#also gets him a dog of his own the moment the kid expresses the wish

[tired-biscuit]

I don’t know if you’re still in a fluffy moods butttttt kibas reaction to y/n naming their soon to be born son after him (kiba jr!!) there’s absolutely no way he’d be able to hide his emotions. He’d feel all the feels. He may even shed a tear or two 🥹

omg yes, him trying to blink away the tears, like looking up towards the ceiling and sniffling a little cos he's trying so hard not to show what a softie he is when it comes to family. his heart is so much bigger than he tends to show and he just gets so emotional over things concerning his wife and kids :(

imagine as the years go by and the kid grows a bit older, you call out their name and they both do the same little head tilt as they look at you hdhshdhshsgs IT'D BE SO CUTE!!

also, imo if he had a son, the lil' guy would be his perfect copy by the time he grows older. right down to the way he walks and smiles, the temper and all sorts of little mannerisms would be stolen like that, so the name wouldn't be the only thing they'd have in common. he'd look up to his dad so much!!

i also think the kid would even be really happy when his friends would start using the same nickname that his dad has. like his best friend starts calling him 'ki 2.0' or something like that at some point, and it's just pure joy and kiba notices it and is over the moon too hahahshhags <3

[ya-zz]

hiya! :-)

can i request a rammattra, zenyatta, or genji (whoever you think fits best) x gn reader who's a cyborg with a gothic little balljoint porcelain doll appearence? maybe a little edward scissorhands-y in their mannerisms and personality (doesn't really talk much, curious and full of wonder about the most mundane things, a bit socially tone deaf, and usually seen as a creepy weirdo despite in reality being more akin to a batty puppy dog overall)?

also optional bonus heavy angst idea you don't have to include: reader admitting that they didn't actually want to be a cyborg when they technically died naturally of a chronic illness, but their ex brought them back from the brink of death against their expressed wishes and now reader has episodes where they have to grapple with the fact they're still alive and how different their body is now.

totally alright if this is too much and no worries if you don't wanna write it! i hope you have a swell day! :-D

Hooo boy, this one took a lil longer to get to, work be testing me at the moment, but anyway- I broke it up into small pieces for each character, hope that's okay!

Everything is under the cut and they all have varying word counts. The first section is the same for each, it's bold and italic.

Ramattra

Your appearance was something neither three had ever seen before. They stared at you with a mix of emotions. Mainly awe and curiosity. Omnics had their defaulted looks, they all did. Each series a different kind but the same look, but you… You were unique. 

Zenyatta and Genji were talking, Ramattra sitting by his brothers side trying to ignore the ninja’s ramblings. It was supposed to be a meditation session, but of course, the ninja had other ideas and proceeded to gloat about his renewed and blossoming relationship with his brother. When you stumbled upon the three, looking helpless like a lost puppy, they averted their attention to you. 

Genji was the first to make a noise, a sound of surprise as his eyes widened while he looked you up and down. Zenyatta and Ramattra stayed silent, their orbs the only other sound in the room. When your voice broke through the awkwardness, the three men stand. 

“I don’t suppose you could help me find my way to the garden?” You asked, voice a little shaky and staticky. 

Ramattra stepped forward, offering a hand. 

“I will escort you.” He bowed his head slightly before bidding Zenyatta and his pet human goodbye and leaving the room with you following behind. 

The silence was comfortable yet Ramattra couldn’t help but wonder about you. 

“You are different from the others.” He states, not deterring from the path nor his speed. 

There was a hum in response and the omnic looks down at you. He notices you’re looking forward, seemingly in your own world as you walk beside him. 

“Do you have a name?” He asks.

He’s met with silence.

Ramattra silently sighs. Not one for conversation, huh? 

Instead of talking, he looks over you once more. The model make and number appears in his HUD, a rare and unique model and quite expensive too. One would be lucky to even afford such a delicate piece of equipment. 

He’s curious, and rightly so. Who and why? A ball-jointed omnic, no, you seem too human to be an omnic. You’re an anomaly Ramattra can’t wrap his system around. He goes back to his initial thinking; a ball-jointed omnic is wandering about the area, you look like a doll. A fully functioning toy doll. A kid would love to grasp and pull at you if it had the chance. 

He thinks for a moment. A collectors toy, that is what you look like. The larger omnic looks back over at you and it makes more sense to him, but he doesn’t speak out loud. You look like a doll that should be sitting on a shelf, encased with glass, one for people to look at. 

“You keep staring at me.” 

Ramattra shifts, looking forward again. “My apologies. I am merely curious about you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.” 

“I will not be the last, it seems.” He huffs, looking out of the window as you both pass it. 

“No, you won’t be.” 

“Are you always this…” 

“This, what? Straight? Yes.” 

“I see.” Ramattra feels the tension in the air and stays silent. He pushed the wrong way and made you uncomfortable, but he dismisses the feeling as he pushes forward and opens the door towards the garden. “Here you go.” 

It’s like a switch had flipped instantly, your mood heightens as you practically run past him and out into the community garden. With the sun beaming down onto your arms, your face warming up, it felt like a dream. It had been too long since you had seen natural beauty and after hearing that this was the place to see it, you made your way here. 

Ramattra watches on, catching you staring at the bark on the trees, hands gently touching the ridges, feeling the coarse and damp wood. It had been raining two hours prior, the soil beneath your feet still soggy as your feet sunk into the dirt. There wasn’t a care in the world at that moment and Ramattra felt himself admiring the kid like excitement within you. 

Hey stays by the door, arms crossed over his chest as he keeps an eye on you. Hands playing with the leaves upon the tree, gently fingers grazing the flower petals. Knees and feet caked in mud, joints becoming sticky and grinding against each other, but you did not care. 

This… This is what you came here to do. To be free, to study… To be yourself.

Genji

Your appearance was something neither three had ever seen before. They stared at you with a mix of emotions. Mainly awe and curiosity. Omnics had their defaulted looks, they all did. Each series a different kind but the same look, but you… You were unique. 

Zenyatta and Genji were talking, Ramattra sitting by his brothers side trying to ignore the ninja’s ramblings. It was supposed to be a meditation session, but of course, the ninja had other ideas and proceeded to gloat about his renewed and blossoming relationship with his brother. When you stumbled upon the three, looking helpless like a lost puppy, they averted their attention to you. 

Genji was the first to make a noise, a sound of surprise as his eyes widened while he looked you up and down. Zenyatta and Ramattra stayed silent, their orbs the only other sound in the room. When your voice broke through the awkwardness, the three men stand. 

“I don’t suppose you could help me find my way to the garden?” You asked, voice a little shaky and staticky. 

Genji did not hesitate at all as he practically jumped towards you. 

“I’ll go with you! Come on!” His arm wrapped around your shoulders while he escorted you out of the room and down the hallway. “So, what made you come here?” His voice was sweet and excited. You didn’t know why, but it felt comfortable. 

“I heard there was natural beauty here.” 

“Ah! The garden!” Genji exclaimed. “Yes! We would usually meditate outside but it is raining. Perhaps the rain has finally let up.”

“You were meditating?” 

“We were. Well, Zenyatta and Ramattra were, but I had news I wanted to share with my master.”

“Your ‘master’?” 

Genji nods as he walks alongside you. “Zenyatta. After a life changing altercation with my brother, Zenyatta practically took me in and guided me on the right path.”

“You’re talking about your appearance?” 

Genji nods once again and perhaps thats where it clicked with him. He felt drawn to you because you were similar to him. He could feel it. “My brother tried to kill me. Family issues and such, I won’t bore you with the details.”

You shake your head. “I was the same. Not with family, but my lover. I was on deaths door, chronic illness, I wanted to die, but he had other plans… And here I am now.” 

“Did it take awhile to get used to it? It did for me.” Genji softens his voice, tone apologetic. 

“Yes. I felt numb. My mind was there, but feeling wasn’t. I screamed, cried, shouted, anything, you name it. I didn’t ask for this.” 

“Nobody would ask for this. They should’ve respected your wishes.” His hand rests on your back, just below your neck, resting between where your shoulder blades would be. “I am sorry to bring it back up.” 

“Don’t apologise, you didn’t know.” 

There was a comforting silence as the pair of you walked through the hallway before Genji stopped beside a door. He heard the rain outside, but pushed the door open, letting the wind hit you. 

“You don’t have to go-” Before he even finished his sentence, you were already passed him, outside in the rain. Arms outstretched, face looking up, it’s like you had never been in the rain before. Genji chuckled, hiding under the shelter as he watched on. 

The ninja watched on, his eyes not leaving your body as you’d wander the garden in the rain. For once, Genji felt comfortable being around another person, someone who was just like him. Through pain and trauma, he hopes to get close to you, to know more about you, your insecurities, flaws, what makes you, you. 

He watched as you knelt down in the mud, fingers gliding over rose petals before picking up a snail that had been passing by. He chuckled once more when he watches you place it on a nearby leaf.

Time would only tell how these two would get along, but Genji hopes the feelings will become mutual in time.

Zenyatta

Your appearance was something neither three had ever seen before. They stared at you with a mix of emotions. Mainly awe and curiosity. Omnics had their defaulted looks, they all did. Each series a different kind but the same look, but you… You were unique. 

Zenyatta and Genji were talking, Ramattra sitting by his brothers side trying to ignore the ninja’s ramblings. It was supposed to be a meditation session, but of course, the ninja had other ideas and proceeded to gloat about his renewed and blossoming relationship with his brother. When you stumbled upon the three, looking helpless like a lost puppy, they averted their attention to you. 

Genji was the first to make a noise, a sound of surprise as his eyes widened while he looked you up and down. Zenyatta and Ramattra stayed silent, their orbs the only other sound in the room. When your voice broke through the awkwardness, the three men stand. 

“I don’t suppose you could help me find my way to the garden?” You asked, voice a little shaky and staticky. 

He approached you almost silently, feet tapping gently on the ground before he extends his hand. 

“I will escort you. Follow me.” His voice was fluid for an omnic, which was soothing to your ears. Once the pair of you had left the room, just overhearing Ramattra telling Genji to shut up, Zenyatta chuckles and guides you through the halls. 

“Do not mind those two.” He states, moving his hand as he speaks. “They have been at it like children since Genji got here.” 

He hears the hum of response and takes a moment to look over you. Zenyatta’s model wasn’t as advanced as Ramattra’s, but he could do the basic scanning of people, but you… were not entirely human. 

“You are quite similar to Genji.” 

“Which one is he?” 

“The less omnic looking one. The one who sat to the left of me.” He chuckles.

“Oh, him.” There was a short pause. “How so?”

“You have mechanics within your body. You are not entirely human, are you?” He asks, head cocking to the side. 

“No.” 

“I see. I will not press, I am here to talk if you want to.” He offers, tone laced with a comforting frequency that began settling the anxiousness within you. The monk pauses for a moment before continuing. “Are you here for a reason? We do not get many guests.”

“Nature. I heard stories form the village.” 

“Ah. Our garden. Yes. It is quite magnificent. Well cared for too.” He hums, nodding his head. “We have gardeners and groundskeepers in there at all hours of the day. Perhaps you may make a few friends.” 

There was a friendliness in his voice as he kept speaking. While he was doing so, his systems were wondering what had happened to you for you to be like this. The porcelaine like features of your body intrigued him, the ball-jointed appearance made you look like a doll, and while not something he had seen before, he wanted to know more. 

His thoughts stopped when they arrived at the archway, the garden just outside. He went to speak but you had already vanished into the greenery. The gardeners watched on, the groundskeepers laughing as they watched this human-omnic wander into the flower beds and bushes. 

Zenyatta sat down on a nearby bench, keeping a close eye on you. He was in complete awe of you and his systems began to work through any and all possible outcome to his feelings. He was curious, much like were in this moment.

You examined the bugs under the rocks, picking them up to get a closer look before placing them back down into the dirt. With the sun on your face, it felt like a surreal dream, one you never wanted to wake from. 

The omnic monk kept his gaze within your direction, chuckling to himself as the minutes passed by. Perhaps another familiar face wouldn’t be unwelcome here…

[subzerosongie]

LUCIFER SFW HEADCANNONS

Omnisexual and Demiromantic, Lucifer finds beauty in just about everyone. 

Struggles with affection, Lucifer's rank as an Angel wasn't known for being overly affectionate. Lucifer can come across as suffocating and controlling when he shows affection. 

Has deep tissue scars where his angel wings used to be, he did rip them clean off his body.

On the rare occasion he misses his old life but that's a rare feeling, usually when he's heavily intoxicated 

He's aware that he misses the memories and not the Celestial Realm himself

His feelings towards the Celestial Realm are mixed at best and negative at worst. 

He wishes he could goof off like the others, but understands his role

Struggles with emotions, both others and his own. 

Admittedly self indulgent, he makes no effort to hide his fondness for alcohol 

Knows how much he has to drink to get to the level of intoxicated he desires

Insists he's not addicted

Smokes when he's particularly stressed out.

Was a leading example of virtue while in the Celestial realm for most of his time there. 

Had a rebellious teen phase

Thinks about having kids more often than he'd even admit to

The idea of Romantic relationships with him makes him uneasy, he hasn't been in one in ages and the last one didn't end well. 

This is because despite all his good traits as a romantic partner his struggles with affection and general tendencies to be protective, even overprotective at times make him worry about chasing people away

This said, Lucifer loves simple pet names like Darling, My Sweet, Love, Babe/Baby, Honey. He does have a few special ones he's fond of using towards his lover.

Scars litter his body, most are superficial but aside from the wings one, other deep scars are on his chest, lower back, neck, face, arms and legs. 

Finds humans endlessly fascinating 

Fangs adorn his top and bottom jaws where human canines are located. 

Has a beastly demon form, he's rarely had to use it and are a mix of a demon and his symbolic animals of Peacock and Bat. He also hates this form.

Likes the harder musical genres outside cursed records. Metal and Rock are his favourites

Cat person, dogs can be too demanding for his tastes

Likes Salty foods

Winter is favourite season

Heat is actually hard for him to deal with

Devildom's natural climate is perfect for him

He regrets his fall, if he could do it again he'd make sure his brothers got to stay.

Had a decent singing voice, he doesn't sing very often though

Slightly an ambivert, heavily leaning introvert. 

He craves social interaction but it drains him pretty fast

Mammon is as much his favourite brother as Mammon is the bane of his existence 

Easily flustered when it comes to personal matters

One of his few fears are dying and being called back to the Celestial Realm and losing his family

Likes True Crime

Has PTSD the worst of his Brothers

Also has Depression, it presents through anger and bouts of despondency, he rarely cries or expresses his emotions any other way

He doesn't like this, but doesn't know any other way.

However one way to loosen him up to cry is again, make him intoxicated.

Pride, Lust, Wrath, Envy, Greed, Gluttony and Sloth are the sins ranked in order of intensity 

Workaholic

Rarely eats, when he does he eats larger portions to counteract the frequency 

Has a hard time sleeping, usually naps throughout the day or when everyone else is sleeping

Lucifer has fallen asleep at his desk more than once.

