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#it also has to do with will’s wishes to not be coddled

oglegoggle · 1 year

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He was upset with me for thinking he’s a coward for breaking my things and hiding them rather than just telling me. He would tell me he forgot to tell me but he meant to. But he would “forget” to tell me every time it happened. He would go through the effort of hiding the broken pieces but then try to convince me he “forgot” to clean it up. He would spend entire paychecks on stupid bullshit then tell me he “forgot” he was supposed to be replacing my things he broke. He would use “I forgot” as a get out of jail free card for everything he did but then was angry with me for not believing him saying he didn’t break something because he would’ve remembered it if he had. In that moment he inadvertently albeit outright told me that the whole “I forgot” jig was a game to him that he only wanted to play when it would get him out of the consequences of his actions, but he’s got perfect photographic memory and I’m blaming him for something he didn’t do and would never do when thinking he’s a forgetful moron works against him. Despite his well established record of having done that multiple times already. Coward.

#this is goggles #cowardice is legitimately one of my most loathed character traits a person can have #the refusal to take responsibility when your actions hurt someone else and do better #he would pretend that he has never once done anything to hurt me but also actively berate himself for not treating me better #it was just a manipulation tactic to get me to coddle him and accept poorer treatment #he fucking sucked and I wish I could quit thinking about him already #I want to not be so stressed I want comforting affection I want a hot breakfast

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satoruluvies · 2 months

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jjk men when you're having a grumpy morning

includes: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji and sukuna

requested!

another headcanon coming your way ;)

gojo: this mf is always energetic and goofy save for some rare moments you were lucky enough to witness. you blame his sweet tooth for it honestly because what do you mean he still has the energy to tease you right when he wakes up? right when you wake up. you don't do mornings but you do gojo satoru so with a peck and some coddling you let out a small smile. on particularly extra grumpy mornings though, you find that the sweets he feeds you help a ton.

geto: how does this man have this much control over you? simple. because it's suguru. just a little gaze filled with admiration for you and only you make you fold. no, you are not one to be flattered so easily but come on. he chuckles at the small frown on your lips and somehow that sound turns your frown upside down. plus the warm hugs and soft voice is enough to make you win against even the impending doom of waking up.

nanami: we all know nanami is a man of actions and actions he does well. he'd get up before you, coffee already made and breakfast in process. he isn't fond of mornings either but he's fond of you. he loves seeing your messy hair and half lidded eyes with drool on your face come out of the bedroom lured out by the smell of delicious pancakes on the stove he so lovingly makes.

choso: he dislikes mornings, hates it even. so put your and his grumpy ass together you have two grumpy people having to deal with the early rays of the morning sun. you'd both be sleeping in, holding onto the last minutes you'd get to spend in bed until you begrudgingly try to get up only to be pulled back into bed by him. he'd huff and pull you closer into his chest, humming contently at no sign of protest. this is worth being late over, right?

toji: he's surprisingly an early riser. he used to train during early mornings so his body accustomed to it is what he told you. lately though, he doesn't train anymore, not as hard at least, so instead of hiking mountains and punching sacks, toji makes breakfast (cereal). he places the bowl in front of your zoned out self and ruffles your hair snapping you out of your daze. upon seeing your scowl he kisses you and when you shove him away he smirks. he watches you grumble as you eat the cereal, hoping you know that he remembered to put the cereal first and then milk, just how you like it.

sukuna: on mornings like this you wish sukuna could care a little more. you'd be dragging your feet to the kitchen to whip up something for the both of you only to be taken aback by the delicious looking breakfast for two at the table. sukuna wouldn't tell you anything about it only urging you to dine with him. you weren't stupid, the only one capable of this who also know sukuna would be uraume. poor uraume. but hey in his defense, kings don't cook, they give orders and sukuna was considerate enough to order someone to at least help with your h-anger. you can't be hungry and angry at the same time after all right? he does care a lot, in his own ways of course.

cereal first and THEN milk fight me grr

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kitkatpancakestack · 2 months

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Just re-watched some eps in s4 and I know it's all been said before but I'll say it again. My favorite thing about one Evan Buckley? His anger. He has so much pure, burning anger in him. This man is not just a "hothead," he has some mfing demons. The scene when he blows up at his parents? All of his flashbacks in Buck Begins, especially when he crashes his motorcycle? Up until season 4 we just see Buck as this idealistic, kind of ignorant and gullible, boneheaded frat bro with somewhat good intentions. But Buck has been egregiously hurt throughout his life. Also he's enormous. He could be a really mean dude. He could be rough and aggressive and violent and spiteful.

But he isn't.

We are all paradoxical but damn do I love the flavor of paradox that is Buck.

And I know we all like to bemoan Buck's screen time and his storylines but tbh he did start the show in such a place (age, demeanor, kind of an impressionable blank slate) that afforded him an advantageous position. And nothing is perfect but like, his story kind of slaps though. And season 4 cracks him open in such a fantastic way and I honestly wish they would explore the internal struggle of that more. I mean, what would it take for him to snap? How much does he have to battle those demons? Was he always like this or how did he learn to quiet his anger? Show me THIS. The entire lightning strike arc was a big ass flop to me sorry.

Anyway, long story short, the best part about Buck is that he isn't this pure uwu baby that needs to be taken care of and coddled, and I won't let the growing faction of Buck stans who just get hard-ons for pouty white boys, and who have clearly never watched the source material, permanently defile his character. He has some serious darkness in him, and he could have so easily turned out different. Buck is the master of facades no matter how mature he becomes. Choosing kindness and goodness is always more work than the other way around. And that's why Evan Buckley will always have a special place in my heart. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#evan buckley #911 abc #k spirals

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yandere-kokeshi · 5 months

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May I request Yandere!Ghost and König (Not poly pls) who has darling who tries to convince him that he needs help, but isn’t rude or mean about it! She genuinely wants to help him? Please and thank you!

— Yandere Ghost and König with female darling, who tries to convince them that they need help

Warnings: yandere behavior and slight delusional behavior. Also, fem reader.

A/N: I loved this. I hope you enjoy <3

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

He’s offended — what do you mean he requires help?

When you speak to him calmly, he narrows his eyes, looking at you with slight annoyance. Even though he knows you mean good, he will turn you down completely.

Simon, whilst also aware of his behavior, believes it’s there for a reason — to protect you. He’s not going to open up to some therapist, or some police to have a chance of you getting away and getting hurt.

Despite your wishes, he will say no. He can see your reasoning, but he’s keeping away from any professionals because he knows how they’ll react once and if he opens up.

And if you ask for a reason, he’ll ignore the question and immediately guilt-trip you into understanding that you’re the only one who understands him. That everyone is out to get you, and they’ll take you away from him. And you wouldn’t like that, now, would you?

König:

He’s taken back — what do you mean he needs help? Don’t you realize that this type of love is just normal?

But as he listens to you, he somehow takes it, in his own delusional way, that you must be afraid of him. That his suffocating coddling, and continuous dog-following patterns are too much, and you’re just nervous. There’s no need to be, okay?

He nods along, before interrupting you that he understands you; taking a whole different approach as he starts to talk about how maybe you’re afraid of commitment. He reassures you that there’s no need to be because he’s yours and you’re his.

König, in a simple way, completely ignores your wishes and turns it around to you being afraid. In his head, possibly you’re the one who requires help, no?

He means no harm — and immediately jumps up as the ‘husband’ as he is. Taking care of you, making sure you’re well satisfied. Isn’t that what a lover does? Isn’t this what you wanted? He loves you far too well.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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teencopandthesourwolf · 7 months

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He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do.

He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him.

Was it Laura?

Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.

She didn't tell him she was going before she left New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone, because she'd known without a doubt that Derek would only follow her if she'd have said a single word to him.

Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to. The desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things, they all went unheard.

Laura left to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.

Leaving the way they did meant they hadn't gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house. They couldn't mark graves, or grieve properly.

That same place also happened to be the place they'd been born, the place they'd grown up and called home.

Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.

The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.

The thought still haunts him. One of so fucking many.

Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell Laura they were all gone because of him, tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.

In the aftermath of the fire Laura hugged Derek, and had kept hugging him, over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed. She would pull him into her arms hold him tight, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him again.

Alpha.

Big sister.

But Laura only knew about some of the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing.

He never told her about Kate.

And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed Laura to hold him, feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his parents. His family. His pack.

Now, he remembers that last time.

“I'm going out.”

Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him.

It always took him a moment to respond these days, but Derek hugged her back.

“What's this for?”

“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight, you won't be asking for one of these.”

Oh, fuck no. Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again, not after…

He pushed his sister off him, gently; a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed.

“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you, Laura—I don't sleep in anybody's fucking bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek had so many shameful memories, and crawling into his sister's bed every night for the first year after the fire was one of them. “Just—leave me alone.”

Laura was the one—the only—person Derek had left in the entire world, yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away.

“Then where do you go to all these nights, little brother? You might not be clinging to me anymore, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, but you're so rarely in your own bed in the mornings.” She hadn't meant it as a dig. She was his sister and she loved him.

Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people. Moving on.

Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars, hanging around in back alleys and dark places, desperately trying to find scumbags he could taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.

Derek hated being a werewolf, now. He wanted to get hurt and stay hurt.

“Just—out.”

Then Derek turned his back on Laura, leaving her to stand there and watch him walk away as he left her to go out looking for a fight, without looking back.

That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.

It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since.

Now here he is, standing in his big stupid loft that he bought for his betas—yet another pack he managed to destroy—having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping themselves as far around his shoulders as they can reach.

Stiles.

“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.

He knows all about those.

“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs it—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it.

But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back, feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck.

Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”

And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.

More confidently, now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist and hugs Stiles tighter, properly, and allows himself to be hugged back.

Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. Lived without this kindness.

He decides to let the 'dude' pass. Because maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude?

Stiles's dude.

It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less.

“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."

Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And, ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again.

for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)

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generalsmemories · 4 days

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HELLOO THEREE!! i love how dedicated you to jing yuan!! Can i have req for 1k event???

Fluff sentences "8" + fluff scenarios "4"!!

Thank you so much!!

I keep looking forward to your JY work!!

Bedrest

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: Not letting the sick one move an inch + playing with their hair until they fall asleep & "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me." "And you're just going to get worse if I don't" || 1k event also requested by @/thetwinkims

✧ content: fluff, established relationship, i swear it's just fluff like for once there's no hidden angst over here.

✧ a/n: hello fellow jing yuan lovers, i'm still alive. this was once again written at 1 AM and not edited at all so if there's any writing mistakes, no there isn't. the initial plan was to keep this one in the drafts while I also write other WIPS to feel productive but i have honestly starved ya'll for months at this point i'm so sorry i'm back with milk.

have soft jing yuan just giggling, is he delirious, sleepy or just in love? we don't know.

If you could describe Jing Yuan in one word other than mischievous, it would be stubborn. The General of the Xianzhou Luofu is too stubborn for his own good, you don't know if this stubbornness of his is rooted in his desire to protect Luofu from danger, or from the fact that he just dislikes when people wish for him to do something in particular.

In any case, his stubborn and mischievous nature could very well be linked to that of a feline - which he himself has been told that he share similar traits of, despite being fully human.

You just wished that he would be less stubborn when it also came to his health.

"Jing Yuan, how many times have I told you to just lay down…!" you say whilst gritting your teeth, using almost every ounce of your strength to push the general back down on the bed. Jing Yuan merely lets out a quiet chuckle, still trying "playfully" wrangling with you. "I'm injured, not sick, dear." he says, to which you merely roll your eyes in exhaustion.

Jing Yuan truly loves it when you finally forego your usual gentle demeanour to a more brazen one. It's usually a side of you that only he can see, more so because he's the only one who can annoy you enough to make you realize that gentle words and probing won't get you anywhere.

"I don't think someone with a temperature of 40 degrees is only injured, darling. Now can you please just lay down before you reopen your wounds?" you plead once again, pressing the heels of your palms further down Jing Yuan's broad shoulder which shook in quiet laughter at your desperate struggle.

"I'm wide awake after having taken numerous naps because per your request though?" he informs, finally settling back down on the bed which finally allows you to lean back to sit on the edge of the bed again. "Last time you insisted that you were fine, I had to get Mimi to help haul you up the stairs because you could barely move." you remind him with a huff, Jing Yuan turning over on his side to face you, his already messy bangs sweeping over to the side to almost cover his right eye.

