#( hcs. )

[saetoru]

tee you know what would he so funny and i keep thinking about? is if you were seen with one of the blue lock men’s friends or teammates, and then there’s a picture on the news like “y/n cheating on ___?” 💀 idk i just giggle into my hand at the idea

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。BLUE LOCK + RUMORS THAT YOU’RE DATING SOMEBODY ELSE

✩ — characters ⋮ itoshi sae, mikage reo, shidou ryusei ✩ — contents ⋮ fluff, gn! reader, established relationships, rather pouty and salty boys <3 ✩ — notes ⋮ nauurr this is actually so cute so i decided to turn them into kind of short drabbles w a few boys <3

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。ITOSHI SAE.

sae stares at his screen and blinks. you fight back a grin as he rereads the title, trying not to let out a small giggle.

“itoshi sae bested by little brother in love,” he reads blankly, and you almost think he doesn’t care if not for the way his hand clutches his phone a little tighter.

“sae, it’s not our fault, okay?” you chuckle, shuffling closer on the bed, wrapping yourself around him, “the paparazzi just caught us off guard. you know how they twist things for the headlines.” he does know—but still, he eyes you from the side before scrolling along the article and staring at more pictures of you and rin walking out of the convenience store.

“you went with rin? really?” he grumbles, eyeing a picture of you both laughing as you walk out the store. why is it so easy for rin to laugh at your jokes? more importantly, why is it so easy for you to laugh at his?

“well technically you were supposed to go with me, but you were being grumpy,” you huff, looking at him with raised brows.

it’s rare for both the brothers to be at their old childhood home at the same time, they never really get vacations that overlap enough to visit their parents together—and it’s never really been a priority for either of them with such an…estranged relationship. but this year’s a rare stroke of luck, and sae’s mother insists he brings you along with him for the ‘full family effect.’

except he rarely leaves the room if not to go for his jog or the gym—and you’re tired of being cooped up indoors all day. so when he opts for staying in to rewatch a match when you practically beg him to go to the convenience store around the corner with you, and rin so graciously offers to walk with you to grab a few things himself—how could you decline?

“i wasn’t being grumpy,” he says bitterly, “i was busy. it’s different.”

“well, me and rin had a blast,” you tease, pointing at the pictures on his phone, “as you can see.”

“shut up,” he scowls, locking his phone and crossing his arms. it’s cute to see him like this—slightly jealous and petulant as he tries to shrug it off like he doesn’t care. you giggle, leaning to peck his cheek.

“so? how does it feel to have your brother steal the love of your life?”

“i don’t know,” he rolls his eyes, “seems to me like you came crawling right back to me in the end.”

“not taking it well, huh,” you say amused—and finally, he wraps a loose arm around your figure as you sprawl yourself on his chest, leaning up to kiss his jaw. “you know how you can win me back over? taking me to the store next time i ask.”

“oh trust me,” he says with a sour look on his face, making you snort as you poke his nose, “you’re not walking past that door without me next time.”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MIKAGE REO.

reo is distraught.

“look at these comments,” he cries, shoving his phone in your face.

“reo,” you try to fight back a giggle, reaching over to ruffle his hair affectionately as you try to soothe his crisis, “it’ll blow over, don’t worry. me and nagi were just getting snacks.”

“yeah but they’re completely trashing me,” he whines, eyes all but popping out of his sockets as he reads the comments on the twitter post, “‘you know you’re lame when even your money isn’t enough to keep someone?’ what does that even mean?”

“it means you’re losing your charm,” you tease, cackling when he throws you a soft glare from his spot on the couch. he’s scooches away from you, sitting on the opposite end as he holds up a hand.

“you stay on your half,” he huffs, “i don’t want to sit with a cheater.”

“i didn’t cheat!” you snort, “we went to get snacks for you too—”

“yeah and you forgot them,” he glares.

“i said sorry!”

“well, it doesn’t help,” he pouts as he turns back to his phone, glaring at his screen as he reads the way some of the comments are now claiming you and nagi are a cute couple. it makes his brows furrow as a vein all but pops in his forehead, making you bite your lip so as not to laugh and hurt your boyfriend’s already painfully bruised ego.

