#fun things i wanted to point out for those curious

[soudont]

made personal reference sheets (for my own hcs/design details/colors)

[thisisnotthenerd]

a few clarifications for those of you wondering about the timeline:

i, a human being, do need sleep occasionally. i also have things to do. thus, any time i was watching was usually condensed to free time or while i was completing other work, including studying for midterms and practicing for presentations. i did not watch while in class or attending anything; i strictly watched at home. no dips into the podcast either.

the caveats of my nein bender: 2x speed for the adhd, skipping breaks, jumping to the intro, skipping recaps because i was consecutively watching episodes. otherwise it was a pretty straight shot. i watched the ads sometimes, but usually took them as bio breaks if i needed it.

i started on march 24 and finished on april 16, pretty much precisely the 23.5 (12 hours a day) days it takes to watch all of c2 at 2x speed. without breaks or the intros it cuts that time down to 21 days, so i had time for a few off days.

thus, if i kept the episodes running throughout my day, at 2x speed, i could hit an average of 6 episodes a day, with an absolute maximum of 8 given that some of them run a tad bit shorter.

anyway, some threads:

they really stumble into a bunch of potentially world-changing items on a whim, especially early campaign. the beacon, the cloven crystals, calianna's bowl, shards of the star razor, the happy fun ball, jester's paints, etc.

the flavor of their combat descriptions are really unique and fun, even from the beginning. while their versatility means that they have the potential to really just hone in and get the job done, they play with interesting complications and make their fights dynamic.

leadership is a curious thing. i don't think there's a singular leader, but they pass the mantle and keep clear direction.

fjord is their captain/face, taking command on the sea and taking the lead on social engineering and strategy. he took on a lot of moral guidance early on, but then received it from caduceus

beau is an investigator, guiding their interactions with the cobalt soul and seeking out information about everything. despite being reluctant initially, she grew into her role in a way that significantly aided the group

caleb is the brain behind a lot of their plans, much like beau, with more of a personal focus. his sense of loyalty to his homeland and the nein serves as a binding keeping the group together.

veth tends to let caleb take the lead, but offers advice and is often the first person out in their explorations, despite her fear.

jester also works within the realm of social engineering, but keeps her faith in the traveler first and foremost, and thus sows chaos in a bewilderingly kind way.

molly played in social engineering, with minor moral guidance.

caduceus holds wisdom in faith and takes up the mantle of moral guidance even as he changes throughout the journey.

yasha, being away for much of the time, did not tend to lead as much, but she made herself a stalwart defender, a source of inspiration and strength for the group. she served as a bouncing point for the group to achieve clarity.

they have a great mix of melee, range, dps magic, and support that's uniquely targeted to making them effective and coherent. part of that comes from molly dying; they really tightened up because they didn't want to see anyone else die. caduceus coming in is a critical aspect, because grave clerics are incredible in that respect.

it's much easier to track the influence of the chained oblivion throughout the campaign when watching it this quickly.

it's also interesting to track the theme of corruption and the different ways it can be dealt with.

i know matt talks about the decision to go to xhorhas throwing some of his plans out the window, but i think molly's death and the pirate arc did more in that respect. i do think it served the story better that they spent time on both sides of the conflicts and as outsiders looking in, because it exposes new facets in all respects.

finished my mighty nein speedrun. four weeks. all 141 episodes. no talks because i don't have the time to go looking for it. i feel like i've been on a bender.

but i've noted a few things about them that powered my hyperfixation:

they're so conversant with each other. every person talks to every other person either in one on one or in group conversation and they do so with regularity. for a group that was very hesitant to share their backstories at first they really read as close friends in a trusted circle.

how strategic they are. sometimes they're chucklefucks, as all adventuring parties tend to be, but they try to hit the ground running. sometimes it takes some talking through, but they make complex and unexpected decisions that change the course of encounters in seconds.

their even distribution of skills. they have good INT (caleb, beau, veth), good WIS (caduceus, jester, caleb, beau), good CHA (fjord, caduceus, caleb), good STR (yasha, jester), good DEX (beau, veth, molly), and good CON (fjord, yasha, jester, beau). they cover all of their bases and specialize where they need to in order to get the most out of their checks (caduceus with perception, caleb, beau and veth on investigation, fjord on persuasion/deception, yasha and jester for athletics, so on and so forth).

the strong motivations that drive them. each one of them has individual goals that they're pursuing that drive them both to conflict and to forward trajectory. fjord, finding out about his patron and choosing between the paths offered to him. jester, sowing chaos in the name of her god as she explores the world. caleb, fleeing from his past until he turns to seek justice in the name of his homeland. veth, seeking her family and her body back. yasha, seeking redemption and an end to the violence that defined her life. molly/kingsley, living life to the fullest and making something of the fragments he was left with. caduceus, serving his god to save his home and family. beau, finding direction in seeking the truth. even when they're pursuing a goal that only pertains to one of them particularly, they all are still present and progressing through their own goals, i.e. travelercon

there's more but i'm tired and can't process more right now.

[dior-luxury]

hello!! could I request how the dormleaders would react to you being a descent of the different disney princesses? (or in some cases alice and hercules), hopefully my point came across because this was kinda hard to explain! ✧

How'd They React To You Being A Descent Of The Disney Princesses

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . drama/fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dorm leaders

- [𝐩:𝐬] dramatic writing

Note: I literally fell in LOVE with this prompt! ♡ This was so fun to do and thank you so much for requesting!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle had always prided himself on knowing everything about the Queen of Hearts' rules, the history of Wonderland, and the traditions upheld in Heartslabyul. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared him for the revelation that you were a direct descendant of Alice herself.

The first time you told him, he nearly dropped his teacup.

“What?” he blurted out, his usually pristine composure cracking as he stared at you in disbelief.

“I’m a descendant of Alice,” you repeated, shifting slightly under his intense gaze. “You know, the Alice. The one from all those Wonderland stories.”

The teacup in Riddle’s hand trembled slightly before he carefully set it down on its saucer. His mind raced, piecing together every bit of history he had learned from childhood about the infamous girl who had once thrown Wonderland into chaos—the girl who had openly defied the Queen of Hearts’ rules and questioned the very nature of Wonderland itself.

And now, you, his beloved girlfriend, carried her blood in your veins.

For a long moment, Riddle was silent, processing. His stormy grey eyes flickered with an unreadable expression before he finally spoke.

“… Are you sure?”

You chuckled. “Positive. My family has always told me stories about her. At first, I thought they were just tales, but then… well, certain things started making sense.”

Riddle exhaled slowly, his hands folding neatly in his lap to disguise his lingering shock. He had imagined many things about you—admired your kindness, your wit, your ability to handle his strictness—but this? This was unprecedented.

It wasn’t until later that day, after the initial shock had settled, that you noticed something was off about him.

At lunch, he stared at you a little longer than usual, his spoon hovering over his soup as if he had completely forgotten about it. During your usual evening walks through Heartslabyul’s rose gardens, he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, as if trying to see something—some trace of Alice herself in your features.

Finally, you stopped walking and faced him. “Okay, Riddle, you’ve been looking at me like I’m going to grow rabbit ears and hop away any second. What’s going on?”

His ears tinged pink. “I—ahem—I was merely… contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?” you pressed, crossing your arms.

Riddle hesitated before admitting, “I wonder if you… share any of her tendencies.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tendencies?”

He looked at you seriously. “Alice was known to be reckless. She broke rules, disregarded orders, and caused immense chaos in Wonderland.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the very thought of such disorder was giving him a headache. “And if you truly are her descendant, I cannot help but wonder if… if you, too, might have inherited such traits.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Riddle. Are you afraid I’m going to start shouting, ‘Off with his head!’ and overthrow Heartslabyul?”

His face flushed instantly. “N-No! That is not what I meant! Don’t be absurd!”

You laughed, stepping closer to take his hands in yours. “Riddle, I may be Alice’s descendant, but I’m still me. Sure, maybe I have a rebellious streak, but I would never cause trouble for you. And besides,” you added, tilting your head, “Alice was just curious. She asked questions and wanted to understand things. Kind of like you, actually.”

Riddle stiffened at that, caught off guard. “… Like me?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You always ask why things are the way they are. You want to understand rules, not just enforce them. Isn’t that kind of like Alice?”

He stared at you, visibly deep in thought. The idea had never occurred to him before. He had always viewed Alice as a symbol of chaos, while he stood for order. And yet, when you said it like that…

Perhaps curiosity wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

After a long pause, Riddle let out a soft sigh, squeezing your hands gently. “I suppose… I may have misjudged her. And you.” His expression softened. “If you are truly Alice’s descendant, then… I am glad. Because despite everything I have been told about her, I cannot deny that she left a great impact on Wonderland. And you… you have certainly left an impact on me.”

Your heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. Smiling, you rose on your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Does that mean I have your approval, Housewarden Rosehearts?”

He huffed, though his face was undeniably red. “Just don’t go falling down any rabbit holes, please.”

You laughed, lacing your fingers with his. “No promises.”

And even though Riddle still insisted on keeping you far away from any wild, Wonderland-esque adventures, he couldn’t deny the excitement that bloomed in his chest whenever he looked at you—the girl who carried the legacy of the one who changed everything.

Leona Kingscholar

You weren’t sure how to bring it up at first.

Leona wasn’t the easiest person to talk to when it came to things like lineage, legacy, or royalty—especially not his royal family. You knew how he felt about being second in line, about being constantly compared to his older brother, and most of all, about the name Mufasa.

But it wasn’t something you could keep from him forever.

One evening, the two of you were lounging in the botanical gardens, where he often went to escape the suffocating responsibilities of being the Housewarden of Savanaclaw. The golden hues of the setting sun cast long shadows over the grass, and Leona, as usual, had his head resting on your lap, eyes closed, tail flicking lazily.

That was when you decided to say it.

“… I think I’m related to Mufasa.”

His tail stopped moving.

Leona’s emerald eyes opened just a fraction, peering up at you through his long lashes. “You think?” His voice was low, but you could hear the tension beneath the lazy drawl.

You swallowed. “Well… my family’s history traces back to an old royal bloodline. And after putting the pieces together, it looks like I might be descended from him.”

Silence.

For the first time since you met him, Leona was utterly, completely still. His usual smirk, his dry sarcasm, the ever-present air of indifference—it was gone.

“… So, what?” he finally said, sitting up from your lap. “You telling me you’re some kinda lost royal?” His voice was even, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.

You hesitated. “I’m not saying that.”

“But you are saying that his blood runs in your veins.”

You winced at the way he said his—like the very name burned his tongue.

“I knew you’d react like this,” you muttered, looking away.

Leona let out a sharp breath, raking a hand through his thick mane. He was quiet for a long time, long enough that doubt crept into your mind. Was this a mistake? Did he see you differently now?

Then, he laughed.

It wasn’t a warm laugh, nor was it amused—it was bitter, mirthless.

“Figures,” he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Even my own girlfriend’s got Mufasa’s blood. Guess I can’t escape that shadow no matter where I go, huh?”

Your heart clenched.

“Leona…” You reached for his hand, but he pulled away, standing up and shoving both hands into his pockets.

“I get it now,” he continued, looking up at the darkening sky. “The way you walk, the way you talk… the way people naturally listen to you. Should’ve known it wasn’t just you being you—it’s in your blood, ain’t it? The great Mufasa’s legacy, living on through you.”

That stung.

You stood up, crossing your arms. “That’s not fair, Leona. I don’t want to be compared to him any more than you do.”

His ears flicked, but he didn’t turn to face you.

“I know you hate hearing his name,” you continued, stepping closer. “But I’m not him. I’m still me. I don’t care about some ancient legacy. And I sure as hell don’t think I’m better than you just because of who my ancestors were.”

Leona’s shoulders tensed.

You reached out again, this time catching his wrist before he could pull away. “You’re the one I chose, Leona. Not my bloodline. Not my history. You.”

For a moment, you thought he might push you away.

Instead, he exhaled heavily and finally turned to look at you. His expression was unreadable—his sharp green eyes held something deeper, something raw, something vulnerable.

“… You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You smiled. “Yeah. But you love me anyway.”

Leona clicked his tongue, but the smallest, faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Tch. Whatever,” he muttered. Then, with a gentleness most people never got to see, he pulled you into his arms. His chin rested on top of your head, and his tail lazily curled around your leg.

“… I don’t care about legacies,” he murmured. “And I don’t care that you’re descended from him. But if anyone ever tries to use that against me, I’ll make sure they regret it.”

You chuckled against his chest. “That’s my Leona.”

He scoffed but held you just a little tighter.

And though he would never admit it, a part of him—one buried beneath years of resentment and bitterness—felt oddly at peace knowing that if Mufasa’s bloodline had to live on… at least it was in someone like you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul Ashengrotto had always prided himself on knowing everything about the sea. Every tale, every legend, every tragedy—it was his business, after all. Knowledge was power, and power was something he had worked tirelessly to obtain.

But this?

This was something he had never seen coming.

“You’re what?” Azul’s normally composed voice cracked slightly, and he immediately cleared his throat, trying to maintain his usual calm.

You shifted awkwardly in your seat across from him in the VIP room of the Mostro Lounge. “I’m related to Ariel,” you repeated.

Azul let out a breath, his gloved fingers tightening slightly around the delicate handle of his teacup. “As in… the Ariel? The mermaid princess who abandoned the sea for a human prince?”

“The very same.”

A tense silence settled between you. Azul didn’t say anything at first, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind. His eyes, deep as the ocean itself, studied you carefully—searching for any trace of a joke, a trick, something that would make this revelation less… monumental.

