#It definitely helped keep the fight “light” even though it was to the death

[anna-pineappel]

Head-canons!

Head-canons!

Head-canons!

Buckle up, I have quite a few headcanons for Hogan’s Heroes and the characters! I also have some Klogan-ship specific headcanons but I’ll focus on the characters. I’m also going to follow @frau-wilhelm-klink’s format. This gets long, sorry not sorry!

I also have specific head-canons for my fics, especially my long ones since there’s a lot happening and it’s too easy to derail and I need something to keep me on track! 😅 I could easily make separate posts for Walk Through Fire and Peace in the Moonlight (including its Prequel, which is now titled Terror in the Shadows)

General:

Either Klink/Burkhalter is Nimrod - it fluctuates depending on the Plot of a fic I’m writing. But I can see arguments of either or. (Why Burkhalter keeps Klink in his post, why he lets Hogan stick around in Klink’s office when he comes around. Why Klink tolerates Hogan’s antics, why he’s so high strung).

The Germans spoke German a lot more (obviously the show was in English for an English-speaking audience). However, Klink and Schultz would often speak English for Hogan and his men’s sake. Hogan and the gang all understand German in varying degrees but are fairly fluent in it.

The POWs definitely formed a found-family situation at Stalag 13. They all need each other and even though a horrible thing brought them together, they wouldn’t have it any other way. Klink and Schultz somehow became part of the found family too. (They are like that uncle that you’re not quite sure about, but turn out to be pretty cool and let you drink beer behind your parents’ backs).

The Germans (the Main 4):

Klink (trying to stay human in an inhumane business):

Is not the complete dummkopf that everyone makes him out to be. If he’s Nimrod, he’s just anxious about anyone else finding out. Burkhalter and Hochstetter also drive him crazy and he just wants to get through the war without freezing to death on the Russian Front.

When passionate/angry, Klink doesn’t remember the English language. Any yelling that happens is most definitely in German. Also, he can get incredibly angry/intimidating when he absolutely needs to.

Feels protective over his prisoners. He has a sense of duty and frankly, doesn’t care for the Nazi’s ideology. He’s grown fond of Hogan (especially; whether platonically or romantically) and his men and wants to makes sure they live through the war.

Schultz (Gentle Giant Teddy Bear):

Got caught up in the Draft, is definitely not a Nazi, nor does he believe in the Regime. Holds a grudge for having his toy factory repossessed for the war effort. Also can’t stand all the violence/fighting that comes with the War and just wants it over.

He knows about Hogan’s men and their operation but since he opposes the Nazi Regime, he implements his ‘I know nothing, I see nothing!’ Policy and plays the fool, but often helps out in any way he can.

He and Klink are actually good friends, bonding over their hatred for the war and what has become of Germany. Klink acts tough towards Schultz but deep down, has a soft spot for him, keeping him in his post.

Burkhalter (Has no time for nonsense and will sass you):

Is 110% done with everyone and their bullshit, especially Hochstetter. He has his own agenda (whether as Nimrod or as a General), and is tired of everyone else getting in his way. He doesn’t necessarily care about people or things; that would get in the way of his Strategy.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t completely hate Klink. He’s also feeling pressure from his superiors and since Stalag 13 is a Model Prison Camp with Zero Escapes, there’s a spot-light on it and Klink. He genuinely wonders how Klink does it.

He is also… fascinated by Hogan (in a ideology/military strategy way). All he knows of America is what the Regime has told him, which is all propaganda bullshit, so he’s genuinely intrigued by Hogan and his homeland.

Hochstetter (my angry smol bean man; I’m deep into this man rn for my WIP):

Definitely has an unhealthy obsession with Hogan (to the point that it is homoerotic in a way/may be due to internalized homophobia) and is desperate to prove that he is the Underground agent Papa Bear to his superiors, who may be getting to the point of dismissing the theory since there’s no evidence.

Like Klink and Burkhalter, he is feeling the pressure from his superiors to prove that Hogan is Papa Bear, and that is why he is wound tighter than a ball of yarn. He usually is a great detective, but is letting his skills/other cases slide with his Hogan Obsession™️

Is insanely jealous of Klink for having Hogan in his custody. A man as dangerous as he claims Hogan to be should be handed over to Gestapo for questioning. Why does KLINK, of all people, get to have Papa Bear?! He also questions if there’s something going on between Klink and Hogan, but like his case for Papa Bear, he has no proof.

The POWs:

Hogan (military mastermind with a mouth that won’t shut up):

Would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat if it meant his men (and Klink and Schultz) would be safe, a bit of a martyr. He sees himself as a father/big brother figure to his men and loves them as if there his own family. He also gets fed up with them, like they’re his own family.

Can sometimes let his emotions get the better of him, and explains why he sometimes seems to be flying off the handle. Seriously, without Kinch to hold him back, Hogan is bit unhinged.

Has gotten roughed up by the Germans (the SS/Gestapo) at least once, and holds a personal grudge against the Nazi Regime. He has his own mental blocks, but his motives are to make sure no one goes through what he did.

(Bonus): Has a certain level of respect for Klink and genuinely thinks they could be friends or more after the war. He loves his men, but enjoys the company of another officer from time to time.

Kinch (Holder of the Brain Cell):

Is the gang’s rationalized thinking. He questions the sanity of himself and those around him on a daily basis, and wonders what he did to be surrounded by these maniacs (that he loves).

With his race, he, along with Hogan, knows how horrible people like the Nazis can be. He would like to go unhinged like many (especially Hogan, Newkirk and Carter), but he takes the high road, to not feed into horrific stereotypes.

Often had to prove himself to others, but not with Hogan. Hogan knew Kinch was brilliant with technology and doesn’t see race, and Kinch appreciates being treated like anyone else.

Newkirk (Lovable Bastard):

He’s been at Stalag 13 the longest, which makes sense given that England/France/Canada joined the war years before the United States. Next of the core gang for longest time at Stalag 13 is Hogan, so the two have a bond over that.

Has a (petty) criminal past, which explains the lock-picking/pick pocking skills. Forced to join the military as an alternative to jail time and he was told he could kill as many Nazis as he’d like. He gladly accepted since… yeah, Nazis suck.

Bonded well with Carter since they both have a love for mayhem and destruction. He only picks on Carter because he is teasing, but knows to stop when he really strikes a chord. Carter brings out a sensitive side to Newkirk that he wouldn’t admit to the others.

Carter (Pyromaniac with a Heart of Gold):

Is neurodivergent (whether it’s on the autism spectrum, ADHD, or a little bit of both), and is happy to be be included, and accepted in the gang, even if he doesn’t understand all the social conventions. He seems a bit dim/naive, but in fact, is one of the smartest people of the bunch.

Has special interests with chemistry and explosions, which is why he can ramble on and on about them. He gets dejected when the rest of the gang dismisses him, but often, Newkirk or Hogan come to him later and let him ramble and show an interest.

Has a close bond with both Hogan and Newkirk, he sees Hogan as an older brother and often forgets they are in the military together. Explains why he often calls him boy vs. Sir because he just… feels like family.

LeBeau (Resident Short King):

Like Hogan, has a personal grudge with the Nazis since they did occupy France after all. He might have also had a run in with the SS/Gestapo, which Hogan knows about. It took him a long time to come around to Klink not being a bad guy; he was instant friends with Schultz after the first batch of strudel.

His one pet peeve with the rest of the guys is that none of them really bothered to learn French. So whenever he’s mad, he just starts muttering in French under his breath and shaking his head. Oddly enough, he found out Klink speaks fluent French and the two of them would often talk in French, much to Hogan’s frustrations (of not understanding what the hell they are talking about).

Has aspirations to be a chef, and maybe was one before the war/occupation. He takes a great joy in cooking which is why he doesn’t mind cooking if Hogan/Klink ask him too. He would rather not cook for Nazi-scum, but he knows that Hogan (and to a lesser extent, Klink) have ulterior motives.

What are your top 3 headcanons for Hogan's Heroes in general?

What are your top 3 headcanons for each character?

[angelicsoka]

DISAPPROVAL, t. owens

word count | 1.6k

pairings | tyler owens x fem!storm chaser!reader

summary | in which javi disapproves of his sister’s relationship

warnings | contains spoilers for the movie!! mentions of death, tornadoes, and panic attacks. brother-sister fighting, slight angst. one use of ‘y/n’. not proofread. lowercase intended. 

a/n | i literally can’t stop thinking about this movie. tyler owens x javi’s sister has me in a choke hold

you had never been the type to run from your fears, not now and definitely not five years ago. you used to storm chase with kate carter and your brother, javi, as well as three other of your friends. the six of you, led by kate, had come together to see if it was really possible to reduce the intensity of a tornado. you knew that the experiment would be dangerous, but it had never fully occurred to you that you or anyone else could die. that was a mistake you swore you would never make again. 

five years had passed and you still were waking up, sweating and shaking from the horrid night where you lost three of your closest friends. you shakily tore the covers from your body, walking quietly to the bathroom so as to not wake the sleeping body still in bed. you closed the door to the bathroom before turning on the light. you turned the sink on, splashing water on your face as a sigh escaped your mouth. you gripped the sides of the sink, attempting to center yourself. “fuck.”

“babe, you in there?” you jumped when tyler knocked on the door, your breathing quickening once more. “babe?” tyler turned the door knob, pushing it up to see you slowly sliding down the wall as you began to hyperventilate. he rushed to your side, which wasn't far in the cramped bathroom. he helped you to the floor, sitting in front of you. “hey, hey, let's just sit down. just breathe with me, okay?” you nodded, following tyler in his exaggerated breathing, feeling as your heart rate began to slow down. “you’re okay, you’re safe.” you nodded, finally noticing the tears streaming down your face.

“sorry, ty, i didn’t mean to wake you.” you apologized through sniffles, wiping at your nose. 

“you didn’t wake me. plus, i just wanted to make sure you were okay.” you still felt guilty about it, about him constantly dealing with your nightmares and panic attacks. you felt guilty that you still pushed yourself to storm chase even though you are terrified of losing the ones you love most. you knew you shouldn’t push that guilt or fear away, but there was another part of you that just wanted to help people. “why don’t we go get some breakfast?” tyler helped you to your feet, the two of you trudging over to the diner across from the motel. 

breakfast had been mostly silent, tyler trying to start a conversation but you were too stuck in your head. your knee anxiously bounced as you realized you would be heading to oklahoma, and that you were more than likely to run into your brother javi. you had talked to javi a lot over the phone, but it had been at least a year since you had last seen him in person. he’d been begging you for a few weeks now to leave tyler and the wranglers behind and to join his crew and help with a new tornado scanning system. you knew javi just wanted to help people, but the people funding his projects did not have the same interests at heart. “you ready?” you looked, not hardly having touched your food, accepting tyler’s extended hand. “boone’s getting pretty antsy about leavin’. dude’s been blowing up my phone for like the last thirty minutes.” you giggled when tyler showed you his phone with nearly fifty texts from boone.

“i’m surprised he’s even up, let alone ready to hit the road.” tyler tossed an arm over your shoulders, placing a delicate kiss on your temple as you walked back to the motel.

“yeah, well, best not to keep the man waiting.” tyler went to grab your stuff from the motel room before checking out, leaving you to rig up the gps. 

“boone! you ridin’ with us?” you shouted over to boone who was talking with dexter, dani, and lily. “we’ve got a seat open for you as well, ben.” you smiled to the journalist, who thought you to be the only sane one of the group. ben smiled at you, his body language showing he was clearly uneasy. “don’t worry, the ride to oklahoma shouldn’t be too bad.”

“it's not that ride that i’m worried about.” before you could question him, boone hopped in beside him, tyler entering the driver’s seat not a moment later. 

“let’s ride!” boone whooped, tyler tearing out of the parking lot. you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to be hyped up like your boyfriend and friend, too anxious about seeing your brother. he had already disapproved of you riding with the wranglers, you couldn’t imagine how he’d react when he found out you were dating tyler owens of all people.

at some point during the ride, you had fallen asleep only to be startled awake by boone, camera in hand as he yelled out the truck. “sorry, babe.” tyler quietly apologized to you, squeezing your hand. you squinted out the window, your stomach dropping at the sight of javi and kate, stood side by side. all the shouting and cheering seemed to be muted when your eyes locked with javi’s. even though you were nervous, the sight of your big brother brought a soft smile to your face. 

tyler put the truck in park, the crowd surrounding them. you pushed the door open, hopping down as tyler got the crowd chanting. boone was walking around, filming, while dani, lily, and dexter began to sell the merchandise. you stood off to the side, watching tyler do his thing, a smile gracing your lips. you looked around, catching kate’s eye, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her friend. she walked over to you, engulfing you in a hug before you had time to say anything. “kate! i wasn’t expecting to see you here!” you laughed, gripping kate tightly. 

“i didn’t realize you were still chasing, i thought you would at least be riding with javi.” you tensed slightly at your brother’s name, pulling back from kate’s arms. 

“uh, yeah, i’ve just decided to ride with the wranglers this season.” your tenseness didn’t go unnoticed by kate, but before she could ask you anything your attention was brought to your brother waltzing over. “javi!” your nerves dissipated when javi threw his arms around you, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“i’ve missed you, sis.” you let out a sigh, trying not to let the tears well in your eyes.

“i’ve missed you too, javi.” you pulled back, now seeing your crew watching you. the crowd had mostly left, and the sight of you hugging a man that wasn’t tyler had them concerned. “why don’t you come meet my crew?” you knew javi had no interest in meeting your crew, but you wanted him to see they weren’t just daredevils with a need for a thrill. “hey, guys, i want you to meet my brother, javi, and my good friend, kate!” everyone but boone and tyler had come to meet them. “javi, kate, meet dexter, lily, and dani! oh, and ben! he’s a london journalist writing a piece on american storm chasing.” you pointed to each member, getting soft ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet yous’. 

“nice to meet you guys!” kate smiled, javi not saying anything. you felt a pang in your heart when javi didn’t seem to take the people you considered to be some of your closest friends. 

“well, who do we have here?” you turned to see tyler and boone walking toward you, a large smile breaking out on your face. “you must be javi, and… kate, right?” kate nodded, shaking tyler’s hand.

“kate, javi, this is boone, and this is tyler owens.” tyler walked to your side, slinging an arm loosely around your shoulder while boone waved, going to put the camera back into the truck. “nice to meet you both.” he tipped his hat to the two. you watched javi closely, he practically had steam coming out his ears at the sight of tyler’s arms around your shoulder. javi had always been overprotective, and you wished he would realize you can hold your own. “we’re headin’ out in a few, ‘kay?” you nodded, tyler pressing a kiss to your temple before jogging over to boone. you looked back to javi who was red in the face, and kate who was clearly shocked.

“javi–” you started, javi pulling you to a quiet spot away from everyone else.

“really? tyler owens?” he spat out tyler’s name like it was venom. “c’mon y/n, he’s an idiot who drives into tornadoes! he doesn’t give a shit about anyone, especially those affected by said tornadoes!” tears welled in your eyes, anger bottling up. 

“oh, and you do? javi! your investors don’t give any shits about these people! they only care about the money! and you, you’re helping them by getting this data!” you wiped at the tears that spilled over, “we help people, javi! we sell the merch to pay for the supplies, and the revenue we make off the streams and videos go to families in need. we just don’t show that part on the internet.” it seemed to dawn on javi that you would have never ridden with the wranglers for as long as you had if you weren’t helping people. “tyler treats me well, and maybe you’d have seen that if you weren't so busy making assumptions about him.” you spat at him before turning on your heel, walking toward the truck, actively ignoring javi’s shouting. 

“you okay?” tyler asked, noticing your rosy cheeks. “want me to beat his ass?” you glared at him, a smile tugging at your lips. tyler was mostly all bark and no bite.

“no, he just needs time.” you reached up, kissing tyler before taking his hand in yours and walking back to the truck. javi watched as tyler opened your door and helped you in, watching tyler stare lovingly at you. and javi knew that he had fucked up.

[poshmina]

A Tale of Two*Very Sensitive* Wings

Azriel X !Fem Reader

Warnings: (18+ Mature) wingplay, size kink, light angst, getting caught

Word Count: 5k+

Background: You are a long lost Archeron half-sister and your dad sends a message asking if your sisters will provide you with refuge. They oblige, bringing you back to the night court to reside with them and the rest of the inner circle. The story begins after A Court of Mist and Fury when Nesta lets slip to you at dinner that Azriel thinks he’s your mate. At first, this shocks you, as you are still human and are not accustomed to the traditions of the Fae. However, as time goes on you’ve begun to feel drawn to him. You spend your time in the Night Court learning healing practices, since you have no magical power and cannot fight with the rest of them. You’ve been staying in the House of Wind with Azriel, and though you see him often and want to get closer to him, he is always quiet and withdrawn, leaving you confused wondering how someone so distant could be your mate?

The floor of the House of Wind shudders as an Illyrian male lands on the balcony. You look up from where you’d been sitting at the table, enjoying dinner, and watch his shadow cross the balcony. You can’t make out his face in the darkness, but you know who it is anyhow. 

Azriel crosses the threshold of the doorway into the dining room, his long wings tucked against his back. He hardly casts you a passing glance as he breaches the room, shadows swirling around him, seemingly not in the mood to chat tonight. You’ve gotten used to the quiet, brooding demeanor of your housemate, and usually you don’t press. Except tonight there’s blood on his face, in his hair, and on his clothes. As he walks, pieces flake off and scatter across the floor, meaning it’s been there long enough to dry. Meaning he likely left his wounds untreated the entire flight here, meaning he risked passing out mid flight and tumbling to his death due to blood loss.

You shove your chair out from behind you and stand, the sound echoing across the hall. “How long have you been bleeding?”

He doesn’t pause, or even look over his shoulder to address you. “It’s not mine.”

By this point, he’s halfway across the room, apparently planning to head to his quarters without having someone check his wounds. That’s when you notice it, a myriad of tears across his wings as if he’d been struck with arrows and then yanked them back out. The blood on his wings is most definitely his own. 

“Azriel!” It comes out as a mix between a shout and a plea. You can tell yourself you don’t really care about him, that you would harass anyone until they got treated, except this is more than medical obligation. You’re beginning to care for him.

He stops in his tracks, but doesn’t look over his shoulder. “Y/N, I’m fine,” he insists. 

You cross the room towards him. “Clearly you’re not! There are holes in your wings. You’re so covered in blood there’s no way even you could tell if there were wounds hidden beneath. You have to get treated!”