“baby, you know you’re the only guy for me,” you grin, shuffling over to his side of the couch, giggling as you cling to him while he tries to (gently) shove you off.

“i don’t know,” he grumbles, “clearly i’m not since you haven’t even defended me in these comments.”

“i’ll make sure to tell them your money still has all the appeal,” you grin, earning a sharp look from him as you throw your head back and laugh. “i’m kidding.”

“you’re not,” he mumbles, crossing his arms. he looks cute like this—makes your heart soar as you lean closer and cup his cheeks and press soft kisses along his face. and even as he tries to fight it, he can’t help but smile a little and lean into your touch.

“i’ll make sure to defend your honor in the comments,” you murmur, biting his cheek playfully. he turns, leans in for a peck to the lips as he sighs.

“you better,” he mutters, “these people are ruthless.”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SHIDOU RYUSEI.

shidou is a nightmare if you’ve ever met one—makes your life increasingly difficult because how dare someone write an article that hints that what’s his could be anyone else’s?

“what do you want for dinner?” you ask, sighing as he shrugs.

“oh, i don’t know,” he grins condescendingly, “why don’t you let your other boyfriend decide?”

“ryusei—”

“if i see him, he’s gonna be one with the concrete, i’ll tell you that.”

“don’t even think about getting into trouble. that’s your teammate,” you pinch your nose, trying to be the one and only voice of reason there evidently is, “we just saw each other at the store and said hi—”

“why did he need to say hi?” he growls, crossing his arms as he stares at his screen again, eyeing the title of the article that’s single handedly spoiled your afternoon with a moody boyfriend in your hands. “i should teach him a lesson—”

“you should do no such thing—”

“you know what? i don’t even care,” he says suddenly, and there’s too much of a wicked grin on his face for you to feel at ease about his sudden turn of mood.

“ryusei.” your voice comes out as a warning, but he pays it mind.

“yeah, babe?” he says sweetly, scrolling through his phone and making your stomach churn as you walk over.

“what are you—” and then there’s a buzz of your phone, cutting you off as you hesitantly glance at it in your hand, noticing the mention you have from him. “what did you do?” you narrow your eyes.

“nothing,” he shrugs, “just cleared the air.”

and if you were unsettled before, you’re certainly concerned now because shidou ryusei taking matters into his own hands can only mean a headache for you and serious damage control for his team. you groan, rubbing your temple as you prepare yourself for the worst case scenario.

“what could you possibly—are you kidding me, ryusei? are you out of your mind?” you stare at the picture he’s posted, one of him practically sucking your face off in the middle of god knows where—when did he even get this picture? and who took it? but as quickly as the questions pop into your head, you decide just as fast that you don’t even want to know.

“that’ll teach ‘em,” he grins darkly, and he has the audacity to look proud of himself, earning himself a harsh glare from you. he only snickers, grabs you by the wrist and tugs you onto his lap on the couch. “wanna recreate the picture?” he grins widely.

“no i want to delete the picture,” you grumble.

“not an option,” he says smugly, and then his lips are on yours—and even if he’s shaved ten years off your life, you think it’s at least a good thing that he’s back to his usual self.

i want to have a lil salty sae in my bed immediately.

[bladedsoul]

i might've mentioned it i can't remember but yana is actually vegetarian -- maybe pescatarian though, i'm a little undecided. this, alongside many other things in her late teens to early adulthood, is a product of the time she spent in limbo as a child.

while it wasn't terrible while under the care of ororo and her self made paradise, her time grew more macabre after leaving with cat -- and later being stuck with belasco.

cat, who'd been transformed into something a little more like her namesake after a past attempt at killing belasco failed, was exactly that -- a cat. sharp teeth, sharp claws, yellowed eyes, slit pupils, and the appetite to match. more times than she can count had illyana watched her, no weapons, take down giant predators that would be their food for the days it would last. she'd watched cat tear into raw, uncooked flesh as though it were anything but what it was. before illyana learnt to make her own fires she herself had been given no other option but to indulge in squidgy, uncooked meat, lest she die of starvation. cat would not baby her. cat would not do for her what she didn't need to do for herself. and yana has eaten far too much meat, both cooked and raw, to find any enjoyment or desire to eat it again. for it only reminds her of cat -- who illyana had killed with a swift snap of her neck.

in the case of being left under belasco's care, when they failed another attempt to kill him and cat was effectively turned into a domesticated house cat with no more autonomy, it only strengthened her desire to not eat meat. not so much from a standpoint of still eating it ( because one of belasco's manipulation tactics was treating her well when she behaved ), but how many times belasco made her practice magic on unwilling creatures. how many of them, in her apprenticeship, exploded into a shower of guts and blood and bone because she hadn't quite mastered it. so it's just something she prefers to steer away from.

