#and you don’t even notice how little most of the characters speak! because every time they open their mouths it’s to deliver a banger line

[wildsaltair]

I think one of my favorite things about Gladiator is how little it relies on dialogue. when the characters speak, it’s to say something genuinely important or insightful. no cheesy dialogues, no unnecessary quips, no forced one-liners. 90% of the exposition in the film is achieved through facial expression, visual aids, and music / direction. there’s a reason it’s considered one of the best films of all time

[i-love-ptv]

Linger ୨ ꩜ ୧

Soft!Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Fem![Implied]Black!Girlfriend!Reader

Based on the prompt: “Hey…Someone messaged you.” “Oh, who’s it from? My password is (…)”

wc: 993

sugary sweet fluff, but also angst cause we’re talking abt Rafe’s past mostly.

black reader is specified because her being Tiana for Halloween is mentioned! :] (ignore it if you like, I just think it’s cute!

An: Made this to get y’all into the fall spirit ;) Guys I fear Rafe is rlly my #1

Another random prompt from Pinterest cause it’s funnnn

Please please PLEASE send fall/halloween reqs! Check my masterlist if you wanna see the characters I write for!

Feedback is always appreciated cuties xx

He’s watching you from a few feet away, his arms are crossed over her chest, and his elbows are resting on the counter he’s leaning on.

Actually, he’s slouching, his lanky legs are stretched out in your pathway, making you have to step over them whenever you have to move.

The sweet scent of pumpkin and cinnamon from your pumpkin muffins fills the air, it reminds Rafe of what fall used to be like, when his mother was still around.

Most people link pumpkins to fall, simply because of their abundance during the cooler months; and Rafe does too, in a way.

When he was younger, he remembers how his mom would take his little sisters, his father, and him to the pumpkin patch every year.

They would all have their respective wheelbarrows, Rafe would end up putting Wheezie’s tiny pumpkin next to his, since she always laid in her mother’s arms.

His mother would make dozens of pumpkin recipes throughout the months of October and November: pumpkin muffins, she made this pumpkin stew that Rafe enjoyed, pumpkin pie, and the list goes on.

It was like a breath of fresh air for Rafe, his family was all together, and everything was normal.

Oh, how he wishes things were normal now.

At this point in his life, Rafe truly only wants simplicity. And you provided that for him.

Which is why, he can’t help but take account of the similarities that you and his mother share.

You both were extremely kind, sometimes a little too kind; though, this doesn’t mean that the two of you weren’t self-assured and confident.

“Ray?”

Rafe’s eyes widened, he hadn’t noticed that you were talking to him. “Hm?”

“I asked if you wanted to try a little bit of this before I put it in the oven.”

You’re looking at him through your doe eyes, like he hung the stars and the moon, and itmakes the boy’s heart practically melt.

“Don’t health experts advise you to not consume raw batter?” Rafe smirks at you.

You pout at this, swiftly turning back around to put the remaining batter in the last muffin cup.

Rafe chuckles and quickly grabs your waist from behind, his head leaning down to your shoulder while he leaves kisses to your cheek.

“No, no! I’ll try it baby, I was just joking with you!”

You giggle at the feeling of his pillow-soft kisses, and you bring your whisk to his lips.

His tongue peaks out slightly, and when he tastes the batter, he hums in delight.

“I switched things up a bit this time, do you think it’s good?” You ask softly.

“It’s the best.” Rafe murmurs, not wanting to speak loudly over your newly made playlist, which is now flowing through your speaker.

He was such a fool for you.

“Okay, okay, now scooch, I need these done so Wheezie and her friends can take them before they go trick-or-treating.”

“Yes ma’am.

As you’re putting your muffins in the oven, you hear a ‘ding’ resonate from behind you.

Rafe looks next to him, seeing your phone light up; the picture of you two together, faces squished against one another looking back at him.

“Hey…Someone messaged you.”

You respond without looking, focused on your task in front of you. “Oh, who’s it from? My password is your birth month and day.”

Rafe feels like his heart is about to pound out of his chest.

He feels as though he shouldn’t be trusted with this. In fact, Rafe doesn’t even know how to feel as of right now.

He’s been with girls before, ones that would leave their phones face down against any and every surface it rested upon.

He remembers having an argument with an ex years ago, simply because he took a glance at her phone when she got a text.

“Stop being so fucking insecure,” is what she had said to him.

It’s so different, hearing you say what you did.

He’s so used to everything being so toxic, borderline hateful.

But you, you make him feel so different. He can’t seem to put his finger on it at the moment, especially while you’re looking over your shoulder at him so sweetly.”

“Rafe? What does it say honey?” You ask expectantly.

He then fumbles when picking up your phone, your cute phone charm that he bought clacking against your phone case.

You were right, your password was March 24th.

His birthday.

He looks at your notification center and sees a text from his sister Sarah.

Sar-Bear 🫀🎀🌍

‘Does this make me look slutty?

Topper says it does, and idk 😕’ (5:28pm)

[1 Attachment]

Your teeth catch you lip before you respond, “awee, that’s so fucking mean. Tell her I said she looks great, and she’s gonna be the best Lottie.”

That’s right, Rafe remembers you and Sarah decided to have matching costumes this year.

You’re going as Tiana, and she’s going as Lottie from The Princess and The Frog.

You came home that day, nearly bouncing in your spot as you told him the plan you came up with for Halloween.

You had begged Rafe to be a frog, you even found a frog onesie on amazon! But, Rafe insisted on just letting you and Sarah match.

Rafe has already decided that next year, he’ll match with you, cause you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

—He just hopes you won't have him wear anything silly.

Rafe sends the text and sets your phone down. He feels giddy inside.

He knows it’s something small, something that most don’t look twice at.

But Rafe feels like a child on Christmas morning.

He feels your arms wrap around his front, and you snuggle your face in his chest; but not before leaving a kiss onto his heart.

Rafe finally realizes what this is for him: this is real.

And this is a breath of fresh air.

��-

Do you have to let it linger?

[soapsbaby]

Silly Spicy Call of Duty headcanons

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x reader Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: All NSFW but very lighthearted, nothing particularly triggering but ask to tag! Word count: 750ish

These are just silly little headcanons about them, PLEASE if you have any like these send them to me i had such a blast writing them lol!!

Ghost

Sometimes his mask slips a little and he looks goofy as hell, you have to do your best to not laugh into his face because you know he won’t let that slide.

Uses British lingo sometimes. Has called your pussy a “fanny” before. Got mad when that made you giggle.

Once got so frustrated with trying to figure out how to operate one of your vibrators that he broke it. Was very apologetic and immediately ordered you another one afterwards.

Soap

He is clumsy as hell. Every time you have tried to fuck in a position that is anywhere near athletic, something goes wrong. It’s a miracle neither of you have broken your necks trying to get it on in the shower. He will always take the fall though, protecting you with everything he has and curling himself around you even if it means he will end up bruised or bleeding.

Makes a lot of typos when sexting, never notices. Called you “baby gorilla” once (you will never let him live that down).

Gets offended when you call him “Soap” in the bedroom. You know my name, what are you calling me that for? Dummy.

König

He doesn’t usually wear his balaclava under his mask when you have sex since it gets too sweaty but since his mask is pretty loose he will sometimes have to pft-ppf-tpftt when it gets stuck in his mouth. Has almost choked on his mask before.

Gets so flustered that he will just start sputtering nonsense. Has on several occasions been so out of it that he has messed up the nicknames you use for each other. “yes show me that I am your little babygirl, wait- no, you are… I am your boy… you’re… Wait, I’m sorry”. Not a gender or kink thing, which would of course be alright with you, just him being a dummy.

Is a bit of a crier and drooler sometimes which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that he will sometimes accidentally waterboard himself in his mask and not tell you.

Gaz

Has called you mommy once and was mortified. Neither of you have really spoken about it but sometimes you will drop little hints around him to get him flustered.

Likes when you suck him off while he is playing video games but then gets too into the game and genuinely can’t help but get annoyed when he loses because you distract him.

Cpt Price

Is oblivious to any signs that you want him. Will go into Dad story telling mode and completely ignore the effect he is having on you until you grab him by the shirt and just tell him to fuck you.

Has a sex playlist called "sensual" with just the most cliché sex songs on it possible. Can unironically have sex to "Careless Whisper" and “Let’s get it on”.

Has given you rug burn with his beard before. 0/10 very unpleasant experience (you’d do it again, though).

Alejandro

Will say things that could be interpreted as sexist in the moment and then immediately get apologetic. Who’s my good slut? I mean… If you want to be. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… Are you okay with that? Okay. Cool.

Will fuck you in uniform because he knows you’re into that and then get distracted by things he finds in his pockets like shopping receipts. 

Doesn’t care whether or not you understand him, he will speak Spanish to you.

Rudy

Gets tormented by you with new pet names every day. mí amor, I don't know what a Zaddy is. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing.

In the beginning of your relationship he was completely oblivious to most kinks. If you ever expressed anything out of the ordinary to you, he’d raise his eyebrows in confusion and say something like “what? why would anyone want that?” but was always open to trying anything. Now he is probably even more of a deviant than you are.

Valeria

Has this roleplay thing going on where you are a traitor to her cause and she discovers it and gets to “punish” you. You find it a little silly but it gets her super riled up so you play along.

Secretly loves to bottom and to be taken care of by you but would never tell you (you know anyway). Thinks she is being very good at hiding it (she is not).

[wakasaswifee]

⇢OBSESSED | Rin itoshi

⇢NSFW

T/W: obsession, nsfw, dubcon, mean rin, stalker rin, obsessed rin, nipple torture, finger play??, a bit of fluff? - don't read if you're uncomfortable with these topics

A/n: mind you, I was half asleep writing this so forgive me for any mistakes. I thought of this while watching black clover 💀 don't ask. Minors don't interact 🙏🏻

Characters: (AGED UP) Rin itoshi x Afab reader

Anime: blue lock

Words: 1k

Obsessed!Rin who has no idea how to act around you. He's so awkward and introverted that he can’t even speak to you without turning a deep shade of red.

Obsessed!Rin who always has his eyes on you, whether you know it or not—even before you two started dating.

Obsessed!Rin who threatens every guy that talks to you because, obviously, no other man should be touching or speaking to what's his. Most importantly, your eyes should only be on him.

Obsessed!Rin who would skip practice just to watch you and see what you do throughout the day. It’s a little creepy, but that’s okay, right? He only wants to keep you safe. So don’t get mad at him.

Obsessed!Rin who isn’t afraid to throw hands with anyone who hurts you. “You ever speak to her with that disgusting attitude again, and next time your ass will be six feet deep.”

Obsessed!Rin who shows up at your house in the middle of the night with busted hands and bleeding lips, just so you can drag him inside and mend his wounds in silence. His eyes stay locked on you as you carefully place cute little bandages over his injuries.

Obsessed!Rin who brushes the hair out of your face while you apply medication to the cuts on his knuckles. “Y'know, you look so pretty like this. You look pretty all the time, but you’re even prettier when your attention is solely on me.” You roll your eyes, but it’s impossible not to blush. How could you not when he’s so sweet to you?

Obsessed!rin who wouldn't be able to help himself but look down your shirt while you're leaning over, to see you're not wearing a bra under your old night shirt

Obsessed!rin who wouldn't even hide the fact he's looking at your hardened nipples through your shirt. He may be a pervert but that's okay, right? As long as you don't mind..

Obsessed!rin who would get hard while you scold him for being so reckless

Obsessed!Rin who would get lost in your eyes while you're getting mad at him and telling him to be better.

Obsessed!Rin who would tell you he hasn't eaten all day just so you can cook something and feed it to him. Oh, the poor baby is hurt, and he can't feed himself. He's just so tired.

Obsessed!Rin who, after finishing his food, would grab you by the wrist and pull you in just to lick any remains off your finger—even though your hands are clearly clean.

Obsessed!Rin who wouldn’t let go of your hand, taking your middle and ring fingers into his mouth and sliding his tongue between them, keeping his eyes on you.

Obsessed!Rin who would notice how tightly your thighs are pressed together as he feasts on your hand.

Obsessed!Rin who would smirk at the thought of you getting turned on and push you so you fall back onto the couch.

Obsessed!rin who would adjust his boner at the sight of you lying back onto the couch, both your arms between your thighs as you kept them close only for his smirk to drop. He'd feel hurt, how could you be so mean, he waited so long for you and you couldn't even be a good girl and keep your legs open for him so he can see your wet panties.

Obsessed!rin who would place his hands on your exposed thighs and gently coo you into opening your legs for him just so you could make room for him in between them. "C'mon, open up for me. I won't hurt you, I promise. I'll be gentle, okay?" Which was clearly all a lie

Obsessed!rin who wouldn't wait a second before attacking your neck. Pinning your arms to the sofa so you couldn't escape. He'd bite and suck and break the smooth skin on your neck and shoulders. He'd leave hickies so everyone can see. He can hear you crying, telling him it hurts but your cries only turn him on even more and it's not his fault you walk around with such perfect skin. untouched and unmarked.

Obsessed!rin who would kiss your cheeks and tell you everything is fine and there's nothing to cry about

Obsessed!rin who would would pinch and bite your nipples over your shirt that it'd be impossible to keep yourself from moaning. "You like that, doll. Feels good, huh? You thought I'd stay calm after how your tits looked so tempting poking through your shirt, just begging for my attention"

Obsessed!rin who would freeze after hearing your angelic moans, only to continue with a devilish grin plastered across his face. Continuing to abuse your poor virgin nipples. He sucked one of them, not so gently and the other one was at the mercy of his larger hands

You'd feel yourself getting more and more aroused but you didn't dare voice it

Obsessed!rin who would slam his lips down onto yours if you got too loud for his liking. Of course he didn't mind your cries and moans but he couldn't have you waking up the neighbours with his name on your tongue. "Shh quiet now, I know it feels good but you're being too loud" he'd softly say, his mouth not even a centimeter away from yours.

Obsessed!rin who would grab your visibly smaller hands than his and place them overtop his erection and quietly whisper in your ear. "You see, doll. This is what you do to me"

Obsessed!rin who would end up finishing in the tight confines of his pants and moan your name under his breath, right against the shell of your ear; just so he can have you turning red and squirming beneath him.

Obsessed!rin who would act like he passed out from fatigue on top of you just so you both can end up sleeping together even though you were probably having trouble breathing all night because of how heavy he is but maybe it wasn't so bad.. having his intoxicating scent invade your nose and his large arms wrapped around you to keep you from leaving. You wouldn't even be able to push him off, you'll just have to let his large body be on top of you, his torso in between your legs and his face cuddled up in the crook of your neck.

©2025 wakasasawifee do not copy

[signedkoko]

Hello Koko! I Hope you had a good day/night, and that you are doing well and not overworking yourself:)

I think I saw that you didn’t have requests at the moment but that they were open so here a little request for headcanon/oneshot with Vox, Alastor and Angel dust separately with overlord gn!reader? (If you don’t take 3 at a time maybe only Vox & Alastor?)

They Thinks s/o is sweet, like they’re always smiling and being kind of everyone most of the time, they can’t believe they would even be able to hurt a fly even if they’re an overlord

but then they get told she just unalived her colleague (they were both leaders of the entreprise) because she wanted to be in full possession of their entreprise, maybe they owned a model enterprise or were music producers (like they were the one selling every musics in hell or sum like that?) how do they react?

(Really sorry if it’s unclear or if something is wrong, thanks for reading my request!)

-🐚

Alastor | Vox [Romantic]

In which you are their sweet little overlord who'd never be cruel! ...Or so they thought. Reader is genderneutral.

