#why are my favourite characters always dead

[fayes-fics]

The Wonderful Unexpected: Chapter 1

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Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU (future chapters)

Chapter Summary: it’s Christmas, but it’s beginning to look a lot like a shitshow…

artwork by me

Warnings: None really... swearing and non-graphic character attack and injury.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: Welcome to Chapter 1 of my next multi-chapter! A modern rom-com based on While You Were Sleeping. This is really just getting the wheels in motion, where she encounters Anthony. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis. Thank you to @colettebronte for beta reading. Please enjoy! <3

The first time you see him, your heart almost stops.

It is a Monday morning, your first shift in your new job at a coffee shop on a dreary day in late October, when he sweeps in, a blur of athletic movement in a sharply tailored suit. 

Your boss, the store manager, Gen, starts to make his drink, double espresso, without him even having to say a word. And seemingly, just like that, he is gone again, you standing there, stupefied, awkwardly clutching the milk-frothing pitcher.

And thus, it begins. 

Every weekday between 8:01 and 8:15, Prince Charming glides in, grabs his cup and is gone—a beautiful mirage with amazing cheekbones and a watch that costs more than your annual rent. It's like your world goes into slow motion, and, to steal a phrase from your dearly departed Dad’s favourite song, birds suddenly appear every time he is near. 

Anyway, one random, soggy Thursday, the fates intervene, and it's your turn to serve him. As soon as you see him striding purposely towards the shop, you start his drink, butterflies in your stomach. The smile he bestows upon you is dazzling… even if his attention is slightly diverted by the call he is on. 

Sparks shoot up your arm and into your chest as your fingers brush his briefly as you hand over the small cup.

Surely, this is meant to be? 

He is perfect. Your husband (he just doesn't realise it yet).

All you need is a way to introduce yourself…

—

It's the end of your shift three days before Christmas when Gen sidles up to you, an odd expression on her face.

“I’d like to recommend you for Employee of the Month.” 

“Didn't know there was one,” you shrug, having no idea what that could mean. You suspect not a great deal. Barista is no one’s chosen career. This is very much what you hope is a pit stop on your way to better things. A way to pay the rent until you get your big break. Or get to go travelling.

“Oh yes, well, it's been a few weeks now, and really, you’re my best employee. You are never late, always reliable, never get an order wrong, and are friendly to all the customers…” She trails off, looking very sheepish. “And if you are willing to work Christmas Day… ”

“Christmas Day!? Why are we even open on Christmas Day anyway? It’ll be dead, even around here,” you frown, putting down the cloth you were wiping the counter with.

“Owner policy,” she shrugs. “It's only for four hours in the morning - 7 til 11. If you do, it’s quadruple pay...” she lilts, attempting to make it sound appealing.

You squirm uncomfortably, not wanting to let her down but also really not wanting to work on that day. You were looking forward to a duvet and Netflix day with the second most handsome creature in the world (and definitely the most loyal), Chairman Meow.

“Look,” Gen petitions softly. “Prue still has bronchitis. Edie can't switch because she's got some big trip to see her cousins, and l promised my kiddos that I'd be there for them this year… l know it isn't fair, and I can't force you to do it... but you mentioned you are single and your parents are gone. You're the only one…” she trails off, looking awkward.

“...Without family…” you supply glumly, already knowing you will capitulate. At least quadruple pay will come in handy.

—

You are struggling to haul your Aunt Hilda’s Christmas ‘gift’ - a frighteningly enormous box you can tell is choked full of ugly breakables - up the stairs after a long shift when he materialises as he always seems to, just when it is most inconvenient.

Not your prince. No. Sadly not.

Albion “Alby” Finch. 

Yep, quite the name. Not one anyone could live up to. But perhaps particularly not him. The well-meaning owner of the building who lives in the ground floor flat. Still adjusting to his status as a landlord since his father passed last year, he is boundlessly friendly in that untrained puppy way. Always wanting to help but always somehow ending up more of a hindrance than anything. 

“Oh y/n, that looks tricky; allow me!”

He pushes his glasses up his nose with a pointer finger, then immediately lunges forward and grabs the other side of the heavy box without asking first.

“No, wait….!” 

But it's too late.

You had the box precariously balanced, holding it strategically over the poorly taped seams. But his sudden interference has disturbed the contents. You watch as he realises he was wholly unprepared for its weight; his face fleetingly takes on a look of respect that you were handling such a burden.

Time slows like molasses as it slips from his grip, a horrible crunching sound as it hits the step, losing much of its structural integrity in the impact. Then, a calamitous symphony as it tumbles almost poetically down the whole flight, picking up speed as it goes. Yet again, the world is in slo-mo, but not in a good way this time, watching its barrelling path with increasing dread. Both of you wince as the inevitable happens: the spindly legs of the Alby’s heirloom table in the hallway snapping under the duress of poorly packaged terminal velocity porcelain. 

“I'm so, so sorry!” he starts, flustering like a bird. “It’s all my fault; I’ll pay for it,” he assures.

“Alby…” you sigh, head slumping back in resignation, staring at the ceiling. You can't be too mad; he has sort of done you a favour, saving you the inevitable trip to the charity shop.

“What can I do to make amends?” He presses on. “May I take you to dinner?”

You are almost shocked that he has finally summoned the courage to ask you out after two years. When you tilt your chin back down, you see the panic rising on his face as he belatedly realises what he did.

“You are my landlord. Probably not a good idea,” you return diplomatically, trying to let him down easily. He is a nice man, and his admiration for cheese is to be respected, but you know you could never see him as anything but a sweet, slightly clueless friend.

“Right-e-o,” he nods, cheeks reddened. “Of course. So rude. Please forgive me.”

You wave a dismissive hand, staring down at the pile of destruction below, dreading the thought of cleaning up.

“I’ll deal with all that up,” Alby gestures, tracking your line of sight.

And for once, rather than help as you inevitably always do, you agree, your feet throbbing after a long day where it seemed every teenager in zone 1 needed a matcha oat latte.

So, as you tumble into your flat, you sigh in relief, flinging off your shoes and pouring a glass of water for yourself and a saucer of cat milk. You may not have your Prince Charming (yet…?), but you have Chairman Meow, who always makes a genuinely excellent fluffy pillow for your favourite brainless binge-watch. 

—

It’s as if there is lead in your socks as you shuffle down the pavement and roll up the shutters. 

Christmas Day. 6:54am.

Still an hour until sunrise, it's misty and rainy, but then that's typical London, really.

What isn't typical London is the deserted streets. Hardly a soul to be seen, only the very occasional car. Most people are tucked up in bed or, if they are parents, blearily watching their kids tear wrapping paper asunder in pursuit of loud plastic.

When an hour has already passed without a single customer, you are entering a new level of boredom. Inventing new lyrics for the Christmas music playing, balancing stirring sticks into a pagoda-like structure of impressive resilience (it can hold a cup!), cursing the owner who even thought it was a good idea to be open today. It's all a recipe for a sort of irksome ennui.

So when you hear a commotion outside, you almost fall off the stool you have been idly twirling on. Springing from your perch, you run to the glass window, keen for any distraction.

But the sight that greets you has your heart in your throat.

There, in the street, surrounded by a gang of kids in oversized hoodies, is your man. Prince Charming. They are tussling with him, and you realise they are likely trying to mug him of his expensive watch. 

You observe helplessly, too scared to confront them, worried that doing so might exacerbate the situation. As you fumble in your apron pocket for your phone, the kids disperse, and to your horror, you see your man lying in the road, worryingly still. 

Before you are even conscious of it, instead of dialling 999, you are flinging open the shop door and sprinting towards him. 

“Sir! Sir!” 

Skidding to a halt and hovering over him, you can see an ugly bruise forming on his left temple already. They must have knocked him out.

“Sir! Please wake up!!”

But there is no response. 

You fall to your knees next to him, tapping his cheek lightly with the back of your hand, a sense of dread filling you with every passing millisecond.

Cmon universe! You can't do this! Why can't you take out the ugly ones?! Kidding... Sort of. 

As your completely inappropriate internal monologue rages, you grab his shoulders and shake him gently, needing him to get up. Get out of the road, at least.

“Sir! Please! You are lying in the road! Please get up!”

You know it's Christmas Day, so traffic is thankfully light. However, if a bus comes around this blind corner, it will hit you both before it sees you.

Again, nothing from him.

You bend down to place your ear next to his nose and mouth, heart pounding, to see if you can hear breathing, at least. 

“Fuck, you smell so good!”

It's out of your mouth before you can censor it, not that anyone is within earshot, this unconscious beauty aside. Your nostrils are filled with expensive, no doubt custom-blended aftershave, which literally makes your mouth water. You have to tamp the sudden urge to bury your face into his neck and inhale deeply.

But then you hear the hiss of air brakes and know a large vehicle is approaching—it could be a bus, could be a lorry. Either way, you are not exactly going to stay here to find out.

Without knowing quite what possesses you, you limpet yourself around his prone body and literally log-roll him out of the road. A blur of frantic tumbling movement that only ceases when your knees encounter the rough stipples of the pedestrian crossing section of the pavement. Shocking even yourself with the strength you are able to muster.

It's incredible what reserves of power you can summon when Prince Charming’s life is on the line, apparently.

As you lay straddled awkwardly on top of him, a street-sweeping lorry barrels around the corner, right over where he was lying. Sweeping up what you suspect was his mobile phone in the process before you could even grab it for him.

Heart racing at the closeness of the call, you collapse on top of him, breathing hard. Trying desperately to ignore the stirring of your traitorous libido at the sensation of muscular thighs clenched between your own. 

