#The burn scar on his hand is my personal continuity headcanon

[vanillabeenflower]

I saw the image and knew what I had to do

Fun fact, at the time of writing this (5AM), I just woke from a dream where someone replies to this post with “this is a grown man…” and I was convinced that I would find it when I looked at the comments. My subconscious literally just told me “this a grown man with a dick and balls.” Where that post about the post-chunibyuu filter clarity

Original:

[orcasoul]

Din Djarin Headcanons:

Touch Starved Din

Warnings: None, just fluff

A/N: Our poor tin can man is so deprived of human touch it breaks my heart. He deserves some love and affection xxx

Word Count: 900

It started so unexpectedly. The odd, accidental brush of an arm or leg while passing each other in the confined areas of the Razor Crest, the delicate meeting of fingertips when passing Grogu back and forth, the playful shove you would give him when he accidentally startles you as he quietly approaches from behind. He'd spent most of his life honing his skills as a Mandalorian, and after years of stealthily hunting people down, approaching quietly is second nature to Din.

He doesn't do it on purpose, but if it means more personal contact with you, then it's definitely worth it. Din can't remember the last time someone had touched him - not counting the physical altercations with bounties or enemies - until you came along. He hadn't realised just how much he needed the soothing tenderness of your touch, something warm and natural.

It had awakened a deep and dormant longing within him, and he'd noticed that the more comfortable you became around him, the more intimate those moments became. Weather it be his hand finding the small of your back in crowded places, or your hand, gently squeezing his shoulder when you bid him goodnight. Din had come to yearn for your touch.

Even through the worn leather of his gloves and the thickness of his flight suit, the warmth of your being would find it's way into his pores, spreading throughout his limbs and filling him with a sense of serenity he rarely experienced. You are like a drug to him. The more he has, the more he wants, needs, craves!

That's why when the faulty wires he was fiddling with zapped him and burned through his glove, he made no attempt to stop you as you removed his glove to inspect the burn. Din's breath gets stuck in his chest as his brain registers the feel of your skin against his for the first time.

Your hands are soft, so soft, skin like velvet, holding his much larger and calloused hand so delicately while applying a bacta patch over the charred area. Thank the maker for his helmet, lest you see how his eyes slowly close in contentment at your attentive ministrations. How can just a simple touch have such an affect on him?

But then again, it's not just a simple touch, it's your touch. Something sacred to him, something that is uniquely you in every way. It grounds him, unsettles him, calms him, frightens him all at once. He can't make any sense of it. Din's eyes open at the sensation of your fingers slipping inside his open palm and your thumb, slowly and ever so lightly caressing the back of his hand, a 'There all better,' whispered lovingly.

That's when he sees it. The longing in your eyes, the small smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth while you maintain a gentle grip of his hand. Maybe you need to feel him too? There's very little Din knows about your past, never pushing for more information than you're willing to divulge. But from what he's been able to piece together, it hasn't been a happy one, and maybe all this time you've been longing for human contact as much as he has.

Din's heart thumps against his rib cage, uncertainty taking root in the pit of his stomach. This is new territory for you both. There is an undeniable shift in the air, thrumming with anticipation. Your other hand reaches for his still gloved one, bringing it to rest next to the other already in your lap, eyes asking a silent 'can I?'

Din swallows thickly, answering with a slow nod. With a reassuring smile, you pull off the remaining glove and place it by your feet. He tries his best to control his nerves as your soft palms and slender fingers continue to explore his hands, tracing over scars that stand out slightly paler against the rich tan of his skin.

Without even realising it, his hands have begun to stroke yours. He marvels at how much smaller they are than his, so delicate looking, fitting so perfectly inside his own. He languidly slides his hands along your wrists and up to your elbows, his entire body alive with electricity and want. Your closed eyes and faint sigh is enough of an indicator for him to continue.

His fingers tremble, slightly as he works his way up to your forearms, then to your shoulders, stopping at the base of your neck. Your next move almost causes Din's heart to stop, as you calmly take a hold of both of his hands and bring them to cup your cheeks, leaning your face to the side so your lips are brushing against his fingers. He could die right now and he'd be a happy man!

He wants you to know how much you've come to mean to him, but words were never his strong point, so he'll show you instead. With a feather light hold on your face he gingerly pulls you to met him halfway as he lowers his helmet, bringing his forehead to rest against yours.

Din had once explained what this gesture means in Mandalorian culture, and the fact that you are now returning that gesture confirms what he had begun to hope; That you want him as much as he wants you. Foreheads still joined together, Din whispers "My Cyare."

[eustasskidagenda]

Eustass Kid x Reader - S/O reacting to his phantom pain crisis

Resume : Eustass Kid is having a phantom pain crisis in front of his s/o for the first time. It's just a headcanon of mine, I honestly think Kid is facing that kind of symptoms since the loss of his arm and only Killer knows about it.

CW : a lot of cursing (from Kid, duh), mention of sex, hurt & comfort.

WC : 1787

______________________________________________________________

It’s your first time sleeping together. Kid is already snoring loudly on his side of the bed, your legs entwined beneath the bedsheets. You’re holding him from behind, in a lovely spooning position. You never thought Kid would actually, like to be the little spoon, but here he’s, sleeping heavily with your arms wrapped around his large and toned bare chest. Despite the peacefulness of the night, the intense and rough sex session you just had and the fresh air of the night, slowly caressing your face through the open window and the sweet moonlight shining on your skin, you’re unable to fall asleep. The whole situation is just new to you and it makes you so nervous. You’re afraid of doing something embarrassing if you dare to close your eyes. What if Kid is disgusted by your face when you sleep? You know your questionings are idiots, but yet, it’s haunting you.

With a low sigh, you nuzzle your head again Kid’s strong back, tracing his scars with your fingers. You love how warm and toned his body feels against yours. And you love even more how Kid’s hair are all sprawl out like a fire halo on the pillow. He looks so beautiful with his hair down, anytime he takes off his goggle, you fall again for him. You gently run your fingers through the red hair. It’s soft, it even surprised you the first time. You never thought someone as tough as Kid could actually care that much about his hairstyle and skin. "Being a punk is a whole lifestyle" as he loves to remind you all the damn time he takes an eternity in the bathroom. 

You smile against Kid's back. It seems like he's a heavy sleeper, not even perturbed by your hand running through his hair. You fondle his face, retrace the scars crossing his eyes, slowly but surely starting to feel sleepy. Just when you can't keep your eyes open anymore, Kid starts to move harshly, almost convulsing. In his sleep, he's cursing and groaning. But not with that usual tough and husky voice. He sounds more… desperate. 

Vulnerable. 

"Hey, Kid, what's wrong?" You ask, but he doesn't answer, still trapped in his own dreams. You turn on the candle lamp, only to see Kid sweating, his face twisted in a painful expression. Your heart twisted painfully. You never thought Kid could look that miserable and helpless. "Hey, please, wake up, it's alright, I'm here," You whisper next to his ear. Still breathing hardly and sweating, your boyfriend groan louder, cursing again and again. A litany of "shit" and "fuck" coming out of his lips. "Killer," he whispers pathetically. 

You hesitate to indeed call his best friend, because you're totally clueless. But when you decide to stand up and look for help, Kid sit up straight in the bed, eyes wide open and his hand wrapped around… nothing. You can't help but notice how red and wet his eyes are. Again and gain, his hand look for something it can't find. "Kid… please talk to me, what's going on?" You try to hide how stressed and afraid you feel. "My arm, it fucking burns," He yelps, short of breath.

His hand continue to look for his missing arm. With a moan of nothing but pain, he grabs his stump, holding back another whine. "Please, talk to me, I don't understand," You hate how you sound: almost begging. In your chest, your heart is racing really fast, almost painfully. What's going on? Seeing your boyfriend in such a suffering is really breaking you in pieces. His burden looks so heavy to carry for a single person. "My arm… it fucking burns… it feels like goddamn electric shock��"

And then, you finally understand. You already heard about it before: phantom pain. Common for amputated victims. Still breathing heavily, Kid try to wrap his hand around his missing arm, but the only thing he can reach for is the emptiness. Even if he hides it with his hair, you can notice some tears running down his cheeks as he lies back on the bed, his body almost convulsing with the pain. "Fuck!" Kid growls. "Fucking arm. Fucking body!" And this is why Kid was always avoiding you sleeping with him. Not because he wasn't feeling comfortable with you. But, because he was scared to have a crisis in front of you. To look fragile, human. But you're together in this mess, and in everything. "I've got you. Just tell me how to help," You whisper soothingly, entwined your fingers with his. 

Kid avoids your gaze, writhing in pain, making a mess with the bedsheets. The sweat drips from his forehead and he bites his lips, trying to shut down his snorting. "Massage the stump. Or wrap it in a warm towel," Your body immediately starts to move, and you gently start to massage Kid's stump. The skin is warm, soft, except along the scars where the touch is more rough and coarse. It's the first time he allows you to touch this part of his body. This man has no shame nor reserve when it comes to nudity, and yet, he never allowed you to touch his stump, always snarling every time your hands reach for his left shoulder. He must really feel bad to let you touch him in such an intimate way. He sits again, his back leaning against the wall and his breathe heavy with the pain. "Fuck," He continues to growl and a drop of sweat slide along his neck. With each shaky breathe, he curses. "I know it's disgusting," He growls as your fingers continue to fondle the stump, trying to soothe the pain. "Why?" He shrugs. "It's ugly," You smile. "Nothing about you is ugly. Just let me help you. Do you feel better?" He shakes his head. "Sometimes, my crisis can last a whole day. Usually, Killer just massage the stump or help me to take a hot bath. Warmth can help. When the crisis is light, he uses a mirror," You raise an eyebrow. "A mirror?" Kid curses again. "Shit! Yeah, a goddamn mirror, it's just some shitty trick to fool my brain," 

He's not doing well, even with your help. Fighting against another spams crisis, Kid growls, eyes wet and body covered of sweat. His hand hit the mattress, his movement full of pain, anger and powerlessness. "Let me help you to take a bath." You whisper, still fondling the stump. It doesn't feel swollen under your fingers, that the tricky stuff with phantom pain. "No way. I hate water, I feel weak in it."

Well, actually, right now, he's already weak and vulnerable. "Stop being a child and let me help you. If a bath can help, then, we need to try."He snarls angrily. "I don't want to look like a shit in front of you!" You gently stroke his cheek. "It's okay, Kid, you're still the same for me: annoying and goddamn loud. Seeing you in such a state would never change how I feel about you." He tries to fight back, but the pain is too much to bear and he just let out a slow moan of pain, more sweating dripping from his forehead. He can't resist anymore, almost breaking down because of the unbearable pain. So when you help him to get up, he just shut up, avoiding your gaze, trying to not fall apart as you lead him to the bathroom. "Ugh," he complains as you lock the door behind the two of you and let the hot water running down the bathtub. He knows what's going to happen and already feels so damn ashamed. He mumbles while taking off his underwear. The bathroom is slowly turning steamy with all that warm water. "Here it is." You help Kid to sit in the tub, and his body immediately starts to soften. You know he will not talk in such a situation, ain't no way for the sake of his pride, he lets you hear how ridiculous his voice sound when the cursed water affects him. 

Nicely, lovingly, you fondle his stump covered of warm water. Kid closes his eyes, his breathe still messy and shaky from pain. He doesn't want to look at you. He feels ashamed by his current state. No one, except Killer, never took care of him like this. Since his childhood, he's used to fight for almost everything. Life makes him tough, pitiless, violent. He had to fight the whole time, only to have the right to stay alive. And yet, you're here, not even disgusted while touching his stump. What has he done to deserve someone as passionate, strong and yet tender like you? Your gentle massage combined to the warm water slowly ease the pain. His breath is less harsh, eyes shut less tightly too. "Want me to wash your hair?" He doesn't answer, just nod as you grab some shampoo to wash his precious red hair. You slowly bend to kiss his temple. Maybe it's bad to have that kind of thoughts now, but Kid looks so beautiful, his naked body all wet, muscles glistening of water, hair down, hair pulled back. Without the eyeliner and red lipstick, Kid looks a bit younger, less tough, but always that damn handsome. You fondle his head, then his tensed shoulders, and finally the stump. "Does it happen often?" You ask curiously and he just nods. "It's calm when you're quiet." He snarls angrily, but keeps his mouth shut. You chuckle and grab his chin, bending for a sweet kiss.

The solace of the minute embraces his chest. He remains quiet, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Later, when you lead him back to the bedroom, he lies back on the bed and finally speaks. "Sorry about this," He groans, hiding his face with his forearm. "Don't be sorry. I love you, even through the suffering. I'm with you, always." 

He just rolls on his side, showing you his back. Yeah, your dear Kid will never be good with talk. Even more than kind of deep conversation. The ones acknowledging he's just a normal human, with failures. You sigh and lie next to him, kissing his stump, just to let him know how much you love him, despite his missing arm and all the phantom pain crisis he'll have to face in the future. "You can sleep with me every night, now." He just mumbles before falling right back asleep.

You can't help but smile against his back, as sleep finally takes you. Through the small open windows, the moon, up in the sky, looks like she's watching the two of you.

End talk : English is not my first language, I apologize for the potential mistakes or weird sentences. My requests are open.