Your company was your baby, your castle, your absolute everything

And for the longest time, you'd always shared it with the co-founder

They had a lovely personality but worked behind the scenes for the most part while you acted on the main stage

Hell, you'd even introduced them to your otherworldly partner, Alastor, and had only told him of the good

So it was in fact quite a surprise when you turned up home with bloody hands and the most joyous smile on your face, almost as wide as your wedding day

That in itself wasn't out of the norm; you were an overlord after all! Alastor knew you could handle yourself, as much as you opted to ignore it

" Oh Al, I have great news! "

" Do tell, my dear! "

When you explained that the company was all yours, he was quick to catch on

Now that, that managed to surprise him

" I really thought you loved the gal! "

Even more surprising is how you'd managed to hide your true feelings from him for so long; he was sure he could have sniffed out your malice

But you were just that good at hiding it

He probably makes a joke about how you could be plotting his murder as we speak

" Maybe! "

His smile falters a slight bit

But you don't notice

By Vox's own request, your enterprise was kept unattached from his own; merely partners

This was because it meant better publicity if two companies got along so well, but also because he didn't want you to be overcome with the demands of his two co-founders

Yeah, Velvette and Valentino pissed him off to double hell and back, but he considered them friends

A few times, the V's and you and your co-founder would host lavish dinner parties, discussing economic growth and working together on projects

You never seemed to shy away from introducing your partner in industry, and as far as Vox could tell, you were as close as friends could be before anything got steamy

You were just the friendliest person he'd ever met; the number of fans you had showed that, but you'd even gotten favour from the other two V's with little effort on your behalf

So, of course, he was stunned when you called him in the middle of work

" You know you're the first to hear all my company news; I am now the sole owner! "

He could hear you smile through the phone, which almost scared him, and soon your phone was fizzling as he travelled through it

The first thing he noticed was that you were both standing in a puddle

A red puddle

Fuck

Ok

" Thats great and all, but lets get you out of here, and maybe—yeah, maybe we can call in a cleanup crew. "

He is your number one PR team; your overtaking of the company is seen as 'heroic' because you ' fought against a corrupt co-founder'

It surprises him, but he's almost proud of you; you are crazy strong and crazy capable

Author's Note - I do accept up to three characters for headcanons, but as per my FAQ I don't write Angel! Either way, welcome to the blog (again) shell/conch anon! Your idea is very lovely 🖤

[lady-ashfade]

Yandere older! class 1A x Spider-Man reader (gn)

╰･ﾟ✧☽ ask: Yan Class 1a But Reader is Spider man! or yan! class 1a reaction to Us being a famous youtuder making edits of them! @serxinns

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: short, hcs, yandere behavior: stalking, obsessive, protective, aggressive, love sick, a few characters.

So, being a pro hero has its ups and downs. At the end of the day you just want to save someone and give hope, even if it’s just a little bit at a time.

Naturally a sarcastic, goofy, nerdy hero who takes it upon themselves to save the lower income part of the city is well loved. So you become a big fan favorite with so many fans, and merch being sold at almost every place.

Only, it’s not just civilians who are obsessed over you. It’s your fellow pros who take notice of everything you do.

I see them gushing over every time they see you on tv. Or rushing to the scene to try and help you whenever!! They also try and patrol the places you come to the most and try and work with you.

Mina speaks her mind about you on tv and interviews if they bring you up. How much she loves you and wants to work beside you more often. I think you save her somehow in a fight and scoop her in your arms before she can fall. You saved her and from then she just can’t stop think of you.

Deku of course has a whole notebook dedicated to you. Everything to your powers, how your schedule works, how often you are in one place, if you have a routine on where you go, how many special moves you have- he is a fanboy of course. He’s the number one hero, and yet he still stutters and gets on a rant when he is asked about you. (Has a whole room of your merch)

Bakugou believes only he should work with you. You’re not some weak person and can handle yourself, but if you did need help no one could be there like he could. If you work together on some things he acts like he doesn’t want to be there with you, saying how you should be handling this on your own. But he is so selfish for being there and keeping you all to himself. He refuses to walk like three steps away from you like a hawk.

Of course I have to mention your twin flame Sero. He is chill and so cool to be around. Everyone gets jealous because you both just swing around and have fun! You can relax together, keep each other safe- I believe you would call him something good in a interview and the rest would be so pissed- while he just sends them smirks.

Jiro is probably the most chill and kept in her obsession with you. Don’t get her wrong, she worships you but she is just too shy and tries to think about you instead of her own feelings. She gets really flustered when you work together, tries her hardest to inform you on what’s going on. (Asks you to sign her guitar)

Ochako is just like Mina and is just a fangirl. Everything you come out with she buys, even on the streets when she sees something. (She sleeps with a plushie of yours) While fighting she tries to protect you but you’re just too good and she ends up fangirling. Save her- and she breaks out into lovely giggles.

[bitebitekxll]

SAGAU || When they’re in your party

Razor • Kaeya • Barbara • Xinyan

Notes: this isn’t about party comps, just the single character being in your party regardless of who else is. Starting with these 4 cause they’ve been my party since I started playing in 2020.

Also you can see this as them being your main or just constantly in your party, I think it works either way. Baby’s first tumblr post let’s goooo, maybe one day I’ll figure out a theme

Razor doesn’t really get the whole Divine Creator thing. He knows you’re important, of course he does. You’re his lupical, but with more authority than even Andrius. You take care of him, and everyone in Wolvendom and the city, and everyone everywhere as well. But, when it comes to some of the specifics… Razor gets a little confused.

He knows you’re called Grace— Teacher always corrects him, but he doesn’t know why adding ‘your’ in front is so important —and that there are festivals and traditions connected with you like there are for Barbatos. But Razor can never remember any of the prayers or songs. Bennett and Fischl took him to the Church once, but the Sister speaking used a lot of words he didn’t know the meaning of, and spoke in long sentences he struggled to focus on.

Andrius says the human customs don’t matter, because Razor has been chosen. Not only as a vessel, as someone marked by the Creator and strengthened with Their power, but also as one of your favoured vessels. Teacher explained how most people, vessels included, couldn’t feel you as strongly as he did, weren’t offered the same kind of strength he had been given since gaining your attention.

Razor knows some people don’t like how you take such good care of him. He’s different from the other people in Mondstadt, unsure of how to even be a person and constantly disturbing others with his cluelessness about human customs. Sometimes he feels guilty, that he doesn’t know how to properly thank you for all you’ve done, doesn’t even fully comprehend what you are and how he should think of you.

But then he feels his claws of steel and lightning grow stronger, feels his injuries miraculously healing after a bad fight, and he thinks that maybe he doesn’t need to know.

Maybe Razor will never get the whole Divine Creator thing, but he loves you, and he can feel how you love him. And Razor is happy.

Kaeya feels like he’s constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’re a god, the god; there’s no way you don’t know what he is. And yet, he was one of the first to become your vessel.

He had expected you to strike him down right then, the moment he felt your presence. But instead, nothing happened. He had stood there outside the Temple of the Wolf, watching the Traveler and Paimon wander away while he was paralysed with fear. The cavalier smile that had protected him for so many years faltered as he struggled to breathe, terror crushing his lungs. Kaeya had thought that was your doing— that you had decided his punishment for existing would be a slow suffocation. But when he finally managed to inhale, he realised that was not the case.

He thought maybe you actually didn’t know, and soon you would lose interest with him and turn your Gaze elsewhere. Except… he continues to get stronger, continues to feel your presence increasing in his life: what once started as a flickering flame now a blazing inferno.

Every time the swing of his blade seems to hit harder than it did the previous day, every time he notices he’s tiring slower than he ever has before, he feels dread creeping up his shoulders. If you don’t know about his heritage, then the more attention you give him, the sooner you will eventually find out.

And if you do… Kaeya doesn’t know what that would mean for him.

He is not made for worship, for reverence, he doesn’t know how. Even if he grew up with his surrogate father teaching him— the Ragnvindr household being a devoted one to both you and Barbatos —prayer always burned his tongue, bitter and acidic. He could never tell if it was because he didn’t wish to be a devotee or because he knew he didn’t deserve to be one, impostor that he was.

So Kaeya waits for the day you finally show your wrath, waits for the day this game comes to an end and you cast him down like all the sinners before him. And, deep inside where he will never bring himself to admit it, he waits for the day where he can finally believe that he, too, is worthy of your care.

Barbara has never had a greater honour than being one of your favoured. When you began claiming vessels, granting people your presence and lending them your power, she did not expect to be included among them. Amber, Kaeya, Noelle: they were all amazing at protecting the people of Mondstadt, doing so much for the community. Even Lisa, who never hid how she enjoyed slacking off, was a force to be reckoned with when she finally decided she needed to take action (usually when it concerned her books).

Barbara, however, wasn’t a fighter. She was a good healer, and tried her best to make others happy as an idol, but did that really warrant Your attention?

Apparently, it did. And the love she felt for you was enough to make her dizzy, equal parts grateful for the gift of your power and terrified she would disappoint you.

But deep inside, beneath the nerves and melancholy that plagued her heart each day, beneath the desperate need she felt to make others happy and help them, she couldn’t help but feel a quiet, selfish glee. She finally had an area she surpassed her sister in, a sign that she was good enough. Not only was she beloved by the city, but she was beloved by You, the highest ranking divinity in existence.

When she felt exhausted from her duties or her depression threatened to creep in outside of the thirty seconds she allocated for it daily, the ties she held to you, the attention you gave her above anyone else, comforted her more than anything.

So even if it’s hard for her to keep a smile on her face every day, she keeps going anyway. Because you believe in her, and she won’t let you down.

Xinyan is not the kind of person who gains the favour of the gods. The way she dresses, the way she talks, her knife eyes and frightening smile; she’s the furthest thing from ‘holy’, the furthest thing from the upstanding folk who are assumed to be the Creator’s favourite. The Divine Creator likes elegance, refinement, not loud and excitable, brash things like her.

At least, that’s what everyone else said. From a young age, Xinyan had resolved not to worry too much about it. She appreciated you and Rex Lapis, respected how Liyue was protected by the gods and the adepti, but she never revered any of them as much as some others did.

But somehow, she became a vessel anyways. And sure, some people garnered your attention only to be left alone after; Xinyan expected to be another one of those cases. Until she kept getting stronger, her shields going from a light shimmer to a solid protective bubble, the flames her vision summoned growing every week. It’s great for her shows— both the pyrotechnics and the turnout after word got around about someone like her being a favoured vessel. But, for Xinyan herself, it’s confusing.

No one knows why she has been chosen, especially not her.

At one point she thinks maybe she should focus more on her gentler hobbies: cooking, sewing, things that match the respectability that is expected from a vessel. Except she doesn’t feel Your presence when she’s at home working on her embroidery; she feels it when she’s performing, or fighting, or just running around Liyue (accidentally) causing trouble.

So sure, she might not be the typical candidate for a vessel, and she might have no idea why you picked her, but damn what anyone else has to say about it.

With the warmth inside her chest and the strength in her vision, she knows you’re happy with your choice.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 3 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys get called out to a mission after you get injured during a game, and your past finally catches up to you.

Word Count: ~ 4k

Warnings: minor character death, guns, blood, injuries, lil bit of angst, ptsd, panic attacks, episodes, and yeah

A/N: alr I’m kinda making it up as I go, but I feel like I’m slowly getting better at making accented dialogue…hope you enjoy<3 (also thinking of making it gaz x reader x soap, or just johnny?? lmk what u think)

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The longer they stayed in your home, still keeping eyes out for any of the terrorists in the area, the more they noticed some of your odd quirks.

Simon was the first to notice many of them, due to his years of experience in the military, and all of the skills he’d acquired during that time. He observed every little thing, whether it be on purpose or unconsciously.

Like how you always locked your door after entering or leaving, both locks as well. Not just one. Or the way your windows remained shut and locked, dark curtains pulled over most of them to block out any light or keep someone from looking in.

There was a knife under your pillow, and a small gun in the drawer of your nightstand. Simon would know, he’d searched the entire house when they’d first arrived, not sure if he could trust you or not. You had a gun safe in your room’s closet, and the screws on your room’s hinges were slightly unscrewed, as were every door in the house, so it would creak every so slightly when opened. So you could locate everyone in the house.

It reminded him of his habits a bit too much.

But you also had a kernel of authority to you, despite sometimes mumbling instead of speaking clearly, or the tiniest of nervous ticks he could notice, like how your lips would twitch left when unsure or insecure. Despite your stone-faced look now, you still had a few of the same tells that the little girl he’d known all those years ago did.

He only wondered what had happened to that little girl.

But he knew she’d grown up. And what he saw in you now wasn’t what he recalled from the girl he’d threatened in the past, the girl he’d intimidated and scared into staying away. Because now, you didn’t seem afraid of him at all. Not afraid of his comrades, either.

You were different in more than a few ways, now. He knew foster care had been rough on you, with god knows how many families taking you in only for money or being abusive. He barely knew the general timeline of how long you’d been in it. He’d heard tiny bits of it you’d offhandedly mentioned, and you seemed to have found a more permanent home at 12, staying until moving out here, looking for what most teenagers are, a meaning and some freedom.

But he hadn’t known just how rough it had been.

You’d gotten home from work looking beat one night, wearing some jeans, a uniform shirt, a belt, and per usual a holster for your gun. You always insisted on carrying it, and he didn’t blame you. Bad things happened to girls who lived alone here.

You didn’t even take any time to eat or change before walking into your room and collapsing into bed, asleep in a second. Work always seemed to tire you out, for whatever reason, but maybe they had you doing all kinds of shit he didn’t know waitresses did. Who was he to assume?

“She should eat dinner, at least.” Price said, watching from the couch as Johnny pouted slightly. He’d cooked a meal, especially for you, albeit Gaz had done most of the work and helped him out, basically making the entire dish, poor Soap had been waiting all day to try it.

“I can go get her?”

Kyle suggested, and Simon’s deep rumbling voice spoke up next, glancing over to your closed door, a neat “Do not enter.” sign on the front.

“She don’t like when people go in ‘er room.”

“Well, she’s breakin’ poor Soap’s heart.”

“She’s yer sister, why don’t you go get the lass.”

“She’d beat his ass, that’s why.”

Simon gave an exasperated sigh, getting up from where he’d been sitting next to Price, watching a soccer game. He approached your door, slowly opening it as it creaked. The lights were off, the room completely dark as the windows were also covered by the thick curtains you kept.

You’d made it clear that no one was allowed in your room before, but it looked normal to him. The walls were a shade of your favorite color, or what he assumed was, fairy lights with clips on them holding pictures of you and friends, and even a picture from years ago of the family, hanging from wall to wall. There was a desk at the front, papers thrown about and some neatly arranged. The clothes basket smelled vaguely of an irony tang he didn’t bother to investigate at the time.

A mirror hung on the other end of the door.

Walking quietly up to you, he watched you for a moment. Your body was deathly still, breathing quietly but a bit shaky. He could see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids, the movements erratic and frantic.

Despite himself, Simon found himself intrigued by the papers on your desk. Why had you bothered to keep them out of your room? What were you hiding? His military career kept him on his toes at all times and kept him suspicious of everyone.

After all, it was the people you trusted that could hurt you the most.

Walking silently over to your desk, he began going through papers. Gaz and Soap, now both watching through the doorway, made little hushed whispers of “Wha’ are you doing??” and “Jus’ wake ‘er up-“ that he ignored. The papers were all basic, nothing interesting.

Essays, research papers, lots of notes. But just when he thought he wouldn’t find anything, he slid open one drawer as it creaked slightly as well, finding files in it. Paper, Manila folders that were thick with information that he found himself curious about. However, just when he reached for the first one, he heard Johnny.

“Behind ye, Lt-“

The cold metal of a gun against the side of his head became more than apparent as someone kicked the backs of his knees in. A gun to his head, on his knees, with Gaz and Soap now in the room, hands up, carefully trying to approach him.

“Easy, lass. We ain’t gonna hurt ya..”

Johnny tried, and that was when Simon realized it wasn’t some enemy terrorist who had gotten in who was holding him at gunpoint, no, it was you. He hadn’t even heard you approach. Hadn’t heard you get out of bed or move at all.

But he did hear the hammer of the gun click back.

The first thought he had was that he was being betrayed. Double-crossed. Either that or you were having some sort of episode. Price approached the door, watching you like a wounded animal. Unlike Simon, he could see the way your eyes weren’t there, that you were somewhere else, in an entirely different world, doing what you thought was right.