Gifted in Mathematics 

Actually doesn't like to use his powers outside of necessity 

Tries to get into or research his brother's hobbies to try and bond with them, with varying rates of success. Works out with Beel, Reads what Satan is reading, lets Asmo paint his nails, etc

More compassionate and caring than his demeanour shows 

Wishes to amend things with Satan but understands that to do that, it is on Satan's terms to do so and not a moment sooner

Lucifer's favourite holiday is Halloween

When not working, he's usually reading or corralling his brothers in someway

Takes comfort in Diavolo

Probably needs glasses 

Unhealthily relies on Coffee

One of the other brothers have to go in and give him food/drink or drag him from his desk from time to time

Bad at charging his phone

[theforgottenmcrmy]

live reactions to house of the dragon season 2, episode 2

once again, these are just my opinions (about a fictional show and characters, no less). I will not engage with incendiary arguments (if there are any) , but I am always open to polite discussions or thoughts🖤

spoilers below the cut

still loving this new intro🖤

can you imagine how terrifying it would be to be a servant in the Red Keep post 🩸 and 🧀?

Aegon’s voice literally doesn’t even sound like Aegon👀

And just WHERE have you been, Aemond?!

“We mustn’t me shaken by this.” BROOO are you kidding me?!?! That was your great grandson?

“The gods punish us. They punish me.” Yes.

Tyland I can’t even with you lmao-

Paranoid Aegon here we go…

I will give Aegon major kudos for initially objecting to Otto’s plan to parade about his son’s body. 💚 his instincts are there at times, he has just always been coddled, misguided, and not reprimanded when he needed to be.

Why is Aegon the only one spared from this parade? They 110% could have had her refrain from going out in public, and it might have been more effective. “The queen is so distraught, she is unable to leave her chambers.” Where’s the lie? And you spare that poor girl even more torture.

Helaena never wanted this, never wanted to be queen.💔 She’s not a queen who lost a prince, she is just a mother who lost her son.

Helaena is seeing something, I just don’t know what…

Where are the damn guards in this show?!?! So six go to unstick the carriage, you telling me you only have a handful of guards escorting the queen and dowager queen out and about in public?🤔

Daemon’s side eye I cannot😭😂-

Even Rhaenyra knows Helaena is innocent🖤

Anyone else’s Max suddenly run into an error at this point?

The fact that Daemon actually thinks it’s humorous😅

Godssssss this argument is painful but good, and it’s needed, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it💔

“You struck down a child.” The audible HURT in her words-

Baela has had a handful of scenes, if even that, and I already feel like we as the audience know who her character is and what she’s about right away. And her and Rhaenyra’s relationship dynamic is so honestly wholesome.

Whatever brownie points Aegon gained earlier are lost for him not having the balls to say even a WORD to Helaena, who ALSO lost a child, who, unlike him, had to go be paraded about the public for HIS political advantage.

Seeing Rhaenyra with her younger sons makes me seriously wonder what if🥺

Feeling guilty, Ser Crispy? Good.

REALLY? This b*tch really out here preaching about purity rn?! Gtfo now.

And NOW he’s pointing fingers?! Is this guy 35, or 5?!

“He’s murdered, on YOUR watch-“ is he dying soon? He’s dying soon, right? Honestly his death can’t come soon enough and I doubt it’ll even be this season-

Otto and Cole are probably the two most irredeemable characters on this whole show. Literally, team black or team green, I think just about every other person you can make an argument for. But these two have got nothing. Name me one thing, one expression of care for another that was not ultimately self serving for either of them in the end. I’ll wait.

“And Ser Harwin Strong?” BAELA KNOWS 🚨 BAELA KNOWS, and she doesn’t give AF, we stan🖤🖤🖤

This little relationship Aemond has going on is 🚩 🚩 🚩 where are this boy’s parents at-?! … Oh, wait.

“Where he does, he wishes to be his own master.” Rhaenys and Daemon just get each other. Their dynamic is so interesting.

“A week, or forever I do not know.” She sounds so unbothered😂😂😂

Uh oh Alicent, Rhaenyra may have just found a new bff👀 and it only took 16+ years

Seasmoke is that you?!?!?! Wait, what does this mean for Laenor though?🥲

Errors are STILL being made in the wake of Viserys’s death I see…

The dog’s reaction nooo😭😭😭

“The king is my grandson, and my grandson is a fool. He’s worse than a fool, he’s murdered innocent men!” You can say allll the foul stuff about Otto you want, and you’d be right. But he is not wrong in this moment. This reaction is valid, and in my opinion sound council. The delivery could be tailored to better fit Aegon’s current headspace, but Otto’s reaction is still valid here I feel.

Crazy how Aegon went from wanting the small folk’s approval to scoffing at the need for it.

“Ser Criston Cole has acted.” BOY if you knew HOW Ser Criston Cole has been acting-

Also crazy how fast Aegon went from being pissed with Cole being “in bed” at the time of Jaehaerys’s murder to praising him and putting him in a pedestal.

“It’s time the bitch queen paid the price.” Could Larys have his guys cut out HIS tongue now?! Please??? Literally no one but Aegon, who’s grieving, paranoid, and a little off the rails rn, wants to hear a damn thing from him. Not even his dowager queen booty call wants anything from him rn.

I think Otto’s gonna give himself a heart attack.

Yooooo, Otto realizing that Aegon is going to be waaaaaaay harder to control than Viserys ever was😭😂😂😂 I love it. I need more. This is wonderful.

“He made me king.” *Otto laughs.*

“You will regret this.” THAT actually may be the truest words Otto has ever spoken to anyone, any king, in his life.

Mysaria is already proving her loyalty, we love to see it🖤

Moral of the story is everyone, the Greens and the Blacks, need better guards like😅

If anything happens to Elinda-

Oooo, we’re doing this here and now?🥲

Ser Erryk died with more honor than Criston EVER had. And that is a hill I will die on myself.

Hell, even Arryk had more honor than Criston.

DAERON?!?!?!?!??!!?? LET’S F’ING GO

Oh, you can ask for the Tyrell’s to help, but something tells me you won’t get it👀

It’s honestly tragic as hell how Alicent was a victim of her father’s plots in her youth, and continues to be one as an adult. (I am in no way saying she has not made her own choices throughout her life, but I still stand by this statement.)

THE NERVE OF THIS MAN-

THE NERVE OF THIS WOMAN-

Okay, team black, team green, team small folk, idc- can we please all agree that everyone is anti-Criston Cole?

Aemond was not in this episode nearly enough for what happened in the last one.

[vickyvicarious]

putting my reactions under a cut 'cause it's long today

honestly surprised van Helsing was able to restrain himself from a joke about the "grave duty" to be done at Lucy's tomb

Jack sounds so offended by van Helsing correctly figuring out that he is back to being skeptical. It's subtle but feels quite petulant.

"He held out a hand, which Quincey took." ~handshakes of friendship~

"I don't quite like to 'buy a pig in a poke,' as they say in Scotland," ~Art's slang~

oh god the way Art says "monstrous joke" the poor man

he is just jumping up and down. god AND THE WAY HE CHOKES UP ON GRAVE DESECRATION

"But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths; or later, and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!" from Art's perspective van Helsing just said 'we have to break in to your fiance's grave or she's going to hell' for no reason, no wonder he warns him

WHEN HE THINKS SHE WAS BURIED ALIVE. Arrrrrrrrttttt

"May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?" VAN HELSING PLEASE

"I shall not give my consent to anything you do! I have a duty to do in protecting her grave from outrage; and, by God, I shall do it!"" auugh I love Arthur shouting at van Helsing so much. He is so protective and he loves her so much and, I dunno, it's good to hear him not holding himself back for a moment

poor van Helsing listening to this though. Definitely feels like another moment when he feels especially paternal to Arthur, and being shouted at like this when he's trying so hard hurts him. I love his delivery and how sad and determined he is

he DID give so much to Lucy. he did all he could and he is still doing all he can for her

the way Jack's voice goes quiet when he is describing Arthur in the tomb. also Art's moment of fury when he sees the already-damaged lead coffin, but he sets it aside because he believes they care deeply and mean no harm

Quincey always asking the real questions.

Jack's hoarse voice when he says "Yes" to Lucy being in the grave before

The palpable, almost physical "Ohh but it was seemed fresh and pure" when they step outside

Jack: Arthur was thinking it over. I was tempted to believe. Quincey was so brave and manly with his tobacco and his phlegmatic disposition.

the mental image of all the suitors just standing there tilting their heads confusedly as van Helsing sticks his Host playdoh into the doorframe, working his way around. I imagine it took a few minutes. no mention of them helping.

faraway howling of dogs! Lucy is moving out there somewhere... also I love the sound of them

the way Jack says "a big, aching void" is sooo good. a small moment but so evocative

oh god the kid's whimpers make it so much worse

the way he repeats "Lucy Westenra"...

Art nearly collapsing at the sight of her bloody mouth. THE POOR MAN

oh the disgust when Jack says "the thing that was before us", as well as his voice shaking on "unclean" and when he gets to "hate and loathing" he is so utterly disgusted by her

I love her hissed breath

"There was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur; when she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands." POOR ART

oh damn, she sounds so sweet and gentle and deeply dangerous when she talks to Arthur. I absolutely love that delivery, you can hear echoes of the way Lucy spoke but it's not the same

god poor art. this is horrible horrible horrible

"We all looked on in horrified amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, with a corporeal body as real at that moment as our own, pass in through the interstice where scarce a knife-blade could have gone." yet again wishing for a good animated adaptation of Dracula. It would just look silly in live action but you could do some really cool perspective/animation of this

the little shake on "we tried to cheer each other on the way" :( :( :(

"Arthur trembling like an aspen" once again I love how expressive he is physically. he feels emotions strongly and he shows them!

BRACING myself for the soundscaping of the staking, by the way

so much disgust whenever Jack describes her

the rustling/clinking/etc of van Helsing's vampire killing kit is so good. I also totally get why Art and Quincey feel distressed watching him pull this all out.

I love that he calls it "the curse of immortality"

"We all looked at Arthur." OOOF.

the music here is excellent

aghhh her faint screams. the music building. Jack's voice getting louder and fiercer, it's so intense

oh I wish there was a hammer falling sound

oh Art.... :(

the soft, soft way Jack describes her this time

Art you do not need to be forgiven.

"He put his hands on the Professor's shoulder, and laying his head on his breast, cried for a while silently, whilst we stood unmoving." WHY IS NO ONE HUGGING HIM (but yes art. cry all you need.)

why do art's sad smooch noises get to me every timmmmmme

the birds and music and Jack's voice on "the air was sweet" SO good and evocative and again you could do so much with the color palette of this vs the tomb/night in an animated version. film too but even more animation

~handshakes of vampire-hunting friendship~

"what is to do and to dread" the use of alliteration is so good in this line. especially with van Helsing's accent, it sounds so good

"The Professor was delighted." The Mina Effect strikes again

the importance of the documents!!

ohh the smile in his voice when he greets Mina.

"her luggage, which included a typewriter" the slight incredulity is lovely. hehehehehe

"She does not know how precious time is, or what a task we have in hand. I must be careful not to frighten her." buddy YOU are the one who doesn't know. well, okay, you know some of it but she definitely knows the rest

Mina immediately nerding out over the phonograph <3

It's nice to hear slightly awkward but fond Jack voice again. He's so charmed by her immediately. And so stumbling/awkward, and his voice is so much brighter than it has been

"But do you know that, although I have kept the diary for months past, it never once struck me how I was going to find any particular part of it in case I wanted to look it up?" JACK. Why are you only just realizing this???? Have you never once tried to review any of the case notes you've been recording in here? I can get not listening to the Lucy diaries, but...

I feel like there might be something to be said about Mina repeatedly emphasizing that these men do not know her, until she gives them the diaries to read. Especially going hand in hand with "I love you therefore he loves you" and Jack's response to Mina that he knows her now/should know her from Lucy

Ohh, the way he gets jealous of Mina's crying and letting her emotions out. Definitely feels like this is tied up in his ideas of gender but I wish he would allow himself to cry properly. Learn from Art. Heck, cry with Art.

Mina's little sniffles are so good. And her immediate protectiveness of Jack is SO sweet. Even as she makes him face that they must share his thoughts she will keep his voice hidden.

Mina was crying like that just from listening until 7 September (the first transfusion). Poor dear, she's still in for a terrible ride.

The two of them sitting back to back learning of one another's pain...

I love his little gasped "good lord!" as he gets her brandy

And then she dives STRAIGHT IN to writing it all out. God, Mina's so brave and goes straight to work every time. And makes important connections immediately, like now with the papers!

Jonathan ON the boxes! He is also making important connections and diving right in to work.

"Everything had been carefully thought out, and done systematically and with precision. He seemed to have been prepared for every obstacle which might be placed by accident in the way of his intentions being carried out." The little shiver to his voice.... gahhh

But Dracula's precision means that if you know what he is doing then at least you can predict where he will be/what he's up to. So there's at least a bit of an upside.

~*~BRIBERY~*~ and also such poor thirsty men again. hehehehe I love Jonathan's jokes about it

[derangedanomaly]

[smiles like a comically evil cartoon villain] o you thought it would be blade FLUFF?? blade COMFORT?? heheh nah have a torture scene featuring poor fuckin Chaos - yugioh anon

TW: reader gets tortured (why are we dating Red Flag Man inventor of “fuckin avoid that guy” you ask? well bc i think he is cool), people witness said torture, you kinda got a knife just stuck in ya for a bit, surrounded by corpses, basically gore you don’t like gore then hit The Scroll

Consequences. Were these consequences for those times you stayed silent? You knew about the murders, about the bodies that lay under the floors here, about the storage compartments for the bodies. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t say anything because of a few reasons. Would you live to tell the tale? Would someone even be able to stop them? You try to ignore your last reason, but it’s all you can think about right now. Would you ever be able to attempt to endanger him, even knowing what he is? Your answer was no. You couldn’t. This was what happened because of your dog-like loyalty.

A gorgeous blade. You remember it as the one you exclaimed to Blade that it was mesmerizing, how the patterns were so eye-catching and the way it looked so sharp yet smooth. He’d shown you multiples of his knives before, but ordered you to not touch them. This was the one time he let you hold it before, for some reason, snatching it back out of your hands and placing it back into the stand. Your original thought was that your loving boyfriend didn’t want you to get yourself hurt. Now, it seems more like he just didn’t want to kill you that early in. He’s noted before that he likes playing with his prey, but you just silently nodded and switched the subject. Concern plagued your thoughts for so long, but you became scared of risking him attacking. It’s only now you realize it was set in stone as that blade is set in your arm, effectively pinning you to the floor with agonizing pain. You’d throw up, but the metallic scent doesn’t even mess with you anymore since you’ve sat under those boards with the bodies for days. You’ve had lunch with cold, lifeless, victims. It was a miracle he didn’t force you to eat any of them.

Even when you’re silent, Blade stares at you with heart eyes. You wish he’d look at you like that when he wasn’t stabbing you. “Aww, baby, you look so good covered in your own blood! See, I know you liked dress-up and all that but isn’t this a far better costume? It never gets old!” He encourages, praising you as he runs his hand down your arm next to the knife. He pushes it in a bit further, but you don’t make a sound. You don’t want to alert anyone and you don’t want him to stab you again, it’s what happened the last time you pathetically pleaded with him.

Both of you are so caught up in the bloody moment that you don’t hear cautious footsteps. You see him before you hear him, maybe your senses are delayed because of what’s happening, but he shouts, “BLADE! Blade, what the HELL are you doing?!”

You’ve never heard Chaos yell like that before. Despite his words, he sounds concerned and terrified. Maybe the near throne of bodies under the floorboards is why. It could also be that you, Chaos’s friend and Blade’s partner, are being stabbed BY said partner. Look, you’re allowed to be petty in your own thoughts when you’re being tortured.

