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Sorry about the late reply haha, but I'm absolutely thrilled to hear you enjoyed reading my last ask!
About RGGJo (I've been been calling him a variant of that for ages too, but if I ever slip up and call him Jou, it's out of habit; I like to differentiate them by RGGO and 7's different official romanizations lol), I'd actually say it's not at all hyperbolic to describe him as relaxed. If you ever have a moment, I think going through his voice lines is one of the best ways to get acquainted with his character in a short time! (Article might be a little rough, I basically speedran it all in a day just to show you lol; also a lot of them are uh........ let's say borderline flirtatious)
That said, it is much less apparent before the timeskip. To go on a bit (or a lot) of a tangent, I think that kind of relates to something I've noticed about their relationship with authority. Which is to say, it feels like they have a tendency to walk on eggshells with regard to authority figures. I think that might be the single most consistent thing between their characterizations.
You do see that directly with Arakawa, of course. It's something established really early on for both of them. You can tell right away from Jo's sheepish look when Arakawa walks in on the yubitsume fiasco or RGGJo freezing up when Arakawa walks in on the equivalent scene that he's someone they genuinely seek approval from as an authority figure. And, y'know, 7 has that micro-interaction with Arakawa only needing to put a hand on Jo's shoulder to stop him, whereas RGGO has Mitsu directly stating that the only person who's able to calm him down when he's on a rampage is Arakawa. Honorable mention to the substory where Ichi stops RGGJo from killing some guy by saying it'd put Arakawa in a bad mood.
But I think the clearest example sort-of-outside of Arakawa, one that's more insightful with regard to authority in general (since you could say of course he respects Arakawa specifically), is actually from Ryuji's RGGO story. There was a fair amount of confusion, right, because it's canon to the console timeline, but they hadn't implemented the Arakawa Family's 7 sprites, and they used the RGGO ones. So the funny thing is, I could tell right away that everyone was supposed to be their 7 selves based on characterization
I did take the time to look over all of RGGJo's voice lines from the link you provided oh my god you weren't kidding about making quick edits i checked the log date and you were making changes just a few hours ago, bless you and your work fr and yeah no, his voice lines definitely give off a different feel from Y7Jo (and definitely no joke about the more 'flirtatious' lines- evidently as someone who's mostly perceived Y7Jo it's jarring to say the least. Not that I'm complaining, it's incredibly interesting to see the difference)! It's almost funny to me how different their personalities seem, I wonder what made RGG decide to conceal his more 'playful' personality..
In regards to his relationship with authority- or I guess I want to talk more specifically about with Arakawa- the backstory each Jo has offers different avenues for explanation as to why he's so readily obedient.
I have to make a disclaimer right now and say I'm not totally caught up on Ichi's RGGO story (I stopped just after their fight on the rooftop), so maybe more background to Jo is given. Nevertheless, for RGGJo, his reasons for being obedient aren't exactly clear aside from respecting Arakawa's influence/power (as noted by his irezumi, I'm pretty sure). On that note though, I haven't seen the bit from Ryuji's story- something I'm definitely going to look into once I get some time this week (and it's neat that the Jo's are distinct enough from each other that you can discern which iteration it's supposed to be despite the sprite used: I'm excited to see that for myself!).
Inversely, the context that Arakawa has been taking care of Jo's son offers a more concrete form of an explanation as to why he's compliant. It's not bad to assume I think that Jo genuinely respects Arakawa's authority, but it's that added context that adds an extra layer to his behavior.
#long post#fave#snap chats#what a better way to start the day than talking about jo thank you for another fun ask !!#i feel like making some stretches tho- left em out of the main text so i dont look TOTALLY insane#ill just look silly down here LMAO#but back to Y7Jo since im the most familiar with him and have had more time to ponder him#i feeeeel like making some psyche-related reaches for his reaction to authority#it's noteworthy that jo came from an abusive household even if he did runaway when he was 14/15 years old#and the effects of that feel the most apparent whenever aoki yells at him#he doesnt try to say anything or even apologize- he looks sheepish and stands quietly until aoki's done#it could just be the projection coming out but it's not uncommon for kids to let their parents scream at them#because what can they do? their parent is the authority figure so their input isn't valid#ironic im saying all that when referencing /aoki/ and /jo/ but it's a cruel irony now isnt it#BUT thats all of my silly rambling. again this is more theorizing than anything im super concrete on#i blame having had to do my psyche paper this weekend but id be lying if its not somethin i think bout a lot#its just not something id try to pass as hard fact to anyone#in any case thats all i have to say :) thank you again for the ask !
