I'm way more relaxed and fun. Even though I'm an extrovert, I do prefer spending time alone or partner and the few close friends I have rather than socializing with a big group of people. Though I am pretty confident and stylish so I won't be shy about presenting myself when meeting new people.

As for my partner, I tend to be attracted to people who are more similar to me. So I would love someone who is also levelheaded and mature, who I can have deep conversation with (yes I believe smart is the new sexy hahaha). I admit I could be a bit bossy and hot tempered at times, so I'd need someone who knows how to communicate and could bring my calmer side back. My love language is quality time, I would love to spend time with my partner either engaging in activities we both have passion for, having discussions over something we're both find interesting (maybe a book we're both reading), or it could just be us chilling watching shows or gaming together. It'd also be great if they're fun in private so we could have inside jokes and just relax within each others presence. When It comes to people I care about deeply, I would be a great listener and could give useful advice, and is willing to help them feel better in whichever way I can. I could definitely fall for someone who would do the same.

So, appearances:

-166 (5'5) at height

-Pretty average bodytype, leaning towards the skinnier side

-Long wavy black hair with curtain bangs, black eyes

-I usually dress in classic style while also playing around with colors

That'd be all! Thank you for taking this request!

.

so. as I was finishing up the last bits of this. my laptop restarted AGAIN. I swear, Tumblr hates me

ANYWAY. ugh

(author's note: credits to gif owners, of course <3 also please, I know everyone is sending me in asks for matchups, but please DM me for more information on them. I have questions that I'd like to ask to make this easier for me to write for you 🥺)

It's a lovely day in Morioh when you meet him.

Koichi Hirose

Hear me out now.

Out of everyone in Morioh, Koichi's probably the one you'll find the most meaningful conversations with, other than one other person I can think of.

Out of everyone in Morioh, he's probably the most emotionally stable. Which is. Saying a lot. Because there are a lot of people in Morioh.

He's had the most stable childhood environment, so he's the most emotionally competent.

He enjoys talking about his feelings with you. Talking about something deep and meaningful, anything you want to talk about, Koichi is your best bet.

Not that I'm giving you someone you'd have to settle for. He's actually quite the amazing boyfriend.

He's attentive, and kind, and he takes the initiative to take you out on some wonderful dates.

He keeps his friend circle small, despite knowing half of Morioh. His closest friends consist of Josuke, Okuyasu, and you. Which tracks, with you liking to keep your friend circle small.

He personally doesn't mind that you have a tendency to get a little bossy.

See, he's a Pisces; a water sign. And you mentioned that you're a Leo. A fire sign. Now I know some people say they're not super compatible, but I don't care about that.

All I'm seeing here is that you're a fire that he's able to put out when he needs to.

He can calm you down when you might get a bit too bossy. He personally doesn't mind when you boss him around. (as i've said before) But he knows other people can be put off by it. So he's sure to stop you when he feels people might get too irritated.

He also enjoys when you two have time alone. He may not be as video game crazy like Okuyasu and Josuke, but he does like playing games like that. Especially with you.

Playing games alone like this leads to many inside jokes between the two of you. Jokes that not even I am privy to in this separate world, so enjoy those jokes between just the two of you.

He also loves the way you look, admittedly. Koichi isn't so shallow as to prefer the way you look over anything else about you, but he does appreciate that he has such a pretty girlfriend. And with him being so short, he's happy that you're not too much taller than him.

It would put an awkward distance between the two of you.

-_-_-_-

But Koichi isn't the only one you have the option of having in Morioh.

Okuyasu Nijimura

is also a very viable option.

He is a teenage boy, so admittedly, it's your looks that draw him in to you initially. He thinks you're real pretty. He doesn't think he has a chance with you at all, but he tries anyway. Just to get it out of the way.

If you say no, at least he tried. If you say yes, he has a girlfriend way out of his league.

He may not "seem the type" for mature conversations, but he really is. He thinks he's stupid, and he may not be the smartest in school, or impulsive, but he's not stupid.