He lets out an irritated sigh and finally turns to face you. “Y/N, you don’t have to involve yourself in this. It’s none of your business.”

Gods, you can’t believe him. “You made it my business when you came in tracking blood across the house. Either go see a healer, or let me take a look.”

You don’t know why you’re so insistent. He could be fine. He’s been alive for hundreds of years and surely knows his physical limits. Except you’re so tired of him keeping you at arm's length, so tired of his closed off, brooding attitude. 

He hesitates, jaw clenched, but doesn’t agree. 

“Just let me help you,” you plead. 

For a moment, you think you see behind his mask, the cold exterior he keeps up around you. You think he’s going to say yes.

Instead he draws further on himself and pushes you further away. “I’m fine, Y/N. Worry about yourself.” He turns to disappear down the hallway, but doesn’t get two steps before you’re walking after him. You don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but you’re sick of his games. Sick of waiting and wondering if he’ll ever make a move. If he even likes you. Every feeling you bottled up from the past few months comes to a head, tumbling out of you.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, exasperated. 

He wheels around to face you, unable to mask the surprise on his face, “What?”

“I said what is wrong with you! You’re always irritated, or distant, or avoidant. You actively avoid me even though I’ve done nothing but be kind to you. You act like I’m a thorn in your side even though I have every right to be here in this house with you.” You jab a finger towards the floor to solidify your point. “Do you think I asked to be here? To be taken from my home and thrust into this strange kingdom, with your strange Fae traditions, where everyone is older, and faster and stronger than me?” He blinks, stunned into silence by your sudden outburst.

“Do you think I asked to have you as my mate?”

Immediately, you wish you could take it back. You hadn’t meant for that to come out at all, let alone in such an accusatory tone. Really, you don’t mind the thought of him as your mate. That is, if you could explore the bond together. If he would quit shoving you away. 

His shadows flare, and the scowl you've become so accustomed to returns. “Who told you that?”

“I—” You fumble over your words, “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

He takes a step closer, and all of the sudden you get a very real sense of his height as he towers over you. “Doesn’t matter, you already did. Now who told you?”

You reel to find something to distract him, not wanting to put the blame on Nesta. Your relationship with your new sister is so new and fragile, you can’t drive a wench in it. “I deserved to know Azriel. It’s not like you were going to tell me.”

His gaze flickers, and you swear you see a flash of pain in those eyes. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

The sting of rejection pangs sharp in your chest. He didn’t want you to find out this way, or he didn’t want you to find out at all? All these months avoiding you, acting like he wants nothing more than for you to poof out of his life and return where you came from. You tried to ignore the fear, tried to push it away, but now the reality crashes over you. Your mate doesn’t want you at all. 

“Well now I know and I don’t expect anything from you.” You jab a finger towards his chest. “I know I’m human and I’m weak and you didn’t ask for me either. But it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to me.” You take a shuddering breath, and a weight seems to fall off your shoulder with all of those words out. You realize you’ve moved closer to him and take a step back.

“Nicer,” he repeats, watching you intently. 

“Yes,” you huff. “We don’t have to be anything more than acquaintances. Housemates, even. But you don’t have to be such a dick.” You cross your arms and level him a stare.

He sighs, shaking head in disbelief. “Fine. What exactly does this relationship of acquaintance entail?” One of his wings shudders behind him, and from the wince on his face you can tell it wasn’t on purpose. You look at it pointedly. 

“Letting me help you would be a start.”

There’s a final moment of hesitation, drawn out long enough that you think he might actually turn you away. Except then he shakes his head, and as if it physically pains him to do so, says, “As you wish.” Without another word he turns down the hall to head to his rooms. You take a moment of pause, wondering if you pushed too far. The male in front of you is not just any man, he’s a centuries old Illyrian warrior with power beyond your comprehension. Any relationship with him could be dangerous, acquaintance or no. 

But he turns back to you. “You coming?” And for some reason you can’t help but follow.

—

“Fuck.” He shudders beneath your hands. The blood was not, in fact, entirely his opponents. He had two gashes, one across his abdomen and the other along his bicep. Although his fae blood was already beginning to heal them, you insisted he let you stitch them up in order to avoid scarring.��

You thread the needle through his skin and finish the final stitch, clipping the string you used to sew him up and sitting back to admire your handiwork. You may not have magic, but you quickly excelled in the healing arts. 

“All done,” you tell him. He lifts his head from where it had been bowed against his arms and inspects your work. If he’s impressed or not, you can’t tell. He shows nothing on his face, not even a hint of pain from the wounds still remaining on his wings. 

“Now for your wings,” you shift to stand behind him, biting your lip as you try to decide a course of action. Wings can’t be stitched up, they have to heal naturally, and take longer than most ailments to close. The best you can offer is to apply a numbing salve to curb the pain for now. You’re about to tell him that when he says—

“I can handle it.”

You knit your eyebrows. “I’m already here. You won’t be able to reach behind you. If I don’t numb them you’ll be in serious pain all night.”

Put so plainly you’re unsure how he could refuse. He does anyhow. “I don’t need numbing salve. You’ve done plenty, thank you.” And just like that he dismisses you. Except now that he’s washed the blood from his skin you can see just how pale he is, and with the pain he won’t be able to get a lick of sleep, slowing the healing process altogether. 

You prop a hand on your hip. “As your healing professional I would strongly advise against that.” You don’t understand his reluctance, and every time he says no to help, it only makes you want to push further. 

He looks up at you, and for the first time in maybe forever, one side of his lips quirk up into a smirk. “Healing professional, huh?” 

You shrug. “The closest you have to one, at least.”

He tilts his head back and mutters a prayer to the Mother. “You’re not going to leave until I let you do this, will you?”

“It’s unlikely.”

He gives an exasperated sigh, then leans over the desk he’d been sitting at, baring his wings to you. “Make it quick.” His voice is muffled by the cradle of his arms. You can’t help but smirk at the success. Progress. This is progress.

A few minutes later the house has summoned a jar of numbing salve for you and you are standing over him, preparing to begin your work. 

“This may sting for a moment, but once it settles it will fade.” He grunts in response. “I’ll be gentle,” you add. You scoop a generous portion out of the jar, warming it between your fingers before applying it. You decide to start at the outskirts where the tears are thinner and not as gruesome. Hovering a hand over his wing, you pause for a moment before gingerly spreading the salve on him. He tenses immediately, hissing through his teeth before relaxing as it settles in.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Fine.” His tone is clipped. 

Taking that as permission, you continue along the edges of his wings, applying and waiting for him to adjust before moving to the next. As far as cooperation goes, he is the ideal patient. He doesn’t so much as shift a muscle while you work, and remains deadly silent. If it weren’t for his fists resting on the table clenched to the point his knuckles are white, you would think it was painless. 

Once you finish the outer ring of his wings, you pause. “I’m going to tackle the deeper ones now. Do you need a break?”

“Don’t bother.” His voice comes out muffled, and you notice one of his hands has disappeared into the space between his arms where his head is caged. He’s likely biting at his finger to distract from the pain. 

“Would you like something to bite on?”

 For a moment there’s no response, then his hand returns into sight on the desk. “I’m fine, Y/N. Please continue.” He says as if you’re a nagging insect buzzing at his ear rather than the only person trying to help him. 

With a huff, you dip your fingers into the jar again, and begin to spread the salve near the base of his wings. This time, you aren’t quite so gentle. 

He lets out a strangled sound beneath you, somewhere between a gasp and a groan. Immediately, you feel guilty, and start to take more care with the application, massaging slow, deliberate circles into the muscles of his wings. You can feel the muscles around the tears shudder and relax as you go. He curses beneath your hands. 

You’ve almost reached the last, and nastiest, of his wounds when he abruptly shoves his chair backwards and stands, causing you to lose your balance. You nearly fall on your ass before catching yourself on the desk. 

“That’s enough,” he nearly shouts at the same time you say, “What the fuck, Azriel?” His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he glares down at you. He distinctly seems to angle his body away from you.

“I wasn’t finished,” you argue.

He looks up at the ceiling, anywhere but directly at you. “You’ve done plenty.” Instinctively, your eyes fall to his stomach to double check the work you’d done earlier. Instead, your eyes snag on something a few inches lower.

Your eyes widen as you take in the obvious bulge straining against his leathers. 

Oh.

One of the first things you’d learned about treating the Fae is that wings are very sensitive. They are to be handled with the utmost care, their delicate construction requiring practiced healing applications. However, in all your training, nobody had deigned to mention sensitive goes hand in hand with pleasurable. 

His eyes flare as you look back up at him, cheeks heating. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but words don’t come. He merely continues to stare at you with that heated gaze. 

“I should go,” the words come out of you in a frenzied rush. He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t disagree either. “I just— I didn’t realize,” now that you’ve started, you can hardly stop yourself. “This is all so new to me. I wouldn’t have if I’d known—”

“Now you know.” If he means it to be harsh, it doesn’t come out that way, but rather like a plea.

“I should go,” you say again, but can hardly move a muscle. With him standing there and looking at you like that, with the distance between you so small. You feel as if you're drowning, and he is the current pulling you further under. 

You let out a small gasp as you feel a featherlight touch on your cheek. One of his shadows has crept across the room, and whether he intended it or not, is caressing you gently. Instinctively, you lean into it.

A few paces away, you watch his lips part as he watches you. He doesn’t recall his shadow. Instead, it inches closer, brushing across your lips. You don’t dare move, you don’t dare breathe. 

“Azriel,” you whisper. 

In a moment he’s upon you. The shadow dissipates, replaced by his hands cupping your face, his hips pushing you backwards until you're pressed against the desk. He kisses you with a hunger you’ve never felt before, his lips moving desperately against yours. You let out a whimper as he guides your lips apart, running his tongue across your own. 

With every ounce of self control you have left, you manage to shove him away for a moment. 

“I thought you hated me. I thought you didn’t want me as your mate.” You search his eyes for answers, for the cold, closed off man you’d known up until now.

“Hate you?” He tips his head back and laughs humorlessly. “If hating you means thinking about you every waking moment. If hating you means desperately wishing you’d appear outside my doorway every night. If hating you means not being able to even think about you without—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “If that’s what it means then sure, Y/N, I hate you.”

Your mind reels trying to process what he’s telling you. “You sure as hell acted like it.”

A flash of regret crosses through his eyes. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I wanted to give you time to adjust.”

Faintly, you remember what had happened when Lucien had sprung the mating bond on a newly transformed Elain. She can hardly stand to be in the same room as him, let alone pursue a relationship. 

In a moment of boldness, you reach down and palm him through his leathers, watching as his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. “Consider me adjusted.” You yank him back down to you, crashing his lips against yours. He meets you with the same intensity, tongue and lips and teeth clashing in a heavenly dance. His hand slides up to your throat as he kisses you, holding gently. It’s only when you pull away to gasp for air when you realize his shadows are floating around you, cradling you both. 

Your lips part in wonder. It’s beautiful, but you hardly get the chance to tell him so before he lifts you up on the desk and resumes the contact. His kisses stray from the side of your mouth, to your jaw and neck. He takes your ear between his teeth and tugs lightly, sending shivers of pleasure through you. His hand cups your breast, and when the attention of his mouth lowers to your collarbones, you lean back to shuck your shirt off. He palms your breast greedily, reaching behind you to undo your bra clasp before taking a moment to stare. You feel your cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze, and have the urge to cover yourself again.

“Perfect. You’re fucking perfect Y/N,” he mutters before lowering his mouth to your nipple and closing his mouth upon it, sucking and swirling in a way that makes you arch into him. He gives your other breast equal attention until you're moaning and panting beneath him. 

He retreats to relive himself of his armor. If there’s any remaining pain in his wings, he doesn’t show it. He steps close and positions himself between your legs, peering down at you. You reach out a hesitant hand and hover it over the tip of his wing. He watches your movements with rapt attention, nearly holding his breath with anticipation. 

You brush a featherlight touch along the crest of his wings, and that touch alone is enough to cause him to shudder and groan under his breath. You can’t imagine how he stood still for so long earlier. 

You reach down and tug at the hem of his shirt, wanting it off. He obliges, tossing it aside, returning his attention to you. You take him in slowly, dragging a hand down the hard line of his abs, tracing his tattoos with your finger. He waits patiently, letting you have your fill. Unable to help yourself, you glance down at his hardness again, breath faltering as you take in exactly how big he is. From a distance, it seemed reasonable, but from this close…

He reaches out a hand to cup your face, peering into your eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

Without a moment's hesitation, you say. “Yes. I want this Azriel. I want you.”

You watch relief flash in his eyes before he resumes his movements. His hands go to your waistband, and he unbuttons your pants before leaning in to whisper, “Lift your hips for me, “Y/N.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself so he can slide your pants over your hips and cast them aside. He repeats this motion with your underwear, baring you completely to him. And before you can even consider what’s to come next, he lowers himself to his knees in front of the desk, bringing his face directly in line with where you need him most. He places one long lick from your entrance to your crest, drawing a ragged gasp from you, then pulls away. 

“Y/N.”

“Yes?” Your mind spins, because as he’s talking, his mouth is hovering over you and you can feel his breath as he speaks. 

He dips a finger between your folds, dragging it up to circle your clit. “I’m gonna get you ready now so you can take me comfortably, alright?”

You hardly register what he’s saying, because his finger is moving fervently against you and you can already feel that coil of pleasure within you. You give a short nod in response. 

Then, as quickly as it came, the pressure on your clit is gone. You look down to see him peering up at you, waiting for an answer. What did he say again?

He must sense you drawing a blank, because he smirks and repeats himself. “I need you to be good and do as I say so you can take me fully. Okay, Y/N?” 

“Oh… Yes. Okay,” you nod fervently. It’s then you realize exactly what he’s saying to you. You heard rumors around the inner circle that Azriel had the biggest… wingspan… but you never imagined anything close to this.

Satisfied with your answer, he resumes again, lowering his mouth to take the place of his finger. He circles his tongue around your clit, then sucks gently. You’re already seeing stars when you feel his finger at his entrance and he slowly slides it into you. 

You moan and arch off the desk, hands flying to his head to tangle in his hair. You chance a glance down at him, and the sight of him kneeling before you, wings looming over his shoulders, eyes dark with lust, almost sends you over the edge then and there. 

He begins to pump into you slowly, curling every so often to hit a spot that makes you writhe and moan. You’re just at the crest of your orgasm when he adds another finger. You hadn’t expected it, and the new sensation causes your hips to jerk as you gasp in pleasure. 

“Azriel I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “Hold on a little longer for me, Y/N.”

You curse, trying to dampen the pleasure growing inside you. It’s all too much, and you have to bring your hand to your mouth and bite on your knuckle to keep from coming. He slows his movements for a moment, purposefully torturing you and keeping you on that edge. 

A moment later, everything resumes with increased intensity. He pushes a third finger inside you, stretching you in a way you’ve never felt before. You gasp, shutting your eyes against the pleasure, and when you open them again, he is standing in front of you, never stopping the pace of his fingers. He raises his other hand to circle your clit. The pleasure reaches a new crest, and you find yourself grasping onto the desk just to find something to ground you. 

“That's it. Come for me now,” he whispers, eyes never leaving you as the orgasm washes over you. You shudder as you come down from it, hips bucking against his hand. When you finally open your eyes you find your hand intertwined with his.

He gazes down at you, and the hint of a smile crosses his face. “Beautiful. Fucking perfect, Y/N.”

You blush and attempt to catch your breath as he rids himself of his pants and aligns himself with your entrance. You cast a glance down, taking him in in all his glory. He rubs his tip through your folds and sighs at the contact, before leaning in to give you a kiss. 

“Tell me if it hurts and we’ll stop,” he promises. You nod, dismissing his worries. You sincerely doubt he could do anything to hurt you based on how amazing you’ve felt so far. And regardless, you trust him, trust the rigid self control he’s shown you all these months in the house together. 

You feel his tip prodding your entrance, then he sinks the first few inches in. You sigh at the sensation, tilting your head to steal a kiss. With that for motivation, he pushes in a little further, looking down at you with worry in his eyes. 

“Okay?” he asks.

You let out a breathless laugh, “Better than okay.”

You watch his face soften, and he pushes the boundary a bit further. You look down to watch him sink in, and are shocked to see he’s only halfway sheathed. You can already feel yourself beginning to stretch around him. The feeling is foreign, but not painful. 

When you look back up at him, his face is strained in an expression that nearly looks painful. He’s holding himself back, hesitating to keep a firm grip on that iron self control of his. You reach up to run your hand through his hair, catching his eyes. 

“I’m okay Azriel. I’m not going to break,” you reassure him. 

You can tell by his curt not that he doesn’t believe it. He advances another slow, languid inch, and you buck against him impatiently. 

“Azriel,” you level him a look.

He sighs. “I know. I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re still human and—”

“And I’m okay. This is okay. This is good.” You rotate your hips enjoying the pleasurable sensation it brings. He hisses through his teeth above you, and his hips jerk forward only slightly. You enjoy pushing him, enjoy making him lose control.

But there's still so much of him left, and you can’t stand the delicate line he’s walking. You want him fully, and you want him now. You reach behind him, grabbing his ass to shove him the rest of the way in. You gasp as he makes a strangled sound above you. There’s a hint of the pain he was so worried about, but it falls to the wayside as you're entirely overwhelmed by pleasure. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he finally starts to move freely. Slowly at first, then with increased urgency. He pulls his hips back and rolls them into you, hitting a spot so deep within you it feels like you’re one in the same. You watch as his control slips, and his hips snap into you, inching you backwards on the desk. 

“Yes, Azriel, yes,” you tell him as he picks up the pace, fucking you so hard the desk begins to bang against the wall and your eyes roll back in your head. Fucking Azriel is a sensation unlike any you’ve known before. He fills you perfectly, bending to place kisses along your breasts and collarbones. Holding your hips to slam into you at an impeccable pace. 

He shifts, looping his arms under your knees, and then there’s only air beneath you as he picks you up and presses you against the wall, fucking you into it. You gasp and weave your hands into his hair, tugging lightly. You feel his thrust getting quicker, jerkier, but before he comes he switches you again, bending you over the desk and fucking you from behind. You cry out at the change in angle, and your hands fly to the edge of the desk, holding tightly.