It never came.

Azul placed his teacup down with deliberate care before folding his hands in front of him, his expression unreadable. “… And how, exactly, did you come upon this information?”

“I looked into my family history,” you explained. “I’d always heard stories passed down through generations, but I never thought much of it until I actually started tracing my lineage. And, well… everything led back to her.”

Azul exhaled slowly, reclining slightly in his chair. “I see.”

You frowned. “Azul, say something. Anything.”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. More like something torn between amusement and disbelief. “Forgive me, dear, but I’m still processing the fact that my girlfriend is descended from one of the most reckless mermaids in all of history.”

Your brow furrowed. “You don’t like her, do you?”

Azul let out a soft, mirthless chuckle. “It’s not about liking or disliking her, my dear. It’s about what she represents.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his laced fingers. “Ariel was many things—bold, stubborn, impulsive—but above all, she was a dreamer.” His voice dipped, almost as if the word itself was an insult.

You tilted your head. “And you don’t like dreamers?”

Azul’s gaze flickered to the contract-lined walls of his lounge, then back to you. “Dreaming is fine,” he admitted, “but blind idealism? That is dangerous. She gave up her home, her family, her voice for a world she barely understood. That is not a risk—” He stopped himself, inhaling sharply before finishing in a calmer tone, “—that is a gamble. And the house always wins.”

You could hear the bitterness in his voice. Azul, more than anyone, knew what it was like to make a deal from a place of desperation. To hope for something more, only to learn the hard way that the world did not hand out kindness freely.

You reached for his hand, your fingers lightly brushing against his glove. “She wasn’t perfect, Azul,” you said gently. “But she didn’t just give up everything for a gamble. She fought for what she wanted. She saw a world that she loved and refused to let anything keep her from it. Even when she lost her voice, she still found a way to be heard.”

Azul’s fingers twitched beneath yours.

You smiled softly. “And doesn’t that remind you of someone?”

His lips parted slightly, as if to argue—but then he stopped.

Because he knew exactly what you were implying.

Ariel’s story wasn’t so different from his own, was it?

A young, ambitious soul, born into the ocean but yearning for something more. Someone who wanted power in their own right. Someone who wouldn’t accept being overlooked or underestimated.

Azul clenched his jaw, tearing his gaze away. “That’s different,” he murmured.

“Is it?” you challenged. “You built yourself up from nothing. You changed your fate with your own hands. You defied expectations. You and Ariel aren’t as different as you think, Azul.”

He was silent.

You squeezed his hand gently. “And for what it’s worth… she got her happy ending.”

A dry chuckle escaped him, though there was no malice in it. “Yes, well, fairy tales always end conveniently, don’t they?”

You gave him a teasing smile. “So does that mean you’re my prince now?”

Azul’s face reddened instantly, and he quickly pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. “Ahem. I— I hardly think such a title is fitting for me.”

You giggled. “Would you prefer ‘Sea King’?”

Azul groaned, rubbing his temples. “You are impossible.”

But there was a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.

After a long moment, Azul finally exhaled, his posture relaxing. “It doesn’t change anything,” he admitted. “Whether you’re Ariel’s descendant or not, you’re still you.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “And you’re still you—my Azul.”

His ears turned a bit pink, and he quickly turned his gaze to the side. “… Well, if nothing else, I suppose this just proves that my ability to attract unique individuals is unparalleled.”

You laughed, reaching across the table to steal a sip of his tea. “You love it.”

Azul smirked. “I tolerate it.”

And as the two of you sat there, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence, Azul couldn’t help but think that—perhaps—Ariel’s bloodline wasn’t so foolish after all.

Kalim Al-asim

Kalim was not the type to keep secrets.

In fact, he was almost comically terrible at it. He was the kind of person who would accidentally blurt out a surprise party plan within five minutes of deciding it, who would beam with excitement over something he wasn’t supposed to know, and who would definitely be unable to keep a straight face if he ever tried to deceive someone.

But you? You had been keeping something from him. Not out of malice, of course. You just… weren’t sure how to bring it up.

It wasn’t every day that you told your boyfriend that you were a direct descendant of the legendary Aladdin.

You had been meaning to tell him, but the right moment never came. Kalim was always surrounded by people—whether it was his entourage, his friends, or the ever-watchful Jamil—and dropping that kind of information in the middle of an afternoon feast seemed a bit too dramatic.

So, you waited.

Until one evening, when the two of you were sitting on the grand balcony of Scarabia’s dorm, overlooking the golden dunes of the desert under a sky full of stars. The warm wind carried the scent of exotic spices from the marketplace below, and for once, it was just the two of you—no attendants, no interruptions.

“Kalim,” you started, voice soft.

He turned to you with his usual bright, open smile. “Yeah?”

You hesitated. “… There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

His eyes widened a little, curiosity instantly piqued. “Oh? What is it?”

You took a deep breath. “I recently found out that my family is related to Aladdin.”

Kalim blinked.

Once. Twice.

Then, his entire face lit up like a festival firework.

“NO WAY! THAT’S AMAZING!!”

Before you could react, he had grabbed both of your hands in his own, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Wait, wait, wait—you mean Aladdin—as in the Aladdin?! The diamond in the rough? The guy who found the magic lamp and won the heart of a princess?! The legend himself?!”

You laughed nervously. “Y-yeah, that Aladdin.”

Kalim’s excitement was instantaneous and overwhelming. “THAT’S SO COOL!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat. “Do you know what this means?! You’re like—desert royalty! A hero’s descendant! A real-life legend!!”

You smiled at his enthusiasm, but you weren’t sure how he’d feel about the whole story. “You really think it’s that amazing?”

“Of course! Aladdin was one of the greatest adventurers ever! He was clever, kind, and he never let anyone tell him he wasn’t good enough! And he never needed riches to prove his worth—he was already great all on his own!”

You bit your lip, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah, but… you do know he started off as a street rat, right?”

Kalim tilted his head, confused. “So?”

“So… my family didn’t come from wealth,” you admitted. “We were commoners, just like Aladdin. We had to fight for everything we had. I didn’t grow up in a palace or anything like that.”

Kalim’s expression softened, and before you could blink, he was pulling you into the warmest, tightest hug you’d ever felt.

“That doesn’t change anything!” he said earnestly, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “Who cares where you came from? You’re you! And you’re amazing just as you are!”

You felt yourself relax in his embrace. “You really don’t mind?”

“Mind? Are you kidding?!” Kalim pulled back, his ruby-red eyes shimmering with excitement. “This just makes me love you even more! We have to celebrate! OH—WAIT—Jamil! JAMIL!!”

He immediately turned toward the dormitory, calling for his ever-suffering vice housewarden.

You quickly grabbed his arm before he could get Jamil involved. “Kalim, wait! I don’t think we need to—”

“But this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing!! We have to have a feast! Fireworks! Maybe even a whole festival!!”

You sighed, already imagining the extra work Jamil was about to be saddled with. “Kalim… maybe let’s keep it between us for now?”

Kalim pouted dramatically but nodded. “Okay, okay! But at least let me do something special for you!”

You smiled. “You already did.”

He blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

You laced your fingers with his, squeezing gently. “You didn’t care where I came from. You were just happy that I was me. That means more to me than any festival ever could.”

For a moment, Kalim just stared at you, his mouth slightly open as if processing your words. Then, his face broke into the softest, most genuine smile you had ever seen.

“You’re the best,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close.

And as the warm desert breeze swept around you, carrying the scent of spices and jasmine, you realized that you didn’t need riches or a magic lamp to feel like the luckiest person in the world—because you already had Kalim.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil Schoenheit was a man who prided himself on control.

Control over his appearance. Control over his reputation. Control over every detail of his life, from his carefully curated skincare routine to the way he carried himself in front of the world.

So, when you first told him—softly, cautiously—that you were a descendant of Snow White, you expected a reaction.

A scoff. A dismissive wave of his hand. Maybe even an unimpressed "Of course you are."

But what you weren’t expecting was the eerie, suffocating silence that followed your confession.

Vil simply stared at you, his amethyst eyes unreadable, as if you had just uttered some kind of dark curse.

“… Say that again,” he finally said, his voice carefully neutral.

You swallowed. “I— I found out recently. My family lineage traces back to Snow White. You know, the Snow White.”

Another pause.

Then, slowly—almost imperceptibly—Vil’s lips curled into a small, icy smile.

“How poetic,” he murmured.

His tone was unreadable, and you weren’t sure whether that was a good thing or a very bad thing.

You fidgeted in place, your hands clenching slightly at the fabric of your clothes. “Vil…? Are you okay?”

He let out a small, humorless chuckle. “Oh, darling, you must forgive me. I simply find it ironic.”

You blinked. “Ironic?”

Vil turned, gracefully walking to his vanity mirror, his reflection shimmering beneath the soft glow of golden candlelight. He lifted a hand to touch his cheek, his long, manicured fingers ghosting over his porcelain skin.

“You do realize, don’t you?” he said quietly, his gaze locked on his reflection. “The very story that shaped my life—the tale that cast my role before I ever had a say in it—is the same one that runs through your veins.”

Your heart clenched.

Vil had always carried the weight of that old fairytale on his shoulders. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how dazzling his performances were, there would always be those who whispered in the shadows:

"Ah, the Evil Queen reborn."

He had spent his whole life fighting against it—proving that he was more than a villain in someone else's story.

And now, you—the person he had let into his heart, the one he adored—were descended from the very girl that fairytale had deemed the fairest of them all.

“… Vil.” You took a hesitant step forward. “I didn’t want to hide it from you. I just… I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”

He exhaled slowly, his fingers trailing down the edge of the vanity before he finally turned to face you again.

And then, something shifted.

Gone was the cool mask of detachment. In its place was a look that was unmistakably Vil—proud, regal, and fiercely unapologetic.

“Well,” he said smoothly, walking toward you with an effortless grace, “I suppose this only proves what I’ve always known.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

Vil’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “That even Snow White’s own bloodline cannot resist me.”

You let out a startled laugh as he lifted your chin with a gloved hand, his eyes gleaming with something both possessive and deeply amused.

“You are mine,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. “Snow White or not. And if anyone dares suggest otherwise—” His voice dropped to something silkier, more dangerous. “—they will learn why I refuse to be cast as a mere villain in this tale.”

Your breath hitched, heat crawling up your neck. “Vil…”

His smirk softened just a fraction, and he tilted his head, studying you with something warmer—something genuine beneath the layers of carefully controlled elegance.

“… Does it bother you?” he finally asked. “That our story was written long before we ever met?”

You shook your head. “No.”

And you meant it.

Because you knew Vil was more than that old fairytale. More than a poisoned apple or a wicked queen. He was himself—dazzling, sharp, ambitious, and breathtakingly human.

“You’re not a villain,” you murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of his golden hair behind his ear. “And I’m not some helpless princess waiting to be saved. We make our own story, Vil.”

For a moment, he just looked at you.

Then, he let out a soft chuckle, his eyes glinting with something dangerous and beautiful all at once.

“Well then, my darling,” he purred, “let’s make sure it’s a story they’ll never forget.”

And when Vil kissed you that night, it wasn’t the kiss of a villain, nor the gentle affection of a fairytale prince.

It was his kiss—fierce, intoxicating, and entirely his own.

Idia Shroud

To say that Idia did not take the news well would be a massive understatement.

He froze. Absolutely, completely froze.

One second, he had been lounging in his dimly lit room, gaming console in hand, complaining about an impossible boss fight. The next? He had gone full blue-screen-of-death mode, his flaming hair flickering wildly in sheer panic.

“W-w-wait, WAIT—hold up!!” He almost yeeted his controller across the room, scrambling to sit up. “Y-you’re saying—y-you’re telling me—that you’re related to HERCULES?! Like, the Hercules?! Buff golden boy, slayer of titans, Mr. I-Can-Go-the-Distance HERCULES?!”

You blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

Idia made a strangled sound, looking one bad shock away from an actual shutdown.

“Error. Error. System malfunction.” His voice wavered as he pressed his hands to his temples. “This… This has gotta be a joke. A prank. You’re messing with me, right?”

“Nope,” you said casually. “It’s true. Turns out my family has a direct lineage to him. I only found out recently when—”

But Idia wasn’t even listening at that point. He had already spiraled deep into an existential crisis, muttering a very concerning monologue to himself.

“Ohhh, great, great, this is just like one of those cursed romance routes where the MC turns out to be some kind of secret OP chosen one and the weak nerdy love interest is completely outclassed—OH WAIT, THAT’S ME!!”

“Idia—”

“Like, you’re literally the descendant of the most brokenly overpowered himbo in Greek mythology! D-does that mean you also have god-tier strength?! Are you secretly bench-pressing me every time we hug?! WAIT—h-have I ever said anything bad about Hercules before?! OH NO, DID I ACCIDENTALLY TRASH TALK YOUR ANCESTOR IN A GAME?!”

You sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Idia.”

He flinched. “D-don’t hit me, please! I don’t wanna get punted into orbit!!”

You deadpanned. “I’m not that strong.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what you say—but next thing I know, you’re single-handedly throwing a Cerberus across a battlefield like some kind of action movie protag!”

At this point, Idia had curled up in a dramatic ball, shaking like a frazzled NPC who had just aggro’d the final boss by accident. His hair flared up in stressed-out little sparks, and his eyes darted between you and the exit like he was debating whether or not to make a full-speed getaway.

“… Idia,” you sighed, kneeling in front of him. “I don’t care that you’re not some super strong warrior. You know that, right?”