He didn't say anything, his arm was still laid behind his head to act as another form of cushion while the other rested lazily over the bedsheets. You could however see the golden eyes peering deeply into your own between the grey strands. A silent request that he didn't dare utter to you.

Jing Yuan rarely requested things from you after all.

With a sigh, you turn your body over and hoist your knees over the bed. Nudging Jing Yuan's arm aside with your hands, "Move them." you quietly demand, the same golden eyes that were peering at you blinking in slight confusion. "What for?" he questions softly while moving his arm upwards.

You don't reply, merely raising the thin blanket up to lay down beside Jing Yuan - making sure that you were hoisted a bit higher up than he was. You snake one arm around Jing Yuan's neck, a silent request to make him scoot closer to you.

When he's close enough, you hook your chin over his head while pressing his face towards your chest, the other arm wrapping around his hair. "There we go."

A few beats of silence passes by, you can feel Jing Yuan take in a few more breaths than normal whilst his eyelashes brush against the material of your shirt, the material thin enough to feel every movement of his face that's pressed against the upper part of your torso.

And then he's shaking in another quiet chuckle, "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me at this point, darling." he says, and yet the arms that snake around your waist and the way he snuggles deeper into your chest indicates that he won't let you go now that he got you within his grasp.

He can tell that you're rolling your eyes yet again. You decide to answer his jab with a small peck on top of his head, mostly focusing your attention to the locks of hair in between your fingers, curling a particular strand around your finger whilst your other thumb is busy rubbing soothing circles at his hipbone. "And you're just going to get worse if I don't."

The general merely huffs out a laugh, replying to the peck on his head with kiss against your shirt. "You spoil me way too much." is the last thing he whispers, before he quickly falls into a deep slumber.

Because you both know that Jing Yuan truly never sleeps unless you're near him.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #star rail x reader #star rail x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #x reader #reader insert #generalmemories 1k event

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mikuyuuss · 17 days

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I love that Mitsuri is a little silly and stupid at times, shes a girlboss AND a girlfailure to me <3 but apparently there are some people that genuinely dislike her for those things? I understand Mitsuri's character isn't for everyone, BUT WAIT, HEAR ME OUT.

I've always had this headcanon that Mitsuri had a somewhat sheltered childhood growing up, since In the Rengoku Gaiden, she randomly got discriminated by a stranger for her hair color, so I can only imagine that she probably got that on a daily basis.

I'm sure Mitsuri's parents don't enjoy seeing their eldest daughter bring harassed, so perhaps they might have coddled her a bit. Maybe that could explain why Mitsuri comes off as childish, innocent or """"stupid"""" as many people would say. For me, it's more like her personality just screams "sheltered kid", through no fault of her own tho.

(this is taken from the second fanbook, translated by @/violetheart08)

The fact that she's happy to have friends at the corps, suggests to me that she probably didn't have many friends growing up, she most likely got bullied too, and if that's the case, it's understandable that she can come across as overly friendly and excitable whenever she's befriending new people.

She's actually socially awkward like Giyuu, but just on the opposite end of the spectrum lol, that's why I love them both.

But still, it's not that Mitsuri is straight up incompetent. She's very creative and thinks outside of the box with her breathing style. She also adapts pretty well in high stress situations, we saw this in swordsmith arc, but also we see this very clearly in the Rengoku Gaiden too.

The fact that it only took her two years to become a hashira shows that she has a level of discipline to attain that title. Not only did Rengoku trained her well, this is also no feat that a truly "stupid" person can achieve.

The reason why I have this particular headcanon about Mitsuri is because some families do put A LOT of importance on reputation, especially asian families, when their kids start showing traits that would make them "different" they tend to "hide" the kids in order to protect their reputation so they won't lose their chances at marriage.

(Though I'm not saying all asian families are like this. This is mostly just based on my personal experience that I won't elaborate further)

It reminded me of this scene, when Mitsuri's family suggested that she can just stay with them forever when she was worried that she won't be able to find someone. I love Mitsuri's parents and they are VERY GREAT for their time, but also this is really relatable to me personally :(

And given how marriage was such a big deal in Taisho era, I imagine that it was a mixture of that and the pressure to conform and protect their daughter at the same time that led me to imagine that Mitsuri probably had a sheltered lifestyle.

And you know it's possible that I'm wrong about all of these lmao, but just the fact that she has a comparably normal childhood is a good enough reason as to why she's more positive and naive compared to her peers. I know this is all just a headcanon, but I do wish people can be a bit more considerate towards Mitsuri before hating on her for being "loud" "stupid" and "annoying"

#my post #me speaks #kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny meta #meta #ish #mitsuri kanroji #kanroji mitsuri #sincerely a former sheltered kid who grew up with an even more sheltered sibling #Got called dumb and stupid more than once had trouble making friends and had to learn social skills the hard way #mitsuris relatability is slept on #me thinks #I just dont see her personality as some generic ditzy anime girl 101 #for me it kinda makes sense for her to be that way given the setting and her background

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edgeray · 3 months

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“LATE NIGHT DEVIL, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME

and never never never ever let go”- Teeth, 5 Seconds of Summer

Mafia AU! Arlecchino x Reader Oneshot

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've actually published anything on here. Well, my gay ass is back with another oneshot. This one has been in the works for at least a month. I'm considering making a Part 2, but that will definitely take at least a couple weeks for me to publish (if not months). I wish I was kidding. School literally hates me and my teachers are incessant on killing my GPA. This is also a gift for @megistusdiary because it'll be her birthday when I post this. Please go check out her blog for amazing genshin wlw content (especially Arlecchino content!) Would you guys like this on AO3 as well?

Content Warning/Info: This is a long af oneshot (6.3k words), long af descriptions and kinda long intro, Arlecchino is referred to with they/them pronouns, implied female but no usage of feminine pronouns for Reader, general dark-ish content, pet names, Arlecchino is a lil scary, I've never been to a club so I apologize for the very inaccurate information, nor have I ever been apart of the mafia so also inaccurate, a bit suggestive but otherwise sfw, if I'm missing anything feel free to tell me!

---

Monsters are said to have lied underneath beds–waiting to ensnare an unknowing victim–or stalk hidden among the depths of a closet–awaiting an opportune moment to strike its next prey. Monsters are fabled entities that are used to scare off children from bad behavior and are quickly eased from the mind by coddling parents. The mere notion of a monster shooed away like a pesky fly, swept underneath the subconscious like forgotten specks of dirt.

You know otherwise. Real monsters don’t lurk on the undersides of mattresses; no, they lurk both in the skies above and the depths below. They do not stalk dark closets because they instead stalk alleys in daylit streets. Monsters are very real, that you know is true since you’ve seen your fair share of them. You’ve met monsters in person–they’ve come to you before. Terrifying is an understatement for them, and each time one has appeared as a client, you’re no less scared shitless.

You’ve learned that even inhumane demons find themselves in need of entertainment; like the sinful creatures they are, they seek self-pleasure. And that is how you found yourself in this particular circle of hell, meant to serve and please demons, devils, and monsters alike. Perhaps it was a revolting job, working at a strip club run by a criminal organization but it paid decent money for being danced on the fingertips of whoever you were unfortunate enough to be assigned to.

If it was a regular strip club, being an exotic dancer would have been fine. It wouldn't be so bad. Lustful and prying eyes can be accustomed to quickly, and so are the flattering compliments and the awkward flirting by middle-aged married men. However, there was a difference between lecherous and predatory gazes. Here, you aren’t even viewed as a person, no, the clients here, those that come in reeking of smoke or blood (though sometimes both), armed with knives and guns on their person, see you as nothing more than a toy or prey for them. Even in the eyes of your employer, you're less than human in their eyes.

‘You harm our merchandise, you’ll pay for it,’ is the warning given to every guest when they first enter. Merchandise. That's what you are. And that single line of words is the only thing that assures you of your safety among mafia members, gangsters, crooks, and whatnot. You've heard that the organization behind this strip club does well in enforcing that rule according to other dancers, but you personally don't want to see if the statement is true. You've been here for a little over a year, and besides bruising grips and pulled hair you’ve surprisingly yet to be seriously injured in any way. So maybe monsters do have a little humanity in them.

You're quickly growing to be a fan favorite as of recently, which means more money goes your way, but you're not sure how you feel about all the attention on you. It's most likely because of how often you offer private dances and private rooms to clients. Whatever gets you the most money; the faster you make money the faster you can pay off your debt and be out of here.

Tonight is supposed to be no different from other nights. You perform on stage, you rile up the crowd, you get showered in tips, and if there is a customer that looks mentally sane enough not to murder you in private, you take them to the back. Except, tonight, you're approached by your boss, who informs you that the entirety of the club was reserved by the Fatui, a well-known mafia more powerful and larger than the one that backs you up, for some celebration. These kinds of occurrences in the club rarely crop up, but when they do, they're often the most opportune time to bag in an abundant amount of money. Big shots like the Fatui pay and tip well, but there's one unsaid risk that comes with this: as a mere dancer like yourself, your life quite literally dangles in the Fatuis’ hands tonight. The organization that owns this establishment can't retaliate against the Fatuis if they so choose to dismiss the warning. They can't even compare to the might of the Fatui.

Simply put, if a Fatui kills you tonight, no one could do more besides bat their eyelashes. You're not at all pleased with this predicament of practically bordering on death, especially when you know one wrong move with one too hot-tempered Fatui could land you at the pearly gates. Keep pleasing the crowd, keep entertaining them, keep racking in the money, you remind yourself as you continue your dance, twirling around the pole sensually, and the customers devour every movement with their eyes. The only comfort you're given is that you've heard the Fatui are quite reasonable and diplomatic most of the time. This is especially true for the Harbingers, you've heard, the twelve most elite members that serve under the Tsaritsa, and the ones that are the most exclusive customers this night. That doesn't mean the Harbingers are any more humane than the average crook. Having worked in a strip club run by the mafia and surrounded by criminal organizations, the more rumored something is, the more dangerous it is. They can be considered devils amongst demons even. That's simply how vile they're supposed to be.

The most concerning problem about the Harbingers is that you don’t know what they look like, only the occasional whisper has alluded to how to distinguish between the twelve. Perhaps, you can survive through the night if you try not to draw too much attention; let the other dancers shine instead and hope you don’t get requested for a private room or dance. That way, you can ensure you don’t end up dead.

Your time to go upstage comes sooner than you’re prepared for. Your hands are clammy, and your form trembles in a way that only happened during your first month. Both reactions don’t make for a very good combination when your survival relies on you not fucking up and disappointing criminal customers. As you approach the pole, just like every time you’ve done, you make sure that the crowd’s gazes are in the backdrop of your mind, and instead, fixate on repeating the movements you’ve been taught and have mastered with your experience. Bet your survival on the provocative sway of your hips, the practiced showcase of your legs, and the allure of your dancing form. Beguile the crowd, but not too much, just enough to wow them. From what you can tell by the volume of the crowd, you’re doing a good job pleasing the Fatui enough. Your body stops tremoring after a few minutes on stage, and with one last final push of courage, you focus your eyes on the crowd before you.

Unsurprisingly, the makeup of the Fatui are men, though there are notably quite a few women. Either way, all of their attention is on you. As your eyes scan across a crowd, for one reason or another, you stop at a particular set of eyes near the back of the crowd. Intent, pitch-black abysses stare back, like they were trying to bore into your soul and devour every single motion of yours. They don’t quite hold the same ravenous desire as many of those before you right now, you mentally note with curiosity. It feels like your form is being calculated, in the way a predator would cautiously observe their next prey, a sensation you’ve experienced a few times, but each is no less chilling. The weight of their engrossed gaze causes you to shiver momentarily, and you snap away from their disturbing gaze to prevent any fumbling or faltering while you’re on stage.

Tonight marks the first time you actively seek out the same viewer while on stage, or even, during your entire time here. For some reason, you feel awfully bold, or curious, whichever two comforts you more, and unlike the meek little rabbit you usually are, you instead search for the viewer’s gaze. You find the pair of eyes with relative ease, as you remember that above their eyes are distinctive snow-white strands with streaks as black as their orbs. You take a moment to study them, and they remind you of a lion–or lioness–among hyenas. The aura they exude varied quite a bit compared to the other Fatui in front of you: not rambunctious, or arrogant; it's apparent they held an aura of indomitable authority just from the way they held themselves. Perfect posture with their clasped hands nested in their lap, with one leg raised over the other. They’re an embodiment of perfected elegance, however, much like a porcelain doll, they’re also expressionless, their appearance unmarred. You don’t examine the Fatui’s form for much longer because their scrutiny on you pricks at your skin irritatedly.