You feel him leaning over you as he places a kiss on your back. “This is what I wanted. Everytime I avoided you, everytime I pushed you away, it was because of how badly I wanted this.” He punctuates the last word with a particularly hard thrust and you cry out as you feel his hand intertwine with your hair. It all becomes too much, and you feel yourself approaching the edge again when he wraps a hand around to your front, finding your clit and sending you spiraling. He fucks you through it, steady, hard, barely giving you a chance to come down before his hips jerk and you feel him finish. He curses, seating himself fully inside you as he rides out his orgasm.

When he pulls out, you are panting and breathless and sated with pleasure. You turn around to see his shadows scattered across the room, filling every crevice and corner.

It’s then that you both hear footsteps coming down the hall. His eyes widen, and he hurriedly steps in front of you to block you from view, covering himself with his hands. 

Cassian round the corner, fury in his gaze. “What the fuck Azriel. The entire city is covered in shadows. Rhysand thinks you’re– Oh.” He stops in his tracks, cheeks turning pink as he lifts a hand to cover his eyes. 

“Cassian?” Azriel says, his voice strained.

“Yea?” His voice sounds choked in his throat.

“Get the fuck out.” 

[clawsdevour]

*❥. ᭄sakusa bf hcs

wc: 0.6k content warning: fluff, slight smut, aged up, post-time skip, mention of praise, not proofread, my shitty writing

note: i tried to research what itachiyama's school mascot was and it's supposedly weasel?? there's no weasel emoji so if ur confused why i put a squirrel... well its the closest emoji that looks like a weasel...

•̩̩͙*˚ ❀⠲⣄🐿️

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to hold every door open for you. He does this because he doesn't want your hands to get dirty since he would probably remove a tissue from his pocket to avoid direct contact with the door handle.

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to get jealous when he sees that a man is either interested in you. He shows his jealousy by placing his hands on your waist to keep you away from those filthy men while giving them his killer death stare.

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to enjoy watching you take care of yourself. He loves just watching you get ready like starting from your skincare, to your hair, to your makeup. If he sees you catching him staring in the reflection of your mirror he'd say something along the lines of 'Sorry you're just so pretty.'

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to most likely not enjoy taking selfies with you a lot even though you really want to since he's aware that he's not very expressive. However he does enjoy taking candids or just regular photos of you, he'd even try his best to capture your angles and lighting.

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to definitely scoff at you when you get sick because he already warned you so many times about germs and bacteria. However, he does take the best care of you even though he's very cautious that he may also end up sick. He knows what remedies to purchase for you to feel better, and would cook you soups that help fight the cold. He also may or may not be sleeping on the couch.. letting you infect the bedsheets alone until you've recovered where he's gonna have to scrub and hunt down each germ when he's cleaning up.

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to overall just love taking care of you. If you mention to him how you have to get up early for an event, he'd wake up a bit earlier than you to cook you a full breakfast to make you have a proper meal. He'd probably also enjoy doing the little things for you, for example folding your laundry. He'd probably think about you in the clothing piece that he's currently folding up, causing him to faintly smile a bit.

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to have your parents intimidated upon first meeting him. However, your parents do warm up to his kind and honorable nature. He enjoys speaking about his love for you, showing them his vulnerable side as his stiff facial features soften.

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to secretly enjoy watching you swallow his cum. Even though he'd rather have you not since it's disgusting, he does think that the sight of you with your mouth open to show him that it's all flushed down is somewhat hot.

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to have you gripping the bedsheets as his pelvis plummets deeper with each thrust. His hard grip on your waist leaves a bruise when he takes his hand off to land a slap on your ass. He enjoys seeing you look back at him with your lewd expression, talking about how good you take him.

-Sakusa, the type of boyfriend to carry you over the shower and continue to fuck you until you're clean. After, he'd even blow dry your hair for you before changing the sheets to some fresh ones to sleep on. Sakusa would enjoy cuddling, even though it's skin-to-skin contact he'd have his head tucked under your chin, enjoying the fresh scent of soap from your shower.

masterlist here

[brucewaynehater101]

TW: mentions death, blood

Here is the angst some of you requested. Let me know if I need to add triggers

He isn't going to make it to eighteen. This is a fact. Tim knows, with certainty, that he isn't going to survive that long.

Being a vigilante means that Tim's life expectancy is drastically reduced. He went from possibly dying of old age as the CEO of Drake Industries to becoming a casualty of The Mission. Tim knows the odds. Dick surviving to adulthood is the outlier, not the standard.

So, Tim knows he is going to die within the next few years. Either his blood is going to stain his yellow cape, or Timothy Drake will meet his tragic end in Gotham's streets. This is indisputable.

He had assumed, though, that he would last at least a year as Robin.

He thought Bruce would've been safe.

Tim had spent so long cultivating his plans and carefully navigating his interactions with Bruce. He pushed and pulled Dick, Barbara, Alfred, and some JL members into Bruce's social support. He helped mend their issues, subtly insisted Bruce upgrades his communication skills, and paved the way for a stronger bond.

He denied invitations to spend the night at Wayne Manor, he feigned being full at requests for dinner, and had ducked away from hair ruffles and shoulder pats. He maintained a childlike gaze, a helpful countenance, and a polite business mask.

In the few months Tim has been Robin, he has worked tirelessly to ensure Bruce would have support when Tim inevitably died. He maintained their mutual professional distance to minimize the hurt his death would cause the Waynes. He had designed everything to his best abilities. Tim is going to die, but he would help Bruce before then.

Bruce wasn't supposed to die with him.

Batman and Robin were trapped in the sewers after a cave-in. Apparently, Killer Croc, wrestling, and unsteady foundations were a recipe for a severely concussed Bat and a definitely not panicking Bird.

It could be hours before the two were found deep beneath Gotham's surface. Hours of someone scouring their last known whereabouts for clues before traversing the maze the city uses for their sewage. It could be hours before anyone even noticed their disappearance. Between Bruce's distress signal being crushed in the fight, Tim's being lost in the scuffle, and them being miles underground, this significantly hindered their ability to call for aid.

It might take days before Batman and Robin are unearthed.

From the way the rubble occasionally groaned and trembled, they didn't have that.

Bruce is physically present, his head is cushioned on Tim's lap, but the man's eyes are foggy. He keeps drifting into unconscious before Robin wakes him up again. Each time the man's eyes flutter shut, Tim fears that would be the last time.

It's fine. Tim's okay. Overall, the kid only has bruises on his skin and a few shallow cuts. He might be panicking, but he's physically okay.

Bruce, on the other hand, has a head wound that's sluggishly bleeding into his eyes and dripping down his face. His ribs are cracked from when the man tried to protect Robin from the tunnel collapsing.

Tim can hardly keep his panic at bay when the man starts to doze again. His hand lightly pats Bruce's cheek as he begs the man to open his eyes.

"Hey, B. You're gonna be alright." Tim's voice trembles slightly, but Bruce is too out of it to notice. "It's not going to be much longer. You have to hold on."

Bruce closes his eyes again.

"Bruce. Keep your eyes open."

At the command, the man struggles to pry his eyelids apart. Glassy light blue eyes focus in Tim's general direction. There's an emotion of the man's face that the teen has never seen before.

"We could..." Bruce's voice strains with the effort to speak. Still, he continues to rasp out, "Tomorrow. We could go to the library."

Although it is idiotic to hope, a part of Tim becomes elated at those words. The entire time Tim's been Robin, Bruce has kept him at a distance. They were coworkers, and Tim was necessary, not wanted. The teen could handle curt responses, long silences, and hasty dismissals. At least the man was frank with his expectations and personal boundaries. He never gave false promises or a fake welcome. Bruce was honest with Tim.

If they made it out of there, the man would keep his promise. The two of them could spend time together as Bruce and Tim, not Batman and Robin.

A soft smile appears as Tim regards his mentor. "I'd like that, B."

Bruce's face becomes fond, and his hazy eyes peer up at Tim. "I am glad you're here with me, Jay."

Tim isn't Bruce's son. He isn't the boy whose ghost drapes itself over the shoulders of his grieving father. He isn't a brawler when he fights, and he prefers sci-fi over literary masterpieces.

Tim has two parents. They hardly answer the phone and are gone for months on end, but they exist. They love Tim, in their own distant way.

Tim knows his name is Timothy Jackson Drake and not Jason Peter Todd.

Yet, in the washed-out illumination of an emergency flashlight, the kid faintly beams at Bruce.

"I'll always be here, Dad."

[colourstreakgryffin]

asks are open!😘 How would L lawliet react with a shy I mean very shy girlfriend shes short about 5'2. And recently joined the task force to help her boyfriend

💕L💕

Omllll yeeessss! Another Death Note request! Let’s go, I like L too and I was waiting for him! Let’s do it!

Lawliet L

L was very against you trying to join the Task Force. This is definitely the most dangerous case in human history and you’re the last person he wants to risk to try solve it. He doesn’t care to risk his own life, but not yours

When L loves something or someone, it’s permanent and it’s strong, he was very against Watari joining, but he knows he needs Watari and the older man is not as included. L is a stubborn man and he won’t fold to your persistence

How did you manage to get onto the Task Force? L had no choice but to let you join, Light already seen you and his hands were tied by the members thinking a new Detective has joined. He couldn’t fly you out since it’d draw far too much suspicion. For the first time ever, the world’s best detective was stunned as he had to agree on terms he didn’t make

L supposes he doesn’t really mind having you around, it’s bad but not as bad. You’re intelligent, your skilled and you know how to handle yourself. Though, he isn’t a fan of you being apart of the Kira case for obvious reasons

Repeat it, L loves short girls so his significant other being shorter than him is like his actual dream. They are cuddle-sized and easy to keep track off. Even with how hunched he is, L is still packing quite the height and he towers you so suspect him to rest his chin on your head

“Aaah~ my favourite pillow has arrived. I am aware that I’m using your head as a headrest, you’re a suitable ‘small bean’ for the task. Why yes, I do remember what people your height are called and I’m called a ‘beanstalk’”

L is not a teaser about height, he’s a helper. You’re struggling to reach something high, he’ll get it for you. He will analyse the situation and suggest using a step next-time but at the end of the situation, he’ll help in anyway he can

L is a introvert so he understands your overall timidity. If you don’t want to be around the others, he will set up a private room for you that none of the members can access, including him if wanted. He has the money and power to do whatever the fuck he wants, and he is the spoiling type of boyfriend

Yes, I mean that L would send you money if you need it, he will rush around the headquarters to find your favourite blanket, he’s out the door the moment you mention a milkshake you’re carving. He will do stuff for you since you do so much for him, by merely being apart of his life and changing from him a glorified machine to a real human

The way you shyly approach him and Light to hand over the documentation files Watari gave to you whilst he was baking, is just so cute. Internal L is laying on the floor joyous at how adorable you behave, whilst external is politely thanking you

L isn’t built with any muscles(besides dem legs for real) but he isn’t above being protective over you, because he is. Light scared you with that one time he impersonated Kira to a horrifyingly good degree, L is gonna calmly argue with him then get into a fight

“Light. Could you please silence your strangely accurate impersonation of Kira. You’re frightening Dokusha— Hm? What reason do I have to ask of such a request? Well. She’s my partner in business and in life, she is important. Don’t do anything like that again”

L is slowly growing accustom to affection, please give him a break if he doesn’t respond or give it back. He does like it, he just isn’t trained nor knowledgeable enough in couple things. He puts research on those topics into his list so he can do better for you

Though, nobody else can do these things with L. Hold his hand, brush his hair, hug him. Nothing like that is allowed for anybody besides you and well to a degree, Watari but that’s different. You are always allowed in his private research room, most of the time, he wants you there besides him as he works

A cute weird thing L lets you do is latch onto his back. He does have a BAD back from the ten+ years of hunching but he loves feeling you clung onto him like a Koala. You are too shy to do it around the members but that won’t stop L from throwing you onto his back himself. He misses it

L keeps track of everything you like, do and more. He basically has a encyclopaedia of you and can recall every little detail. To him, knowing you like the process of scrubbing through hours worth of camera footage, is important as it shows how devoted he is to you

So tell him everything. He won’t forget any piece of info and he’ll write it down later as a needed backup, like he does for everything else non-Dokusha related. There’s two parts of his mind; Detective and Dokusha. He likes the Dokusha section a lot more

L is very loyal. Do you think he has anybody else waiting? Most women call him a freak for his looks and/or behaviour. You’re his one and only, he can’t throw you away, he just wants you sat besides him all the time. Where he can turn around and know you’re still with him

L shares his sweets with you more, as compared to somebody like Light, and you know he’ll get Watari to deliver whatever you want, whilst the other members get only what L requests for them. You are treated specially and he could care less that it makes him seem favouritistic, he is

L has a habit of mimicking you, kinda like a child. He follows you since your word is a lot more trustworthy. When you eat vegetables and meats with a smiley reaction, he is eating it too whilst waiting for your praise (Watari would struggle here, and he is a bit frustrated that his son listens to his gf, not his father

“Good morning— hm? I seem frustrated. Well… I am. Why is that? Don’t pretend like you don’t know the answer to that question, Dokusha. Yes, yes. I understand you fully. You don’t want me to die but this is my profession, and you shouldn’t be apart of this case. It’s too dangerous, you know how intense my feelings for you are”

[rebelliousstories]

Bounty

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @silverose365

Warnings: Fluff, Strong Language, Mentions of Death and Killing

Word Count: 1,386

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When a bounty comes in, Cooper is intent on cashing in. The caps they were offering were worth it. How in the hell does she stay a head of him?

The bounty that came in a little over an hour ago peaked The Ghoul’s interest. A very basic description of a female, but with a unique name; Kitten. Her real name was not known, or just not given. Although if it was known, that would have helped in finding her so maybe people just really did not know.

He waited around her last known location and watched the people move by. Cooper did not see anything out of the ordinary, but people were quick to offer up information to The Ghoul. Kitten was last seen heading west, towards Filly. He set out towards the city and kept an eye out for his target. Checking in different abandoned buildings for a clue, he found nothing.

The day trek to Filly meant he was getting there right as the sun set on the horizon and the lights lit up the city. Howard let his eyes rake over the crowd while people moved out of his way. Ducking into a shop was the hair of a familiar person. His target. The woman stayed in that shop for who knows how long, but Cooper was patient. He just waited for her to return, but when a second hour went by and she had yet to come out, he was starting to lose that patience.

“Hey, Ghoul!” The shopkeeper yelled, stepping out from the safety of his doors. Howard poked his head up and felt it was almost comical how people stopped at the call.

“Have a package for you.” Cooper made his way into the shop, with his spurs clinking, and ducked into where he found the girl he was hunting. A small box laid on the counter, and he examined it while the keeper eyes him wearily. Inside, there was a dozen vials of chems waiting for him. And a note that read;

~Must be a huge bounty to get you involved, Ghoulie. Enjoy your present.

He chuckled as he slipped the note and chems into his saddle bag and went to go leave through the back. There, Howard found her footprints and tracked them through the night. But eventually, sleep did call to him. So he tucked his hat over his eyes and laid down against a boulder he found alongside of the trail.

By month two, even Cooper was questioning his sanity. He had been tracking the target for a solid sixty days and was starting to purposefully hold himself back from capturing her. In the past eight weeks, The Ghoul had taken out two other people that wanted to collect on her bounty, only to be met with the big iron on his hip. And each time, the next day, he found a stash of chems along with a note.

~Thanks for keeping me safe Ghoulie.

~Love knowing I’ve got my own guardian ghoul watching over me from above.

Each time he tucked the notes in close to his chems as a reminder of what he was doing. A couple of times he got to catch a glimpse of her. Very few times though, as she somehow managed to stay a step ahead. Overtime, he thought of this less and less like an unruly and clever contract, but rather like a clever and interesting game to keep him sharp. More little gifts were left for him whenever he got close, or just because he “did not” catch up to her in town. In all honesty, this was the most fun he had in the last few years.

But the small time bounties were drying up, and hers just ket getting bigger and bigger. It was time to close this off, as much as that made Cooper upset to think about. It was just the next day, day sixty-one when he caught a definitive sight of her. Unlatching his rope, and tying a knot, he twirled it round and round before casting the lasso out. It landed snugly around her shoulders and yanked her to the ground. Dragging her in closer, Cooper was puzzled by her lack of fighting the rope off. once she was close enough, he stood over her, with her body in between his feet and her looking at him upside down.

“Damn cowpoke. You just don’t know when to quit.” She giggled, resting her hands against her chest in a leisurely pose.

“You are a real pain in the ass, you know?” Neither one made a move to leave where they were or to do anything about it. That alone made The Ghoul cautious about what she had up her sleeve.

“That’s a kinda mean thing to say when I’ve been leaving you presents and thank you chems along the way.” Sitting up, Cooper scooted away as if she was a wild animal. She slipped the rope up and over her head, before holding a hand out so that Howard could help her up. Ever the gentleman, he reached his own hand down and dragged her up to stand in front of him. She dusted herself off, but made no move to run or hurt him.

“Well, I do appreciate the hospitality darlin’. Although I do have to wonder, since you know who I am, and what I’m here to do. Why you let yourself get caught?” Cooper questioned, eyebrow bridge raising as he quirked one of them up.

“Oh ya know. Just bored.” She replied, looking around. Before Howard could reply, she took off to a house that was no longer occupied.

“You comin’ Ghoul?” Turning around, she only stared at him for a second before going back to the house. It was then that Cooper realized that the sun was setting on the horizon, and he would have to take shelter anyways for the coming night. He followed after her, grumbling the whole way through. It was not too much longer that they were sitting around a campfire sharing some meat skewers that she had snagged from the previous town about half a days walk from where they were.

“What did you do to get such a high bounty, Kitten?” Cooper asked, teeth dragging the meat off of the stick.

“Stole a bunch of caps from some rich bastards that were taxing their people to hell and back. Seventy-five percent of what they made they had to pay to these men. So I just took their money and gave it back to them. They didn’t take too kindly to that,” came her explanation. She was also enjoying the meat. After being on the run for so long, it was the most time she had taken for herself in well over two months.

“Like some sort of damn Robin Hood.” He chuckled, stopping only when she had a confused look on her face.

“Who’s Robin Hood?” Her question made Cooper take a moment before responding.

“Ain’t that some shit,” he grumbled, “Robin Hood was a theif for the people. He robbed from the rich and gave to the poor. Always on the run from the law and the king from which he stole.” Now it was Cooper’s time for an explanation. He watched how her eyes lit up at his mini story. They sat in silence after that for a while; the only sounds being the noises of the desert night and their eating.

“Hey,” she piped up, “what about us traveling together?”

“What the hell makes you think that’s a good idea, Kitten?” Cooper paused in between his pieces of meat to shoot her a ridiculous look.