He hesitated, his golden eyes flickering with doubt. “Y-you don’t?”

You gave him a fond smile. “Of course not. I mean, sure, my ancestor was pretty strong, but that doesn’t mean I care about all that legendary hero stuff. You’re the one I like.”

His expression wavered, caught somewhere between disbelief and hope.

“… Me?” he mumbled.

“Yes, you,” you said, tapping a finger against his forehead. “The guy who can hack into anything, the guy who builds the most insane tech, the guy who somehow beat that boss fight with 1 HP left and refused to let me quit until he avenged me.”

Idia’s hair flared a little pink at the memory. “T-that was just—! I mean—!! UGH.” He groaned, covering his face with his hands.

You chuckled, leaning in. “And, might I add, the guy who looks really cute when he panics.”

A strangled squeak left his mouth, and suddenly, his entire head of fire was a brilliant neon pink.

“O-overheat detected! System compromised!! Aaaaahhhh!!”

You burst into laughter as he absolutely imploded, his entire body curling inward like a dying star. It was honestly kind of adorable how flustered he got—especially when you reminded him that, hero’s bloodline or not, he was still your favorite person in the world.

Maybe you weren’t the legendary hero that people wrote myths about. Maybe you weren’t destined for some grand, godly fate.

But one thing was certain:

Even if you were a descendant of the mighty Hercules—Idia Shroud was the only person you’d ever want as your player two.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was not one to be surprised often.

For centuries, he had existed as a being of immense power, feared by many and revered by few. The world rarely held any mysteries for him—he had seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, walked among mortals and fae alike, and held conversations with spirits older than time itself.

And yet…

When you, his beloved, softly confessed to him beneath the glow of a full moon that you were a descendant of Princess Aurora, the fabled Sleeping Beauty—

He stilled.

For a moment, the usual ever-present hum of his magic, the quiet whisper of the wind, and even the distant chirping of the nocturnal creatures all ceased.

You felt a strange shiver crawl up your spine as Malleus gazed at you, his emerald eyes darkening, an unreadable emotion swimming beneath their depths. His lips parted slightly, as if about to speak, yet no words left them.

“… Malleus?” you whispered, almost hesitantly.

His claws twitched at his sides. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer, his tall, regal figure casting an elongated shadow over the grass as he loomed before you.

Then—his voice, deep and almost dangerously soft:

“My beloved… are you certain of this?”

You swallowed, nodding. “Yes. My family recently traced our lineage, and it turns out Aurora was our ancestor.” You gave a small, nervous chuckle. “Crazy, right?”

Malleus did not return your laughter. Instead, his expression remained unreadable, his piercing gaze locked onto you in a way that made your heart stutter.

Then, he exhaled, long and slow, his eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment. When he opened them again, his magic thrummed faintly around him, causing the air to shimmer slightly with an unseen force.

“… Fate is a cruel, ironic thing,” he murmured.

Your brows furrowed. “Malleus?”

He reached for you, his clawed fingers gentle as they cradled your face, his thumbs tracing slow, almost reverent circles along your skin.

“You do not understand what this means to me,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of centuries in its depth. “Aurora, the Sleeping Beauty… she was the princess cursed by Maleficent—the very fae whose blood runs through my veins.”

Your breath hitched.

It was true. Maleficent, the dark fairy who had cursed Aurora to a century of slumber, was his ancestor.

The ancient magic of their bloodlines had once clashed, one bringing forth the curse, the other carrying the blessing of awakening.

And now—they had converged once more… within you and him.

“… Does that bother you?” you asked hesitantly, searching his expression. “That we’re… connected this way?”

Malleus let out a deep, quiet chuckle. “Bother me? No… Not in the way you fear.”

His thumb brushed along your lower lip, his eyes gleaming with something old and possessive.

“If anything… it only solidifies the idea that you and I were always meant to meet.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken.

He leaned in, so close that his cool breath ghosted across your skin, his long lashes casting delicate shadows over his high cheekbones.

“Do you realize,” he murmured, “what your existence means to someone like me?”

You blinked up at him, utterly entranced by the way his voice wrapped around you like an enchantment. “What… do you mean?”

Malleus let out a low hum, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“All my life, I have been cast as the villain,” he said simply. “A creature of darkness… a being to be feared. Even now, many tremble at the mere mention of my name.” His hand traced down your arm, his claws lightly grazing your skin in an almost reverent touch.

“But you… You, my beloved, are a descendant of the very princess I was once meant to stand against. And yet—here you are, standing beside me. Loving me. Choosing me.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“… Tell me, does that not feel like destiny?”

Your breath caught.

There was something dangerous and intoxicating in the way he spoke—as if you had been ensnared in the most beautiful, inescapable spell.

And yet, you felt no fear.

Because deep down, you knew Malleus was not a villain.

He was yours.

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your hands, tracing the sharp angles of his features with your fingertips. His skin was cool, like moonlight, yet it burned under your touch.

“If this is fate,” you whispered, “then I have no regrets.”

Malleus let out a deep, satisfied hum. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Then allow me to make you a promise,” he murmured, his lips ghosting against your forehead.

“No curse, no fate, and no force in this world will ever separate you from me.”

His voice was low, dark, and absolute—not a mere vow, but a declaration.

Because Malleus Draconia had waited centuries to find a love like this.

And now that he had you, his beloved descendant of Sleeping Beauty—

Nothing in this world or the next would take you away from him.

[luckyartdoll]

Imagine female Yuu having to cross dress to avoid unnecessary trouble at NRC and Idia finds out through Ortho. Because I can see Ortho finding out if Yuu ever got a minor injury and he was around to play nurse, knowing him he’d do a quick full body scan and find a very high amount of estrogen in her system.

And he blabs to Idia because he’s a snitch who doesn’t keep anything from his brother; if you tell a secret to him, you’re basically telling it to them.

Once Idia finds out, his mind INSTANTLY goes to those otome games and fanfics and gacha life videos about a girl in all boys school. He always thought those were just fun fantasies, but upon seeing that exact scenario happening in real life he becomes curious.

Prior to this, Idia probably wouldn’t think much about Yuu. To him, she was just the odd magicless guy his brother would occasionally run into; the most interesting thing about her was her cat, in his eyes. But now that he knows about her secret, he becomes heavily invested in her school life, he wants to see how this is going to turn out.

He doesn’t exactly stalk Yuu, it’s not like he’s putting cameras in Ramshackle or listening devices in her bag, it’s more like he just pays extra close attention to her when he has the chance, such as during joint classes and lunch. And since Ortho and her are on amicable terms, he encourages Ortho to spill any gossip he learns when around her.

To Idia’s surprise and delight, things end up matching up almost perfectly with what he’s come to expect from these kinds of plots. The ones close to Yuu, who seem to be privy to her secret from what he’s gathered, are all either falling in love or have already been in love. They’re extra protective of her, they’re affectionate and soft with her, and they get jealous when she gives too much of her attention to any one of them.

Idia knows about the overblot incidents, so of course he’d see the pattern in who starts getting closer. Every time someone overblots, Yuu will be there to help and both the overblotter and some other select people in their dorm will begin to fall. It’s a classic pattern.

At this point, Idia would simply see himself as an observer peeking in on this story and, therefore, he can’t be affected by Yuu. He’s not a love target in her story, he’s a side character.

It doesn’t matter that he’s occasionally run in with Yuu and each time he has she’s been a true friend to an introvert like him by making his anxious ass feel comfortable. It doesn’t matter because he’s aware of what’s happening and thus he can’t be affected.

But then he also overblots, and just like before she was there to help pick up the pieces. After that they ended up talking and Idia gets to know more about Yuu, more than he could learn by just observing.

Before long, he’s actually looking forward to seeing her again, to nerding out about his favorite anime’s with her in person because she’s always such a good listener. He’s looking at his manga and game collections and thinking about what she would like.

Idia doesn’t even realize his hearts been skipping beats when she’s around until one day when he’s in class and she walks in. Like a dog hearing their owner walk through the front door, his gaze shoots up and instantly that class gets fifty times more bearable with her around.

…And then he looks around and every other “main character” has had the same reaction.

Which means that he’s also a captured love target, just like them…

Oh how the turn tables for a dating sim loving nerd like himself

[evecolourshock]

:)

Given @betasuppe and I had a similar idea but it was mostly Beck using the weird coding quirks instead (here)... have continuation of that, and a story!

Beck squints at Tron for a moment. Launching oneself with a weird reaction to jumping into a corner? Falling through the floor?

"...like the time I accidentally teleported to Bostrum, before there was a Virus there?" Beck asks cautiously. "One moment I was on a staircase in Purgos' back streets, the next middle of Bostrum's industrial area. Everyone was really nice about getting me home."

Tron does that thing where he'd be smirking if he could... and giggling if he wouldn't ruin his reputation. "Yes."

"Can you teach me how to do that on purpose?"

Tron, Beck thinks, would be beaming if his face could move that way.

It takes a while for those lessons to start, but Beck's... kind of looking forwards to them? So much so there's a spring in his step noticeable enough for his friends to comment on it, for Able to try interrogating him for why he's in a good mood, for Pavel to try and fail to drag him down again.

Tron raises an eyebrow at him the next time he's in the lair. "Eager, are we?"

"Curious, excited, and a little apprehensive." Beck rattles off, choosing to be honest. "But the more we can do, the better we can outsmart them, right? And... this looks more fun than just hitting them until they fall over."

Tron... softens. That's the only way Beck can describe it. "Correct." He murmurs. Then-

One step. Tron's on the observation platform, then he's in front of Beck. Twenty paces' worth, traveled in an instant.

Beck bounces up on his toes, part surprise and part delight. So cool. "I guess that'll be lesson... three?" He teases, knowing Tron's pace of teaching by now.

"Four." Tron corrects, clapping Beck on the shoulder. "Lesson one is finding the right place to do that. And... that's best done practically."

Beck grins at his mentor. "Good job I've got time off work for a while, then." Spending time with his friend, out exploring? Sounds like a good time to him.

Beck pokes his head, and then his whole body through a wall. He's supposed to be laying low, sleeping and working and generally pretending to be a normal Mechanic...

Tron needs him more, right now.

"Just me." Beck murmurs, curling up with Tron. One hand comes to cup his shoulder, too low on energy to squeeze hello. "You're safe. I hid the way in."

His mentor raises his weary, scarred head, wounded and weakened by torment he only just managed to escape. Pulled to safety through a short-lived glitch point, clear across the Grid - so similar to the one Beck found all those cycles ago, used on purpose before it got deactivated via copious amounts of explosives.

Beck doesn't want to know what his body count is now. He suspects it's higher than either of them ever wanted.

Tron shudders, then relaxes. This little... nowhere-space, a room with no doors, is the safest place Beck could bring him after the rescue, and he knows it. Doesn't mean he's not terrified of someone finding him anyway.

Beck rumbles a low hum in his chest, a content Mechanic reassuring his friend. He passes Tron an energy pouch - helps him hold it, when Tron's fingers spasm and shake too much. "We'll be okay." Beck promises, quiet and sure. "And- hey, when you're healed, we can go find that spot where you can drop into the caverns again. Explore the crystal caves."

Tron's face does that thing where he'd be smiling if he could.

Beck smiles back, soft and gentle.

Tron using speedrunner strats to get around during the occupation

Beck: I called you two minutes ago, how’d you get here so fast?

Tron: You know that triangular warehouse on the south corner at the end of Roy Street? If you jump backwards into the third corner at just the right angle, you can break the physics engine and launch yourself out of the skylight at a ridiculous speed. I wingsuited the rest of the way.

Beck: I can’t tell if you’re joking.

Tron: Kevin sucks at making corners.

Beck: Is this like that time you told me to ‘just clip through the floor’ when guards were coming?

Tron: That was my mistake. Clu’s been fixing them, the bastard.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Sebastian (Pressure) fluff. I need it.

"I gotta ask, do you have personal beef with those Squiddles? Because you sure like harassing them with that light of yours."

"I don't do it on purpose! If that damn Angler stopped killing the lights in every big room, maybe I could see my own hand in front of me!" You scowled up at the sea creature while standing in his humble shop.

Why was Sebastian always taunting you whenever you died to something unexpected..only to act all friendly-like in this place?

Well, you had to be grateful he was the only thing down here that wasn't trying to kill you, and that no other monsters could barge into the shop when you least expect it.

So for once, you could breathe easy..

Until he decided to remind you of those creepy squids who were somehow always in your way.

He must get a kick out of watching you perish.

"Oh of course, blame everybody except yourself." He tsked. "You have more than enough clues on how to survive each creature you encounter...but maybe they should've spoonfed all the details to you instead-"

"I don't need this from you." You huffed. "My damn hands are cramped from holding a locker shut against Pandemonium, Eyefestation gave me a killer headache, nobody bothered to tell me about the people in the walls-"

"And don't forget about those Squiddles, hehe."

Silence.

"Okay, okay. I've had my fun. I'll shut up about them now."

"Thanks. You have any medkits available?"

"Right on my tail, buddy. Hope you got enough data."

"More than enough." As your eyes surveyed the items strapped to his tail, they eventually wandered over to the desk with batteries laying out.

But it wasn't them that caught your interest, but rather the file on the table. 'How curious..is this for a monster I'm gonna meet soon?' You went over to investigate.

"Is the document for sale?"

"Wow, you might be the first to ask me about that and be able to afford it! The others before you barely had enough for a flashlight." Sebastian chuckled, clasping his hands together. "If you're interested, give me a thousand data, and I'll have it ready for you to read when you return to the surface. And don't worry, it's all there. So I won't have to kill you to to reveal any information."