Price slowly approached, bolder than both of the Sergeants, but with a practiced precision. He’d done this before. They could tell.

“Can you tell me who you’re pointin’ a gun at?”

He asked, voice unwavering and not full of pity, but instead understanding. He watched your eyes slowly trail from the gun to Simon, now completely still, and held a hand for Gaz and Soap to stay where they were. He could tell when the realization slowly began dawning on you, that you weren’t in danger, and that this was Simon.

A tiny click, the safety being switched on, before you took the gun from Simon’s head and set it on the floor, kicking it away from you to Price. Usually, you wouldn’t sleep with a gun on your person for this reason. By the time you would open the nightstand to grab it, you’d usually have already snapped out of it.

Sighing deeply, you slumped on the floor beside Simon as he slowly relaxed, and you curled up into a ball. You didn’t say anything, and neither did they. Price took the gun, standing and walking out of the room, giving a nod to Gaz and jerking his head to Soap as the Captain and Johnny left the room.

Kyle remained nearby, just in case, but didn’t say anything.

“Didn’ know you had it in ya to hold a gun to my head,” Simon said, trying for a bit of humor to make you laugh, or even hear a snort in reply, or even a snarky comment about how stupid he was. When you didn’t do anything, he silently sighed.

“How often do you have ‘em?”

“Every night.”

He made a small grunt at that. He could understand nightmares a bit too well, considering the demons of his own he had. He put an arm slowly around you, and when you didn’t stiffen, he considered it okay as he slowly stood, picking you up. However, as soon as he picked you up, you mumbled something under your breath and squirmed free, standing on your own.

“Let’s get ya some fresh air.”

He said, leading you out of the room. He took one last glance at the open file drawer and decided that you had your secrets, and he had his, and it could stay like that until either of you was ready to change it.

~

Nothing had changed since that night, other than one thing.

No one tried to wake you up again.

However, you remained as sassy and slightly stoic as usual, still caring for them, and now savoring every one of Johnny’s dinners to make up for the one you’d missed that night.

When they showed up covered in blood, sweat, and tears, you would take it in stride, patching them up and grumbling about buying more medical supplies, washing their clothes, and buying razors for them because, “A beard does not suit any of you but Price.” You’d even bought food they liked, albeit making them cough up some money for it, because of the job you had at some little restaurant they’d never heard of before as a waitress. You only really worked the job on some weekends, when you weren’t on a big absence for traveling during volleyball season, or at camps.

Your manager-landlord was surprisingly lenient about it, Simon thought. But considering all the weapons you had, he wouldn’t be surprised if a little threat went a long way.

He’d always wondered what you did at those volleyball games, anyway. That was until Price spoke up about it at breakfast one morning when you hadn’t left early for practice, and Laswell had eventually just informed them to lie low until further orders came.

“You oughtta come out wit’ us, get out the house a lil’.”

Johnny had suggested, and Gaz had given a little affirming nod. Simon remained silent, quietly watching as you shook your head.

“Can’t, got games today.”

You replied without even glancing up at them, eyes on your plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. That was the usual. You always had games, training, work, or school. With a schedule as busy as that, none of them knew how you managed it, but it left little to no time for you to simply relax or hang out with them.

Johnny grumbled about something with his mouth full of eggs when Price spoke up.

“Why don’ we go watch, eh? You been havin’ me help wit’ the plans, might as well.” He suggested before taking a big bite of bacon. You paused at that, glancing up at Price, studying him, before swallowing the food in your mouth.

“I’ll think about it.” Was the only answer they’d gotten at the time, but around thirty minutes before the game, you’d texted Simon the address, which was enough of a sign for him to get the boys and head over to your school, walking in the gym and paying for their entry. Six dollars for an adult, players were free.

To be fair, they tried their hardest to dress in civilian clothes and act normal, but it was hard when their instincts screamed to check every corner, keep eyes on the windows and doors, and scan for possible entries and exits.

You and your team were already practicing by then, setting up a hitting line, one setter in the front middle, two lines of hitters taking turns, and two passers in the back row bumping the ball to the setter, who promptly set it, and the hitter smacked it over.

Many of the girls were tall, and while you weren’t too short, standing at around 5’7 now, you weren’t the tallest either. That might’ve been the reason that you were mainly a back-row passer, also taking into consideration the control you held over your hits and body as well. The other team got full court to practice before the game for 2 minutes, which must’ve been the usual around this area.

“They bette’ win this,” Gaz murmured, seated to the left of Price, who watched as another girl on the team whispered something in your ear that had you biting your lip to hold back a smile. You were close with these people, they could all tell that.

“Our lass’ got it, I’m sure.”

Johnny said, watching the other team practice while Simon did the same. Simon’s attention was then diverted back to you, as any hint of laughter or amusement faded from your expression, into the stone wall he’d come to know. With a notebook in hand, you went over something with the rest of the team as they all huddled, the coach nearby and nodding along with it as they pointed something out with a pencil in hand.

A few adjustments must’ve been made before a game of rock-paper-scissors was played between the two coaches to decide who got first serve. The other team did. Already off to a disadvantage, he thought.

You all took up your positions in the court, Simon not recognizing anyone but you, with your hair, braided tightly back by one of your teammates, and the bright red jersey everyone on your team wore. You were number 14. He vaguely remembered Johnny mentioning something about you wearing a jersey in the number 14.

You were in the top right position, tucking any stray pieces of hair that had gotten loose somehow behind your ears, before all of your team was in position. The serve was hit over by the other team, and a brunette in the back row passed it to the setter, who made the ball go in a perfect arch in your direction. You began the approach of the ball, jumping up, arm held back, and ready to spike it. The blockers for the other team jumped, ready to deflect any ball, but right when you were going to spike it, your left non-hitting hand tipped the ball over the net.

Right between the blockers.

“Cleva girl,” Gaz said with a small smirk, and Soap lowly whistled. You didn’t glance up at them, expression remaining still despite the clever move.

It hit the floor, and a whistle sounded. Your team’s point. A rotation was done, and you were serving. They watched you toss the ball up, approach, jump, and smack it down all in less than 15 seconds before you were back in your spot, ready for the ball to be returned.

“Bloody hell..” Simon said, watching the two teams volley. He didn’t know many of the rules of volleyball, only Price knew most of them because of some of your late-night conversations on strategies to use with your team, but he was pretty damn sure you were doing good.

Your team moved in fluidity with each other, and it made Simon wonder what the hell you’d been putting these girls through in those training sessions, and what your coach had been doing. It reminded him a little of his team, his Task Force. The way you all knew each other, how high a set had to be for one specific person, the way one girl would slightly skew her bumps to the left, and the setter would move accordingly, or how to interweave without bumping into one another.

And the way you held everyone together… reminded him of Price the most.

When someone messed up, you didn’t yell or look disappointed, you simply glanced at them, acknowledged them, and gave a small nod. The same when someone pulled something off well. When you won the first set, you didn’t let your team gloat in the victory for too long.

And when you were losing the second set? Your teammates got a bit skittish, sure, but the way you remained almost totally unaffected kept them together. You were the glue of the team, keeping everyone out of their heads and in the game.

The second set was lost, but the third set remained.

“They play the last one to fifteen’.”

Price informed the boys after they’d sat up a little more, on the edge of their seats, bodies taught with stress. Kyle could’ve sworn Johnny was sweating a bit.

It went over fifteen, as you had to win by two points, and it was currently 15-16. One more point and the opposing team would win. But three more points and your team would.

Price’s phone began ringing.

A harsh serve from the opposite team and the bump was skewed by an anxious redhead in the back row. It went too far to the side, and you were running for it, but it looked too far away.

Two steps away.

Price was talking quietly to whoever was calling, his work voice on. Simon was too focused on you to care about the phone.

You weren’t close enough.

One knee went down closer to the ground, and your remaining foot kicked off the ground as your body dove for it.

A grim tone from the Captain as he nodded to whatever question Gaz had asked, while he ended the call.

Only a foot away.

Your hand flattened against the ground just as the ball bounced off of it, your head smacking hard against the floor.

Price muttered something to Soap, who tried nudging Simon, but didn’t get his attention, his eyes on you.

Your team played the ball off of the save, and the opposing team lost the point. The whistle was blown while the game was 16-16, mainly because you weren’t getting up. Out cold.

Simon shot to his feet, already, heading in your direction. There was red spreading on the floor, and he was back in his family home, looking down at his mother’s crumpled body, flashes of his little nephew’s bloodied corpse, and his brother’s shredded body coming into view.

He wasn’t there fast enough, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He had failed.

Before he could go down even a single step, Price’s hand came down onto his shoulder firmly, holding him back. Grounding him. As he turned to face the Captain, Price spoke.

“It’s Laswell. Urgent, they need us.” He spoke quietly, and Ghost could only look on as they picked up your unconscious form from the floor, a part of your blond hair dyed red with the liquid oozing from it, and carried you away.

“She’ll be alright, Lt. Let’s go,” Soap said, grabbing Simon’s hand and pulling him along like a lost puppy. Gaz and Price were talking about something in front of them as they walked out.

The moment they got to the car, Price pulled their uniforms out of the trunk.

“Jus’ in case,”

He said, tossing them to each respective man, and Price drove while the rest of them changed in the car. The moment Simon slipped his mask on, he willed himself to forget about anything regarding you.

The job came first.

~

Your head was swimming and fuzzy. Your limbs refused to cooperate properly.

You recognized your bed, the dark curtains on the windows, and the smell of your room, covered in the perfume you always wore. Your vision was blurry, too blurry to simply be from sleeping.

Swallowing, you tried to sit up, only to find your throat dryer than a desert and your limbs shaky and weak. You made a small grunt when you tumbled from the bed to the floor, vision blurring more before going slightly back to normal. As normal as it could be right now.

You heard a small female gasp and your bedroom door opened with a creak. One of your closest friends from the volleyball team, Nalani, walked in, immediately going to your side.

Her brown, bronze skin reminded you of Gaz, and her long, dark intricate braids you’d always been amazed by hung in a ponytail behind her. Sure, you two might’ve fooled around a bit a few months back, but that was behind you. Behind both of you. She was a friend, just a friend, even if friends didn’t usually share beds and know how each other tasted.

But you trusted her more than most, that was for sure.

She’d seen your scars, heard what you could tell her without endangering her life, and she hadn’t backed away. She’d embraced it with you. Even on your worst days.

“You just busted your head open, you need to stay in bed.”

She mumbled, putting you back into the bed after lifting you. She’d changed you into your favorite pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt. It was only when she began going on and on about how stubborn you were, that you noticed a blur of movement in the doorway.

You’d seen Simon’s friends leave earlier. Assumed they’d been on a mission again.

You began pushing against Nalani, and she looked confused.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Your throat was too dry and cracked. You rasped to get something out as a gun poked around the corner. A silencer on it.

“Down, get-“

You tried pushing her down, the other hand reaching for the gun in your nightstand, fingers fumbling to find it. You were too late.

A near silent shot, and there was a hole in the back of her head that you couldn’t see but knew was there. She crumpled to the ground as you tried again to grab your pistol from the nightstand drawer, only to realize that Price had never returned it after that night.

Cursing under your breath, you grabbed the knife from under your pillow, a hunting knife, and threw it, watching as it embedded itself into the man peeking around the corner’s neck.

One down.

More came, though. Too many. Your vision blurred as you heard male voices talking, a shot down by your legs, but not quite hitting.

They were trying to disable you.

Your head was throbbing, adrenaline making you forget grief in the moment. Pain exploded through your veins as you felt a bullet whiz past you, nicking your right arm. Three men stormed the room, clearing it, before one of them came into sight, kneeling to be eye level with you.

“Thought we wouldn’t find you, yes? The Wasp’s Nest is not as secure as you thought. We’ll get our retribution.”

He spoke mockingly to you, before shoving a white bag over your head. Other voices filled the room, quiet, but loud enough for your dwindling consciousness to catch.

“…useful?”

“It’ll work……able to….again.”

“…knock her..”

“Roger that..”

You felt the blunt force of the back of a gun being slammed against your head, and your vision went black.

If you’d told the truth, then maybe none of this wouldn’t have happened.

But in the end.

The job came first.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

@sharkluver

@100percentlazybonez

[kurishiri]

95K┊Dark If —Harrison Gray—

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— the 95k story for dark if (part 1), featuring harry. i think it is “required reading” to understand the world of this event, but they set it as the 95k bonus story, so i'm translating it. please note this does not necessarily have a happy end.

— cw: mentions of murder and death, angst.

Every story had an established plot, so to speak.

For example, in Cinderella, the prince fell in love at first sight with Cinderella, and they lived happily ever after.

Or if we took Snow White, the kiss from the prince would awaken her, and then they lived happily ever after.

‘It’s boring if everything goes as planned?’ That’s fine, since it’s the type of story most people want.

But, I wonder when this all went down...when did this fairytale world start to become so twisted?

And also, what had to have gone down for me to end up in this role of guiding the keyman to this world and through those twists?

Tonight, once again, the keyman who had wandered into this fairytale world tried to run away, returning to reality.

In other words, they were not the keyman, but rather they just happened to get caught up in all of this.

Victor: It seems this time as well, they were unable to find the missing thing.

Harrison the Lying Fox: They’ll just think of it all as a bad dream and forget about it anyway.

H: Besides...

Victor: ‘It’s best to quickly forget about this world and live in reality’?

This mysterious man named Victor, who wandered this world, had a shrewd look as he smiled, and as usual, such a look irritated me.

Just when I thought of throwing even a single insult his way, I heard the sound of footsteps.

(Ahh, here we go again...)

(Someone was ‘summoned’ by this world.)

Victor: Oh, where are you headed off to? There’s a guest here.

Harrison the Lying Fox: I’ll look from afar. There’s not much point in talking face to face anyway.

Victor: I see. Then do as you like.

——And then, the footsteps gradually grew louder, until they stopped.

Victor: Welcome to the twisted fairytale world...

V: A guest has come~~ Yippeee~~!

There stood a figure, petrified from what looked like anxiety.

Kate: Um, where... I... just now I was at the bookstore, and...

(Oh jeez... she’s so frightened.)

Kate: Uhm, I’m in the middle of my letter carrier duties. So I would like to return to Kingsley Books...

Victor: Now that may be a bit difficult.

Kate: Huh?

Victor’s explanation, something he had repeated thousands of times over, flowed smoothly.

How he selfishly wanted her to find the ‘missing thing’ in the fairytale world.

And then, the one named Kate was sent to the twisted fairytale world in order to find that very thing.

Victor: Harrison. Are you going to take a peek into the story?

Harrison the Lying Fox: You can stop with the act. I know you know as well that I’ve got no choice but to.

The lying fox was always a despised presence within a fairy tale.

And that was the role I bore. It was my fate to spend my life serving this world so that it could return to normal.

(I can freely traverse through any fairytale world.)

(But if I were to flip a coin on it, it would mean I would never be able to become a character in any fairy tale.)

Despite the fact I was bearing this troublesome fate, I myself couldn’t correct any of these stories... it was ironic.

Victor: Well then, have a good time. May you find the best happy end this time.

—— Traversing... ——

Kate: I’m... Cinderella?

Having been sent to the world of Cinderella, Kate wasted little time in starting her search for the missing thing.

She was trying so hard I couldn’t help but feel fed up.

But——

Stepmother: It’s because of children like you that my own girls don’t get chosen by the prince!

Kate: P-please stop...

Stepmother: You...someone like you...!

So that one of her own children would become the prince’s fiancée, the stepmother schemed and killed Kate.

Once again, this fairy tale reached a bad end.

And then, Kate was taken back to reality from the fairytale world.

—— In reality ——

Kate: Huh? I... what was I doing again?

K: ...I feel as though I was sleeping for a long time...

I had come to realize in the long time I had been observing that if a keyman were to die in the fairytale world and reach a bad end,

they would be forcefully returned to reality like this.

And——all of what happened in that world would be wiped clean from their memories.