“Well, you’ve been protecting me this whole time. And I can get you chems and RadAway faster and cheaper than you probably can cause I’m not a ghoul. It’d be perfect.” Now, she was excitedly staring at him over the fire.

“You drive a hard bargain there, sweetheart. What’s the catch?” He replied, finishing off his skewer.

“Forget about the bounty?” She asked hopefully, face scrunching together and voice going higher. Silence once more, but this time it was in thought. Howard thought through the pros and cons of each option; keeping her or turning her in.

“Alright, Kitten. We’ll stick together.” He concluded, watching her face light up in the warm orange light. As they dug in to more skewers, he was certain that he had made the right choice about this bounty.

[comatosebunny09]

what’s done is done (and done again) | leon k.

summary: somehow, you figure you've been here before. and, somewhere far off, he knows you've been here before, too. genre(s): romance, drama, angst, modern au warning(s): female anatomy described, mentions of bodily fluids, dry humping, explicit language, profanity, praise kink, implied character death, mentions of decay and blood notes: it's a fuckin’ time loop. based off this post i made a little while ago. inspired by the time traveler's wife and happy death day. thank you for reading, darling! now playing: if you let me - alina baraz

You’re in the briefing room, fighting for your life. 

Almost face-plant into your notebook a few times. Doesn’t help that it’s warm and dim, and you haven’t had your coffee. 

Your supervisor decided it would be an excellent time to bore you all half to death as if you weren’t already constantly putting your lives on the line. Something about Operational Security violations running rampant throughout your organization. 

Blah, blah, blah.

Of everything you’ve faced thus far, death by PowerPoint would be such a way to go.

“Long night?” bleeds in a voice from your right. Your savior. 

You look at Leon, all wild-eyed, like you’ve been caught doing something nefarious. He smiles in reply, all boyish and unguarded. Watches you like you’ve said something funny or like he could just eat you up. Whatever the context, you enjoy the attention. You always do when it comes from your partner. 

Your face begins to tingle with warmth. But you mask your embarrassment with a half-smile and an elbow to his rib. 

“You would know,” you mouth back, careful not to alert your supervisor. 

Leon smiles a little wider. Chuckles low and abrasive, leaning back in his chair with folded arms. Gives you a nice little view of the veins that live there and the muscle lurking beneath the cuffed sleeves of his shirt. 

He catches you staring in his peripheral, and the smugness he radiates is palpable. No one’s the wiser when he grazes your leg with his under the table. Sets little goose pimples alight on your skin when he pitches himself forward to grip your quad.

You take to messing with some frayed edges of your notebook, tucking your goofy, lopsided smile within its pages. Mind suddenly colors with memories of last night. Labored breaths, sweat, heat, and your tongue coiled around his name. 

Your body hums, and you pinch your thighs together to ward off the pleasant rush of endorphins between. He squeezes and winks, smile lines bracketing his mouth as he returns his attention to the mindless dribble of your boss.

What a long night, indeed.

“Dinner?” Leon simply asks over the blue light of your monitor. 

It feels like more of a statement than a request. Like he knows you’d never deny him as he presses the lid of your laptop closed with a definitive click!

You sit back in an easy slouch in your rolling chair. Cross your arms, looking every bit of smug-read-annoyed, and you eye him warily. 

“Only dinner?”

That grin is back. All dimpled and crinkly-eyed as he props himself against the oakwood of your desk. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the setting sun bleeding into your window, he laughs something guttural. You’re the cheekiest little shit when you wanna be.

“No promises,” he admits with a shrug. Exudes sex even without trying. 

You regard him for a moment. Keep him on edge, though both of you already know the answer. Doesn’t mean you can’t make him squirm with the prospect of your potential rejection. 

You clear your throat after a brief stare down. Feign indifference as you smooth out your sleeves and trousers. 

“Your place or mine?”

Like you’d ever say no.

Your place.

It’s always your place, but you can’t complain. You live on the quieter side of town, tucked away from the cacophony of the city and your nosy-as-all-hell coworkers.

Besides, it’s all cozy inside. Decked out with mood lights and earth tones and enough plants to rival a greenhouse. 

Leon likes it this way. How it distracts him from the bleakness of your jobs. The ever-looming premise of death and decay and corruption. So, you never bother to change it. It’s his little piece of heaven. 

You’re his little piece of heaven. 

Speaking of which—

“Stop it!” you half squeal, half giggle, spatula in one hand, a fistful of soft blonde in the other. 

The sound of your collective merriment carries from the kitchen. Sepia-toned with smooth jazz leaking from the soundbar. 

Leon’s chuckle vibrates your skin. Hands are a searing hot and homely pressure, perched on your waist. Lips blister kisses down the slope of your shoulder, and his hair tickles your neck. 

“Can’t help myself. ‘sides, you had a little sauce on your neck. Had to—” Kiss. “—clean it up for you.” Suck.

“Bullshit.”

“Mmmm, honest,” Leon drawls in a way that makes your knees shake, and you feel the sound of it pooling in your loins. 

He proceeds to do terribly distracting things with his mouth on your neck whilst his hands embark on a journey down your thighs. They bunch up the lace of your dress on their excursion, making way for his fingers to tiptoe between your legs, gripping meaty thigh until your flesh craters between. 

“Leon.” 

You huff out something between a laugh and a pleasured sigh. An eager hand instinctively curls around his nape, and you find yourself mindlessly grinding against him. Eyes shutter closed, head falls back into the pocket of his shoulder. Around a smile, you breathe, 

“I worked really hard on this. You don’t let me finish, I’ll kick your ass.”

That doesn’t deter him. Not in the slightest. Never does, and he snickers something sinister. Eases his grip on your thighs northward until the knuckles of his thumbs graze the seat of your panties. You shiver. Almost say, fuck dinner.

“Thought you were on the menu.”

You snort, gripping the counter’s edge for leverage and shoving back. Leon stumbles a few steps away, all blown wide pupils and a peachy color dusting his cheeks. Looks at you like a kicked puppy. That wobbly lip nearly does it for you.

“Later,” you promise.

Leon has a sweet tooth. You  always  give him dessert. 

It’s a mire of sounds.

Your voice, high and light. Leon’s, deep and abrasive. Your collective laughter and pleasured sighs intermingle in your bedroom whilst music croons in the background.

He’s got you where he wants you. Straddling his lap on your bed like a good girl, swathed in the subtle moon glow of the room. Has his lips latched onto your throat and his hands eagerly mapping out the contours of your body.

Your dress is bunched around your hips. Straps spilling down your arms, head thrown back, lids shuttered. He has this way of whittling you down to incoherencies like no one ever has. 

Who would’ve thought your goofy little Leon could be such a sex symbol?

He grips your waist, encouraging you to grind against him. Hard and heavy, and he radiates heat through the confines of his slacks. He feels so good and big, and you might just cum from the sensation alone. From the proximity. From the dangerous gravel of his voice as he murmurs every level of filth into your ear.

So good for me. 

Already wet, and I haven’t even taken your panties off. 

Naughty baby. 

You might cum before I even get it inside.

You would fully surrender yourself to him—to his palms kneading your breasts and the calluses of his thumbs scraping pleasantly over your nipples—if not for a series of buzzing sounds emanating from your nightstand. 

Again.

“God dammit,” you sigh, trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck that,” Leon husks, licking up the column of your throat. Desperation wades beneath the surface of his tone. Possessiveness. Desire. “Fuck the phone. I want you. Need you.”

It’s hard to argue when he gazes at you like that, with hooded eyes and furled lashes. And he’s drunk off the feel of you. Begging. Dipping his head down to close his lips around your pebbled nipple, and it’s like you’ve been struck by white lightning. 

“Fuh-huck!”

He groans against your tit in reply, matching the undulation of your hips with a roll of his own. You cling to him for dear life, fingers buried in his hair, pussy leaking and swollen against the seam of his trousers, mouth parted, and lips shining with spit. 

Try as you might to ignore it, the insistent humming of your phone leaks through the static of your brain.

“Fuck, Leon, I gotta…I gotta take this,” you gasp, scrambling for the nightstand. Whoever’s calling doesn’t know the meaning of peace. 

Leon doesn’t relent. Has a mouthful of tit, flittering his tongue over your nip and eyeing you wantonly and fucking groaning like you’re the tastiest morsel to ever grace his tongue. 

A familiar voice bleeds through the receiver as you bite your lips against a whine. 

“Hey!” trills your coworker, all shrill and uncomfortably cheery despite the hour. Cheryl from HR. You should’ve known. 

Play it cool. Though it’s exceedingly difficult with the object of your desires fucking you through your clothes. 

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Girl, I think I left my purse in your car.” 

You blanch. 

You picked her up for lunch. Of course, she left it. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Think my ID’s in there. Can’t get into the office in the morning without it. You know they’re tired of me losing that thing.” Sigh.

A groan swells in your chest. You’re at odds with yourself. Slap a hand over your forehead, cursing whatever higher being decided to bless and punish you tonight.  “I’ll go check the car,” you relent. Leon releases a chagrined sound in the background. Pins you with incredulous eyes as he releases your tit from his mouth with a wet pop!

Fitfully, you wrestle yourself free from Leon’s arms. Giggle as you stumble off the bed, and Leon lunges for you. You easily dodge, tiptoeing towards the entrance of your bedroom. Give him a placating smile halfway through the threshold, silently promising to finish what you’ve started once you’re done.

Hurry back, he mouths around a pout. Makes little grabby hands at you, and the furrow of his brows almost makes you clamber back onto his lap. But you’re a Good Samaritan. Sometimes. And you’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t find Cheryl’s purse.

Soundlessly, you whisk through your home towards the garage after fixing your dress. Ease into the driver seat of your car, the door slamming shut behind. You locate her purse on the passenger side floor with laser precision. Hard not to see it when it’s gaudy and pink like that. 

You rummage through it, mindful of its contents. Find her ID soon after, turning over the cool plastic in your hand to confirm. 

“It’s in here.”

She releases a weighted sigh on the other end of the phone.

“I can meet you at the front gate in the morning to give it to you.”

“Girl, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!”

You tamp down a smile. Tuck your bashfulness into your shoulder. Cheryl’s infectiously chipper. A nice change of pace to the depressing humdrum of your profession. 

“Yeah, yeah. See you in the morning.”

“See ya!”

When she hangs up, you ease her purse into your glove box. Nestle it between pistol mags and your badge for safekeeping. 

You glance at your phone. Squint against its brilliance, and it’s a quarter to midnight. Fuck. Another late night.

A quiet smile crests over your lips when you catch sight of your home screen. Of course, it would be Leon. With an adorably cheesy dog filter, and he’s all baggy-eyed and uncharacteristically happy on the screen. You’ve gotta get back to him. Left him all hard and leaking in your bed. 

So, you reach for the crisp door handle, mind abuzz with thoughts of Leon, Leon, Leon.

But then, there’s suddenly an explosion of colors. Yellow and orange seeping into red. A sound that’s deafening and robs you of all thought. White hot pain wading over your skin. And then…

Well, then, there is nothing.

[zerobaselove]

tell me about it | park gunwook

pairing: gunwook x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 792

warnings: none! lowercase intended, not proofread literally At All this is just self indulgent

notes: i started playing a new game today and then decided to write this idk this is so messy and just my thoughts on paper (on a screen? idk) sorry this sucks i needed to let the delusions out

"i'm home!" you heard gunwook call out from the front door, his footsteps approaching your shared bedroom where you sat. it was a rare day off for you, with absolutely no chores or errands to run, you had the day completely to yourself while gunwook went to work. and it was glorious.

"wook! i finally bought that game i was telling you about!" you enthused, hands still gripping the controller as you peeled your eyes from the tv. gunwook wrapped an arm around your shoulder, placing a kiss on your temple before glancing to the tv. "so?" he smiled, "is it everything you hoped it would be? tell me all about it!"

that was one of the things you loved most about your boyfriend; he always wanted to hear about your interests, and actually listened to your useless info dumps. he would even do the same with his interests, and you loved it. watching him go on and on about the new game he was interested in or the new show he had been binging was the highlight of your days. you loved watching his face light up as he talked about a character he enjoyed or a cool plot twist.

and he always returned the joy when it was your turn to ramble on. and ramble on you did.

you gave him a full rundown of the plot so far, recounting the boss fights in great detail, even talking about the techniques you had to use to target their weaknesses or the close calls with death you had encountered during the fights.

"and there's this really cute little cat character! not that that's important really but it definitely adds some bonus points!" you beamed, causing the boy to laugh and ruffle your hair lightly from where he sat beside you on the bed.

"so wait," he started, "you had to fight the robot midair?"

"yeah! it was crazy wook i wish you could've seen the fight! it was so cool!"

he leaned back against the headboard, patting the space between his legs. a silent invitation to sit with him. how could you say no?

you crawled over to his side of the bed, settling in between his legs, his chest becoming your own personal backrest as his arms snaked around your waist. you could feel his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, the action nearly consuming all your thoughts.

"keep playing! i wanna see!" he smiled wide, excited to indulge in this new interest with you and see what had you so absorbed all day while he was gone at work.

you hummed in content before unpausing the game, the loud ost blasting through the tv speakers once again as you adjusted your grip on the controller, picking up right where you left off.

you caught him up on the last few minutes of gameplay before he walked in, rambling on about what you think might happen next as you turned the corner of the next big area to explore.

the two of you sat like that for an hour before you decided to turn the game off at the checkpoint you had hit. despite the game no longer displaying on the screen and the soundtrack no longer blaring in the room, the two of you were rather hesitant to move. but who could blame you?

"i think i might have to try playing that game," gunwook smiled down at you, his hands playing with the rings on your fingers, the controller lost in the messy bedsheets.

you turned to face the boy, "really?" you smiled, "you totally should!" you trailed off, your eyes fully taking in the boy for the first time that night, "not right now though," your voice was merely a whisper, "want you all to myself now."

he couldn't help but giggle at your sweet words, pressing a kiss to your cheek before tilting your head ever so slightly towards him, placing another kiss on your lips. "don't worry, i plan on staying like this for now."

your cheeks heated up at the subtle intimacy, causing the boy's cheeks flush a similar shade of pink, leaving the both of you in a fit of shy giggles as you competed for who could pepper more kisses along each others warm skin.

"i love you," you whispered against his plush lips, feeling them smile against your own.

"more than the game?" he joked, causing you to crack an even bigger smile, "know your place park gunwook!" you teased, causing the boy to lean back, an overexaggerated pout on his lips.

"i'm kidding!" you laughed, "i love you" you placed a kiss on his lips between every word of the confession, "more than anything else in this world."

[silviakundera]

Snowfall ep 1 watch comments

I'm so very ready for patriotic Republican era vampires

Communist vampires lets goooooooo

Big get together of all the important people in town, at an asshole's mansion. Very 1930s. or 1920s. Damn it, someone tell me what approximate year we're in

Everyone knows ML waters his flowers with blood, good job keeping a low profile 👌

Dad of the FL is a rich ass dude w 8 wives, squabbling w the main one loud enough that even chinese opera can't drown it out.

I'm having flashbacks to The Tudors as this guy announces to the crowd that after only having a disabled daughter, he finally has a son to celebrate! Hope he goes the way of Henry VIII with a stinking, puss filled wound that never heals.

Or perhaps he can water ML's garden.

Mr Li is an attractive, smouldering antagonist type guy who wants to win over or kill ML for....mundane reasons? The way our vamp gentleman just paid him zero positive or negative attention, the absolute indifference. Brutal.

ML just fucking hears some domestic violence bullshit and walks out to smoke and casually ruin the hand of abusive mom, then strolls away like a boss. He is THAT kind of cdrama protagonist

Haidong Army are run by some local warlord, I presume. Superintendent Chi? Now that he was so rude to Mr Li they want ML dead and try to kill him 4 different ways. Which the vampire finds v annoying.

Really love how everyone is running around in leather jackets and tailored suits and lighting matches for dramatic effect.

This poor henchman: I ran him over 3 times! Then shot him in the forehead! Then I double fisted machine guns and filled him with lead! Definitely definitely definitely dead!

Abused, blind FL takes a walk in the snow to find a nice place to die. Lucky for both of them, she finds our injured vampire and he very politely asks her to pause seeking death in order to help him out.

Honestly, just what that poor girl needs to give her back some fighting spirit: a project!

Just like in Forever Knight, he has 1 doctor friend. (But probably not an incredibly homoerotic, though censored for television, relationship w his maker. alas!)

Hot antagonist Li is apparently not a total scumbag, just a normal baddy, as he sees a blind teen wandering the streets and stops to help.

But maybe touching vamp blood allowed FL to see for a few seconds???

[berylcups]

La Squadra X Reader: Love Languages HCs

CW: Sex mention, death mention, self esteem issues, masculine provider mentality

Notes: Hey, this one was a doozy! Hopefully my ramblings is understandable! I based this one off of the 7 love languages. the 7 love languages discussed are:

❤️Activity

❤️Appreciation

❤️Emotional

❤️Financial

❤️Intellectual

❤️Physical

❤️Practical

Either way I hope you enjoy! 💜Beryl

source: https://imbetween.org/episode161/

Risotto-🖤

What’s their Love language?: Activity & Practical 

How do they show it?:

Risotto doesn’t get much time to relax but when he does he wants to spend it with you. He’d show you by making an authentic Sicilian dish that you haven’t had before and watch some scary movies afterwards. If you get frightened you can always cling on to him and he’ll wrap his big arms around you to keep you safe!  He’d also be interested in what you’re into. Especially if its something relaxing like painting or sculpting…Maybe even something physical like swimming.  He’d probably be indifferent to videogames. He enjoys watching you play them rather than playing them himself. He prefers story over gameplay, and watching you get frustrated and curse at the tv every time you make a mistake makes him chuckle so he's definitely enjoying himself.

He also likes to show his love through actions. He prefers to take care of the more challenging tasks like doing the oil change on your car, changing your tires, changing the light bulbs from the places you can’t reach, and fixing that leaky pipe. He’ll also take care of some other tasks, instead of you cooking he’ll bring home take out, and make a nice bubble bath for you both to relax in afterwards. If you’re forgetful or have ADHD he’ll remind you to take your medication and write down your daily tasks so you don’t forget anything. He’ll be sure to help you sort out your medication for each day in your pillbox too to help you remember. He has a perfect memory so you’ll never have to worry if you do forget something. He’s always here for you. 🖤

What love language do they like to receive the most?: Practical & Physical 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

He’s always busy with something…what’s a better way to show your love than to take care of him? Make him dinner, run him a bath, do laundry , clean the house, do his paperwork, break up fights between the other guys, and maybe murder on his behalf? Do whatever this exhausted man needs. Just do it. Do it for him. Whatever you take off of his plate he’ll greatly appreciate it! Also you can be assured that every act will be rewarded. He’s very grateful to have you and he's not afraid to express that.