[rexecutioner]

Shadow Knight Headcannons!!

i’m still working of fleshing out my art style so its really inconsistent at the moment lol

(edit: I deleted the art from this post because i hate it, my newer stuff is better and i drew this on in a car)

I also included a fun hc i have and that is that Shadow Knights when they turn into their SK form, the scar from what killed them pulsates and glows, and looks very angry and red and unnatural (Sasha is a fun case, her whole body sort of glows and her hands and arms are completely covered in burn scars, Laurance’s look like metal burns from chains scattered all across his body, but his don’t glow as much because he “died” in the nether, not naturally outside of it, ect)

Also, Shadow Knights have a naturally high body temperature, which Garroth, Dante and Aphmau definitely took advantage of on their “trip”.

Shadow Knights cannot digest food normally, as it just burns up in their body. They do not really have many working organs anyways,(they just kinda sit there) as they are undead. You can still kill premature Shadow Knights, as they do still have blood and wacky ass hearts, but Shadow Knights that have killed their target are un-killable to our knowledge.

A Shadow Knight’s armor is part of them, like a shell of sorts. It is removable, but it's really painful for both the Knight and the person removing it due to how hot it is. No two Shadow Knights have the same armor pattern, it’s alway different in some way, and the patterns can change over time and accomplishments.

More black on a Shadow Knight’s armor usually means they are more level headed, calm, or non violent, though this isn’t always the case. Premature Shadow Knights armor is also usually more black than red, signifying that they haven’t killed many people, if any at all. More red usually means they are more threatening, more experienced, and more dangerous. The armor always has to have at least a little of both. Zenix’s armor is mostly bright red with black undertones, while Laurance’s is mostly black with darker red streaks here and there. Gene and Sasha’s armor are similar, with about an even amount of both, with Gene’s having many jagged blood red strips everywhere, meanwhile Sasha’s fades into a gradient of slightly darker red. Vylad’s armor is also about the same, with a black base and red undertones, but the red on his armor is more desaturated and dull in patterns of light swirls. The red on a Shadow Knight’s armor shines more clearly in the Nether, almost glowing. (Zenix is an eyesore to everyone but Laurance, and only because his eyesight fucking sucks now)

You may be asking, “but Rex, why isn’t Gene’s armor fully red? He’s an actual monster!” To which I say Shadow Knights alway start out with a base color of armor, which is usually black. Zenix is an exception, his base color was red. It’s purely based on chance. The armor usually stays around the same color unless the individual ranks up (kills a lot of people). Gene gained many darker red shades over time, making them harder to see thanks to them blending into his black base, and almost his entire armor is actually a really dark red dappled with blood red streaks.

Will be continuing later!!! I have so many headcanons lol i might draw the armors

[pinkcreamypeach]

Some headcanons of my Mario interpretations 

(The Mario brothers this time)

Mario is a passionate person who wears his heart on his sleeve. He is not afraid to show his emotions and affection, and is able to form strong bonds with others through his openness and vulnerability. However, his desire for love and companionship can sometimes make him vulnerable to manipulation and disappointment.

Mario, as a teen, was a diligent young man who attended boxing classes to defend himself and his twin brother. His metabolism was considerably slower than that of his brother, and he often had difficulty staying in shape. Fortunately, he was able to avoid getting caught smoking weed by his brother, who served as a disciplinarian to the twins. His mother was often permissive, spoiling them with food and love, though their father believed this made them soft. He encouraged them to take self-defense seriously and did not support Mario's decision to become a plumber, a move that Luigi soon followed. Despite his reservations, he loved his sons and hoped for their success.Luigi, as a teen, was a shy and socially awkward teen who nevertheless loved playing soccer with his brother. He suffered a tragic "accident" when bullies caused him to break his knee, which shattered his confidence and forced him to give up sports completely. The trauma caused him to seek solace in books and withdraw from social interactions, making it difficult for him to make friends. He did, however, form meaningful relationships with girls, which made him feel grateful.

The Mario brothers have curly hair; Luigi's hair is wavy and curly, while Mario's hair type is curly and short. Mario used to straighten his hair because of his insecurities about his acne and slightly chubby build. He became obsessed with the handkerchief that Peach gave him after meeting her one night - a fascination that lasted for months as he continued to draw blonde-haired individuals in his sketchbooks. Mario's obsession became a topic of conversation for his uncle, who made light jokes about the teen's attachment to the blonde girl he had met only once.Luigi's "friends" were fake, as their true colors began to show in time. Luigi's mother constantly warned him about their negative influence. After they pranked Luigi and left him to clean up the mess, Luigi's trust in others gradually dissolved. He struggled to make new friends until his knee injury, when he met some supportive individuals at the hospital. These new connections helped him through the difficult months of recovery.

My Mario brothers are POC with tannish-brown, rich skin tone that's a shade of bronze. Mario's eyes gleam with a warm, brown hue, and Luigi's eyes have a cool shade of blue-gray. Both Mario and Luigi have dark brown hair that complement their features perfectly. As for their body types, Luigi has a slender build with a hint of chubbiness while Mario has a chubby, muscular physique. Mario's skin is slightly rough, with scars and small burn marks that serve as a reminder of his past endeavors. Luigi, on the other hand, has lightning scars on his skin. Luigi's hair reaches all the way down his back, making it the perfect length for braiding or putting up in a ponytail. Mario, on the other hand, prefers to keep his hair above his shoulders with sideburns framing his face.

Mario's aversion towards mushrooms is actually due to him being what one would call a "picky eater." His mother would frequently try to make him enjoy eating the fungi, but he would either reject or even vomit them. Mario would go to great lengths to avoid eating mushrooms, including hiding them from his twin brother. Luigi, on the other hand, wasn't fond of mushrooms because of their appearance, but a delicious filling inside a roasted mushroom changed his mind and now he loves eating them. In fact, mushrooms have become his favorite comfort food, second only to the cinnamon rolls that his father occasionally makes for him.

But Mario's body insecurity is not something he lets show. Underneath his overly confident attitude, he has body issues that he tries to hide with his positive attitude. However, Mario always hypes his brother up when he feels uncomfortable. Luigi wishes to do the same for him, but Mario never allows it, feeling that he would only be a burden. The twin brothers both have anxiety issues, although Luigi's are more obvious than Mario's. It takes a lot for Mario to feel comfortable wearing shorts, even in the summer. However, his confidence grows when Princess Peach compliments his appearance. On the other hand, Luigi prefers to wear comfortable clothing and has no problem showing some skin, but is more shy about exposing his chest.

Mario is a hopeless romantic at heart. He is easily swayed by his emotions and is prone to falling in love at first sight. When he does, he quickly embarks on relationships with the hope of finding true love. However, these relationships usually end in heartbreak after just a few weeks, leaving Mario feeling unworthy of real affection. Despite the constant cycle of failed relationships, Mario's deep desire for love and companionship remains undiminished. He is even willing to sing cheesy love songs and publicly display his affection for his partners.Mario is a passionate person who wears his heart on his sleeve. He is not afraid to show his emotions and affection, and is able to form strong bonds with others through his openness and vulnerability. However, his desire for love and companionship can sometimes make him vulnerable to manipulation and disappointment.Mario's romantic tendencies are quite different from those of his brother Luigi. Although Luigi does have a softer side, he is more focused on forming deep platonic friendships than on finding a romantic partner. However, he has even been known to develop crushes on fictional characters and occasionally in real life. When he does, Luigi is quite shy and awkward, often stuttering and struggling to communicate with the object of his affection.

They share a strong sibling bond, with Luigi always keeping Mario's secrets. Luigi sometimes protects Mario, even going against Mario's wishes to ensure his safety. Mario, being protective himself, is vigilant about Luigi's well-being, even becoming frantic if he spots a red mark on Luigi's face. Mario, despite being a teenager at the time, got in trouble for fighting in school, and this behavior didn't change much as he grew older. Mario has a strong protective instinct for his friends and becomes a different person when his loved ones are in harm's way. He is willing to risk his own body against his instincts to ensure their well-being, going so far as to ignore the pain and exhaustion. Luigi worries about losing his brother, as Mario's recklessness often puts him in dangerous situations, and he struggles to keep up with his brother's energy. Mario feels guilty seeing the scars on Luigi's body, even though Luigi tries to downplay their significance. The twins care for each other and understand they would both be lost without each other. 

[That's it for now. Until I think of more]

@bberetd @peaches2217 @keylovesstuff @sykomuffinrulez @supergay-64

[vodika-vibes]

Do you happen to have any personal hcs for how Fox and Hound (not like the movie lol) might look under their helmets? Since we don't see that in the original show...

Hi there! I definitely do have some personal headcanons about appearance (though now I'm thinking about The Fox and the Hound, lol)

Commander Fox

Fox doesn't generally cut his hair in a regulation style unless it gets too long to stand under his helmet, which means that he only has a regulation cut once every six months or so.

His hair started going grey within four months of his assignment to Triple Zero and by the time the war ended his hair was mostly salt and pepper.

He doesn't care overly much about grooming, in the sense that he'll go a day to two without shaving or brushing his hair, so when he's not wearing his helmet he's got obvious stubble and his curls stick out in random directions.

Perpetual dark circles under his eyes since he only gets about 5-6 hours of sleep a night.

Fox has several scars from his cadet days, including a long one across the bridge of his nose, and a burn scar on his left forearm.

One of the big things for when I write Fox, is him having Lichtenberg Scars traversing an entire arm and going up the side of his neck, he hides them from his brothers outside the Guard by wearing his blacks all the time.

I also think that he's developed more scars on his body during his time in the Guard. This goes hand in hand with my headcanon that the Guard regularly gets the oldest armor and weapons, and their medics barely have enough bacta for every injury.

I think Fox is heavily tattooed, but I think each tattoo is a continuation of the one he got before. I also think that there's a vod in the guard who does the Corrie's tattoos rather than running the risk of someone other seeing their scars.

ARF Trooper Hound - So, I didn't have anything specific in mind at first, but I started thinking about it and now I do.

I think Hound has shoulder-length hair that he pulls up into a half-tail or a half-bun when he's not working. When he is working, it's braided flat against his head so his helmet doesn't fit awkwardly.

Hound tends to play around with his hair in regards to color, so it's not unusual to see him bleaching a chunk of hair so he can color the blonde with Space Sharpies.

He's leaner than a lot of his brothers, a lot of his job involves running to keep up with Grizzer, so he's built like a runner. This doesn't mean that he isn't as strong as his brothers, just that he's not as big as, say, Jesse.

He keeps himself clean-shaven because he doesn't like the feel of a beard while wearing his helmet, he says it itches.

He has scars from training Massiffs on his arms and legs.

Look, Hound was chosen to become an ARF Trooper and he made being a dog person his whole personality, or so it seems. He even has a Massiff tattoo on his leg, and a massive Loth Wolf tattoo across his back. (Fox told him he was forbidden from requisitioning a loth wolf for the ARF Troopers).

I think Hound is regularly covered in bruises from overly enthusiastic dogs. (I also think he runs, or at least is a part of, a clone fight club. It's an unproductive way for him to deal with the negative emotions that come with being a member of the Guard).

[dansconcepts]

Everything's Coming Up Hajime

The following drabbles (they're little scenes of different things with some more detailed than others because a fic was too ambitious for me :'>>>) completely and wholly inspired by and dedicated to @gliittergelpens for their headcanon post on Hajime (found here) and also the connected follow up interaction here. Go check 'em out :D! And I hope you enjoy this :).

Bleary lights. Bright. Dreary. 

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

NO!

Bolt, bolted, he can’t move, why can’t he move? Everything’s not okay, why is he here again? Where are they? Get to the corner, get to the corner, he can’t move he can’t move!- (why is he prolonging the inevitable? He hasn’t done that in so long)

Pressure starts compounding on his chest. He shakes. He doesn’t want to go again, it’s going to be another round of tests again, he didn’t know he agreed to this! Let go, let go, let GO!

“Hajime.”

They never call him that. He is the subject, their project, the plaything to rip apart because he is nothing more than an experiment. He is not a person. He is not Hajime.

“Hajime.” They repeat. “It’s Makoto.”

Makoto?

He doesn’t recognize-

Makoto Naegi.

He blinks. His body slumps. As if his body was lead, his head slowly turns toward the source.

“Makoto Naegi” was never one of the researcher’s names. He knows, because he remembered each and every one, even if he didn’t want to. No, Makoto Naegi is someone else entirely, someone who isn’t associated with the Project. 

Sage-coloured irises meet his gaze first. They are warmer than any of the researchers’ eyes. 

…He isn’t in a lab, is he?

“Muh-” He winces. His voice sounds terrible. 

“Hey, drink up.” Makoto commands, not unkindly. “I know you’ve been in there for a while, but try your best.”

A glass of water is held to his lips and once they hit, his lips burn, but he downs it gratefully anyway. His throat protests in agony.

“Do you know where you are and what happened, Hajime?” 

Hajime stretches, pops coming from all his atrophied joints. “W-we- ugh, Jabberwock Island. K-cough-illing game.” The Killing Game. At the reminder, adrenaline starts coursing through him, and he immediately lurches out of the pod.

Makoto gently pushes him back.

“Yes. The other survivors are awake, but they do not hold the memories you do.”

“W-what about everyone else? What happened to them?”

“They’re still in the pods.” He tries jumping out again. ���BUT!” Makoto blurts out. “BUT they’re okay. They’re not in the killing game right now. They seem to have created their own worlds-”

“What can I do to wake them up?” He quickly interrupts. 

“Oh, um, I was going to get to that part.” A small smile stretches on his face. “I knew you’d want to help. I would’ve been the same.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Darkness. 

He feels so tired.

He hasn’t felt this tired in… so long. Everything… is so tiring.

Lights threaten to blind him. 