You don’t look for them again throughout your performance. In fact, you hope you never meet those charcoal pits again. You’re afraid that if you do, you’ll be ensnared by whatever beastly claws or fangs you know that Fatui hides underneath that impenetrable mask. The moment your time on stage ends, you rush back to the changing room to shake off your nerves. You sit down at a nearby chair, taking in deep sighs as you attempt to forget how you were stared down like a you were cornered, defenseless animal. And that is what you are, as much as you hate it. There’s nothing that can protect you from the Fatui. Maybe if you hide, never show your face for the rest of the night, they’ll forget they ever saw you and they’ll target another dancer. Surely, that will work, won’t it?

You’re able to steady your breathing before you can delve into a panic attack. Tonight, you decide, you’re not going to take any customers to any private rooms or take any private dances. You’d be missing out on a lot of money, but your life is more of a priority as of currently; not after the ‘encounter’ with that individual, you don’t want to think about how many more are just like them, hiding in the crowd like they were awaiting an opportunity to pounce on your vulnerable form.

Unfortunately, it seems like someone else has other plans for you because your manager storms into the room asking for your whereabouts before his eyes narrow on you. You immediately sit up, stiff as a board when he practically marches his way towards you.

"Someone wants you."

You sigh and shake your head. You should have known. "Not tonight."

He clicks his tongue. "You know I can't allow that tonight."

You bite your lip. "Just pass them to someone else."

"They're not someone you or I can refuse."

"Who?" You question with a shuddering breath, your nails digging into your thigh.

"The fourth one. The Knave. Lord Arlecchino."

Fuck your life. You might as well pull the trigger now. You’ve heard faint whispers of each Harbinger from the customers audacious enough to speak of them. The youngest, the eleventh, charming and boyish. The ninth, money-obsessed but a pretty looker. The eighth, elegant and cold, yet no less alluring. The seventh, as human-like as their robotic creations, which to say isn’t very. The sixth, is hotheaded and mysterious. The fifth, unknown. And the fourth?

Insane. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. That’s how the fourth is described. You shiver at the horrors that appear on the forefront of your mind when imagining what may come for you. If you're lucky, you'll be alive at the end of the night, more than likely clinging to the edge of living.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Get ready as soon as you can.”

And you do. It’s not long until you stand in front of the private room’s door, your guest is already inside more than likely. The Fourth Harbinger is waiting, you remind yourself, fruitlessly trying to swallow down your stress. You can be dead the minute you step inside, this room could be marked as your grave. Whatever he tells you to do, you’ll obey wordlessly to survive. Just nod along, smile, and do whatever it is that he tells you regardless of the demand. You inhale deeply, regaining some ease of mind, before you bring your knuckles to the door, knocking.

“Come in,” comes a deep, flat voice, slightly muffled by its distance but what surprises you is how feminine the Harbinger sounds. Maybe you got the wrong room. You glance back at the room number plate on the door, and it’s the room you remember your manager mentioning. It’s the right room. Maybe someone else? You don’t have time to wonder, however, as you enter the room, knowing that if it is the Fourth, it wouldn’t be wise to keep him (Her? Them? You’ll just stick with ‘them’ now.) waiting.

“Lord Arlecchino?” You inquire as you enter the room, closing the door behind you. Sucking in a harsh inhale, you instantly recognize their distinct hair. It’s them. Your sight is immediately greeted by the figure sitting on the couch before you, sitting in exactly the same way you discovered them–crossed-legged and lounging back with unfaltering confidence. The Knave wears a scarlet blazer over a black compressed turtleneck, with a matching set of crimson leggings. Upon closer inspection, you’re able to make out red irises in their jet-black eyes. Despite the blatant and literal red flag, something about their appearance draws you in even when they scream danger. They’re… you’re not quite sure how to describe them. You admire the unblemished and pale skin, their elegant and rugged demeanor is like the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity. Are they beautiful, or are they handsome? You think both.

Arlecchino stares back at you like they’re considering devouring you then and there. You can’t suppress the shudder that runs down your spine. You’re a sheep before a wolf. There’s something so chilling about them that even with your experience with other clients, none has ever made you feel this way with just their mere gaze alone. This is what separates the average crook from one of the most powerful mafia members you've ever heard of.

You wait for a response but they only continue to observe you. You take the silence as confirmation to your question and that they’re anticipating something from you. Biting back a sigh of resignation, your hands hook underneath the band of your bra top and you lift it just the slightest amount before a cutting voice makes you freeze.

“What are you doing?” the Harbinger demands, their tone chilling and apathetic, making you want to shrink in yourself immediately. Your blood pumps loudly in your ears and your hands tremble a bit. Something about how designing their gaze makes you suddenly self-aware in a way you’ve never felt before another client–you’re practically half-naked in front of them with your skimpy bra top, undergarments, and fishnets and now is the only moment that you've actually considered how little covering is on you.

Why are they stopping you? Isn’t this what they wanted you to do? Or maybe they just want to do it themselves. Those types of customers always have the most bruising of grips and suffocating of holds. You stiffen at the notion. How are you going to survive this night with a Fatui Harbinger of all things? How many of your limbs are going to be fractured and how many of your bones are going to end up broken?

“I…I’m undressing,” your meek voice sounds out and you hate the crack in your speech. The Harbinger continues to scrutinize you. You don’t dare continue disrobing yourself.

There are several beats of wordless response before they then stand up from the couch.

Oh shit. You’ve fucked up. Are they going to kill you now? Is this your end?

Every thought is telling you to run in the opposite direction as they stalk up to you, but you're petrified as you realize with a chill that they’re taller than you. You’re not short by any means, a bit above average height, but they tower over you, looking down at you from above and casting judgment on you like a god. Once they stride toward you, you avoid eye contact by looking straight, observing their neck and clavicle that protrudes from underneath the fabric. You tense when they raise a hand, their manicured fingers placing themselves underneath your chin and long, carmine nails dig into the underside of your jaw, making you wince. They forcefully tilt your head, raising your focus onto their face.

It’s like they plunged their hands down your throat and ripped out the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you unable to breathe. Up close, the first thing you notice is their lips, plump and red from their lipstick. Briefly, you wonder what color their lipstick would look on your skin. Then your eyes travel up, red-crossed eyes gaze back at you and you gape quietly at the distinct shape of their pupils. You swear that their pupils flash red as you finally lock eye contact with them.

“Did I tell you to?” Their tone is cold compared to the strange softness of their handsome (beautiful?) face.

Something in your gut coils inwardly and you want to look away, but their firm hold on your chin prevents you. You bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. You’re delicate glass in their hands, and they can break you so, so easily.

“No, sir.” Only the numerous times you’ve said this phrase ensures you don’t stumble over your words. They don’t answer promptly, but as they observe your features, their lips quirk up the slightest amount.

“You know how to address me. Very good,” Arlecchino purrs after several beats of silence, in a low, oh-so-sultry tone, and oh. Oh.

You’re not sure why, but their last two words make your stomach churn, but not in a discomforting way. In the way that lights a fire underneath your skin and spreads heat to every part of your body. You’ve never quite felt this way with another customer. You couldn’t believe that your body reacts this way just from a single praise but it doesn’t stop the pooling heat in your bowels. The chill down your spine still remains in place, but there’s an off-putting equilibrium of iciness and fervor generated from the client.

The Fatui’s eyes stay fixated on you wordlessly until the hand on your chin turns your head, finally breaking you free of their intense behold. Their grip slackens so that they can trace their nails gently down your throat, every inch of surface their fingertips brush against ignites a blaze on your skin. A shuddering exhale leaves your lips and it seems like they take notice because from the corner of your eye, the small uptick of their mouth grows. Despite how sensual and probing the Harbinger’s touch feels, there’s nothing lecherous about it–purely just intrigue and fascination. It’s a touch you both have and never experienced before. Cold nails rake against your throat, not enough to mark or scratch, but enough to invoke shivers.

You’re aware you should be terrified, but for a reason you can’t pin down, you can’t jerk away from their touch. You try to reason with yourself it was only because you’re one upset away from getting yourself killed but that reasoning falls apart when their hand gingerly traces your jawline and you make the softest of groans, a barely audible noise of content. Unfortunately for you, the sound seems to have reached Arlecchino’s ears and their expression softens slightly: their eyes narrow less and their brows aren’t as creased. And that smirk–if you could even call it that from how faint it is–becomes a half-smirk.

They pull their hand away and your trance is broken, reality returning back to you as you remember that the person before you is still a Fatui Harbinger, no matter how bizarrely melting their touch was. They turn on their heel and walk towards the couch in front of you; the slightest bit of heaviness is placed on your heart. You remain stationary where you are, observing them as they seat themselves gracefully on the couch, and their attention encounters yours again. Their black pits hold expectancy in them. At first, you’re clueless as to what the criminal desires from you, but then their legs spread apart, an inviting gesture that beckons you and every rational thought leaves your easily swayed mind. Your heart skips a beat, and you're sure this time it's not out of trepidation.

Even if you didn’t command them to, your legs would take you to their seating figure. You stand before them, feeling blatantly disrespectful to look down at Arlecchino, but you await their order. They lean back, lounging laxly against the couch, their posture never lacking their usual self-assurance. It only ties the knot in your gut tighter. You’re aware of what they’re instructing you to do, but the absent confirmation makes you hesitant. It seems like the Knave picks up on this because the room echoes with one definitive spouted word from their lips, authority and dominance ringing through their husky voice.

“Sit.”

Your legs buckle underneath you from the one-worded response, the demand only stoking the consuming fire inside you. Eager to please, you perch yourself on their lap, straddling them, your knees pressed into the furniture below you and encasing both of their thighs between your own.

Oh, you think to yourself as your legs make contact with their thighs. They're firm. And for some reason, that provokes your stomach to churn in itself even more. You're so close to them, enough to feel their breath cascade against your skin.

As you seat yourself, you nearly clumsily topple over, instinctively grasping onto their shoulders for support. Their shoulders are remarkably broad, you regard, well-muscled as well. Their hands creep up on your hips, steady but gentle hands grasping on each bare side of yours to stabilize you. The heat that radiates from their hands is infectious, regardless of the nails that burrow into your plush waist. For the first time, you flush considerably, a sweltering inferno forming in your cheeks and your head fills with dizziness. Their touch is gentle–something you rarely experience with customers–so, so gentle that you would describe it as heavenly. How can someone so inexplicably vile have heaven on their fingertips?

It's not a position you never found yourself in. In fact, it's far from the first time you've been like this with another client. But here, as you're sat on top of the Fatui Harbinger, and red x-pupils search yours, a foreign feeling passes through you. Placing your finger on it, you dubiously think it's bashfulness, but the heartbeat that sings in your ears and pulses underneath your fingertips tells you otherwise, tells you it's something more. Against that, you remove your grasp on their shoulders and place your palm flat against the couch’s surface behind the Knave.

You squirm a bit, nervousness in your form as you remain as still as you possibly can, waiting for any more instructions. All you need to do is act like an obedient doll for them in order to survive; compliance is the best way of ensuring survival with people like these. You feel like you're merely eye candy from the way that their attention flits across your body, but you're immobile throughout the entirety of their observance. Being looked at is much better than any physical interaction. Their hands still cup your hips, but slowly, they descend to the side of your thighs, making your skin feel tingly.

Impulsively, you mumble out a quiet "Sir…" as strange sensations brush against your skin.

The sound surprises you and you feel on edge as their eyes travel from your lower half to your face. You gulp considerably. From their stare, they expect more of a response, a reason for their addressment, but even you don’t know yourself; it seems like an unconscious calling that just rolled off your tongue. You cow underneath their gaze, even when the two of you are at eye level. When you linger in quietude, their hand releases one of your thighs and lifts to your face, supporting your chin while their thumb rests on your bottom lip, unfurling it just the slightest amount to implore an answer from your now parted lips. Gleaming scarlet pupils grip your regard sternly, piercing into you and instilling you to spew something out. Except, you still can’t, now too entranced and lost in the crimson.

“Doll.”