This poor man has never been shown much love so you can bet he’s pretty touch starved. But he’s too aloof to go out of his way to ask for affection so its up to you to give him all the loving he needs. He doesn’t really care if the guys see very small bits of PDA like a quick kiss on the cheek or maybe a pet name or two. He really prefers his affection in private the most though. Take off his hat and brush your fingers through his silver hair and give his head a good scratch, he loves that. Rub his chest and give him lots of kisses, he can’t fight off his blush when you do that! He loves bedtime the most when you’re laying on top of him and he can feel your entire weight on him. It helps soothe him to sleep and puts him at peace even if for a moment in his chaotic life.🖤 

What’s their least favorite form of affection?: 

emotional - Risotto is not a cold hearted person, he just has a hard time processing emotions. When Sorbet and Gelato died he swallowed his grief and tried to move on as if they didn’t exist. He doesn’t have an answer to how he’s feeling right now and how to handle it. He wants to be there for you and to soothe your pain when it comes but he just doesn’t know the best way to comfort you...verbally that is. What he does know though is that he loves you with all his heart 🖤   

Formaggio-🧡

What’s their Love language?: Physical & Appreciation 

How do they show it?:

He’s very handsy when it comes to showing love. It goes beyond hugs and kisses. He loves pinching your cheeks, smacking your ass, squeezing your thighs, and he’s a big groper. 😳 He makes grabby hands and chases you with them laughing like a fucking nutjob. 🙌  

He doesn't care who sees. He lives for the PDA, he loves grossing everyone out and making them jealous that he snagged you and they didn’t. 🤭 

He’s big on the praise and compliments. He won’t give you one minute to doubt yourself because that’s how much he praises you. Did you dye your hair? Get a new piercing? You look hot!  You look a little taller…did you get some new shoes? You look badass! Is that a new drawing you doin’? You’re a good draw-er! He’s always has something nice to say! And don’t forget the pet names he throws on you-. If you didn’t know any better you could almost think he forgot what your name was…but he knows you so well you know that’s not the truth! 🧡

What love language do they like to receive the most?: physical & appreciation 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

Give this man some sugar! Hug him, caress him, kiss him, make out with him, spank him, fuc—you know what he wants! 😳 He don’t care if it’s in public or private, he wants your lovin’. He loves it when you lay your head on his lap while you two watch tv. If you fall asleep on him he’s gonna die from the cuteness. He loves the fact you feel safe enough around him enough to fall asleep near him. 🧡 he likes it too when you put your hands under his mesh shirt and scratch his chest, that will make him purr like a cat, and might make him start acting unwise 😘 so give him scritches at your own risk

Illuso being the shithead he is, loves to make Maggio feel self conscious about his abilities and his stand so be sure to give him lots of encouraging words. Be his cheerleader! (Figuratively or literally he doesn’t mind either way 😅) Let him know how smart he is when he makes a connection during a mission. Let him know how creative and strong his stand abilities are! Let him know how jealous and in awe you are of his skills. Seriously, where does he come up with some of these wild ideas??? Don’t forget to praise him when he does any chores. He’s no slob but he loves flinging his laundry around the place. 😅 Seeing him sort out the dirty clothes and put them in the washer is enough to make your heart melt. He’s thoughtful and helpful so remember to praise and thank him for it. 🧡 His biggest contribution at home is cooking and dishwashing so him doing extra work deserves extra kisses! 💋 

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Intellectual - Formaggio respects your opinions on things but he’s not someone interested in big philosophical discussion or debates. Don’t let his carefree nature fool you! He’s a very smart man but he just doesn’t like to take life so seriously. He’ll ask for your opinion if he isn’t sure about something but big conversations like the meaning of life or the study of _____ just isn’t in his interests. He much rather enjoy the moment of you two being together and enjoying activities with one another! 

Illuso-❤️

What’s their Love language?: Financial & Appreciation 

How do they show it?:

It’s unknown whether he stole it or actually bought it…but isn’t it just the thought that counts? He always brings you things like jewels, perfume, makeup, jewelry…small things that remind him of you. He’s actually very thoughtful ❤️ he got you a shirt that reminded him of your favorite aesthetic the last time. He somehow knows the right size for you every time. He says he knows your body better than you do~ 😘 flirty dork. 

He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to give out compliments that aren’t backhanded, but with you they are very much genuine. Nothing goes unnoticed by him. Did you get a haircut? Change up your makeup? You look gorgeous!-but you always look great regardless.❤️ Did you make dinner? If instagram existed in the early 2000s he’d be taking pictures of the food you made and be asking for seconds! 😋 Did you clean the house? You’re getting a BIG thanks for that- he HATES washing the windows! 

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Appreciation & Physical 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

He doesn’t look like it but once you get to know him he clearly has a weak self esteem. That’s why he puts others down to make himself feel better. ❤️‍🩹 But that isn’t working so show him some love by complimenting and praising him often. Tell him how gorgeous he is, take notice of how much effort he puts into his appearance! Let him know how helpful and strong his stand is. He’s secretly sensitive about MITM being physically weak. Praise him for whenever he decides to help you around the house. He may be smug and get pompous at times but he really loves your appreciation. He may not say it verbally but he will thank you for your sweet words. 😘

Show him your love! He loves seeing the others get jealous seeing you give him a peck on the cheek or if you’re tall enough on top of the head. 🥰 He doesn’t mind some light PDA in front of others but in private please ham it up. Kiss him a lot, snuggle him, smack his butt, whistle at him, be flirty! 🤭 he really loves cuddling on the couch while watching trash reality tv. Cuddle on the couch with a big fluffy blanket while you’re braiding his hair is his favorite thing to do with you. He LIVES for that. 🤩

What’s their least favorite form of affection?: 

activity - it’s not that he doesn’t have interest in your hobbies but he thinks there should be some hobbies that should be spent alone. He thinks time  alone makes the heart grow fonder. And…he thinks you wouldn’t be very interested in his hobby of people watching… 👀  you of all people know how nosey he is! He has a very niche type of hobbies…usually with him hiding in the mirror realm watching unsuspecting people doing embarrassing things. But he’s more than willing to watch trash reality TV with you. 🤭

Pesci-💚

What’s their Love language?: Emotional & Practical

How do they show it?: 

He’s a big empath who’s intune with your emotions. If anything is amiss he can feel it. If you’re nervous or sad he’s here for you. If you’re happy he’s happy! He’ll do anything to make you feel secure. He gives the biggest, warmest hugs. 

He likes to show love through his actions. He does all the household chores: he does the dishes, cleans the floors, dusts, cooks for you, make the bed, do the laundry, and anything else that comes to his mind. He doesn’t want you to worry about a single thing when you come home after a day of hard work. Be sure to show him plenty of gratitude!

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Emotional & Appreciation 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

Show him your support whenever he feels anxious or overwhelmed! The poor boy is always pushed to his limit under Prosciutto’s mentoring. Listen carefully to him if he needs to talk out his frustrations and validate his feelings. Let him know you’re here for him no matter what. 💚 Give him a big hug and wipe away his tears when he’s feeling extra vulnerable. He’s not a mammoni . He’s a strong big man 🥺

Another way to show him love is by showing appreciation often. Compliment him a lot and praise him for nearly everything he does. He has self confidence issues so it’s up to you to uplift him! Tell him how strong he is, how good he looks today, how smart he is, and how helpful he is. 🥰  praise him all the time! Be genuine with it and give him a big hug and kiss on the cheek with it. It will really cheer him up. 💚

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Practical - this sweet boy appreciates your efforts but he doesn’t want you to overwork yourself! Let him take care of you. It makes him fret when he sees you exhausted and trying to wash the dishes. He worries about you overworking yourself and you end up becoming depressed, anxious, or coming down with a cold. If you’re overworked your immune system is at risk and he doesn’t want you risking your health!

Prosciutto-💛

What’s their Love language?: Financial & Emotional 

How do they show it?:

There’s nothing too expensive when it comes to you. Clothes, jewelry, food, and a house? He buys it all! He won’t let you know how much it costs, he doesn't care how little the boss pays him. He has faith in himself and his teammates that they’ll take down the boss and get all that good money. You haven’t seen how bad he’s going to spoil you once that happens ! He doesn’t want you feeling guilty for a single second for whatever he buys you. He believes it’s his duty to care for you. 

He doesn't look like it but he’s your biggest cheerleader. When you’re feeling down he’ll be there to give you one million reasons why you shouldn’t feel bad and that your mental illness is lying to you, and that he’s always here to put you back together when you break down. 🥺 He’s always sincere when he’s trying to uplift you. He does that sweet little forehead press and makes eye contact with you and caresses your cheek while giving you the biggest pep talk of your life. He’ll pep talk from all things small like psyching you up to make that phone call to make that drs appointment, encouraging you to show off your artwork and creative writing online, to training you up for a dangerous mission. He’s your rock and you can lean on him at any time! 💛

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Practical & Physical 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

Helping him around the house is a way to make him feel a deep sense of love. Having a home cooked meal, a clean suit, or freshly sweeped floors gives him peace. He doesn’t expect you to be a house spouse but having one of his chores taken care of after he comes home from a rough mission will give you one of his rare smiles. He’ll be mindful of your hard work by eating every single bite off his plate and help clean it off, take his dirty shoes off at the door so he doesn’t make the floor dirty, and take his dirty clothes to the hamper. He’ll always recognize your hard work and thank you for it!

Another easy way to make him happy is to give him a hug and kiss every time he comes and goes. He prefers to not partake in PDA for the most part unless you two are on a date of course but he gladly accepts physical affection. Sit in his lap while he’s having a drink in his favorite chair and give him a big kiss. That will rile him up 😘 

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Financial - He’s YOUR provider, you're NOT his provider. He wants to make that very clear. He understands the intention of your gesture and he appreciates the thoughtfulness but he’s here to take care of you! He doesn’t want you to worry about a single thing. Not money, not resources, nothing. He’s very “old fashioned” that he feels the need to be the provider as the Dominant partner. He’s not worried about gender roles, he was just raised to believe that the greatest way for a dominant partner to show their love is to provide. And he loves you very deeply 💛

Melone-💜

What’s their Love language?: Physical & Intellectual 

How do they show it?:

He’s very affectionate and drapes himself over you often like a needy lap cat. He’s always wrapping his arms around you, he’s even learned to type with one hand so he can communicate with BabyFace and still hold you. 😅 he never wants to let go! He even clings to you when you’re in the kitchen cooking not caring one bit that he might get burnt. He’s generous with the kisses too but he tries to be mindful of how much PDA you can tolerate. 😘 

He’s not as big of an info dumper as his icy teammate, but he loves to tell you about his progress with his stand BabyFace. Genetics are his biggest passion so he’s going to tell you a lot about how BabyFace is doing when he’s using them and educates you on each step. He will insist on you sitting right up next to him so you can see the screen and he can point around and show you everything! He gets so excited when he finds a bad match, making for a more lethal Junior. He’ll also talk about astrology and how blood types influence love compatibility. He’s so excited knowing that the 2 of you have compatible signs, it reaffirms his belief that you 2 were made for each other. 💜

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Physical & Activity 

What’s a good way to show them love?:

Hugs and kisses of course! He’s pretty easy to read. He loves the skin to skin contact when it comes to cuddling after love making. Just simply brushing his hair out of his face while he’s working just melts his heart! He’ll want you to come over and give him some more love but you gotta remind him not to get greedy~. And because you don’t want to gross out the other teammates…unless that’s what you enjoy doing of course. 🤭 

He wants to know everything about you, your date of birth, blood type, astrological sign, your culture, talents, and hobbies. And he wants you to know the same about him! Try to find as much things you two have in common and bond over it! He would enjoy playing video games, watching documentaries, electronics, and probably sci-fi shows. But don’t forget to show him you’re favorite things as well, even if they aren’t his cup of tea he’ll still appreciate them because they are a part of you. 💜 

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Financial - He loves the thoughtfulness of you trying to care for him but he rather have you save your money! The boss already gives out such little money you deserve to spend it on yourself! That’s what he believes. He feels guilty enough that he can’t afford to give you everything you want so he doesn’t want you wasting your money on him. He does hope one day once the boss's identity is found out and is eliminated he will be able to spoil you rotten. 💜

Ghiaccio-🩵

What’s their Love language?:  Intellectual & Activity 

How do they show it?:

He’s the king of info dumping. Hope you have your listening ears on! Whenever something makes him excited in a positive way or something that he disagrees with he MUST TELL you about it! That’s a huge sign of affection right there! And it’s something he can do in public so he doesn’t feel embarrassment when he does it. It’s a win win! You’ll know the difference between an info dump and a rant easily by the lack of yelling, and he talks a lot faster. 

Another way he shows affection is by showing interest in your hobbies! Depending on the activity he might want to try it. He’ll play video games with you, watch your favorite tv shows and be mindful of any spoilers, he’ll try jigsaw puzzles, try some physical activities he doesn’t usually do like swimming and tennis. He has appreciation for art and your artwork. He may not do it himself because he’s just so impatient but he likes to watch you do your work or do his own work along with you. 🩵

What love language do they like to receive the most?:

Emotional & Intellectual 

What’s a good way to show them love?:  

Be there for him emotionally! This guy doesn’t want to admit it but he clearly wears his heart on his sleeve! (But don’t tell him that or else he’s gonna rant about that idiom 😰) most of the time his emotions are masked by anger but he feels his emotions very strongly. If he’s having an outburst, listen and talk to him and let him know it’s okay. Validate his feelings but let him know that everything is okay. Explain why things are the way things are or the meaning of an idiom if something has him fuming. If he knows he probably will calm down and even if the explanation isn’t enough ,  having someone to listen to you is soothing. Let him know often that you love him because he fears his anger might make you drift off from him. 🩵 

Another wonderful way to show him love is to do as he does-info dump! Tell him about your hobbies, favorite shows, video games, or your favorite animal. He’ll stop right in his tracks and listen to you enthusiastically info dump. He might not understand everything you’re saying but seeing you excited makes his heart melt. He’ll ask plenty of questions about your passion if he isn’t familiar so he can get to know more about you. He will see it as an opportunity to get closer and to have better future engaging conversations about your favorite topics 🩵

What’s their least favorite form of affection?:

Physical- Ghiaccio is a touched starved man but a little touch goes a long way. Too much touch is overstimulating and makes him overwhelmed. There’s a time and place for a loving embrace- like intimate time and sleep time. If you’re feeling down and need a hug or kiss just ask and he’ll give it! He’s mostly just uncomfortable with the unexpected touches. Ask permission and 9 times out of 10 he’ll say yes…in private of course. But he’s no hypocrite, he asks for your permission too. Especially when it comes to intimacy. 🩵

[lust4lyf3]

Strangers (pt. 1)

Pairing: Lee (Bones and All) x fem reader

Prompt: On y/n’s long and winding journey to nowhere, she runs into someone mysterious. He reminds her of her past, something she’s unsure she should pursue, but is unable to fight the urge.

Warnings: mentions of cannibalism, death, blood, smoking

Word count: 6k

watched bones & all and couldn’t help myself !!!

i’m also an ethel cain fanatic so this is heavily inspired by her and her songs, specifically thoroughfare. highly recommend listening.

anyway timothee was so fine in b&a i was eating it up, no pun intended !

* * *

Whoosh.

It's a humid, late afternoon. The sound of cars passing, insects buzzing, and my shoes consistently hitting the ground, one after the other, fill the air. The passing scenery is lush, and littered with deteriorating stores belittled to roadside stops that invade the town.

Indiana isn't where I live. And it won't be where I'm staying, either. I'm just the same as all the others, passing through and then I'm on my way. Though, I may be slightly different.

I keep on trudging, trying to find any place I can stop and get a drink, my sweat beaded around my forehead. I clutch onto the strap of my bag around me, my very few belongings steadily hitting against my leg as I walk.

I look down at my beaten to near death shoes. I couldn't begin to count the places they've taken me even if I tried. I focus again on what's in front of me, trying not to accidentally sway into oncoming traffic getting lost in my thoughts.

I feel tired, but I'm used to it. This is what my life is, now. Going from one place to the other, on my own. I somehow scraped up enough money to take the train, but I could only make it so far. And now I'm right back where I started. On my feet, and in a place I don't know.

It doesn't exactly phase me. I've never really had a place in my life that I called home. So, this is just what I do now. Anywhere but the place I was forced to call home.

Another few whooshes of passing cars, mostly trucks. A few looks from their drivers as well. The state of me isn't horrible, but definitely not the most presentable. But hell, why would I care? They might think I'm lost or something, walking around alone with torn up clothes and an old bag, I get that. But what they don't know is that I'm far from lost.

Finally, I see corner store, a few paces up the road. A type of place that I find a lot of solace in. I keep on, approaching the small, old building with its makeshift gravel parking lot infested with weeds and various litter.

I walk up, but stop before the entrance at the edge of the street. A break is needed to be had. I sit down abruptly, my ass on the road and my shoes in the dirt. I sigh a breathe of relief and take in the feeling of not relying on my feet before fishing into my bag. I poke around, and find my cigarettes, and eventually my lighter.

I pull them out and flick the box open. One left. Good thing I'm at the store. I put the box up to my lips and close them around the singular cigarette, pulling the box away and tossing it back in the bag. I lift the lighter and easily catch a light, no breeze in the way. Much to my discontent, though. I need a good breeze right now.

I take a drag as the light stays at the end, then flick the lighter closed and take it out of my mouth, exhaling. I close my eyes and lean back on one hand. A great feeling, this is. These are the moments I live for. The small ones, where I feel like if I just willed it, I might feel a little bit of heaven.

I open my eyes again, and take in my surroundings. I can smell the grass and car exhaust that add to the ambiance of the outdated building. A few figures pass by in the windows of the lit store. I peer far enough back to see that they have freezers at the end of the aisles. Jackpot. The thought of an ice cold Coke could keep me alive right now.

I take a few more drags of the cigarette and then leave it still in my mouth. I pull my bag onto my lap and rummage around some more, looking for my leftover cash. I find some loose bills and coins, and gather them all up in one hand. I shuffle through them quickly, counting. Not as much as I would like there to be, as per usual. I sigh again, this time not of relief.

