#anyways not sure if this is cool or dumb. only one way to find out

[chinzhilla-main]

thank you mr. guzman for personally yanking me by the scruff of the neck back into this madness

[rainrot4me]

Eyeless Jack General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jack as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw! Mentions of gore

Words: 2.3k

Basic:

- The definition of nonchalant doesn’t convey his emotions very well at all so he lets his actions do the talking.

- Even though he may put on a front of being calculated and detailed, everything he does is purely instinctual or off the top of his head. He’s never made great plans or thought further on a problem than he had to, relying solely on time or for everything to work itself out. Ben calls it ‘thuggin it out’. He may seem all cool, calm, and collected- but really, he just doesn’t care.

- Drives a brown 1989 Ford F-250. Found it discarded on some old hunting grounds and spent the next 3 years learning about truck parts just to fix it up. It’s nothing pretty and the A/C doesn’t work half the time, but that doesn't stop the proxies from either stealing it for missions or Jeff cruising it to gas stations.

- Loves his alone time. If ‘Do Not Disturb’ was a living being.

- Incredible sense of smell, a blessing and a curse.

- Even though he doesn’t really feel emotionally tied to anyone or reliant on anyone's attention, he would never pass up a good conversation with Jeff or Toby. Finds their problems interesting (and funny).

- Even though he doesn’t have any eyes, he can still see. How? Who even knows? The demon would describe it as more of a viewing like he can detail everything that’s happening, but he can’t physically see it. Cryptic stuff even he’s too dumb to figure out.

- Despite everything, probably the most upkeep and clean member of the mansion. While eating organs and harvesting them can be messy, he doesn’t like the grime and prefers to clean off as soon as he can. The same goes for his clothes and room/office. Surprisingly tidy.

- Not as smart as he likes to present himself. Sure, he’s a medical student with more experience than anyone in a 50-mile radius, but that doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing all of the time. Whenever the proxies roll in with serious injuries, the demon shoots them full of antibiotics, cauterizes the wound, and prays it doesn’t get worse from there. He knows what he’s doing, but that doesn’t mean he knows it’ll work 100% of the time.

- A silent panicker. Will absolutely tear his brain to shreds worrying or fighting with himself, but keep a stone look on his face the entire time. Gauging his emotions is like conversing with a brick wall.

- Dry humor. Absolutely will answer your long, emotional paragraph with a thumbs-up emoji.

- In some sick way, slightly prefers the life he’s living now. It may be grotesque and depressing, but his knowledge of the medical field and human bodies is infinitely more broad than it would’ve been. He quite enjoys the freedom he has now.

- Never happier than when winter is fizzling out and the first signs of spring show up. The warmth, the colors, the vibrancy coming back. He can’t get enough of it. Absolutely will get lost just studying the snow melting from the new flower beds.

- Locked in the basement of the mansion at all times. Only comes out to eat or on the rare occasion he’s assigned a mission. The only place he truly feels comfortable.

- Will get oddly emotional when light reflects on the lake just right or the fog settles on the ridge just perfectly. You’d never guess, but he’s a big poetic bum.

- Purrs. Like a cat. Ears flick around like one too.

- With music, he’s a big lyric listener. The song could sound absolutely terrible, but as long as he resonates with the words, will enjoy it anyway.

- Unorganized organization freak. Everything has a place, even if you don’t know where that place is.

- Seriously underestimates just how overtowering he is. He’s nowhere near Slender’s height, but the demon easily doubles in the average human’s vertical. When he was human he was taller, but never like this. He’s still getting used to it.

- Lanky but quick. Limbs and features are longer, but the muscle index makes up for it. He’s seriously fit, but everything is evenly distributed. Serious muscle definition in his arms and back, though. What he lacks in strength, he makes up in speed and agility.

- Enjoys Radiohead, Cigarettes After Sex, Paramore, and Three Days Grace. Will also never admit it, but really enjoy the Twilight soundtracks.

Dating Him/SFW:

“My pet…” “Little thing…” “Pretty thing…”

- Gift-giving love language. Loves to make you things unexpectedly and watch the surprise on your face. Steals jewelry or clothing from his victims to gift to you.

- It takes a lot for the demon to even consider you a friend let alone a potential love interest. But you best believe once he’s decided he wants you, that’s it. You take precedent, anything and everything else in his life takes a step back and you become the focal point. Heaven help if you ever change your mind about him.

- “My pretty thing… my lovely little pet… all mine…”

- Physically can not get enough of your smell. Whether it be sweet or sour, whatever emotion you dwell in, this demon will bury his nose into the crook of your neck and waste away there. It’s intoxicating to him, like an emotional tie he’s bound to.

- Like to study you. Your movements, your voice, the way you react to certain stimuli. Everything about you and your personality just intrigues him to no end.

- Possessive in the, ‘If they look at you, I’ll kill them’ way, but also is sure enough in himself and you to know he doesn’t need to go that far. Would rather lock you away for only him to see, but respects you too much.

- Has a deep-rooted fear of hurting you, so any fight or disagreement turns him distant. He’ll come back eventually, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be comfortable enough to get all touchy-feely again just yet.

- A lot like Edward from Twilight, he wants to taste you the most. It’s seriously a bad habit to nip at your skin or get lost in your scent because he knows how easy it would be just to take a chunk out of you. Has to be very aware and cautious of himself.

- Even though it took a long time for him to be comfortable enough to take his mask off around you, he still gets wildly conscious about it whenever you’re around. Loves nothing more than when you’re caressing his face or kissing his skin because he knows it's genuine.

- For a cannibal, he’s an insanely good cook. Will only cook for you, however. He says it's out of love, but really he knows deep down he wants to control what you eat so you have good organ health. You best believe he’ll have you hitting those core diet needs.

- Doesn’t sleep often, but when he does it's for long periods. The problem is, he likes to completely swallow you with his body and wrap around you, keeping you there until he eventually wakes up. Really enjoys the body heat you provide. Lowkey a small spoon.

- Slouches to your height.

- His favorite time is after a long day, curling up in a big chair with a book and you in his lap. You cocoon in his arms as he leans back, a blanket draped over the two of you. He’s naturally cold-blooded so he would stay there forever if he could.

- “You smell so good, pet… So good…”

- Talks in short, mumbled sentences. The mansion residents started using you as a translator because he would only say more than 3 words at a time around you.

- Absolutely never cared about how he looked before you. You taught him decent clothing styles and now he rocks the ‘dark academia/soft boy’ aesthetic like a champ.

- Made you your own special corner in his lab just because he couldn’t deal with having to be away while working.

- An intense kisser. It’s never soft pecks but full-on mouth-consuming makeouts. He’s a hungry guy who can only be satisfied if he feels like he’s swallowed enough of your tongue and lips with his own. Your lips and chin are absolutely soaked with slobber afterward.

- Firm believer in carrying you. No matter where or how far, he likes to bridal-style haul you around or have you latch onto his back.

- “I could eat you up. Just kidding… yeah…”

- Goes ridiculously insane when he can see the chubbiness on your thighs or stomach. You sitting down or lying out, you best believe he is fighting every demon internally not to take a massive bite on your skin.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Again, skin. No better than a man during the dark times when you flash just a little too much leg or abdomen. He’s on you in seconds and clawing your clothes off to see more.

- You will never leave an encounter without cum dripping out of you. Refuses to get off anywhere else but deep inside of one of your holes. Call it a breeding kink but his animalistic tendencies just won’t let him pull out. Grunting and panting against your nape as he slams inside as far as he can to keep you from squirming away

- “You can take it, I know you can… Need you full of me… All of me…”

- A greedy kisser. Grabbing your jaw and fucking his tongues into the warm wetness of your mouth, teasing to just push them further past the tightness of your throat. Even when you squirm and gag, he just pushes them deeper, testing your resolve.

- You reach your breaking point longggg before he does. A couple of orgasms deep and he hasn’t even put his cock in yet, just milking your body for all it’s worth. It may be because he has a high sex drive, but it’s mainly because he gets off best when you’re pliable and numb to his touch. It’s a domination thing.

- A pussy worshiper. Much like his adoration for any organ, he really appreciates all of his knowledge of the female anatomy and how good he is at eating you out. If he can, or if you can take it, he’ll press all three of his tongues deep inside and spread your plush walls to his content. Likes to swap between focusing on your cunt and your clit, but mainly both at once.

- Bite marks galore. Has to be careful with how much blood he draws, but you’ll never get by without at least one good bite mark on your shoulder. Likes to possessively mark you all over just for others to see. Same feeling with claw marks.

- There’s some cognitive switch in his brain that flips when he gets to a certain point of desperation, like after not seeing you for a long period or after a particularly difficult day. It’s like a starved creature hungry and desperate for anything. He’ll ravage your body and mind, fucking you both to pure exhaustion or until he physically can’t cum anymore.

- On that note, ruts. They’re seasonal, usually coming around the first two weeks of spring and fall. He can’t control when they show up, but once started, they usually last 3 to 4 days, each day getting less intense. Since it’s such an animalistic ordeal, he loses all restraint or moral compass on how to treat you. Bites, blood, wounds, and injury are all possible. They’re not intentional, but he physically cannot control his mental or physical, blinded completely by lust. Thank god his sperm isn’t compatible with human anatomy, because that’s the only place he’ll cum.

- “I’m sorry- sorry, pet- Just one more time- just one more- Fuck- I promise-”

- Both ankles wrapped in one claw. Two claws overlapping around your waist. Yeah…

- Starts slow, so achingly slow you want to rut your hips and get him deeper. He likes the feeling of entering you, of spreading your plush cunt around his cock and finding its home deep inside. He’ll get faster eventually, but for now, he just wants to drink up the sights and smells of your desperation. That first gasp gets him every time.

- Mating press or nothing else. If you want to try something new, he’ll happily oblige, but the only way he’s truly happy is if your legs are pushed back to your shoulders and his hips are slamming down into yours. He’ll take the occasional doggy style, but only if his teeth are latched on to the back of your neck and holding you docile.

- Could watch your face come undone all day. Loves to see your eyes roll when you come, or the sweat and tears dripping off your cheeks. The dark flush of your skin gets him so hungry he has to physically restrain himself.

- “You’re so gorgeous- so fuckin’ pretty- Ah- Look at me. C’mon, don’t get shy now…”

- One time, after a particularly messy organ harvest, he couldn’t wait to get to you. He was so livid, body practically shaking with excitement when he snuck into your room that he didn’t even have time to clean himself off. Blood (not yours) stained your sheets and skin, messy claws dragging across your stomach and chest to coat you in dark red, his tongues quick to shoot out and lap at the stuff. You, covered in blood and his mess, sent him spinning. That was the fastest he’s ever came.

- Growling, panting, snarling, huffing, chittering, teeth gnashing, LOUD ASF

- Has a size thing. Comparing your hand to his makes him so horny and eager to just pick you up and fuck you. Admires how small and easy you are to just throw around like a doll.

- Absolutely has had sick fantasies of fucking your organs like a fleshlight. He’d never tell you, but the thought of cutting a slit in your abdomen to push his cock into the tangle of intestines and muscles makes him drool. He can almost imagine how warm it would be.

- Gets a high when you squirt. Feels accomplished to be covered in your juices and having you completely ruined for anyone but him.

- “You can take it for me, yeah? Go ahead and make a mess… It’s alright…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[lovebugism]

how abt eddie x shy reader , she meet’s wayne accidentally & she brings like sm food for the week he LOVES HER but shes so shy

a request deep from the archives that i haven't stopped thinking about since i got it hahah please enjoy xoxo — you spend a fluffy morning in with the munsons (established relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie rouses from his sleep like a king on a sunken-in couch. 

Saturday morning cartoons play on the TV just ahead of him, mostly on mute ‘cause you’ve got the radio going in the kitchen. Something soft and soulful and too low for him to hear. The trailer swells with the scent of something sweet, of syrup and cooked sugar. 

Speaking of sweet…

His flushed cheek rubs against the arm of the couch when he looks up to find you. He can see you just over the top of the counter, like a scene from a movie. You’ve got a bowl of something wedged in your elbow, and you stir at it with your free hand — half-distracted because your nose is stuck in an open recipe book on the counter. Your glasses fall slowly down your nose. You try to push them up again with your shoulder, but they slip back down a second later.

Your gentle humming fills his ears, and Eddie figures this is what heaven must be like. There’s no greater nirvana than this.

He rises and stretches and walks the very short distance to the kitchen. Still warm with sleep, he wraps himself around you, chest flush to the expanse of your back. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts, muffled into your sweater.

“Cookin’,” you answer in the same tone, only softer and a little more sheepish.

Eddie breathes hard once. You think you feel him smiling. “Dumb question, huh?”

“Did you sleep good?” 

“Too good to be passed out on the couch for an hour.” He lifts his head to prop his chin on your shoulder. It bobs against you with every word. “You were supposed to be sleeping with me, by the way.”

“I tried. But then I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Correction. You wanted to make Wayne breakfast.”

Your giggling is as soft and sweet as the cinnamon concoction you’re stirring at. “Well, I don’t want either of you to starve, actually. So sorry for making sure the Munson’s are taken care of.”

Eddie’s chest swells. His heart starts to warm so much he’s scared it might burst. He tucks his face back into your neck and holds you tighter. “Don’t apologize, sweet thing. ‘M just being stupid.”

“That nickname’s not gonna stick, Eds,” you tease, tilting your head until your cheek meets his wild hair. “You can stop trying now.”

He scoffs and pulls back from you. His eyes, still softly swollen with sleep, are wide and glittering. “Why not?” he shouts, a bit too loudly to be so close to your ear. “You’re sweet and you’re my thing— it’s literally the perfect nickname.”

“You’re thing?” you echo with a distant laugh. “I’m not a toy, Eds.”

“Not all the time—” His boyish giggling is followed by a scoffed breath when you elbow him with your free arm. You shove him away halfheartedly, pushing him out of the tiny kitchen. “What?!” he exclaims, laughing loudly.

“Get out of the kitchen!”

“What’d I do?”