But, in most cases, their bodies would still remember, and they would leave, as though to run away.

It was like they were saying they didn’t want to see a bad dream again.

(Alright now, you get out of here quickly too.)

(Go back to that peaceful everyday life filled with normalcy.)

Kate: ………

After standing up with a bit of a wobble, Kate once again reached for the fallen book.

(………Huh? What in the world are you doing?)

And then, as if trying her best to remember something precious, she furrowed her brows,

and then, once again, Kate was sucked into the book like she was being summoned by it.

Harrison the Lying Fox: Wh——you idiot.

And so, Kate — once again — found herself repeating the same exchange with Victor,

landing in the world of Alice in Wonderland.

In this world, the bell signifying the Queen of Heart’s judgment resonated.

Kate: I’m looking for the missing thing in this world.

K: That is, the thing that’s lacking in the world. If that is——a peaceful life...

Liam the Cheshire Cat: Then you wouldn’t want to approach the Queen of Hearts. Well, all is up to you, Alice.

And so, Kate once again tried so hard to find the missing thing, it was laughable.

(Why do you feel the need to go so far?)

(...Ah, jeez, if you get hurt again that’s all on you.)

This time, in this story as well, Kate was unable to find the missing thing.

And, never learning from what had happened, she would continue to choose this cycle.

Over, and over again, she would roam within these twisted fairy tales.

At one time, she was Snow White.

But, she was killed by a foreign prince named Natalia, who was aiming to conquer the country that Queen Elbert ruled, covering for him.

And at another time, she was Sleeping Beauty.

She was cursed by a fairy to ‘prick her finger on a spinning wheel ten years later, triggering the curse,’

but before that time, she had passed away from an illness.

Such events would repeat themselves, over and over again.

And, over and over again, I would watch over Kate.

Today as well, Kate was in a twisted fairytale world, continuing her search.

At this point, I couldn’t bring myself to care about what fairy tale she was in.

It was just watching over her was my job.

Today, it had been raining in this forest nonstop since the morning, and Kate’s shoulders grew more soaked.

When I saw her body trembling in the cold, I couldn’t bear it...

——And, for the first time, I approached Kate.

Without an utterance, I held an umbrella above her.

Kate: ...?

Harrison the Lying Fox: The rain won’t stop for a while. Wanna come in?

Kate: T-thank you?

Harrison the Lying Fox: Haha, why phrase it like a question?

Kate: Um... can I ask who you are?

(My name...)

Harrison the Lying Fox: That kind of thing doesn’t really matter, does it. Since we’re going to be parting ways when the rain stops anyway.

Kate: Is that so. Yes... I suppose so...

Kate looked a bit lonely, before thanking me again.

Under a single umbrella, I looked up at the sky, the rain falling non-stop.

(I hate the rain.)

(...But, just for today, I wouldn’t mind if it never stopped.)

(Because, then I can be together with you... for just a little longer.)

The ‘thanks’ from Kate made a strange warmth seep into my heart.

And then, once again, Kate was killed in the fairy tale.

While I’d seen her die countless times, for some reason, this time made me feel a pang in my heart for the first time.

—— Time skip ——

Victor: Oh my, Harrison. It’s not every day I see you here.

Harrison the Lying Fox: Could you stop this already?

Victor: ...I take it this is about Kate?

Harrison the Lying Fox: .........

Victor: That, I can’t do.

Harrison the Lying Fox: And why’s that?

Victor: Because, for some reason, Kate herself ends up choosing to come back here over and over. This is a first for me as well.

V: And I find myself thinking, about Kate...

Harrison the Lying Fox: What about her? Hurry and say it already.

Victor: Perhaps she may be the true keyman?

V: Harrison? Where are you headed?

Harrison the Lying Fox: ...To Kate.

Victor: I see... do be careful.

Kate was in the world of Cinderella, like she was the first time.

Tonight, Kate was participating in the ball, and she must introduce herself to the prince.

She had a fairy godmother alter her appearance, and I thought she looked more beautiful than any of the other participants here.

That was no lie, either, since the eyes of any who passed by would be taken by her.

But, Kate, the gentle soul she was, could not bring herself to approach the prince directly.

(Ahh... if she doesn’t speak up, he’ll get stolen by other women.)

(Jeez, always making more work for me.)

I quietly approached, and I dropped an empty glass from a table right adjacent to Kate,

causing a shattering sound to resonate through the dance hall, and everyone in the venue turned their attention on Kate.

Kate: Ah, wh—? Me? I-I’m so sorry...

(Look over there, the prince has finally noticed you.)

Prince: Um, are you hurt anywhere?

When I confirmed the prince had reached out to Kate, I left the venue.

After all, a lying fox was hardly suited for such a place.

I descended the long staircase myself.

(I don’t think that would be enough to change the course of the story.)

(Kate, go and find the missing thing. This time, for sure.)

When I wished for this, a bitter feeling bloomed in my chest, as though I had bitten on sand.

(I see, if Kate were to find a happy ending, I would no longer be needed.)

Before I knew it, I had watched over Kate for quite a while.

At some point, Kate had already become a part of my everyday.

(——What am I saying, with something so out of character like how a farewell would be lonely.)

Trying to shake off these conflicting emotions, I continued to walk, when...

Kate: Uhm...

(...Kate?)

When I turned around, I saw Kate running down, holding the hem of her dress up as she did.

(...What happened with the prince?)

(Why’s she chasing after me?)

Many words welled up in my throat, but I pushed them all down.

After all, in Kate’s memory, I was not there.

Harrison the Lying Fox: Did you need something?

Kate: Ah, um...

Harrison the Lying Fox: ...?

Kate: Have... we met somewhere before, by any chance...?

Harrison the Lying Fox: ......... (O_O)

Kate’s eyes pierced through me, like she was begging for the truth.

We stared at each other for several seconds, which felt more like an eternity.

But, the one who broke it first was me.

Harrison the Lying Fox: Who knows. It’s probably just you.

(It’s alright. I’m good at telling lies.)

Kate: I...see. Sorry about that, for saying something so strange. Please forget it.

Kate put up a forced smile before she returned from where she came.

And I, much like a fool, couldn’t take my eyes off of her back.

(Hey, Kate. Having watched over you all this time, I’ve come to realize something.)

The ‘missing thing’ that Kate had always been searching for in these fairytale worlds...

(That is——the protagonist.)

(Kate. You yourself are the missing thing in its truest form.)

Had Kate followed her own heart, choosing a path to become happy,

I was sure the twisted fairy tale would reach its end.

But, when I tried to tell Kate,

Harrison the Lying Fox: Gugh, hah... gh...

Something seemed to stop words from forming in my voice.

And, as though mocking at this eternal, twisted fate from afar, the clock struck twelve.

Harrison the Lying Fox: .........

(I can’t become your prince, nor can I become your lover.)

(And, someday, you may end up finding your happy end.)

(But... for now... even if it’s just this moment——)

Harrison the Lying Fox: Hey, you there. ...Heading that way could spell out danger, you know?

Kate: And you are?

Harrison the Lying Fox: Who knows. More importantly, where are you planning to go?

(...Let me watch over you, while holding the key of this secret in my hand.)

That night, as strange as it was, I had a dream.

In my fairy tale, one that remained without a name to call it, Kate suddenly appeared and said——

Kate: Harrison!

Harrison the Lying Fox: How do you know my name?

Kate: Of course I know. Because I’ve always been searching for you.

Harrison the Lying Fox: ......... (O_O)

Kate: ...Harrison, I like you. Would you become my happy end?

(Ahh... I see now.)

(So this is the most convenient dream for me.)

A bitter, yet unbearably sweet feeling blossomed in my heart.

(If this isn’t a reality, then I won’t have to lie anymore, right?)

I touched Kate’s wrist, and then brought her in an embrace.

(That’s right, I had always... wanted to hug you like this.)

Harrison the Lying Fox: Me too.

H: I’ve always wanted to reach the best end with you, too.

(Kate, I no longer want to see you crying.)

(I think you’re much better suited with a carefree smile.)

Harrison the Lying Fox: Kate. I like you.

I wished that time could stop, just a little bit longer,

for while this momentary dream was fleeting, I had never had seen a better one before.

Fin.

masterlist 🗝️ ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

[twoidiotwriters1]

Gems ✨ (Sanji, Zoro and Ace)

A/N: If you want this with more characters, comment.

You have a fascination for rocks, stones, and gemstones. It’s been your hobby since you were a kid, but the real deal of it it’s to find one with the same tone as your loved one’s eyes. How would they react to this? 

Sanji

“Wait, maybe this one—no, maybe this—no!” You pout making Sanji chuckle. “Don’t laugh, it’s not fair.” 

“I’m sorry, love,” he smiles and returns to cut the vegetables. 

You sigh. “That’s the worst part! It’s not your fault,” You cross your arms. “It’s not your fault for having such beautiful blue eyes that I can't find in a stone.” 

“I’ll take the compliment.” 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “It’s just,” you let out a groan and walk to his side. “Sanji,” you call him and he leaves the knife on the table. He’s surprised at the closeness, but you grab his face and make him lean to you.  

“How the hell am I gonna find a colour as this ice shade of blue that is warm at the same time? This fucking blue that changes with light like a pure diamond. It’s so frustrating to look at your eyes because I want to admire them every minute! Your eyes are pure blue, like the all blue, my all blue, Sanji.” Your eyes tear and you pout again, then you leave Sanji’s face to hug him by the waist. 

By instinct, he hugs you too, but his mind’s a blur. Sanji, the one and only lover cook, the man that always flirts with any woman (now just with you) the one that always knows how to embellish his words now paralyzed after your beautiful speech. 

 He keeps silent, so quiet that you don’t even hear his breath, so you step away to look at him with worry. “Sanji?” 

“N-no one has ever… told me such beautiful things… in my life,” he says still in a trance as his cheeks tint in a pinky shade. 

You gasp. “Are you… blushing?” You notice with wide eyes. “Did I make you blush?” 

He shakes his head, coming back to reality and he realizes his cheeks feel warm. He laughs embarrassed. “How could I not if the most amazing woman that I love says those words?” he grabs you by the waist. 

“I feel powerful,” you joke. 

“Love,” he grabs your chin. “You have all the power over me, you must know that,” he softly kisses you. “I loved how you described my eyes, it made yours bright as well.” 

You frown. “I’m still frustrated.” 

He chuckles. “I’m sure you’ll find it soon, sweetheart,” he kisses you again, taking his time to embrace the feeling of pure luck of having a girlfriend who can make these little details something extraordinary. 

** 

Zoro

“Zoro!” He groans as he drops the weights. “Zoro! Zoro!” Your voice increases as you approach the crow’s nest. 

“What?” He asks in an exhausted breath when he sees you enter. He walks to grab his bottle of water and then sits down on the floor, back against the wall. 

You run giggling and you sit next to him, crossing your legs. “I found it!” You squeal as you raise your hand and show him the gemstone. 

“A rock?” He raises a brow. 

“No,” you sing, “it’s not just a rock.” You roll your eyes. 

“What is it, then?” He asks annoyed. 

You smile again and lean to put the stone beside Zoro’s right eye “This is a gemstone the same shade as your pretty eyes— And!” You move it to his hair. “Has tints of green like your hair!” 

Zoro’s body tenses when you get closer, but he tries to pay attention to your words instead. He frowns. “What?” 

“Yeah!” You giggle returning to your place. “I’ve spent a month looking for it.” 

He’s lost. 

“Why?” He let out a chuckle and your smile faded.  

You stare at him feeling your cheeks burn as you play with the stone in your hands. “I-I like your eye colour, and I thought… I mean—I could find it in a gemstone,” your voice and head are low as you speak. “Because it’s a different kind of—you know what?” You raise your head and tensely smile. “Maybe it was a bad idea,” You panic and try to stand up, but Zoro stops you grabbing your hand. You look at him confused.  

“It wasn’t,” he didn't mean to make you feel bad, he genuinely didn’t understand, but as you told him a little, now he feels… odd. “Can I see it?” He blushes.  

Your smile returns. “Sure!” You say giving him the stone. 

He looks and your heart pounds in excitement. 

“Uh—Can I… Can I keep it for a while?” He asks shyly. 

You raise your brows. “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s your eye after all,” you giggle. 

“You’re so weird sometimes,” he smirks. 

The next day you’re showing Luffy some of your new stones till Sanji calls everybody to eat. Your captain disappears in a heartbeat while you take your time to store your stones. 

“Hey!” Zoro sits next to you leaning his arms against his knees.  

“Hi!” You smile. Then he sighs and seems like he’s debating inside his head. “What’s wrong?” You tilt your head. 

He blushes hard. “I cut the stone that you gave me.” 

“Oh,” you frown. “I—I mean, it’s yours, you can do what—” 

“Here,” he interrupts you touching his left ear. You follow his hand and gasp loudly. He's always used his three iconic golden earrings, but now, behind the last one, there’s a piece of the gemstone. 

You can’t close your mouth keeping your eyes on the jewelry, then you slowly and carefully touch it. 

“You like it?” He smirks looking at you. His eyes show playfulness, you could cry right there. 

“I love it!” You throw yourself to kiss him, and he catches you grabbing your waist. “You’re so sweet,” you coo close to his face. 

“No, I'm not,” he frowns. 

“Such a good boyfriend,” you insist. 

“Stop it,” he laughs. 

“And you look hot.” 

“That’s what I like,” he kisses you. 

** 

Ace

“Ace!” 

“I didn’t do it!” He says by reflex making you giggle. 

“Hands up! Star still,” you joke but he obeys anyway. You put your new stone beside his eye. 

“Are you gonna take out my eye to sell it?” He asks. 

You frown. “Why would I sell just one eye?” You back off. 

He shrugs. “I never know your plans. I mean, I bet they’ll give you something, it's Fire Fist’s eye.” He says with a cocky smile. 

“They want all of you, not just your eye—that’s not why—” You shake your head. “Never mind, look,” You raise your hand to show him the rock and he quickly takes it. 

He knows about your love for rocks, and he always waits for you to explain the rock’s story. He loves how excited you get. “Awesome! What are you gonna tell me about this little guy?” He closes one eye to look at the details. 

You blush. “It’s uh, it’s a special one.” 

“Why?” He asks still distracted. 

“It’s… it’s the same colour as your eyes.”  

He tilts his head. “Really?” He looks around him. “Wait, I need a mirror,” he stands up and runs inside de ship. He comes back a few minutes later with a piece of mirror in his hand. He raises it and puts the rock beside his eye again. “Wait,” he frowns, “it also has a little red. My eyes are red?” 

You giggle at his confused face. “No, you don’t have red in your eyes. That’s because it’s made of lava, it’s like it has fire in it… like you.” 

He lowers his hands to fully look at you. he stays in silence for a minute, then smiles wide. “It’s amazing! How did you find it?” He asks excitedly. 

Your chest feels warm and your heart pounds hard against it. Not many people appreciate your love of gems, so you can't help but get a little teary-eyed as you share this with your boyfriend. 

“It took me months, but it was worth it,” you smile. 

“It’s cool—but why did you want to look for a stone the same colour as my eyes?” 

“Uh,” you flush. “’Cuz I like your eyes, dummy.” 

He smirks, and he opens his mouth to tease you, but then, an idea comes to his mind. “I got an idea, can I?” He says like a little kid pointing to the stone. 

You frown . His ideas can get a little… unexpected. “With—with the gemstone?” He nods. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Great!” He says, lighting up his finger with a fire flame and cutting the stone in half with just one movement. You look at it in shock. 

“What!? Why? Ace?” 

“It’s all right, sweetheart, trust the process.”  

He kneels and unties both of his boot’s laces and then he wraps the stone in them several times. “Ta-da!” He says showing you an improvised kind of necklace. You grab it while he does the same with his half. 

“Let me help ya’,” he walks and puts the stone around your neck. “Ha! Now I always have an eye on you!” He laughs at his joke. You touch your stone and look at his moving against his bare chest. “Bad joke, I know but… are you okay, angel?” He asks with worry. 