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Have you ever seen that corny ass skit where it’s the girl talking to her husband asking him to fix things and he says “I’m not a plumber” “I’m not a carpenter” bla bla bla and then one day he comes home and the girl’s like “oh yeah I had the neighbor come over to fix the things you wouldn’t” and the neighbor says she can either bake him a cake or sleep with him as payment so the husband asks “so what kind of cake did you bake him?” And the girl says “I’m not a baker?”
Very much Neighbor!Price x stay-at-home-mom!reader coded :)
Mdni. Nsfw below cut.
Neighbor!Price who’s found a quiet little cul-de-sac to settle in when he’s got some time off. It’s a little neighborhood, mostly older people who’re thrilled to have a man like him around to help bring out bins and offer to mow their lawns or rake their leaves or shovel their drives when he’s around.
But somehow he’s found the only other younger family in the area living directly next to him. Parents are a few years his junior, and they’ve got two young kids. He assumes the boy, the older one, is early elementary age- sees you herding him into the car in the morning with a pack lunch and a backpack that’s nearly the same size as he is to and from the house in the morning and afternoon. And the girl, the younger, must be in pre-k, because she’s only out for half the day and doesn’t get the same pack lunch her brother gets.
He’s gotten to know you pretty well. When he’s around, the two of you will chat while you’re tending your garden and he’s working in his garage carrying out some odd project or another. He thinks you’re sweet. Likes the way you wear overalls with a little top when you’re planting flowers in the beds out front. How when you bend over or stand at the right angle he can imagine you’re not wearing a top at all.
He hates your husband. He’s crass and rude and never waves hello to any of the neighbors- odd for such a friendly little community. Leaves for work early and comes home late and leaves you to fend for yourself all day. Doesn’t know how to interact with you or your kids. And Price is almost certain he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked because his bedroom window looks over your living room and he’s caught you on the couch with your hand down your pants more times than could have been coincidence.
He’s known to be the neighborhood handyman. Got a little workshop set up in his garage and a general knowledge about nearly everything, so it’s not uncommon that he gets a knock on the door a few times a week. Usually it’s some of the older neighbors popping over to see if he can fix their TVs or help their grandkids connect to the Wi-Fi, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you turn up on his porch mid-morning.
You’re scrunching the ends of your soaking wet hair in a towel. Apologizing as soon as you hear him turn the deadbolt. Feverishly going on about how you must have blown a circuit in the bathroom trying to dry your hair and you’d usually be able to manage but your husband shoved a bookshelf in front of the breaker and you can’t get through to it.
He’s sweet about it. Always is, but especially for you. Follows you over to your place and promises you no less than ten times that it’s really no trouble. He’s happy to help. It’s a quick fix, but he drags it out as long as he can. Insists on following you up and down the stairs from the basement to the top floor twice to make sure everything’s working properly.
He notices that the bathroom door sticks and that the fire alarm in the hallway is chirping from a low battery. You apologize for the toys in the living room and the clean laundry pile on the couch and the state of your house. Say that your husband is racking up a hefty to-do list with a small laugh that’s just a bit too forced.
He’s thrilled to tell you that he’s got some free time later in the week and says he’ll come over if only to help out your husband. Makes some backhanded remark about how your husband is clearly a busy lad. You refuse- of course- sweet thing that you are, but he turns up the next day after you’ve taken your kids to school anyway.
He tails you up the drive so there’s no way you can shut him out. Shushes you when you try to apologize for one reason or another and takes off to fix not only the sticky bathroom door and the fire alarm batteries, but also the dripping kitchen faucet and the garbage disposal that’s been broken for months.
You try to stay clear of whatever room he’s working in, chirping short responses to whatever nonsense question he asked in an attempt to lure you over. It was only when he was about to head out and he saw you leaning on the dryer to keep it shut that he saw his golden opportunity.