He likes these deep conversations. He likes talking about mature topics, and he likes hearing your opinion on things.

And if you're looking for advice or insight on something from him, he offers some of the most eye opening words. He looks at problems in an angle that you could've never imagined.

He offers words of advice that are so simple that they're complex. It's amazing having these conversations with him.

He's a very kind boyfriend, too. Very observant.

He likes seeing you, in everything that you are. He stares way too often, and he's surprised he doesn't get caught staring at you, even before the two of you are dating.

So he notices. When you show interest in things, he gets you tiny trinkets or gifts related to them. He gets you sketchbooks, and writing journals, and pretty pens and pencils. Video game figurines, or new games you expressed interest in.

He also loves quality time with you. Any moment that he can spend alone with you is a moment well spent. He also just can't get enough of you. Similar to Koichi, he has to have his hands on you whenever he can.

He likes playing video games with you, he likes it when you read whatever you're reading aloud to him (he's not big on reading himself, but he loves listening to your voice). Anything you're doing, he wants to do it with you.

He loves your private jokes, shared only with him. He's the only one who will ever get to see you like this. I mean. Hopefully. He wants to be the only one you'll ever have these kinds of jokes with.

You two will meet eyes across the room after someone mentions your inside jokes privately, and he'll try not to laugh. Or he'll nudge you when someone says something related to your special jokes.

Special moments like these mean a lot to him.

Honorable mentions!

Hot Pants

She's oddly attached to you as soon as the race starts. She likes your rather calm nature and deems you hers. It's just a shame Diego also seems to like you.

Noriaki Kakyoin

He adores debating with you. He loves sharing opinions, or even not having the same opinion as you. He loves to hear what you have to say anyway. It's a nice break from Polnareff and Mr. Joestar, who are more immature than he would've thought for men their age. Or Jotaro and his one word sentences.

god, I am so sorry this took so long. I've had way too many problems with this one.

[treepan0]

some random hcs for the characters I like writing for because why not? not all of them are here, this is just four characters I had some thoughts on.

note: I'm using a fully romanized version of the spelling of Baby's name (tone indicator removed to clarify) so it's less weird, also there's a lot of rare pairs and I am unapologetic about that.

Cooler:

let's be real here there is a reason why he and Bebi hardly show romantic affection in Chaos Magic, and it's not a discomfort actually. In reality it's because this man gives me the vibes it would be slow work for him to get to that point, he grew up with a family that was actively trying to kill each other, and is written as a stoic character, he's going to take longer than Vegeta to get comfortable with that.

I don't know why, but this man gives me demisexual energy and I cannot unsee it. (don't ask where this came from, I have no clue.)

please for the love of kami someone take this man away from his desk, he desperately needs a break thank you.

completely unaware people find him attractive most of the time, too distracted by work.

learned to control the movements of his tail, so Frieza and Cold couldn't read him like an open book.

Bebi:

I have mentioned this twice, but I like combining his sub & dub portrayals, errors and all.

speaking of errors from the sub he says "Big Bang Attack" while using final flash, on purpose because he knows it annoys and confuses people.

is he bi? is he pan? is he Omni? I don't see him caring much actually. I feel like he doesn't care as much due to his ability to reproduce asexually, while he still feels the needs and urges of the body he possesses (thus the way he is, pretty much I hc it's from vegeta who I see as bi, unless it's an au, I just leave that fact intentionally vague), he's more reliant on romantic attraction if he wants anything outside of that. I see him as panromantic to clarify

if I have an excuse to give him a tail I will, GT robbed me of it so I will do it myself. it's also fun to make him emote with it in a more subtle manner, like I do for some other characters. (Cooler, Janemba and Broly to name a few, I would say Bebi & Janemba are the most open of the four though, since Broly's is hidden)

I think he should have Janemba, android 13 and Hatchiyack as a friend group, as a treat, I think they could all get along with their own individual dynamics and everything.