Your best answer is to jump into his arms and hug him tight. He quickly catches you by your waist. “I love you, Ace,” you whisper with the biggest smile on your face. 

He chuckles. “I love you too.” 

[inkykeiji]

say you’ll love me to death, cause i will

character: todoroki touya | dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut

notes: alright, so we’ve discussed how touya-nii would react to encountering the man who took your virginity, but let's talk about how you would respond to running into the woman who took touya’s. set in my touya-nii au! as always please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: RUNRUNRUN by dutch melrose

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (stepcest), public sex, minimal prep, extreme jealousy, toxic relationship

words: 4.7k

synopsis:

“Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?”  And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth.  No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other.  You’re something so much better. 

You’re off minding your own business, legs swinging idly on a bar stool as you wait for your designated reservation time, when it happens, when she appears. 

“Touya?”

The name cuts through the blurred noise of the restaurant, both yours and Touya’s attention snapping to the source: a woman, late twenties or so, waving a little in indication on the other side of the bar. 

She’s snaking through the patchy crowd, busy unfastening her hair from the intricate bun its been woven into—a requisite for all the waitresses at this establishment—eyes bright, smile brighter. 

You don’t even know who she is; not technically, anyway, had never thought to press the issue any further than a simple how’d it happen, had never cared enough to try—especially not when he had been sleeping with so many others right in front of you. 

It hadn’t seemed to matter much then. Not the way it matters now.

But she exists, because she must, because somebody would’ve had to take it, would’ve had to be the first, one way or another.

Doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

She’s pretty, but you wouldn’t expect any less. Touya stands as she reaches the two of you, pulling your body up with him.

But then Touya greets her, a name you’ve heard kicked around every now and then, and it all fully, finally clicks. 

Touya’s first. 

“Oh my God,” she’s gushing, “I haven’t seen you in—What’s it been now? Over ten years?” 

“Just about,” he responds easily, readjusting his grasp reassuringly on your hip as you cling to him, large palm flattening against your abdomen and hugging you closer to his side, tucked protectively beneath his arm.

“What are the chances! You look...” her eyes scan his body once, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, then back up again, and your fingers flex, coiled and rigid in the material of his shirt, stiff joints already aching. “Wow, incredible!”

“Thanks,” Touya says, an awkward lull in the conversation when he doesn’t repay the compliment. 

Their discussion meanders for a little bit—how have you been, what are you doing now, remember when...?—most of it muddled by the blood roaring in your ears and jealousy burning in your throat. 

But then her fingertip is just barely grazing his forearm as she points in indication at the ink etched into his skin, and your ears tune into their frequency again, white-hot fury slicing through hazy envy.

“I remember when you started this one,” she’s reminiscing. “You finally finished all of the pieces,” she says with another appreciative glance, and you grip him tighter, the skin of your knuckles pulled so taut it’s starting to hurt. “It’s so breathtaking to see them all come together.”

And you hate the way she speaks to him with a certain type of familiarity; an old friend, effortless and full of laughs, someone who knew him long before you did, when you were only in grade school.  

God, how rude of her not to introduce herself, she’s telling you as she finally turns toward you, finally takes notice of you, rooted in Touya’s side; a growth he planted there himself, shoved between his ribs and engrained in his soul, roots so tangled you’re both irremovable, inseparable, now.

She holds out her hand in greeting, but you only clutch Touya more firmly, nails scraping against starched cashmere, face half-hidden in his chest, childish and petulant. 

The woman’s smile drops from her face, a slow drooping of her mouth as her forehead crinkles, confusion bleeding through her features.

“She’s shy,” Touya says as way of explanation, but that wolfish smile is stretched sharply across his cheeks, teeth gleaming in the dim light.

“I see,” she says, almost hesitantly, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before they flit back to Touya’s face, expression brightening again. “Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?” 

And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth. 

No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other. 

You’re something so much better. 

“Oh, we’re not a couple. This is my little sister.” 

And, oh, how this is always your favourite part.  

You know that it’s his favourite part, too. 

Because the way that shock and disgust eats through their confusion, fucking devours any other emotion on their face, is better than anything else in the entire world. The way their expression churns into something twisted and repulsed sends sordid little thrills racing through your veins, blood buzzing with adrenaline.

The two of you must be such a fucking sight, expressions handcrafted by the Devil himself,  with glowing eyes—gluttonous gazes gobbling up every little expression, two pairs wide and  frantic as they glide across her face—and smug little smirks, points of your mouths so sharp they could pierce the flesh of a fingertip if touched. 

Her voice sputters a little, snagging in her throat as she struggles to find the proper words, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear the scene in front of her. 

“I—Uh, I didn’t know you had another little sister?” 

It’s phrased as a question, her voice beginning to tremble, unnerved as her stare swaps between your faces.

“My mom remarried,” Touya says simply. “This one came packaged with the deal.” 

He jostles you in his arms a little—showing off his favourite, precious, most coveted prize—and you cuddle into him, burrowing into his chest a little, fingers flexing in his dress shirt as you clutch him tighter, gathering healthy handfuls of cashmere in your scrunched palms, buttons beginning to strain beneath the strength of your grip. 

And he states it proudly, as if he’s glad to own you, to be your big brother, to call you his, staring down at you with so much fondness it melts his hard eyes, sapphire turned to something thick and gooey.

“Oh,” the woman responds, but her voice wavers through a wobbly smile on her face, lips unsure if they want to grin or grimace. “That’s cool.” 

“Yeah,” Touya responds, though his eyes do not leave yours, voice softening. “I got pretty fuckin’ lucky. Don’t think I could’ve asked for anything better.” 

You can feel the sick, sadistic glee radiating off of him in dense waves—something heavy, something intoxicating—and, if this girl knows him well enough, you’re sure she can, too. 

It’s so thick it’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe it in readily, greedily, draw it into your lungs and let it marinate in your tissues—infect, consume, decay. 

“We should go for drinks sometime!” her unnaturally chipper tone snaps the trance, draws both of your gazes back to her. “You know, to catch up and all that.”  

A noise shudders your ribs, something between a growl and a whine, and Touya laughs as if it’s so fucking cute, looking back down at you with so much adoration in his eyes it’s nearly spilling past his lashes.  

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, but his stare never breaks yours. “Thanks for the offer, though.” 

“Mr. Todoroki?” a smooth voice floats above the indistinct murmur of the venue. “Your table is ready.” 

“Ah, that’s us,” Touya says to you. 

“It was nice—”

But you’re already turning away, a single entity in the way you move, think, breathe, be. 

“I don’t like her,” you’re grumbling as Touya guides you toward the hostess, not caring that she’s still very clearly in earshot, the confession spilling from your mouth almost subconsciously, having pried past your lips, desperate to be heard. 

“I can tell, baby,” Touya snorts, though the smile on his face is soft. 

“I—I don’t even wanna eat here anymore,” you sulk, feet starting to drag, words filtered through a deep pout. “And I don’t ever want to see her again!” 

It comes out as a demand, a little harsher and firmer than you had intended, uncharacteristically surly, and Touya stops. 

Blinking down at you, Touya’s face falls, features suddenly serious, all mirth evaporated from his expression in an instant. 

His head dips, voice dropped to a low, dire murmur—something secret, something just for you.

“You want me to kill her for you? Huh, princess? Does niichan need to get rid of her?” 

And, oh, how your heart soars, swells, swoops then nearly bursts from your ribs, desperate to claw its way from your chest and into the palms of its owner. Tears rush to cloud your eyes, vision thick and bleary, and two large hands cup your jaw, tilting your face to his.

“I’ll do it, baby, I swear to God. All you gotta do is say the word.” 

He will. You know he will. You love that he will.

“I love you,” you nearly whimper, hands pawing at him urgently, the words a garbled mess in your mouth, weighted with spit and tears. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he laughs a little, but concern is warping his features, eyes sweeping across your face in search of an answer.

His hand squeezes your jaw gently, callouses decorating the pad of his palm scuffing your soft skin as he holds you in place. 

“Just tell niichan what he needs to do to make this better.”

Your gaze holds his for a moment, heavy and unblinking.

“Fuck me,” you finally say. “Remind me who I belong to, remind me who you belong to, remind the whole fucking world who we belong to.”

Sapphire turns to navy, lips spreading into something sinful. 

He can do that.

The parking lot is sparsely populated, rows of cars jagged and gapped like knocked out teeth. A small cluster of people hover outside the restaurant’s golden doors, encased in a hazy cloud of smoke and murmuring quietly amongst themselves, and a few people are scattered throughout the lot, just arriving or preparing to leave, but for the most part, you are alone. 

The Audi is parked near the back, narrowly missing a pool of white light from one of the tall lampposts. 

A chuckle is huffed from tattooed lips, shining eyes trained on your profile as you march toward the car, his long legs easily keeping up with your own. 

His baby is on a mission tonight. 

“You know, it’s really cute,” he’s saying as he presses you up against the driver’s door, “to see to see you so fucking determined.”

“Want everyone to know you belong to me,” you whine a little, forehead scrunching as your pout deepens. 

“Is that so?” 

“That is so.” 

“And how would you like to show everyone that niichan is yours?” he murmurs into your flesh, lips tracing the curve of your neck.

“Want—Want you to fuck me, right here.” 

“Right here?” his hips shove against yours in emphasis. “In the car?” 

“No,” your hips push back into his, back arching, already so needy for him. “Right here, in the parking lot. I want that bitch to see.”

And for once, you do not get scolded for such foul language. 

“Yeah?” Touya’s breathing into your mouth, hands already rucking up your little cocktail dress. “All out in the open where everyone can see how much of a little whore you are for your big brother?” 

“Right here, right here,” you’re nodding, words cracking with desperation. “Right now.” 

“So greedy, my little sister is.” 

“I don’t care,” you gasp. “Show them, Touya-nii, show them all.” 

And he’s so fucking hard you swear you can feel his cock throbbing with each rush of blood, each of your little pleads and dirty words sending another bout of it southward, swear you can feel it twitching and gorging with lust. 

“You don’t care, huh?” Hardened fingertips sink into the plush flesh of your ass, kneading a little as his hips gyrate in pitiful little circles, more teasing than anything else.

“No, no,” you’re shaking your head. “I want it now!” 

A palm collides with your flesh, hard and sharp, the sound echoing out among the space, chased by your resounding yelp. It draws a handful of glances from the throngs of people loitering around the restaurant’s entrance, but doesn’t keep their attention for long.

“Don’t be impatient, now,” Touya warns, but the glint in his eyes begs you to keep misbehaving. “Get my cock wet first.”

Your face falls as your fight fades, a small frown on your lips. 

“Wh-What?”

“You want my cock so badly, baby? Get it fucking wet, then.”

He pauses, watching you closely, smirk growing into something sinister when you freeze in hesitation.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending it scathes your cheeks. “Not so bold and brave now? I thought you wanted everyone to know; I thought you wanted to show everyone who I belong to,” his tongue tuts, head shaking in mock disappointment, “and you can’t even take my cock down your throat?”

“I do,” you nearly growl, eyes flashing with sudden jealousy, uncharacteristically fierce. 

His expression softens, that sharp glint in his eye dulled to a smoldering glow, full of fondness. 

“Then get niichan’s cock wet,” he says, hips shoving against yours in emphasis again, “so he can fuck you properly.”

And although it is still very much a demand, a direct order, his voice is tender, his edges worn down by years of affection.

Sliding down his body, your fingers furl in the waistband of his suit pants and tug a little, pulling his hips closer to your face. The buckle of his belt clanks heavily as you tug it undone, the button on his trousers pops easily, and then you’re yanking them halfway down his thighs, freeing his cock.

It’s so fucking pretty, dusty pink from base to tip and smoother than the most expensive velvet, and you just can’t help but nuzzle your cheek into the head with a cute little hum, smearing a thick stroke of pearlescent pre-cum across your skin. 

But you know that Touya doesn’t like that, no matter how beautiful you look with his pre-cum slathered all over your face, that Touya can’t stand anything he deems even remotely teasing, and you’re quick to wrap a hand around the shaft as the beginnings of a growl rumble against his ribs, feeding him to yourself. 

“S’it, there you go,” he praises as you gorge on him, stuffing him down your throat in a single swallow, reflexive tears burning your eyes. 

Lashes flutter quickly, desperate to clear your vision, little drops of crystal collecting in the wispy strands. 

It’s pathetic, really, how much your heart soars with such bland praise. But it doesn’t matter, you don’t care, willing to soak up any scraps he’ll afford you, an addict endlessly chasing a fix.

You force your mouth open wider, hinges of your jaw stretching, straining, your tongue curling around the underside as you suck him in further, viscous globs of drool already beginning to collect at the corners of your lips. 

“Yeah, yeah, swallow me whole, baby,” he breathes, gaping pupils glittering with a thin ring of cobalt. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”

A choked little whine, muted by his cockhead grinding itself into your throat, vibrates, evoking a cracked little moan of his own, hips twitching involuntarily, an instinctual reaction, searching for more.

The asphalt is rough against your knees, skinning them with superficial little scrapes as Touya fucks your mouth a few times; first slowly, breath huffed out through spit-slicked lips as he glides in steadily, inch by inch, voracious eyes watching as your wet mouth puckers around his shaft, coating it in thick, gleaming saliva.

He whimpers a little as the tip of your nose scrunches so cutely as he presses it to his pubic bone, holds it for a breath and savours the way your throat flutters with hiccups and gags before pulling nearly all the way from your mouth, repeating the process as he gains momentum; then faster, harder, cockhead rubbing against the back of your tongue, each quick stroke leaving bitter streaks of pre-cum.

And you hate how his palms are pressed against your ears, muffling every sweet sound you manage to elicit from him as he holds your head still, his thumbs pressing into your cheekbones, nails biting shallow crescents into the skin as they dig deeper, grasp tightening as your face becomes slippery with tears, cascading over his knuckles. 

Even so, his grip isn’t enough to keep the back of your skull from banging off the door of the Audi, each thrust procuring a dull thud of flesh against metal.

And, Christ, what a beautiful symphony it all creates; the rhythmic sound of your head thwacking against his car, the dainty jingle of his belt buckle, hanging heavy and undone and bouncing between your chin and his thigh, those precious gags and gurgles and sniffles and hiccups that he loves so much, choked off and snuffed out as his cock rams them back into your chest, the half-stifled sounds that keep shattering to pieces on his tongue, shards swallowed down with difficulty, scraping against the walls of his throat and leaving his voice ragged and raw. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” he’s panting as his fingers thread through your hair, fisting at the roots and dragging you off of him. “S’a shame, because you look so pretty,” a rough thumb skims over your swollen, glossy lip, his gaze following its trajectory. “But I wanna cum in your cunt, not your throat.” 

And then he’s pulling you back up from the ground, strong arms wedged beneath your own and hoisting you into the air, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist, locked securely at the ankles as they hook together at the base of his spine, thighs squeezing around his hips in anticipation. 

He pins you to the metal of the Audi, one palm securely cupping your ass as the other wraps around the base of his cock, hips inching back just enough to find your hole.

The head, now slicked with your spit, glides over your clit twice—a cheeky little tease, just to hear you whine his name again, all stringy and petulant through a swollen pout—then down your slit until it catches on your hole. 

It stings as he forces himself into you, always does no matter how wet you are, no matter how much you’ve slobbered all over his shaft, because Touya routinely refuses to prep you at all—not that you would’ve let him, not tonight—because he loves it, too, he loves it just as much as you do. 

He loves the sharp little hiss pushed through the gaps of your teeth by your tongue, he loves the gentle fluttering of your cunt as your most delicate skin stretches, splits itself open for him, to suck him in and swallow him down, he loves that sweet sigh that melts from your mouth as he bottoms out, slathered over his own huff of breath, conjoined relief. 

“Touya-nii, Touya-nii,” you’re whimpering out, fingers curling against his shoulders.

“M’here, baby, m’here,” he pants out, forehead pushing against your own, eyes slipped shut. 