You were clearly trying to hide it, but even with a small load of clothes in, it sounded like you’d thrown a pair of boots into a tin garbage pail and shook it hard as you could. You tried to shoo him off, but he wasn’t having any of it.
There’s enough skirting around the subject to give you chance to turn down his advances, but when he realizes you’re not outright telling him to go fuck himself, he’s essentially taking it as a challenge to see if he can’t push you to that point.
Hoists you up on the still clanging machine and pushes between your legs on the weak pretense of needing you there to keep the door shut while he works. The machine shook the straps of your top down off your shoulders and made him acutely aware of the fact that you hadn’t had the time to put on a bra yet. It made his pants near painfully tight on the crotch.
He’d try and make idle chat. Your kids and plans for the day, but it’s entirely too hard for him to focus on anything other than the way your thighs are pressing together as the dry cycle started to bang the machine around more. He makes a light comment about how he’s not sure how you get anything done around the house with the dryer in this state. Your laugh is breathy.
And when he leans over you to reach to the back of the machine, he can feel the way your soft panting breaths fan his neck. Confirms his suspicions.
“Alright?”
You’re chewing the inside of your lip while you nod. Clearly starved for stimulation if all it takes is a dry cycle to get you off. Poor thing.
It’s stuffy in the laundry room. Adds to the appeal. Makes your shorts ride up and stick to your legs. Your thighs are dewy and glide together when you shift under his gaze.
“You sure, doll?”
The two of you are almost nose-to-nose. You’re leaned back, caged in by his big arms that look even bigger in his almost obscenely tight shirt. He’s smiling. Letting his eyes wander to your collarbones. The way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.
Before you could choke out your answer, the dryer stopped. Chimed the alert and slowly stilled. You took a shaky breath and nodded once more, looking like you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. He backed off, stretched out his hand to help you down.
You lead him to the kitchen. Ask if you can get him anything. Tea or food. He declines. You say something about stopping to get cash when you’re out picking up your daughter in a couple hours. He declines again.
“John, really, I appreciate your help. You have to let me get you back.”
You’re filling the kettle with water anyway, leaned just slightly over the sink. He knows it’s impolite to stare, but he’s never had very good manners when it came to things like that.
“Bake me a cake or somethin’, then. Sleep with me. Won’t take your money, though.”
You whirl around and end up sloshing some water down your front. Doesn’t seem to phase you. Your eyebrows are damn near at your hairline.
“I don’t know if that’s appropriate, considering…”
He snorts a soft laugh. It’s kind- not at all suggestive. Like he’s playing off a clever joke.
“What? Baking me a cake?”
You purse your lips and set the kettle on the stove.
“Never been a very good baker.”
He about hurdles the kitchen island like he’s running track.
“That right?”
You make a thoughtful sound before clicking on the burner. He can see you biting back a smile. You finally turn to face him. Leaned back on your hands with your head cocked slightly to the side.
“I just don’t know that it would be appropriate given our- my- situation.”
It’s his turn to hum and nod. Take a few steps forward, slow and slinky like a predator stalking toward its prey.
“Sure.”
You chew your bottom lip. Try to find some resolve in fussing with your wedding ring. It’s horrible. Small. He can’t help but think about how he’d be able to get you a much better one. He takes a few more steps forward.
“It’s complicated, John.”
Your voice is mousy now.
“I know.”
A few more steps forward and he’s back nose-to-nose with you. Pinning you against the counter.
“I just-“
“Then tell me to go home.”
The button of his jeans grazes your groin and sends sparks up your spine. You recoil slightly, but he’s got his massive hands on your wrists to keep you in place.
“My husb-“
“Don’t. S’not what I said. Tell me to go home. Tell me to go home, and I’ll leave. S’easy as that.”
The coarse hair of his beard brushes along your jaw. Visible goosebumps rise all the way up your neck and down your arms.
“John, he-“
A throaty growl from him.
“He’s not getting a lick of you.”
And then somehow he’s got you on your back on the couch. Shoved off the pile of laundry and pushed you down. His eyes are near pitch black and hungry. Ravenous. He tears off your shorts. Doesn’t wait for you to hoist your hips, just yanks so hard that you’re a little worried you’ll get thrown off the couch with them.