His eyes flutter open, and you murmur a breathless “hi,” almost losing yourself in their depthless, warm beauty. That is before they roll backwards, and his head slumps to the left.

Just great.

As Michael Buble might sing at this particular moment…  ♫ It's beginning to look a lot like a shitshow. ♫

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[roys-our-boy]

HELP???

Sorry Gaku “I’m swimming” panel I have a new favourite gonna post it too anyway because I’m obsessed with it still

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Hey there could I request G!P professor!nat x shy!quiet!reader where reader goes to the school dance alone and feels like a loser for not having the balls to talk or join in with other people but then nat decides to keep her company because she can’t stand seeing her favorite student all pathetic just standing there like a lost puppy and then they sneak off to do “other” stuff

Favourite

Paring: fem!reader x prof!Nat

Warnings: SMUT, amab!Nat, top!Nat, bottom!reader, age gap (legal), taboo relationship, soft sex, p in v, brief oral, soft!Nat, virgin!reader, gentlewoman!Nat

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

A/N: I’m not dead yet and more active noe

I had always thought in college things would change for girls like me, the quiet ones, with a few friends, who you would only talk to to copy their homework. However it stayed that way or at least for me. I had found my small group of friends but I was far from well socialised in my college. But I wasn’t complaining about it either after all it left more time to study.

Most of the lessons I attended were boring except for one: Russians literature with Professors Romanoff, a tall, athletic woman, with red hair and the greenest eyes you had ever seen. You didn’t mind her talking for hours about poems and novels and what we were supposed to think of them. However you couldn’t care less about the words leaving her mouth when you’re eyes were only fixated on her lips.

Eventually more of the semester passed and soon it was time for the annual ball. Because of your low social status you didn’t even try to find a date opting on going alone instead, it wouldn’t be that bad right?

Once there you where alone, the few friends which you had didn’t bother to attend so you stood alone at the side of the large room your eyes fixated on the ground. You should just go, you thought to yourself. “Good evening, Y/N” you heard the familiar husky voice next to you. You looked up only to be greeted by your smirking professor. She looked gorgeous having picked out a matching suit to her eyes.

“Hi, Ms. Romanoff” she leaned against the wall next to me her eyes darting over my smaller body. “Where’s your date?” “I don’t have one” I answered truthfully, her expression stayed the same it was hard to read her. “And you’re friends?” I sighed she knew the answer to that already. “They didn’t attend.” She chuckled licking her lips like a predator who just found it’s helpless prey. “Poor girl, all alone and needs her professor to keep her company”

I let out a small laugh which sounded incredibly fake. Her words made my cheeks heat and I didn’t even know why. “Could be worse” I looked up in her eyes again “You’re a very pleasant conversation partner” “Am I?” She chuckled “That means a lot to me, hearing my favorite student say something like that” “I’m your favorite?” you stammered out “Trust me bunny a girl like you” Her hand trailed to my hip “You hardly get something like that every ten years. I’m very happy to have you”

Her words made my heart flutter and my head turn. I was special, Romanoff’s girl. “Do you mean that?” My voice was still a bit shaky. “Of course I do. We should go somewhere more private” I nodded her hand intertwined with mine she pulled me with her through the masses into the parking lot. Once seated in her expensive looking her hand never left my thigh before she started the car she leaned over to me our lips inches apart I tried to lean forward but her hands pushed my shoulder back against the car seat.

“Don’t do this to make me happy” She paused her eyes looking sensire “It won’t affect your grade no matter how you decide.” “I want this”

I breathed out our lips immediately finding each other. The kiss was passionate and heated until Nat pulled away to fasten my seat belt.

“I’ll drive to my apartment” She put her own seatbelt on “Is that okay with you or do you want to go to your dorm” “I’d like to join your tonight” Natasha gave you a cheeky grin at the response her plan had worked out perfectly.

Arriving at her apartment she seated you on her leather couch. She paced around her living room having two wine glasses in hand. “Do you want a glass?” I laughed I was extremely nervous but in a good way “Oh, I don’t drink but I’ll have a water instead” She just nodded accepting my preferences.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met” She laughed slipping away from her wine glass. “And I’m not just saying that because of the wine.” She added she was sat next to her hand on your thigh. She had long forgotten about her crumpled up suit jacket on the ground though she normally was so precise about keeping everything organized.

“You don’t look bad either” You laughed she pulled you on her lap forcing you to but your legs on either side her crotch on yours. “Let me kiss you” she mumbled against you wet lips. You lips were pressed together so where your bodies and you could feel a bulge poking you. “Fuck you make me so hard” she breathed out on your lips making you moan out in response.

We were caught in the dance of our tongues when I felt her standing up her arms under my ass supporting my weight. I giggle and tighten my grip around her. “Let me take you to the bedroom”

She laid me out on the bed being careful with every item removed and making sure I was comfortable. She kissed everything inch of my skin paying extra attention to my sweet spots and I never felt so loved before. “Have you done that before” She breathed put against my skin.

“Never” I answer truthfully and suddenly I felt a dang of jealousy in my chest. “Is that- a problem?” My professor moved up again before kissing me “Of course not” She looked me in the eyes with her green eyes. “Will you let me be your first” She was being incredibly cheesy but Iiked that. It made me feel safe. “Yes”

She took one of my nipples in her mouth twisting and turning the other with her trained fingertips. She made me putty in her hands with each lick or flick she brought a new sound from my tongue.

My back arched which only made her increase the speed of her movements. After she seemed it to be enough foreplay she kissed her way down to my pubic bone, pressing her nose against my skin to take in the smell of my sweet arrausel. “Can I bunny?” She smirked and kissed your clit I was already wet but Nat was dying for a taste. She flicked her tongue over my now exposed bud. The pleasure was incredible better than any other toy I ever had and you tried to not lose my mind as she teased you bundle of nerves.

She pulled away shortly after ripping away my release in front of my eyes. I looked at her confused as she was already freeing herself from her boxer. She didn’t have a size to be ashamed of and her bush was well groomed too, like you would’ve suspected. She pumped herself a few times groaning until she was fully hard a little droplet of cum on the redden tip.

“Wait I’ll put a condom on” She reached for the drawer but you stopped her “I’m on the pill” Her lips formed a smirk as she positioned herself between my legs. “It’s not gonna hurt sweetheart” She reassured you kissing my neck.

She pushed inside and I making me scratch down her toned back making her whimper. Fuck her whimpers where hot. She bottomed me out looking down at where our bodies were connected she smiled up at you and you smiled back and after I nodded to her she picked up pace.

She was slow at first making me want more you could tell she being careful with you. “Faster” I moaned out making you hips buckle into her trusts. She moaned like a pornstar panting above me as she increased her speed the bed creaking. She made my back arch and my eyes squeezed shut as I released my quiet prayers for her.

“You close?” She panted and I nod “Fuck, your so tight” I grabbed on her shoulders scratching down as I came all over her shortly after she filled me up too. She pulled out the cum leaking down my legs. She climbed up my body flipping us over so I lay on her chest.

“You’re my favourite” She whispered and kissed my sweaty forehead

:)

[vigilskeep]

hey harker! very much enjoying the lucanis/illario/general crow posting, and im gonna encourage more: now that you’ve had some time to sit with the game i was really curious to hear more about your opinion on lucanis becoming first talon. i can’t help but feel like it’s completely glossed over that lucanis is definitely going to get chewed up by this job in most save states. i have mixed feelings about it personally - but setting those aside because i’m asking about yours.

i TRULY cannot express this enough: that villa is a tomb and if we do not get him out of there we are burying him in it

lucanis does not want this job. he has straight up canonically always avoided thinking about this by assuming he would die before it becomes something he has to deal with. he reacts with paralysed disbelief to being given it and seems to have barely registered it for the rest of the game. and even if he did want it, lucanis is not capable of this job. none of his skillsets are managing people, or making ruthless calls, or watching out for himself. the only driving force behind him being pushed into this is caterina, who will not be around to do the admin and protect him from external threats forever. and she only wants him to do it in the first place because she had a good heir—his mother—and has needed to project that dead daughter onto lucanis for his whole life, to believe she hasn’t already gambled and irrevocably lost her family’s future decades ago. but lucanis’ incapacity to ever say no to her, which is what lets him stay that eternal teacher’s pet, is one of the most obvious shining examples why he would be so bad for the job!

it would be an uphill battle for anyone to recover control of an assassin house that until last week was being run by your cousin who tried to kill you. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to lead the crows in the aftermath of the antaam occupation. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to cope with the fact that relying on viago and teia—which lucanis with his resources and skills has no choice but to do here, even if he didn’t simply like them and make choices based on liking people because he is not a strategist—presents them as an alliance that any other ambitious talon must cut down to get anywhere. three out of eight of the talons is such a ludicrously dangerous number. it does not take an overwhelmingly brilliant mind to notice that there’s more of us than there are of them

the best man for the job would still be fighting for their life, and lucanis is far from the best man. caterina was! and she still lost five children and six grandchildren holding it! that’s so many! have you guys ever seen that one post about people who kept getting a new outdoor cat every time the last one got eaten by cougars and it was pointed out they were basically just feeding cats to the cougars. that’s what caterina dellamorte was doing having kids

the points in lucanis’ favour off the top of my head are the weight of the dellamorte name and reputation, that his victory over illario was decisive and public, and simply the fear factor that he is a god slayer and, lest we forget, a fucking abomination. is that enough to keep him alive? for how long? under what level of constant anxiety and moral degradation for his very soft over-caffeinated heart? all for the questionable gain of several large and empty villas and the privilege of dragging out the slow and lingering death of a family that, you guessed it, you love it, it’s the thedas favourite: has no! next! generation! heirs! at all!!!

