#Wanting to know where your child is and not letting them do dangerous things is normal actually

[freyadragonlord]

Recently I’ve been thinking about the different types of love languages in Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, The S-Classes That I Raised, and Lout of the Count’s Family…

Not to say that each of the stories describes only one single kind of love language; they are, after all, all novels that focus on Found Family, with many different types of relationships between characters that express their love for each other in as many different ways.

Yet, I’ve noticed how at the core of each of these three stories there is one specific act of love that recurs more than others, and that becomes the true Theme each novel revolves around.

In Lout of the Count’s Family, the main love language is providing food and a home.

“Home” is such an important concept in LCF that Cale collects houses like they were pokemon cards. The source of his trauma when he was a child as Kim Roksu was that he was not given sufficient food, and that where he lived was not truly a shelter where he could feel safe, just a place he was trapped in.

And I don’t think there are ever more than 2 chapters in a row without a character offering food to others, or asking if they’re hungry, if they’ve eaten, why haven’t you eaten, here have some apple pie!!

Cale uses his newfound money and power to make sure his loved ones are provided for. That’s how he adopts bonds with most of his new family.

The first thing Raon does after he’s freed from the prison he’s been trapped in all his life, is to leave food for this hopelessly weak human.

Choi Han, who has lived alone in a dangerous forest for decades, would do anything to protect his home.

The Crown Prince, who has been isolated and untrusting of everyone ever since his mother died, makes sure to always have cookies in his bedroom in case guests “break in” for a visit at any time of the day or the night.

I love you, you’ll never be hungry again. I love you, my home is your home.

In The S-Classes That I Raised, the main love language is words.

Yoojin’s powers are literally activated by telling people “I love you”. Because all he ever wanted was to say “I love you” to his brother one last time.

Because the tragedy that starts the story happens because Yoohyun loved and protected his hyung in secret for years. Silence creates misunderstandings, it creates distance, it leads to loss.

Loving someone isn’t enough, tell them! Reassure them. Remember what they say, because their words are important!!

Ever since the regression, Yoojin always let people know when he loves them and appreciates them. “You’re perfect, you’re cute, you’re so talented, you’re so handsome, you are loved.”

And as the novel progresses, whenever Yoojin is in pain, or doesn’t know what to do, he turns to Sung Hyunje because he needs to be reassured, he needs to know he did well, he needs to hear he is still important to the people he loves.

I love you, please know that I love you! I love you, please tell me you love me back.

And finally, in Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, the main love language is time.

Time is one of the greatest sources of horrors in ORV. Eternities upon eternities of suffering, being trapped for ages in the same, hopeless loop, wishing for everything to just stop.

And yet, time is also the greatest gift characters give to each other.

Because the wounds Dokja suffered as a child, and then again and again through his whole life…. They need time to heal. They need so much time. They will probably take forever.

So let them take forever.

Despite how much pain and worry he causes his companions by giving up on himself over and over again, his companions never give up on him. And he doesn’t understand why!! He doesn’t think he’s worth it. But it’s not his choice, it’s theirs. And they will go through as many tries, as much pain, as much time as it takes, before they can finally save him.

I love you, so I will wait fifty years for you. I love you, so I will live through thousands of lifetimes to find you. I love you, so I will read and reread your story for the rest of time, just to keep you alive.

[magicpiano]

One thing that I think most 'Tim joins the batfam early' fics miss is that Tim, a very intelligent and independent child who has been doing a dangerous hobby for years, would hate being adopted actually. All the new rules meant to keep him safe? At best annoying, at worst he feels like he is in prison.

To Tim, he just lost his freedom, privacy, and independence, no matter how good the batfam is in reality.

"I need to tell you when I am leaving the house, where I am going and how long I will be gone? The bare minimum parents typically ask from their middle school aged children? No."

Normal good responsible parenting would be torture for Tim.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.

I don’t think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design… these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they weren’t telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback… only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.

Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helen’s wedding in the beginning of the film - they weren’t just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. It’s even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.

The relief on Bob’s face when he realises Syndrome doesn’t know where Helen is - meaning he also doesn’t know where their children are because he didn’t realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.

It’s also worth noting that originally the next target wasn’t Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is “known”. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadn’t realised that Mr Incredible was with him and they’d lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and he’d have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.

This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Lucius’ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, it’s mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breed” - meaning there’s a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.

Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.

Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.

I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.

[raven-dor]

me and my husband

In which gwayne hightower is overprotective of his pregnant wife, and she begins to worry about the outcome of the birth

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader

WARNINGS: angst, anxiety, rough pregnancy, mentions of blood, arguing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

AN: I read "chose me" by @entitled-fangirl and had to write something similar for gwayne!! this could also be read as part of the come back to me universe, but you do not have to read any other fic to understand the context!!

She watched from the dark hall, her heart fluttering as he leaned back, exposing his neck and upper chest. Pregnancy awoke a dangerous animal inside her, one that needed her husband near her at all times. 

Instead, he sat in his office. 

She could not blame him; it was hard work, taking care of Old Town in place of his uncle’s absence. Seeing as his cousin had died recently, Gwayne would stand to inherit the Hightower title, and he all but jumped at the chance to begin his training.

But as of late, it seemed as if she needed him more than he needed her. Mere thoughts seemed to drown out her happiness, every attempt to block them futile. The larger she grew, the closer she got to the inevitable. She cleared her throat, making herself known to her husband. 

“Gwayne?” He looked up, smiling brightly. 

“My love! You should be in bed.” He stood up, ushering her over to a cushion. She glared, letting him coddle her for now.

“I am not inept.” 

“I know, darling.” He knelt in front of her, kissing her hand gently. “But you also know that I cannot help but worry for you.” He caressed her stomach, whispering. “And how is our little one?” 

“You have no need to worry, I assure you. The Maesters say the babe is perfectly healthy; there is no cause for concern.”

“And you?” He kissed her hand once more. “How do you fare?”

She was taken aback by that question, avoiding the question. “Do not worry about me.” 

“That is my job as your husband.” He walked back to his desk, putting out the flickering candle. “And Maesters are not always correct.” 

“That is a rather skeptical view.” She grabbed the handles of the chair, pushing herself up. Gwayne glared. 

“Please ask for my aid next time you plan on standing.” 

“Shall I ask you to help me relieve myself as well?” She glared back. “I love you; you know that I do. But I am not a frail piece of straw. I will not break from a gust of wind.”

“You are carrying the future heir to the Hightower name, my dear.” 

Terms like that make her uneasy. That is all she heard all day. ‘Future heir,’ ‘Hightower name,’ ‘a boy.’ All phrases she had heard over a hundred times. She just wanted a moment of peace where she was not reminded how little she mattered in this situation. A tight smile graced her lips, and she lost all humor in her tone. “As I am constantly reminded.” 

He grabbed her hand, walking slowly out of the office. “All I ask is that you take care. If not for me, then for the sake of our child.” 

“I am careful.” She glared. “You know this. It’s not as if I go looking for things to hurt the babe. Do not treat me like a child to be watched over.” 

He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. “I do not mean to upset you-” 

“Well, you have.” She scoffed. “You have somehow managed to insult my care for your future line and my child in one blow. It is astonishing, truly. I applaud you.” 

“You know that was not my intention.” He shut their bedroom door, removing his shirt. Y/N tried to keep herself from blushing at the sight, but when he looked like that, it was hard to do. He knelt in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. “I am sorry.” 

She hummed, walking away and sitting in front of her vanity. “Yes, well, I suppose I forgive you.” 

He grinned. “I am glad of it.” 

The woods were peaceful, a nice retreat from the bustling of Old Town. Her velvet green dress dragging behind her. She hummed, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the trees swaying. There was a lake nearby that she desperately wanted to swim in, and stare up into the sky of blue. Pushing the tall grass out of her way, the clearing stretched out before her, the lake at the center. She grinned, running down the hill with a newfound joy.

“Y/N? Where are you?” 

Her smile fell, remembering the whole reason she had even been ‘allowed�� to go on this excursion. He’d only let her go if he came along. She sighed, turning around and walking back up the hill. “Coming, my love.” 

The auburn-haired man smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Where did you run off to?” 

“The clearing.” She traced shapes on his chest. “I was thinking, perhaps you could join me for a swim. It is a perfect day for it.” 

“I-” 

“My lord.” Their guard’s voice echoed through the forest. Y/N groaned, falling against her husband’s chest. Gwayne kissed the top of her head, smiling sympathetically. “Another time, I swear to you.” She sighed, nodding. A finger hooked under her chin, his eyes serious. “You look far too melancholy, my love.” 

“Well, perhaps if-” 

“My lord, I’m sorry, but it is most urgent.” 

Gwayne sighed, intertwining his hand with hers. “What is it?”

The Maester’s Wing was dim, with just a few candles keeping light. Gwayne had been summoned to settle a squabble between the townfolk, leaving Y/N to visit the old man herself. She tapped her foot, waiting for the Maester to ask her the questions she dreaded. But those questions never came. 

“My lady.” 

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Maester Jon, it is wonderful to see you.” She held her stomach. “Tell me, any developments my husband or I should be aware of?” 

“Unfortunately, yes, my lady.” He sat down. “It seems, from what we can tell so far, that the birth may result in a breach pregnancy.” Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she felt her breath catch. “A breach pregnancy may result in a choice needing to be made.” He leaned forward, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do you understand what this means, my lady?” 

She nodded, standing up quickly. “I do. Thank you, Maester Jon. I shall relay the news to my lord husband.”

She gave one last look at the dark corner before practically running out of the wing. She burst through the hall doors, dinner in full swing. There sat Gwayne, eyes drooping, visibly exhausted from his duties. 

Who was she to worry him anymore?

Y/N sat beside her husband, kissing his cheek. “How was your day, my love?” 

“Infinitely better, now that you are here.” He smiled. “How was the visit?” 

She took a large sip of her wine. “Well. All is well.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I love you.” 

He grinned, squeezing back. “I love you much more, my dear.” 

If he chose the babe, she knew she would surely die from heartbreak before she bled. She laughed, her eyes watering. “I do not think that is possible.” 

Since learning of the news, she’d been restless, barely sleeping and often waking before the sun. Its bright rays peeked through the curtains, hitting her skin. The warmth soothed her for a moment, but it was just that, a moment. 

The babe kicked harshly, a quiet groan leaving her. She stared at the ceiling, thinking that in just a few short weeks, she’d be giving birth in this very bed, staring at the same ceiling. 

It had always been described to her as horrible and painful beyond recognition. And now that she was carrying an heir, which could possibly be breach, she almost wished she could go back to when they first met and stop herself. When she didn’t have to worry about what she did or where she went, she could just be free. 

He would be pressured into choosing the child over her; she knew this. Sometimes, when the need for an heir was strong, women had been carelessly cut open, being left for dead. It had been done many times, most notably in her lifetime, by King Viserys. Rhaenyra had told her of his actions: how he’d carelessly cut Aemma open, and her mother bled out on the bed without ever getting to hold her babe. 

She looked over at her husband, fast asleep and dead to the world. His hair covered his eyes; his face was shoved into the pillow haphazardly. She giggled; he’d always slept like there was no tomorrow; it was heartwarming, to say the least. She leaned over, pushing the hair out of his face, kissing his forehead gently. 

 Rolling to her side, she quietly stood, careful not to wake him. Grabbing her robe from the wardrobe, she made her way to the dining hall, eager to eat something of actual sustenance. 

After learning of the news, she had picked at her dinner, telling Gwayne it was because the babe made her nauseous. 

In a way, it had. 

The smell of bacon and eggs flooded her senses, and she rounded the corner, the doors of the hall wide open. Greeting the occasional servant that passed by, she sat down, piling food onto her plate. 

“My lord.” Y/N looked up to see her husband stalking toward her, not even acknowledging the man who had greeted him. Odd, he normally slept as long as he could before starting his day. She smiled brightly. “Good morning, my love.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it a good morning?” 

“Quite.” She tilted her head. “Why? Is something amiss?” 

He nodded, crossing his arms. “I awoke, and my wife was gone. Imagine my surprise.” 

She had felt horrible leaving him, and fighting would only give him more cause to choose the babe. “I am sorry if I scared you.” 

“You should be. And another-” He stopped, shock adorning his features. “You are sorry?” 

“I should have woken you. It was my mistake.” She pat the chair next to her. “Please, join me.” 

“I’m afraid I cannot. I have to meet with the steward this morning.” 

Her heart clenched. “I can join you if you’d like-” 

“It is not necessary. I will only bore you.” 

She murmured, reaching out to grab his hand. “You have never bored me.” 

“You are kind, but I’m sorry, I cannot be distracted.” He grabbed a plate, placing a biscuit and two pieces of bacon haphazardly.

She scoffed, glaring at her lord husband. “I did not realize I was such a distraction."