You blinked, realizing what he meant by that as you read the folder's cover and why he was asking so much for it.

Sebastian's Document

Of course, you knew he'd be recognized as a specimen, too, but to be put with Pandemonium, the Anglers, and all those other monsters that tried to eat you alive?

For some reason, it made you frown a little.

"This is your file, and they let you keep it?" You turned back to him.

"...I stole it. And I'm not gonna lie...I regret reading it." He muttered, suddenly looking a bit tense..and sad, even, although he was quick to mask any signs of vulnerability when he realized you were staring. "Anyways, it's a steep price. I'm sure you'd rather spend your assets on-"

"What if I buy it and take it off your hands right now?"

For a moment, his ear fins perked up with surprise, glowing eyes widening. But he was quick to give you a suspicious gaze. "Really? You're that nosey about my lifestory? Pretty weird if you ask m-"

"It's more of a courtesy to you."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean..you look like you're carrying a heavy weight just from that folder being there. You haven't stopped looking at it since I mentioned it." You pointed out, seeing his ears twitch again. "You've always told me "out of sight, out of mind" with the Anglers. Couldn't I say the same about you and that document?"

".....using my own words against me, eh? What're you, a damn psychologist?" He teased, although his words didn't hold as much spite or sarcasm as usual. "But no, you're right. I'd rather forget about it forever. So if you want it that badly, be my guest." His third arm made a grand gesture towards the table. "Just don't get caught parading it around. And don't come crying to me when you realize you needed something else instead of-"

"I won't, trust me." You exchanged the data, taking the folder. "I'll be on my way now. I got a crystal to find."

With that, you began ducking down to renter the vent and continue your journey into the abandoned site-

"Hey."

You paused and looked back at Sebastian, tilting your head as you wondered why he seemed nervous again--wringing his hands together.

"Um..thank you, genuinely..for taking that off my hands." He cleared his throat, sweeping back his dark bangs. "I hope that whatever you find in there doesn't..get in the way of our "partnership". I'd hate to lose my number one customer."

Nodding, you gave him a reassuring smile. "You won't lose my business, Seb. That I promise."

"..now hold on we aren't THAT close to start going by nickna-" He began to snap, but you've already disappeared into the duct. "Aaaand they're gone...hmph..well..least I don't have to worry about that anymore."

Sighing, he looked around the shop, wondering what he should do now.

What you did was certainly a nice gesture.

He only hopes you'll keep your promise and not be afraid of him.

[cherrxboy]

I had this idea and I HAD to write it because I know my bitchass would NOT write it any other time (it's 5 in the morning and I haven't slept)

CW: explicit smut, I think - GN!reader - Mean!Satoru - uhhh rough seggs - Toru being an asshole - eating out/bj/whatever (reader receiving) - overstimulation I believe - a bit (probably a lot) of degrading/humiliation and stuff... he calls you a slut like two times - pet names used: baby, sweets, love - he refers to himself as "daddy" once but there's nothing else about that - mentions of death but like he's just joking - aftercare. (Not proofread) tell me if I missed anything!

English is my second language and I'm sleep deprived auauughh this is probably shit but I hope you enjoy hehe cause I personally love mean!Satoru he makes me go tehehehhehwojspsjpsj. Sorry if there are any typos ;((

♡

We've all read the fics, we've all seen the man, we've watched the show and I can't get this image outta my head, this little broken tape going off in my brain that Satoru is one of the biggest meanies when y'all are going at it. Doesn't matter what you are, what's in your pants, if you're giving or taking– he's mean.

Satoru is the type of guy that would keep you spread for him while he goes down on you, not caring if your thighs start to cramp or your legs feel sore. At some point it's not even about your pleasure anymore. He just wants to see how far he can push you, what new faces you can make, what little noises he can take out of you and Oh his favorite: how many times can he make you cum with just his mouth in a certain time limit.

He starts going and counts, each and every one of your orgasms, while also keeping track of the time. He's the strongest, he's definitely broken some records and one thing he really loves is breaking his own records. How many times can he make you cum in 15 minutes? How about 10? How about 2?!

"C'mon, love..."

"just one more, yeah? Oh I know, I know it's hurting but I'm almost breaking my last record, isn't that amazing??"

"Puh-leaseee? I'm making you feel good too, aren't I? Don't deny it, babe. I'm pretty sure everyone heard us with how loud you were being."

"No no no, I'm not saying it's baaad. Actually, makes me curious about how many noise complaints we can get in a week–"

Satoru is the type of guy to literally make fun of you while he's rearranging your guts. The type of guy that laughs in your face when you're crying all prettily, telling him that 'oh you can't take it' or how 'it's too big!' He's folding you in half at this point, not even letting you look away, hide your face in the pillows or anything as one of his hands keeps you still for him and the other holds onto your face, cupping you cheeks and squishing them together to make your face all pouty and adorable; you're just drooling and your eyes keep rolling back but Oh you better pay attention to him otherwise he's slowing down until you're begging for him to go faster and harder.

His thrusts suddenly become so weak and lazy and it's just not enough but he doesn't care, doesn't care that it practically hurts him too, he just wants to see you try and beg him to move with that fucked out lil brain of yours.

"Ah- Ah- Ah~! Harder, Toru! Puh-leaseee, faster, daddy!" As he giggles and mimics your voice (very horribly).

"Oh it's too big? But you're taking it so well, love, look at you! Shiiit~ I'm all the way in your tummy, see? Yeahhh well maybe you can't with all those tears but I definitely can."

"Hey, eyes on me, sweets– thereee we go~ Lemme see your pretty face, yeah?"

"What was that? Oh you're gonna cum? Again? That's a bit rude, baby, don't you think? You're being really greedy tonight. But it's okay, you can cum~ I'm feeling generous tonigt."

Satoru is the type of guy to pull on your hair when he's fucking you from behind, just to bring you closer to himself and make your back arch almost uncomfortably, just to whisper dirty ass shits in your ears that he knows would get you off.

He's got you on all fours and his free hand is on your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh as he pounds into you, sometimes giving it a little smack, groaning and moaning deeply against your neck and sometimes whimpering if you give a roll of your own hips as well. He's not shy and doesn't see why some guys hold back their moans... you seem to like it a lot, so he definitely won't stay quiet.

"Fuuuck baby~ you're so tight and so fucking warm– mmm! I'm gonna break you... uh-huh, you're gonna stay here in bed for at least a week, sweets. And I'm gonna take good care of you, yeah? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Staying here, full of my cum as we just cuddle and hide away from the world... I'll give you load after load, baby, as many as you want~"

"Taking my cock so fucking well, like a good little slut– no no no, don't you dare run away, sweets~ fuckkk... I can feel you squeezin' me, baby. You like when I call you that? Like when I treat you like the lil slut you are?"

"Oh fuck– please, give it to me sweets, please! Wanna feel you, baby, wanna feel you tightening up– shiiit.. just like that! I'm gonna fill you up so good~ just a little more, 'k? You can take it... yeah you can, good job~"

Satoru is the type of guy that's mean during sex but Oh so sweet afterwards. Man does not care how many rounds you've all been through or how tired he is... he's giving you a nice warm bath and a massage because he just can't have his sweet partner be in pain, can he?

He talks all that shit about making you unable to walk but god he thinks he'd die if he had to stay in bed with you for a whole day! He loves you, don't get me wrong. He loves spending time with you and just being with you merely in your presence but he's an active person to say the least and he can't just sit still for more than 10 minutes!

So you best believe he's giving you the best aftercare as soon as you guys are done. A glass of water to sooth your throat, soft towels to clean you up with, a nice warm bath along with a massage to make sure you won't be sore by the next few hours and finally he takes you to bed and cuddles you, kissing you all over your face and mumbling little "I love you"s again and again and again.

"You were so good for me today... such an angel. God, I'm so lucky to have you."

"I love you, you know that, right? I love you so much. You're the best thing that happened to me. I love you... did I mention that I love you??"

"If you ever leave me I'm gonna cry myself to death and then haunt you in your dreams and possibly fuck you there if you let me. Sorry, was that too descriptive? I just love you so much, sweets. You can't blame a guy for loving his amazing wonderful perfect sexy partner, can you?"

♡

First post and it's a thirst daaaamn. I'm not making a good first impression y'all I'm sorry 😞☝️

[gothamite-rambler]

Batman has to constantly remind them he's not going down with the sinking ship when it's not his fault

Superman: Yeah, so we're turning ourselves into the government. Do you want to meet us there, or should we meet with you?

Batman: …

Wonder Woman: Batman, we're on a time crunch. Just give us your answer.

Batman (while driving, hesitating): First, I'm fine, thank you. How are you? Second, my son, who is in the car with me, is also fine… thankfully. Third, are you on crack?

Superman: I… We as a team voted that it's best if we turn ourselves into the government.

Batman (flatly): That's a decision you made. You guys have fun with it. Can I go now?

Wonder Woman: You’re part of the team! You have to turn yourself in!

Batman: Says who?

Wonder Woman: We decided as a team!

Batman: Yes, good for you. Why am I being dragged into this?

Wonder Woman and Superman: YOU ARE PART OF THIS TEAM!

Damian (in the background): Father, can we get McFlurrys later?

Batman (to Damian): Why do people eat those? They taste disgusting.

Damian: You have to get the one with the Oreos.

Superman: We’re still on the call!

Batman (annoyed): Right, not going in. Bye.

Wonder Woman: Don’t end the call! You have to hear us out.

Batman: I should just hang up, but I’m bored and need something entertaining to listen to. Proceed.

Flash (speaking first): Take one for the team, Bruce.

Batman: Okay, first, when I'm on a call with any of you, call me by my hero name. Commissioner Gordon can get away with that, but I’m not on that level with most of you. Second, I’m not on this team if you want me to do this ridiculousness. Third, seriously, are you on crack?

Green Arrow (in the background): Thank you for not saying heroin.

Damian (in the background): Father, why do they think you’re dumb?

Batman: Because they’re not very smart.

Green Arrow (expecting this): It’s amazing how badly this is going. I told you guys he’d say no, but nobody listens to me.

Batman: This is one of the rare times I agree with Arrow. I didn't sign up for a team where we all turn ourselves in for something I didn’t do.

Superman: It’s a team decision.

Batman: I don’t care.

Superman: But it’s for solidarity.

Batman: That I don’t care about.

Superman: Again, we’re a hero team. We’ve saved the world together; can’t you do this one little thing?

Green Lantern (Hal): And his response is…

Batman: Fighting villains, I enjoy. I wouldn’t be on a sports team, a firefighter team, or a doctor team with you if you're going to be this dense, and I sure as hell won't be on this team if you want me to do something this stupid. Is the brain cell you share gone for the day?

Superman: Okay, well… Kara is going with us.

Batman: And I've lost a little respect for her.

Supergirl: Hey! Wait, you had respect for me?

Batman: Did you contact any of my adult kids? Nightwing? Red Robin? I know Red Hood would just laugh before hanging up.

Superman: We haven't called them yet… but I bet they'd say yes!

Batman: No, they wouldn’t. I know that because they just texted my youngest son, who’s with me, and their messages say, “Not a chance in hell.” I didn’t even have to say anything. I raised them well.

Superman: Can’t you put aside your ego and just do this for us?

Batman: Who’s going to pick up my son from school? Go to my daughter's recital? Attend my other son’s group therapy session? Talk to my future fiancée about where I’ll be? Just curious, which one of you will handle that?

Batman waited for a few seconds, and none of the members responded.

Batman: Right. As stated, I'm not going, and if you call me again with this stupid request, I'm cutting the power to the building for a month. I will let that building decay to prove a point.

Damian: You tell 'em, Father!

Batman ended the video call without another word.

Wonder Woman: He’s getting calmer with his reactions.

Green Arrow: Yeah… Guys, maybe we don’t turn ourselves in this time. Maybe we… do something else? Anything else, because he has a point. I'm not sinking in the Titanic when there's a lifeboat.

Aquaman: Good Titanic metaphor.

Green Arrow: Thanks, man.

[martiansodas-blog]

🎾 🤍💐✨🎀

standford!art who’s your best friend finds out no guy has ever hit your gspot before :(

“are you being serious?”

but it's so fuckin easy! he thinks

your cheeks get warm. you focus on the various hangnails you have instead of making eye contact.

“um...yeah.” you say quietly.

he immediately regrets having such a big reaction and scolds himself.

those rotten frat guys, they only care about one thing.

“hey, hey,” he touches your cheek and crouches a little so he's no longer towering over you. “i didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetheart. it’s not your fault. they’re just inattentive."

“thanks.” you mutter with no expression in your voice.

he was too curious not to ask,

“have you ever found it by yourself?”

a laugh involuntary escaped.

“i’ve never tried.”

art fake pouts.

“you poor girl,” he coos, putting it on thick.

you scoff, but the heat in your cheeks only gets worse and you cant help but smile. he’s way too good at breaking your walls down, and he knew it

“i can show you, if you like.”

your body becomes unmoving.

"what?"

the most logical explanation you can think of is that he spoke a different language and it was lost in translation. because surely he wasn't offering what you think he was offering.

“what kind of friend would i be if i didn’t?”

he had that stupid smirk on his face.

“wait, you’re serious?? wha-”

he steps closer to you, close enough you can feel his body heat.

“we’ve always been closer than most friends, no?”

you shake your head.

“i mean, yeah, but that’s-“

his body goes stiff, eyebrows furrowed like that's the worst news you could've given him.

now he's the one shaking his head. his mostly blue eyes become fixed on the ground. he looked like a kicked puppy.