(unless illario has a bunch of kids somewhere. i think that would be objectively pretty funny, a sentence i managed to type most of before feeling ill. oh god we need to get them out.)

i apologise that my tone here is somewhat hysterical but i have been living in the mind of my rook, a character very aware of the realities of crow politics who loves lucanis very much. it does not surprise me that lucanis was once again incapable of even conceptualising saying no to his grandmother and accepted the title, or that the idea of abandoning her legacy and his family would seem insurmountable to him when he has been raised to believe it’s all he’s for and he is the last one shouldering the weight. but i am saying this with total and absolute confidence: this is another prison and he is going to die in there if nobody gets him out.

[itgirl-111]

OFFENSIVELY ATTRACTIVE VAUNT

Why do I have to be so offensively attractive? Everything about me from top to toe is perfection. You've never seen a face as pretty and flawless as mine. No cause why do I have to look this hot? I'm fr the hottest girl on the planet. Everything about me from top to toe is pure perfection, my individual features are perfect and flawless but when they come together they are so harmonious? Like everything just fits my face so fucking perfectly like it's meant to be there. Every inch of my face and body is gorgeous and flawless. I am a walking masterpiece, I'm a work of art. Everyone is obsessed with me the first time they see me, I am so drop dead gorgeous that people literally double take and gasp once they lay their eyes on me. I mean, I'm always the center of attention because why wouldn't I be? I high key give off real main character vibes, it's like I straight up walked out of an anime. It's near impossible for someone to look this humanely beautiful but I do because I'm just too damn stunning. I literally take everyone's breath away. I am so offensively attractive, people find it difficult to not look at me, I swear all eyes turn only to me because I'm literally the most beautiful ever. It's only once in a blue moon that you'd get a chance to see a person as attractive as I am, Im once in a lifetime afterall. I get complimented every single day, I hear everyone call me beautiful more than my own name. I am too painfully attractive, it's indescribable. I'm the typa girl who you see once and never forget. I literally got everyone feeling some type of way they never felt before. I am literally so utterly mesmerizing. I got everyone simping for me fr. I'd be literally breathing and everyone would be down bad for me, Literally down bad. I got universal sex appeal, meaning everyone regardless of sexuality is down bad for me . I am so sexy people genuinely cannot get over it and everyday I just get 100x trillion times hotter. I am just sooo damn fine like I've got too pretty of a face and even more powerful vibe. I believe in my supremacy fr. Sometimes it's just so hard to grasp the fact that a person as attractive as I, is living on the same planet as everyone else, everyone is damn lucky to be born in the same generation as I am. It's ridiculous how many simps I have, like damn I really got everyone down bad for me huh. I am the pinnacle of God tier beauty and charisma.

There's something about my vibe which is just so uniquely mine, like my vibe and energy is so one of a kind, everyone can feel my vibe even before I walk into the room. I give off an expensive, powerful, hot girl vibe who straight up walked out of an anime I swear lol. My energy is way too magnetic and irresistible, it speaks volumes. My presence is literally out of this world. The way I carry myself, the way I talk, the way I do things, the way I think, the way I look, my energy, my mannerisms, my habits, all of it is way too unique to be replicated. Everyone wanna study me like their favourite subject. It's impossible to mistake me for another one, I stand out and outshine literally everyone with my beauty, charisma, and interesting personality. The fact that it comes to me so naturally and effortlessly? Even better. I've got such amazing wit and humour, I'm so personable that people genuinely love to be around me even though I may seem intimidating at first. I always know how to spark interesting and amazing conversations, I know when to speak and be quiet, I got that perfect balance between loud and quiet confidence. My intelligence and the way I keep learning new things so easily? Even hotter!. I am an ICON. My energy is actually so magnetic, I have that little something, that is just so insanely attractive and captivating that it cannot be described in words, only felt. I truly believe in my own supremacy.

[endursent]

Hi Ma’am! I’ve recently come across your “my partner turned into a cat” series and it’s wonderful. I was wondering if I could request something similar where reader turns into their partner’s favourite animal? Preferably with Kaveh, Neuvi, and Dottore (if you write for him). If not, that’s all good. Have a nice day!

【 content; established relationship , humour , gn!reader , temporarily turned animal (reader) 】

【 characters; il dottore, kaveh , neuvillette 】

【 note; i haven't actually written for dottore before strangely enough considering how much i love him, so it might take a while for me to get his personality and mannerisms down... thank you for the ask! 】

【 word count; 1.454 | masterlist 】

Il Dottore;

Never had you considered what his “favourite animal” is, mostly because you’re convinced Dottore doesn’t have a “favourite” anything—his interests are too unpredictable and subject to change at any moment. 

  Though you should have seen it coming that one day, his experimentation would strike you—thankfully you’re not dead, you’re luckier than some assistants that have been zapped a time or two and carried out in body bags. However…

  Why are you a fat little platypus, and why does he seem so excited about it?

  You look absolutely ridiculous, you imagine—and feel, having four legs and a beak is peak body horror that is unfortunately eating at your brain right now. And yet, Dottore picks you up like one would a cat and dangles you in front of him with both an excited and thoughtful expression. “How unexpected—and interesting. I made little change to the formula…” he plops you down on the table next to the damned formula he had been adjusting… never will you inhale “experiment fumes” again. Not that you’re supposed to be doing so in any case.

  “A fascinating specimen indeed,” he pokes around your fur and you shake yourself, but he is relentless with his prodding! “One of the few mammals capable of electroreception! I wonder if you've maintained those sensory capabilities... This requires immediate testing."

  He doesn’t leave you alone for a single second that you’re like this, always either checking something—one time you were freaking out about the fact that you had no idea how to eat or drink like this… and Dottore took out a notebook and tried to get you to bite his fingers to “test the venom”... you bite a bit harder than he likely bargained for. 

  Dottore does try to “help” in his own way, while he brainstorms how to turn you back, he creates a “suitable habitat” with burrowing zones and a “pool”. He means well, but he’s also using it to observe you like a specimen so you kick up dirt and splash water on the floor and tables in spite.

  Out of anyone, Dottore is the fastest to get you back to normal… or he could, if he wanted to. But he kind of likes seeing you waddle around trying to walk with webbed feet and seeing you knock your tail into things and make weird noises. He has plenty of experience pressing your buttons and what makes you tick as a human, why not enjoy a new side of you?

Kaveh;

He’s more traumatised than you are when one moment you’re standing next to him—and the next there’s a random ass deer there. He looks around and searches for you frantically, thinking you might have fallen into a creek or rolled downhill… very unaware of that same deer following him around and trying to get his attention. 

  He does love deer, he thinks you’re unimaginably cute but also kind of silly in the way horses are silly but not huge and terrifying. 

  Kaveh almost needs you to headbutt him for him to realise that you are, in fact, in front of him and not soaking around in a nearby river hanging out with the frogs. Thankfully, he’s smart enough to put two and two together after he snaps out of it—but now he’s just confused.

  How? You had just been right there! There wasn’t even a rustle of leaves or anything!

  In any case, he needs to get you back to the city… you walk like a human in a deer suit, unused to the long four legs and strange join positions—and as soon as you enter his and Alhaitham’s home (after getting your antlers caught in the door like an idiot if you have those) you suddenly stop. 

  “What is it?” Kaveh peeps from behind you, confused as to why your ass is just standing in the doorway.

  The house has hardwood floors.

  He doesn’t realise this, of course, and gives your behind a firm push—only for you to slip and slide and nearly tumble inside like a freshly born animal. Kaveh rushes in behind you, apologising for nearly knocking you over and trying to make sure you don’t fall against anything and break things… Alhaitham would never let him live it down if he saw this.

  It’s not exactly easy to… navigate this, you’re not a small animal nor are you yourself particularly knowledgeable about your new proportions. 

  He can barely stop himself from continuously stroking your fur and feeding you crunchy things to be able to watch you munch on them. It does kind of kill the fascination he had with deer, as he’s never really interacted with them so closely until you happened to become one.

  You follow him around like a lost puppy, even as he had a very important client meeting—you didn’t let him get away… and thus, Kaveh had to improvise a bit. 

  The client, an older woman, squints at you standing slightly behind Kaveh and trying to munch on the blueprints in his hands (you haven’t had food for two hours, which is disastrous with this huge stomach you have now). 

  Kaveh clears his throat, pushing your snout away. “Yes, we can change the—no, you see, this is… yes, it’s okay, this is just… a friend.”

  He has no idea how to explain this so he just chooses not to. “Anyway… about that garden idea, if we put a patio by this side—”

Neuvillette;

You can’t believe he’s keeping you in a bowl. 

  Somehow, and for some reason, when you had accompanied Neuvillette for an evening walk along the seaside just outside of Fontaine’s walls—you had stubbed your toe on a shell that stuck out of the ground, and with a sudden zap… you had turned into a blob.

  Neuvillette looks up from his desk as he hears your soft body pound against the bowl next to him—and toss up some water that almost splashes onto the documents splayed out before him—and frowns slightly. “I know it’s not very spacious… I apologise, my love. But I don’t have anything larger at this moment, hopefully the pet store will find a more adequately sized fish tank soon.”

  He doesn’t understand how you had suddenly turned into a jellyfish, you had been behind him for a brief moment before he heard your curse (likely because you stubbed your toe) and then a poof… when Neuvillette had turned around, you were like a deflated balloon on dry land. 

  Thankfully he had created a pocket of water for you from the saltwater nearby to float in as he brought you back to the city, but the situation puzzled him greatly—how could you become such a creature? He wasn’t entirely sure you were fully conscious in that body, but judging by your frustrated movements in the small bowl, he suspected you at least had partial awareness. 