Blade instantly drops the second knife he was holding. A face stricken with terror, like a little kid lost in a dark forest a long while from home, takes over his former expression of undying love. He makes a few sounds, like he’s attempting to say something, but just doesn’t know what to tell him.

“Chaos, hey, how was the- hrm- the trip to the gro-ow-cery store?” You ask, trying to get up but wincing in pain as you do. He answers by grabbing Blade up in his tentacles, but not hurting them like Blade seems to believe as he braces for his bones to be crushed like an ant under a shoe. Chaos restrains them like that and rushes to your side, nearing tears as he sees the state his friend is in.

“Hey, look, look at me? Good, good. You’re gonna be okay! I can probably get you to a human doctor and I can try and use healing magic to stabilize you along the way? Oh, how would my magic even effect humans… Bu-But you’ll be alright!” Chaos reassures you, knowing not to take the knife out from your very basic first aid informing session when he apparently had a LOT wrong about human aid. You chuckle weakly in response, crying out in pain as he picks you up. Normally, one stab wound would hurt terribly, but you could move without wincing every second. Days down here, being tortured till Blade’s content with your sobs, after being cut up nearly every day wasn’t making your body cooperative.

Looking at Blade, he looks… you’ve not seen that face before. He seems guilty, but you wonder if that’s another act of his. You can tell he’s worried, but you’re unsure if it’s for you or himself. Staring at him, you realize something. Even after it all, you just want to give him a hug and sob into his arms like you’ve done when you’ve been in immense pain before. You want to feel that coat hang around your shoulders as he rubs your hand and distracts you with a game or a show. You miss the old Blade, but it pains you more than those days of torture to question if he ever really changed.

AHHH I LOVE THIS!! YET ANOTHER MASTERPIECE BOUGHT TO US BY YUGIOH ANON!!

I'll never get tired of your imagines! You're such a good writer! I think you should consider (if you don't do it yet) running an account, or writing an actual fic! You're writing is always so greatly executed!

I love it! 10/10

[neyla9]

Fair on the nightmare fuel, but I don’t know if I would describe his fairytales as “cute fairytales”. While they’re not as dark as the Brothers Grimm, his fairytales are known for either being satires/parodies of the upperclass, or horrifying tragedies with a lot of dark subject matter.

I’ll skip stories like The Little Mermaid and The Little Matchstick Girl, as most people already know about them, but here are some other stories:

The Tinder-Box: A soldier is asked by an elderly witch to fetch her dead sister’s tinder-box from a chamber hidden inside a tree, as the witch is too old and frail to get it herself. In exchange, she gives him the means to get to the three treasure chests also hidden in there, containing copper, silver, and gold coins each, telling the soldier that he can have as many coins as he can carry as payment. The soldier does so, filling his pockets, boots, and even his hat with coins before grabbing the tinder-box. Once out, he demands to know why the witch wants the tinder-box before handing it to her; the witch refuses to answer, so the soldier chops off her head. This is only the start of the soldier’s misdeeds, as his romance with the princess consists of him repeatedly kidnapping her while she’s asleep, and threatening to have his giant dogs eat the princess’ parents unless he and princess gets married.

The Girl Who Stepped on the Loaf: A poor girl gets adopted from her poor family into a rich family, and quickly becomes a spoiled brat. Her new family one day sends her off to visit her old family, along with a loaf of bread to give them as a gift. On the way there, the girl has to go through a boggy area and, not wanting her new shoes to get dirty, she dumps the loaf to use it as a stepping stone. Upon stepping on the loaf, she falls down, straight to hell, where she is then frozen in place, forced to remain still for years, as toads, snakes and the like crawl all around her body, while also receiving visions of how her story has become a cautionary tale parents tell their kids; with everyone agreeing that she deserved what happened to her. That is except one little girl, who does express sympathy for her, but she still stays in hell until that little girl is an old woman laying on her dead bed, whose final wish is that God will forgive the girl that stepped on the loaf. And upon seeing that, the girl apologizes to God and she is finally freed from hell and allowed to go to heaven.

The Ugly Duckling: While being mostly told as an optimistic story, the actual fairytale is a story about how trauma and abuse makes people suffer; the titular ugly duckling is bullied by its siblings, pecked at by the chickens, and kicked at by the farmhand, all of them calling him ugly and beastly, until even the ugly duckling’s mother, who at first defended him, starts to wish he wasn’t there. So the ugly duckling runs away from home; from that moment onward, no one ever again rejects the duckling for being ugly, but the duckling still assumes that every bad thing that happens to him, is because he is so ugly, until it reaches a point where he decides he would rather die than continue living; the only reason why he changes his mind is because he realizes that he is a swan and he gets accepted by a swan flock.

And finally

The Red Shoes: The story about a girl whose punishment for wearing red dancing shoes to church, is that they begin to force her to dance until she dies of exhaustion. The only way to stop them, was for her to get an executioner to chop off her feet, but even then, the shoes keep dancing on their own, with her feet still stuck inside them.

Hans Christian Andersen is best known for his cute fairytales but he also wrote some nightmare fuel.

The Shadow is about a young man who jokingly tells his shadow to sneak into a room only for it to actually disappear. It spends a few years getting rich by spying on people from the shadows, seeing them do horrible unspeakable things and blackmailing them, then returning to it’s former master and forcing him to become it’s shadow.

[seokiloquy]

Letters for Lovers - Suna Rintarou

Au: Regular

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader 

Word Count: 2.5k

Suna’s mind worked faster than his mouth. He wished he could come up with witty remarks to retaliate against his teammates and opponents alike as they tried to rile him up, but he often failed to say a word, instead, ruminating over possibilities with a blank face. 

He found his blank expression to be both a blessing and a curse. While it worked as an excellent mirror, causing hecklers to become annoyed from the lack of response, it also meant any time he wanted to react, he fell short.

“Suna, if you keep staring they’ll think you’re jealous,” Kita advised, flicking between watching the quiet man at his side, and the pair at the other side of the table.

Suna couldn’t come up with a response.

Across the table, the blond Miya twin had his arm draped casually over your shoulder. He’d pull you tightly into his side as he spoke, or teasingly try to feed you some of his food. Atsumu would show off his bond with you every chance he got and you would reciprocate the affection, by hugging him around the ribs, laughing at his jokes, and messing his hair up when the opportunity presented itself.

Of course, Suna couldn’t tell Atsumu to not be your friend, just as he could tell you to not be Atsumu’s. Suna wasn’t in the position to interfere with a decade-long bond after only appearing in the final two of those years. 

“Hey, Suna, are you going deaf? Maybe we need to clean your ears again.”

He looked up to see you snickering into your palm while Atsumu stared at him with anticipation. Atsumu waited, watching, holding your shoulder tightly.

“What was that?”

Atsumu sulked, which usually was enjoyable enough, but the sound of your roaring laughter while you shoved the blond around brought a smile to his face.

He’d take those moments where you were responsive to his presence. He just wished it was just him. If only he could say the words.

A piece of paper fell from your shoe locker. You screeched, jumping back as far away from the sheet as you should get. You ignored the eyes that turned toward the sound and slumped against the metal at your back.

Footsteps rounded the corner of the lockers. Momo looked frantic. “What happened? Why are you screaming.”

Pushing off the lockers that you had shoved yourself up against, you grabbed the paper from the floor and waved it in the air for Momo to see. “Nothing, I’m just deathly afraid of papercuts.”

“Har har. You got a letter? Let's see it! Come on, come on!”

Forget the original fear, Momo ran to your shoulder, peaking over it while you unfolded it.

“It’s probably a flyer for another club— what the hell?”

“A secret admirer! You have to be kidding me! You lucky dog. Why do you get so much attention?”

“I don’t. My friends are just extroverts.” Momo shrunk under your glare. You turned to the page.

“I don’t think Atsumu and I are the only people you know, but alright.”

“Would you be quiet? People are looking and I’m trying to read it.”

Your laughter fills a room, and as shrill as it may be, I’d listen to it for all eternity. 

Yours,

S

“I don’t know if this is meant to be an insult or not.”

Momo slapped your shoulder, cackling. “They’re so right though. Your laugh is horrible!”

You shouldered her over, making her stumble. “You don’t have to be rude.”

“Hey, they said that they’d listen to it, so they must like you right?” You shrugged. “Eh, too bad though. Someone’s already caught your eye.”

Momo puckered her lips, smacking them together to make high squeaks. You forced her to kiss your palm, silencing her.

“It’s not my fault you’ve been pining for years. I’m just using it as an opportunity to tease you.”

You stuffed the letter into your bag and slipped on your outdoor shoes. “Don’t rub it in more, please. I know it’s hopeless.”

Placing a hand over the pocket where the letter resided you couldn’t help but hope that the sender was the object of your own affections.

Suna had no intention of overhearing your conversation over the lockers. He had run to the school entrance after finding out that Atsumu had switched his shoes in the morning as a prank. But after hearing whispers of a secret admirer, he couldn’t help but stay to listen.

The thought was clued to his mind throughout practice, night, and the following day until lunch when you were once again wrapped under Atsumu’s arm. He stared.

Could Atsumu have…? No, no it couldn’t be. Could it? But who else? 

“Suna? Are you okay? You haven’t eaten anything yet.”

When he zoned back in, he was looking into your eyes. He jumped back. Your eyes smiled at the movement.

“Ya, I’m fine. Just tired.” He quickly shoved some food into his mouth, hoping that it was enough to show a present state of mind.

Sadly, Atsumu would never let an opportunity present itself and not let it pass by without a word. “Tired? Were you up late last night? Should we check your search history?”

He couldn’t think up a response.

“Oh shut it you worm! Do you want me to reveal all the things you lookup? Everyone would lose their appetites.” You elbowed Atsumu in the side, and Suna had half the mind to laugh, but restrained himself once he saw the smirk on the blond’s face.

Atsumu leaned over your shoulder and whispered into your ear. Whatever it is he said caused you to throw a fit, smacking his chest and trying to shove him away. Suna couldn’t tell if you were embarrassed or angry, but try as you might, you couldn’t get the offender away as his arm stayed tight around your shoulder.

Suna gulped, remembering the letter you had found the day before, and gripped his uniform’s pants.

Atsumu had dragged the team along to the lockers, following behind you until you got to your locker.

Your smile is infectious even if the words that fall out are poison. But I’ll gladly suffer through your venomous bite when I know what follows is fueled by love.

Yours,

S

You squinted at the paper in your hands.

“Did this guy just compare me to a snake?”

Atsumu glanced at the letter, shrugging. “Seems kind of sweet.”

“Your sense of romance has been diluted. I don’t trust you to give me a rational thought.”

The rest of the volleyball team, along with Momo, were waiting by the entrance to leave. While you were about to walk forward and show your friend the second letter, Atsumu hipped you over so he could stand between you and his brother. In doing so, your arm pressed against the stone-faced middle-blocker.

“Sorry.”

You tried to souffle back and give him space, only for Momo to shove you back into the spot from behind. “Give me the letter, let me see!”

“Calm down you banshee!” You mentally cursed the girl for removing your escape route. “Take the damn letter.”

Your attention was stolen away by Atsumu as he nudged your arm. You fell into Suna’s side and shoved the blond back once you gained balance. You didn’t see Suna turn pink at the contact.

“You should be happy,” Atsumu smirked. “It’s not every day a snot like you gets a love letter. Shouldn’t you be jumping for joy?”

“The insinuation that people must not have crushes on me hurts, but it doesn’t matter. Why would I fall for some unknown person that calls me a snake and insults my laugh?”

“Well, there's only so much they can compliment.”

“You prick!”

Suna watched the interaction from your other side, occasionally looking back at the wrinkled love letter in Momo’s hands. On the sidelines, he could gather the information and make a conclusion without being noticed, but it was hard to calm his breathing while considering the possibilities.

There was Atsumu, your long-time friend that held most of your attention in the palm of his hand as if it were a controller for a game and he knew all the cheat codes. Then there was this mystery writer, who while they didn’t have much of a sense of romance, did have a sense of humour and definitely captured your eye in one way or another.

But something in the back of Suna’s mind couldn’t help but wonder if Atsumu had something to do with it. After forcing him to switch his shoes with a prank, and now dragging the team through the school to the shoe lockers, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a ploy or a coincidence.

Maybe Atsumu wanted to rub it in that he was closer to you before ultimately winning your affection fully. It wasn’t too far-fetched a thought. 

Suna curled into himself and held onto his gym bag tighter.

The next letter was worse than the last.

I know you like superheroes and have hard hits to match, so I’d let you hulk smash me any day.

Yours,

S

To make the matter even just a bit more ridiculous, the writing was stuck to a heart shaped paper, as if the packaging made the message sweeter.

You crumpled it in your hand.

Momo winced beside you. "Okay harsh, this is someone's feelings you're playing with, no need to grip it like a stress ball."

"At this point I'm more inclined to believe it is a prank."

As you slammed the locker shut, a whistle blew. Atsumu blinked at you, usual smirk quivering. He adjusted the tie of his uniform. "You know, I would've thought people usually save love letters as a keepsake. Like they do with rose petals?"

Behind him, his silver-haired twin adjusted his bag's strap on his shoulder and gave Atsumu a tired glare.

Rolling your eyes, you slipped on your outdoor shoes, shoving them over your heels. "I might have considered doing that with the first but they just keep getting worse. Whoever wrote them either hates me, or has no sense of romance."

"Hey, that's a bit—"

Osamu flicked Atsumu's neck. The blond swore and spun around to smack his twin. You sighed and hooked your arm through Momo's.

"Come on, let's get food without them."

There was a shadow in the doorway.

Gulping you gripped onto Momo tighter, which made her flick your leg to loosen up. Despite seeing her smirk from the corner of your eye you tried to ignore it, keep your smile neutral and relaxed. Momo continuing to egg you on made it difficult. Heat was pooling in your cheeks and you could feel yourself fumbling on the spot.

"Suna! You weren't waiting for us too long were you?"

Mom whispered, "You just said we were gonna ditch them," in your ear. Her smirk was audible.

"Shush."

"Uh no. I wasn't. Kita was wondering if you guys got your things in order."

You smiled. "Yup, everything's in order! Why don't we get going?"

"There was another love letter." Atsumu jumped onto your shoulder, wrapping his arm around your neck while he sang. "It was a little dirty this time."

Suna’s eyes widened a bit, revealing more of their golden colour while he looked to the team's setter. "Oh."

Atsumu suddenly felt like a ton as he slumped against you. He heaved a sigh.

"Whatever, let's just go. I'm hungry."

The following morning, Atsumu stormed into the club room, huffing hot air as he waved a price of paper above his head. The team immediately turned their attention his way, but the blond focused his sights on the brunet who slicked his hair back off his face.

"I'm tired of this!" Astumu harrumphed, slamming the paper into Suna's gym back. It crinkled, smudging the ink on the surface. "I can't keep writing these dumb letters to my best friend and hoping you'd react and do something about it. We know you like them. I can't keep trying to make you jealous. Just confess already!"

Suna flushed, red-faced and wide eyed, and fell back against the floor like an animal playing dead.

"You're kidding. THIS IS WHAT MAKES YOUR REACT!?"

Suna knew he didn't have a way with words, but he knew there was no way that he was even going to be able to speak for the coming hours.