It's enough to buy another pack of Marlboro Reds, but that's about it. I ponder what I know I might have to do. I've done it before, but I still don't like it every time.

It's easy to get scrappy when you're out here like I am, something I've noticed quite a bit. I've accepted it's just something you have to get used to. I justify it to myself as being better than what I escaped. I don't think anything tops that.

I finish the cigarette, fling the butt into the ground, and give it a good stomp. I worry that one day my shoes will be so worn that the soles will give out, and I might feel the cigarette on my foot next time. Irrational fear, I would notice before that.

I put the money neatly in my pocket and stand up, slinging my bag back around my shoulder. It's now closer to dusk, meaning I have to find a place to stay, and quickly.

I start walking up to the clear glass doors, and then push myself in. Instantly a wave of air conditioning hits my face and blows through my hair. Another small, heavenly moment. The aroma of the store came mostly from the direction of the freezers, sort of a cardboard-like smell, but comforting nonetheless.

Another curious smell entered my senses, but it almost wasn't a smell. It's more like a feeling, weirdly. But it's faint.

I brush it off, and look around. There's an older woman clerk behind the counter at a register, flipping through a magazine with long nails and chewing loudly on a piece of gum. She didn't look up when I came in. A good sign.

I walk in further under the harsh fluorescent lights and past an aisle. I keep on observing the store, on the lookout for things I want to take with me. I have to travel light, so I only allow myself the necessities.

I peer into an aisle and see a mother with her small daughter browsing the snacks. I peer into the next, a bigger looking man near the very end at the freezers in the back. It looks like he's looking at the alcohol.

I weave in through the aisle, carefully scanning its sides for things I might need. I see way too many things I want, that's for sure. It hurts my heart blowing right past the Twinkies. God, I haven't had one of those in a while.

The feeling I felt earlier comes on a little stronger. I can't help but feel that it is a sort of scent, but I can't really tell. I'm pretty sure I'm just dizzy from not eating, or something.

I move on from the aisle with nothing, proud of myself for refraining from grabbing something extraneous. I walk past the big guy, who definitely smells like he had already downed quite a few beers, and into the next aisle with the toiletries in it.

Near the end of the aisle is a younger looking guy, probably around my age, tall, sort of lanky. Immediately when I see him, I feel the weird sense again. I'm just hoping at this point that my stomach doesn't make some weird, worrying noise. But this time, it feels like it's coming from something external.

I keep walking closer the middle of the aisle, trying to focus on which stuff is on the shelves. The guy comes a little bit clearer into my peripheral view, and I can see that his dark brown hair is dyed red at the ends in the style of a mullet. He stays studying something hanging up in the row.

He seems like the type of person I would've liked to know. I always hung around the more alternative kids in school, and he seems like that type, with his overly ripped jeans and floral button-up shirt. But, I'm on the lonely road for now. I can't stick around anywhere.

I still feel the feeling, the sense, the smell. It worsens as I keep moving down, but it doesn't cloud my mind. I'm still clear-headed, but the scent is definitely present. I can't help but feel a sort of familiarity with it. Something kind of gross that reminds of me of my past. I try not to be reminded of what it is and keep on and on with my scanning.

And then, I spot it. The Holy Grail. Tampons. That is a necessity. I move immediately towards them low down on the shelf. I crouch down on the floor next to them and look for the right ones.

I keep looking, bluffing slightly by pretending to read the labels to get my bag open a little wider. I realize I'm lot closer to that guy now.

In a swift motion, I grab one of the boxes, and quickly swipe it into the bag. I try to think that maybe the guy didn't see it, but I'm not sure how he couldn't have. I reflexively and awkwardly turn my head up to look at him, checking to see if he was looking in my direction. Right as I turned, so did he.

We make eye contact, and the feeling I get is overwhelming. The smell is strong now. And I can definitely smell it. But that's not all that I'm sensing.

In the span of the few milliseconds I'd been looking at him, I somehow felt like there was some sort of energy field between us, an indescribable and sudden thing.

It's almost as if he read my mind, because the look he gives back to me is one of knowing, slightly bordering on confusion. He must be feeling something, too. He hums for a moment, and then nods a little, like he knows what I'm doing and is giving me the clear.

I'm still distracted by the whole interaction, and buffer for a moment before looking back down and swiping another box. How weird is this?

I'm still a little bit overtaken with my thoughts when the big, drunk guy walks into the aisle, holding a can in his hand. I look over his way as he leans down slightly, looking at a shelf a little ways away.

The mom with the kid from earlier then comes out from behind the other row, turning to come into the aisle. She's a little bit close to the drunk guy.

"Excuse me," she says to him, very politely.

"Woah, you tryin' to run me down?" he says loudly, unbalanced-ly turning towards her and getting awkwardly close in her space. She looks at him a little bit confused, and definitely scared, and keeps moving.

"I asked a question!" he rings again when she doesn't respond. She starts walking faster down the aisle. "Hear this, ya dumb hoe!-"

"Hey! Don't talk to her like that-," I quickly say, unable to keep it in.

"Hey!" the dark hair guy from before says behind me, directly after I speak up, almost cutting me off. "You're out of control, buddy."

I quickly turn around and look over at him. He's looking back down at the shelf already.

"Are you with the store, or something'?" drunk guy talks back, obviously perturbed.

"Nah, I'm not with the store, but I'm gonna escort you out of it," dark hair says back overconfidently, now standing up straight and starting to walk towards drunk guy.

"Fuckin' see what happens!" drunk guy shouts, coming closer.

What is this kid doing?, I think to myself. Drunk guy is probably 3 times the body mass of him. But he still approaches.

"See what happens? See what happens" dark hair mumbles tauntingly. "Is something bad gonna happen?" he turns to me and smirks while he says it, almost like a Watch this, and then turns back to the guy.

In one sudden, freak motion, dark hair comes up to drunk guy, and nearly head-butts him, making both me and drunk guy jump. He comes so close, and then moves away at the last second, like some sort of entrancing dance.

Dark hair moves around weirdly like a posturing animal in front of him, like nothing I've ever seen before. Drunk guy stands there for a second, extremely pissed off, before shouting Outside! and pointing out the store. Dark hair quickly runs away from him and out of the aisle, drunk guy hustling close behind.

I stand up from my crouch, trying to look over the row to see where they go.

"We're going outside!" he repeats, angrily.

"You enjoy hassling people, man? Is that what you do on Saturdays when you're done jerking off?" I hear dark hair say as he pushes open the door leading outside into the parking lot. Drunk guy keeps with him, looking more fuming than before.

They mumble something else to each other that I can't hear before fully exiting. I stand there for a second, trying to process what just happened. I luckily saw the mom and daughter checking out and about to leave, thankfully. I'll never understand jerks like that. What's their problem?

I then think about dark hair guy. I really hope he doesn't get beaten to a pulp out there, though I'm pretty sure that's what will happen. He was just trying to help.

I quickly remember what I'm doing in the store, and turn back to the shelf. Good thing is that whatever that was that just happened would definitely distract from the fact that I'm stealing.

Weirdly, I can still faintly smell the strange scent, but it mostly went away.

I lean back down to the tampons to grab one more box, and then, it hits me.

I gasp and drop the box I just grabbed on the ground. The scent. The knowing. I have felt it before.

A brief memory flashes in my mind of my older sister, someone I've tried to block from my memory altogether.

No matter how hard I try to forget about her and my family, I'll never forget what she did.

I shake my head, trying to clear my head. If I wasn't before, I was definitely dizzy now.

I know why I smelled what I did and felt what I did. It had to have been coming from the dark hair guy.

I recalled from the memory that it was when my sister came to me one day, her a teenager and I just a little bit younger. She told me something no kid should even know exists. She said she had urges to do terrible, terrible things.

Which, specifically, was eating people.

I was skeptical and didn't want to believe it for a long time, but that was before other things unfolded and everything went to shit, but it was real.

And the smell.

I had forgotten that there was a certain feeling that I got when I was around my sister, similar to experiencing an aroma, or an aura. I had picked up on it so sensitively from being around her often. And I also had a hunch it might be something genetic. 

But still, I never felt that connection feeling.

But I tried so, so hard to convince myself all of that shit was just a dream. And I still am. And that's part of why I am where I am.

I come back to reality, still standing in the same place.

I quickly pick up the box that I dropped, and move out of the aisle to another one, trying to just continue on with my day. But I'm thinking too hard, all of these drudged up thoughts and repressed memories surfacing.

But mostly, I was thinking about dark hair guy, wishing I knew his name, and thinking about how he looked at me. His chiseled face and shadowy features, but he looked kind. I'm pretty sure his eyes were green. He was really good looking, now that I think about it. Why am I thinking that? Why am I thinking good things about someone who I just found out is a cannibal?

I fight away that thought, but I still can't help but feel like there was something that was strange between us. I recognized the aura, but the connected sensation that I felt was completely foreign to me. It felt otherworldly. And I can't help but think that he felt it, too. It was weirdly comforting.

All I wanted to do was to talk to him, or something. Maybe he would even let me tag along with him, wherever he's going. It's hard being alone out here sometimes, not to mention dangerous. Maybe he even has some money, or a car. I assume he's on the run, sort of like I am. For different reasons, obviously, but I understand his cause.

I at least just want know who he is. And then I'll move on with my life. I just can't stop thinking about what I felt. The connection.

Or, I could just be getting dehydration hallucinations. Honestly, I hope it's that. It would make things a lot less complicated.

Being reminded of how thirsty I am, I move back towards the freezers, and grab a freezing cold water bottle and a glass coke bottle. I slip them both in my bag, maybe a little bit too obviously. I can't really get myself to care much anymore.

I grab a couple random bags of something from the snack aisle, slip that in my bag too, and then move to the front counter. The lady looks up from her magazine.

"Just some Marlboro Reds, please," I say. She looks me up and down for a moment, probably trying to study if I'm old enough. If she doesn't think so, she doesn't say anything, and turns around and grabs the box of cigarettes off the wall, and slides them onto the counter.

"Two-fifty," she says, sounding very unimpressed. I fork the money out of my pocket and hand it over. I give her three dollars.

While she gets my change out of the register, I look out the glass doors that lead outside, hoping maybe I see dark hair guy. I have no idea what could've gone on between him and that guy.

She dings the register closed, and I start to feel the smell entering my senses again. I frantically try to focus my eyes around the scenery outside, searching for any sign of dark hair guy. There's an abandoned-looking building across the parking lot from the store.

"Ma'am."

I turn towards the clerk lady. She's holding out my change for me. Fifty cents.

"Sorry," I say flustered, putting out my hand for the change. She drops it in my palm, I shove it in my pocket, grab my cigarettes, and walk to the door.

I pause in front of the entrance, my hands resting on the push handle. I look out of the glass and try searching more, attempting to follow the scent. It's fully dusk now. Fading pink and purple hues fill the horizon.

Without thinking, I push my way out the door, unable to ignore the scent still closing in on me. The air is slightly brisk, but still thick with humidity. My gaze is fixated on the abandon building as I carefully stalk closer to it, the dusty gravel of the lot crunching beneath my shoes. It seems like it's coming from that general direction.

Before I can process it, the smell gets overwhelmingly strong, my head and lungs almost drowning in it. I pause for a moment, almost hyperventilating. He was close.

A sudden noise comes from the building, a sound like shoes scuffing on concrete. A person emerges from the shadows of a window-less hole in the side of the decrepit building.

Its him. He's not wearing a shirt, and there's blood all over him.

He's carrying a bag, which he quickly throws down once he jumps over the short wall. He crouches down and pulls something out of it, and then turns his head, eyes landing on me. All I can do is stare back. 

We recognize each other for a moment, and then he turns his attention back down to whatever he pulled out of the bag, which was a water bottle. He unscrews the lid, places the bottle between his knees so the water comes spilling out, and splashes it on himself in efforts of cleaning the blood off. 

I realize that he's now wearing a hat. The same one drunk guy was wearing in the store. 

Did he...?

He screws the top back on the bottle, shoves it in his bag, and slings it over his shoulder. He turns in my direction, and stops, looking me dead in the eye. I stand still, the sound of my heart beating consuming my hearing. He slowly starts to stalk towards me, maintaining the menacing eye contact.

He pauses just slightly in his tracks, like he's trying to study me, smell me, maybe, before he keeps walking. I felt hot under his brief stare, like I was under a magnifying glass being angled to the sun. 

He gets closer, and then turns abruptly to the right towards the cars in the lot, his gaze now averted down to his feet.

"He's over in there, like, 400 yards, if you want him," he says, breaking the silence. He points over to the building using his head, still walking.

I keep staring, not sure what to say. I shake my head no, slightly. I guess he did eat that guy. Oh God. Does he think I wanna eat him?

I should probably get far away from him, but I can't shake this weird feeling. I still feel like I need to talk to him, or something. 

Before I know it, I'm moving to follow him, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Could you tell anything? In the store?" I blurt out, not thinking before speaking. My question doesn't make much sense. What I meant to say more coherently was if he could tell that I sensed him, or if he felt the weird feeling that I felt, too. 

Still, he pauses, and half-turns around to look at me. "I smelled you. In the store. I didn't know I could do that," I say again, trying to save myself. Trying to tell him I'm different, too.

Again, he just stares. The same menacing, yet studying, stare.

"I'm, uh, going west for awhile, and I got dumped here by the train. I just stole dinner because, well, I don't have any money," I drone on, attempting to fill the awkward silence, and maybe allude to us being some sort of alliance.  "You're not local either, I guess?"

"Why does that matter?" he quickly responds, almost in a mumble.

I pause for a moment. He's defensive, and I'm not sure what to say. But, at least he said something. It's quiet before I speak again.

"That was nice, what you did for that mom in there," I say, changing the subject and attempting to be friendly, searching for any sort of camaraderie.

Silence, again. Staring, again. He looks confused more than anything. His expression clearly reads Why are you talking to me?

"I'm eighteen, if you're wondering," I add on. I need him to know I'm really on my own, and I'm an adult. I nervously fiddle with the hem of my shorts.

"I was gonna guess younger," he says, in his same mumble tone. Man of few words.

"Thanks," I reply, looking down at the ground, unsure of what to say again. He turns his head and spits on the ground in front of him.

"I don't usually talk to anyone after. I don't actually meet many others. Sorta glad not to," he speaks again, turning on his heel and approaching a blue pick-up truck. His words were so quiet, I almost didn't hear him. He's definitely on the run.

"Yeah, I get that," I say to his now turned back, my feet moving to catch up to him. He reaches into the truck through the open window and unlocks it, clicking open the door. "Except, I'm not really like you. I don't... eat."

He pauses, half-turning again. Staring, again, his puzzled look returning. I stop in my tracks in front of him.

"I can just, sorta, tell when someone does. I knew someone else who did. My sister. So, I'm cool. I understand."

"Huh," he huffs out, his jaw twinged a bit in curiosity. He thought that I was an eater. So, he did feel something. "Still, I'm just saying. I'm not an asshole."

He turns back around and fully opens the car door, starting to put his bag on the seat. We're both silent. He's running, and I'm not sure I can get him to take me with him. I do get it, really. There's not much I can do. Maybe I shouldn't get myself into this mess, anyway.

"You should probably go, anyway. Up close you can see blood," I say, half in defeat, and half in genuinely trying to help.

He turns his head again and gives me a scoff-like expression, almost like a smirk. Like he thinks I might be a little over the top.

"We're fine," he says, and then turns back around, shuffling through his bag.

I look down, and then around at the street and the store, hesitant of what to do. I realize that it's basically dark, and I still don't have a place to sleep. God.

"No, I'm really not sure I am," I respond, semi-absentmindedly, still looking around. I'm worried, now. I might have to sleep next to the dead guy in the building tonight.

He turns to me again. He's put on his shirt and is pulling on the floral one. He looks around for a moment, like he's thinking of saying something he doesn't really want to. There's a hint of sympathy on his face, but mostly reluctance.

"Do you want to get in? For a minute?" he says, his eyes on me now, his finger pointed at the truck.

I look up at him, surprised. He was definitely just trying to get me to get the hell away from him a minute ago. I nod at him slightly, appreciative. His expression is softer now, which I much prefer than the scary one. It looks more like the one he had back in the store.

He then hops into the driver's seat of the truck, and I quickly walk around to the passenger side. He shuts his door and leans his arm up on the edge, looking out the window. I get in next to him, shut the door, and look around the truck.

It's a nice Ford truck, with a bench seat and an FM radio. He averts his gaze from the window to inside, specifically at the glove compartment in front of me. He moves his arm to open it up, his other hand on the wheel. He cracks it open and it makes a loud noise, and his hand brushes up against my knee. He moves it quickly.

He shuffles through the small compartment and pulls out a few pieces of paper, and then holds them up in front of him.

"Barry Cook. 5278 Route 13. Centerville, Indiana. Hm," he reads. His registration?

"Wait, is this your car?" I ask, a little concerned.

"No. It's the guy's," he says, pointing again towards the building with his head. Jesus, stealing his car? I'm still getting used to the fact that he ate him.

"Well, this truck is his. You can't just take it," I say, turned towards him. There's a little bit of urgency in my tone. A little bit of worry, too.

"Everyone's got their rules. That's not one of my rules," he replies, still studying the paper.

I sit back in the seat, a little bit taken aback. I guess there's not much else you can do to that guy. He's gone now.

"What are you gonna do now?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Go to house, probably," he says, looking up from the paper and out at the road.

"His house?"

"Yeah, he didn't have any pictures in his wallet. I think I'll be alright."

"You took his wallet, too?"

"I didn't take his wallet, I took the money out of the wallet. Eight bucks," he says, doing the smirk-scoff again. "I chucked the wallet in the creek back there."

He shuffles some more in his bag. I look around again, still taken aback. I can't be judgmental. I live on the rocks, too. I knew how my sister was. It was something that she couldn't fight off doing. I'm surprised now, but I'd probably be doing some of the same bad things in a couple months time. I never thought I'd ever steal, and look where I'm at now.

I scan outside a little more, considering if I should take the risk and go with him. I mean, he is who he is and does what he does. I don't know if I'm safe. I don't even know his name. I should probably be really scared that he'll kidnap me and eat me, and normally I would be, but somehow, something inside of me is telling me that he won't. And I can't deny that feeling. I also really don't want to sleep outside.

"Do you feel it?" he asks abruptly, breaking me out of my thoughts. I whip my head towards him. Is he a mindreader too? 