And for a moment everything is still, breath held stagnant in swelling lungs as you both savour this feeling—of fullness, of closeness, of wholeness—appreciation unhindered by noisy exhales or slapping skin.

Then his hips are moving, gyrating in little circles that gain speed with each completed motion, cockhead grinding into your cervix.

He can’t exactly fuck you properly like this, can’t exactly fuck you like he wants to, like he normally would, not all out in the open like this.

But he manages to make do, the pace quick right from the start, shallow fast snaps of his hips that have the buckle of his belt is clanging against his car, leaving superficial little scratches just below the door handle.

It’s all still so fucking hot, though, his forehead pressed tightly to yours as he exhales nicotine-tinged breath across your face, each one pushed from his chest with the rapid little ruts of his hips. 

It’s all so fucking naughty, fucking out in the open where anyone who’s paying more than a shred of attention can see, his movements just barely hidden by the flesh of your thighs, cushioning his hips. 

The thought that anyone could be watching, touching themselves, filming you has your muscles tightening and your stomachs fluttering, the dirty, illicit nature inspiring another rush of adrenaline to taint your blood.

Your mouth drops open, starved for more of him—never satisfied, are you, greedy lil thing—welcoming his huffs onto your tongue, spicy and sweet as hickory. Your tongue unfurls from your mouth, dumb and lazy and so fucking messy, licking at his lips in quick, uneven strokes, sopping up any remnants of his essence.

The tip slithers between his parted lips, kittenishly lapping at the edges of his teeth, tracing the sharp ridges one by one, and he laughs, warm and airy. 

His own tongue shoves against yours, pushing it from his mouth and back into it’s rightful home before he flattens the slick muscle against your face and drags it, slow and steady, from the point of you chin to the tip of your nose, leaving behind a thick, fat trail of cooling saliva painted across your face.

The action has you squealing, scrunching up your nose as you involuntarily suck your bottom lip between your teeth and suck it clean.

His scent is strong, now saturating your skin as it dries, tight and hard, on your face, sealed by the breathless little giggle he exhales across your cheeks. 

And, Christ, he’s so fucking gorgeous, strands of alabaster plastered to his forehead and stuck to his temples in scraggly strings, clumped into damp little tufts that curl up at the base of his neck, drops of sweat balancing precariously on the points. 

His rough, quick movements have them breaking free, glistening drops of sweat rolling down his puckered skin, tracing the curve of his neck, streaking ink and ivory with glimmering little trails. They pool in the dips of his collarbones and soak into the collar of his shirt, turning cashmere translucent. 

The sleek muscles in his forearms flex beneath inked skin, gliding as he readjusts his grip, holds you closer, hugs you tighter, fucks you harder. 

His whole body is covered in a sheen layer of sweat, urgently chasing that high that only his little sister can gift him, sharp pistons of his hips keeping you pinned to the car while he uses you as his personal little toy, his favourite little toy, forcing you to just take it. 

And yet, despite it all, his eyes are bright, his lips molded into a brilliant smile, a sick sort of love stained with exhilaration—the thrill of getting caught: fucking all out in the open, fucking your family—brimming in his gaze.

He’s such a fucking pro, knows you and your body better than anyone else ever has, ever could, ever will, angling his hips so they fuck you just right, each stroke of his cock an upward curve, dragging against that puffy spot buried deep within your cunt, head swiping against your cervix with each draw back.

Across the lot, that girl is fiddling with the keys to her shitty little car, rooting around for something in her bag, and Touya laughs—a loud, booming sound, heavy with deranged delight that echoes throughout the space, garnering the attention of a smattering of bystanders. 

“Look,” he nudges his head to the right, your gaze following his own, slippery cheeks pressed flush together. “She’s watching. She can see you, sweetheart—can see us, can see you’re mine and I’m yours.” 

Good. If she hadn’t already figured it out before, it should be abundantly fucking obvious now, who he belongs to. 

“She—She looks disgusted,” you snicker. 

Even from several meters away, she does, you can tell, face twisted up somewhere between horror and shock, eyes wide and unblinking as they scan your conjoined forms, brow scrunched and chest beginning to heave.

She looks like she’s going to be sick.

You hope she is.

“Oh, she doesn’t even know—fuck—the half of it, does she?” Touya keens, hips faltering for just a moment before regaining their momentum. “Why don’t we give her something to really be repulsed by?” 

Yes, yes, yes, you’re nodding your head, little mewls of affirmation spilling from your throat.

“Give your big brother a kiss, then.” 

And oh, how eager you are, ever his good girl, ever his best girl, arms tightening around his neck as you pull yourself closer, smashing your lips to his. Dainty fingers thread through the hair at the back of his scalp, soaked with salt, and tug harshly, enough to have a reactionary hiss slipping through his teeth. 

Using the opportunity, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth between your teeth, clamp down hard and yank backwards, so hard his lip stretches like shimmering, pink bubblegum, gums beginning to strain until it finally slides free of your hold, teeth scraping against flesh. He spits out a curse, muddled and chased by a laugh, tongue laving over the indents you left, now weeping copper.

“Niichan’s gonna get you back for that one,” he says, sadistic glee shimmering in his eyes almost as pretty as the crimson glazing his mouth. 

You’re sure he will, too, later tonight, with that cherished knife you gifted him last year.

The giggle that pours past your lips is fucking raucous, leaves your tongue sticky and tingling, so wicked it rivals your brother. 

“I wanna show her, niichan,” you’re panting out, voice fading into a whine. “I want to show her that you’re mine.” 

“Do it, baby,” he breathes. “Show the whole world how fucking gorgeous you look cumming for your big brother.”

Three more rapid pumps of his hips and you’re convulsing around him, cunt clenching almost viciously around his cock as your heat gushes down his shaft, sticky and messy and so much, so much it pools in the folds of his heavy balls, so much it streams down his taut thighs and soaks the waistband of his trousers, so much it dribbles down the metal of the Audi, smeared across the door in sloppy strokes.

“Mi-Mine,” you growl, thighs squeezing around him as if you’re attempting to milk more juices from yourself, trying to stain him with you and stake your claim. 

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, hips beginning to stutter. “Yours, baby, niichan’s yours. Tell him again.” 

“You’re mine!” you sob out, nails gripping the sleek muscle of his shoulders with such strength the joints of your fingers crack and ache, clawing at him as if you’re trying to gorge every part of you on him, eat up every piece of him you can, stuff every bit of you as full of him as physically possible. 

“Fu-Fuck,” he keens, the curse shattering in his throat. “That’sa—That’s my good girl.”

He’s close now, you can tell; can hear it in the way his words keep splintering on his tongue, can feel it in the way his thrusts have gone from precise and particular to loose and sloppy, an urgent, uneven rutting of his hips.

“Fill me, fill me, fill me with your cock, niichan,” you’re gasping out, scrabbling at his neck, scraping skin and sweat beneath your nails. “Fill me with your cum, fill me so much, fill me until I can’t take anymore and it starts le-leaking out, all—all over the place.” 

And, well, he’s never been one to deny his precious baby sister what she wants. 

Because then he’s complying, hips stammering to a halt and pressed flush to your ass as his cock throbs, stuffing you full of thick, burning cream. 

“More! More, more,” you’re gasping out as you try to fuck yourself on his twitching cock, desperate to pump him for everything he’s got to give, eliciting a breathless, broken little laugh falling from his lips. 

“S’all yours,” he manages to slur out, slumping a little against his car, knees beginning to quiver as his cock strives to please you, giving another weak spurt of cum. “S’all yours, princess, always.” 

[blueberrymocha]

headcanons of the main 4 with reader who has a baby sibling or cousin or something and then they help take care of them please

main 4 when you have a baby sibling ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

┌──────────────────────────────────────┐

ׂ╰┈➤ fluff

➣ characters: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio

➣ word count:x

➣ a/n: july 22nd omg 😭

└──────────────────────┘

gon

- is the best friend type when taking care of them

- if they can speak, he’ll fulfill their requests to a T

- want to sit outside? he’s bringing them there

- want a different juice? he’s in the kitchen refilling it

- he’ll carry them on his shoulders, still holding onto them securely

- when they watch a cartoon, he’s just as immersed, giving commentary

- you won’t even need to worry about taking care of your sibling anymore

- because he’s fine on his own, especially if you have work or sleep you need to catch up on

- overall, the child totally loves him

- maybe a little more than you

killua

- he hates children (anyone younger than him)

- alluka is the sole exception, even after meeting your sibling

- because they just don’t click with him

- he tried to be sort-of-friendly at first, but they just kept crying and looking at you

- he tells you how he tried to approach them with a toy and they just snatched it rudely

- but when you look over at the baby, sucking its thumb cutely,

- there’s no way you believe killua

- he’ll just sit or stand next to you while you play with them

- rolling his eyes every time you praise or cuddle the little monster

- overall, your sibling isn’t very fond of him

kurapika

- we’ve seen how he is with woble

- the utter peace and innocence of a child is one of the most relaxing things to him

- at the same time, he feels unequipped to take care of one

- so you’ll probably handle most of the interactions while he watches with a small smile

- and he entirely prefers it this way, because the thought of you with a baby is one he loves to entertain

- whenever you need a bottle, baby food, toys, etc

- he’s already gotten it and brought it to you before you can ask

- overall, your sibling’s pretty neutral about him

- they don’t really notice if he’s there or not, neither do they care

leorio

- secretly loves taking care of children

- so while he’ll grumble when you ask him to babysit with you,

- he switches up completely when he sees a giggly baby

- is very attentive and responsible

- you two would probably watch a movie while your sibling rests in his arms

- by the end of the day, he tells you nonchalantly to call him whenever you need a babysitter

- but you know that’s code for “i want to hang out with them again soon.”

- overall, your sibling loves him

[augustghosts]

Stewy Hosseini x female reader

A classic tale of fucking your ex at your friends wedding. We’ve all been there, I think.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ pls, minors will be blocked! Not proofread which is defo a warning, lmk if you spot anything ive missed. Smut. Oral f!recieving and protected pinv. Alcohol and drugs are mentioned slightly.

Little authors note sorry: Hey everyone i am actually alive lol. 5 months later i return writing for someone new… not out of character for me. I watched succession for the first time recently (late asf to the party i know) and i read some amazing stewy fics so i thought i’d add my piece because i’m obsessed with him. Sorry to all my tommy miller babes on here, i swear i tried writing for him again but my inspiration for tommy fics seems to have gotten lost. I really struggled when i tried finishing my half way done tommy series lol. But when i started writing this one it just floooowed and i finished it in like a few hours. Maybe my tommy love will come back someday but for now…. This. Hope someone out there enjoys lol <3

You’ve felt eyes on you all night. Everywhere you go you end up meeting his eyes across the room. Eveytime you look over at him, he’s already looking. He should be the one that's embarrassed, you’ve caught him looking at you multiple times, but you’re always the one who ends up looking away first and feeling your skin heat with the embarrassment of being caught. While he shamelessly stares at you over the rim of his glass, that awful fucking smirk gracing his lips and he watches you squirm. Honestly, it’s kinda creepy. And you almost hope he approaches you so you can tell him that.

Towards the end of the night he starts to close in, starts inching closer to you. He starts making conversation with the people around you, people at the bar next to you, and eventually your friends. Asking them how they are, how it’s been such a long time. Then, he finally gets to you. He takes his time looking you over before he speaks and you’re determined not to be the first one to talk, so you let him stare. Both of you standing in silence for a few seconds before he finally speaks.

“You look great.”

”Thanks.” Keeping it simple seems safe. You want to tell him he looks good too because fuck, he does. He always does. He notices your eyes drifting over his suit and tie and he chuckles.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Uhm,” He trails off - pretends to think. “I’m at a fucking wedding, and i’m enjoying myself.”

”Yeah?” You ask, he nods in agreement. The way his eyebrows raise tells you he’s still being sarcastic, still mocking you. “Watching my every move all night is how you enjoy yourself?”

“Actually, yes.” He confirms. “Watching you squirm all night was pretty fun.”

”I wasn’t.” You attempt to defend yourself, downing your drink. “I was just-“

“I’ll get you another.” He cuts you off, snatching your glass out of your hand - not even bothering to ask. You almost try to protest, but you don’t see the point. You know him too well, you know how stubborn he is, once he gets an idea it’s hard for him to let it go. If the idea he’s got tonight is paying for your drinks, then so be it - who were you to complain. You sit down on the stool next to you, watching as Stewy makes the bartender laugh as he orders your drinks. You're kind of pissed that you still can’t figure him out sometimes, you know him better than most people - maybe better than anyone, but he still confuses you. It has been a while since you last saw him, but you conclude that he hasn’t changed much.

When he comes back with your drinks he puts yours down in front of you and asks: “Still your favorite?”

You nod, kind of pissed that he got it right. You try to convince yourself that he didn’t actually remember that small detail. That he’s just been watching you order them all night during your staring competition.

“So, how’s your family?” You ask, cringing at how lame you sound. You just don’t want to let him start a conversation you don’t want to have.

He smiles, because he knows what you're doing. “They’re fine. I still don’t see them much, but they’re good.”

”You’re still too busy to see your family?” You joke.

“Mhm,” His smile almost looks genuine as you joke with each other. “I’m always busy.”

“Busy stealing people's money?”

He laughs then, a genuine laugh that makes you laugh as well. God, you don’t want to admit that you missed him. But everyone else just seems so boring after him, you’ve never found the same thing you’d had with him with anyone else.

“You never really understood business did you?” He laughs.

“I understand perfectly.”

“Sure,” He agrees. “I explained it to you enough times.”

“Yeah, and bored me to death.”

”Is that why you broke up with me?”

His question completely catches you off guard and you almost choke on your drink. You almost want to ask him if he purposefully said that while you were taking a sip, but you’re too busy trying to supress your coughing.

“Jesus, it was just a question.” Stewy laughs at you again, his warm hand coming to rest on your back as he watches you almost choke.

“Fuck you.” You say pointedly, after getting yourself back under control. ”You know why we broke up. Also, I broke up with you?”

”You did.”

“Stewy, it was amicable.”

“Was it?” His face goes serious again and you instantly miss the sound of his laugh. You just sigh, taking another sip of your drink. This was exactly the conversation you didn’t want to have.

“I thought you said you were enjoying yourself,” You say after a few moments of silence. “Don’t ruin it now.”

”I lied.” He says. “I always hated those two, I can't believe they actually got married.”

”Match made in hell.” You agree, both of you laugh softly again.

“You know I also lied earlier when I said you looked great.” He says, surprising you. You brace yourself for whatever joke he’s going to make about you, you shouldn't have pissed him off, he can get mean when he’s pissed off. It’s not his fault, it’s just his defense mechanism - but nevertheless you brace yourself for his comment - and he surprises you again by saying: “You look fucking incredible.”

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. You opt for another sip of your drink instead and he watches you in amusement.

“I only came because I hoped you would be here,” He continued. You still can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, that damned smirk on his face makes you think he’s making fun of you, but those big brown eyes look so sincere.

“Stewy, stop.” You sigh.

“Come on, baby.” He murmurs, he leans forward in his chair and places his hand on your knee. The nickname makes you tense up. Makes a familiar heat spread through you. “Let me get you another drink and take you up to my room.”

Fuck. He’s fucking good at this, and he knows it. He knows exactly how to get you. You’re trying to think, but the alcohol and the way his thumb is rubbing your knee is clouding your mind. He waits patiently, watching as you look down at his hand and back up to his face. Your eyes stop at his lips before meeting his gaze.

“Alright,” You say, you swear you can actually see his eyes light up. “Go get me another drink and show me your room. Then I'll decide.”

“You got it.” He grins and practically jumps out of his seat. When he returns he holds out his hand to help you off your stool, the heels you decided to wear and the drinks weren’t a good match. He hands you your drink, although you don’t really want it now. His hand finds its place on the small of your back and a fire lights up somewhere inside of you. His touch feels so familiar - comforting. He leads you out of the bar and to the elevators. Punching in the right number before the doors close, leaving you both alone in the small space. It suddenly feels too quiet.