Kita stood from his spot on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed along with his expression. "Atsumu, are you saying you're the one that wrote those letters?"

"Yes. Please. I did. Just help make it end already."

Osamu sighed. "You were trying to make Suna jealous more than he already was?"

Hearing his name, Suna curled unto himself tighter. He was easily losing the fight against his blood as it rushed to his face.

"Yes! No! I was trying to make Suna jealous and finally step up and confess, but also hoping that he might even take on the personal of the secret admirer if the letters worked. But nope, my letters sucked and Suna hasn't done a damn thing!"

Akagi's brows pinched while he neatly folded his inverted coloured uniform. "Why didn't you just put Suna as the sender?"

"I wanted to make him jealous."

"Besides," Osamu scoffed, "if he had, with his writing, (L/N) would have lost all feelings for Suna."

"What?!" 

Suna smacked his hands over his mouth, but didn't hide his eyes from staring down Osamu across the room.

"I'm surrounded by idiots."

"That's mean."

"I'm at least in a higher class than you."

Suna groaned into his palm before wrapping them away. "Can someone explain what I am missing, please?"

You were staring at the pink flower presented to you. Eyes flicking between the light coloured petals, the hand that held the dainty plant, and the owner of the appendage.

After two years of side eyeing the boy and trying to keep any embarrassing squeals of excitement down any time he glanced over, there he was, not even a step away from you, clutching the stem of a pretty flower as if it were a life line.

But the timing was too spot-on.

"Please tell me you were the one who wrote those letters."

"I'd like to think I'm a better poet than that, please don't compare me to that idiot."

You snorted, getting a small grin to appear between Suna’s cheeks. "I don't think I've ever heard you say something like that."

"I usually think about it. But I can't get it out."

You admired the flower with a hum before cupping the boy's hand and removing it from his clutch. You gave it a light whiff.

"Well, I'd love to hear more from you."

It was the first time you'd ever seen him blush.

Boop Be Doop. This was originally going to be in 1st person then habit took over, and its shitty~ I haven’t been able to write anything in weeks. - Bacon

It’s sweet :( - Kiwi 

Posted: 08/05/2022

[hispipsqueak]

Burned

Enji Todoroki x F!Reader - NSFW

A/N: So @cozykozume​ wanted me to name this “Cooling Down the Fire Daddy” so there’s that. Anyways, in case you didn’t know, I LOVE Enji Todoroki....like an extraordinary amount. Which is hilarious, because I started the series hating him but I digress. So here’s one of my favorite things I’ve written and also one of the longest posts because I just...I am just so soft for this man. <3 Pip

WC: 4.5K

TW: unprotected sex, feelings, slight size kink, oral (f receiving), drunk sex, slight angst if you squint, slight authority kink (good girl etc.)

H/N = Hero Name

When you stepped into the meeting that morning you weren't sure what to expect.

"Welcome back!" Midnight's cheery voice cut through the air, her eyes bright. You smiled at her as the rest of your colleagues responded with a variation of greetings and welcome's. You had been on a six month long mission across the globe and arrived back yesterday. Though you were slightly jetlagged, you were ready to throw yourself back in the grind of hero work.

As you took your seat your eyes roamed to the largest figure in the room. Endeavor had stayed silent, his eyes trained on the brief documents in front of him. Hell, you weren't even sure if he had noticed you had returned. Your heart sank slightly.

What did you expect? It had been six months, six long, confusing months since that night of booze and desire. Six months since you had felt his large hands wrapped around your body, his lips pressed against your neck hungrily as you grinded against him.

Fuck. You cut another glance at him. His eyes were narrowed as he read over the papers in front of him and his face was in it's permanent scowl. If he noticed you at all, he was doing a good job hiding it. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by Hawks swaggering in the room. 

"Hey h/n! Long time, no see! How was the mission?" He called out, pulling you into a friendly hug. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Enji shift. 

"Great. Managed to bust the kingpin and shut the entire operation down. Glad to be back though". You smiled back at the winged hero. He nodded, before taking his seat right next to the flame hero.

"Mornin' Endeavor!" his cheery voice rang out.

Enji grumbled a greeting, his eyes not looking up

Eraserhead cleared his throat from the head of the table.

"Let's get started."

You couldn't help zoning out as the dark haired hero discussed the current mission. You forced your eyes to stare at the file in front of you and not the man across from you. You were so focused, you almost didn't hear your name.

"H/N, you will be working with Endeavor."

Your eyes widened, and your head snapped up. You finally dared to look at Enji who's expression hadn't changed. As Eraser concluded the meeting, you steeled your nerves and walked to the flame hero.

"Endeavor, I-"

He cut you off. 

"Train. I will not be dragged down by you because you haven't sparred properly in six months." 

Your demeanor steeled. 

“I wasn’t just partying it up over there. I was working.”

If he cared, it didn’t register on his face. His turquoise eyes were fixed at the spot above you instead of meeting yours. Without another word, he turned to leave. You felt your face grow hot. Determined to not show emotion, you pursed your lips, grabbing your things to head back to your apartment.

---

“Endeavor, you lucky dog.”

Endeavor looked up from the paperwork on his desk with a bored expression.

“What are you talking about Hawks?” His voice was tinged with annoyance as he looked back down to the documents from the intel team.

“Stop pretending you aren’t thrilled to be working with H/N. She’s the BEST, and between you and me, she’s definitely one of the most beautiful heroes.” The blonde faux-whispered, tossing back his head in a chuckle.  Endeavor fixed him with an aggravated stare.

“I have no desire to work with H/N. She has been on a mission for 6 months, so we are at a disadvantage anyway, since I doubt she was actually working all of that time. Especially since her behavior is comparable to yours.”

Hawks cocked a bushy brow.

“Deny it all you want, big guy. Your body language is different when you’re around her. You should ask her out. I’m sure she’d say yes. Some girls like the mean and broody type.”

Smoke emitted from the corner of Endeavor’s desk, where his hand rested. Clearing his throat, he attempted to put it out, but not before the annoying bird hero noticed.

With a smirk, Hawks headed towards the door. 

“Don’t screw this up, Endeavor!”

----

What Hawks didn’t know is Enji had already screwed this up. Before you left, six long months ago, you and Endeavor were on relatively friendly terms. Well as friendly as one can be with the hotheaded flame hero. It was you that convinced him to go out that night with the other pro-heroes. And when the night ended, he had walked you home.

Surprisingly, he could be a gentleman when he wanted to be.

The walk home had been quiet, though you and Enji both had a bit to drink. Emboldened by the alcohol, you finally had turned to him.

“Enji, why do you try to push us away?��

Your boldness surprised him. It wasn’t a surprise he could come off a bit stoic, at best. Yet no one, especially newer heroes, called him out on this behavior. It was just “how he was”. Before he could stop himself he blurted out,

“I don’t wish to hurt people anymore.”

His face heated up and you could see a crimson blush rising up towards his ears. In that moment, you could see a glimpse of Enji, not Endeavor.

This wasn’t to say Enji wasn’t attractive. Yet, him exposing himself, allowing vulnerability? That made your heart jump in your chest. Turning away, you thought about what he meant. You knew his family had been estranged from him, his kids not a frequent presence in his life. You had seen a few gossip magazines detailing how his kids often avoided their childhood home, and you had read about Rei’s hospitalization. You imagined how lonely he must feel, though if there was truth to any of those rumors, you could see why they would be wary.

“This is your home, yes?” 

His voice broke your train of thought. You looked up and realized all too soon the two of you were outside your door. Your hand rested on the door handle and you imagined him sitting in a quiet living room, a house empty.

“Would you like to come in for a bit?” Your voice was squeaky and unsure and you were surprised when he grunted in affirmation. 

Wordlessly he followed you into the apartment. Somehow, without speaking, you could both feel it. The loneliness that bonded you, the freedom of being vulnerable in the dark blanket of the night, these moments allowing you to breathe and just be without expectation and titles. Because here, you weren’t pro-heroes, you were yourselves, seeking the tiny bits of comfort the other could provide. 

As you entered the apartment, the silence between you intensified. Your stomach was buzzing with nerves and as you looked up at him, you could feel the anticipation of who would break first. His hands found your hips and pulled you towards him, and soon his lips were on yours. He tasted like the scotch he had been drinking, warm and rich. His hands were hot where they met your skin, and you pressed closer in his embrace. Rough stubble scratched at your skin and you kissed him deeper, desperately wanting to let him in and lose yourself in him at the same time.

Your back pressed against the wall, and his fingers grazed the bottom of your shirt. Breathlessly you finally broke apart. Looking in each other's eyes, you unbuttoned your shirt, fingers trembling in anticipation. He took this as his cue to pull off his own, and you admired his strong muscles, littered with scars. You could feel his eyes roam your body as you undid the last button, leaving you in a simple bra and pants. His hands, hands that could throw buildings and fight villains, were gentle against your skin, slowly running over your belly to the edge of your bra. When you didn’t protest, he tugged at the clasps, letting it fall off your shoulders to the floor.

He pressed hungry kisses to your shoulder, slowly working his way down. His touches were gentle, as if you would break if he wasn’t careful and his mind raced, wanting to explore every inch of you. A soft moan escaped your lips as he nipped at your neck. Enji’s body tensed, and his grip tightened as he kissed lower, desperate to hear more of your sweet noises. 

His pants were painfully tight now, and you seemed to understand, because he could feel your small fingers working the latch on his belt, tugging his slacks down and exposing the tent in his boxers. He let out a low groan as your fingers wrapped around his clothed cock. Enji was a lot bigger than anyone in general, though he never really thought about it until now, when your hand was struggling to wrap completely around his thick member. 

 Maneuvering his hands from your hips, he cupped your breasts, pressing aching kisses to them. He sucked bruises into your skin, and bit back a groan as your fingers found their way under his waistband. Enji wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up, and you nodded to the general area of the bedroom. Nudging the door open, he gently rested you on the bed. Sliding your pants over your hips, leaving you exposed, a thin pair of black panties being the only barrier between the redhead and your sex.

His hands gripped your things, parting you open and he placed a soft kiss on your belly. He worked his way lower, hooking his fingers under your waistband and dragging the material over your curves before tossing it off the bed. Tracing over your soft mound with his finger, he pushed open the lips of your cunt. Like a man starved, he buried his face in your pussy, his tongue devouring your slick.

Your hands gripped his red hair and he groaned into you. Pulling your legs over his shoulders, he fucked you on his tongue, before sucking your throbbing clit between his lips. Eyes rolling back, your breathy moans filled the apartment. You felt yourself climbing higher and higher, so close to euphoria as you grinded on his face.

“Fuck...delicious.” He growled into your cunt. His fingers gripped your thighs, almost painfully and the vibrations of his voice pushed you over the edge. Your thighs squeezed around his head and your back arched off the soft bed as you cried out his name. He continued his assault on your cunt, slurping down your juices as your fingers tugged his locks, gasping at the overstimulation. Still, Enji continued to drown himself in you, your sweet taste like nectar of the gods. He wanted so much more of you, to stay here for hours, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense as you came again, your body trembling from the impact.

Pulling away, he kissed your lips, the taste of you on his tongue. Your tongues entwined, as your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the muscles of his upper back flex. Too soon and yet not fast enough he broke away, positioning himself between your legs, his massive frame towering over you. His hands rested on the bed on opposite sides of your face as he looked down at your body. Your lips were puffy from his kiss, parted slightly. Your eyes were glassy, half-lidded and hungry for more. You met his gaze and inhaled, giving him the slightest nod. He lined his cock up with your entrance, gently pushing the head in. You gasped at the stretch, and after a moment rocked your hips, spurring him to continue. Easing his cock in, he gritted his teeth at how tight your cunt wrapped around him. His hands moved to your hips as he pulled himself out of you, leaving the tip in before thrusting back into you.

Gripping your hips, he bounced you on his cock easily. Moans fell from your mouth, stuttering each time he bottomed out in you. One hand left your hip and gripped the headboard as his heavy balls smacked against your ass. Enji groaned as your legs wrapped around his waist, forcing him deeper. The headboard creaked under his force as he pounded into you, your moans of his name spurring him on, making him want to give you all of him. Your small hand ran over his chest, the dark hair soft under your fingers as you dug your nails in his skin. You felt overwhelmingly full, his thick cock filling every crevice inside you.

Enji’s fiery eyes roamed  your body, watching as your breasts bounced with each thrust. He could practically see the bulge in your belly from his cock and as lewd as the scene was, there was something so beautiful about you in the throes of passion. His name dripped from your lips like a mantra and he could feel the desire, the want that you carried, begging him to give you everything he had. Your fingers danced across his muscles, a touch so intimate. A touch he hadn’t felt in years.

With a crack, the wooden headboard began to splinter as Enji unloaded into you with a shout. Your body felt heavy as he shot white ropes of cum deep inside you, some spilling out around his cock and onto your sheets. With a final groan, he stilled, slowly sliding his softening cock out of you and collapsing next to you on the bed.

It was silent, except for the sounds of both of you breathing hard, your chests rising and falling in tandem. Enji could hear his heart thumping wildly and he turned to look at you. Your eyes were closed, breathing labored but slow and you sleepily turned towards him, laying your head on his massive bicep. 

The next morning, he was gone. The only evidence that the night had even happened was the crack that ran across your headboard and the glass of water on your night stand. Enji avoided you during hero meetings, always somehow on a busy patrol when you called, his assistant taking your message, yet again until you gave up trying.

When the months-long mission was offered to you, you accepted it without hesitation. Enji didn’t attempt to say goodbye.

-----

Now, Enji was torn. 

There was no getting out of this. He thought about reaching out to Eraserhead to ask about working alone, though he knew the sleepy hero would ask questions he didn’t want to get into. Enji furrowed his brow as he swung again at the punching bag in front of him, taken to training in his private outdoor home gym rather than the regular hero gyms to avoid you, though you hadn’t made any more attempts to speak to him.

He jabbed at the bag. This was ridiculous. He was a pro-hero. Allowing this to interfere with his work made him weak, and Endeavor was not weak. 

He wasn’t weak.

Enji threw a few more punches, shaking the sweat off as he reached for the bottle of water behind him. 

“Enji.”

He stiffened.

“Enji Todoroki, I don’t know why you are ignoring me or what I did to you, but we need to talk about what happened.” Your voice was clear, stronger than it was the day of the meeting.

He took a swig from his water bottle, biding his time. Finally turning around, he faced you. You were in a simple t-shirt and track pants, probably coming from a workout yourself. Your eyes were ablaze, demanding to get answers. Enji felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he compared the image of you now, to the image of you from that night.

“I have nothing to say. We will work on this mission, and be civil to each other. That’s all.” Enji attempted to push past you and you turned on your heel.

“You know what? Fine. You want to pretend you didn’t feel anything that night? That meant nothing to you whatsoever? Was it just to hook up, get your dick wet and leave? Because you didn’t need me for that.” Your tone was angry but Enji could hear the hurt in your statements. Facing you, he glared down.

“What do you want from me? To be your boyfriend? I’m not that man. Try Hawks, he’s into that sort of nonsense. I don’t need or want this trouble in my life anymore.” Enji’s voice was hard, the tone he used for villains or the press. You searched his face, seeking the man from that night. Enji, not Endeavor.

You thought over his words. “Enji...what are you so afraid of?”