No. 

Let him sleep.

Let him sleep…

“Hey, Nagito... it’s Hajime.” 

He stirs. Hajime?

He looks at the tanned skin, eyeing the scars on the undersides of his eyes, further littered over his arms, and then tracing back to his equally scarred lips, that were currently sipping on a cup in his hands.

“Ha-jime.” He croaks. Wordlessly, Hajime provides him some water. With weak hands, he reaches out toward the cup, and manages to squeeze enough of a firm grasp on it. Hajime continues sipping while he slowly gulps down the offered water. 

“Ahem,” He coughs. “Hinata, my apologies. …What happened?”

“You’re one of the last few to wake up, Komaeda.” Hajime replies, and notably, provides no context. “What do you remember?”

The question sparks his silence. His mouth purses into a deeply thin line. He eyes the man in front of him. Is there something he must have forgotten? “...Nothing particularly pleasant.” He decides on.

Hajime scrutinizes him. He stays quiet. Hajime slumps over with a sigh. “Okay, fair enough. Your pod opened, but you wouldn’t wake up. You’re in the hospital now.”

He looks around. Yes, he gathered that. The white walls and bright fluorescent lighting weren't foreign to him, he would recognize such a place no matter where he was. He could voice that, but there are more pressing concerns.

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand. How did I get here?”

“We went through a rehabilitation program.”

“Ah.” The memories are hitting him now. “Yes, sorry, I do remember us Remnants being captured for such a thing, although I don't remember much else.” He hums, looking the other up and down. “It worked, then?”

“That depends. How do you feel? About, you know, hope and despair and all that.”

“Well,” He chuckles, “if you’re worried I’m going to blow up this hospital in the pursuit of ‘a greater hope’, you would be greatly mistaken.”

Hajime breathes out a sigh of relief. “But I imagine my luck could affect that greatly. It's very fortunate you could balance it out.” The other gazes away from him, looking down in thought. How curious. Was it something he said?

He subtly tilts his head. The brunet covertly glances around, as if he was watching for something. Piercing eyes returns to meet his. “You can't get up to any crazy shit just because I can do that.” The other jokingly chastises, but his eyes remained guarded.

He nods with an smile. “Oh, I would never.” To anyone, it would simply be him teasing. However, he can tell Hajime's trying to hide something about his talents, and someone here is watching them. He wonders who would cause such paranoia.

Hajime fills him in on what occurred, being saved by the "Future Foundation" (oh, it's them.) and particularly specific members (Makoto! As in Makoto Naegi, The Ultimate Hope Makoto? Yes Komaeda, just keep it in your pants.), as well as explaining Nagito’s status, his mental and physical state (still affected by his pre-existing conditions, albeit less so), and the new addition to his body.

He turns it. He didn't even notice he had a new arm. It feels seamless, although the metal is strange to feel underneath his fingertips.

“I had to replace it.” Hajime explains. “The dead tissue was threatening to spread to the rest of your body if it was kept there. It was fine when we were hooked up to the pods since that was preserving it, but since you went into a coma, we had to act fast.”

“Hmm.” He curls his newfound metallic fingers. He sends him a smile. “It seems I owe a lot of my gratitude to you, Hinata, for helping trash like me.”

There's a pause. “We'll work on that,” is the response Hajime settles with. “...Do you want to meet everyone else?”

He freezes. Everyone else?

Although he doesn't know why, he feels himself pale completely and his body shivers. Everything in him feels cold, as if the temperature dropped, as if his whole body rejected the very idea of something he was otherwise only semi-wary about. He knows he had many reasons before to feel apprehensive around his former classmates, given his past transgressions during his time as a Remnant and theirs, but this feels... bone-chilling. Buried deep within his psyche, perhaps connected to the memories he doesn't have.

“What happened in the program.” He bluntly states, rather than asks.

“No one else remembers too, if that helps.” Hajime starts. It doesn't. “Even I barely remember it. Everyone has felt snippets though, things they avoid subconsciously, or they experience nightmares about it.” He wonders if Hajime has nightmares. He wonders what Hajime avoids. “It was broadcast-”

“I want to watch it.”

Hajime's jaw tightens. “It wasn't that type of broadcast. It wasn't recorded, it was just shown to Makoto and the other survivors. Besides, it's best you don't anyway. You're going to remember something about it.”

“How cynical. What if all I remember are pleasant things?” Nagito inquires, even if he knows the likelihood of that is so astronomically low. He is aware of himself. He knows being put into a situation like the Killing Game would just mean he'd have made very elaborate plans and schemes. Thinking that, a sharp pain in his abdomen sears through him, and he winces. It's a whisper of a feeling, but it felt... real.

Hajime merely lets out a defeated sigh. “I hope it is, Komaeda, I hope it is.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Throughout everything, this was the last thing he thought about. 

The scars. 

For the longest time, he forgot about the scars. For the briefest of moments, his complexion wasn’t completely covered by raised bumps, of angry red tissue, of the careless abandon from scientists who dissected him to fit their molds of perfection. 

And now he’s left looking into the mirror, tracing. His fingers feel the ridges. He remembers the scalpel digging into his eye, even if he didn’t feel the pain of it. He looks at the angry lines along his muscles, his thighs, and he knows with certainty it can be traced down to his feet, the bathroom counter being the only reason he can’t see the reflection of it. He remembers exactly what they forcibly fused together, being haunted by the ghosts of the sutures that were once there.

This is who he sees looking back at him.

…Mikan cleans the glass away from his fist.

[He could’ve done it himself, but it would’ve been a messier job, much like with anything else he would try nowadays.]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Hajime is out training with Nekomaru, alongside Akane, and casually working out with them.

Nekomaru points out the bandages that suddenly replace his glove, and he waves them off. “Just an accident.” 

After a decent workout, he starts heading back to his cabin to shower when he spots Fuyuhiko to the side, relaxing against a wall.

“Hey.” He greets.  

“Yo.” The former yakuza head nods.

They watch those on the beach, a tall orange blurb chases after a red one, their laughter filling the air as suddenly they're jumped by an even louder multicoloured blurb cackling with mischief. He can hear Hiyoko's distant cursing while Mikan rushes over, fretting. He snorts.

Fuyuhiko crosses his arms, a smile on his face at the scene. “Can’t believe we get to have this.” 

“I know.” He agrees. He’d do anything to ensure everyone here stayed happy like this. Speaking of, he has to make sure to check on the next shipment of supplies afterward. He refuses to have those Future Foundation workers anywhere near the Island otherwise. But first, shower.

He's about to leave when-

“What’s with the bandages?” The former yakuza asks.

He contemplates lying. The last thing he wants is for everyone to start worrying about him. As if aware of his thoughts, Fuyuhiko sends him a particularly scathing glare, menacing even with the eyepatch. He fesses up immediately. 

“I punched a mirror.”

“Why?”

“My scars-” He starts. 

Fuyuhiko quickly interjects. “There’s nothing wrong with them.”

“Part of me understands that, but I look at them and just see…” Hope's Peak. The Hope Cultivation Project. The Remnants of Despair. He squeezes his bandaged hand. “...bad memories.”

“Yeah, I feel that.” Almost subconsciously, Hajime glances at Fuyuhiko’s scar, hidden behind black cloth. Fuyuhiko meets his gaze, unflinching. “I hate thinking about having that bitch’s eye in me.”

“How do you do it?” How do you look at yourself in the mirror? How do you live with yourself? How do you not hate yourself? 

“Being a former yakuza, scars were symbols of respect. This scar?” He gestures to it. “It’s a reminder I’m not some psychotic fuck anymore under that bitch’s heel.

I know I’m not you, Hajime. I don’t have the amount you have. But know that your scars show that you’ve survived, and you’ve made it out the other side. That’s admirable.

And ain’t nobody here went through the type of shit you did. We all look up to you. You’ve had this whole thing on your shoulders. Nobody thinks you’re damaged goods with those scars. Hell, we think of them as a reminder that you’re the strongest out of all of us.” 

“...Thanks, Fuyuhiko.”

“No problem. Now you should go take a shower, you smell like shit.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Hajime waits in front of the screen. In no time, Chiaki's grinning face pops up. “Hey Hajime. It's nice to see you. How're you doing today?”

They talk amicably. Even though she wasn't his former friend, the reminder of her AI was comforting, and in the few pleasant dreams he had, he remembered her presence (and in the worser ones, he remembered her death).

“-There's a call for you by the way, I think. It's from Makoto.” He nods. “Thanks Chiaki.”

She patches him through, and he finds it so striking the difference between now and the tentativeness from the beginning, back when they were still establishing Jabberwock Island. Signal seemed daunting, and they (him, Makoto, and Byakuya) were still trying to get Chiaki's AI booted back up. He remembers when they first suggested she try to call the Future Foundation (particularly Aoi, since Hajime refused to have the new Future Foundation head or some random member appear on the screen, since he'd contemplate breaking the nice monitor in half from sheer rage). “It's not what I’m programmed to do,” Chiaki had said, “but… I can try.”

Of course, Makoto and himself exchange pleasantries and talk for a bit, but then it derails into... less pleasant topics. “I'm hoping to finish up the layout for Hope's Peak.”

He tightens a hand over his glove, pursing his lips. “Makoto. I’m glad you want to reclaim yourself, but Hope’s Peak? Really?” He hisses, and Makoto sighs, as if they had this same argument over and over again. 

They have, by the way. Relentlessly. He is NOT getting over this, not by a long shot. He already knows how much Makoto invested into the project, but he’s still of the very firm belief he should’ve invested zero. Of course, he wouldn’t taint their rare ability to chat with one another about it, but he isn’t above reminding Makoto if he brings it up, just to be petty.

But being TRAUMATIZED WATCHING YOUR FRIENDS GET MURDERED is one of the many valid reasons for having absolutely NO interest in seeing the place that tortured him, everyone he cares about, Makoto, everyone Makoto cares about, and basically THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD, come back to existence. 

He loves Makoto, he does, and he knows Makoto’s a good guy, but… 

The idea of Hope’s Peak not being some fucked up breeding ground for hope and despair? It doesn’t seem possible. Part of the problem in the first place was the idea of pitting students against each other, forcibly defining people's significance based on whether they had “talent” or not. As well, they really sucked at developing talented people's talent, giving arbitrary assignments (from what he heard) and no actual practicality applied. He would know. His body is literally littered with their failure.

And the Future Foundation providing a substantial amount of the funds for this project? Hajime has no doubt in his mind that there’s something underlying their generosity. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It's looking to be another sleepless night, despite the weight under his eyes begging for relief. Hajime just stares at the ceiling. He feels the body beside him shift the bed, creaking it ever so slightly, and in his peripherals Nagito faces him. Nagito has always been a bit of a restless sleeper (not that he blames him), so he isn't surprised to hear him ask, “What’s on your mind, Hajime?”

He sighs. “I’m just worried about the whole Hope's Peak idea.”

“You don’t believe in Makoto?”

He quickly flips onto his side to frown at Komaeda for the sheer idea. “I believe in him, I don’t believe in anyone else.”

“Well, I can’t help but feel a little hurt…”

“You know how I feel about you.”

Nagito hums. “Do I?” He smirks. “How do you feel, Hajime?” 

Why is he turned this way again? He flips back around, ignoring the way his ears start to warm up.

“...Shut up and go to sleep already.” 

He hears Nagito chuckle behind his back. It settles eventually though. Ah, Nagito finally went to bed.

“You know,” Nagito's voice pipes up, still awake after all. His voice sounds a little whimsical, as if nearly about to sleep. “I don't necessarily disagree with you. I thought it was a place of great hope, and the fact it's being run by the Ultimate Hope is quite amazing. But...

There's you. And the hope in you has been shining so brightly this whole time.”

He freezes. Did he just-?

The words spark something in him. As if they sounded familiar.

He gets a rush that tea- nor even caffeine back when it did anything for him- has never achieved. When he eventually does sleep that night, his dreams are pleasant.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It's one of those rare instances Makoto lands on Jabberwock Island and can say hi to everyone. They meet at the small restaurant on the Island where Hajime prepares some tea for himself. He offers it to Makoto, who takes it gratefully.

Much like their video chats, the start talking about what's currently going on when Makoto- once again- mentions Hope's Peak.

Hajime lowers his cup.

“I'm going to be reinstating talents at Hope’s Peak.”

His fingers clutch his glove. He digs them in, sharp and quick, his lips immediately pulling down into a frown.

“Did… someone force you to do this?”

“Uh, no?” Makoto averts his gaze. “I’ve consulted with basically everyone since you’ve started getting me a little paranoid…”

“You should be. The Future Foundation doesn’t deserve you. You’re way too good for them.”

“They're trying to change.” Makoto states, with not much conviction.

Hajime hums skeptically. Sure they are. “Just watch out for yourself, yeah? Because the first thing I’ll do is leave this island just to kick their asses. I don’t need an Ultimate to make them into ragdolls.”

Makoto chuckles, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “...You must’ve practiced that.”

“Being around Fuyuhiko and Akane tends to give you some badass lines.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It starts like a regular day. Things break, people fight, problems arise, he deals with it. When he sees the broadcast, he doesn't know how to deal with it.

“Oh, Makoto's on TV. How exciting.” Nagito mentions offhandedly, as if it was something as casual as the weather. It decidedly is NOT. Is Makoto okay? Why would he be broadcasted? Is this another...?