You want to touch him, but once again you don’t want to be the one to make the first move. You don't want him to know how desperate you are for him, although you think he already knows. He’s watching you in silence, his eyes dark and wanting. A look you’ve seen a million times before - a look that makes you excited. The elevator ride is short, Stewy isn’t the type to kiss you in an elevator, and you know that, so you’re not disappointed when the doors open and he hasn’t touched you or said a word.

He gestures for you to leave first, putting his hand on the door so they don’t close on you, or him. Some people would find this strange, the silence, but it’s a game you’ve both played with each other before. A game you both enjoy. He guides you to his room with a hand on your back, just like before. When he unlocks the door and opens it for you, you suppress a gasp. As usual, Stewy needs to have the best of the best. The bride and groom's room probably isn’t even this nice. They probably couldn’t afford it - Stewy can.

“Well?” His voice sounds from behind you.

“Hm?”

”What do you think? You said you would decide when you saw the room. Is it good enough for you?”

”Uhm,” You pretend to think as you set your drink down on the dresser, turning around to dramatically inspect the room. It earns a playful eye roll from Stewy. He knows what impresses you and he knows he already has you. He already had you down at the bar.

“I think it’s okay.” You conclude, turning to face him. He hums in sarcastic agreement, looking you up and down. He’s playing the game again, who is going to end it first. Who is going to lose. You don’t like losing, and neither does he. But honestly, haven’t you already lost? He has you in his room for christ sake. He has you standing in front of him, already dripping and all he’s done is touch your leg a little and look at you the right way. So you put aside your pride and step towards him, you bring your hands up to his cheeks and roughly bring his face down to your, finally connecting your lips.

His hands immediately find their home at your hips, pulling you tightly against him. The kiss immediately turns from an innocent kiss to a hungry and passionate one, his tongue dominating your mouth. You both know each other's bodies so well, there's no need for taking it slow or asking questions.

“Fuck, Stewy.” You sigh as he backs you towards the bed, gently setting you down and climbing over you. Kissing every inch of your skin.

“God, I missed that.” He groans, marveling over the way you sigh his name. “I missed you, baby. I can admit it. I want you so badly.”

You moan softly at his words, at the way his lips feel on your neck - at how right this feels. You had missed him too. He catches you off guard when he pulls away to ask, ”Have you been fucking other people?”

“Sorry?” You giggle, “Why are you asking me that now?”

”Have you?” He presses.

“I ju- maybe.” You stutter, already missing his lips.

”Maybe?”

”I know you’ve been fucking as well.” You accuse, suddenly defensive. You push yourself up onto your elbows, despite still being trapped underneath him.

“Yeah, I have.” He says coolly.

“So?” You ask, irritated. Why was he doing this?

“So, none of them were as good as you.” His words earn an eye roll from you. “Nothing can compare to this pussy.” He adds, his hand sliding down to roughly grip your thigh and bring it over his waist. Oh, shit. His half hard cock is pressing perfectly against your pussy in this new position, the material of your dress and his suit pants keeping you apart. “And, i bet none of those guys fucked you the way i do.” One of his hands comes up to grip your chin, his other keeping him above you. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he asks, “Did they?”

“No.” You practically squeak. “None of them were like you. No one is like you, Stewy.”

You’re not even lying, after having sex with Stewy for so long nothing compared. You had gotten accustomed to a man who knew what he was doing, to a man who was generous in bed. You had gotten used to a man who could make you cum. No one had achieved that after him. Your answer obviously pleases him, he grins and leans down to kiss you again.

He ends the kiss and stands up leaving you spread out on the bed, you whine underneath him, chasing for more. He ignores you and slips off his suit jacket. He makes a show of undoing the top button of his shirt and loosening his sleeves in order to push them up to his elbows. Fuck, he looks so good. You almost want to tell him, but you don;t need to. He can see the way you're watching him, that look in your eye. He knows what you look like when you’re turned on - and this is it. He grabs your thighs and pushes your dress up to your waist, getting a good look before sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder somewhere.

“I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve, baby. I know what you need. I can’t wait to taste you.” He rambles as you whimper in anticipation, he presses a kiss to your ankle as he watches you buck your hips.

He has his mouth on you before you can respond. Just as you remember, he is painfully and infuriatingly good at it. He still eats pussy like it's his second nature. He still looks up at you through his gorgeous lashes as he traces your clit with his tongue. He has to hold back from grinning against you as you writhe and whimper. He groans as you sigh his name and run your hand through his hair. You remember how much you love it when he’s like this, when he's animalistic and loses his composure.

Your legs tighten around his head as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. It’s fucking embarassing how quickly you barrel towards your climax, but it has been a while. And no one else devours you like this, no one else is this good. You should have expected it. He recognizes it immediately, breaking away from you for a second to speak.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

“Yes! Please, Stew.” You moan, your hands grabbing at his hair attempting to push him back down. He smiles wickedly, licking his lips as he watches you.

“God, I love it when you beg for me.” He mumbles before diving back in, allowing you to push his head down and maneuver him.

"Please make me come," you groan, arching your back. “I'm so close, don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t stop, he continues to lap at you and work you though your orgasm as you come against his mouth. His beard delightfully scratches your sensitive skin, leaving behind a delicious burning feeling. He’s painfully hard now, after watching you come and hearing you moan his name. You begin to push at his head when you come down, usually he would tease you a little now, knowing how sensitive you are and make the most of it. But he’s so fucking desprate for you, he has been all night. He’s been dreaming about being inside of you for hours now.

He’s instantly on his feet, undoing his belt and undressing. You follow suit, weakly sitting up - doing the best your legs can do when they feel like jelly, you lift your dress over your head and throw it on the floor with his clothes. He’s climbing back on top of you, kissing you hungrily. His lips and chin are still wet with your juices and you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his lips.

“How do you want me?” You ask breathlessly, fully prepared to submit to him- to do whatever he asks.

“Fuck,” He groans at your words, having to pause for a second. “Can you turn over for me?”

You smile, leaning up to kiss him one more time before turning over and crawling to the middle of the bed, pushing yourself up onto your knees and holding yourself up on your elbows, so your back is deliciously arched the way you know he likes. You grin as you hear him groan behind you, his hand petting your ass before he delivers a light slap to it. He steps away from you and you hear the rustling of a condom wrapper, did he have that in his fucking pocket? His words from earlier repeat in your head, ‘I only came because I hoped you would be here.’

“Plese fuck me, Stewy.” You moan softly, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I need you.”

”How bad?” He teases. The head of his cock is ever so slightly pressing against your entrance, he’s hardly holding back as he waits for your answer, pushing in slightly.

“So bad,” You sigh, pushing back on him so he slips easily inside of you. You both moan loudly, you love that he’s so loud and shameless in bed. He stays still once he’s bottomed out.

“Yeah?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Yes! Please move. I need to be fucked properly, only you can do it.”

The sound he makes behind you is heavenly, you knew that would work. He pulls out of you before pushing back in slowly. He always does this, he starts slow and then builds up to a bruising pace. All you can do is whimper beneath him and beg for him to fuck you faster. Your pussy sucks him in greedily, his cock pushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust.

“You take me so fucking well. Like you were fucking made for me.” His voice is deep and raw.

”I think I am,” You moan. “You feel so fucking good!”

“Are you gonna come for me again, sweetheart? Gonna soak my cock?”

All you can do is furiously nod your head and moan beneath him, the sounds of your pussy squelching as he fucks you is almost embarassing. You don’t have time to think about it because he’s pulling out of you and gently flipping you over onto your back. He lifts your legs and rests his knees on the bed, throwing your feet over his shoulders and he leans over you. He guides his cock back into you and dives down to kiss you, his tongue pushing past your lips in a messy kiss. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths, not minding when your teeth momentarily clack together.

“Come on gorgeous,” He groans, he’s breathless - pressing kisses to your face between his words. You can tell he’s close too. “Come for me. Squeeze my cock. Let me fucking have it.”

He feels you tighten around him as you come, his name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer. Your hands tightening around his neck, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, that’s it. You look so beautiful, baby.” He talks you through it, still fucking you as you come around him.

“Oh my god,” You moan. “Come inside of me, Stewy.”

You know he’s wearing a condom, but the dirty talk is hot. He thinks so too, because that's all it takes for him to come. His head is buried in your neck, his teeth biting into the soft skin under your ear. No doubt leaving a mark, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now all you can think about is how hot he sounds when he comes, you love that he isn’t quiet, that he isn’t afraid to groan your name into your neck.

He stays still for a second, lifting his head and kissing you - gently this time, before he pulls out. You rest for a minute while he discards the condom. You hear rustling and sniffing while he’s in the bathroom and you almost want to yell out to him - this is why we broke up. But you ignore it, getting up from the bed and breezing past him as he leaves the bathroom. You close the door behind you, taking the hotel robe off the back of the door and cleaning yourself up, doing what you need to do. You wonder if you should shower, but decide you should probably go back to your own room to do that.

When you leave the bathroom he’s sitting in the bed under the covers, the tv remote in his hand. Your dress and underwear have been picked up and folded on the chair beside the bed. It makes you smile, how can someone be so thoughtful but so selfish at the same time. That’s why you broke up, you need to keep reminding yourself.

“So, I guess I'm gonna go back to my own room.” You say as you gather your things. You’re on your way back to the bathroom with your clothes when he speaks up.

“Okay,” He says, respecting your decision. “Why?”

”Why?” You repeat, stopping your tracks. “Don’t you want me to go?”

”No. I want you to watch tv with me.”

”Seriously?” You laugh before you realize he’s being serious.

“Yeah, seriously.” His face is impassive, and hard to read. But you can’t resist those big brown eyes and you drop your clothes back onto the floor and slip into bed with him.

“Hey,” He whines as he looks at your dress. “I picked that up and folded it for you and you just threw it on the floor again.”

“Sorry, how rude of me.” You laugh at the mock pout on his face. You’ve sat pretty far away from him and he eyes the space between you.

“Come here.” He says lifting up his arm so you can cuddle into his side. God, you shouldn’t be doing this, you should have left. But he smells good and this bed is so comfortable.

“Will you stay the night here?” He asks quietly

”I shouldn’t.” You sigh.

“I know.” He agrees.

Of course you end up staying the night, Stewy is very convincing. With his promise of round two and a warm shower in the morning, it’s hard to resist. He also promises an expensive breakfast after the shower, but he says, ‘only if you behave yourself.’ You spend the whole night talking and laughing with him. Not only is he the best fuck you’ve ever had, he’s also the funniest person on earth. He’s got the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen but he’s also the biggest assole you’ve ever met. He’s so confusing, but that night you decide that maybe taking a little more time to try and figure him out won’t be so bad - only time will tell.

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Hello!!

I'm a bit new to the asking game, but I have a headcanon request! What if the Stardust Crusaders met the daughter of DIO, who had a bright and extremely sweet personality with a stand who has techomagic abilities (able to create advance technology, extended knowledge in technology). I apologize if this doesn't make sense! This would be platonic btw!

— 🧠 Anon!

I think I have a grasp of what to write for this ask finally. Darling is still a child of DIO it’s just that makes my title even wordier than it already is. Decided to do one character per bullet point btw

Platonic! Yandere! Stardust Crusaders w/ a technomagic stand darling.

You’re likely a huge help on the technological/engineering side of things for the crusaders. If you met them right at the start of trying to find DIO. Your first observation is probably akin of “Mr. Joestar you know you probably don’t need to break that expensive camera to use your stand right?”. Before long you have it repaired and ready to go, Joseph is wildly impressed and is quickly endeared to you. There is at least also one instance of him asking about fiddling around with a vending machine (for science of course), to maybe get something a little extra.

Avdol can see the trouble coming with you and Mr. Joestar a mile a way. Your eagerness towards technology is commendable and a little worrying if you get too caught up. Which is pretty often, and Joseph tends to be an enabler when it comes to anything he finds cool. He personally loves it himself but does his best to be your guide. He’s the one to most likely sit next to you in whatever transportation you’re in, it’s almost stifling but you barely notice most likely as you keep yourself entertained. There is quite a few times he does let you “loose” to do your thing, just because he enjoys your company so much.

Kakyoin is a bit more reserved in his reactions, the biggest thing that lures him to you is how well you utilize your stand in much of the technology you all run into. If you happen to bring up games out of boredom, his interest is piqued as you likely explain how you fixed a perfectly good console that was thrown in the trash. You tell him some people just don’t understand there’s things worth saving and there’s usually a fix that perfectly restores it. His feelings deepen when you tell him you believe him with the Death 13 fight. His hands are almost shaking, (In this scenario he is very likely to become a romantic yandere pretty quickly)

Polnareff bounces off your personality pretty easily, likes asking you a ton of questions and you manage to answer just about every one of them. He’d just wish you would relax a little bit and enjoy the smallest bit of relaxation (as you can when getting constantly chased by enemy stand users). So he usually nudges you with some kind of treat or even just doing something casually where it doesn’t seem that your brain is running on full power constantly. There’s a dozen times he’s even carrying you up the stairs, you deserve it. You saved his skin so he certainly has to return the favor. (This Frenchman would also be likely to end up a romantic yandere)

Jotaro is one who comes in when things go a little too far, especially if gramps or Polnareff are going what he considers over board, so if he wants to be around you he will find a way to do so. Not that he doesn’t occasionally indulge your tinkering with a little thunk to something with either his strength or Star Platinum’s. He definitely tells you to go to bed when you’re up too late for his liking while on the trip. Don’t ask why or how he got in your room, or even ponder if he was outside of your door guarding you. He can handle himself even if he is a bit hypocritical with some advice. Speaking of he is quick to tell you to lower your use of your stand, keeping it hidden so no potential danger catches everyone off guard. Especially when you’ve helped him out with Wheel of Fortune and Strength. He does let some of his eccentricities out with you and the others when it feels reasonable. But he’s still keeping one eye open at all times when he can.

If anyone’s wondering if there’s any worry about you being the daughter of DIO, I’d like to think Avdol was the one to keep an eye on you for trustworthiness before anything happened. (Even if none of them knew you were his daughter).

[kanatamour]

hi tora!! another blog, another request from me~ today im hoping for headcanons "how do they act when they have a crush and how would they manage to confess" with nayuta, kanata, reo & hajun!! i don't know how many characters you do at the time, so if that's too much just nayuta & kanata are nice!! thank you so much hehe <3

THIS IS MY LOVE.

Because ‘I love you’ is written in every single one of his actions, but he needs to tell you properly.

ft. Yatonokami Nayuta, Yatonokami Kanata, Maruyama Reo, Hajun Yeon x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, love confessions, some angst.

Hello, Jules, dear and thank you so much for sending in another request here ! I’m sorry this took a while, but I still hope you enjoy it and that it can make you smile <3 I ended up making it in time before the year ends, so happy new year !

ଓ YATONOKAMI NAYUTA

“You came along, and my heart smiled. So, get rid of those doubts, my love, I’ve been waiting for you.”

— With Nayuta, you realize he’s in love because of his smile.

— His usually apathetic, even melancholy expression, is replaced by an upwards curve to his lips, brimming in a sweetness that is hard to place.

— To anyone who deigns to observe where his iridescent eyes keep looking, they’d find you at the end of the lane.

— It is easy to see, when you two are together. His gaze is a little brighter, that difference that makes you discern dusk from dawn; he seems more energized, the lilt to his voice a tad more upbeat, particles of sundust shining in the words he addresses to you.

— And perhaps everyone notices, and Nayuta hopes you do too.

— And maybe you already have, but alas, fear seems to follow humans in crucial moments, confusing the heart, leading it through twisting alleys that echo the unsavory sounds of ‘what if’.

— What is it’s just all in your head. What if you’re overthinking and reading the signs the wrong way.

— The sighs he lets out, alone, in the dead on night are the unheard confirmation that his feelings for you are real.

— And yet, miles separate you, each of you lying on your side in the blue light of a faded moon.

— But, as they say, every cloud has a silver lining.

— Nayuta just will have to tell you directly, then.

— Or rather, show you.