He is wretched. Planting wet kisses from the inside of your knee all the way up to your sex frustratingly slow. Big hands splayed over your hips to keep you from bucking up into his mouth. He’s got this maddeningly smug smile on his face like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say I told you so. Like he knew this was going to happen from the start, you were just too stupid to see.
Your underwear is embarrassingly wet from your little go on the dryer. Your pussy puffy and sensitive underneath. You whine when he kisses over the damp spot. Laves his tongue over your folds without pulling them to the side. He makes some comment about the state of you that borders on snarky, but you choose to ignore it.
When he finally does rid you of your panties, there’s a moment of clarity where you realize what you’re doing. You push up on your elbows and try to roll out from under him, but he gives your clit a mean slap that forces you back onto the couch and ends your protest. Sends you to that liminal, clouded headspace where all you can focus on is how desperately you need to come.
It’s clear he’s savoring the moment. Running the point of his tongue through your folds. Teasing at your hole. Artfully swirling around your clit, but never close enough to give you the friction you’re so desperately craving. Planting hot, wet kisses on your inner thighs. Leaves a few love bites in his wake like he’s boasting; so certain your husband wouldn’t get close enough to notice that he had no problem decorating you as he pleased.
You’re a mess. Being taken apart stitch by stitch. Panting and whining and begging for more. Your orgasm is coiling tight under your belly without him having to do much. Any other time you’d have felt a little pathetic, but you were too preoccupied to care now.
He finally brings his hands up and you think he’s about to stuff you full, but he only lets his fingers drag slowly along your sensitive sex. Collects some of your arousal and pulls it up toward your naval. Watches the goosebumps form under his touch.
He rucks your shirt up with his free hand and immediately wraps his lips around your pebbled nipples. Tongues at them. Lets his teeth graze teasingly over them. And whatever one he’s not got currently in his mouth, he’s working his fingers over. Pinching and flicking until you’re teary eyed and squirming under him.
And then finally, fucking finally, he ducks back down and fixes his mouth on your clit. Sucks gently on the swollen bud for just a moment and then companies his mouth with two fingers bullying their way inside you.
The stretch is almost uncomfortable in its suddenness, but you quickly get used to it. The pleasure is blinding. Forces you to throw your head back against the cushion and screw your eyes tightly shut. A string of high, needy moans float through your gaped lips.
He’s sweet, Jesus, is he. Hums and groans with his mouth still on your bundle of nerves. Pulls away just enough to tell you how pretty your pussy is taking him before going back to work on your sensitive clit. You want to scream. You think you may actually come entirely undone on this couch if he doesn’t stop.
And then your orgasm coils so tightly within you that it explodes outward. Tears through you and leaves every square inch of your skin sizzling. He doesn’t let up. Pins you down by the stomach with his forearm and continues down his warpath. The sounds his fingers make when they sink into you are so pornographic that it makes your face hot.
You eventually find it in you to warble out something that sounded like please, too much. And he pulled off, still with that smug grin pulling his lips now surrounded by glistening slick caught in the hair of his beard.
He gives you one last kiss. Lewd and wet and so searing hot you’re worried it will actually blister the sensitive flesh of your cunt. He’ll sit back on his haunches and fuss with the button and zipper of his jeans before saying something horrible and cheeky like
“C’mon, doll. Thought you were set on payin’ me back.”
#he sees a family with a present but shitty father and says ‘it’s free real estate’ I hate him#moongreenlight#moongreenlightwrites#cod mw2#call of duty#cod x reader#141 headcanons#captain price smut#captain john price smut#captain john price x reader#captain john price#captain price#price cod#john price#cod price#141 x reader#x reader
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omg !! rate (dealer or not i don't mind !!) spoiling reader after she's had a tough n emotional week :( projecting rn !! ilysm and ur writing is amazing !!
so sorry it’s so late! i’ve only just started properly writing again :( love ya
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— “y’okay kid?” a gruff mutter echoed from outside the bathroom as you lay still, eyes so focused yet so withdrawn as you watched the way your fingers floated in the now lukewarm bath rafe had run earlier. huffing meekly in agreement, you listened intently as his footsteps shifted, lingering for a moment. “be back soon, alright doll?” he called once more, secretly wishing for more than a distant sigh. “m’kay” you whispered, resting your head back against the cool tile.