"Y/N...."

"Perhaps I should stay in my chambers for the remainder of my pregnancy. To keep you from further distraction.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” 

She stood, her eyes cold. “I know nothing of the sort.” She looked over his shoulder, beckoning over a servant. “Please move my things into the adjoining room. I will be sleeping there-” 

Gwayne sat his plate down, looking at the servant. “Do not move her things.”  

“My lady?” The young girl looked frightened, scared that she was caught in the middle of their argument. 

Y/N sighed, dismissing the girl. “It is alright.” She walked away, yelling back at her husband. “I shall do it myself.” 

“Y/N!” Gwayne yelled, dropping his plate and running after her. “Come back here at once.” 

She ignored him, walking faster. The stairs proved to be a challenge, holding the railing tight. Gwayne placed a hand on her back. “Let me-” 

She flinched, pushing him back. “Don’t.” 

He mumbled. “You may hate me all you want after this.” 

“After what-” He hooked his arm under her legs, carrying her up the stairs. “Gwayne Hightower! You let me down right now!” 

The top of the stairs was a relief; she practically jumped out of his arms. She walked into their joint chambers, filling her trunk with things she would need. Gwayne sighed, watching from the doorway. “Will you please just-” 

“I will leave you to your devices, my lord. I hope your meetings prove well spent.” Dragging the trunk through the door, she slammed it in his face. 

That had been three days ago. They’d seen each other in the halls and at meals, but other than that, Y/N steered clear of her husband. For the better part of the day, he’d been in a meeting with the patrons of Old Town, or so she’d heard. Y/N took that as an opportunity, rushing out of the castle’s gates. Squealing, she cut through the tall grass once more, racing down the hill towards the lake. She threw her dress off, her petticoat barely revealing her modesty. Not that anyone would see, this part of the wood was only known by the family. 

The water did wonders for her nerves, cooling her skin. Her hair stretched out past her waist, flowing like the tall grass that surrounded this oasis. She floated for what seemed like hours; the babe had not stirred once. She hummed, rubbing her bump gently. “It is quite peaceful here, is it not?” 

A kick. 

Y/N grinned, her eyes tearing up. “Please, try your best to make this an easy birth. It would break my heart not to meet you. If that is the case, don’t worry. Your father’s a good man; he’ll raise you well.” 

No kick. 

She laughed. “Do not ignore your mother. It’s quite disrespectful.” 

A kick. 

“I miss him too, my love.” 

A voice broke through the silence. “Miss who exactly?” 

Y/N jumped, standing in the water. “My lord, I did not expect you-” 

“I was in a meeting when a guard informed me you were running out of the castle gates.” His face looked conflicted, but she didn’t want to address the fact that he most likely heard that whole ‘conversation,’ so she remained silent. “Is there something you wish to tell me?” 

So he had heard. She smiled, trying to act as if nothing was wrong. “I do not know what you are referring to, my lord.” 

“Stop.” Gwayne sighed. “You haven’t called me that since before we were engaged, and I do not wish for you to start again.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Please come out of the lake.” 

She walked past his hand to her dress, every attempt to retrieve it proving futile. “Here.” Gwayne knelt down, picking it up off the stump. “What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?” 

“I would have figured it out, thank you very much.” She glared, pulling the frock over her head. “Do you not have another meeting to attend, my lord?” 

“I canceled them.” He laughed, stepping forward. “After I heard my wife was running away from our home, I thought it best to tend to the matter myself.” 

“How wise of you.” Y/N crossed her arms. 

“Shall we go to bed?” 

“I am not tired.” She walked up the hill, leaving him behind. “Have a restful night, my lord.” 

She slammed her bedroom door shut, leaning against it. She was tired; she hated to admit it. But she wouldn’t have told him that. She walked over to the window, placing the bouquet she picked on the mantle. A reminder of the freedom she once had. A reminder of life before she faced death itself. 

A knock rang out. “May I come in?” 

She tensed. “If you must.” She faced the window, too scared to face him. If she looked at him, truly looked at him, she thought she would start crying. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

“I have to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

She nodded, walking away from the window and placing her robe in her wardrobe. “Ask it then.” 

“Do you still love me?”

Her heart stopped. “I-” 

Gwayne stepped forward, wrapping a singular arm around her waist. He drew her in, his scent engulfing her senses. She fought herself not to fall for his spell, but as he leaned his head down, and his breath hitting her neck, she knew she would not last. “If you do not, speak it plainly because I- I cannot go on like this any longer.” 

She turned around in his arms, placing her arms on his chest. “I do not believe I could ever stop loving you. Trust me when I say this.” She smiled. “I’m afraid it’s terminal.” 

“Ah.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Then what is it that troubles you so?” 

“I do not know what you-” 

“I beg you, do not finish that sentence.” He tilted her chin up, worry in his eyes. “What ales you, my love?” 

“I am simply nervous.” She to be out of his arms. The longer she stayed in his embrace, the more compelled she felt to tell him. “It is nothing, I swear to you.”

He raised his eyebrows, pulling her hands from his chest and kissing them gently. “Please do not lie to me.”

“That night I visited the Maester, he told me something.” He nodded. “He said with the way the pregnancy is progressing, it is possible that the babe will be born breach.” Her voice grew quieter the longer she spoke. 

“That’s not all, is it?” 

She pushed out of his hold, walking to the other side of the room. “I’m so sorry, Gwayne. Truly, I am. Please forgive me-” a sob wrecked her body. “But I want to live. Please.” 

Gwayne shook his head. Where was this coming from? “Whatever are you talking about?” 

“I know I have been acting radical as of late, and I apologize, I just thought-” She hiccuped. “I thought it would make your choice easier.” 

“What choice, darling?” 

She whispered. “Between me and the babe.” 

“Why would I-” It dawned on him. Had she really been dealing with this all by herself? “Oh, my sweet girl. Why did you not tell me?” 

“I didn’t want to stress you any further.” She hugged herself. “Please, Gwayne. I swear I will give you another heir if this pregnancy-” She shivered. “Just don’t cut me. I beg you.” 

He dropped down in front of her, grabbing her hands in his. “Listen to me well. I could sire a hundred children, but you. You are one of a kind, and I will always choose you.” He kissed the back of her hands once more. “Irreplaceable. You must know this.” 

“Gwayne, no one is truly irreplaceable.” 

He stood, his eyes dark. “Do not say such things again. Swear it to me.” 

“I-” 

“Swear it, Y/N.” 

“I swear.” She whispered, cheeks red. “I swear to you.” 

He nodded, smiling lightly. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For coddling you.” He stepped closer, caressing her bump. “I am scared as well. My own mother had many a difficult pregnancy, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” 

“I am sorry as well.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “I should have come to you with my worries. I did not want to burden you. And I will make sure you have your heir. I promise you that.” 

“I do not care if the Hightower name crumbles away into nothingness. As long as you are content, I will be as well.” He leaned down, their foreheads touching. “There would be no point to this without you. I fear I could not do this if you were not by my side.” 

“You have been doing perfectly fine as of late.” She winced. "I truly am sorry.” 

“No more of that.” He whispered, staring at her lips. “May we please go to bed?” 

She nodded, knowing if she tried to speak that words would fail her. She lay on the bed beside him, tracing his freckles. “Sleep, my love.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I will be here when you wake, I promise.” 

[bats-and-the-birds]

I made a post involving young/feral/perceived cryptid Dick Grayson and someone tagged something about Barry Allen losing his mind when this terrifying child befriends his nephew and I have NOT stopped thinking about this since.

Because like, imagine you're Barry Allen. You've been doing this hero thing for a while, and you've seen a lot of things, but now your nephew has gotten himself wrapped up in this too, and goddamnit, you're worried because you know this life isn't easy.

Then he makes a friend - Ollie's boy, Roy Harper - and you breathe a little bit easier, because you know that however rough this life is, it's worse without friends. Besides, it's sweet. They're young boys, and they roughhouse, and tell stupid jokes, and play video games together sometimes. It's nice to see Wally just be a kid with someone that he doesn't have to hide from. And, yeah, sure, they get into trouble sometimes, pull pranks that go too far, get themselves in danger because they think they can take on something they can't, but it's still a net positive, because you need friends in this line of work, and that's exactly what they've found.

And you think about Robin. Not often, but you do think about him. Because you know nothing about him, and you don't want to, but he still has the face of a boy that's younger than your nephew. You wonder if he has friends.

But really, you don't think about him that much. You don't want to. He's freaky, and generally, thinking too hard about anything to do with the Bat is inadvisable.

Then there's a fight. A big one. You don't even really know who's fighting on your side until everything has cleared. It was basically the entire Justice League, no one dead, but a few injuried. And your nephew's there too. And Roy. And Robin.

No one really goes near Robin, ever. It was an unspoken rule, of sorts, and you're pretty sure it's just because everyone's scared of messing with Batman's little bird, though whether that was due to fear of Batman or the bird himself, you're not sure.

But Wally doesn't seem to know this. Wally doesn't seem to care. He runs up to Robin with a big grin on his face and grabs his hand, trying to tug him over to where Roy was patching up some injuries.

You notice that Robin doesn't go with him immediately. In fact, he looks confused. But if you know anything about your nephew, he's persistent, and eventually Robin lets himself be dragged over. Roy seems unconcerned, but you can tell that the other adults in the vicinity shift uncomfortably, unsure of what they should do, or if they should do anything at all.

It doesn't last long anyway. Batman calls for Robin and he bounds off, but you notice he stops and hesitantly waves a gloved hand at your nephew before he leaves. Wally waves back.

You don't think much of it.

Then, the next time you and Ollie catch Wally and Roy fighting something they shouldn't be, Robin's right there with them. It's the first time you've seen Robin without Batman in close proximity, and you think he looks just a little bit more human. He smiles sheepishly with the other boys when they're chastised for fighting things that they shouldn't, and you watch Roy ruffle his hair like there's nothing to be worried about. You're still worried.

You still don't think much of it though. Even when Robin's there with the two of them the next time, and the time after that.

But then, oh dear god, he's in your house. You don't actually notice him at first, for two whole hours, because it's normal to see Wally and Roy sitting on the couch and playing video games. You just don't realize that there's a third head in between them until you sit down in an adjacent armchair to see what they're playing, because Robin is just short enough that his head doesn't peak over the back of the couch.

You have to blink a few times to make sure what you're seeing is real, because nestled in between the two slightly older heroes in their civilian attire is Robin, sans his gloves, cape, and boots, but otherwise still in full uniform with his mask still firmly in place, holding a video game controller and laughing while Wally elbows his side to try to make him lose.

And you just sit back in your chair and stare, because what the hell are you even supposed to do in this situation? Your nephew has decided to make friends with Batman's goddamn son - the boy that you've seen sneak up on League members with super hearing, break a grown man's femur, and somehow fade into shadows in a bright yellow cape - and it worked. And now he's playing video games on your couch. And you don't know what to do about that.

[auroreliis]

what if reader had k*lled someone before and the batfam (yandere) dis not know like «I dont need your damn protection» reader said to the batfam «but the world is so dangerous out there and your just a baby» the batfam said to reader « B!TCH I have k*lled someone the f you mean im a baby?!?» the batfam with horrified expresion «WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!»

That last little part is a funny little over dramatic way it might go.

Oh, you are COOKED. (Do pardon my use of brainrot language...)

CW: mentions of murder...obviously

The first thing they do is isolate you in a room and keep you there for a while until they figure out what to do with you (and so you can think about what you've done).

What happens next? Therapy sessions, which they all agreed on.

Don't worry, you will tell them everything, specifically Bruce, since he's the one carrying out the therapy sessions.

"Why did you kill that person?"

"How do you feel about it now?"

"Do you regret it?"

"How do you feel after our conversation?"

He pities the person you ended up killing and feels a little disappointed. A life was taken by you, an innocent person's life. He didn't raise you like this, did he...?

However, he also pities you. Unless you are trained to kill someone, it breaks you. He's seen it so many times, people commiting murders and then panicking, breaking down, because they couldn't live with the consequences of their actions.

You're a mere civilian, how could you ever have been exposed to that kind of environment? How could he let this happen? No, it is his fault for waiting so long before saving you from the world. He will teach you why it's wrong. He will make sure you heal and never take another life again. After all, it is his job as your father to guide you in life.

That's right, the only reason you could've done it is because you didn't know any better. You are a mere child in this old, cruel world, after all.

In the end, he holds himself accountable. He should've done better. He should've protected you better from the cruel world you live in.

Dick would be shocked. His little birdie, his angel, killed someone? Impossible. You're so innocent, like a baby, so how could this be true? He would take some time off to come to terms with the fact that you're not the kind of person he expected. When he comes back, after a week, he seems slightly distant.

