#i love headcanons like this
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Got this in my head
So in dc gods can’t interact (or stoped interacting) with humanity so when the gods want to talk to Billy but give him headaches when it’s not one of his patrons, so they start possessing toys (or animals if they desperate idk) and now billy has a bunch of toys laying around bc the gods refuse to use the same another did.
This is such a fun headcanon!
The gods often have animals that are associated with them/sacred to them, so those are the ones that they might possess to talk to Billy. But because Billy lives in the middle of a city, most of those animals are very conspicuous so they avoid it. But whenever Billy goes to the zoo, he risks having to talk to one of the animals because a god had something to say to him. Often it's a small quest or errand that causes him more trouble than he rightly thinks is fair.
But the stuffed animal/toys? Yeah those are much easier for the gods to possess and less likely to cause people to gawk at them. i definitely agree that the gods are very picky (and possessive) about which toys they possess. They probably all try to pick something that represents them (a sacred animal or something) Billy has to take care of each one so none of the gods feel offended that their preferred toy is dirty or broken.
The first time someone (Freddy or maybe a JL hero) sees his huge collection of toys they just think its sweet that Billy can still be a kid and enjoy playing with toys. They are all well loved and practically form a shrine. They just think that he internalized Toy Story and wanted to take of all of them, but then Billy (not wanting to be thought of as a baby or childish) tells them "those are the vessels of the gods". Naturally they laugh about it but then like an hour later one of the dolls sits up on its own and speaks in a deep voice asking for Billy's help breaking a centuries old curse.
#ask me whatever you want y'all#shazam#billy batson#dc captain marvel#I love headcanons like this#Billy and the gods can have such a fun dynamic#this can even stretch to other pantheons and magical beings#He's one of the only people that they interact with and because of this he ends up with a lot of toys
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If she has no fans call the ambulance cause I am dead
#i love toxic yuri#for context i have no idea what ladypool looks like underneath the mask i havent read the comics#this is just my headcanon 🫶 i think she wears wigs like wade at the start of the movie#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool#ladypool#wolverine#wade wilson#logan howlett#poolverine#deadclaws#art#my art#fanart#digital art
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The girls are fightingggg in FNAF 2 movie
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanart#fnaf movie#abby schmidt#toy freddy#mike schmidt#guys I hope so bad the toys and Withereds have beef#I REMEMBER when fnaf 2 dropped that was like all the art around it#I LOVE THAT headcanon#I want these dudes to fight#make them petty#I know the next movie is gonna be more spooky scary#but least give me one crumb of this
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Suddenly, bell bottoms aren't so bad
Bonus sketch, because I had to vv
"Stop checking out my assistant, Stanley."
#Okay#I was never gonna draw fiddlestan#but then i was struck with inspiration in the form of bell bottom jeans#and was like.... get that twink into some bell bottoms RIGHT now#cole's art#art#gravity falls#grunkle stan#stanley pines#fiddleford mcgucket#fiddlestan#Steve Pinington? More like STAN Pining a ton#or something idk#what's this au called again?#uh idk#mystery trio#right?#the au where Stan shows up after Ford calls Fiddleford but before they test the portal y'know#where they live happily ever after and nothing ever goes wrong and stan and ford make up and stan and fiddleford make out#yeah#also the height difference lowkey goes crazy#it was unintentional but i actually like it a lot and now it's my headcanon#i love rambling in my tags knowing no one's reading ts 🙏#almost forgot to tag ford lol#stanford pines
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love you, love you, love you;
mr. crawling x reader
plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k
a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.
masterlist • ao3
Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.
Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.
And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.
Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).
So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.
You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.
Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.
You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.
You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…
That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.
That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.
So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.
You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.
The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.
Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.
Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.
It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.
Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.
Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.
“Close, close, close,” he repeated.
It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.
Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).
Words were never the problem, it seemed.
Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.
#homicipher#mr crawling#mr. crawling#homicipher fanfiction#homicipher x reader#homicipher x you#homicipher x mc#mr crawling x reader#mr crawling x you#mr crawling homicipher#homicipher headcanons#homicipher smut#mr crawling smut#homicipher mr crawling#yandere x reader#x reader fanfiction#cross posted on ao3#x you smut#x reader smut#xposted to ao3#i wrote this after a nap after playing the game for 4 hours straight and then i had this like dream about it#and i woke up ferally desiring mr crawling like it was insane#i wrote this with possessed and perhaps crazed love#i am very normal about fandoms thanks#yapping in tags again i see
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yknow i think their cloak should be a little stained actually. just a little.