  Neuvillette doesn’t want to leave you alone while you’re like this, he’s both worried you might suddenly transform back, without any clothes—which would be terribly awkward to try and depart his office in that state—or possible hurt yourself if you broke the bowl with the transformation and cut yourself.

  Thus, thankfully after you’re given a larger tank in his office (and at home, he’s not leaving you at his office overnight alone!) there is a smaller one placed in the Opera Epiclese, next to his chair. 

  During a court proceeding, Neuvillette had to present the evidence in a firmer manner than usual, as the representative to the one being judged was being rather contrarian—which was far from productive and consumed far more time than it needed to. 

  Every time he successfully made an argument that couldn’t be refuted or argued with, you released a faint bioluminescent glow—as if applauding his expert navigations of the evidence and arguments. No one seems to notice (it’s difficult enough to see Neuvillette so high up above the stage) but he still feels a bit sheepish when you do it—you’re likely not doing it on purpose, he doubts you would know how.

  Neuvillette is very careful with the temperature and the salinity levels of the water you inhabit for the time being, he creates a careful schedule to check it every few hours as well as adjusting it depending on day and night. He’s very determined to ensure you’re as comfortable as you can be, whether you realise you’re a weird blob with tentacles or not. 

  And he hopes he can figure out how to change you back soon… as cute as it is to watch you twirl around and show off when he stands before your tank, he would rather you show off your moves as yourself—where he can properly talk to and touch you. 

[arc-misadventures]

Whom do you Relate?

Winter: Jaune, can I ask you something?

Jaune: What is it?

Winter: Among the, Specialists there is a tradition of sorts that we ask our newest members; This question is meant to help us gage the mentality of our newest members. Would you care to answer this question for me?

Jaune: Oh, newest member? Am I being drafted into the, Specialist?

Winter: No, you're... Well, if you're interested I could put in a word with, General Ironwood for you. I told him about your reasoning for seeking to destroy the, Karnivair, and how you planned, and managed to destroy the, Karniviar within a matter of minutes. General Ironwood was most impressed. He would be honoured to have a, Huntsman like you under his service.

Jaune: Oh...

Jaune looked to the side as he took in, and contemplated the words that, Winter had spoken.

Jaune: Thank you, Winter... I'll think about it...

Joining the, Specialist's? Jaune couldn't help, but contemplate the possibility of, joining, Winter, and becoming a, Specialist. Maybe after she was dead he could join...

Jaune: So... what is this question you wish to ask?

Winter: The question we ask new, Specialist members is this: 'What fictional character do you most relate to?'

Jaune: Fictional characters? Why fictional characters, and not some historical figure instead?

Winter: It's fictional characters because it is easier for a person to relate to a fictional character than a real person. A fictional character can be changed, and molded to fit a person interests, desires, and character beliefs. But, a real person is already set in stone, they are who they are. So, we ask what fictional character a new recruit feels like they can relate to as a way to gage their potential, and mind set. So tell me, Jaune: 'What fictional character do you most relate to?'

Jaune looked away from, Winter once more as his contemplated her question before coming to a rather peculiar answer to her question.

Jaune: Before I answer... Who did you most relate to?

Winter: M-Me...?! Well... I-I most related to... The Rusted Knight...

Jaune: The Rusted Knight? The character from the children's book story?

Winter: It is my favourite book okay! I've always like the, Rusted Knight so I always related to him...

Jaune: Can you tell me why?

Winter: Well... Alyx was always protected by the, Rusted Knight. He didn't do it because he wanted anything, but because he wanted to protect her, because it was the right thing to do. And, I feel like that is what I should do, as a Huntress, and even more so as a, Specialist. So.. I relate, and feel inspired to be like the, Rusted Knight. You know...?

Jaune: Ha... Now that's cute...

Winter: C-C-Cute?!

Winter's face was flushed red from embarrassment as she stuttered out her indignation at, Jaune. A soft smile playing across his face as he watched her.

Winter: Excuse me! How is me finding the, Rusted Knight relatable cute?!

Jaune: Well... when I look at you, Winter... It always feel like you're... far off...

Winter: 'Far off?'

Jaune: Distant. Closed off. You are a reserved person by habit, Winter. You're upbringing, and military training made you a quiet, and reserve person. To know that you relate to a character from a children's book makes you feel more human. And... And, it's cute to think of you as a little girl looking up to the, Rusted Knight. A cute little girl looking up to her hero. Isn't that such a nice thought?

Winter's face was flush red as a raging blush spread across her face. She muttered a dew words as she look away from, Jaune.

Winter: N-Now you're just making fun of me...

Jaune: Oh, only just a little.

Winter: Jerk...

Jaune: Haha...

Jaune chuckled softly as he looked out on the frozen tundra of, Atlas.

Winter: Do you... relate to the, Rusted Knight as well?

Jaune: Hmmm... Well... I've always had this weird feeling about the, Rusted Knight... I relate to him... but it doesn't feel like I relate to him as a character, but it feels more... familiar... familial relation...

Winter: Familial? Like a brother?

Jaune: Something like that, but... different. I don't know how to explain it, Winter. Its always just felt that way ever since my mom first read me the story about the, Rusted Knight. I never understood it myself, it just felt that way.

Winter: That's... interesting... In that case, back to my original question: 'What fictional character do you relate to most?'

Jaune: Hmmm...

Jaune's mind went back to her question, and he came back to a simple answer. But, Jaune doubted, Winter would understand.

Jaune: I... I don't relate to anyone... anything...

Winter: Nothing? You feel like you don't relate to anyone?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I don't think so... I never felt like I did... I was inspired by stories of knights; slaying the monster, rescuing the princess, saving the day, stories like that... I mean look at me, I'm a literal knight in shinning armour. Oh...?

Winter: 'Oh?' What's, 'oh?'

Jaune: I guess I relate to the ideal of a knight in shinning white armour. That was a childhood dream of mine, to become the knight in shinning white armour, just like in the stories. But, reality has dulled it's allure, and luster. It's hard to see yourself as the knight in shinning white armour when your armour is covered in mud, and blood...

Jaune look down looking down at his gauntlet, notice now, how much it could do with a cleaning.

Jaune: Well... I'll let others seem me as the knight in shinning white armour... I'll make sure they live long enough to be seen that way.

Jaune clenched his fist, and squeezed it as he made this silent vow to himself. All the while he was unaware as, Winter stared on at him. Shaking her head as she dispelled the scarlet blush creeping across her face.

Jaune: So, does that answer your question, Winter?

Winter: Yes... That answers it beautifully.

Jaune: B-Beautifully? Why did you answer it like that?

Winter: A childhood dream ,and the desire to live it out even when the world throws everything it has at you; That's such a beautiful thought, isn't it?

Jaune: Hmm... I suppose it is...

Winter walked aver to, Jaune her hands behind her back as a radiant smile flashed across his face.

Winter: So, Jaune... I will ask, General Ironwood about the possibility of you becoming a, Specialist. You don't have to say yes, just think on it, okay?

Jaune: Okay. I'll give it some thought.

Winter: Good!

Winter walked past, Jaune before turning on her heel to stare back at him.

Winter: And, if you become a, Specialist... I'll become your new partner!

Jaune: Uhhh... what?

Winter: Tee-hee~!

Winter tilted her head, and winked at him before leaving, leaving a stunned, Jaune just standing there trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Jaune: ...?!

Jaune: The hell...?!

: Oh~? I think she likes you, Jaune.

Jaune turned on the spot to see the ghostly visage of, Pyrrha Nikos standing before him.

Jaune: W-Winter Schnee... l-l-l-likes... me?!

Pyrrha: Yep~!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Bullshit...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

The time when your father is out of the house is always the most peaceful. All the same, the anticipation of his return keeps you on edge. You never really know when he’ll be back. He could be gone for days at a time or only a few hours. With news of his new out-of-town assignment, you can at least breathe for a moment. 

He leaves without a goodbye. The word sentimental has never been used in the same vicinity as your father. You and your sisters watch him go, less forlorn than you may appear. Relief washes over you as the door closes. 

“Can we go shopping now?” Adrienne asks. She’s the youngest at eighteen. 

“We should,” you say. “Kitty, you have the money?” 

“In my purse,” the eldest assures you. Kitty, thought your mother always insisted on her full name, Katherine, is almost thirty and wears it plainly. “More than enough.” 

“We should try to buy extra in case he waits again,” you say. 

“Yeah, you always are the most practical.” 

“Can we go to the bakery?” Adrienne asks. Mr. Mulano gave me some money the other day for helping her air out her townhouse. You wouldn’t imagine the dust. I still have a rash.” 

“If you have the money,” Kitty resigns. 

“I do and I want to spend it on us. We’ll get canolis. They were always ma’s favourite.” 

You give a glum smile. Kitty is the most like your mother. The sweetest. Always thinking of others. And she looks like her too. It’s probably why you and Adrienne get in front of her when the storm starts or even why your father doesn’t tend to go after her as much as you. 

And she took your mother’s death the hardest. You grieve more for the life she lived than the life that she lost. She had a monstrous husband and three helpless daughters. She spent her days scrounging despite having a made man and was battered to the bone in trying to protect what little she had. When she died, there was no shield left between you and your father’s temper. 

“Yes, let’s go to the bakery,” you agree. “I’ll pay for coffee. I have some change in my purse.” 

You get dressed in a carefully picked outfit. It’s warm out but you wear a long-sleeved white blouse. You balance it with a tea-length beige skirt. The shirt covers the bruises mostly, though you have to blend a bit of makeup around your neck and your face as always is painted to hide the darker spots. Not much can be done for the split in your lip. 