Despite the pet name, it's devoid of any affection or warmth. It's a word that drips of command, a reminder of your place: simply a toy that they can play with however they want, a manipulated and decorated plaything for their amusement. That means you answer to them, and so when they request a response, you're under the obligation to please them. Your survival is in their palms anyway, if they wanted you to dance, you would just so they wouldn’t strangle the life out of you.

However, its implication doesn’t prevent the tingling shudders that wrack your body nor the involuntary clenching of your thighs around theirs. Was it the gravelly voice that aroused your behavior? Your cheeks flare at the knowledge that Harbinger sensed the physical reaction. It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible, your thoughts repeat, but then they're interrupted by:

"Oh?" Arlecchino inquires to themselves, a stark amusement in their speech. Their red glare illuminates slightly, replacing the lost darkening with a faint glow in their pupils, and the corner of their mouth curls up. It is only then that you discover something entirely new: that monsters can be sinfully, cataclysmically, terrifyingly beautiful and the sight before you is the most exquisite example. A devil has you wrapped in its claws and its fangs readied for devouring but it’s disguised as an ethereal angel; blinded by their perilous allure, you mistake their snow-white hair, their lustrous piercing rubies, their flawless porcelain skin, and their burning, fleeting touches as traits of a seraph. From a measly smirk, you forget the atrocities lying underneath their fingertips and dismiss the hazard their presence holds.

The hand on your thigh rakes its fingers up, red nails trailing across the surface of your fishnet, wrenching out a breathy gasp from you as they travel inwards. Tingling pleasure injects into your veins as you subconsciously lean in, imploring for further sensual contact. A plea sits on your tongue and nests in your eyes as you beg them through your pitiful expression. They drink in your desperation with a slow swipe of their tongue over their lips, and that single action is debauched enough to elicit a soft groan from your throat.

“Well, aren’t you an amusing toy?” They drawl out with a preposing rasp and dark abysses glint with an insatiable hunger.

They smirk enticingly, their thumb running across your bottom lip and smearing your lipstick on their thumb pad. Their grip on your chin tightens a bit, pulling you even closer to them before a shadow casts over you when their face nears. Before you can even fathom their intentions, they descend upon you, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips are greeted with something pillowy soft and fervently warm, and you sharply inhale from the sensation. Every one of your nerves sings frenziedly, your muscles tense all over, and your heartbeat drums deafeningly in your ears–all of this as your body is engulfed in a fervid tornado of heat that makes you lightheaded with pleasure. It takes you several beats to realize the reason for this is that Lord Arlecchino, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave is kissing–no, kissing is far too intimate, devouring–you voraciously like they're trying to rob you of any air, trying to imprint themselves on your mouth. Their mouth dominates yours, pushing against them with a deep fervor and famished urgency, eager to swallow every bit of shocked noise you make.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to indulge.

You first taste lipstick with a waxy flavor hitting your tastebuds. It’s cold against your lips, yet warm at the same time. But the physical texture and flavor of their lips are irrelevant; there’s only one true manner you would distinguish their taste:

They taste like sin.

The type of sin that’s chocolate coated and sprinkled with colorful toppings; depravity so sweet and charming it makes you reconsider the bounds of right and wrong. Degeneracy is far, far tastier than anything you’ve indulged in before. How can something so evil be so heavenly? Cushiony soft, placidly warm, flatteringly zealous, it’s like having a dance with a devil; so unequivocally immoral but no less gratifying. You question if they really belong to the Fatui because how can something like this come from such? You want to engrave the texture of their mouth onto your memory, feel this faux intimacy even when you’ve long parted. The Fourth Harbinger, you surmise as you surrend your will to them, is decadent–the only word that can be defined as both wicked and delectable at once–the perfect word to describe them.

The last remaining bit of reasoning comes to the backdrop of your thoughts and begs you to not be swept away in the heavenly embrace. You discount it in favor of accepting this godsent gift by leaning further with a weak imitation of their ravishing lips and pressing back. It’s a feeble attempt to match their insatiate nature, far too domineering and forceful than you can manage but they display a token of appreciation when they squeeze your thigh, indenting your skin shallowly with the burrowing of their nails. The action exposes just how sensitive you’ve gone underneath their touch and you reward them with the sweetest of sounds.

“Arlecchino,” you mumble with half-lidded dazed eyes in between ravenous exchanges and it evokes a depraved throaty growl from the Fatui, like provoking a call from a starving beast. They lean deeper to indulge in your taste. The gruff sound reaches your ears and it’s like a psalm–you shudder from its musical melody.

Their clutch on your jaw releases and their fingers outline your jawline before snaking to the back of your head. Well-manicured digits entangle themselves in your hair, and there’s a gentle shove against your skull that forces you deeper into the kiss. Your hands clutch onto the couch underneath you as tight as you physically can for any sense of grounding and your knees attempt to close in even more to feel more of their body against yours. The hand on your leg, in turn, caresses the length of your thigh.

Every graceful touch, stroke, and brush exudes an unyielding and infectious warmth that only adds to the stoking fire in your gut, and you’re bathed in so much swelter from the ecstasy that you feel dizzy. Yet, you never want it to end, you grow more addicted and drunk with each encounter of their lips. That, paired with your strained breathing, prompts your stamina to falter much sooner than the Harbinger’s. You let out a soft whine to signal your depleting oxygen, and their mouth unlatch with yours, pulling away despite your ache for more. With the separation comes a small string of saliva attached between the two of you, evidence of the shared intimacy that’s snapped when they lick their lips. The hand behind your head detangles from your hair and you silently mourn over the loss of contact.

You heave for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You’re a little perturbed when you notice that they’re not even out of breath, a small but firm reminder that they’re as inhuman as humans can be. That knocks a sense of reality back into you. Customer, mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, it comes back to you like a train. Here you are swapping spit with them while in the lap of potentially the most dangerous criminal you could ever meet, but fuck were they a good kisser–you’ve never experienced anything that came close to this in your lifetime.

Any foolish doubtful contemplation of the morality of this interaction is swept away just like that when you hear:

“Greedy little thing that you are,” they regard with the most cunning and handsome of smiles, discrete amusement dripping from their words. Their dark pits behold you entirely, the same way they have always done when it seems like they were contemplating what part of you to savor the most. Only this time, you’re not so disturbed by the notion. If anything, the swirling heat in between your legs suggests the opposite.

Greedy wasn't a word often associated with you, yet you couldn't more correctly describe yourself in that moment. Greedy. Greedy for a Fatui Harbinger no less. As ashamed as you should be, there's no use denying that you crave for their touch, for their gaze, for anything and everything they're willing to give you. You want everything and more. The more you contemplate, the more it seems obvious why you wouldn’t. Are they a devil disguised as an angel, or are they an angel that fell from grace? Regardless, they bring nirvana to you. An incessant desire bubbles inside you, your throat swelling up with an urgent request on the tip of your tongue. Would they allow such a thing if you plead? Would they be offended by your impudence? Would they punish you for such? But the necessity outweighs any reconsideration of your insolence and the supplicant beg tumbles out of your loose lips.

“Can I… touch you please, my Lord?” You croak out, wincing at just how wretched it comes out. The response from them is not immediate as the two of you stew in silence, a building sense of dejection inside of you. The expression on their face noticeably contorts, smile lessening, their brows furrowing, and their red x’s glinting dimly. Their free hand raises to near your neck and you suck in a harsh breath as their fingers enclose around your throat. The mere action sends a stinging reminder to your lust-dazed thoughts about their position, and a chill pierces you.

Mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave–the labels cycle through your thoughts. Though their grip is lax, not exactly suffocating and giving ample space to breathe, their fingertips does acutely jab into your skin, a display of their impressive grip strength. You have no doubt that they can suffocate you with one hand alone, snap your neck, or, as your mind ventures into more harrowing territories, crush your skull. Those thoughts alone has you breathless with anticipation. A heavy weight suddenly appears in your gut, so heavy that you feel like you can’t move so much as a muscle.

Did you just go too far? Was that too much to ask? Was this how you were going to die?

The reflex to gag and inhale combat each other in your throat, a discomforting sensation that crawls up your spine while you tremble. You’re almost certain that the nails have penetrated the layer of skin, drawing beads of blood that’ll trail down your mark. You whimper at the prickly pain. Yet, in all your unease, the most masochistic thought arrives briefly at the forefront, and you can’t help but consider: this position is just as intimate as all the other interactions. You’re already so vulnerable in their lap, does the hand around your neck change your peril in any way? No, you’ve been a defenseless lamb to a slaughter the moment you’ve stepped into the domain of a menacing wolf.

Ah. Even now, you can’t dismiss the warmth of their fingertips.

“Do you still want to touch me when I do this?” They demand callously, their voice harsh and reverberating through the room. Their grasp closes more around, and you feel your supply of oxygen inhibited. Tears begin to brim your eyes, but you’re undeterred. Unlike Arlecchino’s, your answer is instant and breathless. Your eyes intently lock on theirs, the hardened expression enough to satisfy their question. There’s no need for contemplation. Danger, you determine, is addicting.

“Yes.”

The previously small smile stretches across their lips considerably. Content, or dare you say it, thrill writes itself over their face and the boulder previously pressed against your shoulders is lifted. Your throat is freed from their hold, but their touch doesn’t halt there. Instead, they rotate your head for you to face to the left, exposing your side profile to them. From the corner of your eyes, you watch as their face draws closer to your skin, hot breath cascading across the small dents her nails created. The one on your thigh finally leaves, moving to one of your hips, tender strokes across your flushed surface. They lean forward, and moist, plush skin meets yours. Lips traverse over the length of your neck, teeth scraping against, making you weakly groan. It takes all of your will to still your body, only allowing for the Harbinger to do whatever they desire to your form. Their touches are burning, burning, burning–so hot that you wonder if you’re experiencing a heat wave. Peppered kisses follow the edge of your jawbone, all the way up to your earlobe. A wet kiss graces your ear and then the most sinful of statements dignifies your eardrums, like a devil whispering hymns directly into your ear.

“I think I’ll keep you to myself after this.”

A short hum follows afterward.

“If you want to touch me, you’ll have to work for it. You’re only mine for tonight, aren't you? Entertain me. Give me a private dance, doll. After all, you have me for all night.”

---

Link to M-Alexa's amazing art and how I imagine Arlecchino to look like in this oneshot.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fanfics #guys I'm so tired it's 2AM rn #i have school tomorrow guys #i chose to finish this tonight despite the shit ton of homework I have to do #arlecchino brain rot does that to you #def worth it #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #genshin fics #arlecchino smut #edgeray.writes #edgeray.blog

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eelfuneral · 2 months

Text

Tech is a grown man and a special ops pilot. He can drink, use firearms, and care for children. He has male pattern baldness and lines on his face. He is a capable adult and I wish that the fandom treated him like one.

Yes, Tech is autistic and has more issues socializing than everyone else, but that doesn’t mean that he needs to be coddled in-universe or by the fandom. He is a grown man who is perfectly capable of figuring out socializing on his own, even if he stumbles more than others. Other characters not understanding him 100% at all times is a fact of life that Tech is likely well aware of as an autistic adult. He is also capable of making genuine mistakes that hurt others to the same degree that a neurotypical person would, and other characters calling him out on it is not ableist. In fact, it would be super weird and ableist for everyone to assume that he is an uwu baby incapable of understanding how to be unkind.

Tech does not need “protection” from other characters flirting with him. Being attracted to an autistic adult is not inherently predatory, and many autistic adults can and do form romantic and/or sexual relationships. Tech almost certainly knows what romance and sex are, and is capable of deciding how interested he is or isn’t in either topic. Him being autistic doesn’t make him a helpless child incapable of understanding “grown-up” topics, and if he ever feels harassed by another character, then I believe that he would not need any help sticking up for himself. Tech is assertive and blunt. He called Cid ugly TO HER FACE once. He does not need Hunter or Wrecker or whoever to intervene for him if he needs to tell someone no or call them out.

Tech isn’t portrayed as innocent and cutesy in canon, but I see this characterization a lot in fanon and I have a hard time believing that it has nothing to do with his autism. As an autistic person who has had to deal with my own classmates talking to me like I was four months old for a good chunk of my childhood, I can’t say that I love this fandom trend.