“My french toast tastes good ‘cause it’s made with love, and you’re tainting it.”

“How? I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” He gravitates back to you despite your efforts to keep him away. He plants a smacking kiss to your lips and grins wide when he pulls away. “See? Now it’ll taste extra sweet.”

You’re glaring at him one moment, then happily accepting another one of his kisses the next.

The front door opens, squealing in protest and rushing in the cool morning air. It’s unsurprisingly Wayne. His work boots stomp heavy on the carpet. He holds a greased hand over his forehead. “My eyes are still closed,” he jokes, voice deep and gravelly. “You two have about three seconds to stop touchin’ each other.”

Eddie scoffs but steps back from you anyway. “That was one time!” he argues boyishly. “And we weren’t even doing anything!”

Wayne laughs a sharp breath, just like Eddie had, but a little bit gruffer. He forgoes the petty banter and shoots you a smile — tightlipped, barely-there, and weighed down by the exhaustion of the graveyard shift. “How ya doin’, sweetpea?”

“Good,” you answer, shrinking into your shyness. “I’m makin’ french toast.”

“That’s my favorite,” the older man grins. “How’d you know?”

“‘Cause it’s my favorite,” Eddie insists.

“It’ll be done soon,” you tell him, all quiet in your sheepishness. “If you wanna get changed or whatever.”

Wayne heads to the hallway, stopping short in the kitchen to muss at Eddie’s curls and pat you gently on the shoulder. “Thank ya, sweetpea,” he murmurs, voice dripping with fatigue. His accent always gets real heavy when he’s tired.

“You’re welcome…”

Eddie doesn’t say anything until he hears the bathroom door shut. “So Wayne can call you sweetpea, but I can call you sweet thing?” he asks, features swirled with offense.

“It’s different!”

The boy follows you to the cabinets like a lost puppy. Then, when you have trouble reaching the vanilla extract on the top shelf, he leans over you to grab it. “No, you just have favorites,” he argues, passing you the small container.

“That’s not true!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, still pouting as he leans against the counter beside you. He mourns the lack of your attention when you give it all to the french toast mixture on the counter. You spoon in the vanilla with a practiced touch. “…Are you staying over again tonight?” he mutters, shier than you are now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “If it’s okay with Wayne, then—”

“Wayne! Sweet thing’s staying the night— is that okay?” Eddie shouts before you can blink. The trailer rings with the volume of his voice.

“Eddie,” you scold quietly.

The bathroom door squeaks open. A grunt sounds from the hallway, a nonverbal answer you’re not totally sure what to make of. The man returns in the pajamas he pulled from the hall closet — a thin t-shirt older than Eddie is and a pair of plaid pants.

“I’ll make dinner before your shift tonight,” you tell him with a soft grin that neither of the Munsons can say no to. “I promise.”

Wayne makes another scoffing sound. A laugh, maybe. A smile hints at the corner of his bearded mouth as he pours himself a coffee across the counter — in the painted mug Eddie made him for Father’s Day, several years ago now. 

“Well— In that case, I’m afraid I have to insist on you stayin’, sweet pea.”

“Thanks, Mr. Munson.”

“Call me Wayne,” he tells you, playfully chiding in a parental sort of way. He gives you a pointed look over the cup he sips from and heads back towards the living room. “You’re feedin’ us too good to be so polite all the time.”

You smile to yourself and laugh a quiet, slightly forced laugh.

The sofa squeaks when Wayne settles onto it, sprawling out the same way Eddie had before. Too tired to reach for the remote on the coffee table, he watches He-Man re-runs with heavy eyelids.

“Alright, sweet thing— what do you need me to do?” Eddie asks with a clap of his hands, making a very pointed effort not to drop the nickname. You get all flustered when he calls you that — smiling softly to yourself and then ducking your gaze to hide it from him. You’ll have to pry the name from his cold, dead hands.

You turn to peer at him from beneath your lashes. “You dip the bread, and I’ll fry ‘em?”

“Sounds like a plan, sweet thing.”

“Eddie.”

[moonstruckme]

Ok James but him and his slytherin girlfriend seem to come out of nowhere and the boys are supportive but are more mad at James for not telling them? Idk I loved your other fic SO MUCH

Thanks for requesting <3

part 1

cw: mention of injury, no details or anything though

James Potter x Slytherin!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You hesitate outside the doorway to the infirmary at the raised voices coming from inside. 

You don’t need to be here, strictly speaking. James told you his injury wasn’t bad, and he has his friends to help him if he needs it, but…you can’t settle yourself down. You hadn’t liked the way he’d limped off the field, nor the tiny grimace on his face when Sirius had wrapped a bracing arm under his shoulders. It would be just like James to downplay how hurt he is to make you feel better, and the longer the game had gone on without him the more your guts twisted themselves into knots over the idea that he was in pain. 

You’d seethed at yourself and your stupid soft heart all the way to the infirmary, where now you’re frozen just outside like a coward. Something inside you is coiled tight with tension at the idea of going to see James Potter, on purpose and in public, even though that’s dumb because now everyone at Hogwarts knows about the two of you anyway. Your sappy display on the quidditch pitch made sure of that. But now that you have official and widely-known claim to the girlfriend title, you have just as much right to see him as anyone else. You shove your anxiety back into your stomach where it belongs and open the door. 

As soon as you’re inside, the voices become clearer. “—like this isn’t a big deal. The Prophet’s going to be all over the two of you by tomorrow, and we had to find out with every other fucking bloke at the school!”

“Pads, you don’t think I would have told you if I could?” James sounds exhausted, and something mutinous throbs in your heart. It’s followed quickly by the more familiar twinge of irritation at the use of those moronic nicknames they all have. “She made me promise not to tell anyone, including the both of you.” 

They’re talking about you. Of course they’re talking about you. What else could possibly be more important after James has fallen a good twenty feet off his broom than his dating life? This is why you hadn’t wanted to tell people. Hogwarts wears away at private lives like dementors at souls, and the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is too strong for your relationship with James to have any hope of remaining untainted once the gossip mill got ahold of it. 

Your instincts are screaming at you to turn around and leave before they catch sight of you, but you force yourself to keep walking. If you start letting what people think about you and James affect you now, you’ll never be able to get past it. 

Remus is the first to spot you, going still as if you’ve come to hex him, but James’ face splits into a lopsided grin that has the knots in your gut loosening very slightly. 

“Especially you,” you say to Sirius as you brush past him, perching by James' pillow and weaving your fingers into his curls. There’s a wrap around his middle. It’s very hard to appear calm and blasé when you feel like you’re going to rupture something if he doesn't promise you he’s okay right this instant. “You’d have had all of Gryffindor talking about us within an hour.” 

Sirius bristles but visibly shoves his temper aside, his voice matching your coolness as he says, “If I’d told anyone, Y/L/N, it would have been to inquire about whether anyone’s noticed you gathering ingredients for amortentia recently. James doesn’t keep things from us. Artificial infatuation is the only explanation for why he’d tolerate you and your secrets.” 

“Oi,” James says, but you pat his head placatingly. You can fight your own battles. 

“That how you got this one?” you jut your chin towards Remus, who’s looking somewhat entertained as he watches the two of you spar. “If I’m ever in need of the recipe, Black, you’ll be the first person I come to, but I don’t need to resort to such measures myself.” 

Sirius glowers at you, and James sets his hand on your shoulder just as Remus wraps a pacifying arm around his boyfriend. “Alright, I think that’s enough,” the taller boy says in his usual calm manner, and though Sirius is still tensed for a fight, he allows himself to be drawn into Remus’ side.

James nods in agreement. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, really. I thought I’d get a chance to before everyone found out, but…” He turns up his palms helplessly. “Things didn’t go as planned.” 

“We’ll get over it,” Remus says, Sirius quietly fuming beside him. “Won’t we, love?”

Sirius looks up at Remus' face, which is clearly a mistake, because he softens like butter in the sun. “Yeah, yeah, just gimme a bit,” he grumbles halfheartedly. “Anything to keep our Prongsie happy, right?”

James beams, so clearly relieved at the settlement of the conflict that you feel a bit guilty for participating in it. He kisses you on the cheek, chuckling against your skin. “You stink.” 

“Some of us stuck around to play the whole game,” you reply.

“Ouch,” James says, but he’s grinning. “Couldn’t really help that, could I?”

You give him a look to let him know you haven’t forgotten how his negligence had gotten him hurt. “Debatable.” 

You hear Remus chuckle but don’t take your eyes off James’ face, inspecting it for signs of the pain you suspect he’s hiding. “How bad is it really?” you ask, softening your voice even though there’s no chance of his friends not hearing you. 

James worries his lip, big brown eyes looking into yours guiltily. “Pomphrey says I broke three ribs and bruised my tailbone pretty badly. Minor concussion, too, but nothing serious.” 

Sounds serious enough to you. You ghost a hand over the back of his head as if you’ll be able to find and fix his hurt. He leans into your palm though, so it’s not for nothing. “I’m sorry I walked away out there,” you all but whisper. “I should have stayed with you.” 

James eyebrows pinch together. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he promises just as softly. He knows what it costs you to talk like this in front of people, like you’re turning yourself inside out for them to judge and stab at as they please, but James has no such reservations. He dots a kiss, feather-light, at the top of your cheekbone, wrapping an arm around you protectively. “Thanks for coming, I mean it.” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah, and in my fucking quidditch gear,” you say in your normal voice, attempting to banish the heavy mood. As if your heart isn’t still beating, hummingbird-fast and fragile, in your throat. “We both need to change and shower, and then you should rest. Did Pomphrey say you could leave?”

James nods, still looking at you like you’ve cracked open in his hands (he might be right; it feels like you have, and it wouldn’t even be the first time today). He rubs your upper arm affectionately, but his voice is easygoing when he says, “Yup, I’m good to go.” 

Sirius steps forward, as though to remind the two of you that he is, in fact, also present. “Great. We’ll walk you back to the room.” 

You turn to him, not quite ready for your time with James to be up and aching for the opportunity to dote on him in private. “That’s okay, I can take him.” 

Sirius’ eyes narrow. “You can’t even get into our dorms.” 

“Please, like Gryffindor’s riddles are so perplexing.” 

“I don’t need an escort,” James interjects. He pushes himself up with a grimace. 

You halt him with your hands on his shoulders and Remus says, “Don’t be stupid, Prongs, you can barely walk.” 

“I’ve got him,” you say firmly. Sirius stares you down, but you don’t flinch from his stony gaze. You know he doesn’t trust you. You don’t think he’d willingly trust any Slytherin. Since you’ve been at Hogwarts, the talk in your house has always been that Sirius Black shuns his family because they’re all Slytherins. Although James assures you there’s more to the story than that, it’s still obvious to anyone that he considers his friends his true family. He won’t entrust just anyone with James’ safety. But maybe that’s one thing you can agree upon. 

He must see something of this in your face, because after a minute Sirius relents, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “I wanted to stop by the kitchens anyway.”

James is looking between the two of you curiously, aware that something has transpired but not quite sure what. 

You don’t give Sirius a chance to change his mind. “Alright,” you say, gripping James' forearms and helping him to stand. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” 

James drapes his arm across your shoulders gamely, and the two of you start out the door. “I don’t think that’s the insult you think it is.”

[mercillery]

ASL BROTHERS WITH A SHY S/O

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Ace + Sabo

NOTES: Do Luffy haters exist? It’s a dumb question, yes—but I’m genuinely curious. He’s so cute and dumb, I find it hard to not love him.

LUFFY

Luffy wouldn’t really “get” shyness in the conventional sense. But here’s the thing about Luffy: he’s all about accepting people as they are, no questions asked. He treats you with the same bright-eyed, wide-grinned enthusiasm he shows everyone. The idea of you needing to be more outgoing wouldn’t even cross his mind because, to him, you’re already perfect as you are. Shyness? Never heard of it. Just pass the meat, please.

Now, Luffy’s approach to social interactions is, well, 100% Luffy. He doesn’t really adapt his wild and carefree style to match anyone else’s comfort levels. If you're quiet and reserved, that’s cool—Luffy just goes on living life at full volume like it’s another Tuesday on the Sunny.

At first, you might be left wondering how in the seven seas you’re going to survive the endless hurricane of chaos that follows this rubbery captain around. But soon, and without realizing it, you start to find that his reckless antics and headfirst approach to life are... kind of charming. Sure, it’s like living next door to a tornado, but it’s a tornado that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and never lets you get too deep into your own thoughts.

What’s funny is that while he doesn’t actively try to make you feel more comfortable, he ends up doing it anyway. It’s his Luffy magic. You find yourself smiling more often, your shyness loosening its grip bit by bit as he does dumb stuff and throws himself into trouble that only Luffy would consider fun.

He’ll walk up to you, grin stretching from ear to ear, holding out some bizarre, questionably edible snack and say, “You gotta try this!” And just like that, the nerves you felt melt away—not because he’s making an effort to make you feel at ease, but simply because he’s himself.

And sure, sometimes his energy is a lot. We’re talking sprinting-across-decks, yelling-about-meat kind of “a lot.” But in the middle of all that noise, you come to realize that you feel safer and more at ease when you’re around him. Why? Because Luffy has this way of making everything fun and natural, and soon enough, that includes you too.

Before long, your shyness isn’t something you worry about around him; it’s just another thing Luffy accepts without blinking, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And in his eyes? It is.

It’s cute because you two really are like the sun and the moon, with Luffy as the blazing, never-stopping sun, and you being the more reserved, quiet moon. It’s like a cosmic duo—he’s all light and energy, and you’re the calm, cool reflection of it all. You balance each other out in the weirdest, most wonderful way.

And when people catch wind of the fact that Luffy is dating someone—let alone someone as shy as you—it’s like watching a cartoon character’s eyes bug out of their head. Yeah, they’re not wrong to be surprised, but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s already busy thinking about what’s next on the agenda, probably involving meat or some kind of treasure hunt.