#marshdoodles#isat#in stars and time#i mean come on. they sleep on grass regularly.#and you know his ass isn’t washing that cloak thoroughly enough to get grass stains out#the only reason why no one’s pointed it out is because everything’s in greyscale#anyways WOO sif color headcanons!! yipeee!!#i would’ve posted the greyscaled version but it’s not that exciting#these are all from like. a month ago. i just forgot to post them#i should really draw him more honestly i love coloring his clothes#the Gradience are fun to make
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In my headcanon, jason’s coin has to land heads to get the sword and tails to get the spear and just like a normal coin he has no control over which way it lands.
#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#jason grace#pjo headcanon#pjo fanart#Idk how to draw spears sorry#jason grace i love you#i love you jason grace#hehehe#percy jackson#i like to think of all the hijinks that ensue as he fails coin flip over and over again
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i lied theres no sex. were gonna sit down and watch supernatural while we analyze the way almost every character is queer coded especially dean
#supernatural#dean winchester#spn#destiel#castiel#deancas#sam winchester#theyre all queer because i said so#at this point it feels so wrong to call deans queerness a headcanon like it so soo heavily implied its literally canon#sam however......#and if i said a character who has always felt like they dont belong and something is inherently wrong with them is heavy queercoding......#like wow thats Queer Experience literally#ALSO U KNOW WHAT IM SOOOOOO UPSET ABOUT OMG#like i LOVE LOVE LOVE when in dean and cas live together and claire and kaia come over and hang out im gonna cryyyyy#and they sooo shouldve done that in the show#anyway a queer show (real) for queer people (debatable)
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i'm one hundred percent certain that after percy and annabeth made out underwater. and he wanted to make their relationship official. the question was not "will you be my girlfriend?" but "can i be your boyfriend?" i don't care what the canon says. percy gave annabeth the space to take the lead in the relationship. because after a lifetime of being abandoned by everyone she dared to care for. and then watching her on the brink of a panic attack at the thought of losing him the last four years. he wanted to honor a new beginning between them by follow her lead and moving at her pace.
#i will not accept another answer#(i'm easily persuaded)#i don't care what the canon says#(unless it was exactly this in which case that was good story writing)#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo text post#pjo#pjo headcanon#percy jackson#annabeth chase#percabeth#percabeth headcanon#percabeth fluff#percabeth cute#percabeth romantic#percabeth rant#but in all seriousness#he for sure did this#not bc annabeth is a controlling partner like percabeth-opposers claim she is#but bc she is a girl who experiences love the same way the moon feeds off the suns reflection#never knowing truth warmth#only it's echo#and percy intends to make her feel like she's his entire world#like she's the reason the sun shines so brightly#so fuck off
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i wasn't sure exactly what i thought adult gideon should be doing, but i DO quite like the triple combination of cowboy-biker, drag queen, and used car salesman at the same time. she's always a busy person!
#gravity falls#gideon gleeful#it's a way for him to still perform and sing and express himself!!!#i also just love trans girl gideon headcanon in general but this is almost sort of my middle ground here#i think anything is fun... drag queen... genderfluid... transedgender...#i'm still not sure how i wanna do his body type and height and stuff cus i like him both short and huge#but i think his voice should stay exactly the same like thurop#i'll probably come back to this another time and reput some of this info on my art blog#i'd like to either think of a pun with gloria or have that as well as a drag name#theo was thinking morning glory as a name she could use#isnt it cute both mabel and gideon have star motifs
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“no seriously who did you choose?”
“i chose you”
grover and percy are the platonic soulmates. in the most literal sense possible. i mean, literally nobody in the world, including their respective girlfriends, will ever know grover and percy as well as they know each other. and not just because of their empathy link.
grover was the person who was there for percy the most. he helped percy transition from the mortal world into the greek one. he supported percy in tlt when sally was thought to be dead. grover was percy’s first friend. ever. it’s not fair how people keep forgetting that. grover saved percy’s life.
percy literally did NOT hesitate to save grover when he was kidnapped by polyphemus. percy tried his hardest to be there for grover while grover fulfilled his dreams of finding pan. percy and grover travelled through most of the labyrinth together. grover is the foundation of percy’s best traits. percy saved grover’s life.
there is no other friendship in any of riordan’s books that can compare to grover and percy’s. they’re platonic soulmates. there’s no one like them.