With time, following your therapy sessions, he will return to his normal, clingy, annoying self. However, you can't help but wonder why he was acting so weird that one week.

Despite the fact that he also kills people, Jason is incredibly suprised and disappointed after hearing that you killed someone. Unlike everyone else, he feels anger. You're so young, so innocent, you grew up in a place where murdering someone was not necessary, so why would you do it? He doesn't kill people because he wants to, he only does it because he needs to. But you didn't need to do it.

That's what upsets him most. You chose to do it. You willingly took a life.

Despite being so hurt, so broken, he still feels an ounce hesitation when killing people, so how come you, someone who didn't go through what he did, could kill someone in a situation that wasn't even self-defense? Nothing could possibly justify it! And here you are, proudly announcing it to them. You should be ashamed.

He kills murderers, so what should he do with you? Does that make you as bad as the criminals he kills? God, he doesn't even want to think about it.

Jason won't get over it for at least a month. He'll be very distant around you and won't be seen smiling for a long time. Towards you exclusively, his behaviour becomes incredibly bitter. In fact, he's the one who most strongly encourages Bruce to carry out the long, grueling therapy sessions. He really thinks it'll do you good...

Tim's reaction would be more mild than expected. He would certainly feel uncomfortable with the fact that you seemingly feel not an ounce of guilt or regret. However, he wouldn't change his behaviour too much for too long.

During the first week, he'd be a bit more careful with his affection towards you. No, it's not because he's scared. He simply wants to observe you and see how effective the therapy sessions are. If he feels that your attitude towards murder hasn't changed, he would encourage Bruce to be more intense during the therapy sessions.

He would be more careful with the activities he offers you, since Bruce called a meeting with everyone to establish more rules, those being directed at Tim mostly. Tim's "cool, lenient older brother"-act needs to change.

From now on, no crime films or shows (especially not any violent ones), no crime documentaries, no crime or detective books, no vular language, no threats towards anyone or anything and for at least 14 months, no leaving the manor.

This change will probably be permanent.

[harunayuuka2060]

*The field trip is coming to an end, and everyone has been asked to pack up their things to be ready when it's time to leave.*

Idia: Ah... finally. I can return to the comfort of my room.

MC: Why, Idia? Didn't you have a good time here?

Idia: Huh, no, obviously not. I wanted to ditch the whole trip, but Ortho kept dragging me back.

MC: *chuckles*

MC: I'd say you couldn’t bear to make Ortho sad, being the caring older brother you are.

Idia: ...

Idia: Speaking of Ortho, what’s keeping him so long?

MC: Ah, now that you mention it, he should’ve been here by now.

Idia and MC: ...

MC: I'll go check on how he's doing.

Idia: K.

MC: *walks away*

Idia: ...

Malleus: Shroud, where is my child? It's already time to leave.

Idia: *looks like he's panicking* Th-They're gone... Even Ortho... I couldn't find them...

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *heads off to search for his child*

Idia: *still tries to contact Ortho but with no avail*

Idia: No, please... Tell me this is just a prank...

MC: *hiding from the arcane hunters, holding Ortho safely in their arms*

Arcane Hunter A: Damn that fae! They're good at hiding!

Arcane Hunter B: Don’t worry! They won’t get far from here!

Arcane Hunter A: Haha, yes! With a robot in their arms, there's no way they could escape!

MC: ...

MC: I should warn the others, but moving recklessly might give away our hiding spot. And with Ortho unconscious... what should I do—

MC: *remembers the necklace given by Maleficia*

MC: !!!

Riddle: We can't just abandon them!

Ruggie: Yeah! We can fight!

Professor Crewel: Silence!

Riddle and Ruggie: ...

Professor Crewel: MC managed to inform us through the Queen of Briar Valley. They're facing arcane hunters who can neutralize magic. If we were at an advantage, don’t you think MC would fight them on their own?

Professor Trein: We don't know how many there are or why they're here. We can't take the risk of an ambush that could put the students' lives in danger.

Leona: What about the lizard? He already went ahead to rescue his child.

Professor Crewel: What—

Leona: All Diasomnia students to be exact.

Professor Crewel and Professor Trein: ...

Professor Trein: Oh this is not going to end well...

Sebek: Let’s hurry! They can’t be far away!

Diasomnia students: Yes!

Silver: *receives news from the birds in the area*

Silver: Sebek! Enemies are ahead!

Sebek: Everyone! Ready your weapons—

Lilia: Stop!

Sebek: L-Lilia-sama!

Lilia: MC wants us to retreat.

Malleus: Yes. It's dangerous.

Silver: M-Malleus!

Malleus: We can't risk everyone's safety.

Sebek: B-But Waka-sama!

Malleus: Retreat.

Silver, Sebek, and the rest of Diasomnia students: ...

Arcane hunter A: See? Surrendering was the easy choice.

MC: Now that we're your hostages, may I ask who your real target is?

Arcane hunter B: Heh, do you think we'll answer that?

MC: Why not? I could be a valuable source of information.

Arcane hunter A: Only a fool would believe that!

Arcane hunter B: And if you insist, we'll leave that robot behind!

MC: I apologize for asking.

Arcane hunters: Hmph!

MC: ...

Ortho: MC—

MC: Shh.

Ortho: ...

MC: *smiles* We'll be fine.

Ortho: ...

Ortho: *nods slightly*

[yeyinde]

ghoapxreader in the baby trapping series IM BEGGING 🧎‍♀️

i think i've exhausted the whole "tampering with contraceptives" thing to death by now so i would probably do something different with them. like a surrogate situation or something, but awful lmao

maybe down on her luck reader is in desperate need of cash, and these two men swoop in to save you from this horrible pit you've fallen into.

you need money. they need a baby.

simple, right?

except the simplicity falls apart when they blatantly tell you they want a natural insemination—as in, a threesome.

multiple, the pretty Scot tells you. after all, it has tae take, hen.

(and this is the part where you should have run. the moment when you'd be screaming at the television at the hapless protagonist as they walk mindlessly into danger despite the warning signs hanging overhead. but like the oblivious hero, you're too blinded by pretty, gleaming white to realise that the thing you're marveling over is a maw. cracked open wide and full of jagged, deadly teeth rearing up to sink inside of you.

but the problem with making shady deals when you're desperate is that no one really bothers to read the fine print, do they? and by the time you see past their crooked charm, you're waving your child off as they skip up the stairs to school, standing like a prisoner between them as they lean down and ask if you're ready for another—)

but that comes later.

what comes first is message on Craiglist.

one that you spend less time considering it than you should have. desperation, you find, clouds your judgement. blots out common sense. makes you susceptible to manipulation. and oh, how susceptible you are. despite priding yourself on your common sense and keen self-awareness, the overarching issues hanging over your head like an idling guillotine seem to erase that instructive need for self-preservation.

so, when the message itself pops up, you're already primed for making bad choices. ones out of malformed desperation. the barrage of texts from your landlord demanding rent, the ones sent to your family in moments of dire need asking for fruitless aid that will never come in time if the read receipts mean anything at all. the package from HR apologising for the inconvenience, but this was, regrettably, the only feasible option for the company at present, and too bad you didn't sign up for that union, huh? student loans. credit cards.

the measureable calamity of your life manifests itself in the shape of a black cloud hanging onto your aching shoulder, wrapping long, inkstained fingers around your jugular as it hisses the insurmountable figure needed to climb out of this pit in your ear.

sleepless, of course, hasn't helped.

and in that bog you can't swim through, their offer sounds far more appealing than it should.

let's meet up somewhere, comes the next message at half past three in the morning as you talk yourself in (and out) of this mess. talk about things more.

what else are you supposed to do?

job hunting sites mock you with their generic emails, thanking you for applying, and saying they'll reach out within a few business days for an interview if you're a good fit. ones sent off weeks ago. hundreds of them to no avail. it's almost like you're being plagued. blacklisted from the city.

even the fast food chain down the street refused your application when you sent it in, and the help wanted sign has been taped on the drive-thru window since you were sixteen.

it all pushes you closer and closer to making stupid choices, like replying with a simple (nervous, shaky, bile-tinged) sure to the message they sent. i'm down—

(—and drowning)

but you're smart enough to know better, so you act like it, too.

ping your location to your friends. tell them where you're going. clutch your keys so tightly in your fist that your knuckles just out through thin skin. layers upon layers of safety measures glimpsed through the various articles about how to stay alive.

but all the tremulous air is siphoned from your lungs when you see them for the first time.

something magnetic thrums through your chest. copper sutures running lines from their skin to yours until touching just seems like the most natural thing in the world. and you suppose it is when the pretty Scot folds you into a tight hug, cinching you close to his chest as if he's known you his whole life instead of just several seconds.

he's a thing of beauty. chiselled from marble, almost; David made human when he runs his tanned hand through the tumble of uneven hair along his crown. eyes the same varicoloured palette of a boscage in autumn framed in the setting sun's golden halo.

there's a distinct ruggedness about his beauty, too. one that reminds of you a lion's mane. the sleek fur of a stallion. pretty in a wild way. and as his eyes list towards you again and again, like he can't quite manage his fill of staring at you, taking you in, you think about that wildness again. the hunger in his eyes so similiar to the desperation of a predator fattening up for the encroaching chill of winter. it makes you shiver, but you can't look away

(because you know what's waiting for you when you do)

and when you finally pluck up the courage to glance at the shape devouring the light with his intimidating bulk, you come to quick realisation that if Johnny is the personification of an autumn evening, then the man standing next to him is the tried and true testament that bad things happen after dark.

he's a strange figure, one who veers almost comically into the uncanny valley with his hood pulled over the plain, black ballcap hanging low over his brow. a balaclava covering every inch of his face with the exception of a small, ovaled hole for his eyes. remnants of something ashy smear into the corners, running up the crooked bend of his nose.

he doesn't look like a real man—not with those liquid, haunting eyes—but at the same time, there's something preternaturally human about him. a stereotypical sense of masculinity—just one warped around the edges.

with his worn jeans pulled tight over thick, bulging thighs, and the silver zipper of his hoodie resting at the base of his throat, you could easily think he was just another man in the crowd, but it's off. a glitch. a skip.

like mistaking a coat rack for a man in the dead of night.

eerie.

dangerous.

if the man beside him is playfully carnivorous, a basking lion rolling onto his belly at the zoo, separated by thick glass, then he (Simon, Johnny supplies readily when the silence lingers; Simon Riley), Simon, is what it feels like to be followed home at night.

but—

there's something about fear and desire that are almost inseparable when broken down into a physiological response.

and when he steps up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body soaking into the drying sweat on your back, you liken the way your heart climbs up your throat to same as it would seeing a dorsal fin cutting above the waves in open water.

desire, you think, and then catching the white-hot burn of the stare, you add, in a thin whisper: fear.

when they sit you down, and begin to spin a story about how they just want a baby—no strings attached—you stay seated in the chair even as an itch in the back of your head starts, nails scraping at your skull.

their reluctance toward traditional methods makes sense when they explain that with their lifestyle, it's impossible—or the Scottish man does; the other one with a marbled skin of thick, ugly scars on his hands just stares, pinning you down with the weight of his gaze—and this arrangement is the only way they'll get the baby they've been hoping for.

and even though the scratching in your head sounds suspiciously like why you and run, you eat the food they bought for you in the fancy restaurant where appetisers start at $30, and a glass of water is priced at $6. volcanic spring water, the waiter explains as he pours it from a marbled glass pitcher.

you haven't eaten a real meal that wasn't microwavable or cup noodles in weeks.

maybe that's why you find yourself thinking why not instead of no.

they're attractive men. it's not the worst situation you could have found yourself in, even if the idea of parenthood—however brief it's supposed to be—has bile clawing up the back of your throat, and the bones housing your trembling heart feeling laden, heavy like iron, and starts to cinch your chest shut each day, squeezing tighter, and tighter, and—

they drop off the first the installment to you the moment your doctor starts to talk about boerhaave syndrome, as if they know the doubts that plague your head when they leave your apartment and the silence starts to mock you.

and that leads you here.

guilt for their situation. desperation over your own. an overarching need to please. it's all a dangerous cocktail that douses over rationality until you're nodding along, accepting their words as gospel until sleeping with them—multiple times—doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

until it happens. until you have Johnny and Simon actively working to knock you up. a marathon of intense sex with the single-minded goal of putting their baby in you.