— You find yourselves on the topmost floor of his secret hideout, the sun casting in coppery hues the thousands of piled up buildings below; a beautiful contradiction, how the slums had a beauty to them at golden hour.

— But so did your moments with Nayuta.

— You found him, the one you hold most dear. It didn’t matter if it was in a place this world had forgotten.

— Because you could never forget Yatonokami Nayuta.

— Nor the kiss he gives you when you turn towards him at the call of your name.

— You can taste the remaining sweetness of the popsicle he was just eating as his hands land on either side of you, stabilizing himself when he leans in further.

— And because there is no way your mind is making up the cool softness of his lips on yours, you kiss him back, hands cradling his cheeks, strands of silken moonshine reflected on puddles after the rain tickling your fingers.

— “Is it clear now, that I like you, my cute [Y/n]?” Nayuta utters, in the sunset lit instants between his kiss and the second one you initiate as an answer.

— You don’t trust your voice right now, so you’ll speak in the language lovers do when words are superfluous.

— And you can be sure, he’ll be asking for more.

ଓ YATONOKAMI KANATA

“Your petals were bloodied amidst the storm and you still shined. When I next realized, I was the thorns, and you, the only rose.”

— Kanata doesn’t know what is it he feels for you.

— And what’s more, he doesn’t know why.

— Weren’t you another one of those rich brats to begin with? It was your fault that day you were in trouble in the rain, being robbed by some troublemakers.

— And yet, the moment you resisted to give them your pocket money and one of the attacker’s hands closed around your wrist, something in Kanata snapped.

— He doesn’t know how, or the reason behind which he found himself throwing punches until those bastards were running away.

— But he knew he didn’t like the sight of the cut they somehow managed to land on your cheek.

— “Thank you for that, but are you okay?” You asked him, checking for bruises on your nameless savior.

— You are the one bleeding and yet, you ask him that.

— “You shouldn’t be here.” Kanata spats, turning away.

— “Wait! What’s your name?” You asked, running to catch up with him.

— He ‘tsks’. Why can’t he leave you alone in the rain? Why does the sight of blood running down a stranger’s face sit so wrong with him?

— Annoyed, he drapes his jacket over your head.

— “You don’t want to know.” Are the last words he tells you, before running off.

— You stand there, dumfounded, the boy’s hoodie shielding you from the rain.

— You’ll be back here tomorrow.

— The sky dyes in shades of peach and lavender, reminding you of the sweet scent of spring. Ironic, in such a cold evening, and even more so in this district.

— You have a feeling you’ll find him again, so you wait. His jacket is neatly folded over your lap, as a stray kitten rubs itself against your leg.

— Then you spot him. Short sleeved t-shirt on, hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants.

— “Put this on, at least!” You call, throwing him his jacket. “Catch!”

— Eyes not unlike the color of the sky widen at the sight of you again.

— “Thank you for yesterday, whatever your name is.” You softly tell the young man, reaching where he stands with the small cat in your arms.

— It meows at him. Extending one of its paws.

— “See? He wants to know your name too!” You pout, holding one of the kitten’s white paws in your hand.

— “Ugh fine! It’s Kanata, okay?”

— “Nice to meet you, Kanata.” You giggle, as the cat paws at your hero’s face.

— And somehow, the way you call his name… It’s pleasant, a sweet melody shining in a world of gray.

— He wants to see you again.

— So, next time, he’s the one to seek you out.

— You always meet at the same place; the street where the white kitten lives. Sometimes it goes home with Kanata, though, and others you bring him to your apartment.

— Time is fleeting, and days become months, with December snow fading to rays of February sun, auguring an early spring.

— And then one day, Kanata isn’t there.

— You wait, with your cat friend, who meows sadly at you, climbing on your lap when the first tears begin to fall.

— That evening you leave, matching cups of ramen left to the freeze of a lonely night.

— However, someone saw this hurtful scene.

— “Care to explain yourself?” Nayuta asks his brother, slamming the door behind him.

— Kanata turns slightly around. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

— “Oh, you… You know very well. Why didn’t you go today?”

— To which Kanata shrugs.

— “Fine. I hope you know they left crying.” His younger twin points out. “Will you just face your feelings and accept you’re in love and that they love you?”

— “That’s…” Kanata’s shoulders slump. “They deserve better…”

— “Silly!” His brother intercepts, with a soft flick to his forehead. “And what? They want you. So you better get it together and go find them now!”

— And well, for some reason, Kanata doesn’t need to be told twice.

— Luckily for him, a small friend is there to help.

— Following the kitty, they both manage to locate you.

— “[Y/n]! Wait!” The boy who saved you that night calls, putting a hand on your shoulder.

— “What do you want, Yatonokami?” You ask, tone cold, without turning around.

— It hurts him. The way he’s hurt you, the way you won’t face him, the way you use his last name instead.

— “I’m sorry. I just… I’m stupid, okay? I couldn’t come to terms with- the thing is- I… I… Oh, to hell with it! I like you, okay? And I just didn’t know how to act around you or what to do and I thought you deserved better and so I just stood you up and I messed up.”

— A chuckle is definitely not the answer he was expecting.

— “You are cute when you blush, Kanata.” You murmur, wiping away a stray tear, smiling sweetly at him.

— “I’m not-“ He starts, cheeks blooming in crimson roses.

— “I said it’s cute. You are cute.”

— Droplets of thin rain begin to fall.

— “I like you too, if that wasn’t obvious.” You softly say, with a kiss to his cheeks.

— Much like the night you met, rain surrounds you. This time, it’s his cheek that burns, not because an open wound, but because of the searing sensation of a kiss he won’t forget.

ଓ MARUYAMA REO

“What is the point for a rainbow to hide? Let’s write our love in the sky.”

— Reo is a cutie and he definitely has a way with flirting.

— So that’s exactly what he does.

— He is not shy about it in the slightest, often complimenting you on your new clothes, telling how sweet you are or giving you hugs out of nowhere.

— Of course, all of the above, always that you are comfortable; Reo is very cheerful, but he knows how to read your emotions and pick up what you like and dislike.

— And at first, you didn’t think much of it. Sure, he is very affectionate with you, but he is with everyone else too, right? It’s not like you are receiving special treatment.

— Which, in turn, frustrates Reo more.

— Is he doing something wrong? He’s being pretty obvious, right?

— Or maybe… you don’t feel the same way?

— No, no, no, he can’t fall into negativity.

— He has to take you to a nice date and tell you how he feels directly.

— So, he puts together some money he’s been saving and chooses his cutest outfit. This is a special occasion and he wants to make you happy.

— When you arrive at the accorded spot, Reo is already waiting for you.

— Sure, he is a sunshine, but you didn’t expect an amusement park date, seeming how he and his gang usually preferred to hang out at the ramen place.

— “Hello, [Y/n]!” He greets you, those eyes of his mirroring the sunset clouds lining the horizon. “I got cotton candy hehe. One for you and one for me!”

— You take the sweet treat from him, eyes sparkly at the delicious sugary scent wafting around you.

— “Woaah! It looks so tasty! You’re the best Reo…” You thank him.

— And maybe, just maybe, because this is a date, you leave a cotton candy kiss on his cheek, giggling at the pink remnants left behind.

— To which the boy grins mischievously, bringing his fingers to it and tasting the sugary treat.

— “Hmm… Your kiss was sweeter…” He ponders, as your cheeks heat up. “What if we repeat it, properly this time?”

— And at that moment, beneath the lighting of dusk and attractions, your lips touch for the first time; a memory written over cottony clouds in rosey glaze.

— “I love you, pretty.” Reo utters, nose brushing against yours, when he parts.

— “I love you too, Reo.” Are your words, before you initiate a second kiss.

— Little did you two know, Iori and the rest of the gang are looking from afar, proud of his youngest member (Suiseki is a little jealous, but that’s another story).

ଓ HAJUN YEON

“I’ll erase the piercing words that were etched into your soul that day.”

— This man’s way of flirting is teasing you (change my mind).

— With his fans, he is all smiles and charming phrases, but when he really loves you, you get to see a more… naughty side of him.

— When he teases you, he doesn’t do it out of malice, no.

— He’s been hurt in the past, and even if his infatuation with you grows by the day, a part of him is still afraid he’ll be discarded again.

— The words ‘you are not needed anymore’ still resound inside his mind, no matter how much he smiles or tries to look perfect on the outside.

— So he’s wary of diving into a new relationship.

— But at the same time, you are so lovely… The way you pout when he’s teasing you, or how you call him and wave at him whenever you see him at uni…

— Hajun would really like to spend more time with you.

— “You should.” Anne tells him, when they finally get Hajun to spill the beans. “I know you’re afraid to trust but… Isn’t it lonely, to keep the one you love at a distance?”

— It is, yes.

— It’s painful if he stays away. And the variant of getting hurt hangs in the air if he tries to get closer.

— But, as they say, ships were not made to stay at harbor.

— So he’ll take this chance and hope for the best.

— And for that, you know he’ll use his charm.

— A cute cafe date here; dinner at his place that he cooked himself using organic ingredients there; and of course, the occasional expensive gift you had been eyeing, mysteriously arriving at your doorstep.

— You like all of this, and especially, you like him.

— However, a part of you can’t help but wonder: what does he want with me? What does he get out of all of this?

— With those thoughts, you lie in bed, listening to his music in the new noise canceling headphones you’re sure he’s bought for you.

— You’re so not sleeping tonight. Maybe tomorrow you’ll ask him about what ‘ulterior’ motives he has.

— The model’s vibrant eyes widen slightly behind his glasses when you utter the question.

— “Why me, Hajun? What are you planning?”

— It hurts him. How it seems he’s not the only one with trust issues here.

— So that’s how you think of it. Some kind of twisted game he’s playing to get something out of you.

— “I’m serious here, Hajun.” You insist, tone stern, when all the answer he gives you are the subtle expressions of his face.

— And for once, he decides to be honest. No mask of perfection obscuring the words he next speaks.

— “Because I’ve fallen in love with you, [Y/n]. Because I was afraid to trust, to be left behind, thrown away. But then you came around. And I wanted to spend more time with you. This is no game, not one that I plan on ending anyway.” He whispers that last part to your ear, a knowing smile on his lips as he feels the heat on your cheeks.

— “Hajun… You… You mean that?”

— “More than anything.” He vows, placing a kiss to the back of your hand, the one adorned with the set of silver rings he gifted you, never once breaking eye contact.

— Your fingers slot in between his. You suppose it’s alright to let your heart take command and test the waters.

— After all, you can’t keep denying you’ve been in love with him since the beginning, too. You just never thought he’d end up reciprocating.

[ms-scarletwings]

So there was a note under my post about Zim hovering a finger over the self destruct switch on his first day on Earth that just cracked open something in my mind.

Cause…Oh. Oh hecc you, @murhuedur. You actually touched on like, my favorite thing about this character, period. I really like this take, I do. It’s a good one. I ponder, still,

In my own opinion, it’s actually genuine confidence and arrogance, but Zim’s delusions of grandeur are as a thin rubber band. They can stretch out to wild lengths and remain malleable enough to bend around truth as he wills,

But there’s a hard limit out there eventually, and should reality require him to stretch his cognitive dissonance just too far, it’s a violent snap-back to full clarity. I don’t think he’s faking it or always lying to everyone else about what hot shit he is, because I think he fully believes those lies about as fast as he can speak them, even if he will later realize he was wrong after a cosmic punch to the face.

Like, Zim’s smart, but smart people aren’t inherently rational ones. Within Zim, the tallest, hell, maybe even Skoodge, there’s sometimes this very short-sighted flippancy about what is objectively true/false that peeks out every now and again in their psychology. I mean, humans sometimes do this too when it’s convenient to their interests, just, obviously not to goofy cartoon character levels if they want to function in society.

Zim has whatever this flaw is and cranked up to 11, maybe as a side effect of his PAK defects. Sometimes it gets him into DEEP shit, but it’s also his biggest mental shield. Zim has like no fortitude against spiraling into a full on depression or a justifiable panic attack over the smallest concession of being an absolute failure to his race. That weaponized denial that makes him so dangerous to himself and others also keeps him together and motivated forward. But it’s not largely a conscious lie he’s telling himself. It’s genuine faith he’s trying to manifest into matter through sheer force of his will.

His dogmatic mantra, “I am Zim” and what it means to him is a statement he holds on such conviction it overpowered and hijacked the ego of 3 control brains at once.

If I were inserting him into DnD he’d have the wisdom stat of a stale poptart and a 20+ thrown into charisma. He’s faking it without even understanding he’s faking it.

But were he completely detached from reality, he’d be WAY more likely than even now to accidentally get himself killed. While a narcissistic level of self esteem is what lets him ignore and selectively unhear inconvenient truths, the adrenaline of immediate life or death danger is what grounds him back in the real world. You notice over time that as self-sabotaging as he normally is, he seems to act his most rational and competent when he’s suddenly put against the grindstone and self preservation HAS to jump into the driver’s seat. He basically survives his day to day on a tightrope between a falsely glorious narrative of himself, and his perceptive anxiety both tugging him to land on either side of the fence when something big happens.

In “The Trial”, he wastes very little time on his expected bullshit or his confidence in being able to just win over the approval of his judges.. by virtue of being his awesome self. He spent most of that ordeal on the verge of a heart attack, squirmed to find an escape, and actually tried to DENY causing the death of two Almighty Tallests (reminder that he usually owns up to his atrocities with downright offensive pride). He understood the full gravity of an existence evaluation and how cooked his goose was. As soon as the situation resolves and he’s no longer in that danger, it’s right back to full trust of his status as an invader, and in Red and Purple as his biggest fans. When his disguise starts to slip in front of Skool kids he knows are dumb as a bag of rocks, he can silver tongue his way around that without skipping a beat. Losing his disguise in front of a bunch of alien-obsessed adults? Uh oh, pants-shitting terror, this is potentially game-over levels of bad, immediately gtfo of here. Stand there, chest beat, and scold the obviously rogue duty-mode Gir all day until the second it actually tries to kill you and you suddenly have to realize you’re not the one holding the cards anymore to save your own life.

The other way this quirk of his really shows through is in his selective memory. Zim has this skill to repress down and push away unpleasant experiences that I think some of us can only dream we had. I love it because it’s equal parts a comedic and analytical goldmine.

Tak, who actually posed a legit threat to his entire mission and tried herself to chip through that massive wall of denial he’s shielded in- same Tak who’s powerful af ship was stolen and desecrated by Zim’s arch nemesis… she’s not just an afterthought in his mind after that mess. He’s literally pushed that one out of his thoughts altogether in the comics. Like she, and Skoodge, who he can’t fucking stand, might as well have never even existed, even while GIR’s trying to remind him. That time he played around with time travel and it was one of the biggest clusterfucks he quickly lost control of? The bologna incident he stooped so low as to ask dib to help him with? You must be thinking of someone else. Nope. Not a thing. Lalala, can’t even hear you. This is also what makes it no wonder he deeply struggles with actually learning from certain mistakes.

From an outsider’s eye this behavior of his is baffling. It makes him look actually insane or at least obnoxiously obstinate. And I think both assumptions are half right, because this is clearly not the result of mere stupidity. Those truths are simply wayyyy too discordant with his view of himself to devote surface memory to, or too uncomfortable, unless and until, of course, you confront him with them in a fashion where that rubber band has to snap, that bubble pops, and he instantly sobers out of that complacency.

Literally god forbid he ever stops being defective in this way or is given the ability to reckon with the reality of his situation and his history all at once. I’m not even just talking about his job or banishment. I’m talking about his entire life. This chaotic, flexible, incoherent mindstate is the only branch he’s holding onto from dropping into a much more horrifying chasm beneath himself, the depth of which we can only guess. I straight up have no idea what he would do or what could happen to him if he could, even for a moment, rationally comprehend his every action, memory, and empirical truth all at the same time. Seriously, leave that Pak’s Gordian Knot be, or I imagine there could be an HP Lovecraft type of breakdown in the making.

#By the way this is probably one of the most important differences between him and Dib, and what makes Zib so… way he is.