He's staring down at the steering wheel, jaw clenched, the red in his hair barely visible in the dark. I take in the question for a second, looking at him. He does.

"Yeah, I do. If you're talking about what I think you are."

He sucks on his teeth, and nods slightly. I search his face for some kind of resolution, like he might know what it is.

"I thought you were like me, but you're not. You're different," he says, still looking down, "I've never met anyone like that. Like you."

My heart flutters in my chest a little bit. He doesn't know. So, then what is it?

"I don't know what it is," I say, looking down at my lap now, suddenly a bit shy. Something about the conversation felt vulnerable, now. I remembered again that I still don't know his name. I look up at him once more. "I'm y/n."

He looks up at me. The shadow of his strong nose casts on his face.

"I'm Lee."

Lee. I like that name.

I felt the need to explain myself to him, why I was out here. I still feel weird at how little we know about each other. He's still looking over at me.

"I'm out here by choice. I ran away from home, in Florida," I say, looking out the windshield momentarily. "Just some fucked up family shit. Sort of has to do with my sister. It's a lot. But it's been a few weeks, and I'm already up here."

Lee looks down at his lap, nodding.

"I get that."

Its quiet again for a moment.

"I thought my sister was the only one," I say, breaking the silence, "Until now." Lee's gaze flickers over to me for a second. "I don't know if I should be surprised, or not."

"There's a lot of us," he says, sullenly. He picks his head up and looks outside again. I feel bad. I can't imagine being in his shoes. I knew what it was like for my sister, and I would never wish that on any being. Let alone 'a lot' of beings.

A wave of tiredness hits me, and I'm reminded again of sleep. I should probably ask Lee if I can stay with him before assuming I can. He's only agreed to let me sit in here with him.

"Hey, do you think you could help me?" I say, and his gaze shifts forward, out the windshield, like he's listening. "I'm new at all this, and, I'm all alone out here. Maybe, I could just, come with you for awhile. Wherever you go. I don't care."

I watch his reaction as his jaw twinges again, like he's thinking, but leaning towards no. But, he's still thinking.

"Look, I won't try to mess with you, I promise. I'll stay away and let you do, you know. I'm not gonna tell anyone or freak out or anything. I understand," I say, almost desperately.

He sighs, and then picks up the guy's hat from earlier off the seat, and puts it on. He turns the key in the ignition, and starts the car.

"You said west?" he asks, and my stomach leaps in relief. I can't help but let out a small smile. He looks over at me for just a moment and sees my expression.

"Thank you," I say, sincerely. I relax a little bit, and realize that I'd been tensed up for sometime. I have a place to sleep now.

"We're going to this guy's house first. And then I'm on the road," he says, starting to slowly pull out of the parking lot.

"Okay," I reply, nodding. I'm a little bit creeped that it's a dead guy's house, but I'm ready to get used to it. I already was at one point in my life. If I'm gonna stick around, I better do it again.

Lee stops at the street, looks both ways, and then turns right down the road. I look out the window. It's crazy the difference in scenery when you're walking versus driving. I'm appreciating it much more in the car. This truck definitely beats walking.

The windows are down, and a slight wind blows through my hair. Another small slice of heaven moment. I close my eyes, letting the cool air and street lamplight cascade over me.

I open them again, and then look over at Lee, his eyes concentrated on road ahead of him. I stare for a second, maybe a little bit longer than I intend to, and I start to see a smirk spread across his mouth. He laughs, just a little bit. He can tell I'm looking at him.

I can't help but smile slightly and laugh, too. I turn my attention back out the window. Maybe we will be friends. I hope we can be.

I shut my eyes again, seeing if I can doze off. The seat is comfortable, and car ride will probably be long. I listen to the summer breeze outside and crickets chirping, and it's enough to almost send me off.

I peek my eyes open one more time, and lean my head against the door. The side mirror is turned inward just enough so I can see Lee in the driver's seat. I watch for a second, and then see him turn his head towards me, once, twice, and then a third time. 

He was looking at me. I don't think he knows I can see him. 

I feel my cheeks getting hot slightly, and then close my eyes again. Another moment. 

I think we might be friends.

* * *

hope u enjoyed !! lmk if u want a part 2

[staerplatinum]

Some of my favorite doodles from my headcanon/redesign concept sheets used as an excuse to list my headcanons about the main six (for an AU that I'm writing)! More under the cut!

Charlie Morningstar:

She's way more hot-headed than in canon, albeit still keeping her cheerful and gentle persona.

She loves food, and she's always hungry. I always loved the trope of protagonists (both male and female, like look at Goku himself, Usagi Tsukino or Minako Aino) and I think it could fit Charlie perfectly!

She loves planning (and this is already canon) and she has a lot of stationary gadgets. "Sure Alastor, you can borrow any pen! ... Not that one! :D" And takes good care of them.

Her birthday is February 29th. I thought that it wouldn't be strange if her birthday ended up being that day if she follows a demoniac calendar...

Vaggie:

It's canon that she likes everything to be clean and organized. I think she would help Niffty with the rooms and everything! They bond!

She and Angel Dust absolutely have BFFs vibes. Before Hazbin Hotel I remember they were meant to be a couple, but with the new canon they're still adorable as best friends and I love the dynamic more. They get into fights but it's never anything serious, they look like a big brother and a little sis, even though sometimes she definitely acts as a big sis to him. Angel sees Molly through her :(

As we know she doesn't really believe in herself, but she actually makes a very good leader!

In my fanfic, contrarily to the series, she was really fighting with burning hate towards the angels that cast her out. She holds a deep grudge and it's hard for her to come out of it. (I want Out for Love to be useful, it's my favorite song ç_ç)

Her name as a human was Agata Flores, she was born the 28th of June in 1993. If we still count 2014 as her death and if she was once a winner that then became sinner... my headcanon is that she died of a hate crime in March 25th 2014, aged 21.

Angel Dust:

He's not in drag 24/7. He really is feminine, but sometimes likes to try masculine outfits too. (which make Husk wonder "why am I staring??")

He's secretly a nerd. Or not so secretly. He owns video games, and especially likes RPGs and life sims.

He overanalyses everything. Well, almost everything but still. He actually likes reading, and this led him to analyse anything that comes into his eye. (Oh, I can't wait to write one of those scenes because I already had fun outlining it LMAOO)

He's probably Charlie's food buddy. Give them some food and they'll be happy (Valentino doesn't like this but get screwed Val, give him food too)

His name as a human was Anthony (canon) Cavallaro and had Neapolitan heritage. He's born in April 1st (and this is canon) 1912, he died of overdose (canon) in October 11th 1947, aged 35.

Alastor:

I loved his pilot persona more than the series', and most of the things are confirmed canon... but I do have some headcanons for him, too! (also yeah I don't think that will be my last radioapple drawing or doodle lol)

We know he either doesn't sleep or sleeps with his eyes open. Well, I imagine him that in the few rare occasions he actually sleeps, his radio works as a mental surveillance "camera". Also, he's a light sleeper and would definitely go "Do you fellows mind? I'm trying to sleep." like the old man he is.

I would like to explore Alastor's feelings for Charlie more, and how he sees her as a daughter. While we may not know if he was telling the truth, I think they both seeked each other as a fatherly and daughter figures in a way. Many in the fandom headcanon Alastor's father to have been shitty to him. If he truly sees Charlie as a daughter, it could be because he would like to be a better father than the one he had, and since he never had children, he grew affectionate to Charlie as such.

He knows how to handle alcohol well, but I like to think that when he's really drunk he doesn't even know what he's doing. Oh, you saw him playing with Angel's Nintendo Switch? He even brought it into his room to continue playing Animal Crossing by himself? He was totally wasted.

His name as a human was Alastor (which is apparently canon, but I wonder if it'll be retconned or not?) Boudreaux-Alexander. Boudreaux was his father's last name, Alexander was his mother's. He didn't like his mother taking her husband's last name and wanted to keep his mother's. He was born in March 7th 1901, and died in August 4th 1933, aged 32, after being shot by a hunter that confused him with a deer and was mauled by dogs afterwards. (Yikes, I'm so sorry)

Niffty:

She definitely has written lots of fanfics about her fellow hotel friends. Especially men. Yet, she loves Charlie and Vaggie too, so they're there as well.

We know both Niffty and Husk have deals with Alastor. She loves them both, I love to headcanon that when she feels lonely and can't sleep well or had nightmares, she either goes to Husk's or Alastor's room to sleep with them. They welcome her warmly ç_ç

Alastor and Husk most definitely know Niffty's story, which is why they care about her so much. She's childish for her age, but it could be tied to a past that only the two of them know very well.

Niffty knew Vox when they were alive. Now I know it could be a weird headcanon since Niffty is Japanese and Vox is American, but if Niffty's work brought her around the world it wouldn't be weird if they crossed paths. When Vox died Niffty was 19, she either saw him die in front of her eyes or something else happened.

As I mentioned in my concept sheets, she used to wear glasses when she was alive so she can't see really well without them after she died. Sometimes she borrows Alastor's monocle, and if we apply the headcanon that he's colorblind, without his monocle not only he can't see anything but can't even see colors LOL

Her name when she was alive was Sachiko Tanaka, born February 27th 1934. She died September 1st 1956, aged 22, there are popular headcanons about the way she died and yikes, if it's true she didn't have a good death either. Not at all.

Husk:

Maybe I'm overanalysing but what if the reason why he grew affectionate to Niffty was because he once had children? Or just one? Either he had a child and was with him but felt like he wasn't a good father or his ex-wife left him because of his gambling addiction and this made him feel guilty, not able to see his child ever again. (I feel bad just thinking about this but ç_ç)

Despite the fact he hates being on a leash and none other than Alastor's, he actually cares about him. If the two were friends when they were alive (including Mimzy), this could explain why he's still around Alastor even if reluctantly. (Sure he says he's forced, but in the pilot Alastor summoned him, so it's safe to assume either Alastor-Husk-Niffty were roommates before coming to the hotel and did their business without telling Alastor, or simply we need more explanations of Alastor's deals)

His name when he was alive was Ivan Goncharov, born January 29th 1900, and died in December 23rd 1967, aged 67. As I mentioned in my concept sheets, he was friends with Alastor and Mimzy when they were alive and he was the last one of them to die. He would often visit his friends' graves when he was still alive :(

[missmarveledsblog]

Not just a flower child huh? ( logan howlett x reader ) part 7

summary : stryker is getting more ready while y/n tries and fails to sneak bub into the school , she meets another and past student of the school while logan is sick of feeling like the butt of the jokes.

warning: not many slight angst but not really this is like a filler chapter some fluff pieces , grammatical errors and spelling mistakes

previous part

 Failure to  an ego that well was too big for the man it belonged to is always a recipe for disaster . especially when the ego was beaten and bruised in every way expected when it was though a different result would happen . a bigger reputation , more power  he wanted more than whatever was giving no matter what , no matter who was broken and beaten in the way , he was prepare to lie and manipulate to get what he wanted. By any means necessary it was going to happen . he watched over the tapes as it repurpose his drive to get her back . watched  her grow in a sequence of tapes that didn’t make him even flinch , not the way she cried and beg them to stop. He watched each power coming to light after the torture she would subsequently pass out from  , watching the wounds he and his men inflicted  slowly fading  but yet faster than the last time “ progress” it was put down to . Then  the tape of that day he watched Her scream , heard their screams the flash distorted in the lense Of the camera  the usual vine now glowing  , the way the flames took hold , he watched As she cut them like butter each man falling to an agonizing death and seemed as She wasn't stopping the sobs and harrowing Cries almost like a mother who lost her child . It was only when he seen Himself , holding gun to the cage she stopped it was almost Touching if she was human that when she was knocked Out .  The fight In her that day died  keeping to the cage like the animal she and rest Of mutant scum were . 

Amusement laced On his face logan watched Her hide the Little kitten In her top tip toe through the main entrance . 

“ y/n dear would you and your new friend come To my office please … i don't mean logan “ charles Passed bye  as she sighed. 

“ two minutes  impressive “ logan chuckled.

“ he is good” she rolled her eyes already thinking of arguments for Bub to stay . Walking Down the hall with the pitiful Fluff ball in her arms as jean And storm passed by giggling . 

“ only you would find someone In need” scott ruffled her hair making her glare. 

“ im not puppy” she Gruffed. 

“ come on sweetheart” logan led Her down the hall as she walked In Holding the little kitten closer to her chest almost pleading with logan to help her . 

“ my dear Please come in” charles Smiled. 

“ in my defense Is place For the forgotten no , the ones in need?”she blurted out instantly . 

“ mutants yes” he chuckled. 

“Who i to say bub isn't mutant , he could be very Special kitten” she stood a little taller . “ he Is baby that needs help to” She added. 

“ actually my dear i think it a good idea all the same but it not to be a habit” charles Smiled softly. 

“ he will die , you wouldn't want him to … wait i can keep him” she stood shocked. 

“ jean and storm are going to get what he needs , and scott is Going to get a vet friend that will help check him over , this is only time though” he added . 

“ you scared me , you hear that bub you have home” she lifted him up only for little mew to coming out as she headed out of the room ready to show the kids . 

“ your getting soft in your old age” logan smirked .

“ she been through too much , it would be good for her” he smiled . 

“ yep Definitely  soft” he laughed . 

“  i think in this case i am , somethings In humanity still have a way of shocking me the low of depravity That poor woman has Suffered an ounce of a soft moment is warranted” he explained , he didn't lie ,when he thought He'd  Seen it all and yet once more it all Was nothing Compared to the atrocities  he had seen her deal with on a daily basis . 

She sat watching a man well she thinks a man  the blue Fur covered him head to toe as she watched Him closely Checking over the kitten. 

“ you are a funny vet” she finally spoke. 

“ you must be Y/n , name is hank mccoy im not a vet  but i am able to check him over one beast To another” he chuckled holding his hand out . 

“what beasts” she asked looking around the room honestly curious  it was oddly  endearing , it wasn't a show  Or a facade she was genuinely curious . 

“ he means him and bub , his name is beast like mine is wolverine” logan explained. 

“ i've met beast he is not one” her head tilted. 

“ and you my new friend  are a breath of fresh air , lets dry him off now ” hank chuckled. 

“ i can do that” she nodded waiting for him to move to the side hold Her hand letting The air  not so heavy Cast over The kitten making him fluffier.

“ remarkable” hank whispered. 

“ she Like a box Of gifts” logan smirked . 

“ he only says that when i ice his beer” she rolled her eyes ready to take the kitten to show the kids . “ or fire up the pit or cigars ” she added. 

“ have they began your training ?” Hank asked . 

“ training? “ she turned brows furrowed. 

“ she not here for that furball , he thought you would be xmen” logan explained. 

“ im not hero material” she laughed understanding Walking out The lab . 

“ she humble huh?” He chuckled . 

“ no she just thinks she a monster think we all can relate to that feeling” Logan stood watching where she once Stood only moment before .

 “ i never though i would see this” hank stood . “ seen what” . 

“ the great wolverine in love”  he patted his Back . 

“ have i not Shown time and time again im not made of stone you know start sick of you all like im an emotionless Asshole” he huffed .  “ let me guess it was a joke huh?” He stormed off sick and tired. 

 yeah he was rough Around the edge not  a suck upike summers but hes proved time and time again he cares , he has feeling just like rest of em . sure he doesn’t show Them often but he's let himself get vulnerable enough to get message across or so he thought did they really Think So low of him. 

“ whats His Name” the little voice called only turn to see y/n crouched all kids not just her own standing around . 

“ bub , he named after good man , yes he grumpy but big heart “ she smiled . “ now i best get him to my room for nap but will bring him out Later ok” she stood cradling the kitten to her chest . 

“  seem she share Same sentiment we all do” charles  seemed to Always  had to appear . 

“ could of fooled me” he scoffed. 

“  you know we care deeply for you logan” . 

“ then why does feel like im the butt Of every joke” he asked  heading off once more .  Walking down the hall  already hearing her voice like his ear alway pick hers in a sea of noise .  he could of been in  the crowd  of a metal concert and he would hear her sweet melody filled voice  like she was talking directly in his ear  . he could tell she was singing , what he couldn’t tell but he had a feeling it was a song her grandmother sang to her . he walking more quietly watching she was singing to the kitten rubbing it’s head as it lay on her bed. Never in his life did logan ever find himself actually wishing he was a “ kitty” . the softness of the touch on the fur , the pure smile on her face as she watched bubs little eyes closing til she went to turn and see logan standing at the open door. 

“ how long were you standing there” she sat up properly. 

“ to hear you singing the lullaby to a cat” he smirked. 

“ he’s a baby cat or not , i sang it to the kids too used to get them to sleep maya really loved it” she smiled watching the kittens steady breathing. 

“ maya?” he asked confused .  

“ she was one of the children that did not make it “ she barely whispered . 

“ i’m sure bub loves it too although i’d say anyone would “ he came more into the room . 

“ maybe i should sing it to you , maybe you sleep” she blinked innocently at him . 

“ here's me thinking you liked my company at night” he arched his brow. 

“ i like your company all the time” she smiled , a genuinely honesty to her words . 

“ well least someone does” he sat at the desk looking down to see the books she had trying to learn to read english , she could speak it  almost fluently but reading it still seemed to be a challenge.  

“ i like your company too sweetheart , tomorrow we are continuing our walk around the park i’m sure we have lots ready to watch bub”. 

“ you know family is what they treat you , family teasing i say my brother is mainly the brawn and no brain , same way they tease you don’t think badly” she finally said. 

“ reading my thoughts ?” he asked hoping she didn’t   and see it all . 

“ i don’t need to read it , i heard you and as you call him hot wheels .. i was being nosey” she shrugged . 

“ yeah well nosey what else did you hear?” he asked almost nervously. 

“ just you giving out , but they do see you as family  , they joke but they care “ she smiled eyes turning to the kitten . 

“ you’re something you know that ,  how are you this nice after everything” . 

“ because i know what the other side is like” . 

“ well  i better get going sweetheart  i’ll see you later  i have to go to the simulation room” he stood feeling less upset and  more himself  which again she seem to bring out of him so easily out of him . it honestly at the start scared the shit out of him and yet in her true fashion she was able to quell that fear instantly she was even able to get him to sleep better after their midnight time together.  

“ simulation room ? how many rooms does this place have” she asked almost slightly shocked . 

“ i mean the professor added more each time it was blown up but hey it gives it character” he walked out the room . 