#the bad batch #tbb tech #fandom ableism

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yourheart-inmyhands · 25 days

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hey! question/something you could turn into a concept if you wish. do you think yandere scaramouche (fatui era) would act differently than yandere wanderer? or do you think they'd act generally the same? it's so interesting to see peoples interpretations of different versions of scara lol :3

ah this was such a fun concept, i could talk endlessly about the differences between them but i kept it short and sweet for now! i hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including verbal abuse, scaramouche being a douche, delusional behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

There are very noticeable differences between Scaramouche and Wanderer and some that only those close would pick up on. For one, Scaramouche always walked with confidence, drawing attention to himself and commanding everyone’s eyes, Wanderer now prefers a different approach, lingering on the sidelines and watching others, observing.

Scaramouche’s porcelain was pristine, his cracks repaired and his joints flawless. Wanderer is rougher, some small hairline fractures and other larger chunks missing from different parts of him, patched over with bandages for the time being. His joints are no better, with him always in the forest he’s prone to getting dirt and rocks in them, making it not only difficult but also painful to move them. He often has to get assistance in cleaning them.

Those are some of the more noticeable ones, but less noticeable ones are how they would speak to a darling. Scaramouche is rough, standoffish to ensure he isn’t abandoned once more, left behind and forgotten again. Wanderer is snarky, a bit rude, but there’s less of an edge to it. He’s snippy to maintain a facade, not wanting others to see how soft he’s gone despite him being wiped from everyone’s memory.

“You disgusting waste of space, you should be grateful I even spare you a minute of my time. Honestly, what purpose do you serve aside from keeping my bed warm? Pathetic.” Scaramouche doesn’t even look at you as he scoffs out insult after insult, his focus on himself in the mirror as he looks over a crack he’d recently gotten. He’d have to go to that wretched doctor to get it fixed, couldn’t go around looking broken, looking weak.

“You’re in my way, move before I make you.” The crossing of his arms and the annoyed, melodramatic tone of his voice are enough to move you away from the bookcase. Your eyes are wide, an apology caught in your throat as he huffs, grabs a book off the shelf without even pausing to look before stalking off again. It was like he’d done this before. As he walks off though, you can’t help but notice the strange way he moves, his left leg swings strangely, like there was something stopping it from bending all the way when he lifts it. Strange.

Neither are particularly nice or sweet, but you’re more likely to get Wanderer to warm up to you than Scaramouche. The cold-hearted puppet that was a Fatui member didn’t need anyone, nor did he want them, he only wanted power, wanted to be recognized for what he was and what he could do. Wanderer isn’t after that, he’s looking for himself in the trees, hoping that by rescuing another lost child, eliminating a camp of bandits, freeing one more Rishboland tiger from an illegal trap will tell him something. Will give him some hint or clue as to what he was really made for.

Scaramouche works best with a willing darling who is ok with being pushed around, ignored, and verbally degraded. He won’t ever say he loves you, won’t coddle you when you cry or get hurt, won’t buy you gifts or make things for you. But he always returns to bed with you at night, laying beside you as he watches you sleep. He’s above it, but there’s a comfort in watching you sleep, a time where he can just shut his mind down and pretend he’s nothing and no one.

Wanderer works best with a darling who is a little more forceful in asserting themselves, showing up at the bookstore he frequents, following him into the forest to see what he’s up to, asking around about him until word gets back to him and he confronts you about it. It takes a long time for him to open up to you, even more so before he starts to seek you out himself, but slowly he grows to become as much a part of your life as you have his. And he doesn’t entirely hate it.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x male reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x male reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x male reader #yandere wanderer x reader #yandere wanderer x male reader #yandere genshin #yandere wanderer #yandere scaramouche

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truegoist · 9 months

Text

LOVE LANGUAGES - quality time warnings;; gn reader. both of u are downbad(🤢🤢) . u kiss also. 1.3k words

RIN ITOSHI isn’t the most affectionate person by nature, the extreme drive for his soccer carrier has left the man stranded the permanent aggravated expression that runs through the itoshi bloodline definitely doesn’t help

in all senses, rin itoshi is not the one you expect to appear at your door, 4 in the morning.

For a couple of minutes you just stare at eachother, him fully dressed and annoyingly awake; you in your pajamas and hardly aware at your presence on earth.

“It’s my birthday” is what he says simply. “Why are you not ready” Perhaps it’s just you, but the tone in his voice seems even more agitated than usual.

“Ready for what rin?” You can see the white fog of your breath as you exhale, you don’t want to be mean to the boy on his birthday but he really is challenging his chances

“You said we’d hang out at four. It’s already four thirty five and you aren’t even ready” His tone is harsh. Accusing. But in those teal eyes that had always resembled glaciers to you now look melted down, you can tell deep down the reason for his bother is different than your so called lack of punctuality.

You can tell he’s afraid you may have forgotten about a plan that meant so much to him. He’s afraid you may not even care about it, or him. He’s terrified to not mean half as much to one person he cares about.

He won’t ever voice it. But somehow you know, or perhaps you hope that this is what he thinks; that he longs for you as much as you do for him.

It’s stupid really, how your heart fluttered at the sight of him in your door or how you can’t even bring yourself to be properly mad at him.

That’s cute and all but that doesn’t change the fact that you planned to sleep a good 2 more hours.

“Rin” you finally speak again “I meant 4 pm why would you think- How long have you even been awake for?”

A small oh leaves the strikers lips as he looks at you, dumbfounded. It appears that normally people don’t arrange meetings before dawn only occurring to him now.

With the new emotion in his face rin quite resembles a stray puppy, so much you suddenly get the urge to coddle him

“Well do you want to come inside? We can eat breakfast or something”

He trails behind you to kitchen, with how long you’ve two been friends rin knows the way as good as his own and it’s him who takes the lead on your small walk towards kitchen.

crack

The egg falls to the pan with a satisfying sound, normally you’d have gone with something easier like cereal but the mr sportsman seated in your kitchen now is determined to force his stupidly healthy diet onto you as much as he can.

Despite all his protests and attempts to help you have him sat near the table as you prepare everything. It’s half because it’s his special day and half because he’s a complete disaster in kitchen(perhaps more the later than first).

While doing so you’ve been rambling on and on about whatever comes to your mind to fill his silence, on small changes in your life, school, a show you liked, the cute cat you saw on the street yesterday… Perhaps with someone else this could feel like a monologue but it’s different with rin; maybe it’s the way how he always looks so concentrated on whatever you say, or the way he always remembers everything you’ve told to the smallest detail. Or maybe it’s just your feelings for him that make this enjoyable for you

Whatever it is, it’s how it goes between you two: you talk, and he listens. Aside from the cynical remarks here and there, talking isn’t his thing. Even if sometimes you wished it was, you wished that for once he’d be the one to talk, be the one to tell the words you never brought yourself to speak to him.

With a tap on your shoulder that caught you off guard, you almost hit the man on the face. And you probably would’ve if he didn’t caught your hand midair.

Maybe it’s because you were too caught upon telling whatever story you were on or maybe it was because the eerily quiet way rin moves for a man his size but you only notice how close he has gotten to you at this moment.

So you can almost feel the warmth emitting of his skin. So close you can hear his breath. And suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the way your very own heartbeat seems to quicken.

Perhaps it’s because it’s so early in the morning, but there’s something just so romantic about this moment; how close you two are, how the newly setting sunshine dances on his face.

You need serious help.

“Sorry did I bore you?” Once again, you’re the one to break the silence. Yes that must be it, he was just bored with you talking all the time. You should stop dreaming.

He blinks a few times, it’s evident he finds even the suggestion of such idea absurd “I enjoy listening to you (name), I thought you knew that” you hate yourself for it but even those simple words gives you such euphoria that it practically overwhelms you. Plus he still hasn’t let go of your wrist.

You have to leave before you do something seriously stupid. Like pour your heart out to rin itoshi

“That reminds me! I got something for your birthday,” You originally planned to give it to him much later, but you’re desperate and you need out “it’s upstairs if you’d let me go I can just run real quick and ge-”

“Don’t want it”

His grasp on your wrist is now much more firm, it contrasts the previous gentleness of his touch towards you. Rin has always treated you with fragility that it’s only now you realize how strong he actually is.

“I told you I don’t want you to buy me anything” his bright, teal eyes look more like a turquoise as the sun hits them, leaving you captivated by them even in this moment “But if you’re that insistent on giving me something then um…”

His newly found confidence starts to die down as he mutters the next bit “if you really want to gift me…you can give me something else” the last part is said in such low whisper that you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to hear it if weren’t for how close you two are right now. Maybe your eyes are playing a game to you right now but you can see red on his cheeks.

You must be dreaming. Or it’s that you aren’t fully awake right now and can’t think clearly, because there’s no way the rin itoshi is saying what you think he is

Fuck it, you’ve waited long enough

Your pull on him is harsher than you intended, your lips practically to crash to each other but neither of you seem to care. His body is warm against yours, and he tastes of mint.

You’re not sure how long have passed, maybe a few minutes, maybe an eternity. Or perhaps it was just a moment, shorter than one blink.

Before you can even process what just happened, you’re hit with another shock; he is smiling

rin itoshi is smiling. not a know it all “I said so”type of smirk. not a forced one.

But one that creeps bigger and bigger as he stares to you, mimicking the way red blossoms to his cheek. Yours probably aren’t much different right now either

At that moment one sentence slips out of your mouth;

“Happy birthday rin”

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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 10 months

Text

Being His Sibling- Riddle Rosehearts

Idk the idea came to me. Yuu is GN— 6k words

Tws/Cws: Yuu is said to have medium length hair, Riddles mom is expectedly shitty and abusive, Yuu has shady behavior because of shitty abusive mom. Yuu is untrustworthy of Riddles friends for the first half. Hurt/comfort, angst with a good ending. No incest! Just Platonic!

Before NRC:

You were the older sibling of the Rosehearts family. Being the oldest, one of the very first things you have learned since becoming sentient is that a mothers love is no different from a mothers hatred. From the minute you could babble, your mother did everything she could do to control you. You weren’t allowed outside to play, you weren't allowed any snacks no matter how much your stomach rumbled. You weren't allowed to wear fun or silly stuff. And you were never allowed to fail or talk back.

Soon, your mother— the term rotted in your mouth— soon became pregnant again, and your precious little brother Riddle came to be. You remember your father holding you up to see the small bundle of joy in your mothers arms, excited that you may have a playmate. The excitement however, became resentment.

From the minute he was born, you were no longer a priority, usually being ignored in favor of the new addition to the family. Your chatter is ignored, your physical needs pushed aside, and your emotions bottled. Even when you went to talk to your baby brother and interact with him, mother would immediately begin to lecture you for seeing him without her permission, and you were locked away in your room to study. Yet whenever you peeked out, you saw your mother cooing and coddling Riddle, something you never really remember experiencing, but she would never play with the child.

Whenever you heard your mothers footsteps fade into the distance, you would come out to play, giving Riddle all the things you wish you were given. And one day, you heard his first words— your name. “Yu!” The baby gurgled, making you jump. “What did you say?” “Yuuu!” A wobbly smile grew on your face as you hugged the baby, in that moment promising yourself that you would always protect him

As you got older so did your brother, and mother did what she always does, control. But this time it was different. Mother would always praise Riddle for his studies, but never you. She was always lighter on his scolding, when she would scream at you. Though you were also locked away to study, she never really cared about your progress the same way she did Riddle’s. From there started a grudge that you would hold onto. What’s the point of doing anything mom wants when Riddle’s her precious little angel? If you don't matter at all what would it matter if you acted up?

Mother didn’t entertain your rebellious streak for long, the screaming match that came from you simply saying you wanted to go outside instead of reading left a mark on you. “I don’t get you, Yuu! I did everything for you! I cleaned you, I bathed you, I gave you life! I cook and clean for you! Why cant you be more like Riddle!” She screamed. “I'm sorry mama… I'm sorry!” Your child self babbled shakily while sobbing. “I just wanna play outside with the other kids!”

Father stepped in to try and stand up for you, but he got yelled at too. And you remember watching as your potential savior gave up on you, allowing mother to lock you away in your room again. And yet, you could still hear as she walked off, muttering insults under her breath, wondering why she ever had you.

Riddle soon became the age you were when you started ‘acting out’ and since then you’ve learned to be more sneaky. When mom went away you would sneak out to visit him in his room, playfully messing with him and getting him to take a break to play. “Won’t mom get mad?” Riddle asked, looking up at you with big stormy gray eyes. “As long as you don't tell her— that being said,” You dropped to your knees. You knew that even if she found out, you would be the one blamed for it, “Only I can visit you okay? Don’t come into my room..” “Why?” You chuckled, trying to find a believable excuse. “Cause my room is super boring! Seriously you won't like it.” “Oh.. okay!” Riddle beamed, allowing you to distract him from the theory books he’s forced to read, and telling him fairy tales instead to watch his eyes grow big with wonder.