“-ing Hope's Peak,” He catches the tail end of. “In this world, there's nothing more important than banding together to fix the Tragedy that occurred. Rejoice with me as your new headmaster. Alongside the Future Foundation, we'll bring forth a new hope together!” Hajime cringes, and cringes hard. This doesn't sound like Makoto at all. The Future Foundation logo is the last image of this blatant ad, what the fuck, but he's seen enough.

He knows exactly how to deal with this.

He strolls into the new Future Foundation headquarters (although that may be underselling it). Instantly, upon seeing him, people start shrieking and running. Red lights blink in and out. He brushes it off. It’s the last of his damn worries right now.

He's rushed by armoured guys. He suddenly feels like he should've thought this through, but he continues on. He slips himself into the old Remnant persona like an ill-fitting jacket, paired with a little Ultimate Actor prowess. “Let me through or I'll make sure your families have nothing to put into a casket.” Okay, not his best work, but it's enough for them to back off. They watch him. He even hears one guy cowering in fear from behind. It's that which allows him to catch the guy's arm and dislocate it. Everyone jumps at the sudden violence, and the guy screeches.

He knows it's fixable, but he still feels bad. The mask he wears threatens to slip, but he keeps going until he gets to the new Future Foundation head. (Hajime met her before through a forced video call, with them threatening to interfere at Jabberwock Island if he wasn't capable enough. “I am Sumiko Hatanaka,” they introduced themselves. “Ultimate Administrator. Given the circumstances the Future Foundation is currently in, I have become appointed as the temporary replacement head provided my previous experience and commitment to my work.”)

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing.” He sneers.

“How are you here?” She asks. “What are you doing here?”

“That wasn’t my question.” 

He sees a sheen of nervousness across their forehead, but they don't let up their frown.

“Why are you here, Hajime Hinata, Remnant of Despair?” 

Why is he here? Why is he HERE?

“What gave you the right to use Makoto for some ad for Hope's Peak? What the hell are you doing, exposing him further to the public? Do you know what this could do to him?”

“I assure you, I have no vested interest in letting a valued employee be defaced in any way, shape, or form. His mental faculties are highly important to this company. Meanwhile, you are jeopardizing the very people you wished to protect by coming here. Was it worth it?”

He growls, “Leave Makoto the fuck alone, or I’ll remind you why I was a Remnant.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Makoto’s Hope’s Peak is in full operation. He doesn't know if he'll ever visit. So instead, Hajime is left pondering the future, and living on the Island with the rest of his classmates.

He genuinely hopes nothing bad will happen, but...

He wouldn't bet that it won't.

[ryuzakemo128]

Dragonfire & Wildfire

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: Incest, mature themes, and mention of burn scars.

Trigger Warning: Not for readers with a sensitivity to incestuous relationships, extreme fire imagery.

Words: 1795

Links: [Masterlist]

Dividers Credit: @cafekitsune / @strangergraphics

Links to dividers used: [01], [02], [03]

(Headcanon One)

Aelora's scars from her multiple experiments using wildfire and dragonfire would make any ordinary person shudder with revulsion. Which doesn’t bother her nearly as much as most would have assumed. Although, considering her tendency to cover them up, it was clear she wasn’t entirely immune to the judgement of others. Her fascination with the destructive power grew from a young age, a twisted curiosity had led her down a dangerous path.

Yet this is the only version of her youth ever told in legends and tales. Mostly written by men of power who sought to diminish her influence over young women during her lifetime.

As other versions painted her in a light of scientific curiosity rather than a maddened princess obsessed with fire to her quote unquote bitter end. Those who knew her would say she is a lover of most things, from warships to sea creatures. To fine art, to poetry.

Nothing about her was able to be able to be strictly defined. As her hobbies changed as rapidly as she breathed. The maesters the house of Hightower had in their pockets simply called her self obsessed in their historical writing of her. Leaving her simply as a footnote, unworthy of a second glance according to them.

Aemond, her one-eyed cousin, would remark, “You're like a dragon in human form, Aelora.”

Aelora raised an eyebrow, “In appetite or in temperament?” she quipped, her voice holding a hint of challenge. As she continued to walk through her ever-growing archive of knowledge passed down to her from generations of women from her father's side.

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head in pure amusement, “Both, I suppose. The way you devour knowledge and the fiery passion that burns in your heart.”

(Headcanon Two)

Aemond, he sometimes took them after sex, leaning into her to smell of ash and sulphur, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. He would say, Your fire is my home, as he took the gloves from her hands, kissing each one of her burn scars on her forearms, feeling the warmth of her touch on his skin.

He would continue to whisper into her ear, “No. I don’t think so, jorrāelagon, we're not done yet, you still have more to learn, more to burn and discover about yourself.” His hand would trace the line of her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he touched her collarbone, his finger hovering over her heart as he felt it race in anticipation.

“I still want to taste you,” he murmured, clinging onto her as if she was going to slip through her hands.

Aemond remained rather clingy when it came to Aelora, his fascination with her as intense as her obsession with fire. He found something eerily alluring about her scars and the untamed spirit they seemed to represent. They were not just a physical manifestation of her power, a symbol of the fiery passion fuelled her soul.

Her curiosity about the world, her boundless love for knowledge, and her fearlessness in the face of danger reminded him of the mythical beasts they both shared blood with—dragons.

Clingy because that is what his mother thought he was being. Though Aelora didn't seem to mind, at least, she didn't particularly get why he was so obsessed with her. She was the one who sought him out for companionship in the first place.

(Headcanon Three)

Aelora deliberately translates certain valyrian texts just to say she did before he did. Which was a silent competition between them, a dance of wit and intellect. It was how she started her first conversation with him, she didn't know how to approach him, thinking she would scare him off, much like she had with so many others.

To him, on the other hand, here was this woman, fiery and powerful in her own right, and yet, she sought companionship with him. It was a mystery that tickled his mind and filled his chest with something warm and unfamiliar. Something that felt suspiciously like affection. “A pity it wasn't you,” she sarcastically remarked.

He countered with, “Perhaps it's because you're the closest thing to a dragon I've ever met, Aelora.”

“Pretty sure, Daemon is closer to it, considering his temper can scorch someone alive,” Aelora replied with a smirk, referring to his uncle, which is also her cousin. She knew he didn't mean it literally, but the tease rolled off her tongue as naturally as the flames she'd coaxed from the candle earlier.

Aemond grinned, his one good eye gleaming with mischief, “Daemon is more like a wildfire, unpredictable, and consuming. You, Aelora, are a dragon, precise and masterful, capable of bending the very essence of fire to your will.”

(Headcanon Four)

Cuddles are prevalent when either Aemond or Aelora are feeling particularly anxious. They seek each other out, sharing whispers and warmth. It didn't matter how late it was in the night, one, or the other, would find their way to the other's chambers. The wooden door would creak open, and the tiptoeing across the cold stone floor was like a silent symphony of comfort. They would wrap themselves in blankets, their bodies entwined like serpents, sharing the heat of their embrace.

If Aemond went into her bed chambers, it was a silent quest of his own. He knew the layout of her room like the back of his hand, having spent countless hours there, not just studying, but exploring every inch of her, both in mind and body. The candles were often lit low, casting long shadows across the ancient tomes that lined the walls. The air was thick with the scent of dust and parchment, mixed with the faint hint of Aelora's favourite lavender perfume. It was her sanctuary, and he was her devoted pupil.

Aelora would shift, turn and move in her sleep. Regardless of why he snuck in there. She would wrap her warm arms around him in a protective embrace. Melting into her arms like a block of ice in a dragon's flame. A leg wrapped around his waist, pulling him into a tighter embrace, her hand resting gently on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating. He felt safe, something he had not felt in a very long time.

If Aelora snuck into his room, he would lay there, one eye open, watching her as she moved about, her silhouette dancing in the moonlit darkness. He studied the way she moved, the way she breathed, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't watching. He had seen her fiery side, the one that could bring a room to its knees with a single word or gesture. But here, in the quiet of the night, she was something else entirely.

Vulnerable. It would be because of a nightmare rather than anxiety. He would whisper, “It's just a bad dream, Aelora,” his voice soothing and calm, his hand gently stroking her hair. Aelora's eyes fluttered open, and she took in a deep breath, the scent of him filling her nose, a mix of leather and steel. Her heart was racing, and she clutched onto him like a lifeline. They would fall asleep together, his one eye staring into the darkness, watching over her like a silent sentinel.

(Headcanon Five)

Once Aemond found out Aelora slept naked during her voyages on her war ship, it was all over from there. As the mental image of her naked beneath the sheets of her bed, rocked by the gentle waves of the sea, consumed him.

Torn between the desire to respect her privacy and the irresistible urge to see her in that vulnerable state. Unable to resist the temptation, he sneaked into her cabin, his heart pounding in his chest.

He had artists paint portraits of her subtly, in this state, subtly to not overtly state his desire but to show the side of her that was untouched by fire.

Aelora in the moonlight, unmarred by the wildfire that danced on her skin. She was a vision of beauty and grace that he couldn’t get out of his mind. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

(Headcanon Six)

Her Lindwyrm, Zerthurnax, the one with four legs, a serpentine neck, coiled around her like a living blanket. The creature's obsidian black scales glinted in the candlelight, a stark contrast to Aelora's soft, scarred skin.

She recently found out it snuck into her bag somehow. She took it home with her. When he saw it, his one eye widened in a mix of shock and fascination. “Where did you get that?”

“It must have snuck into my bag when I wasn't looking,” Aelora shrugged as if it was a regular thing to happen to her. “I don't remember when it happened. Must have been while I was having a bath or something.”

Aemond couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “You're something else, Aelora. A true wonder of the world.”

“What can I say, I attract the peculiar,” Aelora smirked, stroking the small lindwyrm's head. Its forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, and it hissed softly, seemingly in response to Aemond's disbelief.

“It's quite harmless, really,” she assured him, watching the creature coil around her arm.

(Headcanon Seven)

Aelora invites Aemond to eat with her, even if it is mainly seafood dishes or dishes with duck, chicken, or pheasant. As she liked sharing food with him, enjoying the way his face lit up when he tasted something new. Plus, she found his one-eyed glares when she'd eat something that smelled particularly foul quite entertaining. She would also insist on paying for it. As she liked the idea of spoiling him in her own way. Even if it's just food.

He would protest at first saying, "I'm not your pet to be spoiled," but his stomach would always win out in the end. Plus, it was hard to refuse Aelora when she looked at him with those fiery eyes, filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with her affinity for fire.

"Pet? No. Someone who I find attractive? Absolutely." Aelora bluntly countered.

Aemond's cheeks flushed slightly at the bluntness of her response. He had never had anyone speak to him like that, especially not someone he was attracted to.

There was something about Aelora that made him feel… alive. Like he was living in a world that was not just black and white, but a world filled with color, heat, and passion.

He could feel his heart race as he looked into her eyes, crimson pools of fire that seemed to see right through him.

[dreamsclock]

prompt u say... in a no nuke universe, how does c!tommy handle seeing the absolute worst of c!dream's scars?

(and vice versa?)

not gonna write this as a fic and instead gonna write it as a mini analysis because i wanna discuss different scenarios so!! buckle in!!

this is a mess. warnings for: scars, death, murder, mild gore (Detail of injuries and scars), unhealthy dynamics (diskduo), mentions of torture, abuse, etc. warnings for general themes in exile, prison, and c!diskduo's general dynamic).

operating under the popular headcanon that canon deaths leave scars, i would imagine the worst of c!tommy's scars are from his canon deaths: one over his heart from the l'manburg independence wars, one across his neck from the final control room, and a head scar from being beaten to death in prison (along with others, but the most common c!tommy final death i've seen has him with a head wound for this). of course, he probably has other scars - from the manberg explosion, from doomsday, from exile, etc - but i imagine a lot of those would be straightforward enough?? along with the first two of his deaths. i think in any of those scenarios, c!dream would be either patching up a wound for c!tommy or something similar, see the scar, and then ask him about it - i like to imagine he doesn't even REMEMBER the final control room death (because i also forgot it LMAO) and tommy takes the biggest offence to this. what the fuck do you mean you don't remember??? that was the biggest deal of my life!! "look, it just slipped my mind-" SLIPPED YOUR MIND???? MY DEATH SLIPPED YOUR MIND?????

for the final death, i think it resonated a lot more for both of them. the first two of tommy's deaths happened even before the life system was canonised, and happened before exile, manberg, and everything that followed. after manberg, things felt like they had a lot more weight to them. tommy's final death came from a very personal place, for both of them. it wasn't war, it wasn't for a kingdom. it was a matter of emotions and desperation and fear and trauma, for both of them, and i think it would be a lot more of a big deal for them both too.

dream finds it when he's trying to wash blood out of tommy's hair after growing tired of him complaining about the mess. it's a knotted, gnarly scar - half feels like there's obsidian still lodged in there - and dream's hands pass over it once, before pausing. tommy's squirming and griping stops very quickly when he realizes what dream's found.

both of them know what it is. neither of them need the confirmation.

but dream isn't going to ask. and tommy isn't going to tell. so dream continues until the back of tommy's head is blonde, free from blood, and tries to be careful when washing near the scar.

maybe later that night, when they're both lying half-asleep (read: staring restlessly at the ceiling of their base), dream asks quietly. does it still hurt?

at the other end of the room, tommy turns over in bed, and sniffs.

do yours?

because dream's scars... they're not exactly hidden. sure, dream wraps up what he can - his mask hardly ever comes off, and he's usually clad in armour and extra clothes and bandages anyway, which cover a lot of skin - but torture scars can't exactly stay hidden. especially not that many. tommy sees new scars every day, though he never asks about them any more.

i don't know how to begin classifying which of dream's scars would be the worst. neither does tommy, who sees burn marks and places where bones have broken the skin and scars from swords and axes and patchily-healed skin where shears have been involved.

he'd tried asking about them at first. what the fuck? he'd said, seeing the first - a strip of skin that hadn't healed right on dream's back, nasty, scarring. a messy little smiley face is cut into it too. dude, you look like you've been fucking cut into little pieces.

dream goes rigid. how are your scars, tommy? he'd snipped back, voice curt, mocking. how's the neck healing? how's the arm?

they'd fought. obviously. they fought a lot, in the early days.

but tommy's unease around dream's scars only grows when he realizes the extent of them. they seem endless, a mural of torture and torment that he just knows are from the prison.

quackity did this, didn't he? he asks, when they're too tired months later to fight. quackity and sam. in the prison.

dream doesn't reply to that.

but tommy is woken up by him that night, when dream shrieks, bolting awake in bed. it's not a human sound. it's barely even animalistic.

tommy never tells him that he'd woken that night. there's no point. dream won't thank him for the knowledge that tommy had seen him curl up in bed, whole body trembling. he won't thank him for the knowledge that tommy had heard the choked gasps and sobs as he'd struggled to breathe, that he'd watched through half-closed eyes as dream had paced until the sun came up.

he didn't tell him any of that. he didn't tell him about the new scar he'd seen either - two of them, wrapping around his neck from the axe of peace, from the staged disk war finale.

tommy remembers how good it had felt, slamming that axe into dream's body.

when he eventually falls back asleep that night, he dreams of prison, and the break in dream's frame when he'd killed ghostbur.