Luffy is anything but shy. He could probably talk to a rock and think it’s the best conversation he’s had all day. So when it comes to affection, he’s not exactly one to shy away from it. He might not be the clingiest partner out there—he’s not going to be hanging off you like a koala (okay, maybe sometimes)—but you can bet he’s there, always.

Whether it’s randomly giving you a hug in or tossing his arm around your shoulder like it’s no big deal, he’s just Luffy—and that means showing affection wherever and whenever he feels like it, no matter who’s watching. Basically, he’s like a “here’s my arm, it’s yours now” kind of guy.

While Luffy doesn’t exactly get what makes you shy, he’s surprisingly good at picking up on your feelings. If you’re feeling anxious, or if you’re shrinking back into your shell a little bit, Luffy has this unbelievable ability to sense when you need a change of pace. Without even thinking about it, he’ll grab your hand and drag you off on some wild adventure, just to get your mind off things.

He doesn’t even need a reason—he just knows that you could use a distraction, and he’s the perfect person to provide it. Besides, that just gives him more time to spend with you! And, of course, he might offer you one of his beloved snacks or a full meal if you’re feeling off. Seriously, do you know how big that is? Luffy parting with his food is like a miracle in itself, so if he’s offering it to you, you better believe you’re special.

And let’s talk about the food thing for a sec. Do you even realize how big of a deal it is that Luffy shares his food with you? Like, do you know how many times he’s turned down offering a bite of his meat to anyone? Probably never. So when he hands you a piece of his prized food, you know it’s a huge honor. We’re talking sacred territory here.

If you ever doubted your place in Luffy’s heart, just remember: he shares his food with you. That’s a level of trust and affection that not even the grandest feast can outdo. Trust me, you’ve got a special place in his world, and it’s right next to the meat and maybe a little bit of the chaos.

Luffy’s naturally the type of guy who’d include you in absolutely everything—because why wouldn’t he? To him, you’re part of the crew, part of his world, and that means he’s going to drag you into every single bit of it.

You’d be minding your own business, maybe sitting quietly with your book or trying to sneak in a nap, when suddenly—BAM! Luffy's in front of you, grinning like a madman, already talking about the next big adventure or game that everyone’s playing. “C’mon, join us!” he’d say, and before you could protest, he’s already tossing you into the mix.

It’s not that he’s forcing you to join, though—Luffy just has this way of making you feel like you should be there, without ever putting you on the spot. His carefree, inclusive attitude makes it feel like the natural thing to do. You never feel pressure; you just feel... valued. Like you belong, whether you’re quietly cheering from the sidelines or joining in with your own brand of awkward enthusiasm.

It’s like Luffy’s energy is so contagious that you can’t help but want to be part of whatever insane thing he’s cooking up that day, even if it’s just watching him eat his weight in food and making random, nonsensical decisions.

If anyone ever crossed the line with you—teased you, made you uncomfortable, or said something that got under your skin—Luffy would flip the script faster than you can blink. That goofy, carefree grin would disappear in an instant, replaced by a rare, uncharacteristically serious expression.

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you like a human shield, ready to take down anyone who dared upset you. He’s usually a chaotic force of nature, but mess with his loved ones, and that’s when you see a side of him that is all about protecting you.

He wouldn’t hesitate to confront the person, his voice firm and unwavering. “Hey! That’s not cool! You don’t mess with my crew!” He’s not one for subtlety or second-guessing, so you’d know right away that Luffy’s on your side. If someone’s being rude or making you feel small, he’ll make sure they know they’ve messed with the wrongggggg person.

The crew’s used to this by now—because Luffy, despite his childish nature, would go to the ends of the earth to defend the people he cares about. You’d feel like the most important person in the world in that moment because, in his eyes, you are.

Luffy’s loyalty is on another level entirely. Once he’s decided he cares about someone, they’re in—no questions, no conditions, just pure, unfiltered loyalty. If you’re lucky enough to be someone Luffy loves, you’d know it in every grin, in every spontaneous gesture, and in every single, joyfully shouted “Let’s go!” You’d never have to second-guess where you stand with him, because Luffy’s affections are as clear as day, as honest and unwavering as the sea he dreams of conquering.

So whether you’re officially part of his crew or not, in his mind, you’re always one of them, and he’d tell anyone who’ll listen, “Yeah, they’re with me!” with a pride that’d make your heart swell.

The best part? Luffy would constantly invite you to tag along on whatever wild journey or ridiculous stunt he’s about to pull. There’d be no hesitation; it’d be, “Hey! Let’s go on an adventure!” as if going on an impromptu quest was as simple as taking a stroll to the market. It’s almost like Luffy has this unspoken rule: every exciting, crazy, fun thing has to be experienced with you.

From treasure hunts that end up in unexpected fights with sea kings to races through bustling ports (where he definitely has no idea where he’s running but is laughing the whole time), Luffy wants you there, right in the middle of it all. You’d probably sigh at the thought of jumping headfirst into another unpredictable situation, but Luffy’s enthusiasm is like a gravitational pull—it’s impossible to resist.

And thank goodness for that, because your timid self wouldn’t stand a chance at taking the lead in any of these wild endeavors. Luckily, Luffy’s the type to charge forward, dragging you along by the hand with zero doubts and zero plans. He makes all the decisions for both of you, which, sure, sometimes means ending up lost on an island full of very angry, very large monkeys because, “They looked friendly!”

You’d feel a mix of exasperation and endearment at his antics. He doesn’t realize it, but his willingness to be the fearless leader—even if his plans are sometimes made with the strategic prowess of a rubber chicken—takes the pressure off you. You don’t have to stress over decisions or worry about whether you’re doing the right thing, because Luffy’s already ten steps ahead (probably literally sprinting) and dragging you along with a confidence that borders on reckless.

And honestly? That’s part of the charm. His “plans” might be half-baked and a little foolish, but he makes up for it by being completely and unapologetically himself.

You’d find yourself smiling more than you ever expected, getting swept up in the whirlwind that is Luffy, and realizing that being with him means never feeling alone, even if you’re quiet or shy.

His laughter, his outbursts, and his impulsive decisions would all become things you cherish, because with him leading the way, life feels a little less scary and a lot more exciting.

ACE

Ace is all warmth and energy, like a bonfire on a chilly night, and he’d go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable in his presence. Despite his natural tendency for excitement and spontaneity, he’d be mindful of your shyness, making a conscious effort to dial down the volume when needed.

You’d catch him lowering his voice a bit, softening his laughter, or even sitting a little closer with a reassuring grin. His laid-back nature would do wonders for your anxiety, melting it away bit by bit like ice under the sun. He’d take a more casual, playful approach when he’s with you, balancing his liveliness with a kind of gentle attentiveness that makes your heart feel at ease.

Ace has a knack for starting conversations, even if the topic is completely random. He’d sense your hesitance and jump in without skipping a beat. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook for the crew and accidentally set a whole forest on fire?” he’d start, eyes twinkling as he watches your reaction.

His stories are always ridiculous—stories of clumsy mishaps, epic pranks gone wrong, or that one time he fell asleep mid-battle. You’d find yourself laughing in spite of yourself, the tension in your shoulders easing as you realize he’s making himself the butt of the joke, just to make you feel more at ease. He’d keep talking until he sees that spark of amusement in your eyes, and then keep going, his smile growing wider every time you giggle.

And Ace’s teasing? Oh, he’d be a master of that fine line between making you laugh and making you blush. He’d lean in, smirking just enough to be charming, and say, “What’s this? A smile? I knew it was in there somewhere.” His playful comments would come with a wink and a laugh, just enough to make your face warm, but never enough to make you feel like you’re being put on the spot.

If he ever saw you growing quiet or noticed that hint of panic in your eyes, he’d immediately back off, switching to a softer tone and throwing in a quick “I’m just messing with ya” followed by that disarming grin of his.

Ace would be incredibly in tune with your reactions, watching for the tiniest signs that you’re feeling overwhelmed. The moment he picks up on it, he’d change gears—maybe suggesting a quiet spot on deck where you could sit together and watch the stars, or offering to take a walk to get some fresh air. He’d brush off the seriousness with a light, “Hey, it’s just us. No pressure, alright?” The way he says it makes you feel safe, like it’s just you and him against the world, no expectations or worries allowed.

Ace is the definition of a warm hug in human form, so being a tactile person comes naturally to him. But when it comes to you, he’d show an impressive amount of restraint—not an easy feat for someone who’d usually throw an arm around a friend without thinking twice. Well, you’re not just his friend but his lover, obviously—but what I’m getting at us that he’s a pretty affectionate guy.

He’d start small, easing you into it with light touches: a friendly pat on the shoulder when you share a joke, a playful ruffle of your hair that would leave you smiling and maybe a little flustered. You’d catch the subtle glances he’d shoot you afterward, as if he’s silently checking, Was that okay? Did that make you uncomfortable? It’s endearing how he’s so in tune with your comfort level, his natural affection turned into a gentle dance of patience and care.

As time went on and your confidence around him grew, Ace would start to introduce more meaningful touches. He’d sneak in side hugs when you’re sitting together, leaning into you with that easygoing smile of his that made your heart race. And when the day finally came that you leaned into him on your own, whether it was out of exhaustion or just because you felt safe, the soft, proud look on his face would be priceless.

Ace would make a big deal out of it in the quietest way possible, his hand finding yours in a reassuring squeeze as if to say, Hey, look at you, being brave. Eventually, he’d graduate to full-on snuggling when you were comfortable, and the first time he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close, you’d know just how deeply he cared.

And when social situations become too much—because let’s face it, Ace has a lot of friends and a magnetic personality that draws people in—he’d be the first to notice if you’re starting to feel overwhelmed.

In those moments, he’d spring into action without making it obvious. He’d tell a ridiculously over-the-top story, one that would steal the spotlight from everyone else and have the whole room’s attention fixed on him, leaving you a moment to breathe.

Ace would always throw himself into being the distraction, whether it meant cracking jokes or reenacting a failed stunt that ended with him pretending to trip over his own feet. He’d shoot you a quick wink in the middle of it, as if to say, See? I’ve got you.

It’s not that he wanted to be the center of attention—okay, maybe a little, but only when it’s for you.

He’d take on the role of court jester, chaos-maker, or even reluctant hero if it meant taking the pressure off you for a while. If anyone questioned it, he’d brush it off with a laugh and a shrug, all while keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay.

And if things really got too much, Ace wouldn’t hesitate to steer you away from the noise altogether, leaning in close and saying, “Let’s get outta here for a bit, yeah?” He’d lead you somewhere quieter, a hand on your arm or fingers interlaced with yours, the simple touch grounding you as you walked.

You’d both end up somewhere peaceful, maybe under the stars or by a flickering campfire, where he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder and say, “You don’t have to explain. Just take your time.” And you would, with the steady thump of his heartbeat right next to yours, knowing he’d take on the world just to make sure you felt comfortable and safe.

Ace would be your number one cheerleader, hyped beyond belief over every little victory you achieved. You managed to say something in a group conversation? He’d beam at you like you just solved world peace. “Look at you go! You’re amazing!” he’d shout, probably a bit louder than necessary, with that signature grin that lights up his entire face.

If you reached out to touch his arm or, heaven forbid, initiated a hug, there’d be a solid five minutes of him staring at you in delighted disbelief before breaking out into an excited, “Did you just—? You did! You did!”

What you might not notice is that whenever you step even half a toe out of your comfort zone, Ace is in the background punching the air with all the subtlety of an over-caffeinated kid at a birthday party.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a tiny thing, like making eye contact with someone new, or a big step like saying a few words in front of the crew—Ace is celebrating it like you just discovered the One Piece itself.

He might look a bit unhinged to anyone passing by, but he’s never cared about that. You’re his person, and your wins are his wins. He’s just out here being the proudest guy alive, punching invisible foes and mouthing, That’s my partner!

And the way he looks at you? It’s like you’re the most priceless treasure in the world, and not just in the fleeting, pirate-wants-your-gold way. No, Ace’s gaze is full of warmth and genuine awe, the kind that makes you feel like you’re wrapped in a blanket of sunshine.

When you speak, whether it’s a confident statement or a hesitant mumble, Ace is all ears. His eyes would fix on you with this almost comically serious expression, nodding along like you’re revealing some ancient, life-altering secret.

You could point to the sky and say, “That’s the sky,” and he’d respond with a deep, earnest nod and a wide grin, “Exactly! I love that you noticed!” The rest of the crew might shake their heads and mutter things like, “Here they go again,” but Ace doesn’t care. If it matters to you, it matters to him—simple as that.

It doesn’t matter how mundane your observation is or how shyly you say it; to Ace, every word is golden. He’d hang on every syllable as if you were weaving a tale worthy of a bard’s song. You’d catch him repeating things you said back to you later, just to show he’d remembered, saying things like, “Oh yeah, like you said the other day, the sky really was a perfect blue.”

It’s almost ridiculous, but that’s Ace—he’d make you feel like every tiny thing you did was extraordinary, because in his eyes, it truly is.

SABO

Sabo is the calm breeze compared to the whirlwinds that are Luffy and Ace, which makes him the perfect blend of approachable and comforting.

With his natural ease and warm, diplomatic demeanor, you’d find yourself feeling more at peace around him sooner than you’d expect. Sabo’s the kind of person who could have a conversation with anyone, but when he’s with you, you’d feel like you’re the only one in the world that matters.

He’s just got this knack for making everything feel safe, like he’s a sturdy anchor in a storm. If you ever started to feel overwhelmed, Sabo would be the first to notice, with a quiet attentiveness that doesn’t scream I’m watching you but more like I’m here if you need me.

He’d be a master of subtlety, paying close attention to what made you nervous and what helped you open up, all without making it seem like he was analyzing you. You’d catch him making mental notes when you shifted uncomfortably or lit up at something specific. He’s probably like, “Write that down, write that down!” in his head.

And he’d use those observations to make your interactions more comfortable. If he noticed that certain topics or big crowds made you anxious, he’d steer conversations towards lighter things or find a reason to take a quiet walk somewhere less crowded.

Sabo would never rush you into sharing more than you were ready for. He understands that trust is built slowly, like adding logs to a fire, not dumping gasoline on it and hoping for the best.