Bebi & 13 can roast the ever loving crap out of people, Janemba & Bebi can be relaxation buddies who talk about general stuff, and Bebi & Hatchiyack I see as almost like a sibling relationship.

Janemba:

I usually go with the buu's fury background; where he was an organised crime kingpin, before he got caught up in the soul scrubber, outside of that I take from various places. I like to hc he ended up in there, because Beerus sealed him inside, just like elder kai and the z sword.

out of boredom one day I did give him an adoptive mother, since he had no pre-existing canon family. Her name is Koall, she's a succubus who's tired out of her mind and still grieving her loss, despite the passage of time being massive for humans.

just like Bebi I also hc this man gets around at times, and most of it is because of his design. (dear goodness super Janemba's design.....)

it's a common hc that he likes jelly beans, since the spirit shields resemble jelly beans. I actually enjoy this common non serious head canon, I think it's actually cute for him to do that.

kind of claustrophobic, especially with dark environments. however he can subdue it with some sort of activity, so it's not terribly intensive. he keeps a portable console where ever he stays, mostly so he can build blanket forts for Broly.

I straight up said "I don't see why he and kid Buu can't learn sign language, especially since dragon ball has a universal language." so they either use their native tongue, or use sign language. most of the time however they're guilty of saying stuff behind peoples backs in said native language, Cell & Koall are the only ones able to catch them.

has definitely tried to teach some poor unsuspecting soul, to swear in his native language because he thinks it's funny. think of someone teaching a baby swears, it's pretty much the same effect for him considering his age.

complete opposite of how I see Cooler with affection, he's just a tease. this man will smooch Broly in public an the only one who can stop him, is Broly himself and no one else.

DBZ Broly:

doesn't like his neck being touched in general, Janemba completely respects this and has adjusted to such.

when he's in base for an extended period of time by choice for the first time since he was a kid, he ended up being gifted a green rabbit plush from a friend, her name is Mint and she gives him comfort.

I chose a rabbit because I felt like he could empathise with them in general, he grew up in an environment where he had to ensure his own survival, just like rabbits have to since they're at the bottom of the food chain. (nothing to do with the symbolism connected with them)

he won't openly admit it, but he likes head scratches and pats. like almost anyone could touch his head for whatever reason, and he will expect either scratches or pats.

that red fabric around his waist is the only thing keeping people from seeing everything he feels, since he never learned to clasp it like most, nor did he learn to control the movements like I hc Cooler did.

finds small spaces comforting, since the pod trips would be what little time he had away from his father, outside of being dismissed or after Paragus' death.

I feel like after a long extended period of remaining in base, he develops likes and dislikes after time here's just a few I thought of: he likes rock and metal music, he dislikes the taste of coffee, he likes relaxing scents (i.e lavender and chamomile), he dislikes white chocolate. I have my reasonings for both of those likes.

most of the time he'll ask Janemba if he wants certain affections, he's too shy and ashamed to ask anything nsfw though. not that it hasn't stopped Janemba from coaxing him into the baby steps past that, so poor man doesn't make himself suffer in silence.

it's actually been a team effort to help him get to this point, with all sorts of people teaching him proper life skills, not that he's learned to calm.

[riahlynn101]

Just wanted to say how much i appreciate your art and works. You write really, really well, and I’m no expert on that, but yes I can surely say this even as an amateur. You’re able to characterize the ones you write just in point, it’s as if you know them in real life, as if they were your friends or something. Please, keep doing what you do, I’m pretty sure there are a plenty of other people that enjoy your writing as much as I do. It’s so rewarding when I go to bed after a hard day and have one of your one-shots to read, it’s like I’m in another reality. Sorry if that sounds weird, I’m afraid I might sound a little crazy but I really like to encourage people, especially when it’s art related. Your art does touch people! And forgive me for any grammar mistakes, as English isn’t my first language

By the way, if that’s possible and if you would want to, would you ever do an schmelly one-shot about an “only one bed” prompt? It’s my favorite, I’d really like to see how they’d act. I know you don’t write smut, and I don’t want it either, so as long as you’re comfortable writing it, I’d really appreciate it 🥹

(AWWW <33 THANK YOU :D!! I really do appreciate that. I know I say it in a lot of my author’s notes, but I am really, truly grateful for all your guys’ support!!)