The tone of your voice shifted. Softer, easier. He remembered how he felt when you begged for him, when you showed your desire for him through each touch and kiss. He finally looked into your eyes, eyes so full of earnest curiosity. Why couldn’t you just make this easy? He swallowed hard.

Fat droplets of water splashed onto his arms, and no sooner did he notice that the sky opened up, sheets of rain pouring over the two of you. Without thinking, he gripped your hand tugging you to the house. Even though it wasn’t a far journey, you were both soaked, and he could see you shivering. Grabbing a towel from the linen closet, he wrapped it around your shoulders. You murmured a thanks, standing awkwardly in his doorway.

He reached for your hand, leading you to the laundry room. Your hands were small in his and he tried to not focus on his heartbeat that pounded in his ears. 

“Wait here.” He grunted, leaving to grab clothes for both of you. He grabbed one of his, then thought better and dug around for anything Fuyumi or Rei may have left. No luck. He sighed, returning to the room where you were sitting on top of the washer.

Thrusting the clothes into your hands, he left to give you some privacy to change as he pulled on his clothes. A few minutes later he heard you giggling. You stepped out, drowning in his way too big shirt. The shirt extended nearly to your knees. The sweatpants he gave you were sliding off your hips and he glimpsed your thighs as you attempted to pull them up. Shrugging, you let them fall to the floor, your legs exposed.

“Sorry, but I don’t think they will stay on. Luckily, your shirt hides everything important.” You said, looking down. Enji mentally disagreed, since any inch of skin he could see would be burned into his brain forever.

Tossing both your clothes into the washer, he set the timer and then it was silent. You spoke first.

“I thought I did something wrong.”

Enji turned to you, Your gaze was fixed on the washing machine, though your eyes looked distant. You continued.

“I thought maybe you thought it was a drunken mistake.”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

You turned. Enji’s cerulean eyes were downcast at the laminate flooring. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

“I’m not good at this. I’m not stupid, I know the rumors about my family that people say. They aren’t all lies. I did fuck it up. I did a lot of bad, terrible things and pushed them away. Rei, and the kids...they didn’t deserve any of the pain I caused them.”

His shoulders sagged, the weight of his past overtaking him. “I did, I do love them. But I understand why they had to leave.” He sat on the small couch in the corner.

Enji felt your hand cover his, your thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“Enji...doing shitty things doesn’t make you a shitty person. You can’t punish yourself forever.” Your voice was soft, soothing. Enji finally met your eyes.

“I’ve already fucked that up. I fucked this up. I don’t want to hurt people I care about anymore. It’s easier this way.”

You wrapped your arms around him. The two of you made quite a sight, the smaller figure cradling the large man. You stood in front of him and he let himself relax into you, his head resting on your chest. He could smell your scent, warm and comforting, even under his shirt. Your fingers grazed his hair, holding him to you. Enji thought of the nights where he lay in bed, allowing himself to imagine your body next to him. 

He was tired of being strong.

“Enji...I can’t say everything will be perfect. But punishing yourself before it starts isn’t going to do anything but cause more pain.”

He could feel your heartbeat, a steady rhythm that matched his breathing. He was aware of his hands around your body, your soft strokes in his hair. He thought about how it would feel to have your touches, hold you in his arms every day, every night.

Enji allowed himself to fall.

He raised his head, his lips meeting yours. With each kiss he silently told you his hopes, his fears, and his apologies. In turn, you gave him comfort and acceptance. He pulled you onto his lap, so you were straddling him, kissing you hard to make up for the months of missed opportunities. 

You kissed for what felt like forever, never wanting to stop. His hands slid down your back and across your thighs, going under your shirt. 

“You look so good in this. Wanna see this more often.” He whispered, a smirk on his face. You giggled and he had the desire to hear all of your beautiful sounds. In time, he reminded himself.

“Enji, are you flirting with me?” You teased and he pulled you close in another kiss. His hands wandered across your soft skin and he could feel the hardened peaks of your nipples through the thin cotton of the shirt. He kissed down your jaw, and your fingers grasped at his hair, causing him to groan into your neck.

“You tease me so much, Y/N.” He growled out as you grinded on his lap. You could feel his cock stir through his joggers, and you felt yourself growing wetter on his lap. He pulled your shirt up to your waist, exposing your thin panties to him. He could feel your arousal through the fabric and ran his thumb down the dark spot over your cunt. You let out a soft whimper and his eyes blazed with hunger.

 Pulling your shirt above your tits, he took one in his mouth, sucking harshly. He grazed your nipple with his teeth, causing your back to arch. He switched sides, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Your hips rocked against his bulge, more prominent now and he pulled away from your chest.

“I want you Enji.” Your voice was soft and seductive, and Enji felt your words go straight to his cock. Picking you up, he carried you to his room. The lights were dim and you didn’t have time to look around before he dropped you on the bed, pushing your legs apart and lapping at your cunt through your drenched panties.

“Already so excited, sweet girl. Taste so good for me.” Enji murmured into your pussy, pressing kisses and bites to your thighs. You whined, attempting to push down your panties and he laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. 

“So eager, aren’t you?” 

You pouted at him. “It’s been too long and I’ve missed you so much.”

Enji was grateful for the dark room hiding the blush that spread across his face. He busied himself by dragging your panties down at an agonizingly slow pace, taking the time to admire your legs, his fingers skimming the skin causing shivers to go down your spine. Enji turned to take in the scene. Your body, draped across the sheets, mouth parted, eyes full of want staring up at him, silently begging for him. He had pictured this many times, many sleepless nights, but the reality was so much better.

“So beautiful.”  HIs voice was quiet, and his heart thumped wildly. He was nervous, even though he had already been with you once before. This time felt so raw, so much more real. He wanted to be with you in every way he could, in any way you would let him and he could tell you wanted the same.

As he pulled off his shirt, your hands slid into the waistband of his pants, grazing over the head of his throbbing cock. He groaned as your fingers slid over the sensitive head, smearing precum down the shaft. You pushed down the rest of his clothes and he kneeled between your legs. Both of you were quiet, and you could feel the excitement in the air of doing this, being with each other completely. It was vulnerable, it was scary, but he trusted you to be there when he fell. And in turn, you trusted him to be yours.

Pushing into you, your breath hitched. He felt your body clamp down on him, and he slowed, easing his way in. Your nails dug into the skin of his biceps and you gasped as he bottomed out in you.

Pressing his forehead to yours, he searched your eyes for discomfort. Instead you gazed at him with complete adoration, bright eyes completely infatuated.

“You’re perfect, Enji.” Your voice was quiet and breathy, but clear. In response he pressed a harsh kiss to your mouth, trying to explain every emotion he felt, words he couldn’t say just yet. As you kissed, he rocked into you, his thick cock dragging against your walls. Your soft moans were swallowed by his kisses, and the stinging marks left on his arms only drove him crazier. He fucked into you faster, feeling your tight cunt squeezing around him, wanting so badly to stay inside you forever.

Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and the room was filled with your sweet sounds, interspersed with his praises.

“Taking me so well. Such a good girl. Fuck, so beautiful.” Enji gasped out, his high imminent. Each thrust had you seeing stars and you felt like your body was floating. Moving his hands from the sheets, he slid over your clit, teasing your body. You clenched around him.

“Fuck, right there,don’t stop!” You gasped out, grasping at the bedsheets, your back arching off to meet his thrusts. Enji complied, his rhythm speeding up as he toyed with your clit and you cried out, your body squeezing his cock like a vice. You gushed around his cock, and he fucked into you faster, feeling his body heat up. With a groan he slammed into you, holding you down as he spilled into you. His hips stuttered as he filled you with every drop, and soon the room was filled with panting as both of you struggled to catch your breath.

Easing out of you, he grabbed a towel, cleaning you up before collapsing next to you. You were both quiet and you were reminded of the time before. Nervous, you turned to him and made eye contact.

“Are you staying this time?” Your voice was small and Enji saw your fingers threading the sheets, nervously.

“It’s my house.” He responded seriously. Caught off guard, you burst into laughter. He watched you amused. You looked gorgeous and he would never get used to the sound of your laughter filling the house that had been quiet for too long.

Catching your breath, you turned back to him.

“What I mean is...do you want to do this? Together?”

Enji looked at the bed that was no longer empty, felt the life and warmth that filled the house, exuding from you just being there and entwined his hand with yours.

“Yes.”

[hotwings0203]

Meeee. I want a longer version of the voyeur deku and bully kacchan. but in kacchan's pov tho. 💜💜💜👀

My dear anon. You ask and so you shall receive 💓

Pt.1, Pt.2

Tw: implied gangbang, stalking, implied noncon

If there’s one thing Katsuki Bakugo hated more than Deku, it was you.

No, actually, scratch that.

He couldn’t stand you around Deku.

As his childhood friend-or rival, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, Bakugo knew Deku like the back of his hand.

He knew how he liked his breakfast, eggs runny with cheese and pepper sprinkled in the middle. He knew how crazy he could be as a fanboy for All Might, collecting over 500 antiques of the hero. He knew how he liked spring better because then he could stand under the Sakura trees and close his eyes in bliss while the petals floated softly down on his face.

He knew how he liked to steal your panties and jerk off to them.

He knew that his favorite position to watch him rape you from the front so that he could see every expression while you were filled to the brim with cum.

How the fuck could you be so blind?

Did you not notice the way your undergarments slowly started to vanish, one by one? Did you not realize who’s handwriting it was when you found yet another threatening yet lewd note in your locker? You had to actually be brain dead to not catch on to how he was always the last person out, just to trail behind and watch how your ass swayed when you walked out of the classroom.

But no, apparently you were even more stupid than he thought.

Because instead of correctly matching a face to actions, you thought him, Bakugo fucking Katsuki was the one doing all of this.

He supposed he couldn’t actually hold it against you though. I mean, he was the one slipping a hand up your shirt when you were walking out said door, he was the one who was shoving you against the lockers right when you were about to unlock it and find the notes, and he was the one who tore your panties in two, dangling them in front of your face while you pleaded for him to give it back. He never did, of course, he simply threw them over his shoulder and proceeded dragging you away so he could fuck you in privacy.

But he guesses there wasn’t much privacy if he was being watched all the time.

It was actually pretty typical of Deku. To leech off of what he left behind and try to claim it as his own. First his All Might obsession, then his shoot style, and now you? It’s pathetic, but typical.

He should’ve realized it wasn’t the shadows moving in the corner of his eyes when he was buried to the hilt inside your warmth. When the hairs stood at the back of your neck in the showers, it wasn’t because he was fucking you dumb, it was because someone else’s moans were in synch with his.

But it’s okay, because he knows and you don’t. He knows how the dweeb looks at you, how he sports a tent in his pants when you innocently lay a hand on his shoulder, he knows why your window is broken even though you fell asleep with it intact.

He catches Deku one day. He catches him red handed like the little rat he is.

It was so easy, too, the green haired little shit follows him around like some lovesick puppy anyways. Sometimes he can’t tell if he’s following you or himself.

You walk home from your night classes one evening, when the night is darker than your own shadows and the stars barely dust across the sky. No one else is around, and so you clutch your bag a little more tightly against you whenever you hear a leaf or a start car rustle in the trees surrounding your path back to the dorms.

Bakugo knows your schedule, of course. You take English and Statistics in the morning and save Quirk Training for the evening when you’re the most tired-a stupid plan, in his opinion.

Or at least he thought, at first. Turns out that you’re the easiest to follow when you’re spent and covered in bruises from being thrown against rocks and burned by fire from class. He wishes he could’ve seen you in person when that all happens, but it doesn’t matter when you’re stumbling down the cobblestone path towards your dorm, deaf and blind to any person that might be right behind you.

You just want to go home, he can accept that. Especially when he can so easily trail after you, merely 20 feet away on the same path as you. No one would suspect he’s up to no good from the leisurely way he strolls with his hands in his pockets, and he would bet his entire life that you wouldn’t waste a second to turn around and check your surrounding in favor of hurrying up to your room so you can sleep the aches away.

He might be subtle, but Deku isn’t.

The fucker hides in the bushes and almost crawls like a bug in the foliage after his two favorite people. It’s not even a clever disguise because his hair is three shades lighter than the leaves on the thickets.

Bakugo can hear the twigs snap and rustle as he bumbles around trying to be inconspicuous. He rolls his eyes and turns around, a deep scowl on his face.

“You’re not fooling anyone you bastard. Get the fuck out here right now before I blast you away.”

It doesn’t even take a full three seconds before Deku’s head meekly pops up and he gives a weak smile.

“H-hey Kacchan. Nice to see you here, I just dropped my papers-“

“No you didn’t. How long have you been following us?”

Deku blanches and slowly lifts his eyes to meet Bakugo’s. His mouth might’ve tried to open and refute the accusation, but when he saw the subtle smirk in the latters eye he found himself caring less about being caught.

“Howd you know?”

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” He scoffs and takes a quick glance back at you to ensure that you hadn’t walked too far off. You were still slowly trudging away, an easy distance for him to cross. “You’re about as stealthy as my quirk you freak.”

Deku laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head, also trying to quickly turn his head to see where you are.

“You likin’ the show so far?”

“Huh?” The green haired boy snaps his head back to him, blushing furiously now.

“You heard me. And don’t pretend to be so scandalized, you’re not holier than thou.”

The low voice to an almost predatory tone makes Deku drop the act. He straightens up a bit taller and his eyelids lower, his brows raised in a mocking sneer of some sorts. His lips curl and his teeth gleam in the moonlight, almost looking like fangs.

Bakugo has to remind himself for a moment not to back up a step.

“Yeah, I’m likin’ it.”

“I knew it. I bet you watched us every time we fucked, you bastard. Next time I’ll make you pay for front row seats since that’s where you always seem to be.” He crosses his arms and stares Deku down.

But the other doesn’t cower. Instead, his expression morphs into that of a weird hopeful look.

“I wouldn’t exactly say fucked is the right word. I’d say raped is better, Kacchan.”

It’s the utter confidence and ease in which he says this that makes Bakugo do a double take, his scowl breaking for a moment.

But he regroups. He knew this little shit was weird and fucked up, but he didn’t realize he was twisted beyond repair. In reality, he knew he was actually having sex with you without your full consent but hearing it from a guy like Deku made it so much worse.

It made his heart pound a little faster, while it made Dekus mouth water.

“Yeah? You liked watching me motorboat and fuck her tits? You liked hearing her scream for me, scream to get away from me too?”

And even in the shadows from the trees he can see how hard the degenerate nods his head eagerly like a dog waiting for its bone.

Even though he doesn’t like how the glint in his eyes darken with each vile word coming from his own mouth, he can’t help but go further down this rabbit hole and see how much Deku can take before he snaps-he’s never seen him so hungry for something before, except for when he would be around All Might.

So he eggs him on.

“I bet you got off on watching her struggle underneath me, didn’t you?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement to which Deku confirms.

“I did. I got off so many times I thought I’d have to get it checked out. But honestly, I think you could do better.”

Katsuki wasnt expecting that response.

“Who the fuck are you to-“

“Have you ever really savored the look of fear in her eyes? Have you ever tied her up and really played with her?”

His voice gets stuck in his throat as Deku continues.

“She’s pretty when you fill her up, but I can’t help but wonder..what would she look like with every hole plugged?”

He has no right looking so shy and nervous when such filth leaves his salivating lips. A drop of spit falls to the cobblestone and as Bakugo grimaces and steps back a bit, he realizes that he has not given his childhood rival as much credit for being a creep than he actually is.