#THEY MEAN SO MUCH RO ME PLEASE IM TEARING UP#IM CRYING. IM NOT OKAY.#im not okay#them.#no one can do it like percy and grover ngl#I CANR WAIT TO SEE THEM IN S2#aryan and walker are doing such a great job at portraying them#love them#grover and percy#percy and grover#pjo headcanon#pjo hoo toa#percy jackson#pjo#pjo fandom#pjo series#rrverse#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson fandom#heroes of olympus#walker scobell#aryan simhadri#the argo ii#the last olympian#platonic soulmates#platonic relationships#mali never shuts up
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Cherry flavoured troll
#no this is NOT omegaverse!!!#its my cute headcanon that trolls let out their blood's smell when they are really happy and in love#i like when they purr too#davekat#dave strider#karkat vantas#homestuck
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Wade doesn't realize how very, very, VERY task oriented Miguel is (and absolutely not jealous about Logan's claws size) ;P
#logan howlett#wade wilson#miguel o'hara#wolverine#deadpool#spiderman 2099#deadpool and wolverine#spiderverse#poolverang#poolverine#deadfang#pumpkin#pumpkins#jack o lantern#halloween#pumpkin carving#dumbass dick jokes#in my comics?#it's more likely than you think ;P#unless you want to make this sad again#then please accept headcanon that he's learned the pumpkin carving pro skills for Gabriela#because why would he do anything pointless and artisty otherwise#growing up in capitalistic dystopia hellscape and all (at least in comics#the movie nueva york actually looked much nicer? very syd mead inspired and I love it)
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Neat Freak
Steve’s parents don’t make him keep the house spotless. He really is just that clean and when Nancy tries to tell people there like “lol, sure” but she knows.
He’s a neat freak.
When she would stay over she would change into her pjs and make a small bundle of her day clothes on his desk chair, and steve would just. Fold them. Before getting in bed with her.
Doesn’t take long after for the others to realize it.
Robin thought it was just a guy thing, caring that much about their car. Scolding her for kicking her socked feet up on the dash, and leaving crumbs of toast when she had breakfast to go.
But then she visits his house the first time and Robin has never been good at using a coaster, too scatter brained to pay attention where she sets her drink down each time.
Steve, though? Without missing a beat he will move her glass to the coaster. Every time. Doesn’t even break his strike or pauses his conversation it’s just muscle memory by now.
The kids have had their will broken and no longer put up a fight.
Without being told to anymore, they toe off their shoes and hang their coat by the doorway. They don’t even do that in their own home. How Steve was able to get those wild animals house broken? No body knows.
His mom didn’t actually choose his room decor. It looks a bit barren but Steve likes it that way. It looks clean, easier to do so, too. Everything has its place tucked away from sight so it’s not an eye sore.
Even his plaid wallpaper and curtains he chose for himself. He spent all day finding the curtains that matched the closest and he was really proud of himself when found some.
“Steve, buddy, this looks mental.”
“But look,” (closest the curtains to show that even the pattern lines up seemlessly) “you almost can’t even see the difference between the wall and fabric. It’s like magic! It’s cool!” >:(
He’s very meticulous about his appearance. Dustin is absolutely flabbergasted when he sees his full hair routine for himself. Everything must be done a certain way in a certain order every time. It’s routine.
“Three puffs of the Farah Fawcett! THREE!”
“I DID THREE.”
“YEAH, BUT YOU DID THEM WRONG.”
When they discontinue it, Steve has a mini breakdown. He doesn’t like that his very specific and set routine has been broken. He’s convinced he’ll never find a hair spray to replace it. Everybody stocks up on cans of it to try and lower his anxiety.
He just loves cleaning, okay?
Ironing his kakis and polos until there are no wrinkles is so satisfying. Glass without finger smudges is so nice. His closet being organized by color is so efficient. When he’s worried, anxious, or angry he likes to keep his hands busy and it just calms him down going ham on a water stain in the bathroom.
When he hangs out at Eddie’s, he mindlessly starts picking things up here and there. It’s like heaven for him. He sees a mess and just wants to go to town. Eddie doesn’t mind as long as he knows where everything is in the end. He’ll admit that having his music organized alphabetically is pretty convenient.