Sabo would show his affection in the most considerate ways, taking into account what you’d find comforting rather than overwhelming. That being said, grand and dramatic gestures aren’t his style when it comes to you; he’d save those for his other acts of rebellion.

With you, he’d stick to smaller, more intimate actions. He’d brush his fingers across yours before holding your hand, always making sure it was welcome. He’d lean in a little closer when you’re talking, eyes fixed on you with that soft, attentive gaze of his that makes you feel like you have all the time in the world.

There’d be moments when he’d reach out with a light touch on your arm, or just the simple press of his shoulder against yours when you sat side by side, enough to let you know he was there but never too much to make you uncomfortable.

It’s like he has a sixth sense for what was just the right amount of closeness. And if you ever looked unsure or nervous, Sabo’s eyes would catch yours, full of warmth and encouragement, like he was silently saying, Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.

The patience he’d show would be unmatched; you could almost hear him mentally cheering you on even if you were just picking your words slowly or taking a deep breath before saying something important.

And the way he’d support you? Subtle but powerful. If you ever found yourself second-guessing or fumbling, he’d quietly step in to help redirect the conversation or offer a reassuring comment. “I think that’s a great point,” he’d say with genuine enthusiasm, giving you that extra boost of confidence.

And when you’d catch him watching you speak, the look in his eyes would always be one of admiration—never judgment, never pressure, just pure, patient support. And whether it’s a simple chat or a quiet walk together, Sabo’s presence would be your reminder that you’re valued, seen, and cherished, just as you are.

When it came to conversations, Sabo would be your guy for deep, meaningful talks, but with a healthy dose of humor to keep things light. He’d pick the coziest, quietest corner on the ship or at a café, leaning in with a thoughtful smile and saying, “Alright, you ready to hear some top-secret stories about Ace and Luffy’s greatest flops?” And he’d be off, recounting tales of Luffy trying to eat something he really, really shouldn’t have or Ace’s legendary nap times that ended in near-disaster.

His stories are designed not just to make you laugh, but to remind you that even these larger-than-life brothers were and still are total dorks sometimes. And before you know it, you’re easing into sharing a few of your own stories, prompted by his gentle encouragement and the safety his presence provided.

If there was ever a moment where you hinted at wanting to join in on an activity or step outside your comfort zone, Sabo would light up like someone just told him there was free cake on deck. But instead of jumping up and down and looking crazy, Sabo’s celebration would be the dignified, internal kind.

Picture a boardroom in his mind filled with 10 tiny Sabos all jumping out of their chairs, high-fiving each other, and throwing confetti in the air. On the outside, he’d just offer you that calm, reassuring grin and a simple, “You’ve got this. And if not, we’ll laugh about it later, yeah?”

He’d be your biggest silent cheerleader, always ready with a patient hand to guide you or a subtle nudge if you needed it. If you wanted to join in on a game or join a conversation but hesitated, Sabo would seamlessly include you, making it feel natural and not like he was pointing out your shyness.

He’d say things like, “Hey, I think Y/N would be perfect for this—what do you think?” and then shoot you a wink that says, See? Not so bad, right? And when you took that first step, whether it was a comment or a hesitant laugh at a joke, Sabo’s inner cheering squad would be losing their collective minds.

So while Ace might be punching the air and Luffy would probably shout, “You did it!” at full volume, Sabo would play it cool—at least on the outside. But don’t be fooled. The minute he see’s you trying something new or making a move outside your comfort zone, those 10 tiny Sabos in his head would be throwing a full-on carnival, complete with fireworks and dancing.

And he’d just keep giving you that look that said, You’re amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Because to him, you’re always worth celebrating, no matter what.

If there’s one thing Sabo doesn’t tolerate, it’s someone messing with the people he cares about. So if he spotted you feeling uncomfortable or noticed someone trying to be intimidating, he’d swoop in with the subtlety of a master diplomat. Sabo wouldn’t make a scene, but instead, he’d redirect the situation like an absolute pro.

Maybe he’d throw out a well-timed joke, ask a question that shifts the focus, or suddenly develop an urgent need for your opinion on something random, like, “Hey, didn’t you say you know a lot about… apples?” The offender would be left blinking, and you’d find yourself in a new conversation before you even realized what happened. Crisis averted, all thanks to Sabo’s suave social maneuvering.

And then there’s Sabo’s sweeter side—his covert operation of affection. He knows that grand, dramatic proclamations can sometimes make you want to dive head-first into the nearest bush, so he’s perfected the art of subtle, heartfelt gestures.

He’d leave little handwritten notes tucked in places he knows you’ll find, maybe in your favorite book or slipped under your plate at breakfast. Each note would be filled with the kind of genuine, thoughtful words that would make your heart do an embarrassing little flip. They’d say things like, I know you’re stronger than you think, and I can’t wait for the world to see it, too, or The stars were beautiful last night, but not as much as seeing you smile today.

And don’t even get started on the letters. Oh, the letters. Sabo would write you these intricate, beautifully crafted notes that read like they came straight from the heart of a poet who’s just returned from a victorious battle.

He could have just finished a day of intense Revolutionary Army missions, covered in dust and exhaustion, but you’d still get a note that starts with, Hey, you. I’m thinking about you, and ends with some metaphor about how your presence makes the world brighter, even when he’s knee-deep in chaos.

You’d find trinkets, too—maybe a small charm he found that reminded him of you or a pressed flower from somewhere he thought was pretty. It’s the little things that would make your day and remind you that, no matter what chaos he’s wrapped up in with the Revolutionary Army, you’re always on his mind. And when you’d look up at him, cheeks flushed from finding yet another one of his notes or small gifts, Sabo would just grin that charming, lopsided grin and say, “Did you find it? Good. I meant every word.”

He’s protective, thoughtful, and romantic in a way that feels like it’s tailored just for you. And even if he’s balancing the weight of revolutions and strategic plans, Sabo makes sure you know that you’re not just part of his life—you’re the best part.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝒾 𝓈𝓅𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝑒𝓎𝑒 ౨ৎ

itoshi rin x reader. 1.4k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ spy au ﾉ spy!rin ﾉ spy!reader ﾉ rivalry ﾉ reader is quite infatuated with rin ﾉ a lil suggestive if you read between the lines :3

the glitz and glamor of the event you’ve found yourself at is blinding. between the crystal chandeliers and the light glinting off of everyone’s expensive accessories, you doubt that you’re going to find who you’re looking for—though, the thought only lingers for a mere moment.

there’s no way you could ever miss him.

whether it be keenly trained eyes or your personal interest, it doesn’t take your wandering gaze more than a couple of minutes to find your target within the crowd. he’s dressed to blend in with everyone else in black tie attire, slim-fit suit hugging the curve of his waist, highlighting his muscles. and he’s worn his hair just the way you like it, slicked back to expose his forehead, though some stubborn strands have strayed from the rest, turning the neat look into something more casual—sexy.

you watch from afar with a champagne float in hand and silently wonder who he put in so much effort for. saying you know rin well would be a gross overstatement—you’ve only become familiar with him through your missions, although you can confidently say you’ve never witnessed him dressed to the nines. it’s a good look on him.

swallowing the rest of your bubbly, you set the empty glass on a passing tray and look down to check your reflection on the shiny marble floor. as much as you’d love to stand here and observe rin all night, you have work to do.

your task is simple—intercept the handoff of a hard drive containing sensitive information.

you usually wouldn’t take on such a lackluster job but you jumped at the opportunity when rin’s name was mentioned. he’s representing the party meant to be receiving the intel—it’s a shame you’ll have to make his life harder by meddling in his affairs but it’s one part of the job you consider fun, even if it is at his expense.

you’re sure to stay out of his line of sight as you navigate the large ballroom in search of another character involved in the exchange. not much time passes before you spot the man and his presence alone is evidence that you're still on schedule—the handoff hasn’t happened yet.

the carrier is a new face, one you’ve never seen before. if his worrisome, flitting gaze is proof of anything, it’s that he’s never done this before. the fact that his people were dumb (or confident) enough to send an amateur makes you snort. but you won’t complain, after all, they’re making this process a whole lot easier for you.

and once you’ve got that hard drive, that’s when the real fun starts.

you quickly formulate your strategy before setting off to execute it. light steps carry you toward the man and while you're careful not to bump into anyone along the way, you purposefully knock into his shoulder once you finally reach him.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” you exclaim, holding onto his wrists with your apology. there’s something hard tucked beneath his right sleeve and you have to stop your lips from pulling up in a smirk. so predictable. “are you okay?”

“uh, yeah, i’m fine.” he seems distracted, like your collision disrupted his train of thought. that’s all the better for you, your deft fingers inching up between the sleeves of his jacket and shirt to snag the thumb drive.

“i’m just so clumsy,” you laugh to punctuate your statement, concealing the stolen item in your fist once you pull away. “well, you enjoy the rest of your night!” 

you slip into the crowd with a bit more urgency than you had before, eager to get the drive where it needs to be and make your exit without any problems.

when the cool air outside the venue meets your face, your mission is over—well, everything official about it, anyway. you’re still waiting on one planned aspect as you mosey around the back of the building and the sound of shoes scraping against pavement alerts you that it—he—is on the way.

you spin around to meet him face to face but as swiftly as you do, the man has you pinned up against the wall. the impact draws out a gasp at first, then a giggle. you didn’t predict that he’d be this rough but you quickly grow comfortable with his forearm against your collarbone.

he smells good, warm like cinnamon. it makes you wonder if he tastes like it, too.

“where do you think you’re going?” he spits out, brows etched together in a frown. it’s an intimidating expression, one you’re sure would have others in your position trembling, but instead of feeling any sense of unease or nervousness, you consider yourself lucky to see this side of him. it’s a far cry from his typical cool and collected exterior and while most would think that a scowl isn’t something you want to be on the receiving end of, the sight is nothing short of alluring to you.

“nowhere,” you tell him, tilting your head to the side and letting a smile take over your face, “i’m right where i want to be.”

his lip twitches in annoyance at that. “you have something i want. hand it over.”

“my heart? aw, rin, it’s already yours~”

he doesn’t seem to appreciate your nonchalance on the matter. “the hard drive. i saw you swipe it, now give it to me.”

“of course you did,” you say with a grin. this little interaction wouldn’t have been possible if you didn’t bank on the fact that rin would be keeping track of his collaborator’s movements. maybe you know him a bit better than you thought you did.

you sigh and meet his glowing teal gaze. “but i don’t have it on me.”

“where? where is it?”

“don’t worry, it’s safe in the hands of my associate.” you’re lucky that rin didn’t see you slip the information to a trusted friend on your way out. “and i’m willing to hand it over, but it’ll come at a price.”

rin’s irritation is palpable but his hold on you eases up as he considers your words. “how much?”

“it’s nothing really.” you roll your shoulders now that there’s a small gap between you and the building—not enough for you to leave, rin made sure of that much. you hold up your index finger. “one date. you and me.”

he scoffs. “you have to be joking.”

“i’m serious,” you tell him, not able to hold back the pout that graces your lips. “take me out to dinner and i’ll make sure those files get back to you without any trouble.”

without any trouble—the two of you must have different ideas on what defines “trouble” because going out on a date with you sounds fairly troublesome to rin. but he knows it’ll be his ass on the line if he turns up at the agency empty-handed. as troublesome as a date with you comes across as, facing a reprimanding sounds even worse.

“tomorrow night.” rin lets his arm fall to his side, freeing you from his cage. 

your hand comes up to touch your collarbone that’s now cold with rin’s absence. you wouldn’t mind having stayed that way a little while longer, though, his reluctant acceptance of your offer leaves you more than content.

getting him to spend a night with you is the real reason you took on this commission to begin with.

“that works for me,” you let rin know with a smile, stepping forward to stuff a card with your contact information into his pocket. tipping your head up to meet his eyes, you offer him one last sentence. “call me and i’ll tell you where to pick me up.”

you wiggle your fingers in a wave as you take your leave, only pulling your phone out when rin’s figure disappears into the night. the device rings upon clicking the contact of your associate. she picks up after two of them.

“hello?”

“hey. is that duplicate drive going to be ready by tomorrow morning?”

the woman snorts. “who do you take me for? it’ll be done in an hour.”

as much as you’re interested in rin, you can’t risk losing your job over romantic feelings. hopefully he won’t mind you having a copy of that information, too.

“good. the boss will have my head if i don’t bring that intel back.”

thanks for giving this a read! consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed ‪‪❤︎‬ (perhaps i will write about the date?)

[mangoshorthand]

ugh, ok listen. its stupid and cheesy and overplayed but i love the caught under the mistletoe trope. its stupidly corny and as annoying as christmas is, my dumb ass falls for it everytime. you’re my favourite writer for five, and if you could write something for this (or hit me with a bat to improve my taste) that’d be rlly cool. if not, dw and happy holidays.

Stupid, cheesy and overplayed? You just described my entire body of work! I've struggled writing for a while so I hope people enjoy this. Merry Christmas, weirdos x

Twelve Feet Away From the Mistletoe | Five Hargreeves / F Reader 2.8k words

Viktor was a friend of a friend who gradually became your own. 

He was supportive when you lost your job in September, and was even more practical help when you lost your apartment around Halloween. 

“There are like forty spare bedrooms. Technically I can do what I like with six of those since I own a seventh of the house. Plus you wouldn’t get in anyone’s way. There’s like…so much room. 

“Viktor, that’s kind but I’ll be fine. My parents say -”

“Don’t your parents live outside the city?” he interrupted, “I think it would be easier to find work if you’re here.”

“Yeah, it would, but I can’t pay any rent.”

“I don’t want rent. Stay a few months. Be my guest. I could use someone to help me deal with my crazy family anyway. It’s weird being back in that house.”

And so, you’d accepted. It was hard to refuse Viktor anything. 

‘Crazy’ was one word to describe his family. ‘Volatile’, ‘noisy’ and ‘infuriating’ were some others. 

And none were more infuriating than Number Five. 