Mom thought that you were no longer a problem. You never spoke up or out, you did as she said with your head bowed down, you always ate what she gave to you no matter how tasteless it was, and you excelled at your studies. Finally, she was relieved that you stopped resisting, not knowing how you actually were,

For months, you snuck out and played with Riddle in his room, even giving him the answers to some of the assignments mother forced him to do. At parties you were forced to attend, you went behind your mothers back to steal some sweets to sneak to Riddle, knowing how much he always wanted to try them. And when he was still hungry from the small portions of food he was given, you would give him yours, ignoring your own stomach just to see your brother beam.

One day however, Riddle came to your room. “What are you doing here? Only I can go into your room remember?” “Well, um, I know but…” Riddle pulled at your hand to guide you to his room. “There's people at my window!” “Really huh?” “Mmhmm!” Going into his room, you saw two figures peeking through. Both young boys, one a feline beast man with bright pink hair and a stunning smile, and the other a green haired boy with glasses closer to your age.

“They said they want me to play with them but I said I had to ask you first. Can I play with them? Please please please, Yuu?” Riddle pouted, and a pang of jealousy hit you for a moment before you let out a breath. You should be happy for your brother, even if you wish to join them, but you must stay behind and keep watch.

“Of course, Riddle.” You said. “Just come back in on my cue, okay? We can't let mom find out.” You smiled at him, helping him climb out of the window and outside, where you melancholically watched the trio play. It was okay though, your brother is happy just like you promised.

All good things came to an end, however. You were too late on your cue, and Mother found out. You have never heard Riddle cry as hard as he did that day in your entire life, his terrified wails leaving a scar on your heart. However you knew what came next was going to be worse. She was going to scream at you too. You heard Riddle apologize over and over and over and over— It was driving you insane.

Suddenly, you entered the room. You were going to get screamed at anyways, so what did it matter? “Yuu get out of here, dont think your off the hook either! I can’t believe you went behind my back like that! I thought your matured! Aren’t you supposed to be a role model for your little brother?!” “Aren't you supposed to be a mom?”

“Excuse me?!” The wretched woman demanded.

“You treat me and Riddle like shit!” The woman’s face contorted with shock at the language that she never taught you— unaware of the secret books you hid that she didn't approve of. “All you do is scream at us and lock us up! Whenever we ask for anything and do anything you don't like, you just scream at us!” You sobbed, “Why did you even have kids if you don't want to raise them!”

“Do not speak to you mother like that—“

“You’re not my mom! You are the worst mom ever! I hate you! Ever since Riddle was born you always ignored me! And you don't even take care of him either! This is why you and dad fight all the time! You’re never happy with anything. Even when I do everything you ask you're never impressed! All you do is scream! I hate you! I hate you so much!”

Your kid self sobbed, and mother seemed to forget about Riddle, harshly grabbing your arms and dragging off. As she did, you saw your father behind her, merely standing by, doing nothing to save you. You weren't allowed out of your room for days, you weren’t even allowed around Riddle without supervision either.

That's when you really became unruly. If mother locked the windows and doors of the house you would pick them and sneak out. When she conducts room checks, you memorize all the places she looks so you can keep your forbidden goods hidden. Mother hated you, and she made it known. Everything she said was a snide remark at you. How at 18 you will be kicked out. How awful of a kid you are. How fat you're getting since you're sneaking food. How your magic will never be as good as Riddles since you're slacking off.

One day, however, it all boils over. You don’t remember how old you were— 15? 16? Maybe 17? But what you do remember is mom starting up a classic screaming match, talking about how ungrateful and wicked you are. Comparing you to Riddle and saying how she hopes you haven’t corrupted him with your evilness.

“Don't you dare bring Riddle into this! This is between us. This argument is between us! How dare you accuse me of hating my brother, when you have done nothing but make his life hell, when all you have ever done is turn us against each other! When you placed my entire worth on a few pathetic books” You screamed back at her as the verbal abuse continued. Riddle soon came down from his room, as you looked at him.

He’s gotten taller now, and face slightly longer. He walks with perfect posture. Usually, you felt comfort in your brother, but you noted his unimpressed expression. “Riddle, please, don't get involved. This is between me and mom.”

“Why do you hate her so much?”

“What?”

“She’s right.”

Mother seemed to smirk as you turned to look at him

“You’re joking.” You sneer.

Riddle glares. “It's not her fault that you don't care for the rules. If you only followed them, you wouldn’t be in trouble all the time.”

“That's the issue, her rules always change for me so she has a reason to keep getting mad at me.”

“Maybe if you kept studying you wouldn’t be so stupid as to not understand the value of rules! She’s right! You have done nothing but cause trouble for as long as I can remember! If you would just listen—“

You shook with anger, “Don't you dare talk to me about listening, Riddle! I gave everything for you! Don't you dare pretend the happiest days of your miserable life weren't because of me! I did everything I could to try and look after you and you just—“

You were silenced by a loud slap across your face. It stung. You froze, holding the area as it bruised, bleeding in the areas where the nails made contact with your skin. “How dare you talk to your brother like that! Stop being so jealous over—“ You didn't register what she said, your ears ringing as eyes welling with tears as all you could was look at Riddle who seemed to stare at you with disdain.

This wasn't the Riddle you knew. The Riddle you grew up with. The Riddle that babbled your name as a baby. How long have you been protecting a stranger? Acting up so he can have the slightest bit of freedom that you longed for.

You narrowed your eyes before clenching your fists. "Shut up!" You snapped at your mother. "I'm sick of you! You want me gone? Fine! I'm out!" "Yuu Rosehearts! You go through that door I'm calling the police!" "Go ahead! Tell them what a shitty mom you are! And you!" You glare at Riddle before closing your eyes. "Just stay out of my life."

You walked out, snagging a fair amount of money that you saved over the years to book it out of the Queendom of Roses, finding your own place to crash at as you work a few jobs to keep yourself afloat, up until you are invited to NRC.

At NRC, before Riddle:

You were sorted into Heartslabyul, the dorm of law and order much to your surprise. You were expecting Scarbia or Savanaclaw given their dorms ‘survival of the fittest’ themes. Still, you would take what you could get.

As you stood in line for your dorm, you noticed a familiar green-haired man in the same group. Trey made eye contact with you, obviously surprised to see you, and gave you a nervous smile. You glared at him before looking away. You wanted nothing to do with the man that's responsible for feeding into Riddle’s issues. You both avoided each other, only interacting with necessary and never dragging anything out with each other.

Surprisingly, you thrived in Heartslabyul, able to heal your inner child with all the mundane tasks you had to do, even guiding others and helping them with theirs. You did well in school, usually getting the top score on every test. You had to get good grades for a good job, especially since your parents cut you off financially. You can’t afford to slack off, and yet, you helped to tutor others. Not to mention your magical knowledge and use was already ahead of most others.

At some point within the year, the dormleader approached you, much to your surprise. He noticed all you heard work and wanted to hand off the title to you. After all, next year he would be a senior and would have to go off campus. He would need someone to look after the dorm when that happens and after all he’s done, he needs a break.

Being a dorm leader would look great on transcripts on top of all the other benefits it had. You accepted, and the crown was passed down to you. You were honestly the best dormleader at the school given the fact you knew how to lead, were kind, and got all your shit and trauma together. You were relaxed, but still implemented rules, including all of the Queen of Hearts rules to honor her dorm. Of course, you weren't too strict.

“You need to have lemonade with two sugars,” You mentioned to your dormmate. “Eh- sorry dorm leader I’ll—“ “Don't panic, just stand up and drink it.” “Huh?” You smiled. “If you truly look at the rules and all the addendums, you’ll find a lot of loopholes. The rules says you have to sit down and have two sugars in lemonade. It didn't say what you couldn’t drink while standing.”

You smirked, your mothers rules and years of having to deal with shady jobs made it easy for you to find exploits in any sort of fine print handed your ways, and you were sure to try and teach your underlings the same. Even if they didn’t use exploits and didn’t care much for the crazy rules, you didn’t mind. You weren’t a tyrant. The entire dorm looked forward to each Unbirthday and Birthday party you planned, each one stretching traditions to their limit to offer something unique.

Your knowledge of contracts and high test scores even attracted the attention of other dorms, especially a certain octopus. When you caught some of your students in shady contracts, you would review it with them and point out everything they could take advantage of. This led to you being confronted by the Octavinelle housewarden pretty quickly, though annoyed he was quite impressed.

“Now there Yuu, I do hope you can not interfere with business.” “I don't plan to. If any of my dorm members decide to sign their life away, that's their fault. I can point out a few chips in the contract, but it’s not my job to save them.” Azul seemed impressed. “My, my, it’s quite rare to find someone so reasonable!” Azul smiled with his honeyed voice. “I do wonder how you did not end up in our dorm.”

***

On top of your housewarden duties, you also ended up finding a wonderful job working for Mostro Lounge, not at Mostro Lounge. Your quick thinking and keen eye helped to calculate Azul’s profits faster than he ever could— you had experience from your times of being homeless and couch surfing. On top of that, you would always point out where he could make a contract more water tight, or places where he could reword it so can exploit his victim for even more. It gave you work experience and a good wage that you and Azul both fought over in your business contract together.

Ironic how Azul ended up with another rowdy and rule breaking member under him, as you also stretched the contract you made to its limit. Azul for once didn’t mind too much, since you were fair as long as he was. Plus you keep those twins out of his way too.

After all of these years of working your ass off, you finally, finally made it. You had a stable home for the next few years. Food security! A job! Spare money for little things! Amazing grades! You made it! You would be fine! Despite everything you have gone through, you are going to be okay. You looked in the mirror of your room admiring the hair you dyed to cover up the ruby red locks of hair that tied you to your past. You were free.

It was one night in your dorm, where you were approached by Trey. Even though it has been a year, it was still awkward between you two, and you both didn’t talk to each other. You looked at Trey with the best neutral expression you could muster. “Can I help you?”

“Riddle is coming.” “Pardon?” “Riddle has been accepted into Night Raven, he’s coming next year.” You shut your eyes pensively. “I see.” “Y’know… maybe you both can… Make up…?” You shot a glare at Trey. I’m not taking advice from someone as two-faced as you— an asskisser, you wanted to say. “I’d rather not.” You simply said, making your way to your room. “Goodbye Trey, do not stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” You warned, entering your room just to lay back on bed and stare at the ceiling with a newfound dread.

The next year with Riddle:

You stood as the housewarden representative of your dorm, watching as freshmen emerge from their coffins to get sorted. Then you saw him, Riddle. The red haired freshmen walked down the carpet to get sorted when he made eye contact with you, eyes widening for a brief moment before narrowing into a glare, not recognizing you at first with your dyed hair. He stood in front of the mirror, and though you knew it was unlikely, you still hoped that somehow, he would not end up sorted into your dorm.

“Heartslabyul.” The mirror spoke, and like that, everything started to crumble.

Guiding the freshmen to the dorms you stopped them in front of the dorm entrance. It was the dormleaders responsibility to assign everyone a card. “You will be a fine spade,” You said to one before allowing them in. “And you a diamond.” You waved the next person past you. “And you…” You paused when Riddle stood in front of you, before clearing your throat. “A heart would be most suited.”

The welcoming party went fine. You kept it traditional and laid back to not intimidate any of the new members, allowing everyone to socialize. As you engaged in the festivities and croquet, you noticed Riddle and Trey socializing, your brother looking sternly at Trey, before glancing over at you. You had a suspicion that even after all of these years, Riddle still needed to be superior to everyone. Your position as leader would not last long.

***

You had finalized the papers and packed your things. You were moving in the dorm you should have been a part of from the start: Savanaclaw. Azul cried crocodile tears that you didn’t join him, but you know that though you would have loved to be friends with your boss, he was a ticking time bomb of greed. Being under his control at all times was dangerous. Leona on the other hand, ultimately didn’t care about who joined so long as they could sort out their own shit. He was a safer, more minor and reasonable timebomb.

After packing, you went into the rose garden, noticing you were being followed in the distance. When you got to the center of it, where your favorite place in the whole school was, you turned around. It was Riddle and Trey. Tsk, what a surprise.