It’s also a little funny to watch Steve iron his ripped jeans and battle jacket with an iron he brought from home.
“You’re a freak, Harrington.” Eddie has a shit eating grin. Steve flips him off.
“Fuck off.”
#steddie#steddie headcanon#steddie prompt#steve harrington prompt#steve harrington headcanon#neat freak steve harrington#anyone else like cleaning?#I love organizing stuff by color#it’s calming#bee speaks#steve harrington#platonic stobin#stobin headcanon#pre stancy#stancy#pre steddie#babysitter steve harrington
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I present some nerdy prudes (oh and Max)
(I really wanted to take a shot at giving them all more than 1-3ish outfits that I think fit their styles)
#I love all of the disabled richie headcanons dearly#max basically looks the same cause I can only picture him in like three basic white boy high school fits 😭#also it’s frustratingly hard trying to draw characters played by the same actor when I try to stay accurate to actors’ features#hachetfield#hachetverse#starkid#nerdy prudes must die#npmd#richie lipschitz#max jagerman#grace chasity#ruth fleming#stephanie lauter#peter spankoffski#art i made#image description in alt
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tbh jaded lawyer darling trying to save yan crime kingpin from getting his ass thrown into prison for life — yet again.
he’s lingering at the court’s steps, entertaining the news reporters with a dazzling smile, the entire world waiting with bated breath to see whether this is the day his billion dollar criminal empire comes crumbling down—
“the whole world knows you did it!”
“are you ashamed of yourself?”
“do you really think you’ll walk away a free man after today?”
that gets his attention.
“darling, don’t ‘ya worry about me,” he turns to the journalist, and tilts his head to the side, pulling out his lollipop from between those lips, curled in a sly grin. “i ain’t gotta worry ‘bout no fuckin’ laws when i got the world’s best damn lawyer on my side.”
a young man, then. thick glasses and braces on his teeth. far too thin and lanky, for all his balls of steel as he speaks up. “are you implying that your lawyer is an accessory to your crimes? a corrupt lawyer for a guilty man on his way to the gallows?”
he hears you approach before he can think to respond. the familiar, expensive echo of the dress shoes he’d bought you the first time you’d won a case, before you’re there where he thinks you belong; right by his side.
“alleged crimes,” you correct, and your kingpin turns to greet you with a million dollar smile. “now, my client will not be taking any more questions. kindly, fuck off.”
cameras flash instantly and countless more mics are shoved into his pretty face, still mesmerised by you, even when you grab him by the back of his collar (unironed, you notice with absolute dismay) and pull him inside, away from prying eyes.
“you’re being tried for sixteen drug and weapons counts,” you hiss, digging your newly manicured nails into his skin, as you pull the lollipop he’s sucking on right out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and toss it to the side, seething. “when will you fucking get serious!”
he only dumbly stares back at you with a slack jaw, and stars in his eyes. his voice dips an octave lower, deep in his throat when he speaks. “oh, i could get very serious if you wanted to give me a kiss. or, y’know, maybe you could act as a replacement to that sweet lollipop of mine ‘ya just—oh, fuck!”
when you stride into the courtroom later, in your neat, pressed suit and slicked back hair, nobody dares ask why the infamous ‘alleged’ crime lord is following after you with a bruise blossoming on cheeks that flush a deep, deep scarlet.
-
the judge announces the jury's verdict, and you don’t even look up from the documents you’re perusing when he’s found ‘not guilty’ in a court of law, yet again—
“jesus fuckin’ christ, i knew you were gonna save me!” your kingpin jumps up from where he’s sitting besides you, pressing his face into your shoulder as he breathes you in with an elated, shuddering breath. “can’t even imagine which ditch i’d be rottin’ in without ‘ya, sweet pea.”