You met him the first night you stayed, while Viktor was thrashing you at pool as the pair of you got gradually drunker on Moscow Mules. You weren’t really enjoying the game, but you were enjoying hanging out with him, and you’d just mis-cued spectacularly as Five entered the room.

The first thing you noticed was his scowl. The second, third, fourth and fifth thing you noticed was his looks. 

Dark. Pale. Jaw a razor lined angle, nose long and imperious. He moved with quick, confident grace as he crossed the room. It was as if every thread of carpet his shoes touched had been waiting until that moment, just to pave his way, and now all other treads to come would be incidental to the floor’s true purpose. Hands thrust self-assuredly in his pockets, he seemed to look down on you as if from a great height, although he was barely an inch taller. 

Cold green eyes looked you up and down.  

He cut a fine figure, but an arrogant one. Despite his looks, your overriding impression was only of rudeness, so you met the challenge of his gaze unflinchingly. 

After a moment surveying you, he turned to Viktor.

“Luther’s looking for you.”

“Why?” Viktor asked.

“No idea. I’m not your secretary.”

As Five’s gaze shifted back to you, Viktor took the hint and introduced you.

“She’s a friend of mine,” he said, by way of explanation, “she’s lost her apartment so she’ll be staying for a while.”

Five sighed at this, shaking his head at you with a dark chuckle.

“Is there a problem?” you asked, politely. 

“No. No problem,” he said, though his tone making it clear that there was, “It’s only that I’ve seen this play out a dozen times: my brother has a habit of picking up waifs and strays.”

“Don’t be dickhead,” Viktor murmured.

Five shrugged, smirking.

“Letting me stay for a few weeks because we’re friends is hardly ‘picking me up’, you said, bristling, “I’m sure Viktor will ask for your opinion when he wants it.”

Five smiled that infuriating, sarcastic smile of his. Even then, when you were angry with him, looking into his eyes was an experience you noticed for the way it made your heart beat.

“I guess I’m just a little protective,” Five said, delicately, “I know how susceptible he is to a sob story."

He looked at you insolently for a beat longer before addressing his next words to Viktor.

"Don’t let her take advantage of you.”

“Come on, Five,” said Viktor, almost wearily, “I can decide who’s taking advantage for myself.”

Five scoffed, at this, expressing doubt as clearly as if he'd spoken it.

Stinging with the injustice of Five’s snap judgment and his infantilization of his brother, you ground your teeth. You knew Viktor had a tough time as ‘Number Seven’ (always being told he wasn’t good enough), and for a moment you thought you could see that in Five’s treatment of him.

“Your brother’s a grown man. So why don’t you fuck off and go back to torturing small mammals, planning your next school shooting or whatever your We Need to Talk About Kevin - looking ass likes to do?”

Five looked back at you, in slight surprise, studying your angry face. After a short moment, he gave a tiny shrug and made a small noise of assent.

Then, looking back at Viktor:

“Do you want Thai food later?”

When he was gone, Viktor assured you that you’d just made as good an impression as it was possible to make. 

You doubted this, however. Five rarely spoke to you beyond a good morning and a good night. He was polite, but nevertheless guarded. 

It was strange, on the few occasions he had deigned to strike up a conversation with you, he took two routes: he'd either draw you out for no reason other than to challenge you on your opinions, or else ask odd combinations of questions. There was nothing odd in themselves, but in aggregate they felt...strategic. He asked what you liked to do, whether you lived with a roommate or partner in your last place, how you and Viktor met, how well you knew each other…the list went on. 

Perhaps he was still scrutinizing you, ensuring that you weren’t trying to use his brother in any way. 

It stung to feel that he still suspected you when you’d done nothing but accept a friend’s offer of help, but you were soon able to put it from your mind in the wake of the enjoyment you got from staying there and hanging out with the rest of Viktor’s family. Over the few weeks you were there, you indulged Luther, chatted animatedly with Diego, and laughed with Klaus and Lila. 

But still, and despite his polite superciliousness, only the oldest brother drew your eye as soon as he entered any room.

He unnerved as well as attracted you. Sometimes, you thought you caught him watching you, peering over whatever book he was reading with a steady look of contemplation. As soon as you noticed it, however, you concluded it was probably just absent-mindedness: you found him staring into space or at one of siblings just as often. 

You found a new job by mid-November, but Viktor persuaded you to wait for your first month’s paycheck to come in before you put down a deposit on a new place, so when it came to your last night staying with them there were half-assed string lights and tinsel hung haphazardly around Hargreeves manor. 

Those on the tree and the fire crackling in the grate were the living room’s only light. In the flickering, warm glow, even Luther’s piss-poor attempt at decoration looked passable.

With Christmas music playing softly in the background, the booze had been flowing. Ill-advised mulled wine followed ill-advised eggnog followed ill-advised mimosas, leading Luther and Sloane to already stagger off to bed.

Sprawled on one of the couches, Viktor leaned towards you, lowering his voice so as not to be heard over the noise of Klaus and Diego arguing over who had most right to the final gingerbread man. 

“I'll miss you, but at least when you're gone Five's crush might calm down."

“What?” you asked, too quickly to pass off as true ignorance.

“Come on, he’s been staring at you for the past three weeks.” Viktor smiled, teasing in his tipsiness, I’ve never seen him like this,” he added, fondly.

“Yeah, whatever.” you said, brushing this off with a roll of your eyes, “If he’s been staring at me, it’s probably only because I piss him off more than anyone else in the room.”

“We all piss him off.” Viktor said, reasonably, “Everyone he likes pisses him off.”

You looked at him doubtfully.

“Pretty weird way to be.”

Viktor shrugged.

“Well, he's definitely interested. The other day he asked if there was anything between you and me. Why else would he ask me that?"

You looked at Five covertly from the corner of your eye.

“Probably just checking I’m not some gold-digger moving in on that sweet sweet Hargreeves dough.”

“I don’t think he cares about the Hargreeves dough,” Viktor replied. 

“Yeah, well,” you murmured, hoping that this would be the end of the conversation. 

But Viktor didn’t oblige you in this. The drink was making him uncharacteristically tenacious.

“He’s into you. I’m sure of it. So you don’t like him?”

You sighed deeply, your own mild intoxication making it harder to bullshit him.

“I’m not saying he isn’t hot,” (Viktor visibly cringed at this remark), “but why would I be into someone who looks at me like I’m a problem?”

“I think that’s just his face,” Viktor said, more uncertain now, “but I hear you.”

The conversation moved on, and you chatted with the family lazily as, one by one they all filtered off to bed. Soon, it was just you, Five and Viktor who, when you turned to look at him after Klaus’s departure, had fallen asleep on the couch. 

Five caught sight of this and let out a small laughing breath. At the sound, you caught his eye and smiled, sharing the moment of humor.

At this reception, he got slowly up from his armchair and moved over to your couch. His usually confident movements were smaller than usual. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he was uncertain in this approach. 

“Too much eggnog,” you said, as he sat down, nodding at his snoring brother.

“Mhm.” Five agreed, “There’s not much of him and he’s no drinker.”

You fell back into silence. He was only a few inches from you now, and it was awkward; strangely awkward. you were just thinking how best to excuse yourself and whether you should wake Viktor, when Five spoke again. 

“So, you’re moving into your new place tomorrow?”

You cleared your throat. There should be nothing uncomfortable about this. This was just small-talk with your friend’s brother.

...Your friend's brother who apparently hated your guts yet had also appeared in your dreams virtually every night since you met him in varying states of undress.

Pulling yourself together, you turned to face him with a passable impression of ease. 

“Yeah. I’m all packed. The moving van will be here around 11.”

“Hm,” Five said.

It was a single syllable, yet its ambiguity in tone made you look at him more closely.

He noticed.

“Will you decorate the new place for christmas?” he asked, quickly.

“Probably not,” you said, trying to keep your tone conversational, “my parents are away this year so I’ll be doing Christmas alone. There’s no point in unpacking it all just to put it away again in a few days.”

Giving himself thinking time, Five shifted, letting out a little sigh as he repositioned himself. Holding his glass of whisky on his knee, he leaned back, resting his head against the couch cushions and watching you from beneath the dark hair now falling over his eyes. 

“That seems a shame,” he said, finally.

You shrugged, mirroring him unconsciously, leaning back against the cushions so that your faces were just over a foot apart

“There’s always next year.”

“You’d be welcome here.” he said, seriously, “It was nice having you for Thanksgiving.”

“I’d never assume Viktor would invite me.”

“But I’m inviting you.”

You looked at him with a confused expression, which he interpreted correctly:

“What? Is it too much to imagine I want you to be there?”

'Yes', you wanted to say.

“You called me a deluded hippy at Thanksgiving.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. You’re a progressive…an idealistic progressive.” 

He smiled, and your eyes flicked uncontrollably down to his lips. 

“And I only said that because you called me a fascist,” he continued, unaware of your unruly gaze flicking guiltily away from his mouth, “I know you weren’t being serious, but I don’t take that sort of accusation lightly.”

He responded to the question posed by your expression:

“I spent a lot of time in 1930s Munich. Not nice.”

You stole another glance at him and caught his grim face; handsome features clouded by too many dark memories.  

“I’m sorry,” you said, more softly than you’d ever spoken to him before. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, “I guess I’ve not given you the best impression.”

“No,” you said, disclaiming the idea unconvincingly, “it’s not exactly that…”

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, and you chuckled slightly.

“Well, I got the impression you wouldn’t like me to come to another family celebration, anyway.”

“And now I want to correct that impression.” he said, seriously, “I’d like to spend christmas with you. With all of us, I mean.”

You’d been looking into his eyes for too long now, fine lashes framing them, his pupils blown in the low light. Somehow, those eyes always gave you the impression you were being assessed.

…And for the first time, it occurred to you that perhaps you were being assessed: just not in the way you’d assumed.

You blinked and looked down, though you didn’t move your head from beside his.

“Thanks Five,” you replied, after a silence of seconds that felt like minutes. “I’d like that.” 

He smiled again, the corners of his mouth just twitching. It was as if he was trying to conceal just how much you accepting his invitation meant, but the lines around his eyes betrayed him. As you smiled in return, he couldn’t contain it further, and those gorgeous lips broke into a genuine, unrestrained smile.

And somehow, over the course of the conversation, your heads had shifted to a distance of no more than six inches apart.

You could feel his exhales on your cheeks. 

“I heard you and Viktor talking tonight.” he said, voice low, “He’s right about me.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks as he continued.

“I don’t think you’re a problem. Far from it, actually.”

“Oh,” you said. It was all you could say as he inched ever closer to you. 

You could have counted each of his eyelashes.

“And I also know that you think I’m hot,” he said, emphasizing the word with the ghost of his usual shit-eating grin back in his eyes, “so why not take the opportunity of being under the mistletoe and kiss me?”

You looked up to where he’d indicated. Across the room, above the fireplace, there was indeed a bunch of felt mistletoe, tied with a red, velvet bow: exactly the sort of decoration Luther would buy. 

“But we’re not under the mistletoe,” you said, hoping to give your racing mind and beating heart some time to take stock of this, “it’s twelve feet away.”

Five’s eyebrows twitched, and he looked quickly from you to the mistletoe and back again.

“Let me fix that,” he said, and suddenly your upper arms were caught in his grip.

Air crushed in on you as you both disappeared in a flash of blue, and then rushed away as you rematerialized beside the fireplace, mistletoe hanging overheard. You swayed from the surprise of unexpected teleportation, holding onto Five’s lapels for dear life as you tried to stay upright.

But his arms were around you, strong and solid. And his mouth was on yours, soft and yielding. You breathed his breath; tasted the sweet burn of scotch on his lips and felt yourself kissing him back, responding to a careful passion that you could sense might go further but for his self-restraint. 

His hands left your arms and came to cup your jaw, rising gooseflesh following the path of his fingers at the nape of your neck. You shivered at the sensation and deepened the kiss, your fingers automatically starting to gently tug into his soft, eucalyptus-smelling hair.

He made a low, appreciative sound against your lips but then, perhaps conscious of his brother sleeping on the couch, broke the kiss and stepped away.

You could do nothing but stand there: surprised, dazed, yet anxious to recapture his lips. The kiss had felt like one, shining, crystalline moment as it happened, but now it had already retreated too far over the horizon for you to stay satisfied.

You opened your mouth to say…you didn’t know what, but, grinning his infuriating grin, he held up a single finger to silence you.

“I'll see you on Christmas Eve. Stay a couple of nights.”

You nodded, mutely.

“It’s forecast to be cold though, so if you get cold in one of the spare bedrooms you could always-”

Now it was your turn to hold up a finger and silence him:

“Don’t ruin this with a crappy pickup line.”

He nodded sagely.

“Noted.” 

And with a small wink, he vanished in another of those blue flashes. 

Read part 2 >>

Request masterlist >> HERE

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

[ghostboneswrites2]

To help break free of writers block, I’m doing these. Enjoy 🍓

Young Daryl Dixon x Strawberry Reader

(a short little drabble)

(Fem!Reader) (Reader descriptions: freckles, hair long enough to be messy and put in a hair tie - no race or body type mentioned)

-18+ MDNI-

Masterlist

In his early twenties, Daryl had only two friends he dared to associate with. One of them was Gunner, a man of few words with a short fuse. The other, a guy called Wylie, like the cartoon coyote. He earned that nickname for a few reasons, but mostly due to his poor luck with women. The joke was that he’d chase them forever but he’d never actually catch them. The only girl in the entire town that would associate with him was his little sister, Y/N.

She was only a year younger than he was, but she was smarter than him by far. He was a dumb boy, with not much going on behind those bug-ish.

All in all, they were a trio of losers. Daryl had been the only attractive one of the bunch, and even he had zero game. The three of them would often hang out by the lake. A lake which had no name, proudly referred to by the locals as ‘The Lake.’

They’d lean against Daryl’s beat up old Ford, the same truck he’d always been working on in his dad’s driveway in high school. Merle always told him it was a lost cause — that they should have just junked it for a quick dime. Daryl was insistent, though, that he could get it running, and sure enough he did. It only costed him two years of his life and a handful of dead end jobs to afford the parts and pieces it required.