“I know you were ignoring me.” “Was I, dear brother? My apologies, it was never my intention.” Riddle would have nearly turned red if it wasn't for Trey putting a hand on his shoulder. How pathetic. He was just like his mother.

“I am here to tell you that I intend to duel you for the position of dorm leader.” “Okay, here.” You take off the crown on your head and offer it out to him, watching as your little brother stares at it a mix of baffled and offended. “Is this a joke? Or are you really that lazy and weak-willed?” Riddle demanded, “I refuse to just accept the crown, you need to put in the effort as a leader should!”

“I don't see why, I’m transferring dorms.” Trey raised his brows, “To where?” “Octavinelle,” you lied, not wanting to risk them harassing you in your new dorm. “Anyways, here you go, Housewarden Riddle. I’m sure you and Trey here would be wonderful leaders.”

“I refuse! Put in some effort for once in your life, Yuu!” Riddle scolded you in that damn tone mother always used on you.

You just laughed. “You do not deserve my effort, firstly. Secondly, are you being intentionally dense or have you forgotten what I said to you— I want you to stay out of my life. I do not want contact with any of you anymore. I'm done! I'm sorry it ended this way. I hope you get everything you ever wanted and I hope I hear nothing about it, truly, I do.”

You throw the crown onto the ground as you take a deep breath. “Don’t visit my new dorm. Do not look for me at all. I am tired of you always making me feel bad about myself and having to be superior to me. The years I spent away from all of you, were the happiest I ever had.” You glared, tears in your eyes as you look for any trace of what remained of the brother you once knew, only to be met with disgust, he huffs then speaks.

“Why would I ever visit or look for you? We are not family anymore if I recall, and we were never family to begin with. It’s ridiculous of you to even think I would want to be related to someone like you in the slightest.” Riddle stated. “You weren't my sibling. You never were, and never will be.” His glare made you chuckle cynically.

“Is that so? Well then, I’m glad that's the case…” You take a few steps closer to him, towering over Riddle height wise. It's impressive how much someone could grow when they weren't stressed all the time and had some proper food. You lowered your voice. “I cannot believe I wasted my entire life protecting you. The amount of abuse I have taken in your stead, all for nothing. You, you're just like her.” You sneer, pushing past Riddle before pausing. “I used to have a brother once you know? He had the kindest smile and the wildest imagination. Whenever we played pretend together we would imagine that we could both take over the world as brothers in arms. I wonder what happened to him.

You take another step forward as Trey looks away from you. “And you.” You sound absolutely feral by now. “I would have expected you of all people to not accept roles that you don’t want to be in,” You leaned in closer. “You damned two-faced son of a bitch. You allowed this to happen to him.” You didn't even look back at Trey as you made your way out of the maze, back to your room to change clothes, pack your bags and go.

***

Since the first week that Riddle took charge, you have heard nothing but horror stories. He was as tyrannical as you imagined him to be. Whatever, it wasn't your problem anymore, the others will get fed up and deal with him eventually, and maybe then he will finally learn. Besides, Trey seems to have no issues anyways.

Life in Savanaclaw was bliss, you fit in a bit too perfectly, not afraid to rough up others if it came to it. You shared a room with your closest friend, Ruggie. It surprised the both of you with how close you came, actually. Coming from a poor background, you both shared tips for saving money and DIY, along with helping each other do some sleazy things to get by.

You both helped each other get jobs, and you even helped Ruggie pay for stuff with no strings attached since you were more well off. You lended each other's stuff all the time. You even help him grab discounted stuff in bulk for him to take back to his village. You helped to tutor each other in subjects you both struggled with and would even allow him to copy your homework. You both understood each other. Finally, someone gets you!

You rarely see Riddle. The only time you ever do is during test postings. You go up to check your score, and as usual, it is in the top spot. Satisfied, you shrug and turn around, and go to walk off, when you see your brother in the crowd. Riddle's eyes look at the top spot in a mix of disbelief and jealousy, absolutely miffed on how he wasn't on top. You looked up to see where the Riddle's test was, just to see it directly below yours, only one extra credit point behind. You don't think much of it. You leave.

Every test, you would go and glance at the wall, just to make sure your grades were fine, and everytime you notice how Riddle looks absolutely frustrated. You honestly aren't doing it to try and get back at him at all, in fact you wouldn't care if Riddle beat you, as long as you were on the wall you were above average. Eventually, Riddle does beat you on one test— Algebraic Magic Notation, something you never really cared for.

You saw yourself in second place, noticing in the corner of your eye how Riddle seems to stare at you for your reaction, before you just shrug as you walk off, feeling a glare in the back of your head as you do so. You had lunch with Ruggie today.

Overblot:

You have heard about that new magicless student around. Enma Yuuken, his name was. Apparently he caused a lot of commotion at the entrance ceremony and is a dorm leader and stuff now, cool, good for him. You never expected him and his Heartslabyul friends to seek you out however.

You were exiting Mostro Lounge after some accounting and contract checking Azul had you do for his next big plan. As you walked through the dorm on your way out, you noticed a certain quad behind you. “… Can I help you?” You turned around and asked, looking at the students. There was a spade and heart with a collar from your brother around his neck, along with a tall, broad student behind them, monster on his shoulder.

“Hey are you Yuu? Chenya said we could find you here.” The spade asked respectfully. “Chenya huh…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?” You asked curtly, staring at your newly dyed hair in the windows of the lounge. “Is it true Riddle’s your brother?” The heart asked desperately and sighed. “Not anymore. He’s dead to me. Is that all you need?” You narrowed your eyes.

“O-oh! Uh…” Deuce stuttered. “That doesn’t matter, can you tell us why the hell he's like this?” “Can I go back to my dorm?” “Is this not your dorm…?” Yuuken asks. You just blink at them. “Everyone we asked about said your from Octavinelle.” Grim muttered, you gripped your Savanaclaw ribbon in your fist to hide it.

"Firstly, I am a liar and you should never live in a place that your employer has control of, it will always result in a power imbalance, and believe me you do not want someone like Azul to have leverage over you. Secondly I don't share where I live because of people like you trying to ask me about Riddle."

You stare over at them watching as they all stare at each other with a tinge of guilt. You huff, "Fine, if you have questions, follow me. It's not safe to answer them here. There are eyes everywhere."

***

You look around outside of the dorm as you lead the group down the hall before stopping. “Okay what do you need to know?” “So your brother,” the heart starts. “How the fuck did he end up the way he is?” At that you let out a short laugh. “Oh, is that what this is about?” “Yeah sort of!” The heart sputters. “Look, we're trying to get him to stop being… like that… and we need to learn about him first!”

“I’m afraid you’ve been led on a wild goose chase. I haven’t had contact with him in years.” “Eh?!” The group booms. “Yeah, sorry about that, he told me I was never his sibling and that I never would be. If you really want to know why he’s like that, you should ask Trey.” “Trey?” Grim asks.

You nod. “They grew up together too, and he was around him for much longer since I left. Good luck overthrowing my brother though, if you need anything else let me know, though we haven’t talked to each other in a while, I can read him like a book.”

***

You didn't expect the quad to show up again the next day, this time at lunch where you sat. “What is it now?” You ask curiously as the heart— Ace, you learned, sits across from you pouting with his collar still on. “We’re challenging Riddle to the seat of housewarden!” “Oh?” Yuuken looks at you seriously and nods. “We need you to tell us everything about him."

You chuckle sadly. “Even if I did, you all stand no match. We were both forced to study magic before we could even walk, and you both have barely learned how to change colors of objects using magic. I’m sorry, but you cannot win.” Grim whines and Deuce sighs, “What, you saying we're weak?” “I am saying you are inexperienced. Do any of you even know how to cast a warding spell?”

The card soldiers went silent. “You know…” Yuuken starts. “Didn’t you fight Riddle since you were the housewarden before him? What did he do?” “I didn't. I gave it to him and left the dorm.” “You what?! You willingly handed over the dorm to him?!” Ace gawked. “I’m sorry, but it is not my job to save him from himself. Even if I won, he would just keep bothering me over and over. I ran away to get away from the person who defended the person that hit me, forgive me for not wanting to put up with him again.”

At that the table quieted. “So uh… what's your magic like… or your unique one at least…” Deuce asks. “Wouldn’t you like to know? All you know is that it tends to break the rules of everything around me when used— Ironically, with it, Riddle's spells wouldn’t even work with how by the book all his are.” “Breaks the rules..?” Deuce echoes. “Can’t tell you anything else, sorry.”

“Wait! What if we brought you with us as backup?” “It would be an invalid duel, I’m not from the dorm anymore.’ “What if you support us in the shadows or something.” “That's cheating!” Yuuken scolds. “Exactly.”

The cards sigh and you frown. “Look, I cannot help you with that from here, however, on the day of the duel I will accompany you. I'll hide in the crowd and step in if he takes it too far, since he tends to.”

He took it way too far as you stood before your brother, filled to the brim with blot. You sigh as you stand behind the freshmen you came to support, no longer hiding. “Come on Riddle. It doesn’t have to be like this.” “SILENCE! I am… I AM RIGHT! I AM STRONGER! You know NOTHING! You ran away! What would you know?!” “We aren't getting to them. Freshmen, get out of here, this is between us.”

“Nuh uh! I’m kicking his ass too!” Ace says. “Right!” Deuce replies. Yuuken pulls out his kendo stick, ready to fight despite being magicless. “Fine then, just follow my lead.”

***

You watched as the blot left your brother in front of you. The tyrant, no longer fighting. Then, and only then, did you collapse from your injuries. Even when you gave those freshies direct orders they put themselves in harm's way, meaning you had to tank the hit for them. “Yuu!” Deuce called out. “I'm fine! I'm just… tired…” You felt blood drip down your face as you laid down.

Upon snapping out of the blot, you heard sobbing, the same sad sobs that happened on that fateful day. “I'm sorry!” Riddle shouts, reminding you of how mother would making him apologize over and over. Your head pounds, and the next thing you feel is someone sitting next to you, putting a hand near your face to check your breath before resting it on your cheek, and you recognize it.

They were larger than they were before, but the softness was unmistakably Riddle’s. His hand held you face the same he did when you were both kids and you would lift him up in the air, pretending that he was flying. You smile and open your eyes, and are met with his face looking over you.

He was sobbing, face flushed and hair unkempt for the first time in his life, and yet the look in his eyes was unmistakably the Riddle you once knew. You smile up on him and reach up to cup his face as well. “I think… I finally found my little brother I used to play with after all these years…” You chuckle before sucking in a breath at the pain, making Riddle panic and pull you onto his lap. “Yuu!”

Riddle holds you close to him, pulling you in a hug. “I’m sorry! You were right! You were right… I treated you badly… Will you ever forgive me….?” He sobbed into your neck and you reached up to hug him. “I wasn't mad at you, Riddle. I never was. I was scared… Scared I lost you to her.”

You were critically injured, in unbearable pain, and yet here you were still protecting and comforting your little brother like you always swore you would. “I love you Riddle, always did you know that right?” Riddle choked back a sob and nodded. “Good, I’m glad you know.” “Don’t leave me… Please dont leave me alone again! Not after I just got you back…” “Hey… don't worry about me okay? I'll be fine, I’ve experienced worse. I'll bounce back in no time, and we can have tea parties again, Just like when we were kids,” you choke, and Crowley comes in just in time to pick you up as you struggle to breathe, making Riddle get up and crowd you.

“They’re going to be alright, right?” Riddle sobs. “Riddle,” you mumble. “Takes a lot more than that to kill me.” You beam confidently, despite the various injuries on your body. “Right now your dorm needs you. Show them what a great leader you can be, kay? I always thought you played a better queen than I did…” You slur. “I know that Heartslabyul will shine better with than it did with me.”

“Come on Yuu, let's get you to a doctor.” Crowley says, flying off with you in his arms. Riddle watched as he shook, and a smile grew on his face.

Resolution:

You lay on one of the beds in the nurse's office. Pixies come to cater to your needs every once and a while as you rest to the sound of the heart monitor beeping. You turn your head to the side to look in a mirror and your hair is an unruly mess that matches you, this time however, it is the same ruby red that matches your brother after you used a coloring spell on it. And for once, you do not hate your resemblance to him.