“excuse me, sir.” you pry his hands off you with a detached air of reservation you reserve for when the two of you are in public, but the way your knuckles are white when you gather the countless files and papers of yours scattered on your desk tell him everything he needs to know about how pissed you are. “hands off.”
he knows he’s in for it when the two of you get home, and yet, he looks forward to the sight.
it’s always more… exciting than it should be; when you’ve got him shoved right up against a well, going off about how ‘irresponsible’ and ‘immature’ he is, nails leaving his skin bleeding from how deep you sink them into his body, too caught up in your own irritation to notice or, honestly, care.
and maybe, he thinks, as he follows you out, tonight he’ll go pay a visit to someone after you’re done with him.
a man’s got needs, y’know?
he’s high off the rush of his latest win when he walks up the porch steps hours later. it's really only the latest achievement in a long line he attributes solely to you and your efforts.
he’ll make sure to repay you one day, with all you’ve done for him. he’ll take such good care of you; let you do whatever you wanted to him, as a token of his appreciation for how hard you've worked to keep him on the streets he rules and out of the prisons he knows he belongs in.
in fact, his efforts start right here and right now; on the steps of a nice, suburban house, that belongs to the journalist with thick glasses and braces and a wiry frame. the white picket fence and 'keep off the grass' sign do little to deter the man outside. then again, the poor bastard could have had gates of iron, and he still would have found a way to creep inside.
he never knew being a journalist paid so well. shit, maybe he should’ve gone down this path instead of, y’know, running a criminal empire. this bastard's got balls of steel, for what he had the nerve to say about you. but it’s okay! hey! he’s here to take care of it for you!
you don’t ever need to find out what he’s done in your name. ♡
he’s very adamant about this, choosing to see the job to completion all alone, slinking away from your critical, watchful gaze—only once he’s made sure you’re knocked out by watching you sleep, crouched by your bedside, for a few hours—to make sure the problem’s all taken care of.
the kingpin rings the doorbell, and patiently waits for the door to open with his scarred hands held behind his back. there’s a glock in his left back pocket, and a silencer in the right. a swiss army knife curled in his fingers, because he’s always been creative.
yeah, can you believe that? his teachers used to tell him he would make a great artist one day. and he is, he likes to think. only that his canvases are a little less traditional, and not in the banksy way. you know how it is! life imitates art... or some hippie shit like that.
there's no rules in art for what you can paint with, right? or what surfaces you can carve up into pretty shapes...
and so, when the lock clicks open, and the handle turns, it’s exactly like he said; a man’s got needs!
so sue him! really, so what if his needs mean his heavy hands are clamping over the journalist’s mouth, twisted into a silent scream—
so what if he knocks the smaller man back, a fist flying to his face, those wide eyes and all, slack jaw stupidly hanging open in disbelief—
so what if he shoves him inside and kicks the door behind them shut?
your kingpin knows what comes with the life he chose, and sullying his name is one thing—but nobody gets to drag your name through the dirt and live.
he makes sure of that, personally.
-
“where did you go last night?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the weekly newspaper in your hands. there, on the front page, a greyscale photo of you and your headache of a client, descending the court’s steps after the verdict. “and why didn’t you ask for my permission before you left?”
the headline, in big, bold letters, splashed above the picture; INTERNATIONAL OUTRAGE AS INFAMOUS DRUG LORD EVADES LAW YET AGAIN. SHADY LAWYER TO BLAME?
“just takin’ out the trash, lovely. don’t you worry ‘yer pretty little mind about it.” as he says that, he abandons his own breakfast, suddenly snatching the paper out of your hands and ripping it up, but not before noting the name of the article’s author, tucking it away for later.
shreds of the weekly paper you hadn't even gotten to read yet fall to the floor, fluttering this way and that. you close your eyes and smile. “haha. funny. well, my ‘pretty little mind’ is telling me to throw the coffee in my hands all over you.”
“tryna mark me up?” he purrs, “if you really wanna wake me up, can i suggest somethin’ else ‘ya could throw at me? or on me, really. but—”
“i’m going to kill you in your sleep, one of these days.” you deadpan, turning back to your food. he’s like a little kid, and you’re not about to indulge him by giving him the attention he so desperately wants from you.
“'yer serious??" he grins, hands flying to his face in elation, a curious blush colouring his skin a deep pink. “you mean you actually wanna step into my bedroom— at night— of 'yer own damn will?“
you take another sip of your coffee, fingers trembling around the cup. don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what—
“damn... guess i should start sleeping naked, then.”
extra; what if darling was a prosecutor instead?
#ahhh help me i have the opposite of writer's block i'm writing too much help help#blacked out and came to and this was just written out in 30 minutes help I DONT LIKE THIS#tw yandere#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#obsessive yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere! x reader#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere x darling#yandere scenarios#obsessive love#yandere aesthetic#yandere drabble#male yandere#yandere male#yandere male x reader#male yandere x reader
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