“No fucking way. You better not be suggesting you get in on any of this action. She’s fuckin’ mine and I’ll be damned if I have to share her with some useless fuck like you.”

“I promise I won’t be useless, Kacchan. I’ll make sure to keep her moving at all times. She won’t stop bouncing when I’m with her, please, please let me give it a try too.”

And when he doesn’t look convinced, Deku rambles on like a madman. “I’ll even gag her with her own bloodstained panties so that she can shut up and I can focus better. I won’t ask you for her pussy either, I’ll take her ass or throat instead if you want!”

Katsuki wishes he didn’t hear the childhood boyish eager in his voice as he spoke.

He also wishes his dick didn’t get quite so hard when all of that was said.

“God, just shut up already, she’s getting farther now. Okay look, I’ll let you give it a go this one time only so that I can fuck her in peace without you staring at my ass the entire time.”

Dekus eyes light up and he lifts a leg over to step over the hedges. “Really, you mean it? I can fuck her too?”

Bakugo snarls and turns away, heading towards the same path you took. “Whatever, just don’t think this is gonna be a regular kind of thing. I worked hard to get myself a toy and I’ll be damned if you fuck it up for me.”

And when they both join the other towards you, there’s a moment when you glance back that you think the shadow that has been following you this whole time has turned into two.

[tsunderedoctor]

Hi, I have a request if it’s ok with you.

So a month ago my dad died (I already sent you a request about that), and in the meantime I’ve lost my cat who was one of my best friends and one of my dogs, who was just so sweet, protecting and loving.

Today my grandpa died too, I was in class when I found out and I’m feeling strange. I feel bad for saying this but I wished he would pass away since the life he was living was horrible. We weren’t that close cause he was the quiet type and in his last years of life (since I was about 15 or so) he got diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and this last month he was a wreck. He would forget everything in about 1 minute and he was having difficulty walking. We were cleaning up after him since he would forget where the toilet is and we would clean him and change his clothes (extremely dirty clothes since he would wet himself). We also fed him cause he couldn’t anymore and my mom had to do things by herself for 2 weeks cause I started college. Now it’s just me, mom, grandma and our other dog (my uncles and aunts live far away) and I’m just left with the fear that I’m gonna be left alone in this world (it doesn’t help that my biggest fear is to be alone either).

So I was wondering if I could request Law, Sanji and Killer with an F s/o who goes trough this.

Hope I didn’t made you uncomfortable and you can take your time writing this request if you feel like doing so. I don’t want you to feel pressured about this. Thank you and I hope you’re having a great day/night ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

You didn't make me uncomfortable at all, love!! I am truly sorry for your loss, my heart aches for you. I know words don't take the pain away, but know I wish I could. All I can say is, the pain won't ever go away, but it does get bearable! I love you!❤️❤️

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Law understands completely about the overwhelming fears of being alone. He was a few times stranded on his own, his heart hardening as the time passed. However, he was able to meet his crew and allies, and you. These little moments in life gave the brunet hope that things aren’t always as bad as it may be.

When you expressed your fears of being alone, he listened intently, truly knowing what that pain is like after losing loved ones. Trying his best to be as comforting as he can, his tattooed hand held yours close, grey eyes staring at your own that said he meant what he said.

“I won’t leave you, none of the crew will, we are a family and will stick together no matter what.”

Nodding at his words, you know the man was one who kept his word, he wouldn’t say something like this so lightly, he and the others really were your family now just as you were theirs. Finding your body moving on it’s own, you hugged the man as his body stiffened first, but slowly wrapped around your own frame.

“I promise, you’ll never be alone again.”

"Massacre Soldier" Killer

Killer is similar to Law in understanding loneliness, he might not have suffered a tragedy like Law, but pain is pain no matter what. Due to his laugh, he was rejected a lot and didn’t fit in, it wasn’t until he met Kid that he finally belonged somewhere. 

He does struggle with understanding blood family ties since he doesn’t have strong ones, but your family seemed accepting of him, so your loss is also his loss and he feels your pain. He’s a loyal man, so he will stay by your side while you process these new pains.

“Things happen, sometimes for no reasons, but they aren’t completely gone, they still live inside you, as long as you remember them, they’re alive.”

Feeling your eyes water, you quickly wiped the tears as they fell, smiling the best that you could at the pasta lover. “You’re right, they are still with us, let’s keep their memories strong.”

Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji struggles with being alone from family rejection, he understands not all families are like his and some are close, and despite how cruel his family was to him, he would be heartbroken if they died also. So, he gets it, he really does. The Straw Hat Crew became a new true family to him, and you helped form that bond on your own. 

When you expressed the ongoing fears you have after receiving the news, he feels his heart tighten, remembering his own fears. Grabbing your shoulder, he was quick to pull you close, holding you for a long period before speaking.

“If the day comes when you feel completely alone, then that’s the day I’m gone to, I’ll never leave your side, you helped me become a better person. Let’s make a promise, Y/N-swan, let’s promise to stay together forever.”

Holding out his pinky for you, you both made the promise, pinkies intertwined, finally breaking off from one another as he embraced you in a hug. 

“It’s a promise I swear to you I’ll keep.”

[princeescaluswords]

can I ask for 2 and 3 for Scott and Stiles respectively?

This delightful anonymous request refers to an ask game about the head canons I have for my favorite show. I wanted to mention this at the beginning of the post because both of my answers will address post-canon of the television show, but they will no doubt be completely contradicted by the movie that's being made as we speak.

I also wanted to talk about how these head canons arose. As much as I love the show, and as much as I understand that no show can portray all the moments in a relationship, the production made certain choices and I think those choices lead to certain ends. If the production wanted me to think that these conclusions weren't possible, they should have included different scenes.

What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?

I believe that Scott and Melissa's relationship withered after the end of the television series. Everyone in the audience loved Melissa's 'pep talks' except, in the end, they weren't really pep talks in the sense of emotional support without an agenda. They were either instructional lectures or exhortations to self-sacrifice. Those aren't bad things in themselves, don't get me wrong, but they were never coupled with any focus by Melissa on Scott's intrinsic self-worth.

Think about it. Every single speech from "Be Your Own Anchor" to "You Can Save People's Lives But You Can't Save Them From Life" to "I Wish I Could Be The Type of Mother" to the horrifically egregious "Don't Run, You Fight." Every single one of these scenes in which Melissa helps Scott, she also puts an expectations on him: control yourself, know your limitations, think clearly, sacrifice yourself for everyone else.

And there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, it's quite admirable for her to recognize her son's strengths and promote them, but when the show couples that with Melissa's own behavior, to me, it's a recipe for a strained relationship in the future. When Melissa expresses her own desires, when she stands up for what she thinks is right, it never seems to include doing things for Scott specifically. When she's complaining to Noshiko in the car in Time of Death (4x08), she says "Why are we doing this? Why are we asking them to fight these kinds of fights?" or when she's scolding the Sheriff in Ouroboros (5x08) she only says 'our kids.' It seems the writers made sure that Melissa never lets Scott's name come out of her mouth unless she's scolding him. After all, Melissa leaves Scott at home to go take care of Stiles in The Last Chimera (5x11) when Scott is bleeding from a hole the size of a softball in his chest. Melissa takes actions against Peter Hale in Heartless (6x07) not because of the multiple violations and mutilations he's done to her son but to force him to help his daughter and in retaliation for Peter making a pass at her. Melissa's desires are never specifically about protecting her son.

Again, there's nothing inherently wrong with Melissa putting other people first, but when you compare it with Sheriff Noah "Where The Hell is My Son" Stilinski or Natalie "We're Going to Get You the Best Medical Care" Martin or Noshiko "I Will Do Anything to Save My Daughter Even Give Her Up" Yukimura or Ken "False Confession to Murder" Yukimura or even Dr. "Go Home" Geyer, it's a very distinct and notable difference. And then there's Melissa's fully realized relationship with Chris "Ever Seen A Rabid Dog?" Argent and the fact that his Season 1 & 2 behavior is NEVER addressed between them. Melissa's just fine with that.

Look, there's only so many times that someone can watch their mother put everyone else first and listen to their mother tell them that they have to put everyone else first, too, before they might begin to think that maybe she values him less than everyone else, especially when he remembers the immediate aftermath of Fury (2x10) and the first words she says to him are "I don't know what you are."

Actions have consequences, even when those actions are heroic. Scott will always respect his mother, but I think he will eventually stop looking to her for emotional support and eventually even love. It's a sad head canon, but I have to work with what I saw on the screen.

What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

On the other hand, I think that the relationship between Stiles and Noah will end as well, but it won't wither. The relationship between these two will eventually suffer a catastrophic breakdown that will estrange them, perhaps forever.

Both of them hold dangerously toxic ideas about devotion that cannot possible survive Stiles's transition into full adulthood. Stiles, for his part, is never disabused of the notion that love equals possession. Even from Virginia or wherever he ends up settling, he will still try to control his father's life and equate his father's refusal to be controlled as rejection until the point when he suddenly can't take it anymore. He will demand his father's submission, demand acknowledgement that Stiles love for his father means that any action he takes is for Noah's own good, and he will issue an ultimatum.

Noah, in a desperation not to be Elias, will tolerate and compensate and cover for his son until he just can't anymore, and he will lack any means to approach it differently. When Stiles makes this final demand, Noah will react emotionally (as we see him do repeatedly in the show) and the whole situation will explode. Only this time, they're not living in the same house and probably not even living in the same state. After the explosive fight, they will both try to ignore the problem until it goes away, and days will become weeks and weeks will become months and then months will become years, and suddenly Noah and Stiles will be a father and son that see each other once a year at Christmas.

These are my head canons, of course, but I believe in them because while these are normal problems parents and children have, these particular conflicts will be exacerbated by persistent and continuing trauma associated with the supernatural, which none of them can escape.

I'm sure they'll be refuted by the movie, because Jeff clings to the very Hollywood idea that love alone is enough to keep people together in the light of terrible things happening, no matter how that love is poorly expressed. And I know that the parent-child relationships was one of the big draws of the show, but the stresses growing up puts on these relationships weren't just neglected by the show, but capitalized by it. Yet, all the cathartic moments we got won't fix things without the hard work that comes after.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Mi Viejito (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Words: 1K Warning: None Summary: Father’s Day more than twenty years later. 

Author’s Note: “Mi Viejito” means “Old Man” (affectionate). Thank you to the two anons who requested this!

Also, no editing. Oops. We die like men. 

Twenty five years are not enough to dull the impact of startling blue eyes meeting hers across a room. For a moment, she feels like that fresh-faced intern she used to be, meeting her medical idol for the first time. Except now, Ethan Ramsey has the elegance of time on his side, carved into every fine line on his handsome face. His hair, once dark brown, is a storm of silver now, making the blue of his eyes even more of a shock.

A pleasant sort of shock that makes her body thrum with warmth.

Ethan removes his spectacles and gives her a tired but breathtaking smile. Lilac returns it, moving to settle into her husband's embrace.

“Happy Father's Day, mi viejito,” she murmurs into a kiss. After his hum of thanks, they melt into the kiss, enjoying the rare few moments of blissful companionship.

“Where are the girls?” he asks after a while, as though reading her mind.

“Andy should be here any moment to drop them off.”

“Ah, the calm before the storm,” he muses with exaggerated dread. It doesn't fool anyone, least of all Lilac. Anyone who glances at Ethan Ramsey with his children for more than two seconds knows just how much he adores them. “What about Lori and Jonah?”

“Jonah hasn't texted me back and Lori is on her date.”

“Hrm.”

Lilac laughs. “Hunter's a nice kid. He's taking her on a boat ride at the Common.”

Ethan is not impressed.

“It's a cute date for two seventeen year-olds,” Lilac reasons with little success.

“Pitiful.”

“You took me on one of those when we were engaged.”

“I meant his name. What kind of name is Hunter?”

She laughs at that and places a kiss on his cheek, succeeding in softening his expression by a fraction. “You're just upset your little girl is all grown up.”

Ethan's expression is as impassive as ever but Lilac can see the brief flash of sadness in his eyes. She places a comforting hand at his cheek, sweeping the ridge of his cheekbone with her thumb.

“She'll be back in time for dinner. And I'm sure Jonah will text me back later. He's been swamped with school work these past few days.”

Ethan nods but is unable to elaborate an answer because the sound of approaching voices grows louder outside the door.

The youngest Ramseys arrive then, three times more boisterous than any teenagers their age. Though, to the surprise of exactly no one, the person in the little group arguing the loudest is Jasmine. Andy rolls her eyes, unable to contain a smile at the charming young girl trying to talk her way out of whatever trouble she's gotten into.

“Seriously, it's okay. Our dad owns the hospital.”

“He manages it,” her twin, Violet, corrects.

“Same thing,” Jasmine returns dismissively. “He as good as owns it if the place falls apart without him.”

“That,” Ethan intervenes, placing a kiss of greeting atop each of their heads, “would be your mother. She does the brunt of the work around here.”

Jasmine scoffs. “And yet the man gets all the credit.”

“Typical,” Violet adds.

Ethan and Lilac both laugh proudly. After Andy takes her leave for the day, the girls hug their father.

“Happy Father's day!” They chorus.

“We brought you coffee from that place you and mom are obsessed with.”

They thrust a to-go cup in his hand.

“We remembered,” Jasmine says importantly. “Not like Tweedle dee and Tweedle Ugly.”

“Jazzie,” her mother scolds. “Don't call your brother and sister that.”

“Ingrates,” Violet adds, agreeing with her sister. “Write them out of your will, Dad.”

Ethan is fully laughing now, a sound that is rare and wonderful, easily drawn out of him by his family. The little crevices on his face grow deeper with his mirth and it tugs at Lilac's heartstrings.

“If we're divvying up Dad's stuff then I call Minnie,” Jasmine proclaims.

“You can have that cat now,” Ethan returns intently. “I don't want anything to do with that thing.”

“I call Jenner the Second,” Violet calls out before her sister can.

They dissolve into an impassioned argument about who loves the dog more. Luckily for all of them, they are interrupted by the sound of more approaching footsteps, followed by even more arguing voices.

“... doesn't have his license yet.”

“What good is a license if he doesn't even have a car.”

“You don't need a car in the city. You can get around in the train.”

“Then why did you text me begging for a ride here?”

“You're such a jerk, J.”

The eldest of their children appear in the office, ceasing all bickering when their eyes fall on the father. Dolores, beautiful and bright faced from the sun, the freckles on her cheeks more vivid as she smiles. Jonah, tall, collected, and handsome—reassembling his father more than any of his siblings. Lilac watches fondly as they hug Ethan and wish him a happy father's day. After the brief surprise of their sudden appearance wears off, she can see her husband's eyes shining with emotion.

“We're taking you to lunch,” Lori informs him. “Jonah got us reservations at your favorite place downtown.”

“Nice, that place has the best chocolate cake,” Jasmine says excitedly.

“We said we're taking dad, not you freeloaders,” Jonah returns jokingly, ruffling his younger sister's hair.

“It’s father’s day! We deserve to be celebrated, too!”

“How do you figure that, squirt?”

“Who taught you how to throw a ball, Jonah Naveen Ramsey?” Jasmine demands indignantly.

“Who gave you pointers on how to impress that girl down the street you used to have a crush on?” Violet adds.