Johnny drooling all over you as he ruts between your thighs, mindlessly driving himself into a frenzy as he slurres out his desires in an incomprehensible mess of English and Gaelic and animalistic grunts. barely pulling out in time before Simon is pressing your knee down to the mattress, cooing mockingly at the mess his boy made of you. cruelly taking bets as he slides into your sore, aching cunt about who will take first. his or Johnny's? and who do you want, birdie? who's baby do you want first?

fingers always shoving inside to cap the overflow when they exhaust themselves in a liquid-limbed stupor, barely conscious as you tapped out some three, four rounds ago. unable to keep your eyes open any longer as they both came to the same conclusion that cumming inside of you at the same time was the quickest way to knock you up together. ain't he a romantic, birdie?

and it's probably for the best that you passed out before it happened, drooling on Simon's scarred shoulder as he gripped the cheeks of your ass, pulling you wide open as Johnny shuffled forward between his spread legs, eyes riveted to the spot where Simon's cock split you open. the ache you felt the next morning, coming to on a broad chest with fingers stuffed inside of you—shush, shush, just keeping you nice an' plugged, sweetheart—was almost unbearable.

you expected them to clear out after getting what they want, but they stay. tend to you carefully like you're made of fine china.

or—Johnny does. bundles you up in his arms before setting off towards the bath, finally letting you wash the sticky, flaking grime from your skin, some awful mixture of drying cum, spit, and sweat, groaning in your ear as he pulls you to his damp, hairy chest about how sweet you are for them. how they're going to take care of you.

Simon caters to other things. packs your bags as Johnny scrubs thick fingers over your shoulders, pausing to grasp a sore, tender breast in his palm, hefting the weight up as he feverishly mutters about how hot it'll be to watch you feed their baby. an' maybe you'll let him have a little taste, too—

and when you finally emerge from the bath, sorer between the thighs than you were when you woke up, another mess pooling in the gusset of the panties he pulled up your legs, Simon's waiting, eyes riveted to your belly. staring at it with so much hunger, a cold sweat breaks out along the nape of your neck.

in the grand scheme of things, the threesome is the easy part. the hard part comes when they turn the arrangement into a prison, locking the shackles around your wrists when the pregnancy test comes back positive a few weeks later.

they're only doing what's best for their baby, they say, when they move you out of your apartment and into theirs. the cut lease was the only way to do it, Johnny says, shrugging. why make you pay for something you aren't using anymore?

and maybe if your head was thickened with a fog, you'd have questioned the phrasing, but as it stands, pregnancy, even as early as this one, adles you. leaves you a syrupy mess of emotions that they take turns exploiting. aren't you so lonely all by yourself, hen? don' ye want a family?

aren't they good enough for you?

it's less subliminal messaging and more overt coersion. what are you going to do after this? where will you go with your lease cut? and when the funds run dry? what then?

gonna find another couple to knock you up? Simon hisses, mangled hands mauling your belly, pinching and squeezing the flesh as if he could feel the fragile box their happiness is housed inside. should jus' stay with us if that's the case, birdie.

but it's all so sweet, in its own way—

(—sweet like a parasite nesting inside of it's host.

but at least you'll never be lonely.)

they stand by the fact that they're looking out for you. that they care. that they can't do much else but idle and watch your body evolve into something new (an' magnificent, Johnny breathes, kissing this unfamiliar shape you call home) and it grates at them because they're not used to feeling so useless, so can't you just let them do this for you? take care of you in all the ways they see fit? like cutting your lease and giving you a better place to stay. handing in your resignation from that shitty nine to five that wore you down to the bone. culling out the annoyances in your life—the friends and family—who kick up needless fits over your wellbeing, and just stress you out more than you need to be.

they're not good enough for you, is what Simon says when you ask why he blocked them from your phone, Johnny hovering by the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. barring the exits, you'll realise later. but what comes first is fear, is anger, is—

happiness. maybe. or some broken, fragile facsimile of it. a subpar humuliculus masquerading around as if it was realised flesh and bone.

"oh," you say, and think you should be touched by his care, his concern, and so you are. shape this emotion from the sludge that pools at the bottom of your chest, running fingers through the muck to find pieces of gold. and then: "thank you, Simon."

it's sweet. or it could have been if it didn't spiral out of your control when they systematically dismantle your entire life until all you're left with is loose sediment slipping through your fingers. the foundation itself soften clay they shape into the image they've been after with the whole time: you.

(or more specifically, a momma for their baby.)

and when they ask you, at the end of this thin, fraying tether, if you want to be with them—an equal, a mother—and be a mother again for them, there's nothing else you could say except yes.

nothing because they made it so.

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Hazbin Hotel x Sick!Reader

A/N: Hey guys! I wanted to do some more x reader headcanons just because they’re so fun! I love the idea of the characters caring for you when you’re sick, it’s just so cute. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Hazbin Hotel x Reader

Warnings: None (if you don't count tooth-rotting fluff) 

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

Essentially hides you away in his room: wants more than anything to take care of you, but refuses to expose this “softer” side of him to anyone else. If anybody knew that you were the Radio Demon’s only weakness, not only would that put him in danger, but you as well.

Will prepare any food that your heart desires - his mother brought him up to be an excellent cook! His recommended feel-good food is his mother’s jambalaya, but you absolutely love when he makes etouffee!

If anybody dares to try and disturb your well-needed sleep, he broadcasts their screams to remind them just why the hotel has a radio tower… 

Will suggest that you take advantage of the bayou-side of his room for the fresh air, but of course will not force you to do anything against your complete comfort.

The best thing that he knows to do is what his mother did to him whenever he was sick: Sit in bed with him and tell him Creole folk tales. They always enamored him, and just the fact that he was allowing you to see this personal side of him made you feel better. 

At the end of the day, Alastor would take advantage of the beautiful setting that the dark bayou side of his room provided and conjure up a lovely scene of fireflies, all while softly playing his piano and singing his favorite songs to guide you to sleep (You are the only person he will let hear his singing). While Alastor may seem heartless from afar, you wouldn’t trade this demon for all of the money in the world.

🗝️😈Charlie😈🗝️:

Would definitely notice that you were sick before you did and insisted that you get plenty of bedrest. When you refused, insisting that you were ok, she would monitor you until you finally accepted that you were sick and let her take care of you. She would say, “I’m not saying I told you so, buuuuuut…”

Takes care of you to the point where some tasks of the hotel were neglected, but to be honest, it was a win-win for everyone in the hotel. She was happy that you were being taken care of, and everyone else was happy that they didn’t have to participate in trust exercises. 

She would crack open her book of the story of Hell - it always calms her down during an extermination, so hopefully it could calm you down as you try to sleep. 

If she absolutely had to leave the hotel to do/get something, she would most definitely buy a little keepsake and bring it back for you.

She would use her love for singing to lull you to sleep, singing sweet lullabies that her mother used to sing to her as a child.

You have to constantly remind her to take care of herself as well, as she will literally remain at your bedside, not caring to eat or sleep, until you get better. She often gets so caught up in caring for others that she forgets to care for herself! You tell her that it would genuinely make you feel better to see her taking care of herself as well.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Gets more defensive over you than usual, which honestly scares everyone. Nobody wants to so much as speak to you wrong in fear of Vaggie literally attacking them. Having Vaggie around is the definition of scary dog privileges. 

She’s honestly extremely dramatic when it comes to you getting sick, which may seem ridiculous, but think about it: she was thrown away by her “family” in heaven, and now you’re the only person that she truly has. You confide in her, you allow her to let her guard down. If she lost you, she doesn’t know how she could even exist. So whether you have a cold or something more serious, she will automatically jump to the worst conclusions and get worried as Hell.

As tough as she seems, Vaggie loves to cuddle. She will literally lay in bed with you all day, not caring if she gets sick as well. You’re the only person that she can be vulnerable with, and if you have to be in bed all day, you better bet she’ll be right there next to you. 

Her love language is absolutely telling you about all the things that she would do to defend you. She will go into immense detail about the things that she would do for you, and you will always listen in awe. She has been through so much, and this is the only way that she knows how to express her true love for you. 

The last thing she wants is for somebody to feel abandoned in their struggle like she did when she fell from Heaven, especially you. She will make sure that you know how much you are valued and loved, not just by her, but by everyone at the hotel.

When you’re finally ready to get out of bed and start participating in hotel duties again, she monitors you the whole time to make sure that you’re not over-exerting yourself.

🕷️💖Angel Dust💖🕷️:

Is very upset and on edge - Valentino forces him to work everyday, no matter the circumstances, and not being at the hotel to care for you or at least watch over you makes him feel horrible. 

Basically forces you to sleep as much as you can, even better if it’s in his room so he can see that you’re okay immediately when he gets home.

Encourages you to cuddle with Fat Nuggets - he’s essentially a cute and cuddly heating pad. (He actually gives Fat Nuggets this adorable pep talk about how he needs to take good care of you while “dad” is at work)

He wholeheartedly believes in the power of comedy, so he essentially treats your bedrest as a stand-up comedy show for him to perform in order to make you laugh. He’ll tell stupid jokes, put together horrible dances, or even just hide in places and scare you in hopes that making you laugh will help you forget how bad you feel. 

Loves talking to you after work. You’re essentially the only person that he takes off his hypersexual mask around, and he knows that he can be himself around you, that you would never judge him. So, sometimes he will get home to find you already asleep and get in bed with you, holding you tight, whispering all of the things that he wanted to tell you about today, hoping that at least some of his words wiggle their way into your dreams. 

Loves sappy rom com movies and will 100% force you to watch them with him. He claims it’s because the “good vibes” of the romance will make you feel better, but to be honest, he just wants someone to watch his dumb movies with.

♦️🥃Husk🥃♥️:

Will blame himself for your sickness, claiming that he shouldn’t have let you drink so much over the past couple of days (He literally cannot comprehend the idea that people can be sick NOT from being hungover lol).

When you insist that it’s not his fault, he’ll ease up. He’ll use some of his bartending skills to make some sort of juice mocktail for you and will definitely sneak in some vitamin C to heal you faster.

Everyone - specifically Angel - will wonder why the fuck the bar hasn’t been stocked in days (It’s because Husk has been chilling in bed/taking care of you nonstop).

This is the only time that he will completely surrender to the idea of being one big stuffed animal to cuddle with. I mean, he’s warm, soft, and he purrs! What’s more therapeutic than that?

This is also a great time to get uninterrupted talking time with Husk. He’s a great listener, so you’ve always opened up to him, but it took him a while to open up to you too. He had told you that you were one of the only people that he trusted enough to confide in, but always seemed to air on the side of caution when sharing his personal struggles because it always seemed that someone would just pop up at the bar asking for a drink whenever it happened. This was one of the few times that the two of you could be completely open and vulnerable with each other without the risk of outside judgment. 

Given the fact that he was such a gambler, Husk has a knack for all sorts of card games. If you get too bored, just give him a deck of cards and the possibilities for entertainment are endless. Want him to teach you how to play poker or rummy? Done. Want him to embarrass himself while he tries to relearn some card tricks that he used to flaunt? Done and done.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

The second you told him you were sick, he would waste no time in finding one of his many inventions that could help you in some way. He definitely has some complex medical screening device hidden somewhere that he could use… he just has to remember where he put it. 

If you complain about being sore, he will insist that you snuggle up next to him. Because he’s a cold-blooded reptile, his body is one big ice pack! On the other end, if you feel yourself coming down with some feverish chills, he has you covered! His bedroom ceiling is essentially one huge heat lamp, so feel free to chill under there, too!

Has assigned himself as your personal nurse and will provide anything that your heart desires. If it for some reason cannot be found within the hotel, he will travel to any ring of Hell necessary to make sure that you are well taken care of. This man is DETERMINED.

You can tell that he’s taking this seriously because he actually neglects his “evil duties” for a couple of days. The airship isn’t even mentioned until you heal (unless, of course, you feel that taking a ride on the airship would make you feel better. Then, of course he will set it up for you!).

Despite literally voicing his complete and utter devotion to your every flight of fancy, this man is still as awkward as ever. He will still struggle to ask you if you want to cuddle, quite literally fluttering around the subject until you bring it up for him. 

At the end of the day, though, Sir Pentious is probably the sweetest sinner you could’ve ended up with as your caretaker. He may be awkward, but boy, does he love you!

👹👼Lucifer👼👹:

While you are resting in bed, he will conjure up the most delightful images of anything you request (his favorite, though, is a group of ducklings waddling through a golden lake together 🫶)

Being the King of Hell, he has so many interesting stories to tell you if you’re willing to listen. He will gladly tell you stories as you lay in bed with him, slowly lulling you to sleep. (His daughter clearly got her love of storytelling from him).

He loves that you trust him enough to let him take care of you - he doesn’t often have people around, let alone people that he truly loves. Just your presence in his room truly fills him with so much joy.

He didn’t want to annoy you with his ramblings about his many rubber ducks so he was ecstatic when you asked him to give you a tour of all of them. This man was telling you each and every duck’s name, backstory, etc. and honestly, it was adorable. When he quickly glazed over one of the ducks anxiously, you asked why. He then shyly revealed that it was, in fact, a rubber duck that looked just like you. 