rafe cameron was many things but never a liar, well — never to you at least. he said he’d be back soon, and back soon he was. yet, it felt like hours till you heard the familiar sound of his heavy footsteps, alongside a not so familiar rustling.
you saw it coming, the stuff knocks on the bathroom door once again, that didn’t mean you were pleased to hear them. the thought of getting out, or even just moving was exhausting, especially after such a long week, or the week of hell as you’d named it earlier, earning a sympathetic chuckle from your love as he adjusted himself in the drivers seat, ready and waiting to pick you up from work.
“c’mon darlin’ you gotta get out now, waters cold” he stated firmly, much unlike his earlier pleas. “m’coming” you huffed. “i’ma leave you to it, meet me downstairs”
it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to be so matter of fact with you anymore, he’d sharp learned that pleas and coaxing does nothing for you, never as beneficial as simply telling you.
patting the last layer of your skincare into your face, you turned slowly to open the bathroom door, eyes widening as quickly as the could as you took in the arrangement on your shared bed — tulips, pink ones specifically, chocolates, all splayed out beautifully, laid carefully beside — a teddy bear?
“rafe?” you queried, feet padding against the cold floor, pace much quicker — bouncier even now that you’d festered for a couple of hours, recharging. “yeah doll?” he hummed from the lounge, throwing his head back over the couch to look at you, lips quick to turn upwards as he noticed the new plush hanging from your grasp. “another one?” you beamed, quickly rounding the cushioned chair, all but diving into his lap — in which he was quick to catch you, placing numerous soft kisses to your freshly combed hair.
“s’nothin, just remembered you said you needed an new addition, n’you’ve had a shit week, jus’ thought it might help..” he spoke, slender fingers raking through your hair as you lay in his lap, glossy lips and glassy eyes peering up at him as though he’d gifted you the moon.
#ʚ♡ɞ ☁: elle’s dreams#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x fem!reader#outer banks#rafe cameron#outerbanks rafe#rafecameron#rafe obx#obx#dom!rafe#soft!rafe cameron
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I wanted to continue off of last week’s Softie Sunday story about the Bakugo family bookstore. 🥰 I know it’s a liiiittle late but I finally got around to writing this out today.
『 ♡ bookstore owner!bakugo x fem!reader 』
content ; no quirks, mentions of children (two daughters: 16 and 10), Bakugo & reader are married
“So…there’s somethin’ I wanna tell ya,” your eldest daughter starts, pausing to await your reactions. Katsuki quirks an eyebrow at her and glances your way, signaling for you to take the reins.
“Sure honey. What is it?” You ask, placing your utensils on the table and folding your hands over one another, devoting your attention to her. It wasn’t uncommon for important conversations to happen over dinner in the Bakugo household, it’s where you all could come together to connect every night.
“I decided what I wanna do. Y’know, as a career…at least I think I do.”
Katsuki tilts his head in curiosity while taking another bite of his dinner. “Yeah? An’ what’s that?”
She takes a deep breath before smiling confidently.
“I wanna be an author, just like Aunt Momo!”
Katsuki’s eyes twinkle under the dining room lights, beaming over his daughter’s aspirations. She was always the kid with the wildest imagination, constantly drawing cute children’s stories throughout school and acing all her creative writing projects. You and Katsuki assumed she’d want to be writer or illustrator when she was older, but never wanted to push her on it. It’s a hobby she loved and you didn’t want to pressure her into turning it into a career.
“That’s fantastic, sweetie!” You praise, reaching across the table to touch her hand. She turns to Katsuki, putting her free hand on his shoulder.
“Plus, someone’s gotta be book smart like Pops to run our store. I wanna continue the family legacy.”
He’s stunned, speechless. The room remains quiet until the silence is broken with your youngest throwing her fists in the air, victoriously shouting, “See sis? I knew he’d cry!”
Katsuki bursts into laughter, wiping the stray tears away with the backs of his hands. “That predictable, huh? M’proud of you, peach. Your Ma and I love and support whatever you wanna do.”