SEND ME MORE C!DISKDUO / NO NUKE PROMPTS OR ASKS!!

[butterfluffy]

Hello, how are you ?? I could have a headcanon on the monster trio + ace with an s/o that has burns in several places on his body! and when asked what it is she becomes aggressive (even with them) and if too many questions are asked the s/o leaves the room and disappears for a few hours (even if they are in the middle of the mother) and one day the s/o says she has burns because her mother threw her in a fire?

“beautiful scars”

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· how would these men react when you show them your beautiful scars?

⠀⠀➧ fluff, slight angst | luffy, zoro, sanji, ace (separate) × f!reader | headcanons

⠀⠀➧ warnings — mentions of past trauma, depiction of violence, and swearing...! mistakes may be present though.. so do ignore them, thanks!

⠀⠀➧ requests are closed until further notice!

⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: hi, here's your request, sorry for the delay!

MONKEY D. LUFFY

he saw your scars by accident when he really need to use the bathroom, and you were there, taking a shower, all bare.

“o-oh! y/n, didn't know you were taking a shower—anyway, i-i gotta go use the toilet real quick!”

he didn't notice it at first, because his main focus is to relieve his bladder and piss, while you look at him in shock.

“luffy... you.. you saw it.” you stammered, trying to cover your entire body with a towel that is only enough to cover half.

“saw wha—wait, are those burns? how'd ya get 'em?” he asked after noticing the marks on your body, causing you to grit your teeth.

“shut up, shut it, and get out! get out, luffy, out!” shouting at him with your might, you then got your boyfriend out of the bathroom, confused by your outburst.

he waited for you to finish your shower before confronting you about what had happened.

“babe, what was that about? i just asked how did you get your scars.. i don't mean any harm...” he muttered, pouting as he watched you get dressed in silence, ignoring him, especially his question.

but this boy is curious, very curious, so he bugs you about it continuously, annoying you.

“luffy, can you not!!? it's a sensitive topic for me, so shut it! but i know you won't, so fuck it!”

hearing you get this angry, luffy falls guilty, looking down while you took a deep sigh.

“my mom pushed me into a fire, now, happy!?” finally giving your explanation on how you got your burns with a croak of your voice, luffy snaps his head to you.

heart sinking by your words, luffy's hand shook, not wasting another second and just embracing you tightly.

“i'm sorry, y/n! i shouldn't have asked, i'm really sorry you had to experience that!” letting a string of apologies fall out of his mouth, luffy caressed your back and your burns.

luffy will then proceed to make you feel better and loved, despite the scars of your past that he noted to be some “beautiful scars.”

RORONOA ZORO

zoro saw your scar when he saw you train in your room with a tank top and shorts.

his eyes immediately traveled on your body, pausing as soon as he saw the burn marks on it.

he's not pleased to see scars on your precious skin, so frowning, he entered your room without a notice.

“y/n, what's with the burns?” he asks, not beating around the bush.

examines your body once again, habing a clear and close view of you and the burns that sticked out of your clothes, revealed to him.

“what the hell, zoro!? don't you know how to knock!? and it's not of your business, now get out!” kicking him out of your room, zoro wore an unpleasant look on his face, a huff leaving his lips as he waited for you and him to cool down.

he badly wants to know how did you get your burns, curious if you got them on a fight or an accident, because if it were on a fight—

he'll get mad at himself for not being able to protect you from getting burned, and also mad to the person who did such thing to you, his dear girlfriend.

“you cooled down now?” the moss head asks after some hours of waiting in your shared room for you.

“yes, and don't dare speak of what you saw a while ago.” you warned, plopping yourself down the bed and facing away from your boyfriend.

“about your burns? fine then, but at least tell me how the hell did you get them? and who's the fucker who had the guts to do it?”

asking you these, you then clicked your tongue, slamming your hand on the nightstand, getting yourself to sit up.

“the fucker is my mother who threw me in a fire, now, satisfied?” you grumbled, clutching the bed sheet as you frowned, while zoro on the other hand stitched his brow to a frown for a moment before he snaked his arms on your burns, tracing them as his neck burried on your nape, sniffing your essence.

“what a bitch, but at least she made an artwork, which is you, and these beautiful scars.” zoro mutters, kissing your scars all over, admiring you.

zoro then makes you feel that you're beautiful, even with the scars you have.

VINSMOKE SANJI

this pervert saw your burns one day when he peeped on you as you changed into your clothes.

expecting to get a nosebleed, sanji was shocked instead because of the burns on your body being fully displayed to him.

his mind then wonders on how on earth did you get them when his eyes are on you all the time, making sure that you're okay.

“did she get it before she met me? that's most likely the case, but still, how, and who did it?”

not wanting to ask you about it, sanji kept what he saw on that day to himself for a while, until—

“uh, uhmm, y/n? may i ask you something?” he utters as he poured you a drink after having dinner with you, his sudden change of tone causing you to raise a brow.

“you know... before, i saw.. you have burns all over your... body. who—who did it, and, uh, how did you get them..?”

upon hearing his questions, you then widened your eyes, hand tightening on the glass you're holding, the pressure cracking it, causing your hand to bleed, and sanji to panic.

“i'm leaving.” you blankly state, standing up and leaving just as you said, while sanji stood on his place, frozen and confused.

he knows he definitely said something that got you to be like that, so sanji lets you be, waiting for you to return anxiously...

“m'lady, you're back! i'm—i'm really sorry for the questions, i was just curious and.. worried about you, because you have burns all over your body...”

sanji is quick to apologize for his mistake, but you are still mad, obvious by the big frown on your face.

“..i appreciate you worrying over me, but i'm fine now! it's been years since my own mother pushed me in flames, giving me damned burns so shut just it!” you exclaim as sanji's eyes widened.

“y/n, my love i—i'm really sorry. don't worry, i won't mention it again, but please don't call them as imperfections, okay? you're still perfect even with scars, i love you..”

sanji will make it up to you by cooking you your favorite meals, and showering you with his love and appreciation.

PORTGAS D. ACE

ace discovered your scars when he entered your room as you fit in a dress, the flowy fabric blown by the wind, revealing your skin that is riddled with burns.

he didn't notice it at first too like luffy, since he was too flustered seeing you look so pretty.

but he noticed it soon after calming down, pointing it out.

“..oh, uhm, w-what—you have... burns? how did you��?”

before he could even finish his question, he was forced outside by your shouts and the things thrown to him. “ace, get out! out!”

after that scene, you then left your lover for hours to cool down, confusing ace who followed you around like a dog, apologizing again and again.

“darling, i'm really sorry for whatever i did or said! i just want to know how you got your burns!”

ace says with an exclaim, now back at your home with him—arriving to an unexpected guest in there.

“ah, ma'am! hello, uh, what brings you here?” he questioned, looking at your mother with a small smile on his face as you widened your eyes.

“you—wha-what are you doing in here!?” surprised by her arrival, you stitched your brows into a frown, not wanting to see her at all.

“i am here to visit you, my good-for-nothing daughter. and fix your attitude if you don't want me to push you in a fire again and give you more of thise nasty, ugly scars that makes you look more... hideous.” she warned, eyes narrowed at you.

and hearing this, ace clenched his fist, finally getting his answer to his question, while your breathing got heavier, dashing away with tears hanging by your eyes.

“the hell? what kind of mother are you..!?” he growls, not holding back and—

..slapping the old woman's face before catching up to you.

ace then comforted you, telling that the scars you have are beautiful, and swears that he will protect you and won't let your mother anywhere near you.

© butterfluffy 2022

[shotorozu]

polyamory headcanons

(bakudeku x reader)

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, strong quirk (not specific)

headcanon type : all of them minus the extreme angst (x reader)

note(s) : i have another platonic class 1-a post coming right up! and another lengthy post,, theres no editing with this whdnwks

»»————-　♡　————-««

how it came to be

so this entire thing practically began even before bakugou realized his feelings for you (i’ll explain in a bit)

midoriya KNEW there was something going on, as soon as he met you he just didn’t know what it was. and he eventually realized his feelings for you when the dekusquad made him realize after being in denial

meanwhile, bakugou was never going to admit that he, bakugou katsuki— was crushing on what was an ‘extra’ to him

i wouldn’t really say you’re an extra really, because your quirk is so impressive to the both of them, labelling you as an extra would be dumb.

the dekusquad urged him to just make his move, while bakugou was still stuck in his denial stage (much to the bakusquad’s dismay)

midoriya was the first one to express his interest, asking you questions ranging from your quirk, to basically anything about yourself.

and bakugou had to sit through all of it in silence because he just had to sit right infront of you two

eventually— it became too much, because a big confrontation sparked between the two, with bakugou asking what the hell he was doing with you

and around this time, midoriya wasn’t so ‘scared’ of bakugou anymore. i mean, there’s still respect going around— but he won’t allow himself to be beat up anymore!

“if you like Y/N, why don’t you make a move, kacchan?”

it’s very competitive— a lot more than before. bakugou finally started to make his move, forcing offering you to spar with him, and making you food.

and midoriya only continued to make advances (the bakusquad and the dekusquad were in shambles just watching the three of you)

and that’s where you’re stuck between 2 choices. it’s hard because you like the both of them! they’re amazing in their own way

to stop the bickering, you proposed a polyamory— to satisfy all sides of the story. izuku immediately agree, and while bakugou HATED the idea, it was better than not having you at all

as long as izuku’s willing to share, then he won’t be so opposed to it. he’s in for it for you

everyone was so shocked when it was revealed that you three were DATING

hugs

you’re always in the middle, this isn’t very surprising.

katsuki always wants you to be in his bear hug, and midoriya would be content with just spooning you.

it’s so hot when it comes to cuddling, and no, not in that way. i mean— katsuki’s body heat is just TOO MUCH

so, y’all just ditch the damn blanket, y’all have katsuki anyway.

katsuki’s arms will be hooked around your waist— his head placed on the crook of your neck.

meanwhile izuku held your hand, his legs sprawled on top of yours— his head laying on your chest.

also, there will be a lot of kicking 💀

but, you do occasionally let katsuki be in the middle when it’s especially colder. you don’t want izuku to be cold too.

kisses

similar to my todomomo x reader post, the three of you find each other doing that classical kiss— where two people kiss your cheek at the same time (on opposite sides)

katsuki’s lips are warm, pretty soft. not at all flakey— and izuku’s lips are a little bit on the drier side, but they’re pretty smooth.

because izuku has a lot of scars on his hands, you’ll take your time with kissing each scar— meanwhile, katsuki traces the scars on his free hand

you and izuku love kissing katsuki’s cheekbones. he says he absolutely hates it when you both do it without warning, but he can’t help but anticipate it— every time you both go near his face

katsuki and izuku love to hold contests on who can fluster you the most— and who can kiss you the longest :))

how you guys spend time

if there’s something you can all agree on— it’s that katsuki’s cooking is the best.

cooking sessions are a staple of your relationship

y’all tend to close your eyes, and just pick a random recipe— so that you can try to make it, even if katsuki doesn’t like the food

he’ll still make it, because his ego gets fed whenever he sees you and izuku watch him cook intensely

there were plenty of times where y’all almost burned down the kitchen while trying to make wagyu beef

but it is pretty fun to hear katsuki’s food commentary, which is usually rare— since he loves to cook in silence

comfort

you basically have 2 guard dogs with you. they’re so protective— anyone that messes with you won’t see the light of day

if you get hurt during training, they’ll freak the fuck out— debating if they should drag you to recovery girl, or if they should patch you up themselves

katsuki would make izuku run to the medkit, and katsuki would take a look at any injuries— massaging any sore muscles

we all know katsuki is shit at words, especially when it comes to reassurance and panic attacks (if ever) but that’s why izuku’s here

he knows exactly what to do (excluding the first time) and he knows exactly what to say, but that doesn’t mean katsuki is useless

he’ll pull you close against his chest, softly rocking you back and forth— wiping any tears that cascade down your cheeks, caressing your arms up and down

if izuku felt terrible, you’ll distract him by keeping you close— while katsuki RAN to get the all might documentary izuku wouldn’t stop watching, and a few blankets

y’all don’t need blankets but, it’s helpful in situations like this

if katsuki was feeling down, you and izuku would allow him to vent, getting everything out in his system— as the both of you sat right next to him, comforting him in silence

overall (and additional things)

it’s a big rollercoaster

they’re the best boyfriends you’ll ever have, despite the initial tension.