You go out and the sunshine feels warmer than usual. That shadow still looms. His shadow. No, not your father’s. Barnes’. You’re as embarrassed as you are terrified. Why did you do that? Your father? Dead? You must have seemed so naive. That’s not how it works. 

You shrug it off and go about your day. It’s a rare occasion that you can just enjoy being with your sisters. You do the shopping first. You fill the cart with all you need, and a few extra staples just in case, then go to the bakery. 

Nova is always busy and for good reason. They have more than just coffee cakes and pastries. They have a full sit-in deli and coffee roasted in Sicily. 

You offer to sit with the cart as Kitty and Adrienne stand in line. Kitty wants to look at the delicately iced specials through the glass and Adrienne wants to be sure she only gets decaf. You’re all too happy to have a seat. 

You sit with one hand on the cart and the other on your purse. You look down at the worn leather. The brown bag was your mothers. You didn’t get a lot of what she left behind. Your father threw most of it out, though you know he hawked her jewelry when he got his new car. As much as he proclaims his love for her, he doesn’t show it otherwise. 

The bell above the door rings amidst the buzz of the closed space. They’ll have to open the windows soon to let the heat escape. You glance over carelessly at the new entrance. You snap up straight as your eyes meet the bright blue ones. As if looking for you, the boss finds you, a calm, unreadable expression beneath his dark beard. 

You stare back at him and squeeze the strap of the purse. He fixes his tie and nods his head at you. Your lashes flick in surprise. Then, he faces the horde as they start to quiet. Those ahead of him take notice nd hush, stepping aside to let him through. 

Kitty gasps as Adrienne grabs her arm and moves her away from the front of the line, giving up their turn for the mafioso strutting toward them. He stops before he reaches the counter. The entire place watches. 

“Go on, ladies,” he insists, “it’s on me.” 

You blink and shrink back against the metal frame of the chair. Your sisters don’t move at first and when they do, they use the same caution as when your dad’s huffing and puffing in the corner. They speak to the cashier in low tones and turn to Barnes. They thank him with their hands clutched. 

He placidly puts in his own order and digs out his wallet. The cashier tries to wave him off but he insists. You only catch a few words from your vantage. 

He gets his coffee first and box of pastries. You never imagined him having much of a sweet tooth. The sight of this deadly man in his dark suit in this place is absurd. He doesn’t come to collect the protection fee, men like your father do. No, he’s there for a coffee and dessert. At least, you can’t believe that it would be for any other reason. Especially not you 

It can’t be. 

He turns and struts out without a look back. You stare after him as a low murmur crawls through the bakery. You peek through the window as he passes. His blue eyes glint in your direction and his cheek dimples. Your world is small, too small for coincidences. You’re starting to think there’s more going on than just a job out of town. 

[nthspecialll]

There is a reason why you won't see me hating on Beecher's Hope or saying "omg it is so much worse than the camp/it is so dead" and that is Abigail. She is personally one of my favourite characters in the whole universe and I absolutely hate the camp on her behalf.

1899 was not Abigail's year in any shape, way or form. John didn't want to accept her or Jack, Susan was asking her to go into sex work again, her son's life was put at risk several times, everything just fell apart. She was not happy, which is also why you won't see her singing around the camp fire, telling stories or anything similar.

A lot of this continued up until 1907, having constantly been on the run for eight years, neither her life or her son's life being safe, but then John got his act together and Abigail got what she always wanted.

I cannot describe the joy I feel for her seeing how far she has come. She was an orphan girl playing pianos in brothels at eight and now she is a house wife with a loving husband, living in a place where her son is safe. She actually feels comfortable enough to sing, to joke, to take a breath and relax, I love Beecher's Hope on her behalf because it was all she fought so hard for.

Also her little "King Marston and his chariot rides out, oh my lord" is so sweet.

[writingthroughmyass]

Service Animal (Part one)

My mans Logan Howlett X Reader (afab)

Part two here

WARNING: This is soooo self insert it's not even funny. I get weird migraines that present like absent seizures and thought it would be nice to get a warning beforehand by my favourite babygirl Logan (like my own personal service animal). This is gonna be in three parts, it's mostly finished and ends in smooshing so be ready for that ;)

UPDATE: turns out my migraines are actually mini strokes :)

The after effects of using your power was kicking your ass.

In a daze, you made it to your private room and went straight to your bathroom. You felt the nausea rising up in your throat and quickly opened the toilet lid to throw up. 

The multiple alternate realities of what could have happened tonight flashed before your eyes. Ororo, Jean, Scott, Logan, all collapsed on the floor, dead. Their screams played in a relentless loop in your head; you were dissociating badly. Your surroundings melted away until there was nothing but the countless ways they could have died if you hadn't bent reality to avoid it. 

Always. It's always like this. 

Gradually, you begin to return to your body, only to realise there was someone in the room with you, holding your hair back. 

Terrified, your body snapped up from its kneeling position to face the intruder. 

“Woah, hey, it's just me. Calm down.”

“L-Logan?” you slurred, suddenly feeling self conscious of the smell of your breath. 

“I knocked and called out but you didn't answer. So I came in to check on you.” 

You eyed him, feeling suspicious of how out of character this was for him. 

“Why are you looking at me like I'm lying? I'm not totally heartless,” he said defensively.

“Why'd you come in the first place to see me though? I thought you were pissed with me,” you grumble.

When you'd overdone it with your powers, Logan threw a hissy fit and yelled at you for going too far. While you knew it was out of care, it still rankled you that he was acting as if you were a child. You knew what you were doing. 

“I… just had a bad feeling,” he said quietly. “Y'know how I've got my heightened senses. I could tell something was off with you.”

“I'm fine. Just need to rest. This is normal for me.”

You turned around to the bathroom sink and grabbed your toothbrush. You gave your teeth and tongue a quick clean, wanting to just wash all the blood off your body so you could sleep. 

It felt like you had a raging hangover from drinking Everclear all night. 

When you turned from the sink you noticed Logan was still there. 

“Uh… need something? I wanna get ready for bed and pass out.”

“Yeah, I need to know you're okay,” he says.

“I told you, I'm fine. I'm going to shower so please leave.” 

Your patience was wearing thin. But you were also aware that some of it was nervousness coming out as aggression. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, although his attitude left much to be desired. His behaviour tonight was quite frankly really sweet and it was psyching you out. You were already in the midst of losing touch with reality and his actions were so contradictory to his usual self that it was causing you a psychotic break. 

“You're not listening to me,” he ground out, losing some of his own patience. “I'm telling you that something is wrong with you.” 

You stared silently at him, mouth slightly hanging open. 

“Okay, that came out the wrong way.” He was ruffling his hair in agitation. Cute. “What I'm saying is- I'm… ah…”

“Please, Logan, I just want a shower so I can go to bed…”

“Look, I'll just wait in your room and I'll leave once you're in bed safe, ‘kay,” he says, turning to the door and walking out, shutting it behind himself. 

Fuck. 

You just wanted to be alone so you could have a good cry. You were incredibly confused about what in the world was going on but now you were really getting scared. And Logan's words were not helping. 

What if he's right and this time your connection with reality has been completely severed? But what else were you supposed to do? Let them all die? Even with your special training with Charles, your power was so unruly and chaotic that it was terrifying. You had to be careful or there would be no way back. 

You got undressed and turned on the shower, stepping inside. It was only once you were under the hot stream of water that you realised you'd left your pyjamas in your bedroom. You groaned aloud. Fuck, now you'd have to walk in front of Logan in nothing but a towel. Why the fuck was he here? You wished he'd just leave. 

You watched the dried blood wash away from your skin, turning the floor of your shower a bright red. 

You felt your stomach drop and your head turned fuzzy. The sound of your shower disappeared. The safety of your surroundings melted away. 

Scott, his eyes gouged out from his head. Ororo’s limbs crumpled every which way, her eyes clouded over not because of her powers but because she was lifeless. Jean, her neck holding on to her body by a thread, her cranium blasted open and her brain dripping down her face. 

Logan, on the ground, ripped to shreds, his Adamantium bones showing through his torn flesh. And the wounds weren't healing. 

It was always like this. As if you were being punished for playing god. It was as if all the horrible realities you prevented from happening still lived on but solely in your mind, driving you insane. It left scars of trauma on your psyche, Charles had told you. So you had to be careful in how you used your powers or you may become completely untethered from reality. A fate worse than death. 

Vaguely, you could hear yourself mumbling and gasping and swallowing loudly, trying to find some kind of equilibrium in the mess of your mind. 

You were trying desperately to connect back with your body but at the same time you didn't want to because it only meant having to fight this same battle over and over again. 

Seeing your friends die before your very eyes in hundreds of thousands of different ways, experiencing each traumatic story to its conclusion. Only to have it all unravel into a reality where none of it happened, but the whiplash makes you doubt this reality too. It's always too good to be true. You feel it in your bones that you don't deserve this. That the way you twist reality is wrong and one day it'll catch up to you in the worst possible way. 

You feel water running down your face and remember that you're in the shower. You try to ground yourself and come back to your body. You hear the water splashing, feel the ground beneath your feet, the solid embrace around you. 

You try to move but you can't. Finally, you snap fully to your body. Your mind is groggy, feeling like you'd been hit by a truck. But there's the unmistakable warmth surrounding you, dense and as unyielding as brick. 

Your face is roughly yanked upwards and you open your eyes.

“Fuck, finally! Are you alright?” 

You stare blearily, mouth open and dry from the adrenaline that had been pumping through your body just moments ago.

Bright hazel eyes. Huh. So pretty. You'd never noticed. 

You realise you're not supporting your own weight. You're finally aware that Logan has you in an embrace, holding your body up, one hand around your waist and the other on your jaw as he looks into your face. The water on your face isn't from the shower, you realise. It's your tears. 