His love language is definitely gift-giving. This rubber duck would lead to him showing the many, MANY gifts he has created for you in his free time. He always has a ton of downtime, so making gifts for people is his favorite hobby. These gifts include, but aren’t limited to: various duck items, binded storybooks, music boxes, paintings, etc. This man is TALENTED, to say the least. He just hopes that looking at these will distract you enough from being sick. 

Also, his room is by far the comfiest to sleep in while you’re sick… the mood lighting that is naturally provided from his glowing light shows is simply unmatched.

[twst-kumi]

Sorry please,my English is not very good ( it's not my mother tongue) it's silly but you can do a headcanon on pregnancy ( from the dorm heads) or an alphabet on either of them!

Don't worry, English is not my mother tongue too. I will consider reader is in a relationship with them and that they are the father. Reader is a girl in the story.

Dorm leader with Pregnant reader

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle would be the most shocked if you were pregnant.

You two were still in NRC. IN SCHOOLS! He knew he should have waited for marriage.

Riddle is worried, and rightfully so. He knows nothing about child care, let alone parenthood. He is scared that he won't be a good father. Or worse. What if he becomes like his mother and repeats the trauma circle?

Reader and Trey will need to be the voice of reason here.

Make sure to assure him that everything is alright.

Riddle will gather EVERYTHING he could get about childbirth and childcare.

He will learn everything from start to end. At this point, he knows more about your pregnancy than you do.

Expect him to be there at every doctor's appointment, even better! HE will make those appointments.

Your doctor would be a bit tired tho...

Riddle will ask him a lot of questions. From your diet, to what is needed for the pregnancy, how to make sure you and the baby will be safe.

Reader will be taken care of like a queen.

You will also have to move to Heartlsabyul. Ramshackle is too rundown and dangerous for you or the baby.

Trey mentioned that Mozart was good for the baby's brain development. Care to try it?

Riddle would spend hours talking and reading to your belly.

Will cry before the first ultrasound you did. It's his child's first picture in a way.

Mood swings with Riddle would be funny. He knows it's because your body changes for the child but it's hard sometimes.

Ace would laugh because this time he is the one who has to walk on eggshells.

If you cry, Riddle will be completely helpless. He would panic trying to make you smile.

The one to take care of your food carving would be Trey. Riddle tried to do it, but some of the things you asked for, were unknown.

I think Riddle would be a little jealous of the other. He would feel a little helpless about the situation. And having to rely on others even though he is the father. He should be the one to take care of you!

This would be where Riddle would see the difference between theoretical and practical knowledge.

Marriage will be expected. He will try to at least get a civil marriage. If you have any religion, he will organize a proper wedding following your beliefs once the baby is born.

Riddle's biggest worry is his mom. He doesn't want her to hurt you or the baby.

Riddle will try to take care of everything for you. He isn't the best at it, but he has the spirit.

BONUS Childbirth :

Poor Riddle would definitely want to be there during the birth.

His poor soul didn't support it.

Riddle would either cry or faint. He is sorry he put you through something so painful and potentially traumatic.

You will have to assure him that you are okay.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona with a pregnant reader could be interesting if he was a Yandere.

Lions kill young cubs (not his) to get the lioness more inclined to bear his cub.

But this isn't a Yandere headcanon. So I will keep this in a drawer.

That doesn't mean he wouldn't try to push Grim a little away. Or bribe convince him to leave you and him alone a little longer.

Leona is the first to know you are pregnant. Way before you do.

Cliché but it's true.

He would not try to tell you directly, so he wouldn't sound too insensitive, but he will insist that you take a pregnancy test

Or even better he will try to convince you to do a blood test. It's more accurate than a stick you pee on.

And surprise surprise, you are pregnant.

Leona can't help but be smug about it. He is the father, and if it wasn't obvious before for some stubborn herbivore or... A particular lizard.

Leona is close to his sister-in-law so he had some experience with pregnancy.

But this time he is the father. And the mother is a magicless human.

Unlike beastwomen, you are more weak. This is what worries him.

The first person Leona asks for advice is his sister. Who is the best to ask about pregnancy if it's not someone who experienced it?

This also means that Falena now knows he will be an uncle.

Leona could hear Cheka rambling happily that he would have a younger cousin to everyone he saw.

If you wanted to keep a low profile during the pregnancy, he is sorry. That would be impossible. Say goodbye to your peaceful days.

You must go with him to meet with your in-laws during the weekend.

Leona is a prince. Even if he is just the second prince, he is still from the royal family. Which means, a lot of regulation, tradition, etc...

Leona's family would happily welcome you and try to make you feel accepted.

During the pregnancy, Leona would make sure to get you everything.

You want chocolate and pickles? Of course! Need a massage? The servants are here for you; if you wish, HE would do it.

While in NRC, expect to stay with him. Leona doesn't want you to strain yourself too much.

He will make sure that Ruggie runs errands for him AND you.

Leona will sleep with a hand on your belly. He will never say it but he loves feeling the baby kick.

Another one who will follow you to your ultrasound.

The royal family has their own doctor. And he is your doctor from now on too. You are his royal spouse after all.

BONUS Childbirth :

It's a known fact, that Leona drinks his respected woman's juice every morning.

Well after childbirth? He drinks it morning and night.

Seeing you endure so much pain just because you love him, made him feel even more in love.

Leona could never do what you did.

You are weak compared to beastwomen, but even more brave. As expected of his future wife.

Leona would cradle the baby carefully next to you. He tried not to show it but you could see the small smile on his lips.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul would be another one shocked. He almost spit his ink.

Floyd and Jade would congratulate and tease him.

It was unexpected but Azul is happy about it.

Don't worry about the future, he saved enough money to care for you and the baby.

For your carving, he will ask the twins for help. Floyd is having a blast with your funny demand.

Azul will accompany you to your doctor's appointment.

He will have done his research before coming with you. And while Riddle would ask the doctor way too many questions.

Azul just takes notes and asks questions only when needed.

He will take you to look for the baby's clothes and maybe even the furniture.

Mood swing with Azul is a nightmare for him and comedy gold for the Leech twins.

No, you are not fat, just full of love.

You are not ugly! You are the prettiest mother who ever existed.

Azul would watch you with bated breath for any outburst.

Please don't mind the contract he asked you to sign. Mariage contract? Don't mind what was written on it.

Bonus Childbirth

Azul would panic the moment your water broke.

He would come in the room, hold your hand as you are pushing the baby out;

And then?... Nothing.

Azul just fainted, he wasn't even able to hold the baby. The tweels will tease him about it.

Kalim Al Asim

LET'S THROW A PARTY!!!

Kalim is way too happy, and you can tell from Jamil's face that he is losing 5 years of his life.

Kalim has been poisoned and kidnapped a lot since childhood, and now he has to protect you too.

Poor Jamil can't take a break. And now you are overworking him.

You will obviously move to their dorm because now you are under careful watch.

Kalim is just happy and is already preparing a room for the baby.

Tell him what you want, and he will give you EVERYTHING.

Your Carving? Don't worry, Jamil can make them for you.

You want a midnight snack? Kalim would try to do it but would fail miserably. He will have to wake up Jamil to prepare your snack and clean up the mess. poor guy

Meeting with the Al Asim family would be great.

Usually, they would do a long background check and be suspicious of you. But if even Jamil trusts you. Welcome to the family.

Another one who has a private doctor.

Mood swings with Kalim would be impossible.

He is such a sweetheart, you can't get angry at him. Instead, he will smother you with love.

You would feel frustrated by the constant monitoring but it's for your safety.

Bonus childbirth

Kalim absolutely wanted to come with you in the room.

Jamil stopped him, so he had to wait with his family.

He would be anxiously pacing until they were allowed in.

He is the first at your side to look at your baby.

Kalim would cry and laugh proudly. He is a father now.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is happy but also worried. He has always wanted to form a family with you.

But just not this soon. He is an actor so he knows how fans can react.

He wants to be present during every step of your pregnancy but can't.

Vil will keep it as private as possible.

He is not ashamed but it's for your safety.

Vil knows how crazy fans can be, I believe he had some stalker, and you can't tell me otherwise.

Vil would be one of the people who wouldn't cave into your carving.

If he deems it as unhealthy, he will refuse to give it to you.

He will be here for you during your mood swings.

About Vil's dad, I don't think he would mind too much. His son is responsible enough for him to trust Vil's decision. He is also excited to be a grandpa.

Will come with you to your doctor's appointment. He isn't there at every appointment but he tries.

Bonus childbirth

Vil is both in awe and worried. Giving birth is both the most beautiful and strong event he could witness.

He would hold your hand, staying by your side every time

Vil would hold the baby with a tender smile. He doesn't say it but you can see he loves the baby already. It's the most beautiful child.

Idia Shroud

Idia would be happy and MORTIFIED. For him, it's a miracle he was able to pull you.

And now, you say you are pregnant???

He fainted.

Idia is happy but it's too much emotion for him.

He is going to be a father... A FATHER! Idia never thought you would be interested by him, let alone share your blood and have a child with him.

He believes he ruined your life and feel guilty for being happy for it. You will not leave him when you are with his child... Right?

Will ask you if you want to keep the child or not. (Please don't say you don't want it, his heart gonna break.)

You will have to reassure him that you are happy and actually want the baby.

Please hug, Idia! He need a lot of PDA.

Idia will work his courage up, to accompany you.

He will be worried about you and the baby. It's to the point he made something to monitor you and the baby. Or just ask Ortho to keep an eye on you.

Any abnormal change would warrant a panic attack in Idia. He is an overthinker.

Mood swings is a nightmare for both of you.

Idia is an anxious guys, so he would cry.

Any carving you have is like a game where he have to be fast.

His family would welcome you with open arms.

They did a background check, surviving 6 Overblot in a row is incredible. Mind if they study you?

Anyway, you are totally welcomed in the Shroud family.

Don't worry about the wedding after the baby's birth. They will take care of it.

Idia's family is wealthy and he is the heir. So don't spare the details for the baby room.

Bonus Childbirth

Idia would go with you in the delivery room.

I can see him cry like he is the one giving birth.

Poor guy tried to focus on you and only you. Holding your hand tightly, kissing your forehead while whispering encouraging word.

But the moment he glanced at what was happening down there?

He is gone! Idia fainted from horror and shock.

How could you support that? It must hurt!

Did you see the size of his head? He is shocked.

Well was, because he fainted.

Malleus Draconia

I'm going to cheat for this one as I'm planning on doing a Yandere headcanon/one shot involving a pregnant reader. (A personal request of a close friend.)

So I will just link it here.

[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

[ultravi0lence14]

Lover Boy

dean winchester x fem!reader

2.5k | fluff

summary: the double life of dean winchester seemed to come out when he would be dangerous and sinister around demons, yet soft and gentle when it came to how he loved you.

dean winchester was a tough man. raised as a soldier from a young age, he grew into one of the strongest men you’ve ever encountered.

even with all of that to factor in, dean was still a complete softie at his core.

his childish love for certain things was definitely a major reason. though how he treated you definitely gave it away. dean was always looking for you in a room, never wanting to be more than two feet away from you. not getting a lot of affection as a child, dean’s love language was most definitely physical touch. the man had to have his hands on you at all times. wether that be around your waist, shoulder, thigh, or even around your middle.

don’t even get started on all the cute little pet names he called you. cheesy stuff like that never made sense to you. the notion of it all had you assuming that you’d laugh in a man’s face if he even tried to utter the word ‘babe’ to your face.

with dean, it was different. the first time he called you sweetheart, you didn’t feel the urge to giggle. actually, you felt a blush dust your cheeks and a shy smile overtake your lips. since then, the older winchester has been dabbling with all different sorts of names. you drew the line when he tried to add ‘sugar mama’ into the mix, but that was just dean.

baby, honey, angel, sunshine, you name it. dean was collecting them all like trading cards, and you seriously weren’t complaining.

on top of it all, dean was very over protective when it came to you. to dean, you were the best thing that ever happened to him. if anything ever happened to you, dean was positive he would never be able to forgive himself. so will all of his will, dean spent hunts focusing on two things — killing the monster and making sure you came out of it unscathed and wound free.

today was no different. sam had caught wind of a vamps nest down in georgia, and the two brothers weren’t against blowing off some steam and decapitating a couple of bloodsuckers.

everything was going as usual. you three scoped out the town, figuring out what the best place would be for the vampires nest. when the location was secured, you and the brothers waited until dusk. the sun was drifting down over the horizon, laying illuminating shadows over the ground as you creeped up towards the vacant barn behind dean.

both sam and dean decided that going in guns blazing would be the best option. catch some vampires by surprise and kill a couple before the real fight happened. you knew how to use a machete, and you’d beheaded a couple of vamps in the past, but dean wasn’t always so keen on you joining. his words exactly were ‘if anything happened to you i wouldn’t know what to do with myself. all i want is for you to be safe, baby.’