of course, there will be fights here and there— due to katsuki and izuku’s clashing personalities (and competitiveness)

but you’re also the mediator for the both of them, technically a middle point. something that’d get them to get along for once

the entire relationship is so powerful?? like,, wow. you must be hella hot AND special if you’re dating izuku and katsuki.

the chemistry is good though— you all tend to agree on one thing for sure, it’s that none of you would have it differently,

because it’s three or none in this house

overall? 10/10.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[womensblood]

i’ve come undone

pairing: Michael Myers x Transmasc!AFAB!Reader (can be interpreted as trans man too. If you’d like me to make one where there are no genitals mentioned, than I’d be happy to make another. Or if you’d like me to specify a gender, just tell me so. I’m not good at writing cis people tho I’m sorry bros 😔. )

rating: m

TW! Internalized Transphobia

This story is continued from my other headcanon list so I’ll leave a link to that

this story includes : rough s3x, masochism, biting, s3x while st0ned, choking, age difference, semi-clothed s3x, reader is kind of mean but Michael likes it, power bottom!reader

Jesus, he’s been gone for a while. You think, drumming your fingers against the hardwood table and tapping your foot. For a ruthless serial killer, your roommate has been surprisingly pleasant to be around. I mean, sure, he never says a word to you, he apparently has no concept of personal space, he smells like rotting meat and death, you’ve caught him multiple times watching you sleep (and from the very recent revelation you’ve had, you don’t mind all that much) and he almost killed you that one time, but hey, he’s… not that bad.

You can’t help but wonder when he’ll be back. You stiffen as soon as you realize what you just thought about, and you groan into your hands, digging your palms into your eyes. “That’s fucked, man.” You hiss, pushing back against the table, your chair groans as its dragged on the ground.

You dig into your back pocket, pulling out your pre-rolled blunt and twirl it between your fingers, so it faces your lips. You’re not dealing with this right now. Not while sober at least.

As you make your way to the drawer by the sink and next to the dishwasher, you pull out the only lighter in the empty, rotting wooden drawer and kiss the very tip of it. You wipe your lips, just so there’s no leftover wetness on the base and pop it in your mouth, lighting the end.

You delight in the very familiar burn in the back of your throat, the taste is bitter and it makes your mouth water, but damn it feels good. You inhale deeply, through your nose and lips, trapping the smoke in your mouth and holding it.

You release the smoke with a laugh, feeling your face warm at how cheesy you felt.

“God that’s… cringe.” You mutter to yourself, huffing out a laugh as you plop down at the corner of the table, taking another long drag.

You’ve always been a lightweight. Not that you complained about it. Cause after your 3rd hit, you’re laughing at the thought of anything and everything that crosses your mind. You’re a giggling mess when you take your 5th hit, and you know you need to stop, because now, your blunt is almost halfway done, and you stub it out on the table, satisfied. “Hmm… mmm.” Your voice is shaky and pitched and you can’t help but giggle at how silly you sound.

“Whaddya wanna do?” You ask no one in particular, completely lying down with your back on the table and your legs kicking then air mindlessly. Your thoughts go back to him, and you stare up vacantly at the ceiling, feeling your body numb completely.

You wonder what he looks like under that mask. You’ve seen one photo of him, just when he was younger. And he was pretty. Cute, even. Not exactly your type but hey, he could still get it.

He’d look different older. Completely different. More tired. Worn out. Not as angry as when he was younger, but definitely more terrifying. You know he has scars, and you wonder if they’re also on his body. He wouldn’t be conventionally attractive, no, but you don’t care. You like his mask.

You wonder what he’d be like in bed. Aww… like you haven’t imagined already, a voice rasps in your ear, and you flinch away, gritting your teeth. He’d be rough. No kissing either. He’d just hold you down and fuck yer brain out, it sighs, almost dreamily, and you take a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes. You know he definitely would. Even though you imagined it a couple of times, there’s no way in hell that he’d let you fuck him. You can already imagine it. You snort at the idea of him killing you over even asking to peg him. But then your mind wanders, and all of a sudden, your mind is elsewhere.

Him grabbing you, shoving you against the wall with his hands all over you, holding you completely still as he grunts and growls in your ear. He’d choke you until your fighting for air, clawing at him, and he’d let you breathe for just a moment, enough to get one good breath in before he’s fucking you mercilessly.

For a moment, your hand slowly starts to slide down your stomach to unbutton your pants, and you don’t even realize you’re doing it until you hear the sound of your zipper. In an instant, the fantasy is gone and you sit up, mouth agape. but the idea of getting caught is horrifying. Especially if it’s by him.

Cause knowing him, he wouldn’t do anything. He’d just look directly into your cooch and just leave, and you’d die of shame. You grit yourself teeth and shudder, slapping your hands across your face. “Damn.” You sigh, gritting your teeth and pushing yourself off the table. Fuckin’ asshole, you think, mostly directed at yourself, but apart of it’s directed at him too. Making me feel embarrassed about jerkin’ it. Fuck—

You almost scream at the sight of him, looming in the doorway, and you’re shocked you didn’t notice how hard he’s been breathing. Fuck! How much did he see? It’s the only thought that crosses your still very high mind, trying to form any coherent sentence that would make sense to him. “I-I wasn’t like—actually gonna touch—” You don’t even see it coming. Because one second, you’re petrified, awkwardly trying to explain that ‘you weren’t actually going to touch yourself, you were just itching down there. Cause, lice, you know?’ He shoves you against the table and presses his knife hard against your throat.

He looks like a fucking animal. He grips your jaw with one hand, and to your surprise, he practically rips your jeans off, and you hear one of your buttons break and clink! to the ground. It didn’t dawn on you yet, what he was going to do to you. You just thought he was going to kill you. But then, he rips your blue jeans right off your legs, leaving you in your striped boxers that were just a little too big for you. And then you get it.

“Oh! Oh.” You have an epiphany in that very moment, your eyes wide and your mouth falling open into an ‘o’. You didn’t know what to do. Then again, who fucking would? But still, you didn’t expect Michael Myers to be into you; a homeless stoner with a variety of mental issues—and who’s not a fucking chick. You didn’t even think Michael could fuck. Or even be turned on for that matter. But now he’s looming over you like a dark shadow, his eyes raking over your body and you hate that your face feels hot.

He goes to take off your shirt, but you grab his wrist, stopping him. “Bra stays on. ‘Kay?” You can see the confusion in his eyes, just for a moment, and it almost makes you snort just to see Michael Myers get confused. You take your shirt off before he can, and he stares at the the many black sports bras that flattens your chest just enough to look semi-flat, and attempts to tug on the strap, but it’s much too tight to fit his finger under.

It shouldn’t make you feel so gross. He’s not judging you. He’d be a hypocrite to do so. But you can’t help but feel like this, and you hate it. You don’t want to fucking ruin this. To ruin what’s going to happen. You don’t want to. You’re not going to.

But still. What you are is wrong. And everyone else thinks the same thing. You sigh and let your head fall against the table. And you can just feel his eyes on you, watching you, waiting for you to move. And you decide it’s better not to keep him waiting. You don’t want to.

With a sigh, you prop yourself back up with the help of your elbows, and then lean back against your hands, acting ass if nothing had happened. As if you hadn’t just almost pussied out of fucking Michael Myers.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” You cock your head at him, doing your best to put on a facade of complete control, that you’re not nervous in the slightest, that you haven’t been desperate for this to happen for months. You’re not going to let your stupid fucking insecurities ruin this.

He grips your hips, pulling you right on his clothed erection that is currently poking against your . It makes your body and face burn and you hate that you squirm against him, so eager, so desperate.

“Michael?” You sputter quietly, trying to remain tough, and he can see right through you. You love it and hate it. He unzips the front of his pants and of course he goes commando because now, he pulls his semi-hard dick out and you’re face is hot and you’re horrified and excited and you feel so much at once that it’s overwhelming. You feel him rip your boxers off, and thank god you stop him before he just shoves himself in there without thinking and you move away with a shriek.

“Michael! Dude! H-Hold on, J-Jesus!” You giggle nervously, almost breathless. “Christ, do you know how much it hurts to get something shoved up there semi-dry? Huh?”

You sit up, and lean towards him, and your heart is racing in your chest as you reach slowly for his wrist, pulling his hand close, letting it rest on your hip. You don’t break eye contact as you guide his hand right to your cunt, breaking into a triumphant grin just at seeing his eye twitch. “Okay. Good. N-Now I want you to do—” your cut off by inhaling sharply as his finger slides into you.

Even though you’re already wet, it still stings just a bit from how big his hands and fingers are. It’s not like you’re a virgin. You’ve done this plenty of time. But still, you haven’t had anyone as… big as Michael.

“K-Keep… uh… keep goin’. P-Put your thumb… huhh…” you guide his thumb directly to your clit, and he stumbles just a bit. But Michael’s always been a fast learner. Soon enough he’s got his own rhythm, and you find yourself grinding against his finger and thumb, gritting your teeth.

“Yeah… that’s it. Good boy.” And just like that, Michael hopes another finger in you, his pace increasing violently, hard, pounding into you as he holds you down with one hand on your shoulde, his own breathing getting heavier and heavier under his mask. Even while getting fucked mercilessly, you knew that good boy was a trigger word. In a good way. You save that in your mind for later, focusing on awkwardly grinding on his fingers, trying to keep your moans and grunts and groans to a minimum, but the whine you let out when he removes his fingers from you is embarrassing. And even more embarrassing is the noise your pussy make when he pulls them away.

He doesn’t waste time shoving his fingers covered in your juices in your mouth, and you respond by grabbing his wrist and sucking on his finger, and clearly, he doesn’t expect it. You remove yourself from his fingers with a pop and grin cruelly.

“So… do you like being called a good boy? Or—” his eyes darken and he slams you against the table so hard you swear you see stars, and you can feel your head ringing. “Fffuck man… t-that… damn.” You whimper, letting out a weak chuckle. Just as you’re about to make another quip, he pulls you in, and you can feel him pressing his throbbing dick right against your eager cunt and you try not to shiver excitedly.

“We doin’ this on the table?“ You frown at him, still clearly teasing. “Kinda sad… I wanna ride you, cowboy.” You chuckle at the fact that you’re still fucking high, but he shuts you up quick, shoving himself in and you grin and snarl and grit your teeth because fuck that hurts so good. “Fff—God! Damn—Haa! Shit, Michael. Fuck—you wanted me this bad?” You laugh and you swear you see him roll his eyes. But your teasing doesn’t last long as he shoves himself all the way in you, and his thumb finds your clit, and just like that you’re done.

“Fuck Michael!” You gasp, grabbing his sleeve on his arm that’s resting right above your hip. “You make me feel good. God!“ You groan and your hand slides down on his accidentally, but you can feel the scars and old burns and your hips buck involuntarily. Then, you get a marvelous idea.

“Jeezus… fuck. Michael, choke me.” You plead, and the way his eyes light up almost made you regret your decision. But pain is pleasure, and when he wraps his hand around your throat and squeezes, you almost cum right there.

He holds you still as he fucks into you, and the only thing you can hear is how heavy his breathing is getting under that mask, the sound of the table creaking and wood cracking from how hard he’s fucking you, and your body is in pain but you love it. You can hear yourself practically growling his name through gritted teeth, and his grip around your throat tightens, and his movement becomes frantic and animalistic, and you groan at your own climax, but it takes him a few extra seconds to finish, and even as he pulls out, his hand doesn’t leave your throat. You watch him finish on the ground and if you weren’t so sore you would have told him to clean that up.

The two of you sit in silence while you’re trying to control your breathing and the quiet groans that keep spilling past your lips. “You’re not bad for an old man.” You tease, groaning as you sit up. He looks at you, his eyes heavy and unamused, which makes you chuckle.

“Just so you know… I’m open to doing this anytime. So… uh. Prepare yourself for tomorrow old man. I’m not holding back.” He blinks, shaking his head once he knows you’re away, huffing out a dry laugh through his nose.

[decayedhearts]

headcanon time: rook 🥞

Just a brief overview of some headcanons I have for (my) Rook. Most of this is not based in canon, so it might be very different from other Rook portrayals. It might also change later on as I learn more about his story :)

French (or whatever it would be called in Twst) is his first language. It’s not something he learned for Pompom or to be sophisticated, it’s the only language he spoke until he was about 5. After that he learned other languages too, but his mother tongue always shines through. The more emotional he is (happy, sad, excited, mad), the more of it you’ll get. If he speaks while dreaming or delirious, he will only speak French.

I partly hc that French is his first language also because he is from the Sunset/Afterglow Savanna and was originally in Savanaclaw. Due to the whole Lion King origin, I think it works to imagine he was from an area where “French” was the national language, as is in a bunch of countries in Africa. (I like to imagine Leona & Farena speak the Twst version of Swahili, but Rook would be from a different area). However, his parents are not necessarily from there, as I imagine the Hunt family to have a history of moving around a lot. During Rook’s lifetime they’ve moved a bunch of times, so he has lived in different places and considers nowhere his home.