“Bloody hell, please say something,” he says angrily. You feel some of your own anger flare up in response. What's his problem? 

“Fuck,” you croak. 

You feel his chest vibrate against yours as he laughs, suddenly aware that you're as naked as the day you were born and this man is fully clothed standing in your shower, getting his white singlet wet. Giving you a bear hug…

Your brain short circuits as you try to come up with words, feeling your whole body heat with embarrassment. 

“W-what are you doing in here?” you manage to slur.

“Helping your ass,” he says roughly. “Can you stand?”

Fuck, good question. Can I stand??

“C-close your eyes first,” you demand. 

“Bit late to be feeling shy now don't you think?” he teases with a wink. 

“Just close ‘em!” you yell at him. 

He laughs before complying. 

You extricate yourself from his arms, turning off the shower, then navigate carefully around him to exit the cubicle. You grab a towel and cover yourself, making a mental note to grab a clean one later since this one was definitely dirty now. 

“Okay, open your eyes and get out, please.”

He turns to look at you.

“Don't think that's a good idea, bub.”

“And why is that?” you huff impatiently.

“What if you collapse in the shower again?” he says matter of factly.

“I've been having these things for a long time. I've managed to survive so far so don't stress about it.”

“It's different now though, isn't it? You've been having these for a long time, you said so yourself, and they're only getting worse instead of better.”

You sigh heavily in frustration. You hated that he was right. 

“So what exactly are you suggesting?” 

Your heart was beating like crazy. He better not suggest what you think he was going to suggest.

“I'm sure old Chuckie boy wouldn't mind lending you his shower chair for the night,” he smirked. 

You laughed out loud despite the tension in the room. He always managed to make you laugh. 

“Yeah, I'm just going to wake up an old man in the middle of the night to ask if I can borrow his shower chair,” you joked, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. 

He laughed along with you then you both shared a few moments of comfortable silence. Only for him to break it with-

“My other suggestion is to shower with me so I can make sure you don't faint and hurt yourself.”

You stared at him distrustfully.

“Hey, look, I'm not being a pervert, it's just the only solution I can think of on the fly,” he placates, hands raised as if to say I'm innocent and unarmed. 

“Right…”

You stopped to think for a second, your muddled mind trying to make sense of the situation. 

It made you especially uncomfortable that you didn't exactly have your full mental faculties about you. 

But Logan was a good friend. You'd fought beside him many times before and you saw that you could trust him. But… he was still a man. A man much bigger and stronger than you. 

“Can I trust you?” you asked falteringly. What a stupid idea to ask the opinion of someone fully in power over you. 

“I promise I won't do anything without you wanting it. This is entirely your choice.” 

You looked him in the eyes, trying to find a trace of falsehood in them. But you only saw honeyed eyes, dripping with conviction. The same conviction you'd seen many times before when he was protecting those he loved. 

You felt yourself feel a little calmer. 

“Okay… but you better not break your promise. Or I'll sick Charles and his shower chair on you.” 

“I won't. I just want to keep you safe,” he said in a low, serious voice. 

You felt a fluttering behind your ribs. Fuck… I'm about to shower with this incredibly attractive asshole.

“Okay… you get in first,” you said. 

“Yes, ma'am,” he said a little too cheerily. 

You turned around to give him privacy to undress. You heard the rustle of his clothes then a thump as he dropped them on the floor of your bathroom. 

Should've known he'd be a slob…

You heard the shower turn on and you braced yourself for what was to come next. 

You turned towards the shower, keeping your head down and eyes averted. You removed your towel and stepped into the shower, still not looking at Logan and ignoring his presence, which was hard to do in your little shower. Thankfully he was turned away respectfully.

You stood behind him, turned away from his body. You took your soap and began to lather it over yourself as you usually did when you showered. 

“Would you like a hand with your back?” Logan spoke up. 

You paused as you weighed up the question in your mind. 

“Sure,” you said quietly, trying to keep yourself calm. 

This is totally normal. We're just friends having a shower. Together. 

You turned your back and heard him applying soap to his hands. Slowly, gently, as if you were made of glass, he began to rub your back, starting with your shoulders. You felt yourself give an involuntary shiver.

“Are you cold? Do you need the water a bit hotter?” he asked you. 

“No, it's fine. The temperature is okay with you?” 

“Yeah, bub, just perfect.” 

His hands felt massive against your back. He massaged your neck for a few seconds before moving down your shoulder blades towards your middle back. 

“Did-did you want me to do your back too?” you asked, trying to hide how nervous you were. 

“Since you're offering, sure,” he said gruffly. You turned towards him at the same moment he turned away from you, unfortunately catching a glimpse of his insane fucking abs, but thankfully managing not to make eye contact. 

You soaped up your hands and began with his neck, trying not to notice how thick and muscular his traps were. 

God… this is hell but also heaven. 

You ran your hands across his ridiculously broad shoulders and down his middle back, avoiding going too low lest you caress his stupid, tight ass. 

“I'm going to wash my hair, okay?” you told him, unsure of why you were asking permission. 

“Don't know why you're asking my permission.” Fuck. You were being weird. “But I can do the same right?” he responded, holding in laughter. 

You felt your face go hot.

“D-do what you want,” you said petulantly. 

You took the shampoo bottle, squeezing what you needed for yourself before handing it to him over his shoulder, which he thankfully kept turned to you in respect. 

You both washed your hair in silence. You already felt a bit better. You dreamily thought of your bed as you rinsed the shampoo from your hair. 

You then grabbed the conditioner and squeezed some into your hand. 

“Need the conditioner?” you asked Logan.

“What for?” he asked, confused. 

“For your hair, duh.”

“Nah, I'm good. Haven't had to use it so far in my life, won't start now. Need a hand with washing your hair?” 

You knew he was trying to be helpful. But it felt so, so wrong. Like overstepping your relationship as friends. But then again… would you ever get the chance again to have an incredibly sexy man wash your hair for you? 

“Sure,” you said stiffly.

Silence, then his hand moved around you to grab the bottle from you. 

“Ah-” you already had some conditioner in your hand. You were about to tell him but decided to keep quiet as he worked on your hair. 

His fingers… so thick and strong yet gentle through your hair, over your scalp. You couldn't help but to close your eyes and enjoy the sensation. 

It was over too soon and he stepped away from you again. You tipped your head to rinse your hair, giving your face a quick scrub with water while you were at it; fuck your skin routine, you were going straight to bed. 

“I'm going to step out first,” you informed him. 

He grunted in reply and you stepped from the shower, grabbing two clean towels from your bathroom cupboard. You covered yourself with one and half turned your body to Logan, gaze still averted from his direction. 

“Here ya go,” you tried to say cheerily, offering the towel to him.  

“Thanks,” he said and grabbed it from your hand. You quickly moved to the door. 

“Wait until I say you can come in,” you said before closing the door behind you. 

Fuuuuucccckkkkk.

This was not helping you to relax at all.

You dried yourself quickly and threw your pyjamas on. 

“I'm done!” you called through the door. 

He stepped out with his towel wrapped around his stupid, slutty waist. You could see his happy trail adorning his abs. His enormous pecs, his dog tags resting in the dip of his gorgeous chest. 

“Hey, bub, my eyes are up here,” he teases. 

You swallow thickly and glare at his stupid, smirking face.

“Have I ever told you I hate you?” you retort, only succeeding in making him laugh. 

“How are you feeling now?” he says softly, suddenly serious. 

“I'm… exhausted. I usually sleep a lot after an episode.” 

He nods in understanding. 

“You'll be okay if I leave?”

This gives you pause. If you were being honest to yourself, you'd say, “Please stay. I don't want to be alone tonight.” 

But you weren't honest with yourself. 

“Thanks for looking out for me, Logan. I really appreciate it and sorry for putting you out. I'll be okay. You can go to bed now if you want.” 

He looked at you in silence. He stepped towards you, so close that you had to look up to keep eye contact. You could feel the warmth radiating from him. Fuck he runs hot. 

“You mean it, right? You're okay to be alone?” 

You stared at him, a little bit dumbfounded. Was he able to read minds or something? 

“Yes, I'll be fine. I'll be in bed so I can't exactly fall,” you chuckled. 

He didn't laugh with you. Only watched you carefully. 

“Okay. I'll respect what you say you want,” he says carefully. 

Again, this is so out of character for him that you second guess yourself whether you're in reality or not. 

You watch as he turns to the bathroom and grabs his clothes from the floor then goes towards the door to the hall. 

“Hey-w-wait-y-you're not going out like that are you?” you stutter in disbelief.

He turns back to you. 

“What else am I going to do?” he asks incredulously. 

Clueless.

“Put your clothes back on,” you retort.

“Ew, you're a bit of a slob, aren't you? They're dirty and covered with blood and who knows what or who else.”

You deadpanned. 

“What if… what if you stayed here for the night?” you blurted out without thinking. You flinch at your own words.

Logan pauses with his hand on the door knob. 

“I don't exactly have my pyjamas here with me,” he says slowly. 

“I've already seen and touched you naked. What's the difference?” you hear yourself say.

What the fuck am I saying?

“I-I mean, surely I have something that can fit you,” you amend quickly. His face seems to go slack in surprise.

“Wow. You really want it, huh?” he smirks at you. 

You ignore the heat that overtakes your whole body. 

“N-never mind! Fuck off already,” you say sourly. 

“Hey, I'm just joking,” he laughs. “I can definitely stay if it helps you feel better.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself melt a little bit. 

“It… it would. Help me feel better, I mean.” 

Having him near you would help remind you that this is real, you justify. 