With a functional vehicle, a young man in his prime was surely unstoppable. As often as he could manage, Daryl would scoop up his two friends and find some kind of trouble to get into. That particular day, they opted for a dip in the lake. Georgian summers were no joke, but this particular summer was more than any of them could have anticipated. The record high temperatures had rendered many air conditioning units useless. The only HVAC company in the county couldn’t keep up with the calls. In simpler terms, it was hot as fuck outside.

“Hotter than a damn dingle berry in the devil’s ass-crack, I’ll tell ya that much.” Wylie joked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the dingy old Metallica shirt he’d just taken off.

The boys all mumbled in agreement as they stripped down into their trunks, excited to take a dip in the cool water.

“Least we picked the spot with the best view.” Gunner snickered as he looked around. The Lake was busy that day, as it had been all summer.

Young people and small families lined the bank of the water. Kids played and splashed, young couples took turns on the rope swing, women laid out on their towels and floats to soak up some sun.

One particularly bright young lady caught Daryl’s eye among the crowd, with her bright red top and torn up daisy dukes. The sun left a radiant glow on her skin as she shook out her messy hair from its previous updo. Freckles littered her skin like strawberry seeds, especially on a sunny day. It took him little time to realize she was Y/N, Wylie’s previously mentioned younger sister.

She notice the gang of merry idiots as soon as they noticed her. She rolled her eyes and strode over to them, glaring them down as she ate a fresh strawberry.

“And just what the hell are you three tit-for-brains doin’ here today?” She questioned suspiciously.

“Swimmin’, cause it’s hot. Just like everybody else out here.” Wylie defended.

“Surely it’s not ‘cause you knew I was comin’ out here with my friends today.” She pressed on. “Always followin’ us around like puppy dogs to catch a glimpse of my friends.”

Her eyes scanned over Gunner, then Wylie, before landing mischievously on Daryl. “Or, me.” She teased. Daryl scoffed.

“Yeah right.” He waved her off. His dismissive facade couldn’t hide the way his eyes lingered on her glossy lips as she sucked her finger clean of strawberry juices. He cleared his throat and gulped. “The hell y’all doin’ out here anyway? Y’ain’t got nothin else to do, like doin’ your hair and talkin’ ‘bout boys?”

“Ain’t no boys worth talkin’ about in this town, Dixon.” She fired back.

“I could think of a few.” Wylie chimed in, smirking at a pair of girls as they walked past in their bikinis.

“Please.” She snorted. “Ain’t a single lady in the state of Georgia that would touch any one o’ you buffoons with a ten foot pole.”

“That ain’t what your friend Gina said the other night.” Wylie said with confidence.

“Oh, that’s right!” Y/N snapped her fingers, as if attempting to recall something. “I believe what she said was… that your breath smelled so bad she nearly fainted tryin’ to hold her breath.”

Gunner and Daryl stifled their laughter as their friend had his ego torn apart once again by his little sister.

“Whatever, man. Let’s just go swim.” Wylie grumbled as he shuffled toward the water. Gunner followed after him, followed by Daryl. Y/N matched her pace to the young Dixon, eying him curiously through the corners of her lashes.

“Why do you even hang around with those two dimwits, Dixon?” She asked him, just as they reached the edge of the water where Wylie and Gunner were acclimating to the cold.

“There my friends.” Daryl shrugged, kicking off his shoes.

“Mm. Dead weight is what they are.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Daryl arched a brow curiously.

“Just that…” She trailed off, looking him up and down once more before she smirked. “It can be hard to appreciate a nice thing when it’s surrounded by garbage, that’s all.”

With that, she winked at him, and walked back over to her friends. She left him in disbelief for a moment, before he’d shake his head and follow his friends into the lake.

For the rest of the afternoon, he’d splash and joke with his buddies, occasionally leaving the water to pull a beer from their cooler and return. Sneakily, he’d pass a glance toward Y/N, but somehow she always caught him looking. Conveniently, she’d make sure to stretch it bend over just as he did, batting her eyes and licking her lips each time.

[jupitersfall]

cate hc’s? 😁😁 with a fem!reader who has water powers, and maybe they met in class instead of her and luke yk

Cate Dunlap Headcanons !

you met her in mr. brink's class when you sat next to her

mainly cause you didn't know anybody yet and you didn't want to look dumb sitting by yourself

but also cause you thought she was pretty

when class started, you realized you had forgotten a pencil

so you had to ask cate for one

which sparked a conversation

because who could be dumb enough to forget a pencil on the first day of class?

you, apparently

after that, the two of you continued to sit next to each other

and eventually became each other's first friend

loser!cate hehehe she's cute

over time you realized your feelings weren't so platonic

cue awkward flirting and shy giggling

staring at her while she talks about stuff cause when did she get so smart? when did her voice get so soothing?

cate didn't find out about your powers until she'd spilt her water bottle all over your notebook

gaping at the water as it floats off the table and into the air

she thought it was so cool though

making her favorite animals or different shapes out of water to impress her...

or so you could see her smile

who said that?! not me

one day you guys are talking in your dorm, and she mentions luke and all the sudden you're like what?? fire?? you like fire???

feeling very betrayed after 😞

jk lol but you were definitely a little bitter

"water is, like, way better than fire, you know. i would totally beat him in a fight."

like four months of pining later, and then the two of you are at a party, and you're a little too drunk, and cate is looking a little too pretty

and the two of you are alone, and she's staring up at you with those pretty blue eyes

and all of the sudden, you're leaning in to kiss her like you've done it a million times before

you were pretty sure it was just the alcohol in her system, because cate kissed you back

and then again, and again, until the two of you were making out in the back of this party, hands wandering over clothes like you were starving

the next morning you woke up in your dorm with a killer headache, and cate was beside you, drinking a cup of coffee and scrolling through her phone

"hey, finally. i was wondering when you were gonna wake up. don't worry, we didn't sleep together."

good, you wanted to be sober for that

but there was a long talk after, which didn't help your headache

after that day, the two of you were closer

it was a very unspoken change

you weren't sure why, but it didn't matter to you

you still got to kiss her, and touch her, and be with her

you didn't know when you became official, that had been pretty unspoken too

you only started noticing differences when girls would actively avoid you

jordan was the one that brought it up

"you're like a human magnet except you repel every girl at this school."

you go walking off to cate to ask her about it, cause who else could be the reason?

she acts innocent at first, all doe eyed and confused

"what're you talking about? maybe they just dont want to get in the way of us."

but she's got that sly little smirk on her face, and of course she'd be the cause

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry. i couldn't help myself, i thought it was funny. ill stop, though. promise you're mine?"

and of course you said yes. how could you even think about another girl when she's right in front of you?

not possible

anyways she's my baby

[natelia-aldelliz]

"So what's his damage," Soap whispers to him as he's floating above Ghost's sleeping form, in the plane on their way to Mexico.

Roach snorts. "Would be faster to tell you what's not broken, honestly. Though I guess his fiancé dying on him was probably the final straw, what convinced him to just... Close off, I guess."

Soap's face contorts in earnest empathy. "Ah shit, sorry," he says. "Did ye know them well?"

Roach just stares at him. From the little he's seen of him in the field, he's extremely competent, smart and resourceful. He's also apparently quite dumb. He's lucky that's exactly the kind of person Roach likes.

He sees the exact moment the realisation hits him, his pretty blue eyes going wide. "Oh, you're the- okay, damn, sorry man."

Roach chuckles. "You should have said 'that's rough, buddy'. It's been five years, I've accepted my fate. I'd just... Like for him to do the same."

Soap hums. "It's a complicated issue," he whispers. "But I have to say, most ghosts that haunt their partners like it better when they haven't moved on."

"Why would I want that," Roach frowns. "I want him to be happy. I want him to have friends. I want him to live his life."

Soap smiles.

"I'll have ye know I'm trying really hard to be his friend," he says.

"Don't take it personally when he treats you like an arsehole, it's on purpose, to make you flee and allow him to keep wallowing in his misery."

Soap nods. "Thanks for the tip."

"... You really mean it? You really wanna be his friend?"

Roach finds out right now and then that Soap's smile holds the power of the fucking sun.

"Yeah! He seems really cool and I love making friends."

That's a golden retriever in human form, Roach is sure of it now. A really pretty human form as well. Anyway-

"He's also really hot under his mask." Why did he say that?? Roach tries really hard not to facepalm. The man just met them, it doesn't matter if he knows he's Simon's type (and his), he just wants to be friends, what is he doing... He doesn't even know if he likes men! He can only blame that on the five years he spent without social interaction.

Not that he was that good at social interaction when he was alive, but that's not the point.

Soap sputters for a few seconds, cheeks pinker. That's... Interesting. Damn, he really has a one track mind sometimes...

"Hum, guid tae knaw," Soap says finally, his accent thicker. Is he that flustered? Does that mean Simon has his chances?

If someone had told him years ago that he would be flirting with a co-worker, as a ghost, on behalf of his unaware still living fiancé, he'd have laughed probably.

[theredpharaoah]

Dare I say we give Giles too much. I think him not giving Buffy the Slayer Handbook was dumb and ignorant. The Handbook didn’t just have rules for the Slayer, it was the definitive guide to magic on Earth and its history. The fact they never pull it out again after the first episode irritates the hell out of me. How helpful would that have been for all the Scoobies - Willow could’ve picked up magic way quicker. It probably would’ve helped Buffy hone the psychic abilities she never really developed. Remember how she’s supposed to be able to sense vampires and stuff? And in the comics, Erin had access to all the Slayer memories(I’m pretty sure) because he inherited the psychic side of the lineage. Again, that could’ve been cool to see and very helpful.

I also feel - as stated many times before - Giles completely failed with Faith. People talk about how Buffy built up that rapport with Giles and her friends - that she made their relationship the way it was. But that’s irrelevant because the relationship was present and stable at the time of Faith’s arrival. We see when Kendra comes that even the Giles is a bit taken-aback to her very by-the-book approach to being a slayer. So when Faith came - who is extremely similar to Buffy - how did Giles not immediately feel that paternal instinct he has with Buffy, Willow, and Xander? That sort of instinct comes easier the more people you consider to be your “children”. I mean it’s crazy that The Mayor had to take Faith out of that nasty ass motel. A literal demon had to go “that’s no place for a young girl”. And sure he had a motive but the fact that none of the decent people had already said it? And the way they handled the accidental kill of the evil assistant to the mayor? First of all, the Slayer killing humans is frowned upon but it’s not a hard and fast rule. I’m not saying they should just go around killing ppl, but I’m not going to feel bad that Faith killed a man who was working for demons anyway. And compare that to how they reacted to Buffy Killing Ted(when they thought she had); completely different reaction. And Buffy had exhibited far more animosity towards Ted, than Faith had for some random who got in the way.

Giles as an adult - and something of an educator - should’ve immediately clocked that Faith did not have the same upbringing as the other 3, that the Scoobies were falling into their childish instincts and alienating her, and he should’ve gone out of his way to include her and impress upon the others why they needed to accept her. Especially after they found out about her Watcher’s death and saw how terrified she was of Kakistos. Why did Buffy and Angel have to be the ones to find out Faith needed to be fought for - that she needed help to deal with her trauma. I was really disappointed in Buffy as she’d lost her watcher and relocated just like Faith. She also understood how lonely and dangerous it is being a Slayer. But I can’t blame Buffy all that much cuz she’s a kid. And Giles willing all of his things to Faith in the comics and only the Slayer Handbook to Buffy did not move me. Giles considered Buffy to be the “One True Slayer” was not a gag. Everyone considers her to be that, giving her this handbook after she’s been a Slayer for damn near a decade is insulting. She don’t need that shit no more - she had to learn it all on the job. And giving Faith his money so she could retire from violence? Faith’s violence wasn’t the issue, her relationship to it was. The whole thing read as very melodramatic and self-absorbed.

Giles was very childish and we see it all throughout the series, but especially in the later seasons. I mean when you actually think about it, he’s so ridiculous. Buffy was 22 at the end of the series. 22 and she has to take care of a teen sister, pay mortgage, bills, etc. Could you imagine that amount of responsibility at that age? Our society still considers 22 year olds to be pseudo-teens for the most part. And he left cuz he “didn’t want her to become dependent on him”…what type of shit? She was already dependent on you - you’d been her Father Figure since she was 16 and throughout a boatload of trauma. You pretty much raised the girl. And you know that - that’s why you had a dream of taking child Buffy to the fair. He’s human, but that doesn’t excuse the level of cowardice he exhibited for me.

Also, I think instead of killing Jenny in Passions, they should’ve had her live. I think she would’ve been great as Faith’s mentor. And while she didn’t take the Scoobies to task for blaming her about Angel and alienating her, I definitely think she would’ve gotten them together for their treatment of Faith. I also think she would’ve pointed out Giles’ differential treatments of the two.

[dollywheeler]

October 24th, 1996

Mike is such a DOUCHEBAG! What? Just because he’s back in town he thinks he can dictate how I live my fucking life?! I knew this would happen! Knew he would just go back to looking at me like the goddamn 5 year old he couldn't give a damn about! That was nothing but a nuisance!

As if I can’t take care of myself! God, if he thinks I give a shit about his opinion he’s going to be sorely disappointed! Sure, not jumping four feet in the air and possibly breaking my neck at seven in the morning where no one will find me for at least another hour, made sense. That I can place and admit to being dangerous! But just running? What? I’m so fragile I might twist my ankle?

Fuck, and the way he yelled at me? Like I’m some dumb child that should know better?? I do know better! Which is why I always leave a note with my exact route and expected time of return - not even because I think anything might happen, but because I have common human decency and don’t want mom to worry when she wakes up to find me gone! Something he could’t give a rat’s ass about!!

Seriously, it’s so fucking rich that he thinks he has the right to scold me about running around Hawkins - Hawkins of all places, as if there are more boring towns than this! - in the dark without adult supervision! I’m so mad it’s insane. I don’t think I’ve ever been this pissed off before, it’s genuinely quite impressive.