The name Hunt is a symbol of how devoted the family is to their trade. They used to have a different last name, but Rook’s ancestors gave it up a long time ago and were known only as “the hunters”, which in more modern times, became the last name “Hunt”. 

He’s from a family of hunters with a long tradition. His family is well-known among their trade and throughout the world of Twst. They are old blood and made a name for themselves generations ago. This comes with expectations and duties that neither Rook nor any of his siblings can refuse. He is a hunter first and foremost. During holidays Rook is often called to hunts, and it could happen that his family calls him back from school sometime, should his skill be required. This hasn’t happened so far.

Rook is an extraordinary hunter with outstanding feats in the past. He was trained from a very young age to become a hunter and he is always judged most harshly by his own family. He is both envied and disliked by other hunters his age, as he is often the center of attention and praise at gatherings like the infamous Hunter’s Ball. He does put people off with his strange behavior, though. Some things never change.

Rook can use a variety of weapons and is proficient in hand-to-hand combat (and magic combat), but his preferred weapon is the bow.

As is tradition with active hunters, Rook has built an immunity against a variety of poisons, so he isn’t taken down by certain creatures as quickly as a normal person would be.

Rook’s body is covered in scars. Guarding your body and health is an important part of any successful hunt, but up until he befriended Vil, physical appearance (his own!) did not matter to Rook in the slightest. He has scars from burns, cuts, acid, poison, training, fights and encounters with various creatures. He wears long sleeves and gloves to cover up most of these.

It’s incredibly hard to find Rook sleeping. He doesn’t fall asleep when someone else is in the room and in fact is so sneaky about sleeping when other’s are around that it might seem as if he doesn’t sleep at all. He will only sleep soundly next to someone he really trusts, or when he is severely exhausted/injured.

He has a very high pain tolerance.

To be continued :3

[sxfik]

I have an idea!

Ok so we all know that Hanseo is abused by his big brother, and if i remember correctly, the jipuragi trio found out about it from the guillotine file for the first time.

Now hear me out, what if the jipuragi trio found out about the abuse from Hanseo himself, not from the guillotine file??

After failing to burn down geumga plaza, Hanseok threw that object at Hanseo, telling him not to dodge it, and it left a scar on his forehead. When Hanseo visited jipuragi, he seemed proud of that scar, right?? Because thats what he got from saving geumga plaza, and he hoped that the scar would show them that he wants to be on their side.

BUT lets forget about all those stuff for a moment.

Hanseok loves to strangle, threaten, and hit Hanseo with the hockey stick. It certainly happens more than once, so i figured that there must be a bunch of scars and bruises on his body right?? What if the jipuragi trio noticed one of his scars/bruises?? I know Hanseo always wear long-sleeved stuff, so its not exactly visible, but what if someone caught a glimpse of it??? Perhaps the scar/bruise was on his arm???

Maybe when Hanseo visits jipuragi, Vincenzo asks him to wash some coffee mugs, and as Hanseo is rolling up his sleeves...

"yo whats that on your arm??"

And maybe Hanseo is like "thats a bruise..? Do you not know what a bruise is??"

Okay, idk. I have no idea how he's gonna react if that happens. I just feel like Hanseo wouldnt be proud of his scars if he didnt get them from trying to save geumga/jipuragi people.

And now im just wondering, what do you think? How would Hanseo react, in your opinion? If the jipuragi trio really did find out about the abuse from Hanseo himself, how would that affect their relationship? Im really curious about what you think

Hhhhhhhh sorry if its too long. I just thought that this might be a good way for Hanseo and jipuragi to kinda get closer with each other...

han seo headcanons (part one)

helloooo, thank you for sending an ask in :D

SORRY this answer is super long and for some reason my phone isn't allowing me to add a keep reading cut thingy, apologies in advance to the amount scrolling you have to do

tw: abuse

i've been thinking so much about this ask and just how han-seo would react to them finding out, and honestly i never really took note of how many long sleeved shirts he wears. i believe han-seok has switched a lot more into emotional manipulation and abuse than physical abuse but he has a lot of anger issues. i'd honestly imagine him using han seo as a punching bag for any and every inconvinence that happens to him, even as an intern.

i also agree with you, han seo is someone who is a very bright personality who tends to hide his hurt and emotions, and he's very very good at it as he has been living under a psychopath his whole life. he's good at hiding his anger (although it definetly bubbles over in smaller outbursts) and especially his hurt (i.e. the scene that han seok throws that candle holder at him and he just smiles back). han seo has a lot of anger at himself for not speaking back or being able to act like himself. like in that scene in the office, you can tell as he curls his fist that he wanted to speak back so badly. even when he finally snaps against han seok, he said "i'm getting tired of being afraid of you." i feel like he'd be embarrassed that even after years, he hasn't been able to escape his abuse

next>

(you can also read the following on ao3)

i feel like this scene and their dynamic would play out something similar to this:

han seo joined the team and has been working with vincenzo and cha-young for around a month. at this point han seo isn't walking on eggshells with both of them, he's a lot more comfortable and visiting their office regularly without choi/han/han seok finding out.

sometimes it's vincenzo and cha-young providing him books to study economics from, maybe even giving some brotherly/sisterly advice to him. every couple weeks, vin and cha-young give him quizzes and slowly, he's getting better and better

over time, he even got closer to the plaza residents (even though the residents were definetly cold to him in the beginning, miri scaring the shit out of him by doing her ghost thing, the lady with the lipstick from bye bye balloon staring him down, snack bar lady refusing to serve him, larry also scaring the shit out of him by doing his zombie routine)

but despite this, they adopt him into their family, han seo doing small errands for the residents, him buying the best coffee, food and getting camera equipment for the snack bar lady's son. han seo gifting the pawnshop couple with cute baby items etc.

(obviously he buys the most expensive shit bc he's still a rich boy, but they dont have to know)

(side note: he'd be fucking adorable with a baby, imagine him being the babies "uncle han seo" who gets them the best gifts !!)

even though he was comfortable with all of them, every once in a while his facade would slip.

every once in a while, someone would make a sharp movement towards him and he'd flinch. or if someone makes a quick step towards him, he'd back up and stiffen up on instinct

even if it was someone patting his back or just making a quick movement, he'd react on instinct from the years of abuse from han seok. but no one ever said anything about it if they noticed.

one afternoon after lunch, they were washing dishes, han seo on washing duty and cha-young drying and placing them back. and han seo was in his full sleeves and cha-young notices his sleeves getting wet

"yah, roll your sleeves back, by the end of this your whole sleeve will be wet! you know how uncomfortable those sleeves would be?"

"ahaha, it's alright noona, i'll be fine"

han seo tries to laugh it off, grining at her with one of his wide grins but there's something off about this one. but cha-young gives one of her patented glares and he rolls them up carefully, shielding his arms from her view, and continues washing the rest.

cha-young doesn't take note of his bruises at first, but noted the care he went through to shield his arms from her. his arms were posed almost awkwardly and he was on high alert

it wasn't until after they both finished and he was drying his hands that cha-young saw the massive bruises he had, climbing up his forearms and under the sleeves

he stiffens when he sees her stare, and quickly tries to cover them but she grabs them before he could hide it

she's completely quiet while she stares at his arms. after a moment, he speaks up

"oh i accidentally banged these against my doorway, they're just small bruises. it's go away in a couple days" he smiles at her again but she could tell from the way his shoulders were frozen and the wavering of his voice that it wasn't the truth

"did he do these?" she asked him, her face completely neutral and her voice barely a whisper. she's still looking at his forearms, her fingers ghosting over the bruises.

han seo just looks down and the silence is enough of an answer for cha-young. he walks away, embarrassed that she found out about it, even though his years of therapy told him that it wasn't never his fault, he still felt the shame and anger of not being able to break free.

he's quiet for the rest of the time, feigning tiredness and finding an excuse to leave the plaza

that night, it was just vincenzo and her working at the office late, in preparation for babel. cha-young's mind was still on what she saw that afternoon. abruptly, she stands up, her hand gripping the pen in her hand as she turned to vincenzo sitting at the other desk.

"did you know that bastard hurt him? he's been abusing han seo this whole time?" she asked vincenzo, her voice seething with anger

"i know."

"you know??? why didn't you ever say anything?"

vincenzo looks up at her from his stack of papers, setting his pen down.

"it wasn't my place. i picked up on it when he flinched when mr. tak reached toward him to place a hand on his shoulder."

cha-young sat back down then, her lips pressed together, and vin went back to his paperwork

"we should get him out of there. who knows what han seok would do in one of his rages?"

"couple nights ago, we went to drink makgeolli and i offered him a way out. i told him if he ever needs to leave, and if he's ready to leave, he has a place at the plaza."

"and is he? leaving that is?"

"no. he thanked me, but said that he needed to stay until his brother and his group crumbles to the ground."

cha-young let out a sigh, biting her lip, the worry on her face all too evident

"hong cha-young byeonosa-nim, we shouldn't baby him. jang han seo deserves revenge against his brother just like we do and the choice is ultimately up to him."

"i know. i just worry."

they stayed quiet for the rest of the night, working late but the topic never leaves cha-young or vincenzo's minds

the next day, han seo avoided her like the plague, not wanting to talk about what she saw yesterday

but while he was studying, she approached him, a glass of juice and a snack in hand, setting it next to him. she checked over his work quietly as he took a break and glanced at his arms, doing a once over just to make sure he didn't get any new ones.

"well done, han seo, you're doing well" she smiled at him and ruffled his hair and han seo let out a breath of relief and gratefulness that she hadn't treated him any different

from then, cha-young and vin only got fonder of han seo and han seo was pretty much adopted by them. after the battle and han seok is in jail permanently, he moves out of his apartment, and gets one closer to the plaza.

mr. nam would show him how the organization worked at jipuragi and put him to work, the paralegal grateful to have an extra hand around the office

eventually, even han seo grows an affection to the instant coffee and buys more for himself and his apartment

vin would take him shopping for suits, both rich boys obsessed with their sleek looks. they take cha-young with them once but she manages to sleep off at every shop they go to.

vincenzo also plays hockey with him regularly and the plaza invites him to plaza game nights. they get up to all kinds of mischief,

han seo loves spicy food, just like cha-young so they make it their mission to go to try every restaurant and compete to see just how much spice they can handle. obviously vincenzo doesn't even make it past the first round of the spice competitions but cha-young and han seo have the same competitive streak that keeps them going

han seo is also dropping hints to both of cha-young and vincenzo that they should get married. constantly teasing vincenzo about cha-young in the way only younger brothers do

obviously on one of cha-young and han seo’s days out, han seo drops hints CONSTANTLY, trying to get her to admit cha young likes vincenzo

and OBVIOUSLY she slips up, and han seo doesn’t let go of it

he does the whole younger brother teasing every single time he catches cha-young glancing at vincenzo at the firm

“cha-young noona and vin hyung, sitting in a tree. K I S S I N—” “HAN SEO!!!”

obviously chayenzo eventually get together but decide to keep it a secret (and of course, they were awful at it)

eventually when they reveal it to the office, mr. nam and han seo react like that one scene in suspicious partner (“quick, act surprised” “*gasp* you guys are together??????? we had no idea!!”)

han seo is basically adopted as a younger brother to both cha-young and vincenzo and even the plaza loves his presence and he gets to have a peaceful existence for the rest of his life

anyways han seo deserves a happy ending with a good family. he deserves a second chance with a family that LOVES AND CARES FOR HIM AND GIVES HIM CHOICES AND ALLOWS HIM TO BE HIMSELF. (and yes this covered more than just one scene but I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS ON HIM) as always feel free to add on :D

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Can I request headcanons for a poly relationship with Brahms and Vincent Sinclair?

Oh my gODDDDD ANON UR MIND!!! Legit I went OFF with this headcanon post and honesty I’m obsessed with this pairing now. I might even write a smutty one shot regarding this but like fuckkkkkk I hope y’all enjoy this cause i had SO MUCH FUN writing it!

Brahms/Vincent/Reader Poly:

Since Brahms and Vincent are two killers that are based in a specific location and would probably never leave their homes, here are a few specific headcanons for each killer in the other’s home.

Vincent in the Heelshire Manor wouldn't affect him too greatly, other than the nagging feeling of being homesick. Though if he has you by his side, it makes the ache less harsh. For the most part as long as Vincent has a room he can call his workshop he really won't mind. And because the Heelshire mansion is so huge there would be more than enough room for such. 

Brahms would be very against having Vincent in the walls, feeling threatened by his presence, but once he is more used to the three of you being together he might not mind it as much. Actually, Vincent enjoys Brahms' space. He finds the room quite relaxing, though a bit too cramped for his liking. 

Ultimately, both are fine as long as they are given their privacy to work and relax on their own time. 

Brahms in Ambrose would cause the most upheaval. He would glue himself to your side, following you wherever you went as you were the only comfort he had in this strange place. Brahms isn't used to not only being out of the walls but essentially having a whole town to himself to explore. It would be a lot at first, but with yours and Vincent's gentle urging, Brahms would slowly embrace this new change.

He would love the tunnels under Ambrose, allowing him to move to different places in town without needing to walk down the street just in case there were visitors in town. He prefers to slip in and out of places largely unnoticed so less attention is brought to him.

While he does not actively participate in the slaying of visitors in Ambrose for the wax collection, he has been known to attack anyone he deems a threat to you or the Sinclairs. This is his home now and anything that is a threat to that home must be dealt with accordingly (and brutally). Vincent often complains that Brahms ruins the bodies, but understands that Brahms can't control himself when he reaches that point. 