“that was a stupid idea. you're right. m'sorry. i don’t know why i brought it up."

he begins to walk off.

are you actually going to reject this offer from your insanely handsome best friend? half the girls at stanford would kill for this opportunity. and here it is, falling into your lap.

“wait!”

he wipes the smile off his face before turning around.

“yeah, uh… i’d like that.”

he breaks into a smile.

"really? i truly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

there's still a frown gracing his features.

"you didn't! you didn't. i was just caught off guard. that's all."

"...okay" he smirks slightly.

"okay."

another awkward silence presents itself. what should you-

"come over to my dorm at 8 tonight. that is of course unless you want to do it at yours and risk your roommate catching a free peep show."

his sudden confidence caught you off guard. he's giving you whiplash at this point.

"uh, no. no. yours is great."

who the hell can afford a private dorm as a sophomore?

oh right. tennis champions...

before he goes, he kisses you on the cheek. the first of many that would occur that day. his lips are the perfect proportion for his face and they feel like being touched by a pink cloud.

3 hours later

''FUCK, art, please"

"aww, i know baby. no one can treat you like i can."

its relentless. the entire time. the top half of him babys you while the bottom half tries to leave an imprint.

you didn't know your back could arch this much.

"are you gonna cry from how good it is? poor girl."

and you do. saltwater flows down your cheek and he wipes it off and cradles your head, showing you some mercy.

"you can do it, babygirl. you can give me one more, cant you?"

you nod fervently. it wasn't even about orgasming (of which you've done twice) anymore it was about making him happy.

"yes," you pant "ill come for you, artie, shit hnnn."

once you started babbling you couldn't stop. he thought it was adorable, honestly. he's never made a girl dumb on his cock this quickly. you really needed it.

you're gonna be so fun to play with. he thought.

he pecked your cheek while coaxing you through it.

"atta girl, make my cock all creamy for me. you can do it."

you feel every muscle, no. every atom in your body relaxes. and where your bodies met was so warm and slick and art might slip if he's not careful.

"there you go" he whispered into your neck. "so beautiful. such a good girl, im so proud of you. knew you could do it."

you think he is peppering kisses across your face and chest but you cant will your eyes to open yet and every inch of your skin is tingling.

your semiconsciousness works to his advantage because he loves resting inside you. he could fall asleep just like this but you probably wouldn't like that.

he strokes your hair and stares at you while you recover. he wants to let you fall asleep right away but knows that's not wise.

"c'mon, angel," he says softly as he scoops you up. "lets get you cleaned up."

[zeltqz]

call me or not, it's up to you.

☰ — synopsis : you come back home after a night out and see you accidentally posted your private stories public, and received a drunk lengthy voicemail from your ex, ran.

☰ — pairing : haitani ran x fem!reader ☰ — length : 2.4k words ☰ — contents : nsfw and 18+ contents, mentions of violence (sanzu being sanzu), slight phone sex; they don't directly communicate, ran being mildly toxic and messing with your emotions, teeny itsy bitsy drops of gaslighting ☰ — notes : i literally suck at writing toxic characters so im SORRY if this is literal ass, (im trying my hardestttt) i just had a dream about this and had to execute it as best as i could lol

It was a regular Thursday night when you stumbled into your date’s house, struggling to walk with half a heel working. 

“Let’s get you out of these.” He knelt before you and helped you unbuckle your heels and you sighed in relief when he slipped them both off. 

“Remind me to never wear heels again,” you giggled, clutching onto him. He leaned down and kissed you. You hummed, still feeling the buzz from the alcohol earlier and wrap your arms around his waist, kissing him back. “I had fun tonight.”

He cupped both your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses, each of them making you giggle at the ticklish feeling. “Me too.” There was a final lingering kiss before he pulled away. “Let’s get you ready for bed, alright?” He traced your cheekbones with his finger, and you smiled up at him, nuzzling your cheek against his hand.

“Okay.” He helped you up the stairs and you collapsed onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs as you laid there, clutching at his soft sheets.

“I’m gonna shower first, alright babe?” He said in the process of removing his shirt. “Wanna join me?”

You shook your head, eyes threatening to close shut as you nuzzled his pillow. “I’m alright. You go first.”

He bit his lip, admiring you splayed out on the sheets for a moment, his mind racing with all the things he could do you tonight if you’d join him in the shower. But of course his fantasies only stay in his head since you’ve been rejecting every single one of his advances for the last three months. It’s always the same excuses : you’re not in the mood, or you’re too tired. 

He sighed. “You sure babe?”

You’re half asleep at this point, just barely conscious as you murmur, “‘m sure.” His tongue poked his cheek and he nodded, saying nothing else and heading inside the bathroom. 

You vaguely hear the shower turn on and about to enter a deep sleep when your phone buzzes.

@/shibayuzuha : oh my god who is this man u’re with on ur story? He is CUTE!!

@/hina_tachibana : was this supposed to be posted on your main? 😢

“What story?” you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. You click  through your instagram story and rewatch the story you posted a few hours earlier when you were at the club. They were all videos of you and Masato dancing together, kissing, taking shots. Honestly you were buzzed the entire night and you thought you posted them on your private account, much less your close friends. “Oh fuck.”

You went to delete all the stories but the damage was already done, over 300 people already saw it. Oh well. That’s tomorrow’s problem. 

You lay back down, eyelids blinking slowly as you fight back sleep and check your missed phone calls you accidentally ignored. That’s when you see it. A voicemail from Haitani Ran. Any ounce of sleep in your body vanished the moment you sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes checking if you saw correctly.

It was over five minutes long and part of you wanted to delete it, but at this moment, you couldn’t help but be curious. You pressed play and put the phone up to your ear.

“Hey. It’s me. Hope I’m not blocked or whatever, I know how petty you can get.” He chuckled to himself and the deep rumble of it took you back to all those months ago when you’d be laying beside him, head on his chest and just listen to the sound of his heartbeat as he spoke on the phone.

There was a deep inhale and the familiar crackle of him smoking that always used to relax you. “Saw your story by the way. Is that your new boy toy? Two of you look good together.” He exhaled and his voice was kinda slurred. “Kinda glad you moved on though. Thought you’d never get over me to be honest.”

“Oh fuck off,” you mumbled. He was still as full of himself as he was when you both ended things almost a year ago. If this was a regular phone call you would’ve hung up or told him he’s not that special, but you looked down and still saw another six minutes left. What the fuck else could he possibly have to say to you?

He chuckled again, and it was so obvious he was drunk now, which surprised you as he was a heavy weight and in your three years of dating you saw him get drunk only twice. 

“You looked so fucking sexy in that dress, baby.” His groan had you squeezing your thighs together. “I can tell by the way he was holding you in those fucking videos he can’t handle you the way I can. He hasn’t fucked you yet, has he? Bet he’s real gentle and sweet with you not knowing you like it deep, and rough. Fuck, man.” He exhaled, rubbing his palm on his face. “Wanna know what I’d do if I was there with you baby?”

“...yes,” you whispered weakly to yourself. It was pointless; he couldn’t hear you and yet you were responding like he could. Blame it on the alcohol but there was nothing you wanted more than Ran right now.

“Bet you do. I’ll humour you though. I’ll take you to the dance floor and run my hands all over that body of yours, force that pretty head of yours back so I can mark all over your neck. Get you so hot and bothered till you’re begging me to fuck you. That happened one time didn’t it? Remember that one night in the club? I had my hands all over you and you dared me to flip your skirt up and fuck you right there. Man, you were such a tease, and a fucking sadist too. Remember when you said you wanted to watch some schmuck clean up my cum from the floor?”

You giggled and bit your lip, teasing your hands down your stomach. You remembered that night perfectly. Ran changed you when you were dating. You don’t even recognise yourself right now because everything just felt right when you were with him. Those years with him were the best of your life, you were young and figuring shit out. You’re still young and figuring shit out, but without him you’re taking a little longer to come to the conclusion of certain things.

Ran had his ups and downs. He was far from the perfect boyfriend, and he knew that. That’s why he was so surprised when you stayed for all those years despite his flaws. He was emotionally unavailable and never spoke about anything concerning him. He was sometimes rude and blunt when pissed off, and the arguments you both would get into would end up in the two of you ignoring each other for weeks. At first you’d be the one to break the silence and show up to his house and just hug him. He’d always smell like cigarettes and it should’ve disgusted you yet you couldn’t help but feel comfort. The smell was strong and yet it never bothered you when you smelt it on him. You’d apologise, crying in his arms as he embraced you back, rubbing up and down your back as you vented it all out in his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears. If he had people over he’d tell them to get the fuck out, hiding your face in his chest until the door closed.

That was the usual routine until the arguments got worst and your pride grew stronger and you’d refuse to talk to him  until he broke it first. He didn’t believe you at first but after a month of no contact he finally broke it first. Since then, he was always the one apologising first, showing up to your house in the middle of the night at random hours to tell you he’s sorry and didn’t mean what he’d said. 

The ups were better than the downs in the relationship. He’d teach you things, he always made you feel good, and simply being next to him was enough to make your entire week, even if it's for a few hours. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, like the most special girl to exist, and he helped boost your confidence by buying you nice things like clothes, accessories, lingerie, and tell you to look at yourself in the mirror and watch as he worships your body, taking his time to kiss his way down your stomach and thighs, and once he got to your pussy he swore  he could eat you out for hours, just until your thighs were shaking around him.

The memory of his tongue between your legs had your back arching off the bed clutching the phone tighter to your ear as you squeezed a hand between your legs, playing with yourself as he talked you through it over the phone.

“Bet you’re touching yourself right now,” he exhaled shakily. “If you’re not, you better start. Want you to remember how well I fucked you every time. Can you do that for me baby?”

“Mmhmm.” Thankfully Masato takes decades in the shower so you didn’t have to worry about him walking in or hearing. Not like you would’ve cared honestly. He’s not Ran, and he won’t ever be.

“Miss you being my good girl. Fuck. He doesn’t deserve to have his hands all over you. Should send Sanzu over and fuck, get him to cut all his fucking fingers off for touching you like that. Man, I bet that idiot doesn’t know that I fucked you in that same dress you know? That’s what got me so damn bothered right now. Wearing the shit I bought you to go fuck around?”

“‘M sorry,” you whimper, parting your folds and slipping as many fingers as you could fit inside without hurting yourself. No matter whatever you shove inside there, it never feels as good as Ran’s fingers, or tongue, or cock. “Need you so bad Ran.”

“Man, wanna hear how you sound right now. Bet you sound so sweet, like usual. Could you do something for me?” You nodded and stopped your fingers movements, listening to his next words.

“Call me again. I miss you so much it’s crazy. Got so much to talk to you about. It’s been how long? Couple months since I last heard from you. And I know you don’t hate me. You never could. That’s something I love about you. Always there for me when I need you. We both took each other for granted, you know? Deny it all you want but you did. And that’s okay. But I wanted to let you know if you ever come back into my life, I’m not letting you go. For real, not making that mistake again. I dunno why I called you tonight honestly, just drank a lot and now I fucking miss you. Call me or not, it’s up to you.”

Then he said the words that made your heart nearly stop and freeze over in your chest. “I love you.” 

Before you could even say it back the voicemail ended, leaving you conflicted.

[cherry-bomb-00]

Human things that non-humans find confusing or curious about part 1

I have seen little content on this topic, so I wanted to put my point of view, since it seems curious to me how brothers react or think about those little things about our human race.

-Human hair.

The brothers find it curious how hairy humans can be, and they also find it adorable how sometimes our hair falls out. They see us as a small kitten or puppy that loses their hair, and also because they hair don't falls out nor are they very hairy like humans, it is a small trait that they finds cute.

-Flexibility

We humans can achieve incredible flexibility, something that demons and angels cannot, since they have perfect bodies, so they movements are a little more limited when it comes to flexibility, so it surprises them that humans can stretch and flex. So well, the brothers for some reason like how MC's flesh and skin stretches, flexes or bends, and sees how the flesh forms small mounds or wrinkles slightly when their makes a flexible movement.

-Mimicry

In nature, mimicry exists to survive the environment, in the case of humans it is imitating gestures, behaviors and the language of another species or another person is a habitual behavior of the human being. This is a way of adapting to the environment and feeling part of a social group, so the demon brothers find it curious and even adorable, when we unconsciously imitate them with light gestures, behaviors or body language, also seeing how we talk to inanimate objects, such as telling a cup not to fall when it is wobbly or imitating a sound that we find funny or familiar, they finds all of this fun and interesting, even Mammon compares us to a flock of crows.

-Shiny thing

To our beloved demons, see with curiosity how we humans love shiny things, see how we find colored stones and our eyes shine, that seems adorable to them, and even more so when we collect any type of shiny stone, crystal or anything shiny. Sometimes even the brothers give us shiny things just to see how our faces shine with joy.

-Imagination

Another thing that surprises the demon brothers is our great imagination, that with anything, no matter how simple it is, we can entertain ourselves, such as grabbing branches and using them as a weapon to play, or when we are walking and want to avoid stepping on the stripes that is on the ground of the street, those little things make them see us so innocent and creative, since it is something that they do not think of or are very simple to do, and this trait in their little human makes being with them is funny.

I hope you liked it, I may do more parts, see you

[citricacidprince]

doodle request on relativity falls - id love 2 see ur vers of fiddleford and where he stands in the story!! :DD

Of course!!!

Oh Fiddleford, my dearly beloved Fiddleford, he’s just a little guy who makes machines that hurt people and I love him for that <3

In my Relativity Falls AU Fidds is a kid from Tennessee who moved to Gravity Falls pretty recently, like in the past year.