you understood where he was coming from, but you also knew you were fully capable killing a couple vamps without any harm. with a long hour of begging and pouting, dean finally let you tag along. his only proposition being you stayed close to him, which wasn’t a problem since you tended to do that anyway.

the three of you made it to the doors of the barn. sam didn’t wait before he swung the door open, striding towards the nearest vampire and smoothly chopping it’s head off. the fight was now in full swing. a total of six vampires had resided in this abandoned barn, leaving five more for you, sam, and dean to deal with.

you felt a tug on the back of your shirt as one of the female vampires tried to push you back. you weren’t stupid, nor incompetent when it came to fighting, so you instantly handled her blow and whirled around with a swift punch to her nose.

dean had taught you everything you needed to know about hand to hand combat. being there to help with your position and allow you to practice your at the time, feeble punches on him. there had been countless occasions where dean got sidetracked as his arms wound up around you from behind. his intentions being to help with your form, but he ended up ravishing on your soft skin instead.

your fight with the female vamp didn’t last long. after a couple of punches and attempts to throw one another onto some hay bales, you found the perfect timing to swing your machete and precisely have her head rolling. the satisfaction of the kill didn’t last long, for a gruff and aggressive hand pushed you hard in the centre of your back, sending you flying into one of the adjacent walls.

a big, burly male vampire had you cornered. he succeeded in knocking the blade out of your hand, sending it scattering across the floor and completely out of your reach. his solid face made it almost impossible for you to land a decent punch, for each time he took them with ease, a bored look on his face like he was unsatisfied with your feeble attempts to fight him off.

in a last minute effort, you mustered all your strength and pushed him as hard as you could. it didn’t work, for he just grabbed the back of your head and smashed your forehead against a wooden support beam. drowsiness was taking over, and you could feel his thick fingers wrap around your neck as consciousness started to slip away from your body.

accepting your demise, you just let him have it, knowing there was no way in hell you could fight him now. though to your luck, like an angel coming down from heaven to save you, dean winchester came into view behind the man’s shoulders. his face was set in a murderous glare, arm reaching for the back of the vamps neck as he forcefully pulled him off of you.

weak from the beating, your limp body fell to the ground. as you supported yourself against the wooden beam, you watched as dean completely ditched his machete and resorted to pummeling the vampire to a bloody pulp. dean didn’t want his death to be quick, he wanted to inflict as much pain on this vile creature as he had on you. with an unfiltered rage, dean completely wailed on the vamps face, leaving no room for him to fight back.

“how does it feel, huh? getting exactly what you gave. think you can hurt my girl like that? you’re lucky i don’t string you up and bleed you dry.” his words slightly frightened you, but you knew dean would never lean towards such gruesome acts of violence. in his rage, dean sometimes completely lost control of what he would say. allowing people to become slightly afraid of what he was capable of.

the feeling of sam’s comforting hands directed your attention away from dean’s brutal assault. the sweet man was making sure you weren’t badly injured. checking if you had a concussion or if the wound on your forehead would need stitches or not. as sam started gingerly touching the already blossoming bruise on your neck, you watched as dean grabbed his blade and crushed it down into the vampires neck. completely detaching it from his body and killing him for good.

like a switch had flipped in his brain, you watched as dean quickly put his machete into his sheath and dart over to you. sam’s voice letting you two know that he was going to grab the impala was completely drowned out as dean’s rugged yet gentle hands grasped your face. he moved it side to side, inspecting to see how badly that vamp had hurt you.

“oh sweetheart,” he mumbled, wincing as he noticed the gash on your forehead. “you’re okay. i’m here baby, i’m right here.” his voice soothed you, yet the aches and pains radiating through your head and still tender neck had you whimpering, sticky tears starting to collect on your cheeks.

leaning into dean’s hand, you let your first sob break free from your lips. “dean.” you mumbled, trying to get your words out through the lump in your throat and choked sobs. “it hurts. it hurts so bad.” the look on dean’s face could’ve broken down the strongest of men. he looked so distraught. almost as though the pain you were experiencing was finding a way to attach itself to his own body.

in a way, it was kind of just like that. dean seeing you in pain brought him pain. he would rather experience any form of hellish torture than watch you suffer.

caressing your cheek one last time, dean moved his arms around the back of your knees and shoulder. he picked you up bridal style, slowly walking his way towards sam and the impala. “i know baby, you are going to be just fine.” he whispered, relishing in the way your head snuggled into his chest. “i’m going to make you feel all better. i swear.”

the ride back to the motel was filled with sam’s frantic worrying and dean’s hushed voice assuring you on your recovery. he opted to sit in the backseat with you, resting your head on his lap while softly stroking your hair, smoothing it down away from the cut on your forehead.

as sam rolled in front of the motel, you heard as he told dean he would run to the nearest store and get some food, knowing you’d be hungry after everything that just happened. from the impala to the motel room bed, everything was a blur. the only thing you slightly remember is dean carrying you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, reassuring you that everything would be fine.

placing you gently onto the bed, you watched as dean got up to go grab the first aid kit. his frame was becoming a little blurry as you felt yourself slipping into sleeps comforting clutches. dean’s hands softly shaking you and propping you to sit upright on the bed had your eyes reopening. his eyes held a gentle glint, yet somewhere in the mix, a cloud of panic and worry moved over it.

“cmon honey, stay awake for me.” his voice caressed your ears with a soft, gentle kiss that made you smile. yet at the same time, you could hear the underlying tones of panic and worry. dean was scared for you, and dean being genuinely scared was not something a lot of people saw.

you just smiled at him, moving your one hand so it was delicately placed on his knee. “i’m fine, dean. i’m right here, alive and breathing. nothing to worry about.” you could tell that your words eased him a little, but as his fingers lightly grazed your bruised neck, the worry rolled back onto him like a tidal wave. “fuck your neck. i let this happen to you, i am so so sorry-“

the feeling of your pointer finger coming over his lips stopped dean mid sentence, his stunned face in your direct eyesight as you gave him the most intense serious face you could muster. “i don’t want to be hearing any of that. you did your best, dean. you were busy fighting the others, and i had him until he turned my head into a whack-a-mole mallet.” your words had a slight laugh bubbling in dean’s lips, making your smile brighten. “none of this is your fault. blame the vamp. who thanks to you, is now as dead as ever.”

furrowing his brows and crinkling his eyes, dean mumbled to himself something he thought you didn’t hear. but you did. you always did when it came to dean. “he’s lucky that’s all i did.” dean’s blatant protective behaviour towards you made you feel comforted. yes you could take care of yourself, but it was nice to have that extra watchful eye every once and a while.

a quiet hum settled over the room as dean tended to the cut on your forehead. his hand lightly held your face, making sure you stood still. he also wanted an excuse to touch you, for your face was probably the most beautiful thing dean winchester had ever laid his eyes on.

“there we go baby, all done”. dean said as he put away the first aid kit. when the eldest winchester turned back to face you, your eyes watched as he gingerly grabbed your face. he didn’t want to hurt you, and your heart couldn’t feel more full because of it. with both hands clasping your face, he placed his lips on your temple, leaving a delicate kiss over the bandaged scrape.

he then moved to your eyelids, kissing each one as he envisioned your beautiful coloured eyes looking back at him. long lashes decorating them as you stared up into his own eyes. next he kissed both of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, and finally, dean left a soft, feather like kiss upon your lips.

dean kissed you as if you were made of glass. he was so worried of hurting you, making sure that whatever he did didn’t push on your wounds at all.

“i love you so much.” he whispered, keeping his face close to yours. so much so that your lips were still basically touching. “when i saw him hurting you, i felt something in me shatter. i don’t know what i’d do without you, sweetheart.” his words struck right into your heart, giving you such a feel of warmth that it spread throughout your whole body.

bringing your lips softly to dean’s cheek, you too left a feather light kiss on his cheek bone. voice vibrating off the surface as you couldn’t find yourself to move away. “i love you too dean. so much more than you could ever imagine.”

both you and dean’s declarations of love brought forth something into your relationship. a sense of love, hope, and security. you knew that dean would always be there to protect you, and dean knew that you would always be there to bring him down. rationalize his brain with comforting words when he needed them most.

the love you two shared was pure. something driven from fresh snow directly fallen from the sky. as the two of you laid down on the bed, you wondered how it was that you got so lucky with a man like dean. a man who loved so deeply and so ardently that it spilled out of his pores.

dean winchester was the man you were sure you would spend the rest of your life with. and as he molded your body with his, hand on the back of your head and making sure you two were as close as possible, you realized that there was nothing to worry about.

for dean would always be there for you, and always love you like it was his way of breathing.

[yawnderu]

hi, i've only discovered your writing recently but i can't even explain how much i love it 😭 it's like that one anon who i think said that it feels very real, like you're getting 4k ultra hd 8d view of the scene lol 🩷

i really like your bimbo reader posts but i also sort of enjoy seeing them from this point of view that's like.... "this is not his gfs """"constant"""" style but he just lets her be in this kind of persona sometimes because it's relaxing to let him do all the work and thinking for her from time to time".

i hope this makes sense 😭 thank you for writing something that's this cute and wholesome i just love it

Thank you so much sweetheart, this is really lovely!! 😭😭😭<3

Yeah!! I totally get where you're coming from!! She's not exactly dumb, it's actually quite the opposite. I'd like to hc her as a girl who managed to get into a very good university and is studying astrophysics simply because she liked watching stars as a child. She's not dumb— just a girl who grew up extremely sheltered and hasn't seen the world through the eyes of someone who has had a difficult life, like Simon.

There's certain naivety that while it can be dangerous, she's been learning more and more about with Simon's help about stranger danger and trusting her instinct, but the girl is always surrounded by people who enjoy seeing her thrive and always teach her the things that her parents didn't.

I'd say in general she has a very good life, and now paired with Simon, someone whose entire soul wants to see her thrive?? She gets to turn off her brain and simply let him take control— he sometimes picks her clothes for her, dressing her up to the best of his capacity even when he's not a fashion guy.

This man has studied all her Instagram pictures because she's mesmerizing and he loves her that much, yet it also gives him the chance to more or less know what combinations she likes to wear. He still remembers the time she looked at him like he grew a second head for trying to make her wear dots and lines— but he never made that same mistake again.

They work surprisingly well together despite basically being on complete opposite sides of a spectrum, and at the end of the day, they work this well because they're both equally in love with the other.

Simon is level-headed and that gives her the chance to simply be herself without worrying about anything, he gives her a sense of security that she's never gotten with anyone else, while bimbo!reader gives Simon the love and affection he never even dared to think about. The main thing is that she looks and treats him like he's worth something how good of a soldier he is. Hell, she doesn't even know he's a soldier, she simply found the most brooding and intimidating guy and fell in love with him before she even knew it.

They both spoil each other a lot. Simon buys her things, treats her with patience and love, and generally treats her like the princess that she is, while she takes care of Simon like no other. She does face masks with him, gives him massages, does his manicure (trimming and cleaning his nails, putting lotion on his calloused hands), and is overall as patient as they come.

They're a pretty wholesome pair and quite honestly I enjoy writing about them a lot, the love they have for each other is fully pure and it makes me happy. :')

Sorry for going off here HJBEFJBHKFEHBKJEFHBJK I wrote too much but God, I love this pair SO fucking much

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄… | xiao, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader

⤷ art by @/Deltanpopo on twitter ! ❀

[ A coy thing, you are, daring to lie to them about your wellbeing. ]

— "I'm alright."

A scoff leaves XIAO's lips at your swift words, his mouth curling into a sneer, one absent of a smirk. His arms crossed over his chest, dark shadows cast over his eyes. "Come again?"

His glare was intense - dangerous, its malice not directed towards you, but instead to whatever had made you like... this. You could shield your form from his piercing gaze all you wanted. It'd do nothing to deter him. The knowledge he held of your character, the way your voice gave the slightest tremor, and the way your eyes slipped from his own... he let out a noise of annoyance.

"As I said, Xiao. I'm fine."

You were't a good liar. At least, from his knowing view. Unacceptable. His lashes fluttered as his eyes narrowed. Was he not reliable enough for the truth? Why was it that you'd refuse his assistance while you were clearly suffering?

"No." His voice was decisive, cold, but not in the manner of harsh, unforgiving ice, but the morning frost that bloomed on the dewy stalks of riverside reeds. "You aren't."

He felt your gaze pause at his lips, yet did not rise to meet his own. Your own mouth quivered, just the slightest, and you downcast eyes that glistened flicked their attention to the ground. "Xiao, I..."

You voice trails off. There's no need to say more. For you stood, enveloped in the adeptus' rare embrace, his pale skin cool, yet sparking an unquenchable warmth within your chest.