Speaking of the other Sinclair brothers, Bo unsurprisingly hates Brahms. When Brahms first arrived, he was very shy and nervous around Bo, actively afraid of the loud and easily angered brother. Once he realized that Bo was no threat to him, he actively enjoyed "playing" with him. Bo hates it when he uses his childlike voice, but Brahms continues to do it anyways to put Bo on edge. Brahms might also use his stealthy abilities to purposefully scare Bo, appearing out of nowhere and giving him a heart attack and running off before Bo can retaliate. Bo would never admit it openly but Brahms intimidates him simply from his stature and the inability to read him.

Lester was intimidated by Brahms when he first arrived, the man much taller and more muscular than he was. But when Brahms learned about the road kill Lester collects and disposes of, he simply asked if he could take care of the rats as well. Lester did, and the two have no issues with each other, though Lester still feels a slight unease when around the other man. 

Now, for the personality dynamics of the boys.

Brahms and Vincent get along much better than one might initially suspect. The two are utterly territorial men, often with you in the middle of their affections, however they eventually grow to understand each other and how it would be easier to protect you if they were both there. You’re the common denominator that keeps them from fighting each other, and the fact that you dispense love equally between them is an important factor. 

The two will eventually grow to respect each other as well, with Brahms eventually being comforted by Vincent's company if you are unavailable. He will often sit quietly with Jonesy as he watches Vincent work on his sculptures, very rarely interrupting him. Vincent isn't bothered by this presence, and is often comforted if either you, Brahms, or the both of you are in the room with him doing whatever as he sculpts. 

Vincent grows fond of Brahms, feeling protective of him when he becomes distressed and overwhelmed. Growing up with Bo, he has learned how to help diffuse highly volatile situations. Even if he can't speak very well, his gentle reassurances help while he deescalates Brahms’ tantrums. A plus for you, really. 

As the two of them both wear masks to hide their faces, they might reveal themselves sooner rather than later simply because they're in the presence of another person that truly understands what their going through, as well as someone who loves them unconditionally (you, of course). Expect them to take of their masks one night while the three of you are together, the two of them slowly revealing themselves to each other and you. Brahms’ burn scars, and Vincent's scars each on one side of their face, cause them to be moved when they first see each other. They'll have their masks off around you more often after that. 

Now,,, the somft dating headcanons,,, 

Brahms and Vincent are both touch starved individuals so just expect to be giving lots of love to these boys. Just you cuddling with them makes them melt, and if they see you giving attention to one you know the other will grow jealous until you give them some love as well. Brahms is much more clingy than Vincent however, and you'll have to be a bit more firm with him about your space even if he ignores it most of the time. Vincent is a lot more shy so when you give him hugs and kisses he is more likely to freeze up instead of latch onto you like Brahms the Leech Boy would. 

Both spoil you as much as humanly possible, mostly with love and physical affection though they have their own little ways of treating you. Vincent makes you small wax sculptures all the time, enjoying the smile on your face as you look the figure over with adoration. Brahms gets a bit annoyed over this, as he doesn't have much of an artistic hand. But Vincent is happy to give him some wax and either let him mess around with it or teach him some techniques to properly use it. Brahms is so proud once he is able to make you something small, probably a bowl, and he absolutely melts when you squeal in delight at his thoughtful gift. Vincent can't help but feel happy himself too. 

Lots of snuggle piles with the three of you, often with you in the middle. While they don't tend to have a favorite position as long as they get to hold you, they do have a few regular positions. When you read out loud to them, Vincent tends to sit behind you, your back up against his chest, as Brahms is tangled amongst both of your legs as he rests his head on your lap, his arms draped around your middle. Vincent holds the book open for you so both of your hands are free to pet and play with Brahms’ hair, which he thoroughly enjoys. Sometimes Vincent and Brahms will swap places, or one of them will rest their head against your chest as you act as the big spoon. Also expect many blankets and pillows to further complete your nest as well. 

Luckily for Bo, Brahms’ need for structure in the form of the daily chore list will keep you busy cleaning up the living space and making enough food to feed all the men you were caring for now. If Bo has been particularly good, Brahms might tag along with you to the gas station to deliver him lunch after you bring Vincent his. Vincent is usually busy with his art so you give him a kiss on top of his head and leave his food on his work bench, knowing he will get to it once he is hungry. Bo won't dare to lash out too much when he is being fed, especially not when Brahms stands behind you like an imposing bodyguard whenever Bo is nearby. 

Date nights with the two of them are rather unconventional. Most of the time whenever the three of you are together it is considered a date whether or not it is super romantic. Just coexisting in the same space is often enough for the three of you. Vincent is happy enough to show you and Brahms around Ambrose, obviously knowing the best places to relax and get away from the stress the town can bring. He knows exactly where you can see the best sunrises and sunsets too. And Brahms is more than happy to tag along, though if he was in his manor than he would probably have a hard time leaving even with the two of you by his side. 

Expect lots of quiet nights reading, softly talking amongst yourselves, watching old vhs tapes found around town on the small TV, and listening to music. Sometimes Jonesy will keep you all company and get lots of snuggles and belly rubs as well. 

Now onto the headcanons you filthy animals were waiting for. You know. The naughty stuff ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Being the needy man he is, Brahms is probably the first to initiate sexual touching. He is certainly not shy about his desire for you, not even being embarrassed about growing hard around you. Vincent, on the other hand, is too ashamed to initiate contact in the beginning, even if he feels the same way. Most likely he will let Brahms take the lead with you first, enjoying the act of watching you both. You can't get enough of the sight of Vincent sitting in his chair, hand squeezed tightly around his member as he edges himself while watching Brahms grab and explore your body. And with Brahms’ jealous streak he doesn't mind having you first either. 

Slowly, Vincent will find his way into bed with the two of you, probably at your urging. If Brahms is feeling particularly generous, he might be the one to say something. "They’re so soft Vinny, you have to touch them." With some gentle persuasion, Vincent will touch you the way Brahms touches you, making your toes curl and your breath hitch. Brahms watches eagerly, touching you as well and grabbing your hand and holding it over his cock as you pump him until his seed spills over you.

Vincent isn't shy about body worship once he realizes how much you want him. He will kiss and caress every inch of you, pulling out all sorts of noises that you never thought were possible. Brahms looks on in awe, his mouth often following behind Vincent's as he mimics the actions, much to your delight. 

Brahms has a hard time holding himself back around you while Vincent can take an entire night with you, so together they tend to even out. They'll go until you're too exhausted, but usually Brahms will finish first, leaving Vincent all the time in the world with you. That is, until Brahms’ gets hard again and finds his way back into the fray. 

They are both comfortable being switches, not minding if they are on top but if you want to top they will gladly let you spoil them. They both love being ridden, holding you in their arms as you bounce on their cock, until you leave them a shaking mess beneath you. They also enjoy receiving oral from you, and you tend to include both of them in the activity. Sometimes you will jerk the two of them off with your hands, give oral to one and use your hand on the other, or on at least one occasion, have attempted to at the very least lick both of them at the same time. 

As the three of you grow more open and experienced with each other's bodies, you can expect to try taking them both on at least a few occasions. Sometimes one of them will be performing oral or fucking you as you take the other in your mouth. If you happen to be AFAB, expect double penetration to be attempted at least once, though Brahms is a bit too impatient to go through the whole ordeal so it isn't an activity you often engage in. 

Now, Brahms and Vincent both grew up in very strict and sheltered homes, so the thought of being naked in the same room as another man, or sharing the same person with another man in the same bed might cause them trepidation in the beginning of your sexual relationship. Eventually, however, they grow to love each other as much as they love you, though they might show it to each other in a different way. While they might not initiate sex with each other if you aren't around, they will slowly begin to experiment with you in the bedroom. Touching you turns into touching each other as well, and they find that while each other's touch is much different than yours, they enjoy this new feeling. 

In fact, they might have been known to, on occasion, jerk each other off if their needs grow too intense and you aren’t around to provide for them. When you caught them, they were facing each other, pumping each other’s member as Brahms buried his face into Vincent's shoulder. Initially they were wildly embarrassed and thought you would be mad, but you assured them you weren't, your words of encouragement helping them finish. 

Time for kinks!

They both share voyeurism kink, and while Brahms can be a bit annoyed and bratty if he has to sit on the sidelines, both are content to watch the other have their way with you, getting off on just watching. Hell, both of them spy on you on the regular, watching you get dressed or shower before you either notice them in the doorway or they allow themselves in. 

If Vincent is able to get a hold of a camera you know he will be taking pictures of you constantly, with or without you knowing. While it partially adds to his voyeur kink, he enjoys being able to take artistic nudes of you, as well as less artistic ones where you are simply being wrecked by one or the both of them. 

Wax play is a big kink of Vincent's as he enjoys watching your expression as he tips the candle over your skin and watches how the hot wax makes you jolt for a moment before it begins to solidify on your skin. Brahms, however, is not a fan, simply because he finds it tedious as well as being unable to enjoy it himself. Putting hot wax on a hairy man is not a fun time. 

They both enjoy bondage, though Brahms doesn't really know how to properly execute it until meeting Vincent. All three of you have been tied up at one point or another, allowing the other two access to their body. Vincent enjoys the more eloquent knots and ties, creating intricate designs on both you and Brahms. Brahms is a good candidate for being tied up as he gets worked up so easily and this is one of the few ways to help him take his time. The ties that you and Brahms execute on Vincent aren't as beautiful but they do the trick, and he often has a hard time edging himself with the two of you giving him attention. 

Any kinks that you have are eagerly accepted by Vincent and Brahms, as they are always happy to bend over backwards to satiate your needs. Even if it is a little embarrassing, they're willing to try anything at least once with you. 

Ultimately, the open communication and understanding between the three of you help immensely when it comes to taking care of each other's needs. You would all drop everything to satisfy your partners, and they would do the same for you.

[bluemeetgrey]

My list of Will Solace Headcanons

1, Will Is a good doctor, but isn’t a good cook.

Like he won’t burn the food and stuff. But his food always tastes super bland because he is a Health-nut, and never put enough salt. Sometimes opted to cut the salt out completely.

Applying the same logic, his baking doesn’t taste good either.

So naturally Nico became the cook of the family.

One time Nico brought a cake that Will made to the underworld by accident, and Demeter somehow ended up trying it. Surprisingly she loved it, so she became the only person who appreciate his cooking.

Will doesn’t know he’s a bad cook because nobody have the heart to tell him.

How could you though? When he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes of his. Asking you how you like the food, with the excitement of a Labrador puppy.

Sherman came super close though, but a deadly glare from Nico, Percy and everybody in a 5 mile radius shut him up.

2, People don’t have the heart to say no to him. Because at one point or another, he saved them or their siblings life at least once.

So everybody in camp is somehow indebted to him.

You can always count on him to be there for you, when you’re feeling down or need help with anything.

Plus he can use his super effective puppy dog eyes on you, and you’ll be surrender powerless.

If you made him sad, everybody would be ready to kill you.

3, Nico isn’t his first crushed.

Like Annabeth Will also had a crush on Luke.

Because he stayed at least a year in the Hermes cabin, before being claim by Apollo.

Luke being the head counselor at the time, took care of him and show him the roads.

Luke was also super hot, and he’s a great fighter.

He became Will’s great sexual awakening.

He offer to heal Luke’s scar, but he declined.

4, Will came very close to joining Chronos’s Army.

He felt abandoned by whoever his godly parent is.

Luke took full advantage of that

telling him he had to follow them to prove himself to his godly parent.

But Apollo strike him down with a fever. The night he was supposed to leave whit Kronos’s demigods.

It was that Iris message in the second book, from Percy to the whole camp. That show him Luke’s True color, convincing him to stay.

5, for the longest time people thought he was a Hermes camper.

Because of how quickly can run

And how nimble his hands were.

6, Will was not a year rounder because of anything tragic.

The infirmary needs a good medic, during the school year.

So the camp made the children of Apollo a deal.

Who ever the best healer is, had to stayed at camp in the school year. All  throughout high school.

But that person will have all of their College including graduate school and their PHD, pay for by the camp.

In addition the camp will also enroll them into a Super competitive,  pre-college program online.

To teach them more advanced biology.

Because nectar in ambrosia or praying to dad, can only get you so far.

8, Will had a lot of mortal friends.

They are all from the dance class, his mom signed him up for in the weekends.

9, Will is a good dancer.

He does competitive dancing.

And attends a lot of competition in the New York area.

Sometime when he has to do competition out of state.

The camp will hire a chaperone to take him.

It’s usually a adult demigod or Sally Jackson.

Who love volunteering herself for this kind of stuff.

He won a lot of competitions.

And is actually quite famous in the dance scene.

8, His mom was a Ex-Shadow Hunter who escaped to the Mundanes world.

Her brother was a member of the Circle.

She escaped because of persecution for her sexuality.

Naomi escaped with her girlfriend at the time.

Even though they eventually broke up.

Their still friends.

She helped the Texas institute escape to Idris.

She fought in all three Wars.

Her  original name was Ness Blackthorn.

She is the cousin of Andrew Blackthorn.

Her named her son William Andrew, because she misses him.

She despise the Circle

Because she believe Shadowhunters, Downworlders, and mundane are equal.

If you guys like this I can continue writing some more. And maybe turned it into a story or something, I really want to explored that last one, because it’s so cool. Hope you guys enjoy.