He’s still really handy with mechanics, like a genuine prodigy, but he’s so riddled with anxiety that it’s a battle to get him to share any of his projects outside of his robots he makes to get revenge on those who wrong him!

He really does like hanging out with the twins, he thinks their both fun and is very happy they actually wanna be his friend, however their constant ‘Getting into weird and magical trouble’ is so stress inducing to him he’s going to get gray hairs by the time he’s 20 (Dipper can relate-)

I don’t have a lot of things solidified for him yet, other than I want him to be EXTREMELY tempted to use the Memory Gun on himself, to forget a lot of the horrifying things he’s seen over the summer, but is stopped by Candy (The inventor of the gun) at the last second. You see, Candy didn’t spiral like Fiddleford did in the show, she only ever used the memory gun on herself once. However, she used it to erase every bit of knowledge she ever learned about the weirdness of Gravity Falls, and Candy had spent YEARS of her life dedicated to it, she was arguably more curious about the weirdness of Gravity Falls than Dipper was. He was only curious out of morbid curiosity, she saw the whimsy and wonder in it all. So when Candy used the Memory Gun on herself and erased such a huge chunk of her memory it cracked her psyche, not leaving her a rambling and insane kook like Fiddleford, but more oblivious and unaware to everything around her while also being a liiiiittle ‘not all there’.

Between the two of them Candy definitely got the better end of the stick. Fiddleford was deemed insane and used the memory gun over and over again until he couldn’t even remember who he was anyone, his life falling apart. Candy used it once to make sure no one could ever use her research to hurt anyone after she learned her lab partner was literally working with an otherworldly being who could go into peoples heads and it cracked her mind because her research WAS her entire life, leaving her oblivious and dazed. However, Candy managed to find people who cared about her and were willing to care for her despite this. Sure she lives in the dump, but whenever a storm comes through or she gets hungry she can always go up to her friends Grenda, Mabel Mason, or even Pacifica at some point to help her out. Fiddleford had no one.

I want Candy to give Fidds a little pep talk, convincing him that despite those memories being scary and uncomfortable he’s going to need all of them because they’re what will help him grow as a person. He can’t just pick and choose which ones he wants because one day he’ll realize he doesn’t have any memories left to burn.

Maybe there could even be a moment where Fidds tries to use the memory gun on Candy because he convinces himself he NEEDS it and doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of hating choice, but freezes up when he realizes it does work on her anymore. The realizes what he just did because of how badly he wanted that memory gun seconds after he did it and starts to tremble, dropping the memory gun as he begins uncontrollably crying that he ‘didn’t mean it’ and he’s sorry. Candy wouldn’t hold it against him, just seeing a scared kid who was so desperate to make the mind numbing anxiety that he would do anything, and she’d hug him and tell him it’s okay before leading him back to the rest of the group.

Fiddleford makes me soooo ill I love him <3

[itneverendshere]

Hii i love the bitchy!pogue!reader series and i would love to know how they first hooked up again, like what led them to keep going after their first night together. That's all, thx in a advance if you do it, i love your writing

the way i ran to write this lmao, thank you for the request ❤️ let's just say it wasn't planned at alll....it was fate👀

in spite of myself - drabble

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you swore the first time was the last.

you were simply… curious. you wanted to figure out just how far you could push his buttons without him taking it out on you.

you got your answer. you went to that party with the sole intent of pissing him off, but you hadn’t planned on ending up in his bed—not that you’d ever complain. but that was it.

you’d gotten your taste, of course you weren't expecting to run into him so...soon.

you’d learned to play along for these little trips into kookland. your cheap dress, bought solely to get you through the gates, hugged you a little too close—but that was the point, wasn’t it? you made a show of adjusting the neckline, scanning the room with that perfected boredom.

the moment you spotted him across the room, you nearly snorted, because of course he was here.

rafe, in all his buttoned-up glory. hair slicked back like he’d asked his barber for the "douchebag deluxe," wearing a shirt that probably cost as much as your entire car. he looked so at ease among his kind, you wanted to pat him on the head and give him a treat.

bingo.

he was pretending not to see you, standing there with some stuffy old kook in khakis so aggressively white they probably had a staff meeting dedicated to their upkeep.

but you could spot it: the clench in his jaw, his fingers twitching around his glass.

honestly, it was too easy. you’d barely taken a few steps in his direction, and his grip tightened like he was trying not to crush the glass just at the sight of you.

aww. you hadn’t come here for him, but the opportunity was irresistible, how could you say no to that face?

you took your time, internally giddy at how his stiff he looked the closer you got. you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh as you finally slid up next to him at the bar, taking your time, letting your eyes glide over his shoulders and back down to those broad, broad arms.

god, look at those arms, you thought.

this idiot must curl yachts for fun. absolutely absurd.

his gaze snapped to you, “what the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

poor thing, always so snappy.

you brought a hand to your chest, going for maximum innocence.

“who, me?” you blinked, leaning in with a soft, honey-dripping sigh. “just networking with the local elite. isn’t that what i’m supposed to do if i want to ‘rise above my station’?” you savored the horror flashing across his face.

rafe looked personally offended, like you’d just announced you were taking up golf, while you let your eyes drop to the line of his shoulders, lingering just a little too long on his chest before dropping.

slowly, slowly.

his face twisted like he was in pain, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself from the way you were very clearly undressing him with your eyes.

“cut that shit out,” he ground out, “i know what you’re doing.”

you raised an eyebrow, “doing what?” you shot him a wide-eyed, who, me? look, letting your gaze dip again. “i’m not doing anything.”

his face flushed as he hissed, “you’re doing it right now! act normal for once.”

he pulled away from you as if your pogue germs might rub off on him, but you’d seen that look on his face before.

“honestly, if you didn’t want attention cameron, maybe don’t wear that. kind of a slutty choice, don’t you think?”

his neck flushed deep red as he scowled. “excuse me?”

you shrugged, “just saying. last time, you had a lot to say about my outfit, didn’t you?”

“you’re fucking insane. leave me alone.”

you smirked, leaning closer, “oh, baby, i’ve already got what i wanted from you,” you purred. “unless, of course, you’re offering again?”

his jaw tensed, and he looked away as if even looking at you would ruin his day. but he was still here, wasn’t he?

“don’t flatter yourself. i’m done with you,” he muttered.

you shot him a wicked grin, “flatter myself?” you let out an exaggerated laugh, turning heads nearby. “i’m here on a date.”

rafe’s smirk dropped, and he cast a quick, possessive look around the room before moving his attention back to you.

“a date?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

you nodded as you pointed toward the back, where your “date”—some poor kook with a summer tan and daddy’s credit card—stood waiting near the hors d’oeuvres table, oblivious.

“did you think i came here just for you?” you tilted your head, letting the words sting. “i don’t do repeats, country club. got what i wanted, remember?”

he looked like he was about to set the place on fire, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at your so-called date. you could sense the gears turning in his head. god, this was just too easy.

“maybe you should run along, hmm?” you said, your voice light and mocking. “can’t imagine what your country club buddies would think, seeing you all worked up over a pogue.” you flashed him a dazzling smile before tossing a wink, then spun on your heel, leaving him there seething.

you could feel his stare burning into your back as you sashayed over to your “date.” this was way too fun.

lunch was mind-numbing, but free, so you were perfectly okay tolerating the “date”—or, as you preferred to call it, the idiot with a wallet—while he droned on about his family’s fleet of yachts or some bullshit about generational wealth. you nodded along, not listening as he bragged. as if you even gave a fuck.

when he finally paused to shove more overpriced pasta into his mouth, you decided you needed a break from the snooze-fest.

“excuse me, i’ll just pop to the ladies’ room,” you murmured, batting your lashes like the good, sweet little pogue he thought he’d bagged for the afternoon. as soon as you were clear of him, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

the second you got into the quiet of the bathroom, you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, shaking your head.

what a fucking bore.

you’d honestly rather be anywhere else—well, except maybe with rafe, since he’d probably drag you back to the ninth circle of pogue-hating hell.

as you were checking your lipstick in the mirror, the door swung open, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“um, excuse you?” you snapped, eyebrows shooting up. “i know you have a thing for following me around, but the ladies’ room? have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

rafe didn’t answer.

he stalked forward, looking pissed as he backed you up against the sink, boxing you in without so much as a second thought. there was something about the way his forearms flexed when he did that.

ridiculous, he most likely got pumped up just pouring a glass of water.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. oh my god.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, but the sound came anyway, echoing off the fancy-ass tiles. “oh my god, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

he leaned in even closer. “you think this is funny?”

“funny?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “it’s hilarious. i’m here for lunch. you know, food? the stuff people eat? he offered, and i like free shit. it’s that simple.”

“you’re doing this just to piss me off,” he accused.

“oh, get over yourself,” you scoffed. “you think i’m obsessed with you or something? i wasn’t even thinking about you until you came barging in here like a lunatic.” you leaned back, giving him a brazen, challenging look. “can you move, by the way? i was enjoying the break.”

his nostrils flared, but you didn’t even care. if he wanted to lose his shit, fine—he was the one who walked in here. you stared him down, totally unfazed, holding his gaze until he broke it.

“careful,” you added, your voice mocking and low. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous. because, i gotta be honest, you look like you’re about two seconds away from—”

“shut up,” he growled, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “you show up here, flaunting yourself like you don’t remember exactly how last week ended, like you weren’t begging me to—”

“oh please,” you interrupted, ignoring the pleasure that traveled up your spine. “let’s not rewrite history.”

his hand gripped your cheeks, blunt nails pressing in from either side as he pulled you close, capturing your jaw to hold you still. the pressure of the squeeze pulled your pouty lips together, forcing you to look up with wide eyes.

“stop talking."

you tried to smirk around his grip, feeling the bite of his fingers, but your words came out muffled.

“what’s wrong, country club? can’t handle a little conversation?”

“just can’t help yourself, can you?”

you could hardly nod, your eyes gleaming with defiance as you let out a small, mocking hum of agreement.

his hands slid down from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, fingers firm as his mouth pushed against yours. you giggled into the kiss, entirely too pleased with yourself as you tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling until he groaned.

“this is the last time,” his voice was ragged against your lips, but the words sounded half-hearted, he was trying to convince himself.

you smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, tilting your head to test him, see if he’d let you go. instead, his hand was already sliding up your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your lips, holding you right there.

“you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “think you can just look at me like that, say whatever you want…”

“who says i can’t?” you purred, lips brushing against his as you taunted, “if you don't want this, maybe you should go.”

his grip tightened, a curse slipping past his pretty lips, streaked with the deep red of your lipstick, glossy with both your spit.

and fuck, did he look good like that—disheveled, unguarded, his face painted with your lipstick like a silent confession of just how far he’d let himself go with you despite his fucked morals.

rafe let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he muttered, “last time, swear to god.”

[littlelamy]

An au request idea I can't get out of my head......Rafe is a cowboy and does rodeo shows with bulls and has just started dating Reader, On their first date, he takes her to his stables where he has a fake saddled tied up to mimick being pulled and dragged around (so he can practice). Rafe helps her up on it for fun but realises he has made a mistake when he starts having dirty thoughts from how sexual it looks and tries to be a gentlemen, being super awkward barley holding it together while she's shy and obvlivous

parings: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: none

rafe adjusted his hat, a grin playing at his lips as he led you down the dirt path toward the stables. his boots kicked up little clouds of dust with every step, the quiet hum of the countryside wrapping around the two of you like a comforting embrace.

you’d been seeing each other for a few weeks now, and this was your first proper date. rafe had been eager to show you his world, the place that meant everything to him. his excitement was infectious as he talked about the bulls, the rodeo shows, and his life as a cowboy.

“you ever been around bulls before?” he asked, glancing at you with those piercing blue eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

you shook your head, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “never been this close. it’s a little intimidating.”

“don’t worry,” he reassured you, his hand brushing lightly against yours. “i’ll keep you safe.”

when you reached the stables, the scent of hay and leather filled the air. rafe led you inside, pointing out the different stalls, the various equipment he used for training. your eyes widened as you took it all in, fascinated by the glimpse into his world.

then he stopped in front of a contraption that looked like a bull, but made of leather and wood, with a saddle strapped on top. it was rigged up to ropes and pulleys, clearly a practice setup.

“this here’s for training,” rafe explained, a hint of pride in his voice. “helps me get used to the movements, stay in shape for the real thing.”

you tilted your head, curious. “so you just…ride that?”

he chuckled, the sound warm and rich. “yeah, pretty much. want to give it a try?”

your eyes widened. “me? oh, I don’t know…”

“it’s safe, i promise,” rafe said, holding out a hand. “i’ll be right here the whole time.”

your heart pounded as you took his hand, letting him help you up onto the makeshift bull. his hands were strong and steady as they guided you, making sure you were comfortable. once you were seated, he stood back, watching you with an almost boyish excitement.

but then something shifted.

as you adjusted in the saddle, leaning forward slightly, rafe's breath hitched. the way your hips moved, the curve of your body as you tried to balance—it sent a jolt straight through him. you shifted your weight to get comfortable, causing your chest to bounce slightly with the movement, your breasts rising and falling in a way that rafe couldn't ignore.

he swallowed hard, his eyes fixated on the subtle motion. the gentle sway of your body, the way your thighs gripped the saddle—it was all too much. the way your shirt clung to you, outlining your curves, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you laughed—it all burned into his mind. he cursed himself silently, trying to push the images away.

“this isn’t so bad,” you said, oblivious to the effect you were having on him.