Sometimes I worry that my writing is trash. The plot makes no sense, or there are too many grammar mistakes, or the characters are…well….not in character. So, hearing that you like my writing makes me super happy :))

And it’s super kind of you to support/lift up artists and writers. There are too many people in this world that like to tear others down, so kudos to you for continuing to be kind and supportive <33

(And just as a little extra note: I think your English might be better than mine, and I say that as a native English-speaker. I mean that positively :D!! And I 100% guarantee that you write/speak English better than I could write/speak in your language, so take pride in that :))!!)

As for your request……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Word count: 1,417

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping, implied childhood trauma - but both of those things aren't the focal point of the story.

Summary: What do you get when you add a snowstorm, a (nearly) booked out hotel, and Mike and Vanessa needing a room?

Answer - a hotel room with only one bed!

--

Snow as far as the eye can see. It comes down in clusters and catches on the wind, blanketing the ground in white. This isn’t abnormal for this time of year, and usually Mike and his sister waited for the first snowstorm with great anticipation. Her because it means Christmas is right around the corner. And Mike because it reminds him of Christmas’ past. 

This year, however, he’s stuck driving in it. A last-minute trip a few hours away and a surprise blizzard don’t really mix. Maybe if he would have checked the weather channel one more time this could have been avoided.

“We should stop for tonight,” Vanessa says, always the voice of reason (for the most part). “I think I saw a sign for a hotel just up the road.”

Mike squints his eyes, leaning forward. He’s going ten under the speed limit, and that’s the only reason his pile-of-junk car hasn’t slid into the ditch. “Okay, I think I see it.”

Somehow, they make it in one piece into the motel’s tiny parking lot. It’s crowded, and it takes him a solid five minutes to find a spot. Apparently they aren’t the first people to need a room for the night. 

“Do you think they have any rooms available?” Mike asks, gripping the steering wheel. The thought of bearing the cold is already making him chilly. 

Always optimistic, Vanessa smiles. “I’m positive they can squeeze us in somewhere.”

-x-x-x-

“You two are in luck,” the receptionist-the stereotypical midwestern soccer mom-says, looking at her computer screen, “we have one room left.”

Both of them sigh in relief. The idea of trekking back out into the cold was daunting,  and the idea of finding a different hotel is downright scary. 

“We’ll take it,” Vanessa pipes up. 

“Okey-dokey then. I just need you to sign here and date there.” 

As Vanessa signs the logbook, the receptionist passes over a key for the room. “Are you two married?” She asks, conversationally. Though, Mike knows growing up around these types, that she’s just being nosy. 

Vanessa shakes her head. “Oh, uh…no. Just friends.” 

The woman laughs. “That’s what they all say.”

Face turning red, Vanessa scurries away from the desk, keys clutched in her hand. Mike follows behind her, not trusting himself to not glare at the woman. 

They step into the elevator. “You okay?” He asks. 

Vanessa’s face is still red, but she seems otherwise calm. But he wouldn’t be a good friend if he didn’t at least try. She clears her throat, shrugging her shoulders. 

“I’m fine.”

The elevator doors open.

“So, what’s our room number?” 

Vanessa holds the key up. “Uh….says 204. And judging by the positioning of the light, the direction of the wind, and my knowledge of the polar vortex it’s down the hallway to the right.”

He stands there, dumbstruck. “Wow, you actually know our room number from all that?”

She stares at him for a solid minute, not saying anything. “Yep. I definitely didn’t listen to the lady downstairs, and didn’t read the sign right in front of our faces.”