[ar1shan]

halsin has this way of letting himself be seduced that is knowing, playful, utterly measured—it is very plain that he's letting you know that he is aware he's being flirted with without actually telling you

[1mperium]

giulio finding out that he can die is exhilarating in the worst way possible like it's an actual freakshow—for context he is bitten in the early 1900s by one of the vampires he's sired and the bite wound he receives heals with painful difficulty, it keeps oozing his own cursed blood but that wound is also deserving of worship for the immense godsent revelation that it is for him and he DOES treat it with the reverence owed to gifts, for weeks he feeds on nothing but his own blood (which does not sustain him, it's cursed, but his godly ancestry is diluted in it) prodding the wound open as soon as the edges begin to scar and it's both a physically taxing and ecstatic experience for him

[grtsqe]

i love horror so andi's spider form is genuinely nothing short of horrifically grotesque.

excluding the fact that she grows three times her size, acquires extra limbs ( each one clawed at the ends ), her skin a sickly grey and mottled with bloody tears from the transformation, her entire demeanour is just?? grim.

she can talk while she's shifted, but it tends to come out short and garbled because her teeth are so long and sharp she can't close her mouth entirely without them piercing her gums. she drools quite a bit because of this, and tends to gnash her teeth/shake her head in an attempt to stop it. talking sometimes hurts for the same reason, which means more often than not when people are talking to her/giving instructions she just stares at them unnervingly. as she thinks the eye contact conveys the fact that, while not responding, she is listening. she's like an overgrown attack dog: just a lot freakier.

in actuality, when not under stress or the threat of danger, she doesn't pose a threat at all in her spider form - and she actually finds more comfort in it because it's the only form of protection she's ever had. she uses it very sparingly when she's no longer confined to her universe because she's incredibly aware of how uneasy it makes people - which is the last thing she wants when she's trying to fit in.

[yhw4ch]

yhwach will share the wonders of the old world with any of his children that dares to ask, and there are frescoes in silbern that were painted after it/tales stored in the libraries of the wandenreich that tell myths woven around the primordial universe—it's taken him decades to start remembering it as it was, even the memory of his father was nearly lost to him in the currents of reincarnation that ichibe had him sink into, but it got progressively more vivid over the years. that world is part of the quincy national mythology by yhwach's order, and much of the visual/written material about it was produced because of his wish that the quincy as people would be tethered to an image of paradise that is already present in their folk imagery

[ikarosxflight]

https://sexvalues.github.io/

He's Greek. What were you expecting? Tagging: @piousolus @goddessxoflight @halfsovl @regnantlight @vigilantdesert @tenebriism || whoever down bad

[a0kiji]

not to be a powerscaler on main but the fact that kuzan's mere presence is enough to make doflamingo back out without a word is sooo sexy

[almakfi]

people speculating about the nature of their relationship is such an essential part of basim's manipulation of sigurd btw

[zcdkiel]

Headcannons;

Zadkiel, um arcanjo outrora conhecido por sua infinita misericórdia, é hoje uma sombra do que já foi, mudado drasticamente com o passar dos milênios. O amargor que tomou conta dele é palpável para aqueles que o conhecem desde os primórdios. Sua transformação foi sutil a princípio, mas com o tempo, o anjo, que já representou o perdão, tornou-se carrancudo e frio, sua compaixão corroída pela amargura e vingança.

Após a trágica morte de Beatrice, Zadkiel jurou rastrear os descendentes das mulheres responsáveis por sua morte. Durante suas viagens pelo mundo, ele se dedicou a testá-los, observando atentamente seu caráter. Aos que se revelaram tão vil e gananciosos quanto suas ancestrais, Zadkiel concedeu uma morte rápida e indolor, executando seu julgamento com precisão fria. Sua cruzada silenciosa moldou ainda mais seu distanciamento emocional e seu endurecimento diante da vida.