“Who Googled 'how to drive a stick shift car' when you borrowed Dad's car without asking him?”

“You what?” Ethan asks, turning to look at his son.

“Who—”

“Alright, alright! You can come with,” Jonah cuts in. “You two are insufferable, I swear.”

“That's no way to speak to your fathers,” Jasmine chastises.

The siblings continue their banter, taking turns predicting what their father will order. The one who knows his order exactly, Lilac observes, is Dolores, though she has no chance to boast to her siblings. Ethan’s pager goes off and he groans when he reads the message.

“There’s a problem with the paperwork in the Sawyer case,” he tells Lilac. With a mournful twist of his mouth, he looks at his children. “I’m sorry but I have to go handle this. Lunch won’t--”

“I’ll stay to take care of it,” Lilac interrupts.

Ethan studies her expression. “Are you sure, love? It’s an awfully complicated case.”

“I’m sure,” she assures him with a nod. “Go enjoy lunch with them.”

Ethan gives her a look so laden with gratitude and affection, her heart skips a beat.

“Geez, you were right, Dad,” Jasmine says. “Mom really does run this place.”

“Or she just prefers dealing with grumpy patients over hearing your awful jokes, Jazzy,” Dolores comments, side bumping her sister affectionately.

“Mom is a pro at dealing with grumpy, though,” Jonah tells them sagely. “She’s dealt with Dad all these years.”

Ethan laughs at that. “You kids won’t cut your old man a break on father’s day?”

“Nope,” Violet returns cheerfully. “Roasting you is our way of telling you we love you.”

______________________________

Author’s Note: Happy Fathers Day to everyone who celebrates! Thank you so much for reading this!

For reference, Jonah is around 20, Dolores (aka “Lori”) 17 going on 18, and the twins are 14

A few notes:

Though I am super behind on replies to my previous fics, please know I am so thankful to everyone who interacted! Love you guys so much!

I haven’t been able to work on Ch 2 of the OPH3 re-write, but I hope to do so soon. I think I’ve decided to take it easy with that series and see where it takes me!

Same thing with the Pictagram series! Thank you to everyone for your patience!

If you tagged me in your content while I was away, I apologize for the delay. I have it all saved up, ready to enjoy this upcoming week!

Tagging in a reblog!

[badgirlcovenrep]

The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)

Chapter One

(NOTES: the raylla adopts Tiffany fic everyone's been asking for

this is going on AO3 once I get home from my sister's but I wanted to post here first. If you'd rather read it there follow me and I'll post once it's officially in there.

Obs: Tiffany is six in this. Mostly because I wanted to write our witch moms carrying their baby and canonically she's like ten so..... and she's also like severely traumatized. We'll get to the healing soon enough though.

+ Edwin is the best papa. And Scylla has p much already adopted this kid, she just doesn't know it yet.

It's half past six p.m when their train screeches to a halt at the Chippewa station. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, Scylla hadn't realized Yule was well on it's way. It is still mid November, but the station has been prematurely decked in civilian Christmas decorations, and almost every wall and corner twinkles in golden speckles and fake pine.

Tiffany had been dozing in and out of sleep on the bench next to her, holding tight to her stuffed parrot as well as Scylla's coat sleeve with her restless small hands that spasmed in pure energy even as she slept. Since coming back from Nicte's mission, Scylla had been in a frenzy to get everything ready for their trip, and Tiffany had followed her around the (no longer safe) safe house, clinging on to her attention with wide blue eyes. She'd always liked kids. Before everything happened Scylla even used to babysit for dodger families.

It was never a lot of money, but she appreciated the levity and humor kids carried. They had hope Scylla prayed she could one day get back. Hope that could only come from the fleeting innocence of childhood. But even then, Tiffany was special, she still had all those wonderful, bright things, and she carried them in bulk, spilling out of her tiny little hands for anyone to see.

Yet she was also touched by things so horrible Scylla sometimes shuddered awake in the dead of night, when her mind conjured up terrible nightmares of being in her place. Of being squeezed into a tiny cage, fed dog food, strung up on a stage as masked psychopaths snickered and passed around stones bigger than fists. It showed, sometimes, in how every once in a while her expression became somber and reserved. How she stopped mid-sentence, and Scylla could see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.

It reminded her of Raelle - Raelle, who'd sat in her bed just yesterday and snacked on the stupid expensive popcorn her mother had bought - Raelle, who also carried so much darkness behind her strong, steady demeanor - those were the parts of her Scylla couldn't help but want to protect, and as a result, those feelings also extended to Tiffany. Scylla lost a lot of people in her life, and she'd decided the day she found the child's parents that she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Just like she wished someone might have done for her. Because that sort of hidden, desolate pain could just as well transform itself into something entirely awful if exploited the right way.

People around her start getting up from their seats, reaching to the compartments for their luggage, there aren't many of them making their way up North this time of year but they still fill the cart in humming conversations, deciding on what to do next or where to get dinner. Scylla takes this as her cue to skim her fingers through Tiffany's hair, gently nudging her awake, "Hey, T, wake up, we're here."

The little girl sits up, bleary eyed, and yawns, looking around at the commotion, "it's already Christmas?" She asks, catching a glimpse of the boisterous decorations set up outside.

"Not yet, no." Scylla chuckles, getting up from her seat to retrieve their own bags - they had everything the two could think to bring, and yet were still not much. A duffel bag for Scylla and purple backpack for Tiffany, with unicorn stickers and colorful buttons sewn to the front. Scylla had retrieved it, along with some toys and clothes, from the girl's home, "People just love decorating early."

"Oh." Tiffany quips, as Scylla helps her fit her arms into the straps of her backpack, then takes her hand in a steady grip once they are done, pulling the young girl towards the door to leave the train, "The lights are pretty!" She exclaims happily, blinking in wide eyed wonder.

Outside, November has definitely made itself known, and Scylla is glad they are both warm in their coats as the wind bites her cheeks until they turn a dark blush. She looks around for Edwin, not sure she'll recognize him from the pictures she'd seen Willa scatter around the house, but still willing to try.

For a second, in that moment, she thinks this might not have been a good idea. When Scylla agreed to it, she'd admittedly not been in her full faculties, brain too preoccupied with seeing Raelle again after so long to completely comprehend what she'd been offered.

After everything that happened, she can't help but be a little nervous to meet the father of her ex (?), the same girl she still very much loved. The girl who had run back to her in that dark forest a day before and clung onto her face until all they could breathe was each other.

If she thought too much about it, Scylla could still feel the soft, almost painful impact of her lips as Raelle knocked her off her balance and breathed fire into her chest like molten lava. It'd been so long, she almost forgot the kind of power Raelle had when she kissed. Like she was always on the verge of tasting your very soul. Their whole day back together before was so very delicate and tentative, air fizzling with electricity like the tension of a bow, pulled tight with an arrow ready to shoot.

The time they've been separated her heart was squeezed tight under an elastic band. Whenever she stopped to think, even for a minute, she could feel it taught, so very strained, reaching from the very inside of her ribs. It was there from the very start. The tightness was what propelled her diaphragm into breathing Raelle in that very first night they spent together, even if she knew she shouldn't, and then, it was what kept them orbiting around each other like their very own solar system. Never too far apart. Always wishing to be closer.

When they kissed in the clearing, hairs messy with the wild strumming of the bat just a few feet away, for the first time, she felt like the band released. The invisible string, so very tight, loosening from under her heart to extend around the both of them and wrap them in what Scylla could only describe as exhilarating, shaking relief. The touch of Raelle's cotton gloves, that she never thought she'd feel again - the taste of her lips, like blood and rain droplets and a mouthful of just her.

It left Scylla running on a high since she walked away from Raelle just the day before, in the early hours of the morning.

It's not how she hoped she'd meet Raelle's dad. Deep down, no matter how much she tried not to, Scylla had imagined herself, more than once, coming to the Cession hand in hand with the blonde fixer. In love and together, going home to meet the parents. It's bittersweet to be here with Tiffany instead, and she has to squeeze the young witch's hand slightly to ground herself from the urge to run.

To just take the child's small body in her arms and run- leave the station in lieu of a cheap motel, one with vending machines, where they could hide from the world a little longer.

When the witch looks down, however, Tiffany smiles reassuringly back at her, squeezing her hand slightly in return, and Scylla can't help the wave of affection that washes over her.

"Excuse me? Are you Scylla and Tiffany?" A voice coming from behind wakes them back from the moment, and when they turn, both come face to face with Edwin Collar.

Scylla's sure it's him. If not because he does still look quite a lot like the pictures she's seen, then because the necromancer can definitely see the telltale signs of Raelle written all over his face. It's mostly there in the kind drop of his eyelids, and the way his mouth creates tiny wrinkles of soft skin when he smiles, but it's there, nonetheless.

"Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mr. Collar." Scylla greets, settling down her bag to shake his hand.

"Of course, it's amazing to finally meet you. Raelle talked you up a storm," he declares, chuckling proudly, "only good things, I assure."

"Oh, I'm sure I don't deserve that." She let's out, hoping it sounded more playful than it feels for her.

"Nonsense. You seem like a kind girl." The man decides, with a solemn nod, before turning to Tiffany, "and you- Tiffany, I'm very happy to have you with me this week as well, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together."

"Thank you, Mr. Collar." The small blonde replies, half-hiding herself behind Scylla's pant leg.

"Let's go then. It's getting cold." Edwin finally declares, taking Scylla's bag from the floor without a question. The girl goes to complain, but he cuts her off before she can - "and don't fight me on this. Raelle also never let's me carry her bags, for once I'd love to help."

Scylla still wants to protest. Mostly because she feels that they have already asked so much - and she doesn't quite deserve the kindness - but he seems sincere, so she nods instead, and with the affirmative, all three begin their way to the parking lot.

"Is Raelle your friend?" Tiffany asks innocently, skipping happily over her boots.

"Uh- she- yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Well, you said we were going to a friend's dad's house." Tiffany notes. "Where is Raelle then?"

"About that-" Edwin stops in his step, "did you see her? How is she?" He asks, an uneasy tension settling over his demeanor as he studies Scylla for answers, "they told me she was alive but that was it-"

"She's okay. I saw her yesterday, she was well." The brunette assures, and that seems to send a wave of relief over the man, who breathes deeply before continuing their walk along the various cars.

"Oh, thank goodness." He sighs, "when those people took her I thought- I'm so glad she's okay."

"Yeah. We were all worried." Scylla declares. And this, she can relate to. The way he cares so much for Raelle, it spills into the very movement of his expressions. It's familiar, and it warms her heart. She decides right then that she likes Edwin.

"Did the bad people take Raelle too?" Tiffany questions, frowning in scared surprise as they reach Edwin's old truck.

Scylla sighs, not having revealed much of the mission she'd gone on the day before. She knew it'd be scary for her. Tiffany was still very much traumatized, and rightfully so, after everything she'd been through. But Tiffany was also very smart- and observant. She'd catch up eventually and Scylla feels stupid for not dealing with this before coming.

"Yeah. They tried to hurt her, but me and her other friends didn't let them." The necromancer assures, as she helps the girl into the backseat and clicks in her seatbelt, "she's okay now. We're all safe here."

"Oh- Okay." Tiffany nods, but Scylla can see the doubt shining under her eyes.

Scylla wishes she knew what to say, but words fail her, so she squeezes the girl's hand reassuringly once more, winking in what she hopes is humorous solidarity, before closing the door.

***

Raelle's house is just like she imagines- small, rustic - surrounded by a thick canopy of trees and bushes. It reminds her of the places she used to stay with her parents, scattered over random cities all over the U.S. Scylla likes it.

"It isn't much, but we always have warm dinner and pancakes in the morning." Edwin quips, humbly, as he leads the pair of witches to Raelle's room, "you can stay here. Hope it is comfortable."

"This is more than enough, Edwin." Scylla smiles gratefully, "it's too much, really. Thank you for letting us stay."

"Nonsense." He waves his hand with a half embarrassed chuckle, "It's good to have people here again. After Rae and Tally left everything feels a lot quieter." Scylla nods in agreement, as the man turns to leave the room, the two witches inside watching him carefully, "You guys should change and rest a bit- I'll call you for dinner.

Scylla thanks him, and waits until the door clicks behind his back to turn her attention to the luggage that had been settled over a random chair. The room is filled with so much Raelle, she can't help but notice the letters, pictures, memories and song lyrics, glued to every single wall, from a time before Fort Salem, before them.

The blonde used to leave notes on her dorm walls back at Fort Salem. Lots of silly things like "I'll be back after training" or "You fight people in your sleep. It's cute.". Scylla wonders if they are still there or if they've been taken by the army when she was captured. It doesn't matter anymore, the necro realizes, and she shakes her head in an effort to bring her attention back to the room.

"You should put on some pajamas." Scylla says toward Tiffany, who sat, grievously quiet, at Raelle's bed.

She looked thoughtful, in a way regular six year olds don't quite show unless they have to go through way too much. Her small, bright eyes hide barely concealed darkness as she shifts her looks everywhere but at the older witch.

Scylla sighs, finding this place - this relationship - so very painfully familiar. She'd been the scared little girl last time, feeling so very small and alone. And now, as the adult, she was definitely going to try her best not to fuck it. As difficult as it might be. The world didn't need another suffering witch.

After a few minutes of silence, Scylla realizes she was not going to get an answer, so she opens the girl's backpack and fishes out a pair of mermaid themed leggings and t-shirt, along with the small bag that carried her tooth and hair brushes along with some other toiletries. Scylla places the items by Tiffany on the mattress, kneeling in front of the young witch and studying her clear, soft little face.

"Hey. Are you feeling alright?"

"Are the bad men coming here to hurt us?" Tiffany asks, instead of a response, and Scylla frowns in worry.

"No, of course no-"

"They came and took Raelle too." Tiffany notices, tears escaping from her eyelids that Scylla dries up with her thumb, "and they hurt Miss Willa, the other kids' at the office and my mommy and daddy. What if they come here again? What if they really hurt us this time?" As the questions stumble out of her mouth, sobs begin to wreck across her throat until she's shaking, ever so slightly, with the force of her tears and heavy, panicked breathing.

Scylla sighs and rises from the ground to cuddle the girl close to her chest, squeezing tight until she can feel Tiffany's little arms squeeze her back. Scylla's afraid too - most of the time, if she allowed herself to be honest - Ever since watching Raelle leave her in that cell the year before, the girl could feel even more perfectly the path of death and destruction that marked their (the witches') way through the world.

One of the bad things about being a necro - Death didn't like not being known, and it showed itself insistently, to anyone able to notice.

"We don't know whether or not they'll come again." Scylla ends up responding, sincerely, as she squeezes her arms even tighter around the little girl, "but I won't let them hurt you, you hear me? I dealt with them before, I can deal with them again."

"No" Tiffany shakes her head, frowning up at her in teary-eyed fear, "You too. You're safe too. I don't want you to get hurt either."

"Hey." Scylla forces out a chuckle, trying to lighten up the situation for the young witch's sake, "don't be silly, ok? I'm pretty much invincible."

Tiffany doesn't laugh, her breathing having somewhat returned to normal. The girl just stares back at Scylla with a seriousness that's all too unfair, coming from a six year old, and she reaches out, her pinky finger lifted in expectation, "Pinky promise you'll be safe too? Please?"