Mike turns slightly, and sure enough there’s a sign directing people to their rooms on the wall. 200-220 to the right and 221-241 to the left.

“Huh,” he says. “Well, I never said I had good reading comprehension skills.”

Vanessa smiles at that, but quickly turns away. “C’mon, I’m really tired.”

Thankfully, the rest of the trip to their room is uneventful. The hotel is eerily quiet, which is weird given that it’s full tonight. But with their luck, the minute they try to get some sleep, everyone and their mother will be causing a ruckus. 

“This is it,” Vanessa says, indicating to a number plate on one of the doors. 

Mike sighs. “Thank god. It’s been a long day.”

The room is pleasantly warm and smells of mothballs. It’s kind of small, not that they were expecting much. A bathroom that lacks a shower or bath, a closet that’s full of cleaning supplies, and a TV stand that lacks an actual television. 

But the thing that gives them pause is none of those things. Instead, it’s the bed in the center of the room. The single bed. 

Single as in only one. 

They stand there in complete silence. Standing and staring. And then, staring some more. 

“Well…” Mike starts, “I can…take the floor.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “No, the floor’s probably filthy. I’ll take the chair over there, and you take the bed.”

He scoffs. “I’m sure I’ve slept in worse places. Besides, you paid for this room. So, you get to sleep in the bed.”

“But….you drove us all the way to Utah and back, so really I owe you.”

They face each other.

“But the reason we went to Utah was for me, so really I owe you.” Mike hates the idea of sleeping in the chair or the floor for that matter, his back has enough problems without adding to them. But he also has the advantage of being imbued with an unholy amount of stubbornness. 

Unfortunately, his opponent is Vanessa. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping in the bed,” she says, throwing her hands up. “So, if you don’t, then I guess it’ll just go to waste.”

“I guess so,” he shoots back. 

Vanessa rounds the bed, presumably to go sleep in the chair. (Another thing that there’s only one of.)

“What if…” he pauses, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea. Vanessa looks at him. “What if we shared the bed?”

“Share the bed?”

“Like I sleep on this side.” He points to the side closest to him. “And you sleep on that side?”

“Would you be okay with that?” Vanessa asks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, waving off her concern. “I’m more worried about you.”

“I’m fine. It’s not a bad idea, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Mike shrugs. “I mean as long as you’re okay with it, I’ll be fine.” And he would be. A lot of his discomfort comes from sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. Sure, he’s slept in a lot of different places, but never this far from home. After Garrett was taken, he grew to fear being away from his parents (and later Abby) for long periods of time.

“Okay,” she says, slipping off her shoes and climbing under the covers. She looks up at Mike expectantly. “Well?”

He takes a deep breath. “I have to call the house. The babysitter is probably expecting me back soon, and Abby will be upset if I don’t say goodnight.”

She nods, snuggling deeper into the covers. 

-x-x-x-

Mike slinks back into the room. Thankfully, both the babysitter and Abby understood his predicament. Abby told him goodnight - which was sweet. And then, she started teasing Mike about his apparent “crush” (like he’s in middle school or something), to which he hung up.

He loves his little sister, but sometimes she drives him up a wall.

He slips into the bed, curling up. The blankets are scratchy and the pillows are lumpy, but Mike would be lying if he said he wasn’t half-asleep by the time his head hit the bed.

Next to him, Vanessa giggles. 

“What?” He mutters, eyelids drooping. 

“Nothing. Goodnight, Mike.”

“Yeah….goodnight to….” Before he can finish his thought, Mike is fast asleep. And not long after, Vanessa follows suit. 

For the first time in a long time, their dreams are pleasant. 

-x-x-x-

Mike is used to waking up with someone hanging off him. It’s a natural part of being a big brother. First with Garrett-who he shared a room with-and then with Abby, who always preferred his company, even before mom died and dad left. 

What he’s not used to is the other person being taller than him, and having their chin rest on his head. 