“uh…yeah,” rafe stammered, his usual confidence slipping. he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to focus on anything but the way your body moved so naturally, so sensually on the saddle. “you’re a natural.”

you giggled, shifting again, bouncing lightly to test the movement of the saddle. the slight jiggle of your breasts with each bounce had rafe's jaw tightening, his jeans suddenly feeling a little too snug. he took a step back, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought to maintain his composure.

“maybe…uh, maybe that’s enough for now,” he said, his voice a little strained. “don’t want you to get too sore.”

you frowned slightly, confused by his sudden change in tone. “oh, okay. did I do something wrong?”

“no, no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “you were perfect. just…you know, safety first.”

he helped you down, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary on your waist before he let go. as you landed on your feet, you stumbled slightly, pressing against his chest. the warmth of your body against his, the softness of your curves pressed into him—it was nearly his undoing. he sucked in a breath, stepping back to create some distance.

as the two of you walked back toward the house, your hips swayed naturally with each step, and rafe found himself trailing just a bit behind, his eyes betraying him as they followed the movement. every step, every sway—it all stirred something primal in him. he clenched his fists, trying to focus on anything but the growing tension in his body.

“you okay?” you asked, glancing back at him, a hint of concern in your eyes.

“yeah,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “just...thinking about what to eat.”

you nodded, your shy smile returning. “i’m fine with anything.”

rafe's eyes lingered on your lips as you spoke, imagining the taste of you, the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips. he shook his head slightly, trying to shake the thoughts away, but they clung to him like the scent of hay in the stables.

rafe felt the tension between you grow. every glance, every accidental touch seemed to spark something deeper. and as you walked side by side, he knew it was only a matter of time before his restraint snapped, and he’d show you just how wild you made him feel.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @heywardsdoll

[justsomerandomfanfic]

This Is Halloween - Bruce Wayne X Female Reader (ft. Batfam)

Title: This Is Halloween

Bruce Wayne X Female Reader (ft. Batfam)

Additional Characters: Damian, Jason, Dick, Tim, Alfred (Mentioned), Wally (Mentioned), random old lady, children (Mentioned), and Talia (Mentioned)

WC: 3,958

Warnings: Can be imagined as any Bruce Wayne (I just chose Bale, cause I love him), very brief mention of violence, brief mention of death/killing, italics, teasing, banter, references, nicknames, Reader is called 'mom' 'ummi' and 'ma,' Reader is mentioned to wear a dress, very brief mention of blood, good ol' family fluff, and fluff fluff

Walking down the long candy aisle, you tossed bag after bag into your shopping cart. Tomorrow night was Halloween, and you needed to be well-prepared for the horde of trick-or-treaters that were going to stop by the Wayne Manor to try and snag some treats and full-sized candy bars. Everyone knew that Bruce Wayne and his wife were mighty generous, the latter more so - especially when it came to Halloween. 

It was your favorite holiday after all. 

But, you weren’t alone. Damian followed right beside you, quiet as always. He stayed close, never straying too far from the cart - despite you telling him that he could wander around the aisle if he was getting bored. 

Honestly, you didn’t know why he insisted on coming with you, knowing full well that you were getting Halloween candy. You hoped that he was just curious about the holiday, or he wanted to spend more time with you, but you didn’t really know when it came to Damian. 

Really, it looked like he was bored; there was a small frown on his face and everything. But, normally there was always a frown on his face… So…

Stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his pants, he turned to look up at you as you continued to smile, humming along to the Halloween song that was playing from the store’s speakers; throwing bag after bag into your cart. Which was growing pretty full at this point, and kind of heavy to push but you powered through. 

“What is the point of this holiday?” Damian suddenly spoke up, eyeing you as you paused, grabbing a giant bag of assorted Jolly Ranchers.

“Well,” You began, smiling down at your youngest son, “Do you want the original lore or what the holiday means nowadays?” You asked, and Damian pursed his lips.

“Both.”

Nodding, you continued on with your candy shopping, “Alright, well,” You worried on your bottom lip momentarily, “A long time ago, people believed that spirits could come back to the world on Halloween. So, they’d light big fires and dress up in costumes to scare them away.” You glanced down at him, seeing that his eyebrows were furrowed, “Over time, it just turned into this fun holiday where we dress up and go door-to-door for candy. Nothing really spooky about it now - just good fun.” You shrugged, unable to stop the big smile from forming on your face, “It can be spooky though if you watch scary movies, or go to some haunted house attraction or something. But those kind of end up being more fun than actually terrifying most of the time too.”

Damian turned his nose up, “Ummi, I don’t understand how any of that would be considered fun.” He huffed, rolling his eyes, “It’s childish.”

Pausing your cart, you looked back down at him with a small smile. You knew Damian never really had the chance to be a kid, to act like a kid, to go and experience all the fun things that kids usually experienced. He was born and raised to be an assassin. He never got to play, never got to imagine, or learn how to be a kid. 

When you came into Bruce’s life, and in turn, the kids’ lives two years ago, Damian was still such a young boy. He had no idea what being a kid was like. He didn’t know - but was beginning to understand - that the world offered more than just going out killing someone or beating someone up. 

“Well, it is a holiday where mostly children participate,” You reasoned, trying your best to hide your amusement as the look of disgust spread across his face at the thought, “I understand that you had not grown up with it, and I understand that it does seem very childish…” You trailed off before continuing, “But, I think… If you are willing this year… That you should at least give it a try.” You shrugged once more, making Damian look up at you with a small glare. “And if you don’t like it, then you don’t have to do it next year. If you do not wish.”

Damian’s brow furrowed further, his lips curling in disdain. “Why should I care for such ridiculous traditions?” He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Parading around in costumes for candy? It’s beneath me.”

You bit back a smile at his reaction, the typical arrogance still so present despite how much he had grown since you first came into his life. “I know you think it’s pointless,” You said calmly, “But it’s not just about costumes and candy. It’s about taking a moment to step away from the seriousness of the world. It’s about fun.”

“Fun,” Damian repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“Yes, fun,” You nodded. “And you’re still a kid, Damian. You deserve to have a little bit of that, too.” Seeing that he was staying silent, you continued, “If you will allow it, can I show you what Halloween is really all about?” You offered, keeping your voice calm, yet hopeful.

Damian held your gaze for a long moment, clearly considering the idea - you had half a mind to think that he was always curious about the holiday, especially since most of the family loved the holiday. Finally, he let out a sigh, followed by a small, reluctant nod, “Fine. But if this turns out to be as pointless as I think, you owe me.”

You smiled, nodding, knowing this was a big step for him - a step out of his comfort zone - “Deal. I think you’ll be surprised.” You placed the last candy bag into your cart, “Do you want to go to Spirit Halloween? We can find you a costume, and one for me, too. You can help me pick, if you like.” You began walking towards the checking counter, “Your father has decided to not participate in Halloween this year, which sucks because I already bought our costumes, but hey,” You shrugged, glancing down at Damian with a mischievous grin, “That just means that there is more candy for you, me, and your brothers.”

Damian’s mind whirred with determination upon hearing your words. This holiday was obviously very special to you, and you seemed disappointed that Bruce had decided to forgo Halloween this year. He pursed his lips, a plan slowly forming in his mind. 

~~~

Later that evening, Damian found himself standing outside of Bruce’s study, staring at the closed door. Raising his hand, he knocked briskly, “Father.”

“Come in,” Bruce replied, and Damian stepped inside. Bruce looked up from his desk, hunched over a stack of papers, “What is it, Damian?”

“Why are you not dressing up for Halloween with Ummi?” He cut straight to the point - like with most things.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I have a lot of paperwork to finish for Wayne Enterprises. It’s not that I don’t want to-”

“You always say that family comes first,” Damian interrupted, his eyes narrowing, “Isn’t this family time?”

Looking down at the paperwork on his desk, he hummed, Bruce paused, a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “Well, I guess I could finish this later.”

“You can,” Damian spoke curtly, “Good night, father.” He then left the study without another word, shutting the door behind him.

Bruce smiled to himself, staring at the door, “Good night, Damian.”

~~~

“Jayjay! I haven’t seen you in forever! You really need to come and visit me more often.” You exclaimed, hugging Jason tightly as he chuckled, hugging you back. 

Resting his head against your head, he let out a sigh, “I saw you last week, ma,” He spoke, already dressed in his costume, “I’m glad to see you though.” He admitted, stepping back to look around the main entrance, “Where is everyone?”

You waved your hand randomly in the air, “Somewhere. D arrived before you, and Tim before him since his college is nearby. And Dami might be in his room, probably changing into his costume.”

At that, Jason raised an eyebrow, “Damian is coming with us?” He asked, shocked, “Did you bribe him or something?”

“I convinced him,” You emphasized, grinning as Jason just rolled his eyes, his grin matching yours.

“Of course you did.” He murmured, shaking his head, “This is going to be a disaster.”

You huffed, giving him a short look but before you or Jason could say anything more, Dick rushed out from the hallway that led towards the kitchen; wearing his ‘The Flash’ costume. Something that he and Wally had come up with to do together for some party after trick-or-treating; Wally was going as Nightwing, and Dick was going as The Flash. You thought it was quite funny.

“Mom, Tim needs help or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “He needs help?”

Dick nodded, “Yeah, he may or may not have tried to bake last-minute cookies. He made chocolate chip ones, and then somehow managed to burn them to the point that we could probably use them as hockey pucks in the winter.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Jason asked his brother, only for Dick to cross his arms.

“I was busy doing something else.” Jason’s face scrunched up into a look of disbelief at his words, but you just rolled your eyes.

Hearing a loud crash from the kitchen, you turned back to your two oldest boys. “I’ll be right back. And please be nice to each other, you two. Send your father this way if you see him!” You called out to them as you speeded towards the kitchen.

~~~

True to their word, about thirty minutes later, Bruce was sent to the kitchen, where he found you helping Tim with his burnt cookie disaster. Turning around, you froze, eyes wide for a split second before placing the burnt cookies on the counter and brushing off your cookie crumb hands. You were in shock, seeing Bruce all dressed up in his striking Hades costume that you had bought him two months prior.

He wore a long, flowing black velvet robe that cascaded down to his feet, with subtle purple accents. And, underneath, he had on a fitted black tunic that highlighted his strong build, paired with dark fitted pants. A belt with intricate silver detailing cinched his waist, featuring motifs of skulls.

On his head was a silver crown shaped like twisted branches, giving him a royal yet ominous presence. He even wore the blank strapped sandals you bought him. 

“Bruce…” You trailed off, your mouth agape as he left you speechless.

Bruce stood there a bit awkwardly for a moment before clearing his throat, “I believe you wanted to see me?” He asked, reminding you that you had been wanting to speak to him.

“Oh, yeah,” You swallowed thickly, “I… I was going to try and convince you to dress up… But it seems that you’ve already changed your mind.” You muttered, a bright smile growing on your face as you simply admired your husband at this point.

He adjusted the neckline of his costume, “Yeah, you should ask Damian about that.” He confessed, and your smile softened, your heart warming at his words. “I feel very awkward.”

“Dami convinced you?” You asked, and Bruce just gave you a small, knowing smile. You let out a sigh before freezing once more. Looking down at your Halloween-themed hoodie and sweats, you cringed. “Oh! I have to get dressed!” You stumbled over your own two feet, pressing a kiss to Tim’s temple, who had been trying to hide his snickers from the whole situation happening before him. Pausing beside Bruce, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, “You look oh-so very handsome, my love.” You assured him lovingly, but quickly, and before he knew it, you had sped out of the kitchen, leaving him with a snickering, and very amused, Tim. But, your sweet words did help him somewhat.

“Did Damian really convince you?” He asked, and his father nodded as he crossed his arms. Shaking his head, Tim smirked, “You’re getting soft, old man.”

~~~

“I swear, if Damian takes any longer, we’re going to miss the entire trick-or-treating window,” Jason grumbled, dressed in his V costume from ‘V for Vendetta.’ He leaned against the banister of the main stairs, arms crossed, the mask's strap looped over his arm. “What’s he doing up there anyway? Practicing his scowls?”

Dick chuckled, “Maybe he’s trying to find the right shade of brooding to match his costume.”

“And what about you?” Jason shot back, rolling his eyes, “You’re going to run out of breath from all the speedster puns.”

Tim, dressed as The Doctor from ‘Doctor Who,’ glanced over his sonic screwdriver with a teasing smirk, “At least I’m not stuck wearing spandex.”

Bruce, in his Hades costume, tried to maintain some semblance of authority as he interjected, “Can we focus, please? I’d like to enjoy this night without all of you bickering.”

“Awe, c’mon, B! What’s a little banter among brothers?” Dick grinned, nudging Bruce playfully. “Besides, you’ve got a whole ‘dark lord of the underworld’ vibe going on. It suits you.”

Just then, at the sound of footsteps, all four of them turned their heads towards the top of the stairs; the banter ceased, and the air filled with a mixture of awe and shock. You descended down the stairs, your Persephone costume shimmering under the lights of the mansion. 

You wore a flowing, floor-length dress in soft shades of lavender and pastel pink. The fabric draped elegantly over your figure, with delicate layers that swayed gently as you moved. A fitted bodice showcased your silhouette, adorned with intricate floral embroidery that spiraled around the neckline, resembling blossoming vines. 

Your hair perfectly framed your face, and on the top of your head, was a crown of flowers - daisies, roses, and lilacs. The crown sat perfectly upon your head, exuding an ethereal charm. Your eyes sparkled with mischief and bright joy, making you look just like the Goddess of Spring and Queen of the Underworld. The sight left Bruce momentarily speechless as he admired the absolute beauty before him.