Apesar de sua rigidez e aparência austera, Zadkiel carrega um grande fardo em silêncio: o pecado da luxúria. Ele sempre foi consciente do desejo que sentia pela criação, embora nunca tenha cedido, mantendo-se em um celibato ortodoxo, resistindo a todas as tentações que cruzaram seu caminho. O anjo vive uma vida disciplinada, recusando-se a admitir seus desejos internos, mesmo que apenas para si.

Uma de suas paixões ocultas é a arte, especialmente a escultura. Assim como seu Criador, Zadkiel encontra prazer em criar. Ele molda argila com as próprias mãos, criando rostos e miniaturas de pessoas que lhe chamam a atenção, seja por suas virtudes ou por algo que enxergue em suas almas. Sua arte é uma válvula de escape, uma forma de processar o que sente e vê, sem se entregar totalmente ao desejo. A música também faz parte de sua alma, e embora saiba tocar praticamente qualquer instrumento de cordas, detesta cantar.

No que diz respeito à aparência, Zadkiel prefere trajes finos e elegantes, geralmente feitos de seda, e em tons claros. Ternos perfeitamente ajustados e tecidos lisos, sem estampas ou cores escuras, são a sua escolha de vestuário. Ele se recusa a tolerar qualquer tipo de bagunça ou sujeira, sendo extremamente organizado. Sua casa é um reflexo desse traço: livros ordenados alfabeticamente, sua geladeira organizada por cores. Cada detalhe da vida de Zadkiel é cuidadosamente planejado e mantido, um reflexo de sua obsessão pelo controle.

Ele não fuma e raramente bebe, limitando-se a taças ocasionais de vinho acompanhadas por tábuas de queijos — uma de suas indulgências humanas favoritas.

Ao longo dos séculos, Zadkiel desceu à Terra em inúmeras missões. Sendo um arcanjo poderoso, poucos foram os corpos mortais capazes de suportar sua graça, e todos pertenciam a homens de uma única linhagem familiar. Esses receptáculos mortais carregam uma marca específica, a marca de Zadkiel, um símbolo de sua presença em seus corpos, um traço que permanece em cada um deles, vinculando-os eternamente à sua missão e ao fardo de carregar um arcanjo dentro de si.

[invelena]

funny how intensely touch-averse viago is and how that translates to plain discomfort/annoyance under normal circumstances by which i mean in the case anyone other than teia tries to initiate physical contact with him, while when it's teia his aversion builds up in order to preserve his well-guarded self-control from shattering under the pressure of how deeply she affects him AND it's not even the fact that he's horny for her which yes he is but the closer/more normalized their closeness becomes the harder it gets for him to delude himself into believing he is not in love

[blclva]

anyway back to the balaclava's....

always thinking about simon putting the bullet in roba's head. the flash of a memory following of his massacred family; his brother, sil, nephew. his brother who managed to drag himself from the bottom of the barrel — who put the addiction behind him, got himself a lovely missus, had himself the sweetest little sprog. the closest thing to a family simon would've ever gotten, because he doesn't and has never seen himself with a family. it's not in his nature, nor does his line of work permit as much.

how he believes a bullet to the skull isn't enough. even though he was there — even though he witnessed the weeping hole in the centre of his forehead, a perfect shot of course, and saw the rise and fall of his chest cease. how an irrational part of him, an irrational part subjected to horrors on roba's order, believes he isn't dead. he himself had come back from the dead, after all. crawled himself out through wood and dirt when he was buried alive.

how there's the flash of a nightmare. roba's skull painted face haunting him as the lid to the coffin is slid over him, blocking out any light he had been getting. the heavy thud of dirt being piled atop him. the suffocating feeling of being trapped that still has him waking up in cold sweats when the blanket wraps just a little too tightly around him while he sleeps. and it's this that solidifies what he needs to do.

he crouches down, unbothered by the sodden mud that seeps through his gear. pulls out his knife and begins to hack and saw with no hesitation. regardless of the blood that coats the knife, his gloves, the ends of his sleeves, he keeps going until roba's mandible has been detached and flayed. it's the only way he can ease himself — it's a reminder that he's dead, and he can be nothing but dead. when he gets back home, he attaches it to a balaclava and all it does is sit in a drawer. tucked away so it can be found only by him when the nightmares are too much and he has to remind himself that roba is truly dead and gone.

he digs the bullet out his forehead too, as a keepsake. he's so sentimental <3

[redbek]

aleksandra only has two recurring nightmares.