“ blown up  hey come back here .. what do you mean blown up” she called after only to hear a small laugh travel up the hall . 

Maybe he could run , get out of here and warn her then again it wasn’t just him at risk. If he left here well his family would suffer too , stryker made sure they had everything to lose that’s why his risk wasn’t just something he thought of on a whim it could of had dire consequences . but something told him how his family would see it all , his wife honestly he couldn’t tel her .yet he knew if she did know she would of told him do the same , she hated he worked for stryker , she hated how the whole anti-mutant agenda and it sickened him that why he took the job. He had his own reasons to hate them but even the mutant he hated most subjected to what he watched test subject 0224 or by her name y/n rasputin . no one knew she was a family of an xmen , stryker kept that information to himself til when she was in the cage first she told them all how her brother was a man of metal and steel who would come and save her , that they would all pay. More and more he slowly felt the guilt creep in , his views on mutants slowly changed this  little girl at the time showed him they weren’t all monsters , destructive murdering animals he thought they were . but he had a job to do and over time that job was becoming more meaningless especially when they brought more children he saw first hand how she protected them , how she made sure nothing could get close and yet in a way she made sure she never actually hurt anyone even the ones who hurt her.  DR. Thompson wasn’t there when the dreaded day happened but he seen how she was after it , nothing they could do to her physically made her look more in distress or in despair as when he saw her after it .  everything this woman was made to endure well it had it’s ending point and that risk to get her out well it was worth it all and for once he needed to do the right thing . now he was praying on strykers downfall watching as they  packed up the old lab ready to move to a more secure area  , one he seen no escape from if she was caught again . maybe another risk was needed  as he looked down at the plane ticket for new york .

part 8

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @ayamenimthiriel @mega-kittyglitter-1

[riisume]

Delicious in Dungeon/Dungeon Meshi Tickle Headcanons!

(***DISCLAIMER: I haven’t finished the manga yet- So this’ll be knowing what I know about them from S1 of the anime!✨)

Laios:

- His armor protects him usually.. But when they’re settling in to rest for the night, bro better not do anything dumb

- Laios WILL get tickled if he’s silly! Especially if he says wants to eat a monster that Marcille and Chilchuck don’t agree with…

- He’s QUICK to plead, beg, and bargain to make the tickles stop

- Part of him enjoys it though, it’s very nostalgic for him (tickle fights with Falin growing up!)

- His tummy’s very soft and squish, making it an easy tickle target for grabby hands!

- Laios will usually follow Marcille’s lead on tickling Chilchuck or vise versa when they’re messing with each other

- He loves discovering other’s tickle spots, whether it be purposeful or on accident

-Bonus points if the area that’s ticklish is part of what makes the races visually distinct (ex. Elf and Half Foots ears)

- Laios is DEFINITELY interested in knowing if monsters are ticklish…

- He tries to tickle Izutsumi but usually gets scratched or bitten… He’ll totally try it again later tho

Marcille:

- Getting this out of the way early… Her ears are very sensitive and ticklish because why not? 👏🏼

- If Marcille sleeps for too long, she’s often the target of wake-up tickles (it’s the most gentle and effective way to wake her up)

- She takes very good care of herself, so her skin is soft… Making it more sensitive

- She’s 100% feather ticklish!

- Marcille’s laughter usually gets high-pitched and frantic, even if you’re not tickling a death spot (she panics)

- She won’t hesitate to bonk, hit, or kick if you tickle her so make sure either you’re out of the way or someone’s pinning her

- She’ll likely complain after for tickling her (and making her mess up her hair)

- Marcille loves to tickle Chilchuck the most to tease him here and there

Chilchuck:

- Unfortunately for him, if you’re not another Half Foot, it’s REALLY easy to overpower him (he’s small and very light)

- Chilchuck’s another one with horribly ticklish ears (his neck as well) but he’ll deny both or deflect like his life depends on it

- He’s a frequent target for being tickled by the party given his grumpy nature

- Chilchuck swears PROFUSELY when he gets tickled (in different languages as well!)

- Whenever Marcille tickles him, he’ll usually get revenge or fight back (until Laios helps her and pins him)

- Because Senshi mistakes Chilchuck for a kid, he usually falls victim to Senshi’s cheer-up tickles as well whenever Chilchuck’s cranky or on edge

- Unless he’s provoked, Chilchuck normally avoids trying to start tickle fights with anyone else

- Rougher tickles tend to hurt him, especially on more boney areas like his ribs… So gentler tickles are needed to really get him

Senshi:

- Senshi’s not SUPER ticklish like the others in his party

- Rougher tickles would get good reactions out of him, though

- He’s not very susceptible to gentle tickles

- Senshi’s laughter is deep and hearty! Very enjoyable to hear

- Senshi enjoys tickling the others in the party

- He’s DEFINITELY used tickling against Marcille if she’s being fussy about eating

- Senshi’s worst spot is his armpits (which are unfortunately for him easy to reach)

Izutsumi:

- Yet another party member with VERY ticklish ears

- Laios likely found out about that by accident when he tried petting her there…

- He was fascinated and keeps trying every so often to do it again

- Izutsumi WILL attack or run if you tickle her

- She’s nimble so it’s a bit hard to catch her if she’s expecting it

- Izutsumi has a sharp tongue, so she’ll probably also yell obscenities when she’s tickled and can’t fight back

- Eventually she’ll get curious about tickling the others but she’d likely wait until they try to get her for her to strike back!

[moonlit-witches]

☾ Requiem — Chifuyu Matsuno

☾ Just to Die — Chifuyu Matsuno

❝you learn it ain’t fair by design/so you do what you can/when you’re born into life just to die❞

pairing: chifuyu matsuno x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you meet your new neighbor chifuyu matsuno for the first time

warnings: mentions of death (parental), language, violence, suggestive themes (nothing explicit), questionable morality, reader is lowkey a brat but ya know aren’t all preteens??, one (1) use of y/n, depressive themes (i be depressed so most of what i write is gonna b a lil depressing lol)

word count: 2.8k+

a/n: y'all i haven’t written fanfiction in years so please be mindful lmfao, this takes place right around/before chifuyu meets baji, so he’s his lil asshole self who thinks he rules the world, i have multiple parts to this planned so beware, let me know if you enjoyed! thanks homies!

now playing: [just to die — keshi]

part i

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growing up with a single father definitely had its ups and downs. while you were on your own when it came to figuring out catty fights between jealous tweens who thought that words and hair pulling would affect your social standings, or why exactly there was a bright red stain inside of your underwear for a week straight when you were around eleven, your father stepped up in other aspects of your life. teaching you how to persevere against those that talked down on you with a sharp punch to the nose while avoiding retaliating fists, to making you feel as though you were princess of the universe when he’d walk you downtown late at night. he’d let you swing manically off one of his arms, while his other smoked a cigarette. you remembered glancing up and seeing a wide smile illuminating his face, as you giggled trying to kick at the walking pedestrians, causing him to have to flex and move his arm to avoid the collision.

you remember feeling like nothing and no one could touch you as long as your dad was next to you.

that was until you lost him too — moving into a bustling new city, with an unfamiliar aunt who claimed to be a relative of your long-gone mother and scolded you for the ways in which your dad taught you. one minute you were a happy child with confidence that shined through all aspects of your life including caring about schoolwork, helping your dad around the house, and being kind to those around you. the next, you were transported to the police station instead of walking back home alongside your father as he insisted on picking you up from school every day after work. you remember the flickering overhead lights as they said something along the lines of “you’re dad is in heaven now” to keep the conversation kid-friendly. you remember looking up the real story on the library computer late one night. some bitch stabbed your father and took his money.

your aunt suddenly had her hands full — although after losing both parents, was a wild child not what she was expecting to come out of this situation? especially a family member you had never heard of before your father’s untimely death. from violence, to sneaking out, or stealing anything your pockets could hold; you’d begun a search for any sort of feeling other than despair. cheap thrills seemed to be the best ticket.

you had punched your seatmate the first day of school for asking if you needed help purchasing pencils when she’d seen you chewing on a perfectly working pen. you were banned from the four closest convenience stores to your home, whom your aunt seemed to personally know the managers of as they’d ratted out your little heists to her. you’d even sneak out of your ground floor window to share half of your dinner with the city's stray cats as you couldn’t stomach much of an appetite once your solid footing on the universe had whisked out from under your feet. your middle school years seemed to be shaping into the bane of your existence. 

however, you learned just as quickly that simply because all of the lights had been shut off, it doesn’t stop soft, stubborn flames from flickering in long stale corners.

the apartment complex that you now resided in sat on a poorly lit corner, standing five floors high, and rang quietly with the sounds of mother’s scolding their ruly children while the dark alleys surrounding it smelled of tobacco and skunk, flitting behind the bodies of those that stopped to smoke. most days, following the lengthy and boring school days, you would stay out as late as you could, lying to your aunt that you’d been at cram school instead of running rampant along the streets of tokyo.

even after your father’s death, you’d feel him by your side, especially when you’d walk the streets after sunset with an unlit cigarette sitting between your tense teeth. the bustling streets weren’t as safe as they had been when he’d physically been here, but his somatic skills of protection that he’d ground into you as a child as a way to bound with the baby girl he’d had no intent of raising by himself before your mother had died six months after your birth in a fiery car accident, acted as a shield for your own wondering steps.

this night was no different. although, you’d receive stares from those passing as they searched for an adult figure in your vicinity to explain your late night strolling on this side of town, you ignored them, staring upwards at the crescent moon that followed you around. your lips played with the stick between your teeth, rolling it back and forth, slightly praying for a way out of the situation that is your life now. sometimes, you’d find a sick fuck who’d catcall you from a darkened alleyway, or find a stray cat being targeted by a group of unruly teenagers, which caused you to snap out of your almost unconscious state to beat them back into place.

those evenings, it was harder to convince your aunt that you’d been out at cram school, but eventually she’d tsk her tongue at you and retire back to her bedroom leaving you in the stillness of the living room as the street lights highlighted your bruised knuckles and sometimes brow bone. you’d often wonder in these moments how your dad would have reacted, daydreaming of his bright smiles and praise at his child standing their ground, asking all the right questions to rile you back up, your own smile mirroring his.

“oi!”

an unwelcoming yell alerted you to a group of half a dozen third-years milling about the alleyway beside you. their eyes were already on yours as you halted, tilting your head to allow the nuisance into your eyesight. your eyelids were heavy, your cheek twitching at the sudden interruption. you sighed slightly, removing the unlit cigarette from your teeth, moving it and your hands into your zip-up’s pockets.

“and what the hell is a young thing like you doing out this late?” the seeming leader of the group sneered, stuffing his own lit cigarette out on the ground under his foot. you stayed silent, uninterestedly sizing the growing boys up. they seemed to be dressed the same, in button up long sleeve shirts, with something embroidered on their left chests, although the kanji was too far away for you to read. they must report to someone with outfits like that, you think, righting your head finally and taking a few steps away from the well lit street into the alley.

after a pregnant pause, another spoke up harshly behind the first to speak, asking “you looking for some fun, little girl?” 

your hands removed themselves from your pockets, twitching against the school skirt you hadn’t changed out of since the final bells, slightly aggravated by the placename they’d given you. you were your dad’s “little girl” and now that he was gone, so too was that person. a slight rage beginning to boil under your skin as someone else addressed you as such.

“what’s it to you?” you spit back, rolling your shoulders to try and appear somewhat bigger.

this created a wave of reaction amongst the delinquents; laughter echoing against the damp, cracking brick walls surrounding them. you smirked slightly, somewhat glad that society had made everyone in it believe a small, young girl like you posed no threat to these older schoolboys, much less those that willingly participated in acts of violence such as brawls and beatings. 

once the fit of hysterics had quieted, the one that seemed to lead those behind him opened his mouth, seemingly, to reply to your rhetorical question. you decided now was as good a time as any. your feet carried you quickly forward, watching his face shift from that of amusement, to one of confusion, before your right foot came up to meet the side of his face. you pivoted on your toes, leg still in the air from coming down off his face, and used the momentum to slam the follower next to him square in the temple. taking a step, you brought your burning knuckles upwards, locking a solid hit on a third’s jaw, relishing in the sound of teeth clashing, before facing the one formerly standing next to his leader. you pulled your arm back, and felt your knuckles reverberate against his face as you smashed his nose in.

you turned on your heels this time, figuring you could take the remaining two third-years on at once, as usually those in the back weren’t as renowned in their skill as those between the object of victimization (you, in their hopeful case) and their leader, who laid moaning as blood ran from his ear that you’d smashed against his skull seconds earlier. your calculations weren’t usually wrong, but they seemed to be a bit off, as you watched the other two boys yell as they rushed you from either side.

you let out a small cry yourself, turning slightly to the bigger one, your fist meeting his chest, as he stormed into your personal space. the one behind you yanked the hood of your sweatshirt, choking you a bit as they pulled you downwards, back hitting the concrete with a jolt that had the remaining air leaving your lungs at an alarming pace. the position made you panic, grunting a bit as you held your fists forward, towards the remaining boy as he lunged on top of you. you sucked in a quick breath before his weight landed on you, causing an involuntary oof to escape your mouth. you had managed to get a knee between his chest and yours, as you let out another yell, and pushed with all your weight, forcing yourself back into the ground as the delinquent stuttered in his movements to catch your flailing hands. 

“get off,” you huffed angrily, as a voice in the back of your mind reminded you that maybe you weren’t as invincible as you’d perceived yourself to be. you shook the thought from your head, rearing a fist back to smash the skull of the one on top of you, when a strong vice gripped your wrist, smashing it back into the ground next to your head. you looked up with wide eyes and saw the one you’d punched in the chest catching his breath in pants, holding you down. you became frantic as his other hand wound its way around your other wrist, pulling it away from your chest and above your head as well. a harsh blow to your lower jaw brought you back to the present, as you heard your ears ring, and felt a sting from your upper lip being split by your tooth.

Shit, you thought, mind temporarily blanking, as your vision began to blur with frustration knowing that if you didn’t get out of this quickly, this night would be one of hurt and hell.

“if you wanted to have this much fun,” the one on top of you grunted, a smirk erupting along his ugly cheeks, “you could’ve just asked nicely.”

 you begin puffing, straining your taut muscles aiming to bring your other leg up along the other to force his stank breath out of your face, mind beginning to race at his implications. the one pinning your wrists above your head, struggling to move your wrists towards one another, and you spared a glance upwards, seeing a sadistic glint within his dark eyes as his own mouth formed a toothy grin.

suddenly, his face moved rapidly to his left, disappearing from your view followed by a sickening thunk as it echoed off the concrete next to you. you let a small gasp escape your already open mouth, averting your eyes back to the front of you, watching the third-year on top of you as his mouth transformed from a twisted smirk to a perfect ‘o’ before a fist smashed into his mouth, causing him to collapse face-first against your side.

the added weight made you anxious as you moved your body back, leaning on your elbows as you scrambled. before you’d even turned to see who had attacked the two, another hand was wrapping around your arm, this time yanking you up onto your feet, and pulling you towards the other side of the alley. your breath came back sporadically, sparing a glance behind you at the beaten group of teens who were beginning to rekindle their surroundings, before the grip on your arm yanked you to the right, causing you to trip over your own feet, struggling to keep up with the heightened pace.

after about a minute of combing through side streets, the grip loosened around your forearm, causing you to slow, leaning forward to catch your breath. you lifted your head slightly to see who it was running alongside you, and your eyebrows contorted at the sight of a boy your own age, maybe a year above you, with dyed blonde hair in a faux hawk, curling into itself. before you’d collected yourself to make an attempt at conversation, he was lowering his chest, towering into your face, face scrunched in frustration. “what the hell is wrong with you? don’t you know that they could’ve killed you — or worse?”

his eyebrows were angled inwards, half covering his green eyes, anger raiding from him and onto you, causing you to bristle, standing up straight to counteract his intimidating stance.

“i didn’t need your help,” you scoffed, wiping the side of your mouth, as he watched the blood smear from the corner of your lips and half disappear into the black sweatshirt sleeve.

for a minute he stared at you, disbelief surrounding the situation transforming into an unbelieved laugh. “then what the hell did i just fight those pricks for, huh?” he stared at you with wide eyes, finally turning away from you while shaking his head.

you frowned, crossing your arms. “it was just a small misjudgment on my part,” you muttered without looking at him. “nothing i couldn’t have handled.”

the last part came out breathy and if he hadn't been standing so close to you, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

he gave you an inconceivable side-eye before stuffing his hands into his pockets, beginning to walk off — the same direction you needed to go to return home. you furrowed your own eyebrows in irritation realizing you couldn’t split off from the blonde just yet, and began to trail behind him. he sighed deeply before speaking, “you just moved downstairs, didn’t you?”

you gape in disbelief. how did he know that you’d just moved here?

he shot you a look over his shoulder, before facing forward and shrugging. “you and your mom sure know how to yap about you being out too late, you know?”

your mind reeled for a minute, coming to the conclusion that this boy must live in the same apartment complex you’d recently found yourself home in. and on top of that, he had to have heard the recurring arguments you’d gotten into with your aunt about your punctuality or violent tendencies. after shaking off the questioning thoughts from your mind, you grumbled, “she’s not my mom,” while fumbling for your crumbled cigarette in your pocket.

he turned to look at you, seeing the cigarette between your lips and it was his turn to gape as he asked, “whoa, what the hell are you smoking cigarettes for?”

his hand reached out, seemingly to remove it from your lips and you shifted sideways out of his grasp, humming, “i don’t. just reminds me of someone.”

his fingers returns to his side, nodding as if he understood, before saying, “i’m matsuno chifuyu.”

you huffed, wondering when the hell you’d even asked, before he stopped suddenly, causing your chest to collide with his back, creating a huff to escape you. he slyly looked over at you. “and this is where you tell me your name.”

you gave him a glare back, stepping around his figure to continue home. “(l/n y/n).”

he grinned slightly in satisfaction, matching his pace to yours as you approached the apartment building the two of you reside in. he pulled the glass door open after punching in his access code, awaiting your entry before following himself. you turned to the hallway entry on the right before moving your head to look at him as he moved towards the stairwell.

“thanks,” you said quietly, moving the cigarette to the side of your mouth.

he turned to look at you, giving you a cat-like grin, before you finished your sentence and entered the hallway before you. “by the way, your hair looks stupid.” you caught sight of the grin disappearing as his lips turned into a scowl, as you turned away to hide your own grin.

and thus began your unlikely and somewhat unwanted friendship with the delinquent upstairs.

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