“Alright then,” he nods to you. “Some clothes would be great.” 

“Ah, sure, give me a second.” 

You quickly go to your wardrobe to locate the loosest pair of pants you own. He'll just have to sleep shirtless, there's no way you have a top that will fit over his broad shoulders. 

You find a dark grey pair of trackies and turn back to him. 

“Try these.”

“Thanks,” he says as he takes it from your hand.

As he moves back to the bathroom you jump into bed to wait. Your bed never felt so fucking good. 

You've barely settled under the covers when Logan reappears from the bathroom, his hair still wet and dripping down his neck. You do your best not to stare. 

He moves towards you and lifts the covers to slip into bed with you. 

This is just a sleepover, you tell yourself. Like when you have a friend over for the night.

Logan slots himself into your bed alongside you and you become suddenly aware of how small your double bed is. The frame creaks loudly from the weight of him and his Adamantium bones. 

“Comfy?” you ask.

He turns in the bed so he's facing you. A smile slowly makes its way to his face and you find you can't breathe for a second. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he murmurs. 

“Alright, sweet, g’night then,” you say quickly, turning away from him to still your beating heart. Fuck, I hope he can't hear my heart right now.

“Are you sure you're ready to sleep? Your heart is beating pretty fast,” he points out cooly. 

Mother fucker.

“So… you have heightened senses right? Kind of.. like a dog?” I'm not thinking straight, why am I trying to piss him off? 

“Thought you were going to sleep,” he grunted. The sound of his gravelly voice did something to you. But you ignored it. 

“It just kind of reminds me of those service dogs, y'know the ones that can sense when their owner is going to have a seizure? I mean, I know I don't have seizures exactly, but I guess it presents sort of like one.”

“What are you trying to say?” he asks gruffly. He doesn't like it when people compare him to dogs. You're just grateful you can't see the look on his face right now. 

“I'm just wondering how you can tell? What is it exactly that you're sensing? It's always interested me,” you say honestly. 

He grunts again and goes quiet before answering.

“I can smell it. Can't even explain what it actually smells like. But that's how I know, although it isn't always accurate.”

“That's really interesting.” And you mean it. It really is interesting… although the implications concerning his sense of smell have you a little bit paranoid… 

“So that's why I'm telling you to listen to me when I fucking tell you to stop with your powers. You could've killed yourself tonight,” he grinds out, anger in his voice. 

“Logan… you need to understand where I'm coming from. You all died tonight. Like literally, right before my very eyes, you were all dead. What do you expect me to do?” 

You feel tears pricking your eyes, the lump in your throat is choking you.

“I… I can't talk about this right now okay?” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Okay… okay, I'm sorry,” his voice softens. “Please, just get some sleep, okay? Guide dog’s orders.”

And just like that you're laughing again, feeling a tear running down your cheek to your pillow. You were so grateful to have him in your life. You were also grateful he couldn't see you crying right now. 

“Alright, g'night, puppy,” you tease.

“‘Night,” he says softly. 

A minute passes and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. You smile to yourself, knowing that you have your own personal “service animal” to keep you safe tonight.

[valentine-cafe]

how would the 209 herrera husbands be with an extremely shy assistant (like no eye contact, only the tiniest conversation and is always stuttering) who is still very kind, like giving them their morning coffee or silently arranging their papers in their office without them even having to ask their assistant to do it. (and of course assistant has a big crush on them, but refuses to say anything about it cuz 1. shyness 2. the boys are already married and they do not wish to be a homewrecker).

gn preferably so everyone can read it and keep up the good work i really love what you do guys and you’re basically my role models atp (sorry if the request is bad i don’t know how to do that at all—)

˖⁺. ﹙ mad doctor yandere  x gn reader x mad scientist yandere. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . Don't rush away just yet dear !! 🍒 :  jìngyí: mad doctor ˖ naga ˖ yandere character ˖ rishen: mad scientist ˖ mantis-moth-spider hybrid ˖ yandere character﹙ verse 209 jìngyí & rishen. ﹚

you are their shy little assistant

Now, they are no strangers to tepidness in the people around them. If it is not their intimidating aura, then their crippling charm certainly did the trick.

You were different, however. They have always loved the shyness of those they find attractive. You ticked that box right off with spiraled their interest to your constant cast-away vision. Your stammered struggles. Not to mention your sweet acts.

They would describe you in one way — darling. With your big pupils and flustered face whenever they so much as stood a few inches apart from you.

If these two are anything, they are indulgers. How can they resist a pretty thing such as yourself ready to run away and hide under a rock the second you catch sight of them? Your interest in them is so painfully obvious, so why not have a little workplace fun?

Your averted gazes are the first target.

“Let me see your eyes, darling. I am speaking to you.”

Jìngyí would muse whenever you desperately attempted to look the other way. Persist and you will receive lean, elegant fingers turning your chin towards him. Before your cheek receives a small pat and he smiles that devilishly charming smile.

“There we go. Not so hard, is it?”

Rishen is even worse. Whenever you stammered and hurried through your words, his head would tilt and his brows arch. That smile - it should be illegal. The more your heart raced, you’d eventually attempt escape. Alas his tut would stop you dead in your tracks.

“Now, now. Cariño. Get back here hmm? We’re discussing such important matters after all.”

He’ll put his hand on yours when you struggle further. Strike a smile that makes you wish to run anyway.

And then came the gifts. They were small at first — your favourite warm beverage, some snacks at lunch on your desk. Some random days off. Jewellery for ‘performance’-

How could they resist with that flustered look on your face and the way you so vehemently attempted to deny their gifts. If only for them to insist that it is of most important that you accept. You wouldn’t reject a gift from your employers after all — right?

All in all, you’re a fun little thing to play around with. Especially when you go on about your worries of being a homewrecker to Rishen — to which the scientist let out a laugh, cupped your face and murmured in a voice to put velvet to shame.

“Oh, my dear. Do you not see that my husband wants you just as much?”

Mercy, mercy on your poor heart.

[aingeal98]

my favourite aspect of cass is whenever she insists on saving bad people. like her belief that anyone can change because she was once a bad person its so endearing and i love that about her. like that one issue where she consoled a kid whos father was a criminal. shes a perfect match for batmans no kill rule i love herrr

SO REAL it's such a fascinating element because no other character (not even Bruce sorry) has made saving The Bad People too such an integral part of her character. It's so compelling in a way a lot of other all loving heroes aren't for me because if you have like. A child murderer who says he will kill again and someone says "but he can change!" I wouldn't care and would want him dead. His victims past and future would always be the priority to me. But Cass approaches it with so much projection and character work going on every time that I end up rooting for her like yes Cass! Convince them they can change! I don't want to see what happens to you if you fail because I know your grief is going to hurt!

That line from the end of her batgirl run where she's like "why does everyone I care about die?" and the ghost of Stephanie replies "Because you care about everyone. And everyone dies." like ugh just. Cassandra Batgirl Wayne character of all time.

Thank you for the ask!

[mozzzz05]

I hate to bitch but… I’m going to:

There was just? So much wrong this season and not even because I wasn’t a fan of the ending - in fact, I quite liked that they were 8 little marigolds together - but the rest of it!?

There’s at least three plot lines that added fuck all to the story - and I’m all for fluffing out the stories/characters, love me a filler episode - but not only did we not have time for a filler episode with 4 less episodes than usual those plot lines added nothing to the characters or the story or anything really.

Klaus getting kidnapped (again), no one noticing (again) - getting possessed & having sex, getting buried alive (again, if ykyk) apart from Alison going to save him - what did it add? - I love Klaus he’s literally my favourite character, I always want more Klaus but it kind of feels like they didn’t know what to do with him? - “let’s make him relapse and do some crazy stuff, for shits and giggles!”

Diego & Luther going to the CIA - this is the one I see the most sense in of course, but apart from making Diego realise that he shouldn’t take Lila and his kids for granted and announcing that the CIA guy was part of the whole Jean & Gene cult thing (and getting to see David Castañeda’s abs (despite supposedly having a Dad Bod now?)) it kind of went on too long? It felt like it was slightly misplaced? Idk

And of course, how could it go unmentioned - the Five/Lila romance? whAT THE FUCK!??? Like it’s creepy both ways bcos Ritu Arya is 15 years older than Aidan Gallagher - freshly legal - and because Five is nearly 70 at that point? And that’s without even mentioning the fact that, oh yeah - Lila’s married to his BROTHER? But if you took it out - what would change? Genuinely? That Lila will always choose her family? Choose Diego? Tbh she could easily come to that conclusion without any romance, she clearly longed to go back more than Five did (who btw, abandoned his family after spending his entire life trying to save them - WHAT?)

The only one making any progress was Viktor

And so many things left unexplained- why did Ray leave Alison? What happened to Dave? (Guessing he’s long dead now but we still don’t know if Klaus’ s2 plan had any effect & the only hint of him we got this season was the dog tags (more than last season at least)) Why is Reggie a fucking alien? How did he get to earth??

I just feel so unpleasantly underwhelmed for a show that has meant so much to me the past few years, for an ending that was mildly disappointing but not as much as the 4 episodes that came before it.

[industrations]

will you ever draw masc sirius? not to compare artists but recently i've just noticed masc sirius pics get more notes and ppl get more pissed off bc of fem sirius. it's ok if you draw fem wolfstar (fem sirius AND fem remus) but it's kinda weird you only draw remus masc. kinda heteronormative. when wolf is gay. plus canonically sirius was masc and remus was fem (sirius was the biker and remus was short.) it's ok you're more into fanon but canon is real so i'm just curious if you will ever draw masc sirius. if you will it'll be very cool and i'm sure you'll get more notes too.