Your eldest crinkles her nose before grinning widely, just like her father does.
“Why don’t we call Aunt Momo after dinner, see if she has time to take you to lunch to talk about it?” You offer, squeezing her hand assuringly. “I’m sure she’d love to talk your ear off about writing.” She nods excitedly, her smile lighting up the room.
“I’ve got an idea for ya,” Katsuki says, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “How ‘bout we let you do a reading at the shop? Compile some of your stories in an anthology of sorts and read ‘em to customers, get yourself out there. We’ve got the space.”
“Really?!” She gasps, eyes wide with excitement.
He smiles, leaning his elbows back onto the table. “It’s our store and I’m the boss. We can figure it out after your talk with Aunt Ponytail.”
She jumps up from her seat, feet padding down the hallway to her room while exclaiming, “I’m gonna call her now!”
“There she goes, reminds me of someone I know,” you tease, winking in Katsuki’s direction. He shakes his head with a chuckle. In the distance, you can faintly hear “Auntie Momo! How are you?! I want to…” coming from her room.
It’s hard to believe how much a little local bookstore has helped shape your family into what it is today, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
#reis softie sundays#katsuki bakugo#bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugo fluff#bakugou fluff#soft bakugou#soft Bakugo#my hero academia#my hero academia fluff
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Dun Dun Dunnn!!! Arkham Security Guard Danny's Epic Backstory! with Dick Grayson
I fell in love with the Arkham Guard AU by @xy-is-i and like most projects I work on, rather than starting where the story starts, I end up going backwards and delve into the backstory. And I mean waaay into the backstory.
Because while the stories might start when the Bats run into Danny and Jazz working at Arkham Asylum isn’t where they first met.
Long, long ago, through shenanigans unknown, Robin and Phantom became friends, and honestly, they both really needed it.
Dick Grayson, age 16, has been Robin for a while, but this is so early in the day that there just aren’t many teen heroes or sidekicks yet. He’s basically pioneering the field of child heroes.
For Danny, 14, Sam and Tucker are great, but there are just some parts of superhero-ing that they just don’t get when you don’t have to hide a secret identity.
Batman, for his part, does not approve of the friendship. He’s already not a fan of metas in his city, but when the two of them get together, the chaos twin energy between Dick and Danny multiplies. Worse, it brings about the pun-pocalypse, and there are only so many puns Bruce can take. And then there’s the sibling discourse…
After all the stories Danny has told about his family, Dick is desperate to have a little sibling of his own, and the two repeatedly gang up on Batman to adopt another kid. Their acting may be stilted, but the efforts are constant.
It never works. Bruce doesn’t have empty nest syndrome yet, and tiny, homicidal Dick was already more than he could handle while he was trying to figure out how to adult, but he also can’t stand that he’s disappointing Dick. Alfred isn’t helping either; he wants more grandkids.
And there’s no way in HELL that he’s adopting Phantom.
But for Robin and Phantom, they finally have someone they can talk to who gets it. They can vent about their rogues, get help with homework, bitch about balancing their vigilantism with going to school, talk about whatever TV they’ve been watching, anything and everything. It’s not uncommon to see them hanging off the Gotham gargoyles or grabbing a bite on top of the Nasty Burger.
There’s an unspoken rule between them that neither pries into the other’s personal life or secret identity, but as they get more comfortable with each other, little things slip out. Then more. Numbers are swapped, bits and pieces about their families come out.
Later on, homes and secret hideouts are visited and they know each other’s first names. It’s not a problem for Dick to go to the Fenton’s, but technically, Danny isn’t allowed in the Bat Cave or the Manor. Those visits happen behind Batman’s back, and they were almost caught when they hid in the chandelier before Danny remembered he could turn them invisible. (Alfred encourages the friendship and bakes extra cookies once when he finds out Danny is over.)
And eventually the relationship grows until they’re comfortable enough to swap full names. No more secrets.