To think that an hour ago I was so content to wake up early and go for a run before school. I was in such a good mood too - he ruined it.

He just doesn’t understand! I already can’t practice my routine - not the full, difficult parts of it - so the least I can do is work on my cardio and stamina! But when I tell him that he’s all like “just ask a friend to come along next time!” And I try to tell him that’s not an option but he just - ugh. He doesn’t get it. There’s no point in practicing extra when everyone knows you’re doing it. It will just make everyone think I’m being a try-hard or a suck-up or whatever! Or just think I’m being weird for needing the extra practice!

Great, now I’m crying again because I'm pathetic! Fucking Mike. Fuck this shit.

Okay, so I didn’t actually finish this entry, for many reasons. I didn’t even start it properly - not that the “dear diary” really matters, I guess, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Anyway, even though it’s been hours, I’m still pissed off, don’t worry, but at least now I have the time and state of mind to finish. I’m skipping English as I’m writing this down - I know it’s terrible for a lot of reasons.

1, my school record, but what is Mike going to do? Report me? Fuck that. And fuck him.

2, It’s letting him win. I recognise that. But I guess I’m weak because I really can’t deal with seeing him right now. God I hate him.

3, Danny is probably wondering where I am, which means I’ll have to tell him what happened.

Damn - maybe I didn’t think this through. I can probably spin it - say I wasn’t feeling well or something. Except I don’t want to lie to him either… Well, it’s not technically a lie. Still, I’ll probably just tell him some part of the truth - he can know I was pissed at Mike. He doesn’t have any siblings but he’ll probably understand anyway.

To think that for a while I considered myself an only child… tragic. I was so fucking close to just having a cool older sister that was too far away to meddle in my life. I was in control of my life - I still am!

Mike just thinks he has a say all of a sudden - which he doesn’t. Two weeks of being civil does not a brother make!

Seriously, it was so disorientating to just be running one minute, thinking nice thoughts, wondering about the english assignment, only for Mr. Wheeler himself to actually see me and come storming out freaking out about me running in the dark! It's Hawkins in October! It's dark all the time!

I was so shocked, I could barely defend myself. God, the neighbours will probably have wondered what the fuck was going on - If our shouting match didn’t wake them I’m sure they’re dead.

The worst part was that I still had to go to school after… I'm sure everyone could tell I was off. Or at least Dylan would have, if she hadn't been a thousand miles away today herself. I'm kind of glad for it. Danny sending me worried glances was more than enough, and just getting to listen to Whitney rattle on about yearbook and today's lunch and whatever else was not living up to her standard was nice. Distracting.

Still, I wish I could just go home already - I want to lie down and mope and pretend like it's still three months ago when Mike was far far away! Then I wouldn't have to deal with his judgement and his meddling and his passive-aggressiveness towards mom and dad. And I could just kiss my boyfriend in school without fearing he might see.

Sadly, I still have cheer practice and I can't skip it. It's already bad enough that Dylan has a brace around her wrist again.

This just reminded me I'm still wearing Mike's bracelet - it really shouldn't make me feel better but it does. It's petty as hell, and he probably doesn't even remember it exists, but whatever.

He should just go back to not remembering me.

- Holly

[secretmellowblog]

I hope tumblr doesn’t die because No other social media site is as good for long, thoughtful, nuanced analyses of media. Yeah tumblr is also full of dumb shallow hot takes and shitposts, but you can make dumb shallow hot takes and shitposts anywhere —-there are no other popular social media sites that let you easily format and share long essays on the media you enjoy, and then have conversations around those long essays.

Fandom on all the other big social websites just seems so utterly …shallow. And it’s not because people on other websites aren’t thoughtful or don’t have deep things to say, but because these sites’ formats do not allow for any kind of long nuanced conversations.

Tiktok? Things have to be crammed into a super short video with an attention grabbing headline, and you can’t hyperlink sources. Instagram? Everything has to be in an image format with strict limits on length, and nothing will be shown to your followers anyway because of how Instagram’s algorithm works, and also no hyperlinks. Twitter? Strict character limits, and if you split it into threads it means someone can retweet a part of your essay completely out of context, and also very little freedom with formatting.

It frustrates me so much. If I go into the Tumblr Les Mis fandom I’ll find really compelling long essays on the original novel (including essays being written for the ongoing book club) on the story’s historical context, or the parallels between different characters and their narrative foils, or the way the politics were defanged for certain adaptations, or the way Victor Hugo’s personal life and failings affected the novel. But on tiktok I’ll get the same five shallow stale jokes from 2013 over and over, or maybe the same “DID U KNO THAT IN THE MUSICAL JAVERT AND VALJEAN SING THE SAME LEITMOTIF” style of basic Intro To Les Mis 101 For Babies media analysis (which is what Tiktok considers deep media analysis), or stale “LOL JAVERT ACTS GAY” style jokes as if we’re living in the early 2000s and calling a character gay is still a funny punchline. And it’s impossible to have any kind of deeper thoughtful discussions than “DID U KNOW <x Kool Fact>” or “lol <shallow observational joke>” on tiktok because the platform just isn’t built for building niche communities around in depth conversations. it’s built to churn out bland generic content for as wide an audience as possible, which means pointing out a small detail like an Easter egg and calling it “cool” is deep media analysis, because you cant have longer more in depth conversations without alienating people. And I hate it. Bc like, it’s not because there aren’t smart clever thoughtful people on Tiktok— there are—it’s because Tiktok isn’t built for these conversations, and anyone who wants to have them has to really fight against the things the website encourages or prioritizes!

Or like, if I go into the LOTR fandom on Tumblr, I’ll find tons of extremely long analysis and fanfic, and analysis of queer readings of the story. On Instagram people will still shriek in terror if you suggest the characters are gay, and most of the popular lotr posts are stale memes recycled from like 2007. There’s really no room for thoughtful media analysis, and even if you did create it, instagram’s algorithm would make sure no one saw your post anyway.

And everyone’s going to say “the algorithm shows you what you’ve seen before so maybe it’s your fault ~” or whatever but i do look for things I want! I do! “The algorithm” doesn’t know me or what I want or value or care about beyond this meaningless surface level.

The only thing that was worthwhile about these sites was the great visual art people were creating, but now the websites are overwhelmed with meaningless soulless machine-generated AI glurge, and it sucks. It just really, really sucks.

I’m honestly confused about why people don’t use tumblr….There’s no character limits! You have freedom with post formatting, and can insert images throughout textposts to illustrate specific points you’re making beneath the paragraphs where they’re necessary! You can add hyperlinks, linking to your sources! People can reblog your entire essay and share it, and then add on with commentary that then becomes part of a larger conversation! People can find your stuff through the tagging system! Reblogging means posts stay in circulation for years instead of being dead 30 minutes after they’re uploaded! If you want to have genuinely interesting text conversations about a piece of media, there really isn’t a better social media website for it anywhere.

To be clear, I’m definitely not saying Tumblr media analysis is *always* clever and thoughtful or etc etc. there are shitposts and nonsense here too (plenty of which I’ve created lol.) I’m saying that Tumblr gives people the tools for in-depth insightful analysis to happen. Whether people choose to do it or not is their own decision XD. But the reason lengthy in-depth conversations and book clubs are even possible here is because Tumblr is built for allowing these conversations to happen, in a way other sites simply aren’t.

It’d really suck if it died, because it’d be a huge blow to…being able to easily find long insightful in-depth media analysis written by fans. I currently don’t think there’s anything that could replace it.

[pendarling]

In The Rain

Thx for 1k+! This is a lot longer than anything I've ever written. This piece is specifically dedicated to June's Men's Mental Health Awareness Month

It had been a long day after work.

Hero didn't like that just being a hero didn't fulfill the requirements for getting paid enough to do their bills. It was annoying, yes, but after a hard day at work and finally finishing their taxes, Hero decided to reward themselves with something to eat.

Although it was raining outside, the curry stand in the neighbourhood was one of the best. They've been craving it all week.

Hero sat at the end of the table on a stool. A small shabby canopy spread above them, hiding them from the pelting bolts of the rain. 

"Thank you." Hero took the plate of rice and lamb curry, their favourite. The teen behind the stand smiled at them and left to continue working on their homework at the back.

With cold hands, Hero picked up the spoon and immediately savoured the taste of the curry. It was an intoxicating flavour they couldn't get out of their head. 

Within minutes they found themselves enjoying their time.

"Alone, Hero?" A cool whisper came from behind them. Hero froze in their spot, recognizing the voice instantly.

"Villain…" they whispered back.

Villain sat on the stool next to them, eyeing their face and enjoying their reaction.

"I'm impressed you know who I am. I thought I'd have to identify myself to you." They gave a crooked smirk; their clothes were covered in drops of water. 

They weren't sure how the other found them. Though they always knew they were strategic when they made their moves. It shouldn't have surprised them the way it did when Hero locked eyes with their worse nemesis in the most unexpected of places. Yet, it did.

Villain tapped their knuckles onto the table. "Hey, let me have whatever they're having." Villain gestured in their direction. An older gentleman behind the counter glanced over and gave a curt nod.

Hero swallowed timidly. They weren't sure what Villain planned to do with them. Honestly, it should be evident that they were at risk as soon as they decided to become a hero. Hero regretted not bringing a weapon. It seemed after weeks of hard labour, they didn't consider themselves more than their weighing bills.

They hesitantly looked at Villain. 

And they stared back.

Their eyes shot down to their plate. Their appetite slowly disappeared for fear of getting attacked. 

"So, where have you been, Hero?" They heard the stool beside them creak and sensed them lean in.

Hero considered playing dumb and pretend they had mistaken them for someone else, but quickly shut that idea down when they realized they already said Villain's name earlier. 

"Look, I don't want to fight here." They shakingly whispered, "If you want to take this somewhere else, that's fine. Just not here."

Villain chuckled, the sound of thunder seemingly echoing the laughter. For some reason, at that moment, Hero felt more fear for Villain than any storm.

Large waves of hot smoke seeped out from the food stand. It clashed with the frigid air, and usually, it was a lovely atmosphere, but today they feared associating a time like this with their encounter with Villain. 

A plate set in front of Villain, they averted their attention to the server. "Oh, and uh… I'll take their bill too." Villain gave Hero a quick pat on the shoulder and slid the server a bill.

"I don't owe you anything." Hero spoke.

They shrugged, unconcerned, "I didn't do that because I want a favour. I only did that to show you I mean no harm, really."

Hero doubted it. Villain picked up the spoon and dipped it into the curry hesitantly. "What is this stuff anyway?" They smelled it lightly. Hero felt amused at their findings, and the look of confusion from Villain had reminded them that even their worse enemy was still a human in some aspects.

Hero pushed their rice to one side. Villain curiously peeked over at them as they began scooping the rice and curry into a piece of naan bread. Hero picked it up with their hand and ate it calmly, still trying to devise a plan to evade Villain.

"What are you doing?" Villain asked.

Hero let the taste simmer in their mouth for a moment before replying. "Eating. What do you want me to do?"

"With your hands?"

"You don't have to use your hands."

Villain looked down at their plate and lifted the flatbread. They tore a piece from the corner and bit into it. 

Hero signalled their eyes down at the curry and back up again. Villain picked up their spoon and ate the curry. They took a few seconds to evaluate what they were eating.

"Well?" Hero waited.

"It's not bad."

They sat together, eating until the rain lightened up. By the time they were finished, Hero could still smell the spices on their fingers no matter how often they wiped it off. 

Villain turned to them. "Alright, let's go" They stood up, and Hero saw them pat at their pocket. It was likely some weapon they kept on themselves. They didn't take Villain as someone who'd hurt them, but the eerie deliverance of their words was unsettling enough to get them to follow Villain. 

They strolled toward a dark, sleet car parked beside the busy road up ahead. The clouds were just about dispersing, and as far as Hero could tell, it was late into the evening. 

Villain opened the passenger side door, an arm blocking them from behind. Probably to prevent them from running away, although they didn't have the energy to do all that after eating so much. They tilted their head, and Hero took that as a command to get inside.

From the passenger side compartment, Villain removed a pair of handcuffs.

"Are you serious?" Hero wondered what they had gotten themselves into.

"Sorry," they opened the cuffs, "hold out your hand for me." 

They scoffed but did so accordingly. They lifted their right hand. The cuffs locked their wrist loosely with a small click, and the other side clipped onto the side of the chair. "This is ridiculous."

Villain shut the door and walked to the other side. They slammed their side shut and turned the engine on. "No seatbelt?"

They looked over at them. Hero shook their wrist with the cuff.

"Right." They sheepishly laughed and moved across them to fix their belt. Hero sunk in deeper into their seat to avoid contact. Their face lit up brightly at the proximity. 

Cinnamon.

Villain smelled of cinnamon. Despite sitting at a curry shop for an hour and a half with them, despite the overwhelming spices and despite the sweet rain surrounding them, Villain smelt like cinnamon. Hero's hands stilled when they felt them slightly brush against their own. 

"Is that alright?" 

"Uh…"

Hero struggled for words. They had never noticed Villain looked so different without their mask. After all, they'd never been this close. Hero never felt the need to get personal with Villain. Their features threw them off, and for a second, they felt embarrassed for acting as they did at the stand. They instantly regretted all their snappy comebacks and swallowed.

Why were they still so close? Didn't they know they didn't want them to hear how hard their heart was pounding? Had Villain always looked this good, or were they just confused?

They nodded frantically.

…

It might've been the time or the food, but whatever it was made them sleepy. It had to be late into the night, but Villain kept driving, on and on and on… Through endless stretches of road.

"Where are you taking me?" They finally said.

"You'll see when we get there."

That wasn't much of an answer. They sighed deeply and stared at the dark sky with beads of colourful lights around the city and car headlights.

"Anyway," Villain tapped on the steering wheel, "where have you been? Haven't seen you out fighting crime, never mind the newspaper."

Was this what it was about?

"It's nothing."

"Yeah, right, like you can get me to believe it's nothing."

Hero looked down at their knees. They didn't know. They didn't have an answer.