"If you aren't okay, that's okay. I'll just have to hold you in my arms, until you are." ₊˚ෆ

— "I'm alright."

A laugh escapes CHILDE's parted lips, a rather empty sound that resounded in your silence. It continues for a couple brief moments. "Ah, you're kidding, right?" He breaks into a smile that fades at the lack of your response. "Right?"

"Why would I be kidding?" You sighed, trying to sound as exasperated as possible. "I'm serious, Childe. I said I was fine." His gaze bore into you, to the point where you could feel your body smolder under his eyes. You shouldn't look at him now. Pursing your lips, you strengthened your resolve, but a moment of weakness upon hearing his shallow laughter was all it took to glance upwards. To meet his gaze.

A grave mistake, you had just unwittingly committed.

Before you could turn your head away, Childe's hand's caught you, one of them grabbing onto your chin and forcing your head to stay in place. "Say," his voice was low, quiet. A telltale sign of the anger that simmered underneath. "When did you get the notion that you'd be allowed to lie to me, and then get away with it scot-free, huh?"

The moment he had met your fleeting gaze, eyes locked onto yours, your verdict had been decided. Guilty. "Childe, it wasn't that I..."

"Oh, is it something you can't tell me, then?" His voice was softer now, but not in a threatening way, eyes melting with concern. Yes as much as he'd love to get at whatever - or whoever had made you so upset, he had a higher task of importance as of now. And that was to comfort the person before him, tentative under his touch. He slowly released his hold on your chin, instead giving your hair a ruffle that caused your locks to fly in disarray. "If so, then I won't push you anymore."

"I've... I've just had a really long day and-"

Your words lost their sound as instead, warmth replaced the quiet. Childe held you in his arms, delicately, like you were made of porcelain, and the slightest touch would shatter you. For someone as brash as him, to now stay silent, letting you let out all the world's concerns in his embrace...

"I won't say anything, alright? Just let it all out, and I'll listen." ₊˚ෆ

— "I'm alright."

At first, SCARAMOUCHE almost looks offended at your words. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes are drawn into a scowl. "What, care to repeat that? It's funny how you think you're fooling anyone."

It takes a moment to find your voice again, with how intense his eyes stare into you - indigo, flashing with electro power. Mesmerizing, dangerous, lethal if you drew too close. It didn't matter you supposed, you had already been in his reach for far longer than you cared to admit, and you had yet to be burnt away. "...I'm alright, nothing happened."

This time, your answer drew a startling laugh that bubbled from deep within him, a carnal yet almost melodious sound that flowed like water and blazed like flames. "Ah, that's funny. You've been hanging around the other Fatui, haven't you?" His gaze narrowed in distaste. "Disgusting, all of them. And from the likes of it, you've been picking up some nasty habits as well. Speaking nothing but the truth to me should be a given, yet you're saying such things without the slightest guilty conscience... I couldn't help but laugh!"

Guilty conscience my ass. Of course it took something out of you to lie to your.. lover. Yes, despite it all, Scaramouche was the one you were joined hands with - even in the male didn't act like it. Or perhaps he did, in a world of his own masked away in a guise behind a guise. His spark just drew you closer.

"Scara, you wouldn't understand...!" Don't get aggravated, keep your voice composed, steady. "It's... it's something personal, alright? I just.. I just don't want to talk about it right now. Give me time, please."

Please? His maniacal expression dimmed as he paused, just a brief moment. He hadn't hurt you, had he? No, you knew him well, well enough to know that that was just the person he was, didn't you? "...So it was like that?" He tried to hide his apologetic expression with a hand over the lower half of his face, but his eyes glistened regardless.

"Ah, just forget about it. If you're hurting, then... Come here, all right? I'll humor you, just for tonight." ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) okay okay so. i. im gonna try and post a fic every day this week. spoiler alert: its fucking exam week BUTBUT BUT im so close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be so silly if we could hit it before new years!! that's why im gonna be listening to burnout playlists while typing away like my life depends on it.// wish me luck on my exams ahah. theyre tommorrow.

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[after-witch]

Dreaming Seamless Dreams [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Title: Dreaming Seamless Dreams [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Synopsis: Follow-up to And The Danger Danger Drawing Near Them. what happens when Shigaraki Tomura decides he gets to keep you?

Word count: 3000ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, non-graphic noncon, noncon groping, depression, loss of appetite

When it’s quiet–which is not always, depending on who decides to stay awake and how soundproof the current hideout is–you think too much.

Like right now. It’s too quiet, and your thoughts are starting to hop around. Jumping from thought to thought. Thoughts about the rose-tinted past, the uncertain future–though the future was perhaps not any less uncertain than your present. 

It becomes too much, too easily. Tears inevitably pool in your eyes. Your throat gets tight, your stomach hurts. You curl up and curl up until you can’t possibly twist inward anymore than you already are, leaving you with one pitiful lament: 

Why do you have to think so damned much? 

Maybe it’s because Shigaraki isn’t here at the moment. He’s talking to the League, you think. It must be at the other end of the building, because you don’t hear a peep from anyone. No arguments, no shouts, no excited agreements on what hero they were going to try to kill next. 

Just you and your thoughts and the dim buzz of the world at night. Insects, somewhere outside. The occasional groan of a night wind. The sound of the world itself, fuzzy, buzzy in the background. 

And when you’re actually alone in bed like this, arm curled up against the pillows propped under your head, tucked into a blanket, you can pretend. Pretend that it’s your bed, in your room, and with the quiet and lack of your captor here, well–

It’s almost like it was before.

The thought hits your gut hard. Tears instinctively reach your eyes, and you’re glad Shigaraki isn’t here to wipe them away. You do it yourself, like you would have done before all this. You didn’t appreciate your life enough, you’ve since realized. 

A quiet life where all you did was work your job and come home and occasionally go out with friends for little things. Coffee dates, heading to the bookstore, shopping for clothes. Ooing-and-ahhing over the little changes of life dropped into every conversation. 

A quiet life where you were free to do what you wanted, when you wanted. Where you weren’t a prisoner (not that he’d call you that, no matter how many times you said it earlier on) bound to the whims of someone who claimed to love you, even though his love was more want than love.

A quiet life where you didn’t hear people talking about destroying the world through the wall. 

The thought gets choked out when your breath hitches. It hurts too much to think about, the loss of your old life. 

And anyway–

The door creaks open and Shigaraki pauses in it. Like a monster in the closet doorway, hovering, waiting for just the right moment to strike.  

Your eyes squeeze shut like a child, willing the image of genuine sleep to project over you like some sort of hazy fairy tale. Willing yourself, too, not to take a peek and look at him. If you don’t see the monster, it doesn’t see you. Or so you used to think, as a child. When naivety was normal, and not wish-fulfillment. 

Maybe tonight, he’ll go to bed without demanding something from you. Maybe you can pretend to be home, in your own bed, and ignore the hum of his wants. 

The weight of his gaze covers you like an extra blanket before he mumbles, “I know you’re awake.”

Ah. It’s pointless to keep pretending. So you shift yourself up in the bed and let the blanket drop from your chest, exposing the used t-shirt he gave you to sleep in. One of his, of course. You still don’t look at him, not directly. You settle for staring at his legs. He’s wearing shoes.

“Where were you?” The question comes out softer than you meant it. If you’re too soft, he thinks you’re being sweet on him. The reality is that you’re just too damn tired to argue sometimes. Maybe he knows that, actually; maybe he likes it better that way.

You can hear the damned smirk on his mouth when he finally speaks. 

“Did you miss me?” 

That damned smirk fades, you know this through sheer muscle memory, when your unspoken no hangs in the air between you.

He’ll be annoyed, that you weren’t more receptive to him. That can be bad. It can be good, though, on occasion. When he’s too annoyed, he sometimes decides to huff and puff and leave you alone.

But not always. It can make him angry; make him grab your arm and yank you around, pull you close and remind you of his quirk. Death under his fingers, rot and dust, so stop acting like such a damned brat all the time. 

In the middle, though, there is a strange sort of ambivalence in him when you don’t do what he wants. It’s worse, in some ways, when he acts like this. Like nothing you say has any effect. You’re nothing, weak, a buzzing, useless thing that might as well be quiet for all the good protest does you.

It reminds you just how little say you have in everything.

Because sometimes–like tonight, you realize, in just a few moments–it doesn’t seem to matter much to him at all. Because in the stretch of a few moments, he’s on the bed, tugging off his shoes and tossing them to the floor with a loud clunk. 

Because he doesn’t just remove his shoes–his trousers and shirt goes with it, leaving him in his boxer shorts and worn-out socks and nothing else. 

“I don’t–” you begin, when he begins to crawl his way up the mattress, towards you, towards the blanket you feebly bring up against your t-shirt clad chest. The words get stuck in your throat as he grips the blanket, a finger on each hand carefully tucked to the side, and yanks it down.

You don’t miss the warmth so much as you miss the ghost of protection it gave you. 

“Wait,” you try again, as his body takes the place of the blanket. Just as warm, but far more intrusive, caging you in with nowhere to go. His hair hangs down against his cheeks as he takes 

you in, and even in the dimness of the room–the moon filtering in through tattered curtains letting you see enough–his intentions are apparent. 

Before you can protest further, his hands are on you. He unceremoniously gropes your chest and you let out an awkward sound that is far too much like a pathetic bleat as his fingers grope and squeeze; first your chest, then down, down, past your stomach and lower. Tickling and itching and unwanted.

“Stop.” The word finally comes out, peeled off like an old bandage. “I don’t–I don’t want you to–not right now. Not tonight.” You can’t fend him off forever. You know that. But when he’s good–and this is a stretch of the word, you know–he does listen to you. 

He’s not listening now.

Because he doesn’t stop. Instead he leans forward, and presses a hot kiss against your mouth. There’s too much warmth, from his breath, his tongue, his body against yours. 

“Not tonight,” he tells you, batting aside your protests like a gnat. Another kiss against your mouth, and you fight the urge to press it shut. “I want you,” he continues, voice lower, darker. His fingers flutter against the edge of the shirt and lift it up, pushing it against your collar bones, exposing you fully.

His breath comes in slow and he leans back just a little, taking you in. What must be your flushed expression, you think. Helpless and prone under him, bound to his whims.

Bound to listen to his thoughts, too, when they come low and sickly sweet. 

“You’re so pretty, you know?” 

So you’ve said, you think, bitterly, as his hands go to pull down the waistband of his trousers.

“Shigaraki–”

“Tomura,” he corrects. There’s a force behind his voice that wasn’t there before, and you feel yourself shrink inside. 

“Tomura,” you force out, even though the name tastes dry on your tongue. But maybe if you act sweeter, he’ll listen. Maybe so. “Please. I don’t want to.”

Maybe he considers it. Maybe not. Regardless, he leans in again, this time pressing his kisses against your neck. Your chin jerks up slowly at the sensation. It’s not the first time, not the last time either, that he gives you hickies. 

“Well, I do want to,” he murmurs, the words melting into your skin with his breath. He must feel you still underneath him, the way you stiffen, the way your breath comes in tighter. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it feels good. I promise.” His teeth drag against your skin and you feel his fingers fumble against your underwear.

You will hate yourself in the morning for the relief you find in his promise. 

–

It gets harder to live like this. Harder to do anything other than sleep and cry and regret. Some days, you don’t get out of bed at all. You don’t eat, you can’t be bothered to ask for a shower or even a toothbrush. Thoughts of treats–books you want to read, a game you’d like to play–get pushed to the back of your brain with anything else that no longer matters much. 

Why bother, when the world is coming out so wrong? 

It is Tomura who tries to drag some life out of you. Tomura who makes you shower, who watches you eat, who tells you to get up and walk around the room. Who sits you down in front of a video game and shoves the player two controller into your hands and says, curtly, “Don’t make me die on this level or you’ll regret it.”

One day you even tell him that it’s hypocritical, because he doesn’t take great care of himself. How often does he subsist on scraps of junk? How often does he sleep too little, or not at all? It’s bullshit, to expect you to do all of that when he can’t be bothered.

At this, his expression shifts and you almost start to feel sick with worry, but then, it becomes clear. He looks–happy. Not happy like he is when you submit underneath him, a greasy sort of joy that makes your stomach hurt.

But almost–light. Almost bright. Almost a sort of happiness that peels away a layer on him and shows you something else underneath. 

“You’re worried about me, huh?”

It’s a slap in the face. It’s also, sort of, maybe, a little bit true. 

“I’m not,” is all you can say, but he only smiles and shakes his head. 

“It’s cute,” he says, before pointing at your half-finished meal. Some yogurt with a vague fruity flavor, a piece of bread, some slices of beef that was too overdone. “Now eat the rest. You need protein.” 

It’s ridiculous, the way he hovers over your meals sometimes. Usually just on the days where you don’t want to get out of bed or do anything but stare at the wall and contemplate how life led you here. 