Dick likes going over to Danny’s place since it’s a chance to feel a lot more normal, even if they have to be very careful and either stay in civilian clothes in the shared areas or stay locked in Danny’s room if they’re in uniform. Danny also goes out of his way to keep Dick from ever meeting his sister, Jazz (Danny knows he has a type). It doesn’t stop them from swapping their numbers under the door. (Jazz will unofficially be Dick’s therapist for years after this)
But being this close, Dick can also see just how stressed Danny is trying to maintain this lifestyle. Doesn’t help either he has to listen to Danny’s parents go on and on about wanting to rip their own son apart, molecule by molecule. Sure, Danny has a couple friends to help him, but he doesn’t have the same mentor or support system Dick has. For a kid his age to be anything other than a sidekick is practically unheard of in this day and age. Superheroes are still fairly few and far between, but Batman helped start a group called the Justice League a couple years ago with the idea that heroes could help each other. Maybe there’s something there…
So, Dick starts the Teen Titan. He had originally intended for Danny to join him as one of the founding members, but are you kidding? Jump City is on the opposite side of the country! He has school! and parents! (That’s the point, Danny. We’re trying to get you away from the parents that want to dissect you) He can’t just up and leave home and run halfway across the country!
So, Dick found the other iconic members and still joined the Titans, but Danny will always have an open invitation to join them and a room at the Tower, something Danny does occasionally take advantage of. Jump City doesn’t spawn as many natural portals as Gotham, but he visits whenever he can and basically haunts the tower the entire month of December to get away from his family.
Still, the distance and growing up are hard on Dick and Danny, and they grow more distant over the years, but they’ll always have each other’s backs in an emergency. Dick was there when Danny thought he was turning into a monster (it was just ghost puberty). Danny stole the Spectre Speeder so they could scour the Ghost Zone after Jason died. And Danny would eventually become godfather to Dick’s daughter, Mar’i.
But things cooled down between them… at least until a panicked Danny called because his sister just took a job at Arkham…
Next>>
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inspired by a conversation i had with @serenity-lattes over a fic i'm writing
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"Hey, Steve, why didn't you tell us you had a brother?"
There were a lot of things that Steve still didn't know about his family. He didn't know his great-grandparents moved to the United States from Italy until he had to do an ancestry project his senior year, and he'd just learned last week that there were others on his mother's side with hearing loss like him. Still, Steve knew that despite all the secrecy, there was no way he had a secret brother.
"I don't have a brother," Steve told Robin as much, coming back into the living room to see Robin and Eddie huddled over something. "What makes you think that?"
"Harrington, I think dear ol' dad's lying to you," Eddie teased, handing over the paper they were staring at.
Birth Certificate
This is to certify that Robert Steven Harrington Jr weighing 8 lbs. 13 oz. was born on the 13th day of December to Robert and Theresa Harrington in the year of 1967.
"How the hell did you find my birth certificate?" Steve balked, watching his best friend and boyfriend stare at him like he had two heads.
"Your birth certificate?" Robin repeated, eyes drifting back down to stare at the paper in his hands.
"Who else's would it be? Am I missing something?" It wasn't too uncommon for Steve to miss the joke, especially with people as quick-witted as Robin and Eddie. Still, this one seemed particularly confusing to even the others, with all three of them staring at each other in complete cluelessness.
"No, no, no," Eddie spoke up then, snatching the certificate out of Steve's hands and holding it up to the light like that might make reading it easier. "There is no way I'm dating a Robert."
Wait...
"You thought my legal name was Steve?"
Was that all this was? Steve didn't fully understand the big deal, especially since he'd never once gone by his legal first name. Even as a kid his parents were calling him Steven, eventually caving and calling him Steve as he wished by the time he entered middle school. He thought everyone had known by now, what with Tommy choosing to call him 'Robert' whenever he was upset with Steve.
"Why would I think anything else? Steven Harrington, how could you not tell me!" Robin shouted, playfully hitting his shoulder when all he did was laugh.
"Robert Harrington," Eddie corrected, immediately pulling a groan from his boyfriend.
"Uh uh, you're not calling me that," Steve decided, taking the certificate back and tucking it away in the drawer where they'd found it. Tomorrow he'd have to dig through the house and hide anything else he didn't want them to see, including any pictures his mother might have left lying around.