01. remorse was brainwashed out of her during her time in the red room. everything she did was for russia — she doesn't feel guilt for the lives she's taken, nor disgust for the brutality with which she executed those who posed a threat to the nation. screams of agony, desperate pleading through body wracking sobs, nor countless pairs of lifeless eyes plague her. she did what was necessary: even if she had been discarded like she meant nothing upon the dissolve of the red room and collapse of the soviet union. she doesn't know what emotions the nightmare elicits, and she hates it because — to her knowledge — she doesn't know any of the people present. it is one of the only things that can drag any sort of emotion out of her.

she doesn't know who it is in her nightmare. many of her memories as a child, before the red room, are gone — a little blurry at best. she doesn't know the man tied to the chair, missing limbs and surrounded by a pool of his own blood begging for them not to take his daughter, was her father. she doesn't know the screams of a little girl belong to her. that the desperate pleading to stop hurting him were coming from her.

she knows he was a traitor, because they made sure to remind her every day after she was brought to the red room. they treated her, five year old aleksandra, as though she were a traitor. as though she knew of her fathers plans and that she agreed with them. that is what kept the memory of him alive, even if she doesn't know its him or that it's an experience she's lived through.

02. this one is a little grim tw here for cannibalism.

it took a while for the trainers to fully break aleksandra in. the title of a traitor was one that followed her for years, up until she was a teenager. despite taking to the training well, succumbing to the brainwashing easily given her young age, she was disrespectful. listening to instructions wasn't her forte. she wanted to be perfect, to lose the title of a traitor, but she felt she couldn't do it following their rules. she knew better; knew her strengths, her weaknesses (or lack thereof, she'd claim). she hated working with other widows, believing they only dragged her down and dampened her abilities. she cussed, taunted opponents, lashed out. despite her skills, each year she seemed to only become more of a lost cause — and if the man who would later become her handler didn't vouch for her, claiming he saw potential in her, she would have been liquidated early in her training.

during a period of endurance training, widows were forced to fight for days on end. no food, no water, no sleep, to see how they fared with the deprivation of sustenance. how long they could go without basic human needs while still remaining functional. after days of endless fights, each one a victory, the training comes to a close. locked in the cold, windowless concrete room she was forced to fight in, she expects the body of the girl she'd killed to be collected: she expected to be freed.

nobody came. after a week of fighting she was exhausted, dehydrated, starving. desperation to survive, to prove herself worthy, to shed the skin of the traitor title, drove her to unfathomable lengths. when the door opened some hours later, aleks was knocked out asleep, curled up on the icy floor with blood coating her mouth and staining her fingers.

this was the moment her trainers knew they'd broken her in fully. she could've let herself die in that room. could have curled into a ball and passed away, and she'd be free: but she persevered. her dedication to the red room, to russia, was proven when she went to extreme lengths to ensure her survival so she could continue serving her country.

the nightmare is fuzzy whenever it comes, and despite all the brainwashing undergone during her training it makes her nauseous the first few minutes after waking up. though she convinces herself that it was necessary. that it was for the good of russia and its people, and the feeling fades soon after.

[ar1shan]

calling druids treehuggers thinking you will insult them but they know trees intimately and they use arboreal magic, the trees whisper to them wisdom older than most human settlements and thanks to this knowledge druids master the secrets of life and death and the cycles of nature—there is a darkness in halsin's magic and his healing arts, a warm, earthy, soothing darkness, that draws strength as roots do, from growth and depth AND there is a light to them, vivid and transparent as new leaves. treehuggers are scary

[1mperium]

killing his father was a pivotal moment in the development of giulio's personality—not that it was undeserved but like the reason why he did it, other than the fact that his mother instructed him to for reasons that sixteen-year-old giulio was not entirely privy to, is that the man was guilty of being mediocre and a bit mid