You stab at the yogurt with your spoon and have half a mind to throw it at him. Only half, though, so you have to be satisfied with your yogurt-stabbing. Petty thought it is. 

“Don’t test me,” he says, that edge of warning still there–always there, you think. Always ready to be pulled out of his pockets like a bare hand, all 5 fingers at the ready. “Just because you’re cute doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want.”

He’s right on that mark, at least. What you want doesn’t matter anymore. 

What hurts the most is the question that immediately comes afterward, like an unwanted fly in the house: 

Did it ever matter? 

–

“It hurts.” Your voice rings hollow, even to your own ears, despite the earnest wish to put some truly nasty petulance behind it. But true petulance, the kind that made your gut warm and brain smarmy, required an energy you no longer had; not here, in these cramped spaces, this isolating life. 

(Isolating, you think, but not isolated. Not with the leader of the League of Villains clinging to your every breath. Not with the constant chatter and clatter of the League, sometimes far away, sometimes right on the other side of the wall.)

Tomura Shigaraki’s hands still, and the comb gripped in not-quite-all of his fingers goes still against your scalp. For a moment, you think he’ll huff out a sigh, and threaten to punish you. Tie you to the headboard or the radiator and leave you there to think about things; 

“It wouldn’t hurt,” he says, continuing to tug with the comb, “if you would stop squirming.” A nearly fruitless effort on his part: while you’d relished the initial gifts of self-care you were given once you “calmed down enough,” you eventually realized there was no point to it. 

Why bathe, why keep your hair nice, why do anything at all but lie down in whatever bed you were given at the latest League hideout and contemplate the utter shithole of your existence?

Easier to rot in bed, to cry yourself to sleep, to squeeze your eyes shut and try to block out his arms around you, his breath on your neck. His words in your ears; how much he loves you, he wants you, you’re his-his-his.

Nothing to be gained, from a life like that. No, that’s not quite right, is it? You do have one thing–and it’s a modest consideration, in your isolated, depressing world. But even you can’t deny the satisfaction of bothering him.

It’s the one thing you still have any control over, after all. 

“I wouldn’t be squirming,” you shoot back, voice tight and tart, “if you weren’t combing my hair.” 

There is something satisfying in the brief stillness that follows–the quiet shock when your barbs have just enough audacity to make him shut up–before the air crackles with a familiar heavy irritation. 

You know what’s coming even before he does it.

“You–” He bites down on the word, foregoing the comb to scratch at his own neck. When you crane your own neck to see, there they are: the scratches, which might turn into deeper gouges depending on how his mood shifts. Enough to bleed, sometimes, depending on how hard he digs. 

It’s enough to make your breath hitch. Uncomfortable memories come flooding in. The days when you were unruly. When you spit in his face. When you told him you hated him, you hoped All Might would kill him, that you’d never feel anything but spite and hate and–it was like you were back in your house. 

Back in the closet with fear making your stomach clench so hard you thought you were going to puke. Back when he destroyed your door and your life in one fell swoop. Back when you heard those damned words–”You’re pretty”--and the world went upside down.

You’d felt nothing but fear that night, being dragged away from your life among strangers–the girl kept tittering and someone made an ugly remark about what he wanted with you and all it had taken was a stern look from Shigaraki and everyone went silent. Except for you, sniffling, crying, begging for this not to happen.

But it did happen, and he took you, and he could be mean but not always. You could tell, when he was going to be mean. There were signs. His voice got tighter and tougher, he snapped more easily. And he scratched, usually. 

Like now, his fingers digging into the skin, with–

Blood. Suddenly there is the familiar taste of it, all warm iron leaking onto your tongue. In your fear and flinching, you must have bit down on your cheek without realizing it and Shigaraki must have realized. 

Must have seen the way you flinched and shrunk into yourself at the sight of him getting too annoyed. Bordering on angry. Bordering on being the Shigaraki on the news who kidnapped you that night, not the one clings to you in bed, who presses kisses to your cheek with scratchy lips, who offers to let you play his video games if you eat your whole lunch this time. 

He likes it better, you think, when you see him like that. 

Because now he’s cursing, crouching, kneeling in front of you with thumbs wiping away the hot messy tears.

“Shh,” he croons. It’s a familiar sensation, too, this feeling of his thumbs rubbing down your cheeks. He does this on the days you don’t get out of bed, sometimes. When the tears simply fall, leaking onto the pillowcase, and you can’t tell him exactly why you started–other than the basic truth. That you want to go home. That you don’t want to be here. 

He keeps it up, this ritual, until you stop sniffling; until your body comes down from the mountain high of anxiety and lets you sail down to something a bit more like a gentle calm.

He waits until you look at him again, eyes all puffy, to speak. His voice is softer now. Less irritation, and more instruction. Like you’re some beloved pet who needs to be talked to before they go off to the veterinarian for their shots.

“If I don’t take care of your hair,” he says, and a thumb reaches over to tuck a piece behind your ear, “you’ll get knots.” He picks up the comb again, and this time you feel too worn out to fight. “You could get infections on your scalp.” To this, you murmur, something noncommittal. 

A bit of a smile in his voice–and on his face–now that you’re quiet, letting him do it, even when he hits a knot and it tugs your head sideways. When you sniffle, he coos, and you vow not to sniffle, whimper or anything remotely pathetic for the rest of the night. 

If you can manage it, with what he says next. 

“After this,” he says, and the smile takes on an edge you don’t like, low and warm, “we’ll see about getting you a bath.”

[narxcisse]

★ — Brother figure Jason Todd headcanons

Brother figure!Jason Todd x Child!Reader

CW: mention of bad parents(?, fluff, platonic relationship

English isn't my native language

Jason had been out on patrol on a particularly cold night in Crime Alley, his former home and one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Gotham. That night, the alleys seemed darker and more desolate than usual, but not enough for Jason to let his guard down. He was chasing a small group of drug dealers when he heard a sound distinct from the usual echoing gunshots and screams: a soft, almost muffled cry coming from a dumpster.

Following the sound, he found a kid, no older than 12, wrapped in rags and shivering from the cold. You were dirty, barefoot, and your eyes reflected the kind of fear Jason recognized all too well: the fear of someone who’s seen too much for their age.

Jason, who was normally gruff and serious, couldn’t help but soften at the sight of you. He pulled off his leather jacket and placed it over your shoulders, muttering a soft, “Come on, I can’t leave you here.” And though you didn’t trust him at first, the warmth of his jacket and his firm yet gentle tone convinced you to follow him.

Upon investigation, Jason discovered that you had been abandoned by your parents amidst the chaos of Gotham. Maybe they were addicts, or maybe they simply left you behind because they couldn’t care for you. Whatever the reason, Jason felt a silent rage. He knew what it was like to be a child forgotten by the system, and he vowed that no matter what, he wouldn’t let that happen to you.

Jason quickly became the overprotective, ride-or-die older brother. Anyone who messed with you? They were on his radar. He didn’t care if they were kids, teachers, or hardened criminals.

He gave you a nickname almost immediately. Something endearing but teasing, like “Squirt,” “Kiddo,” or “Runt.” Hearing him use it always made you feel safe.

Jason isn’t a fan of strict rules, so he doesn’t parent you like Bruce might. Instead, he gives advice like, “Don’t do anything too stupid” or “Call me if you need backup.”

He’s surprisingly soft-spoken when it comes to teaching you things. Whether it’s self-defense, cooking, or just how to punch someone correctly, he’s patient, making sure you get it right without frustration.

He’s not great at emotional vulnerability, but Jason has his moments. You’ll catch him giving you these long, thoughtful looks before ruffling your hair and muttering, “Proud of you, kid.”

Jason lets you decorate your shared space however you want. He thinks you’ll pick something tacky or childish, but seeing your effort makes him melt inside.

He cooks for you, even if it’s just scrambled eggs or spaghetti. “Don’t get used to this, I’m not a gourmet chef,” he says, even though he secretly loves taking care of you.

You have regular “family nights” where you binge movies, eat junk food, and throw popcorn at each other during arguments about which pirated movie is the best.

He introduces you to the classics he loves: literature like The Count of Monte Cristo, and music like Springsteen and Bowie. He’s thrilled when you pick up some of his tastes.

Whenever you feel insecure or inadequate, Jason is the first to shut that down. “You’re tougher than you think, Squirt. If anyone says otherwise, they can deal with me.”

Jason is constantly worried about your safety. If you so much as scrape your knee, he’s immediately there with disinfectant and a stern lecture about being careful.

If someone bullies you, he doesn’t hesitate to have a “talk” with them. You’ll never know what he said, but the bullies steer clear of you after that.

He teaches you how to fight, not just to defend yourself but to give you confidence. “A good jab to the nose, and they’ll think twice,” he says with a grin.

When he’s out as Red Hood, he checks in constantly. He’s the kind of older brother who texts, “You good?” every hour if he can’t be home.

If you ever get caught up in danger because of him, the guilt eats at him. He won’t rest until you’re safe, and he swears to never let it happen again.

Jason has a big soft spot for seeing you happy. If he notices you eyeing a toy, a book, or even a weird trinket, he’ll find a way to get it for you, no matter what.

When you have nightmares, he lets you crash in his room, pretending not to notice when you clutch his sleeve. “Go back to sleep, kid,” he says gruffly, but he’ll stay awake to make sure you feel safe.

He’s not great at outright compliments, but he’ll slip them into conversations. “Yeah, they’re smart like that. Must run in the family,” he’ll say with a smirk.

Sometimes, he leaves little notes for you if he’s out late, like: “Don’t stay up too late, Squirt. And don’t forget to eat something other than chips.”

Despite his tough exterior, Jason will never miss a chance to remind you that you matter to him. “You’re stuck with me, kid. Get used to it.”

Jason isn’t perfect—he has his temper, his flaws, and his regrets—but when it comes to you, he’ll do everything in his power to be the brother you deserve. To him, you’re not just someone he saved; you’re family.

Jason leaned against his motorcycle, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Alright, kid. Time to learn how to ride,” he said, tossing you a helmet. It was comically large on your head, wobbling slightly as you adjusted the straps.

“Wait, what?” you blurted, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “But what if some authority sees us?”

Jason snorted, his grin widening. “But there's no one who's an authority here, right? Besides, I’m a fantastic teacher.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve literally crashed this thing before.”

“Details,” Jason said, brushing off your concern with a wave. “Now hop on. You’ve got to start somewhere, and who better to teach you than me?”

You hesitated, glancing at the sleek black motorcycle. It looked huge, intimidating even, but there was something about the way Jason spoke—so confident and reckless—that made you want to trust him. With a deep breath, you climbed on, settling in front of him on the seat.

“Alright,” he said, swinging his leg over to sit behind you. He reached around to grab your hands, placing them on the handlebars. “This is your throttle,” he explained, twisting the grip. “And this is your brake. Easy stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” you said nervously, your palms already clammy. “Easy for you.”

Jason chuckled, his voice warm and teasing. “Relax, Squirt. I’m right here. You’re not gonna crash.”

“You’re not even wearing a helmet!”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” he replied breezily.

With his hands guiding yours, he showed you how to start the engine. The motorcycle roared to life, vibrating beneath you. Your heart leapt into your throat, but Jason’s steady grip on your shoulders kept you grounded.

“Okay, now just twist the throttle—gently,” Jason instructed.

You did as he said, and the bike lurched forward a few feet. You yelped, clutching the handlebars tighter.

“See? You’re a natural!” Jason said, laughing. “Now let’s pick up the pace.”

“Are you insane?”

“Probably. Now go!”

With Jason egging you on, you twisted the throttle again, this time a little harder. The motorcycle surged forward, and you felt the wind whip against your face. Jason’s laughter rang in your ears as he kept a firm hold on your sides, steering from behind when necessary.

“You’re doing great!” he shouted over the noise.

“I’m going to die!” you yelled back, though there was a spark of exhilaration in your voice.

Jason guided you around an empty parking lot, letting you get a feel for the bike. With every loop, you grew a little more confident, and Jason’s pride was practically palpable.

“Alright, now let’s try stopping,” he said.

You hit the brake too hard, and the bike skidded to a halt, nearly throwing both of you off. Jason steadied it with his feet, laughing as he helped you regain your balance.

“Not bad,” he said, ruffling your hair. “Could use some finesse, though.”

You glared at him, your heart still racing. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Yeah, well, you survived, didn’t you?” Jason teased. He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Bet you’re glad I’m your big brother now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the rush of excitement coursing through you. “Next time, you’re wearing a helmet.”

Jason grinned, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Deal. But don't tell anyone about this."

“Deal,” you said, smirking.

And just like that, Jason proved, once again, that he was the most irresponsible yet strangely endearing brother you could ask for.