He panics, jerking backwards. Sadly, the bed's not big enough for the amount of panicking his sleep-addled brain is doing, and Mike very nearly tumbles to the floor. At the last possible second, a pair of arms save him, pulling him back. 

Vanessa looks at him. He turns on his side, staring at her. 

Without another word, they go right back to snuggling. Sure, it might be awkward in the morning, but that would be the future-them’s problem. 

They fall asleep, curled up right next to each other. If their fingers wind up intertwined, or they end up snuggling in their sleep, well then, that’s no one else’s business but theirs.

[charliedawn]

hi im just wondering how would the slashers react if they saw a yautja like we captured them then bring it and there's reaction plus the yautja if you write it thank u sorry if it that confusing

Penny and Pennywise :

*start a whole conversation with only little clicking noises and notices people staring at them both* : "....What ?"

Penny is fluent in all alien languages and would hence be able to play the role of a translator. But, be careful. He's not always reliable.

You : "...Are you sure that he said he would kill everyone ?"

Penny *shrugs with a smile* : "...Or, he could have also said he's here to save us all ? I'm not sure.."

Pennywise : "AH ! Big bug. Nice to meet you, buddy."

The translation would be a bit more reliable here, as Pennywise wouldn't miss the opportunity to remind you every single second of his intellectual superiority.

But, he could also be difficult and remain unresponsive.

You *sigh* : "Come on, Pennywise. Please. Translate. I can't do this without you."

Pennywise *smiles smugly and rolls his eyes : "Fiiiiine. If you're that desperate."

It would be a big ego boost for him and he may even learn about the alien in itself, useful things he may or may not keep to himself.

Michael :

Michael stared at the creature who stared back at him. He didn't actually know what to say or do.

They both evaluated each other as threats and once they acknowledged their mutual interest in communicating, Michael started learning the language of yautjas.

He wouldn't let the language barrier be a problem and try to learn how to write down and understand. They would soon bond on the fact that they are both protectors.

Michael *writes down in the yautja language* : "Friends ?"

Yautja *nods and responds* : "Friends."

Jason :

Jason wouldn't actually approach the yautja at first.

He would observe him from afar and take pictures—pictures that would become a valuable part of the yautja file.

Jason always prefers to see the person before actually trying to start a conversation. He would observe his interactions with the others and take notes on his behavior patterns before taking any initiative.

Jason *stands before the yautja*

Yautja *looks up at him and tilts his head*...You have been observing me. I was wondering when you would finally show yourself ?

Jason *stays silent before answering in sign language*: "Jason."

Yautja *lowers his head in greeting*

Jack Torrance :

Jack : "....Cigarette ?"

Yautja *looks away in disinterest*

Jack *huffs a laugh before retrieving one for himself* : "Suit yourself."

Jack is an author. He would probably find inspiration in it.

He would start typing about the yautja. Make observations. Hypothesis.

He'd try to find out information about it and be mind-blowed by his story for sure.

Jack : "...So wait, you come from that big species of alien warriors whose only purpose is to hunt down other aliens ? And you ended up here because your ship got wrecked ?"

Yautja *nods*

Jack : "...Shit, man. Talk about bad luck."

Brahms :

Brahms *looks sad* : "You must miss your family so much..."

Yautja *stays silent*

Brahms—as the big empath that he is—would immediately feel bad for him and try to convince you on either releasing him, or at least of his good nature.

Brahms : "He's a good person."

You : "...Based on ?"

Brahms *smiles* : "On my feelings."

The yautja would also get attached to him and his kindness.

*live interaction between Freddy and the yautja*

Freddy called him ugly.

The yautja threw him out the window.

Norman Bates :

Norman : "Trust me. Get out while you still can."

Norman opened his cage and made sure to leave an opening for the creature to escape.

Norman knows what happens to people in St Louis. They usually never get out. He barely made it out himself and even though he was smiling when he warned the yautja—his warning was very real.

"They'll tell you they want to help you, but soon enough..You'll be trapped here until they either kill you, or find a way to get rid of you.."