“Wow, mom,” Tim’s eyes were wide with surprise, “You look like you walked straight out of a myth.”

Jason huffed with faux annoyance, “Great, ma won Halloween again.”

Dick sighed, clapping Jason and Tim’s shoulders, “Yep, better luck next time.”

Your heart soared at their reactions, a wave of pure happiness washing over you. “Thank you, my boys.”

Bruce, however, remained quiet, his expression softening as he took you in. The corners of his lips twitching upward ever so slightly. “You look beautiful,” He finally said, his voice low and sincere. The pride in his eyes was unmistakable.

You let out a sigh, your own expression softening a bit, “Thank you, Bruce.” You walked over, adjusting his collar a bit, “And thank you for dressing up. It means the world to me.” You added, before leaning up to press your lips against his in a gentle kiss. As you pulled away, the sound of exaggerated groans filled the air.

Jason immediately made a face, scrunching up his nose in mock disgust. “Ew, not in front of me!” He exclaimed, dramatically turning his head away.

Dick laughed, shaking his head as he fanned his face dramatically. “I think I just lost my appetite for candy!”

Tim pretended to gag, leaning against the banister for support. “Can we please keep the PDA to a minimum? I still have to look at you two tonight.”

Bruce merely raised an eyebrow, a small, amused smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the chaos unfold. “You all are the ones making it a spectacle,” He replied, trying to maintain his composure.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the brothers' antics. “Alright, alright! Enough, or we’ll never get out the door,” You chuckled out, your cheeks slightly flushed. “Now, where is my Dami?”

Before anyone could answer, you heard a loud huff from the stairs. Looking up, you gasped silently, clasping your hands together at your chest. 

Damian stood at the top of the staircase, dressed in a classic Dracula costume. A long, black cape draped over his shoulders, its interior lined with deep crimson fabric. The cape was fastened at his throat with a striking brooch.

His attire beneath the cape featured a crisp white dress shirt, its collar dramatically high. A fitted, white vest, and tailored trousers completed the look, giving him an air of aristocracy that was unmistakably vampire. His dark hair was slicked back, highlighting his piercing green eyes.

Jason, leaning against the wall, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Look at you, Dracula! All dressed up and ready to suck the fun out of Halloween.” He teased, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

Dick then chimed in, “I wish I had my camera. I didn’t know we were getting a special guest from Transylvania tonight!”

Tim, always the quick wit, added, “Just don’t let him get too close - he might actually try sucking our blood or something.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at Jason, Dick, and Tim, his expression darkening slightly, “Your pathetic attempts at humor are more laughable than your costumes. If you continue, I might just find a way to steal all of your candy that you get tonight.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Bruce’s authoritative voice spoke up.

As the teasing subsided, you felt your eyes burn with happy tears. You made your way over to Damian, your heart swelling with appreciation for his efforts. Kneeling before him, you looked up at him with a smile. 

“Damian,” You spoke softly, “Thank you for dressing up. I promise that you’re going to have fun tonight, so don’t worry, okay?”

He looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction, “I suppose it is more bearable with you.” He replied, his tone still carrying that hint of stoicism.

“Just stick with me, and I promise you’ll enjoy every moment.”

~~~

The air was crisp and filled with the sweet scent of autumn as you, Bruce, Damian, Jason, Dick, and Tim strolled down the sidewalk of a beautifully decorated neighborhood in Gotham. Colorful lights adorned the houses, their yards filled with Halloween decorations; skeletons, blow-up decor, and those styrofoam tombstones. Groups of children scampered around, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves.

Alfred, dressed in his usual Butler attire - though, he claimed that he was dressed as Wadsworth from the movie ‘Clue’ - was stationed in one of Bruce’s cars, waiting for the six of you to arrive back in the car to drive to the neighboring neighborhood; he wasn’t bored, he was probably playing Candy Crush on his phone or something.

Jason, ever the competitive spirit, dashed ahead with Tim and Dick, challenging each other to see who could reach the next house first. Speedrunning the trick-or-treating. While, you walked at a leisurely pace beside Bruce and Damian. 

Damian stuck close to you, his empty Halloween bucket that he begrudgingly picked out at Spirit Halloween in his hands. His gaze was mainly focused on the other children as they ran excitedly to their next house, Halloween buckets or pillowcases in hand. You noticed him observing their antics, his brow furrowed in contemplation as he stopped walking.

“You’ve got this, Damian,” You encouraged gently, “Just think about all the candy you’ll get.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncertainty evident, “It seems trivial.” He muttered, but his eyes betrayed him, watching as a group of kids ran up to a house.

“Want me to show you?” You asked, “And then you can do it by yourself when you feel comfortable?” 

Bruce watched the interaction silently, seeing how patient you were with Damian. You were always so patient with his boys, but especially with Damian. You had always been this way, nurturing and supportive, a steady presence in his and his boys’ lives. He had so much love and gratitude for you. 

Damian hesitated but then looked up at you, “Fine.”

“Alright then, let’s go get some candy!” You said with a smile, leading him towards the house before you, Bruce stayed back on the sidewalk, watching with an adoring and approving smile. As you approached the door, you turned to Damian. “So, ring the doorbell, and when they open the door, you have to say ‘trick or treat.’ Then, they’ll put some candy in your bucket, and then you can say ‘thank you.’ Easy-peasy.”

Damian took in your words, nodding a short curt nod, before raising his hand to ring the doorbell. The door swung open shortly after, revealing an older woman. 

“Oh, hello, young man.” She smiled, “That’s a wonderful Dracula costume you’re wearing.”

You looked down at him, placing your hand on his shoulder for support as he brought out his bucket, “Trick-or-treat,” He stated, and the woman’s smile widened as she reached into her large bowl of candy; your youngest son watching as she dropped a good, mighty handful of candy into his bucket. “Thank you.” He added, almost too quickly, his shoulders relaxing a little more.

The woman chuckled softly, “Oh, you are very welcome! Happy Halloween!”

As the door shut, Damian turned to you, a hint of pride creeping up in his voice, “I did it.”

“I am very proud of you.” You exclaimed as you both walked back down to the sidewalk, where a very proud Bruce stood. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Rolling his eyes, though, the smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips. “It was tolerable.” He replied, his typical Damian tone returning.

“Well, let’s get some more candy. Don’t want your brothers to outdo you.”

Damian straightened, “I won’t allow that.” He declared, and with a new vigor, he stepped confidently toward the next house; you and Bruce followed behind, watching as he started trick-or-treating on his own.

Bruce glanced down at you, a soft smile forming on his lips. “You really have a way of bringing out the best in him.”

“Damian just needed a little encouragement,” You replied, watching as he confidently approached the next house. “He’s got a good heart underneath that tough exterior.” You smirked lightly, “Just like his father.”

Bruce mimicked your smirk, huffing, his gaze focused on Damian as he rang the doorbell at the next house. “Thank you for always being there for him… For all the boys.” He said, sincerity clear in his voice. He wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

“Of course, Bruce,” You leaned into him as you both walked down the sidewalk. Damian sped ahead towards the next house, giving Dick, Jason, and Tim a run for their money. “The boys - and Alfred, of course - mean the world to me, just as you do. I love you all so, so much.”

“They love you too. And I love you too.” He leaned down to mutter. You hummed, shutting your eyes briefly as you raised your hand, cupping Bruce’s cheek as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “So,” He sighed out, returning his attention to his children, “Do you think we should implement the parent’s candy tax this year?”

“Let’s figure that out when we get home.” You laughed out, envisioning the lighthearted chaos that awaited you. 

As you continued down the sidewalk, you watched Damian dart from house to house, his confidence growing with each ring of the doorbell, and knock on the door. He was gradually gaining on Jason, Dick, and Tim, who were playfully nudging each other out of the way as they grabbed candy from a bowl on someone’s porch.

This Halloween was going wonderfully, and you had a feeling there would be many more like it in the future.

---

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[yurinaa-world]

"𝑅𝑒𝓅𝓊𝓃𝓏𝑒𝓁 𝑅𝑒𝓅𝓊𝓃𝓏𝑒𝓁 𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝒟𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝐻𝒶𝒾𝓇"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Moze, Jing Yuan, Aventurine, & Blade x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: His hair is something else

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝑀𝑜𝓏𝑒 “𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔”

A shadow guard like Moze has no time to take care of himself, which truly does explain the texture of his hair, rough and slightly tangled—because he never took care of it, has a lot of split ends with how his hair was styled and cut, it’s horrendous. 

He doesn’t have time to care about outside appearances and you usually can’t catch him on a day off to take care of his body properly until he (unlucky) gets injured and gets sent home, acting shameful and wishing he did things differently as if he got suspended from school. But you think this is positive since now he should take his “day off” and take care of himself.

Since he’s spending it with you, he’ll accept his situation. “See now you’re hair feels nice,” you complimented, scratching his scalp with your fingers, while you sat on the bed and had him sitting on the ground; his arm around your calf, pressing the side of his face against your knee. He may have been injured, but at least he can enjoy every part of your body, even your legs. “Doesn’t it feel nice when finally take care of hair?”

“Mhm,” He hummed. forget his hair, the feeling of you is way better to him. It might just be his only bliss. His hair was usually dry and unkept, like a quick comb (if he was lucky) and getting out there. (He would try to fix it up when going to see you, like running his hands slightly through it—just making him look like a total goof). 

Such rugged and matted feeling to it, yet it never bothered him when it was in his face, you always chided him about personal care, and he tried to listen, he truly did but his life had always been like this before you fell into his life. Old habits just die hard.

“Moze, move, I need to dry your hair.” Gently tapping him so he could move off your leg so you could dry his hair, yet he refused, he wanted to stay in this position for a little longer, but for the first time in a long time, he’s let his guard down.

“Forget it.”

💫𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈"

His hair is slightly messy when he puts it down from that ponytail he wears every day, his hair has been cut in several different layers which has just caused a complete mess when it’s put down. You needed a closer look at it, just curious, which he doesn’t mind at all, just keep running those pretty fingers like a lullaby being sung to a child and he won’t complain.

There may be a few tangles here and there, yet his hair was soft. The odd thing is, there are always birds popping in and out of that white nest that he calls his hair so you didn’t expect it to feel so good! 

“Seems like you’re having fun, yet try to be a little gentle with me.” 

That tired expression accompanied by his groggy voice, looking up at you from your soft lap as if you were some being out of this world. 

“Was I being too rough?” You worried, stopping your fingers, “I was only messing with you, keep on going,” he reassured you, a smile plastered on his lips just to make feel better, which you just laughed at before going back to where you left off. 

“Your hair is so odd.”

“What is odd about it?”

“So many layers and cuts at this point you’ll just have to wait for it to grow back to put into one proper layer.” you talked like some sort of dictionary that you were all about hair, yet it was adorable that you analyzed the strands of his hair as if he were your subject in a lab. 

“Do you like the style of it now?” he hummed, eyes closed and relaxing while your gentle fingers prodded against his scalp.

 “Of course I do! It suits you well! I couldn’t imagine you with anything else.”

“If you like it then I shall keep it that way.”

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

His hair looks like something out of a commercial, it looks so glossy like a diamond, looking smooth and soft to the touch, and you can't forget how well-moisturized it is. It makes any hair model jealous of him, yet it just makes you wanna touch his hair more, just to feel if it’s as soft as it looks. You can’t help yourself, it’s more like a need than a want.

No tangles, no matting, nothing bad at all. Just a touch that’s all you have to do while he wears his signature hat.

“Want a touch?”

He won’t act like he doesn’t see you staring, loving at his hair, looking like you wanted to get a feel—eyes lighting up whenever he goes to take off his hat. Tonight he feels tired, just wanting a little love from you after a tough workday. You, were already in bed as he came in, arms out waiting for him to hug you, which he couldn’t resist.

Feeling your arms around him, probably fixed the stiffness of his shoulders, as if you’re like a remedy to every problem he’s had.

 His scalp is killing him, won’t you help him out? Taking off the hat that sat perfectly on the top of his head and threw it to the side, one knee down on the bed, sinking the bed with the weight of his knee, before bending down; giving the go-ahead card to touch his hair.

It was just as soft as it looked to be, your soft fingers gently going through and touching his hair. He can see your eyes shine so brightly while playing with his hair as if he were a little doll.

Just the feeling of those pretty fingers makes him want to stay forever.

“Keep on going.”

💫𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈"

Rough and straw-like, are the only words you can use to describe his hair, you can tell he never takes care of it properly—always too busy going on missions, a quick shower—to get all that muck off and he’s gone out again, it’s truly a sad sight to see. A man with those illustrious locks of hair just to not be treated properly.

Even now with his hair wet and still filled with so many tangles, every time you try to move the hairbrush after fighting with a knot it just ends with another fight with another nasty knot, which makes him look back at you, biting his lip while pain looks in his eyes, as this wasn’t just the consequences of his actions. 

“Don’t look at me like that, you should brush your hair more often,” you groan after manually untangling the knot in his locks before arriving at the same problem again when you attempt to brush it again. “What am I going to do with you, blade,” sighing at the fact it’s been an hour of you doing this.

You hear his groans of pain while going through his hair, sectioning it pretty well. You can feel your hands go numb from all that fighting you had to do with his hair, but it was worth it since now his hair is silky smooth and smells like oranges, you can’t forget the little bows as well, and he’ll let put it on begrudgingly since you did all that work (and that you gaslit him about your pain).

“Like it? You’re so pretty now.”

“Tsk…”

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