A knock is heard from the door, and you watch the door open in the mirror. Riddle comes in, a small tray in hand. The minute he sees you, he carefully approaches, placing the tray on the bedside table. You prop your bed up to see him better, smiling gently to try and ease his guilty and nervous expression.

“It’s nice to see you.” “I um… brought you something.” Riddle mumbles, opening the box he brought in. Unveiling it, you can see it is a tiny strawberry tart, the ones you would always try to sneak to him when you lived at home. The edges were burnt and it was slightly misshapen, but it was perfect. “I um.. made it, by myself.” He holds his hands in front of himself and looks down.

You reach over for it just to cause Riddle to fuss over you. “Don't move, you're hurt, I’ll feed you.” The housewarden holds the box in his arm, pulling out the spoon he brought with him and carefully scooping up a piece shakily before holding it to your mouth. “Heh, I can get used to this.” “You still have the energy to tease me on your deathbed? You really are… something…” Riddle pouts, making you snicker internally as you take the bite, savoring the tart in all its glory. It’s probably the best thing you’ve ever had.

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry… The tart is really good though…” “We are planning to have an Unbirthday party to make up for the last one… It was supposed to be today, but I put it off so you can come when you're better… If you want to.” “Will it be like the tea parties we imagined as kids? Where were together and can play and eat whatever we want?” “Yes, yes it will be just like the tea parties we had as kids.”

You tear up a bit. “I would love to.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #disney twisted wonderland #enma yuuken #ace trappola #deuce spade

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sunshine-for-serotonin · 11 months

Note

My lord i would give you my firstborn for more Erik content, hes literally my babygirl.

Hello my darling!! I decided to do some cuddling headcannons for you as well as some random tidbit headcannons!!! {it’s extremely unorganized} this can be read as any Erik of your choosing, but some specific phantoms are mentioned once or twice!

I’m not super proud of this, but I felt like I had to feed you guys something.

I am not officially back to my full tumblr writing, but I am hoping to make a steady return! Also, I made a Lerik bot on Character.ai if you guys want me to un-private it and post the link. :)

When you cuddle with Erik, no matter which version, you basically have to plan on taking the first or second half of the day off.

He’s very touch starved, so he doesn’t like letting you go unless he absolutely has to, and even then Erik will probably throw a fit of some kind, too desperate for your touch to even think about how it may affect the rest of his opera house.

He’s not ashamed about voicing his need for you either; if you try to leave, he will drop down to his knees and blubber like a child, begging for you to stay and love on him. If it’s a specific person that is causing you to leave, Erik will threaten to kill them! It doesn’t matter if it is the managers, Meg and Madam Giry, or even Christine (should she stay there after the whole final lair scene and the phantoms activities die down)! It doesn’t matter! They don’t matter! The only thing that matters is you and your love! Erik needs you, (Y/N)! He needs you to love him until he can’t think! For you to cuddle him and kiss him like he’s your beloved pet!

Concerning you being friends with Christine, Erik absolutely despises it! She had already abandoned him for the Vicomte, she can’t take you away from him too! She mustn’t! No, if Christine even tried to advise you away from him, he would make sure she wishes she never approached you!

Please, if he starts on one of his tangents about you leaving him for someone else, make love to him and tell him what a good boy he is. It’s a sure fire way to calm him down, and Erik, even though he is likely significantly older than you, loves being coddled and reassured that you won’t leave him.

you will find that almost all versions of Erik prefer to be held rather than just hold you, with the exception of Cherik. It’s not because they’re selfish! It’s because Erik needs you to hold him in order for things to feel okay, and it feels good that you would hold him of your own free will and kindness. If he was the one completely holding you, he would be worried you didn’t actually want to be close to him!

To expand on that a little more, Cherik is the only phantom that prefers to be the big spoon. All the others want you to press against them from behind and wrap your arms around their waist, pressing kisses into the sensitive skin of their neck. {as mentioned in one of my previous posts, Kerik is a horny bastard and will probably start getting hard if you’re not careful.}

Get them to lay on top of you.

Do it. Well… do it if you can handle them crying from emotional release, anyway.

Laying on top of you will give Erik the feeling of maternal care and nurturing he never received as a child, and it’s bound to make him cry from the sheer love he feels for you and the feeling of love you’re giving him, and even then the abandonment issues and childhood trauma just overflows from him like a fountain of sadness.

For versions of Erik where his deformities are a little more open and wet, like Meriks, you’ll have to reassure him that you don’t mind touching it. That the feeling of his open flesh against your skin doesn’t bother you, and that you’d love to cuddle him regardless.

Phantoms with deformities like Meriks are almost always between a rock and a hard place when it comes to cuddling you because on one hand, they’re worried about you seeing their deformities up close and so they’ll want to lay their bad side on your chest so you can’t see it as well. On the other hand, they’re paranoid about you finding the feeling of their deformities gross against your skin and making you uncomfortable.

It’s a lot to unpack when you cuddle Erik, or even give him attention in general, but you will find that it is well worth the effort. Erik loves you and would burn down the entire world to make you smile, and yet he finds himself feeling he is unworthy of even mere scraps of your attention and love, but you always reassure him otherwise. :)

#yandere erik destler #erik destler x reader #erik destler #phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera x reader #yandere phantom of the opera #yandere poto

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showtoonzfan · 2 months

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Now I want to talk about Charlie cause good GOD. I never cared much for her in the pilot, I’ll admit that. I always called her boring compared to the other characters because of how developed they were compared to her. However the show takes everything that the pilot build up for her and just made her 10x worse to the point where she’s INSUFFERABLE to watch.

When I got to the very end of the season, I realized that she barley did anything progressive or had an impact on any character, at least what we’ve seen on screen. I understand this was the first season, but what exactly was her arc and what exactly did she do? Nothing. Throughout the season she wasn’t a leader, the most she did was help Sir pen with lessons and have that fight at the heaven trial. In the end they try to act like she overcame some arc about learning to lead and take charge but…she didn’t really. She was helped constantly by people around her, mainly Vaggie/Alastor/Rosie and she never really did anything on her own that was enough to signify her independence as the MAIN character or even the princess of hell. I love how she needed to be TOLD that her girlfriend cared for her…like wow. Vaggie also states that she’s “done so much and touched so many souls”- and all I could think about is how I actually wish we saw that on screen. Husk said she “wants to fix everyone’s problems but her own” and I never got that vibe out of her??? If she was more like Luz from the Owl house where we constantly saw her avoid her own emotions and problems and focus more on helping other people, then it would make sense but guess what, we don’t see any of that because the show is so disinterested in ACTUALLY focusing on Charlie shining at the front and helping people. They scrapped the main premise of her wanting to help sinners and instead used up all the time they had to introduce new characters. It’s all tell and no show as expected.

She’s painted as someone who’s desperate to save her people but when she’s not the focus and actually helping someone, she’s a whiny frustrating crybaby who needs to be coddled or steered in the right direction, and it’s SO hard to watch how her character is treated like a child who can’t do anything. This character has existed for 200+ years canonically but she isn’t written like that. She’s dumb. The fact that she’s such a doormat that she can’t even realize Angel is being abused by Val or even DO ANYTHING about it is fucking baffling, she’s THAT useless. There were so many moments in the show where she could have used her authority or powers to save trouble, but she just doesn’t do it because she’s useless, and I’m tired of people trying to say she’s a pacifist to excuse the shitty writing. She’s also basically Viv’s self insert in a way, an unfunny woman child who’s a hypocrite. Like Charlie is the equivalent of dry white chicken. There’s no seasoning or flavor to her character, she’s SO bland and boring that Lucifer and Alastor end up being more important than her and having more screen time, she’s ATTACHED to them and it really shows, rather than her being at the front. And I know we’re on season 1, but you’d think that Charlie’s childishness would actually be a character flaw and something she needs to overcome and grow up about. But this isn’t really seen as an issue and more of a quirky thing cause Viv thinks being a woman child is funny, the “fuck you you old bitch” scene made me cringe so god damn hard. Everyone has already said it, but Charlie cursing so so forced and unnatural for her character. I don’t like how she’s supposed to be a cinnamon roll but then at the same time swears and acts feral at times. It doesn’t fit.

During the fight scene in the end, she also does absolutely nothing. She made a whole deal about how she wants to defend her people and get back at the angel’s, but aside from throwing Adam and hitting him once, she needed to be protected or saved, Lucifer ended up actually doing the work and it was so hilarious. Speaking of that, Charlie’s daddy issues arc was also rushed, her and Lucifer reuniting and then making up within the same episode was a mistake. Then you realize that her daddy issues was mainly all Charlie had to her in terms of depth and what was explored in the show. I’m so tired of Viv giving her characters daddy issues, it’s getting old lol. But regardless of what Charlie has to her, in general the show just doesn’t focus on her. She’s not the main focal point of the show when she should be. SHE’S the one who wants to redeem sinners, the hotel was her idea. Even tho the pilot was a mess I still felt like she was determined to take the lead due to her beliefs. And yet she still feels like a side/background character who only occasionally gets focus here and there but certainly not compared to the others. The potential is there but due to the favoritism of the writing she’s such an empty and boring character and stayed like that till the very end.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel Charlie

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oswildin · 4 months

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DOMESTIC!LOKI X ND!PARTNER HEADCANNONS

NOTE: please note this is based on my own experiences with being autistic. no neurodivergent person is the same, and everyone’s experiences are different.

Oh, he has a SOFT spot for you, like so soft that it makes even him want to vomit (but he loves it)

He loves that you maybe think a little differently to others. It makes him consider things he hadn’t before. You always make him wonder

He does his best to explain things thoroughly, clearly and slowly, even showing you if needed. He always makes time for you

If he sees you are getting overwhelmed or overstimulated, he’s quick to try and help any way he can - conjuring earphones (he always keeps in his pocket dimension just incase), using his magic to dim the lights or draw the curtains, trying to redirect your attention to something else

If you’re in a busy, noisy place like a supermarket, he will always be watching closely, staying close, even guiding you with a hand on the small of your back in a comforting gesture

Need time alone? Oh yeah, he’s giving you sad puppy dog eyes, but allows you your space, knowing how important it is

Conjures illusions of stars on the ceiling, nebulas, fireworks, anything he thinks you’ll enjoy and keep you calm

Can’t leave the house? No worries, Loki has already cleared your schedule and is busy making your favourite food

Speaking of favourite foods, he always makes sure you have enough stock of your favourite brands/specific snacks. And if one store doesn’t have them, he will go to the next… and the next… maybe even another to make sure he can acquire them for you

Will gladly stroke your hair, your arm, back, wherever he can to help keep you relaxed and happy

Loki can always tell when you’re close to burning out, and makes it his mission to try and ease the blow of it

He set alarms on your phone - when he worked out how - for when you have things to do or tablets to take or anything he thinks you may forget. (He tried post-it notes, but realised they didn’t work, becoming apart of the furniture)

He finds you hilarious. He never laughs at you, it’s always with you, he is never unkind

He also finds you very endearing, how could he not?

Now, if you are having a meltdown, he always asks what he can do, never assuming. He knows sometimes you don’t like to be touched, and sometimes that’s what you need to ground you. He knew it wasn’t the same everytime, and would always follow your guidance

He also knows that he needs to let it happen. Of course, he ensures you don’t hurt yourself, but he understands that you physically need to get out your emotions to feel balanced, less overwhelmed. He never judges you, and unless you want to talk about it, he doesn’t press the matter

If someone ever makes a slight comment or joke about you, oh boy, they better start running

He’s fiercely protective. But he also knows you aren’t a child that needs coddling. But he will always be there to fight your corner

He even will rewatch your favourite shows or films with you, over and over, even reciting some of the dialogue with you, just happy to see you happy

Loki also will listen when you speak excitedly and passionately about your interests, trying his best to remember as much as he can, even though sometimes he struggles when your fixation changes quickly

He takes the lead in social situations, after all he loves the attention, letting you speak when you feel comfortable, but will also involve you subtly and gently to ease you into the conversation

Mirroring! He will gladly mirror you if you need to do something, anything to spend time with you

In short, he thinks you are a complex, wonderful, brilliant person, who is witty, kind and misunderstood by most people. He relates to you because he too has been misunderstood by others, and he finds comfort in having someone else who knows how it feels, even if he wishes you don’t know how it feels

He knows your struggles are very real, and never judges, never belittles, and loves you no matter what kind of day you are having

#loki #loki x reader #loki headcanons #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki imagine #marvel headcanons #loki marvel #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #mcu loki

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