Scylla knows she shouldn't. The truth is, she doesn't know what will happen. After their plan to capture Nicte was said and done, Scylla barely had any idea what she would be doing now. But Tiffany obviously needs the reassurance, from the way she stares ever so desperately at the necro's face.

"Okay, I pinky promise." Scylla smiles, trying to convey some calm toward the other girl as she let her pinky link with the smaller one. It seems to work, as Tiffany's expression softens and her tense posture falls, "now let's get you under a shower and into some pajamas, ok? You're a very smelly little witch right now."

"Am not!" Tiffany replies, and Scylla can't help but full on laugh this time, pulling the small girl to Raelle's bathroom as she mockingly protests.

Second chapter is almost done, just needs to be read over for mistakes. For C2, Raelle calls home, Scylla meets old dodger friends and she also has an important conversation with Edwin.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wishing you a happy new year, Raven! Can I request fluffy headcanons for Vil, Malleus, Riddle, Sebek, and Silver taking their fem! s/o out on a museum (art or history) date please? Thank you and please stay safe! ~🍁leaf anon

“Art is something I have come to admire over the years. Favored artists and styles come and go as easily as the changing of the seasons. It is fascinating to see the gargoyles that come from every decade...”

Curiouser and Curiouser...

It’s easy to spot Malleus in a crowd thanks to his horns, staggering height, and overwhelming presence. When you arrive at the designated meet-up spot, Malleus gently takes you by the hand and leads you off into a lesser known street with hard to navigate twists, turns, and narrow bends. He tugs you inside a building tucked away in a forgotten crevice of town. Malleus calls it his hidden gem--hard to locate, but precious... a gargoyle museum!

Gargoyles are a pretty niche interest, so the museum’s business is slow. In fact, you and Malleus are the only two there--but that’s fine, it just means you get to enjoy some well-deserved alone time. You can hold onto his arm and lean into him as he shows you around.

From the way Malleus’s eyes glitter, you can tell that not only is he extremely enthusiastic about gargoyles, but that he is very, very familiar with each and every exhibit. Without even looking at the plaques that accompany each gargoyle, he can tell you the year it came from, the artist, and various other fun facts.

Malleus confesses that he has actually named each gargoyle and assigned them their own personalities. He has come here so many times by himself that he decided to make friends of his own in the statues. Gazing at you tenderly, Malleus declares, “... I am fortunate to have finally found a companion to call my own, and to share this happiness with.”

Poor Riddle--he’s so short and wide eyed that the employee at the museum entrance thinks he’s too young to purchase tickets of his own until he shows his student ID! Starting off the date on a mortifying note definitely was not how he had expected things to go, but Riddle intends to make it up to you by demonstrating how knowledgeable he is!

As expected of an honors student, Riddle knows a lot about Magic History! He’ll take your hand in his and help you trace the route that settlers marched in the air, or lean into your ear to whisper about an old folklore. “It cannot be helped,” Riddle insists, a little red-faced himself. “Given the limitations of the museum... Keep quiet and do not touch... this is the most efficient way to teach.”

Even outside of school, Riddle feels a need to enforce the rules! Whenever you let a gasp out or accidentally speak too loudly, he presses a gentle finger to his lips--or yours--as a reminder to keep your voice down.

Another rule of the museum is “no eating or drinking”! That means you and Riddle just need to grab a bite after your museum tour. Luckily, there’s a cute little crepe shop not too far away--and you grab a strawberry one to share, relishing in the taste, each others’ company, and all the indirect kisses that linger.

Vil shows up to the art museum decked out in massive sunglasses, a face mask, and a muffler--and yet he still somehow manages to pull the look off spectacularly. He doesn’t want to be noticed in public (whether by eager fans asking for a signature or a picture, or by members of the media)--that would ruin your date!

Once you’re inside the museum, you can start enjoying the artwork! However, you find your eyes continuously drifting back to Vil between glimpsing works of art--as though Vil were also one himself, and you are not able to take your attention off of him. He catches your gaze several times and sends dazzling smiles your way, which causes you to just... melt.

Unfortunately for you two, your date is interrupted by a stampede of frantic MagiCam followers who swear to the museum staff that THE Vil Schoenheit is somewhere there. So much for the disguise and keeping a low profile. Vil sighs and hastily tugs you behind a large exhibit to hide and wait for the fans to give up.

But... there’s so little wiggle room in your hiding spot that your bodies are pressed up right against one another. You can feel his heart beating--and surely he feels yours as well. A blush starts to rise to your cheeks, and Vil definitely notices. “Ara, are you embarrassed?” He whispers through a smirk, “You’d best not make a single sound, then. Here, allow me to help you.” And there, behind an art exhibit, Vil silences you with a kiss.

Silver is intrigued by the medieval history museum that you’ve selected for your date. He spends much of it ooh-ing and aah-ing at the various swords and suits of armor on display, just like a kid in a candy shop.

Silver nonchalantly points to various weapons mounted on the walls and tells you a story or two about how his father taught him how to utilize each one (”in case you are without your magical pen”). You almost can’t believe half of the grueling tales that leave his mouth, were Silver’s expression not dead serious.

He seems oddly tense at some of the exhibits you come across--specifically, whenever a particular figure in raven and magenta hair appears in paintings or is references in literature. (They look familiar; have you seen them somewhere?) Silver is quick to shoo you away from anything with the mystery man in it, telling you that “I don’t want to accidentally summon him,” whatever that means.

You spend a lot of time in the museum’s souvenir shop, picking out cute matching lockets to wear--one with a shield design, the other with a sword. Silver helps to fasten yours on, and once it’s in place, he jokingly bows to you and says you look just like royalty.

Sebek is shushed multiple times while inside e museum--it seems that even his normal speaking volume is considered to be too loud! In an effort to not disturb the other museum-goers, Sebek vows to keep his mouth shut the entire time and only communicates to you via hand gestures and facial expressions.

During a historical reenactment scene, Sebek is asked by the museum staff to play the part of a knight on the losing side of a war. He plays the role just fine until the actors actually start coming at him! His training as Malleus’s retainer kicks in, and before you know it, Sebek has completely disarmed the entire troupe or actors without breaking a sweat, or uttering a single word.

He visibly puffs up with pride when you look at the section of the museum dedicated to fairy history. Sebek points and shoots you eager looks whenever he comes across an artifact pertaining to the Witch of Thorns. His zealousness is cute, and reminds you of a hyperactive puppy dog!

Though Sebek can’t use his words, you can tell from his body language that he’s enjoying every single moment with you. His grip on your hand holds strong, and the toothy smile and the blush he wears never once fades.

[dragonsareourfuture]

I Don’t Belong Here — L Lawliet/GN! Reader

Summary: What kind of a story begins with the main character dying? Well, this one. L Lawliet has lived out his days on earth and finds himself in the afterlife. The Good Place, he is told by a neighborhood architect named (Name). One who shows him around his own neighborhood and introduces him to new people. But something doesn’t add up, L notices. Does he really belong in the Good Place?

(I'd advise having knowledge on the TV show "The Good Place" if you wish to understand the majority of this clusterfuck. Although, if you wish to proceed regardless, go right ahead!)

Chapter One: L Lawliet, You Are Dead.

<>

Weclome! Everything Is Fine.

Everything is fine? Is that so?

The last thing L remembers is the ceiling. Just…the ceiling. The fans twirling on the ceiling of the headquarter building and the cross hatching of the tiles. It was peaceful. Was he sleeping? If he had been sleeping, then how did he end up here?

Now, instead of the ceiling, he stares at a wall. Big, green letters stare back at him. “Welcome! Everything Is Fine,” they say. Something inside L is prickling, like something he is forgetting struggling to find its way to his brain. He wants to ponder it, but something about the words splayed out on the wall in front of him is telling him that he doesn’t have to. Everything is fine, after all.

He only manages to tear his eyes away from the bold, sans serif font when the sound of a doorknob turning catches his attention. Huh. Has there always been a door there? If so he hadn’t noticed it, which L thinks is completely absurd as he usually takes mental notes of everything in a room before getting himself seated. But there it is, a door he missed while transfixed on the somehow calming message on the wall, now opening to reveal...a person.

You stand in the doorway, simply smiling.

Now that L’s attention has been drawn away from the mystifying message he can properly analyze his surroundings, and his new visitor. He’s in a rather simple room, nothing but a few plants dotting the perimeter and a couch in the middle, which he is currently sitting on. And he’s sitting normally. Hm. That feels…itchy. L inches a foot onto the couch in his discomfort of sitting with his bottom planted firmly on the cushions with both feet on the ground. Though he hesitates to bring both feet up and hug his knees to his chin as he normally would, because he senses that your sudden presence means he is about to be standing and following you into that mysterious room behind you. Like a doctor calling a patient into an appointment. Except in this case L has no idea what you are, and judging by your suit and comical, colorful bowtie, you are certainly not a doctor.

“L?” you ask, showing your teeth in a kind smile. “Come on in.”

And against his better judgement, he does. L was never the person to simply keep quiet and obey orders in a situation he does not understand. And there certainly is not a whole lot of understanding happening in his brain right now. He should be asking questions. He should be refusing you. He doesn’t know you, you could be leading him to his doom. All this is possible but something about the way you smile at him…like those big, green words, all he reads from you is “Everything Is Fine.”

The room that you lead him into doesn’t look all that much like a death trap, but you can never be sure. It’s a simple office, plants similar to the ones in the waiting room sit in pots in the corners and on the windowsill. The sun shines outside, seeping through the glass and illuminating the desk on the left as you walk in. On it are a few little trinkets, paperweights, and, right in the middle, a manila file folder.

You circle around the desk and settle yourself into the rollaway chair, gesturing to the sleek armchair across from you. “Why don’t you have a seat, hm?”

What is wrong with him right now? You ask him to do something and he just…does? What happened to his spine, other than it bending exponentially thanks to the way he sits?

No matter, there are more important things to think about right now. Like the fact that he might finally be getting some answers.

You open the file in front of you and skim whatever’s written, opening your mouth to say something when your eyes meet his. And then they drift down to his legs. You stare at him curiously with your mouth still agape for a few moments at how his knees are pulled up to his chin, eventually shaking your head and getting back on track.

“My name is (Name), and of course I already know yours.” you say, folding your hands in front of you. “So, how are you, L?”

How should L even answer that?

“I’m…confused, mostly. How are you?”

Your eyes light up, as if you haven’t been asked that in a while. “Oh, well I’m fine. Y’know, busy, but fine! And, yes, I’d assume you’d be confused, everyone in your situation usually is.”

“My situation? What exactly do you mean by that?” Now that L has finally asked one question he can’t seem to stop the ball from rolling “Speaking of you, who are you exactly? Actually, never mind who, but where—“

You hold up a hand. “All of your questions will be answered, I promise. There’s just one thing that you need to know before we tackle any of that.”

“And what is that?”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, elbows digging into the surface of your desk as you lean forward. You look like you’re about to tell him that he’s fired. That his dog died. That some kid took the last of the strawberry shortcake and he’s going to have to settle for carrot cake. What comes out of your mouth is much worse.

“L Lawliet, you are dead.”

…

He’s…?

Yes. Yes, he is. That’s why he doesn’t remember how he got here.

He’s dead. Huh.

L is perfectly content in not saying anything about this new little factoid, but you’re looking at him expectantly, and a little cautiously. Like you either expect him to punch you or burst into tears. L wonders if that fear is based on experience. How many other people have to told this to?

“…Am I, now? That’s a shame.”

You breathe out a sigh, which could be from relief. “Yes, it is. But, not to worry! Because you’ve ended up in the Good Place, L. You’re going to be okay.”

“So it’s called the Good Place?” L brings his thumb to his lips. “A rather simple thing to call it.”

You nod. “Pretty self-explanatory, right? We didn’t want anyone to get confused. There are just so many names for it on earth. Heaven, Valhalla, Nirvana…But it all translates to one place. Here. And you get to be a part of it.”

“That sounds…” Before he can articulate his thoughts, a dilemma from earlier brings itself to the forefront of L’s mind. “Wrong.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My memories are all wrong. Before this, all I can remember is the ceiling and nothing else. If I were to have died, surely I would remember it, yes?”

You take a gulp of air and pull the manila file closer to you. “We take it upon ourselves to erase the memories of death if they are particularly traumatizing or embarrassing. Helps the residents adapt into a peaceful afterlife better, I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, that is perfectly sensible. Although I may ask, what is an example of a death that is not at all traumatizing?”

“Pfft, there hardly is one. You’d be surprised how many memories we have to erase.”

“On the contrary, I am hardly surprised. I’m sure there are plenty of people who cannot accept the nature of their death, let alone the fact that they have died in the first place.”

You sigh, “You’re tellin’ me. Most people come around once I tell them that they’re basically in paradise, but some won’t even listen to me once I break the news. One person tried to convince me I was the dead one! It’s just—oh, um, but that’s hardly the point.”

“Do you ever tell someone how they died if they ask?”

Your expression hardens. “I do, but I like to know that they’re certain before I tell them.”

“I am.”

Exhaling through your nose, you prop the manila folder up like a book, scanning the files inside. “Alright then. Let’s see here…ah, okay. So, unfortunately this one’s pretty traumatizing, it’s not really one of those embarrassing deaths that some people get a kick out of, so brace yourself.” You look over the top of the folder as if checking to see if he’s braced himself. His expression and stance is unwavering, large eyes merely staring back at you patiently. “You were betrayed by your colleague Yagami Light – also known as your adversary Kira – and killed by the Shinigami Rem at his request.”

Oh yeah. That.

The ceiling was not clear in view, no, there was something obstructing L’s view of it. A face, staring down at him as his heart gave out right on the floor. Brown eyes filled with such cocky maliciousness, the upward tilt of lips L only knew to spout lies. It all equated to a side of Yagami Light that L knew existed but had never seen up until his final moments. It all added up to one final conclusion -- Yagami Light was Kira all along. L had been right. But the price of knowing that for certain is that, now, there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I’m..I’m sorry. I never know what to do when I have to tell people…” you try, reaching across the table and planting a hand down in front of him. Not asking to hold his hand, not even expecting a reaction. Just showing that you’re there, and that you’re trying.

“It’s up to them now. I’ve done all that I could. I trust my successors.”

“In catching the murderer Kira, right?” you ask, to which L confirms with a polite utterance of ‘yes’. Obviously you know the answer. “I understand that is one of the many, many cases you’ve worked on during your lifetime.” you scan your eyes quickly down what appears to be a long list in your folder. Do you have every detail of his life in those files? Every case he ever took? Hell, every day in his life? You set the file down flat in front of you and look at him with something L determines is admiration. “You’ve done so much good in your lifetime, L. You’ve worked so hard over the entirety of your life to make sure you left the world a little better than you found it. Now…well, now you can rest.”

You can relax, you tell him. And it seems to simple coming out of your mouth yet somehow it still feels out of reach.

“I can…” Is all L manages to say, his preoccupation coming across as dreamy and wistful. His mind is busy running a mile a minute and his mouth just can’t keep up. L decides to test the words out on his own tongue to see if they still sound foreign, “I can rest now.”

Yeah, no, it still sounds like bullshit.

“Yes! Well, after the tour, of course.”

“Tour?”

You start to stand, straightening your colorful bowtie and circling around your desk to the door which you pull open. You don’t exit right away, though. You stand next to the exit, waiting for L to follow you. While he works on untangling himself from his current position you clarify, “A tour of the neighborhood! Where you’ll spend your afterlife.”