This is the LAST time I'm going to be talking about this because I'm so TIRED of this debate.

Firstly, the "canon" you speak of is written by this person. So think before you start arguing anything about canon.

Then, since apparently some of you still cannot read. I DO NOT DRAW FOR YOU; I DRAW FOR ME. I could not care less about notes or likes or popularity. I'm just here to have fun and enjoy my time. That you are so concerned about notes is your own problem, not mine, but I suggest you change that because notes do not equal any sort of value, and this mindset is just going to be bad for anyone's mental health.

My favourite thing as a person whose gender is literally all over the place is getting to express that through the characters I draw. For ME, this mainly happens through Sirius because his "canon" is this very HETERONORMATIVE man. The freedom of him being able to step away from that and to be allowed to be whatever he wants to be on that day is just wonderful. Sirius, for me, is a reminder that no matter what you're born as or whatever people say you should be, it does not say anything about how you feel or express yourself.

Remus will forever keep evolving for me. He's also allowed to be whoever he wants to be. When I read fics he looks different in every single one. And if you actually paid attention to my art, you can see that he does not always look the same. For me, Remus is a comfort. He will always be a long, wet noodle with bad knees to me. He will always have his scars and his freckles, and those are what make him beautiful. I'm not sure why people immediately assume this is something that makes him "the man" or "the top". If that's what you're thinking when you see them, then there's something gone wrong on your side because you are deciding what a queer relationship is supposed to look like, when in fact you are the one being homophobic and heteronormative.

Also that my Sirius is shorter and more gender-y so to say, does not mean he can't kill a bitch on sight. He could break Remus in half in a second if he wanted to.

Anyway, I'm off to draw some dead gay wizards in whatever way I want to <3 love you guys. Truly the majority of you make me feel safe and seen, and I couldn't have wished for a more supportive community

[broshot]

chubby girl chasers??? (jjk men who would LOVE to have a chubby gf!!) part 1 (part 2 link here and it's also at the end)

cw/tw: mentions of body image issues, mentions of nsfw in some (all??) parts, all characters are of age, (idk what else to put but english isn't my first language so sorry for bad writing)

---

gojo satoru

if you've ever seen my posts you could've guessed this tbh (I live love laugh gojo) he's so lovely

would hype you up NONSTOP and oh my gosh if you decide to wear more revealing clothes (or clothes that cling to your body) he'd be ON HIS KNEES worshipping you tbh

he just loves your plush and soft body SOO MUCH (he loves you as a person more ofc) but the way he can just come home after a long day and lay his head (or his whole body..) on top of you, he absolutely loves it. he loves all of you, seriously, he sees nothing wrong with you. you're perfect and he definitely tells you that too. not a day goes by without him calling you perfect.

and he loves when you dress up. tight clothes are his favourite because they allow him to see your perfect figure, and don't worry, no one would even have a chance to say anything bad about you or even look at you in a non-positive way. he's the strongest, he'll personally make sure that no one can make you feel bad about yourself.

missionary is his go to position. he wants to see your gorgeous body and gorgeous face as he fucks into you. you feel waaaay too good around him, he thinks he's lucky to be the one who gets to fuck you. you look so beautiful under him (you always look beautiful) and he's so lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like that. he's a praiser in and out of the bedroom, I swear. and if you wrap your legs around his lower body.. he loses it.

(read these fics (fic 1 is my personal fav) if you wanna know how I picture gojo in bed: fic 1, fic 2)

---

toji fushiguro

OH he would just love grabbing your plush thighs as he buries his face in between them and eats you out. would make you sit on his face (doesn't care about suffocating, he's strong so you don't weigh anything to him really). would love laying on your soft thighs and your stomach (makes you play w his hair, he's such a softie for you).

if you're insecure about yourself because of your body he'd praise the shit out of you (he'd praise you no matter what you're insecure about, if you're insecure). bro would surprisingly be your personal hype man tbh

"what did you just say about my gorgeous girlfriend? repeat that and you're dead." no one is allowed to say anything bad about you (there's nothing bad in you ((except for him, get it, nothing bad in you and he's bad and he's in you.. yeah not funny is it)) so why would anyone have the right to say anything bad). he makes you wear clothes you want to wear, makes sure you can have the style you want to have because no one should have the right to make you feel uncomfortable in clothes that you love. if you want to wear the tightest clothes there is, do it! he makes sure no one says anything to offend you or make you feel bad. he's famous of being capable of THINGS :heart: so no one would even dare to say anything but positive things about you- there's nothing but positive things about you.

---

yuuta okkotsu

bro was in love with a curse I don't think he really cares about looks LMAOO no but this man would literally love you more than anything. your weight is not a problem for him, why would it be? he loves everything about you, your personality, voice, looks, humor, style.. just everything.

his favourite thing is to fall asleep on top of you (his head is usually on top of your chest, stomach or thighs. I don't make the rules, he LOVES falling asleep on you. he's shy with his words tbh but he hypes you up despite that. you're insecure about your body? why? you're perfect, what is there to hate? he doesn't get it, you're the most gorgeous human being in the whole world. (prettier than everything else too, don't get me wrong). and he definitely will tell you what he thinks about you. endless praising tbh

he loves when you ride him; the feeling of your thighs on each side of him as he fucks his hips upwards into you?? he's in heaven, overstimulated by the pleasure and he loves it. will definitely tell you too (I'm a whiny submissive yuuta believer, he whimpers). he loves how soft you feel inside (and outside). he'll def massage your thighs when you ride him (or at least grab them).

---

megumi fushiguro

are we surprised? no we're not!

fav hypeman! he'd literally blush whenever he sees you, you're just way too out of his league (he thinks you're too gorgeous to be in love with someone like him) and he's your boyfriend?? he's the luckiest man alive.

he loves how you look all the time, especially when you're confident. if anyone dares to make you feel insecure about yourself, they will face the consequences. and trust me, no one wants to face those consequences (they're both painful and awfully humiliating. megumi knows how to make people regret things). he's shy about his feelings tbh but you'll hear endless compliments from him. he compliments you when he first sees you in the morning and throughout the day too. there won't be a day when he doesn't compliment you. he loves to see you when you're confident and loves to make you feel confident too.

and he loves your hands; he loves how they feel, he loves how they look.. he just loves your hands SO MUCH. he loves holding them and caressing them and kissing them. he loves how they feel and look around his dick...

he loves kissing you. his hands will be caressing you while his lips are sealed onto yours. if his hand is on the back of your neck, he'll softly pinch it (he loves the extra softness on it, I hope yall know what this means). he'll pinch your back too, your thighs, the sides of your stomach.. it'll definitely be a bit ticklish but you can't blame him, he loves everything about you way too much.

---

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I love chubby chasers tbh (I love chubby women pls) also I don't really like how this fic turned out but that's okay (it makes me wanna cry tbh but I hope yall enjoy!!!)

I got lazy so lmk if you want a part 2 (I have a lot of characters in mind for this)

[narcjsistx]

hii! hope you’re doing alright :))

can you do headcanons on chika takiishi(wbk)? like what would it be like dating him?

at the moment chika is not one of my favourites, but I'm pretty sure it will become in the next chapters... WHAT ABOUT HIS DESING? IT'S LITERALLY GORGEOUS HELP

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

— Chika Takiishi in a relationship HCS ᡣ𐭩

We all know that Chika's character isn't exactly the most outgoing, so in a relationship he certainly won't be the talkative guy that many hope for. Will it open a little more? Yes probably, but nothing excessive

The trope I see closest to a relationship with him is the "sunshine x sunshine protector". You would literally be one of the safest people in the city if not the safest. He's there to protect you, but let's remember that Endo practically protects what his muse loves... so yes, you would practically have two bodyguards. Not that Chika particularly likes leaving you with Endo, but if he has to, he's the only one he wouldn't have too much trouble with

He would take you wherever he goes too, he's not particularly happy about leaving you at home for the simple reason that they might attack you directly when he's not there. Sure, seeing your boyfriend get into extremely violent fights with several people isn't exactly the best scenario, but as long as Endo makes you think of something else... it's okay

The others, including Yamato, don't dare say anything remotely insulting towards Chika. Is it out of fear? Absolutely yes. But you have a sort of pass, you are in a certain way free to tell him whatever you want... with a certain limit however

He is often seen wearing a lot of costume jewelry: like rings, earrings and necklaces. I have this little scenario in mind that, before he goes out, he steals some from your collection and puts them to have you with him somehow. He'll never admit it directly, but it's a very personal way for him to always have you with him even when you just can't come

He will never directly ask you for a hug, but if you ask him, he won't let go until he's satisfied. It could take a few minutes or even an hour, it depends on the mood

Your dates are mostly at your house or his, he's not a big fan of outdoor ones for the simple reason that he hates people staring at him. Despite having a small space, things can vary from a night playing video games, to a night watching a movie, or doing… yk. Although his favorite remains when you color his hair, he loves to see you concentrate while you paint the yellow on the ends of his hair

The bad thing about dating Chika is that even when dead he won't apologize, even if it's entirely his fault. You will have to be the one to do it, and if you don't do it either, it will take the way of: I pretend nothing happened and gradually everything goes back to normal, and maybe I give her some more attention. It works, so why change?

I see him as someone who loves kisses on the jaw. While he loves the ones on his lips or neck, his jaw is one place he doesn't know how to react to without maintaining his usual commanding look. He might even hug you if you do, but I would keep my expectations low

Chika is canonically 1.83cm tall, and I can see him a lot with a partner who is much shorter than him, like 1.50cm or a little more. Just for size reasons, his clothes would probably be a little loose on you, and even if he doesn't show it, he likes to see you in his fur coats or t-shirts when you wear them