Yes, they've been working, but they lost the thrill of being a hero a long time ago, and part of them convinced themselves they were never interested in returning. 

There did exist a time when they had fun doing the protecting, but that excitement… died.

That, of course, wouldn't be an acceptable answer for Villain.

"What did you do? Stay at home? Or…" they continued. 

They did stay at home. It was less mentally straining than whatever the public was getting them to do.

"How about… you tell me where we're headed, and I tell you where I've been."

That seemed fair. The only problem was they still hadn't found an excuse elaborate enough to hide their days of mind-numbing boredom and emptiness.

Villain came to a red light and faced them, "Okay. I'm… don't get scared, but I'm taking you to see my boss."

"Supervillain?"

They licked their teeth and glanced at the red light. The windshield wiped away at the small speckles of rain, blurring the window further. "Yes."

"… bullshit."

Villain's fingers tapped rhythmically on the wheel. "I don't know what else to tell you." The light turned green, and they continued driving.

"Do you think I'm some kind of idiot? Tell me where the hell you're taking me."

"I'm telling you the truth." Their eyes never left the street.

"Like a criminal would do that." They mumbled. The other gave them a look that shut them up. Hero leaned to the window and looked outside, their sleepiness returning.

They didn't like being trapped inside this car. They hated how the road looked so depressing and lonely.

This was just fantastic. 

Exactly what they needed. Getting kidnapped and possibly killed for some stupid villainous act. Hero's leg anxiously jumped up and down, waiting for this mysterious location.

…

The moment their eyes opened again, they caught sight of a dim blue sky. It was still raining.

Hero rubbed their eyes.

Curry. It still smelled of curry; Hero felt homesick already. They didn't feel like going home, though, as there was nothing for them there, but it still gave them the anxiety to be out this long. 

The jacket over their body slid off. 

They didn't remember this. It didn't belong to them. Was this Villain's? Hero lifted it off their body and stared at the soft knitted edges and long sleeves. They didn't expect them to be considerate. They had thought they would only use them for intel later on when they got to meet their boss, but being cared for? 

It made them blush. They pressed the jacket up to their nose and took a whiff of it shamelessly. 

Cinnamon.

Their head became light. 

Kidnapping wasn't supposed to be this much fun, but it was. Hero smiled warmly, their heart singing with excitement. Had they always been this nice? Was this something Villain did for everyone?

They slowly set down the jacket onto their lap. Yeah, it might've just been a moment of consideration; it was best not to look into it too deeply. Not a lot of people would consider Hero popular or a favourite among the crowd of other heroes. It was probably a thoughtless action that wasn't meant to feed into their fantasy.

Stupid.

The seat next to them was empty; Villain was no where to be found. Although the car sat running and kept them warm. The light rain from earlier still drizzled against the windows. Hero caught the sound of an argument.

Their eyes squinted as they looked around. Eventually, they saw Villain and a group of others through the rearview mirror. They stood in front of the well-lit gas station. Hero could hardly tell what they were saying through the rain, but only about a minute later did Villain turn around.

Should they fake sleep? Were they supposed to be up?

In their panic, Hero froze. Villain opened the car door and clamoured in. "Oh? Good morning." They whispered. 

Hero thumbed the jacket. Their eyes were sorrowful for treating Villain negatively all the time when all they received were pardons. Hopefully, they would see the end of their bad behaviour; karma would hurt.

Perhaps this was just a decisive plan to guilt-trip them into following Villain obediently. 

"You can hold on to my jacket, for now I won't need it." 

Villain pulled out of the lot and back onto the road again. 

It would be another long silence until they pulled up to a large building with a sign next to a line of other stores. Hero, confusingly, stared out at the place. It didn't look anything like a villain's lair.

"I don't think you answered my question," Villain turned the engine off. 

"You're persistent." 

"You're observant." 

Hero held their ground and remained silent. Villain clicked their tongue when they realized Hero wouldn't give in yet. "I heard you quit."

It shouldn't have hurt when they heard that, but it did. 

Hero loved their job. They never meant to leave the way they did, but it hurt to hear that speculation of them quitting had reached Villain. 

Hero held onto tears. The last place they wanted to cry was in Villain's car out in God knows where.

"You know, I was hoping you would just talk with me. I didn't mean to kidnap you but uhh… I really didn't have any options." 

The rain sounded outside a bright ray of light flickered across the sky. "I knew you lied to me." Their voice came out much more wavering than they wanted to. Hero still refused to make eye contact with their nemesis. They rubbed the palm of their hand against the tears streaking down their cheeks.

They took a moment to catch their breath though it was clear Hero was crying now. Their breathing was sharp as they tried to relax their nerves and take control futilely. 

"You know it's pretty damn hard working 8-9 hours of shifts." 

Villain let them speak and listened attentively. 

"I waited all my damn life to- to- to what?" They whipped their head around to Villain, their face red and wrists flicking the air. "To what, Villain? I don't even know what I want!" They sniffled and leaned back into the seat. "And here I am, getting my life screwed over for little reward."

Hero lifted their sleeves to wipe at their face roughly. 

Villain awkwardly waited; they never encountered someone crying before. Usually, someone else did the comforting. They weren't used to that, but it was worth trying.

They reached out and placed a hand on their shaking shoulder with some reserve. "Uhm… I don't know how to do this stuff, but I didn't mean to lie when I said I was taking you to my boss. I just wanted you to tell me what was going on. It's unusual for you to disappear for this long."

Hero looked up at them, their eyes still watery and adjusting to the dark setting. They could barely make out Villain's face, but their words were clear.

"I had thought… nobody would realize if I had just… stepped out of the picture." They licked their lips. "It seemed like no one wanted to care anymore." Hero choked on their sob, a pain held tight onto their throat.

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, Hero." They moved their hair to the side. "I'm here, Hero. I care about you. You don't think I wouldn't have come if I didn't?" 

"I don't know why I always feel… isolated."

"You shouldn't have to."

Hero smiled at them, ease blanketing over them at last. They weren't sure for how long they would stay this way until Villain asked, and to be fair, that's all they wanted to hear, even if it was just one person asking. That was enough, maybe even too generous of them, but that was just the afterthoughts talking.

~~~

MASTERLIST

[mouwrites]

hi i was the one who asked ab the character match up thing but i also have a request!

could you write headcanons of being best friends with lloyd garmadon (and a slight unaddressed undertone of them having crushes on each other maybe)

like they’re really dumb and make fun of each other all the time but would die for each other easily and they have starfarrer marathons and play video games together and all that junk

totally fine if not though!! ⭐️🌟

Absolutely!!

Ninjago - Being Lloyd’s Best Friend (?) ;)

You guys met when he was on a mission

The ninjas were on the hunt for an ancient magical artifact, which you just happened to remember finding as a child

You guided them through the wilderness, secretly doubting your own navigational skills

That and the fact that you weren’t sure it was even there anymore made you obviously anxious

Lloyd, who was following the closest behind you, noticed the way you chewed your cheek and wiggled your fingers

You locked eyes once, and the look he gave you was the gentlest, most trusting yet understanding look you’d ever seen

Your anxiety melted away as you gazed into his deep green eyes

Then, realizing you were staring, you giggled awkwardly and apologized

That was how your very first conversation began

Lloyd was just trying to keep you calm so you could focus, but he completely forgot his goal when you mentioned Starfarer

“You like Starfarer?”

“Yeah, haha. I know it’s a little childish—”

“I love Starfarer!”

“No kidding?!”

Honestly, you had no idea where you were at that point

You were just taking random turns while you gushed about the series

(Much to the annoyance of the others following close behind)

By some miracle, you eventually found the artifact

On the way back, Lloyd explained what it was and what he needed it for

You thought he was so cool

You demanded to have him update you when the mission was completed

You exchanged numbers before finally departing

Less than five minutes after he left, you guys were already texting up a storm

You found out you actually had much more in common than being Starfarer fans; for one, you both loved video games

You compared which games you’d played and which you hadn’t, making vague promises to get together and play the ones you hadn’t

Needless to say, you guys text a lot

Lloyd is frequently gone on missions, but he always keeps his phone nearby

Calling you is his favorite way to pass the time when traveling

You keep him updated on more worldly matters, like when a new Starfarer comic is going to be released

He tells you about his fantastic adventures in return

Secretly, you both think to yourselves as the other speaks: Man, they’re the coolest person in the whole world…

Lloyd tries to visit whenever he can

Playing video games and goofing off with you always makes his day

He’ll lie awake at night recollecting your jokes and bursting into laughter all over again

You lie awake at night envisioning him on his missions, your heart racing as you picture him escaping peril time and time again

So, when one of you texts the other late at night, you’re both awake anyway

Your late night texts are different from daytime texts

You talk about deeper things: life, death, your pasts, anything and everything

You don’t really do this when you meet up; no, that time is reserved for teasing and goofing off ONLY

But you both sort of wish you did talk like that in real life, though neither of you bring it up

You just push down that stirring in your chests when you sit just a bit too close, or when you stare for half a second too long at your friend’s face

A rather pleasing face…

anYWAY you guys also share a huge sweet tooth

Snacks are a must whenever you hang out

And if you bake… oh man

You will immediately become Lloyd’s favorite cook

Even if you’re nowhere near Cole’s or Zane’s level, Lloyd will stand by his opinion that your goodies are better than theirs

You guys would ABSOLUTELY go to fan conventions together

Matching cosplays!!

If you cosplay a ship, you’ll awkwardly agree to do cute poses together when people want a picture

Again, just push down that stirring in your chest when you hold each other…

The other ninjas don’t tease Lloyd about you being his s/o

Mostly because they aren’t sure if you guys are actually dating or what

Lloyd doesn’t notice their skepticism though, he’s too focused on being silly with you :)

Thanks for reading! And thank you anon for the request :) take care guys <33

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep1 Musings - Looking for Home: Louis, Claudia & Daciana

They flip between siblings and parent so much even I was getting whiplash--no wonder Lou's confused. U_U

This was EEEEEEEEVIIIIIIL, AMC! 😭 Louis carrying Grace's wedding portrait, and using it to FAKE his identity in Europe, after Grace couldn't even go to Europe for her own honeymoon cuz Paul died--STOP IT! 😭😭

And you can hear just a few quick seconds of the DPDL lietmotif that always plays for Grace, Paul, and sibling!Claudia, before it takes this SUPER dark and ominous tone--the song has been tainted, just like Lou's relationship with Grace and Claudia was tainted.

Go AWF, Claudia!

And then she finds ONE, and it was so heartbreakingly touching.

I was hoping she was Alessandra, but nope, she's an AMC!OC, Daciana. I'm assuming they were nodding to one rando revenant:

And she is obviously the same "Anna" the kids were singing about--(very Gaunter O'Dimm of them, I love it 💀)--living like frikkin Baba Yaga in a grimy castle in the woods.

Daciana killed her own fledgling after Claudia blinded him--after the revanant AND Daciana attacked them first, but whatever. Cuz she said he wouldn't be able to hunt/feed with no eyes--so it can't heal; her fledglings are too effed up. She's officially the last one in the area.

And I get it now--the bear(?) head Claudia breaks off of the dead vampire's sarcophagus was a heraldric figurehead. Claudia showed it to Daciana, as a way of asking her who that dead vamp was.

She didn't want to tell them her story or hear theirs--but she wanted them to know about Cezare Romulo (RIP). (It's crazy how in 5 minutes The Vampire Daciana was way more effective than a whole hour of Dierdre Mayfair. 🙄😒) She complimented Claudia's blood, saying it tasted like the cream of the crop. Daciana only told them her name, and that she was waiting for her children--fledglings or real ones, who knows (I bet both).

Only for Daciana to kill herself right in front of them (RIP). 😔🔥

This is so sad, but it was obvious she was gonna do that.

Stop teasing the Children of Darkness after this Alessandra fake-out. She's got the same darkness in her that Nicki (AND Louis) had. And we know where that means. 🔥💀🔥

These vampires are STARVING--hungry for family, love, home: LIFE.

So is Claudia! 😭😭😭 She wants a blood spouse! She wants a companion!

So I LOVE that Morgan clocked Louis on Grace's photo--that ain't yo wife! The gaydar was beeping the second your pretty arse walked in!

Like, it's been established that Louis is a terrible liar-you don't need an investigative journalist to figure that much out. Louis is TOO honest--he was dumb AF for telling Morgan his real name! I get why he did it in the book--again: desperate to make a connection.

But on the show it comes across way different--Louis almost immediately tells Morgan his name (he doesn't do that for Emilia, even though SHE called him pretty! Istg I was picking up some flirtatiousness with Lou & Morgan; put those pheromones AWAY 😂). But you come across MIGHTY SUS if your Black arse is going around switching identities on all these twitchy Europeans, Louis!

Like baaaaaasicallllllyyyyyyy!!! 🤦 You see them shooting up corpses just to make sure--you think they won't shoot YOU!?!

Anyways, it's so cool that they made Morgan a photographer--so is THIS why Louis starts taking photos!? 🤩📸

Cuz I've been wondering how Louis makes money in Paris so they don't have to pickpocket anymore?

I love that they included this.

No matter where they go, they have to pose as Black servants and maids and VALETS and SLAVES, white folk are the same regardless of the country.

Which was an interesting parallel with Daciana, and how much they were hyping up America.

She was clearly nuts, but smart & sane enough to realize that 2 (two!) Black vampires had fled their oh-so-great "land of the free" to come to HER busted AF blown up war-torn country, so why should she expect to have any happiness over there?

I don't know a lick of Romanian, but I wonder if the "another one" she was referring to was the soldier, or the country. As Daciana realized that no matter who she made her new fledgling, and no matter which country she ran to, she'd be alone & unhappy without the people she loved--her HOME.

Home is where the HEART is! Claudia's been homeless this whole time! Daciana's got that huge castle, but lives all alone--she can't make proper fledglings. Meanwhile Louis still thinks NOLA is home, even after they killed everyone who knew them--"including" Lestat!

*sigh* I hate this effing show, it's so dang good. 😭