"How about Junior?" Robin tried, bursting into laughter at Eddie's responsive cackle. "I mean, who knew someone would go by a nickname of their middle name?
"Are you two done yet?" Steve groaned, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling.
"Aw, c'mon, Robbie, you love us." That was Eddie judging by the arm quickly slung over Steve's shoulders and the kiss planted firmly on his cheek. "I just can't believe you didn't tell us that Stevie isn't your name."
"Stevie has never been my name," Steve laughed, stepping away from Eddie's hug and laughing when the man's arms reached out to hold onto him tighter. "I'll take it over Robert."
"I knew you loved it, baby," Eddie teased, laughing at Steve's expression.
Then Steve grinned, turning to face Eddie so he could lean in close. Right as Eddie licked his lips in anticipation of a kiss, Steve patted his cheek and said, "Baby, you didn't even know my name."
He and Robin laughed until they could hardly breathe, but Eddie was the one laughing when he had the entire Party calling Steve "Rob" the next morning.
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Henlo! I saw that requests for Fyodor are open! And I was wondering if you could write something about Fyodor as a parent if you’re comfortable with that. For some reason I can’t find enough of those and I really wanna see how you’d do it!
(Not as the reader’s parent btw, maybe having a child/children with the reader. But I just wanna see how you think he’d behave in that situation and how you think it would all go down)
"Come on, papa!" Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader 。˚♡₊
╰┈➤ Dad!Fyodor ༉‧₊˚✧
Description ; How Fyodor acts towards his child/children!
Warnings ; None
A/N; IVE BEEN LOWKEY WAITING FOR THIS REQUEST BRO IM SO EXCITED OVER THIS YOU DONT EVEN GET IT ALSO P/T STANDS FOR PARENTAL TITLE BC IDK WHAT YALL WANNA BE CALLED YKYK AND D/N IS DAUGHTERS NAME OBVI
Headcannons !! ༊*·˚
→ Dad!Fyodor who lets his kid/s play with his hair, too, messing it up and laughing at their fathers disheveled appearance.
→ Dad!Fyodor who quietly reads your kids bed time stories, letting them sit on his lap while he holds the book in front of them, pointing to the pictures with a smile.
→ Dad!Fyodor who picks out the most whack ass outfits for your kid, proudly displaying it out to you and frowning at your hesitant smile.
→ Dad!Fyodor who discouraged your children from cutting their hair and braids it or puts it up for them every morning before school.
→ Dad!Fyodor who (very frequently) helps your kid/s with their homework or projects for school, not quite giving them answers but shoving nudging them in the right direction.
→ Dad!Fyodor who teaches his kid(s) the basics of playing the cello, letting them get a feel for the strings. He would teach them how to hold the bow and would let them stand beside him and watch him play.
→ Dad!Fyodor who cooks recipes that he learned in Russia for you and your children, encouraging all of you to try foreign dishes. They give him a feeling of nostalgia and wanting to pass those special foods on to his kid(s).
→ Dad!Fyodor who absolutely tries passing on happy group counseling hour to his kid/s when they seem sad or upset.
Scenarios !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
Your keys jingled in the keyhole of your front door as you pushed it open, revealing the living room that you had longed to sit down in all day. Work sucked, you weren't going to lie, but there was something that was allegedly important going on, so you had no choice but to attend.
Your husband volunteered to watch your daughter on her day off of school, which wasn't a totally uncommon occurrence due to Fyodors line of work. He didn't mind watching d/n, he likes it a lot, actually. Fyodor values the quality time he can spend with his kid just as much as the quality time he gets to spend with you.
The pitter patter of your daughters feet got louder the closer she got to the living room, rounding the corner and smiling. "P/t!"
"Hey, what'd I tell you about running?" You say with a quiet and amused giggle as she throws herself onto you, hugging your waist. You run your fingers over the pretty braids weaved into her hair with a smile. "Papa did your hair?" The little girl nods excitedly.
"Well, you look very, very pretty." Another set of footsteps can be heard, this time softer. Fyodor rounds the corner with a smile, pulling you into a hug.
"Mm, my dear." He says, resting his head on you shoulder for a moment before pulling away, starting back towards the kitchen. He waves at d/n to follow him. "Come on, sweetheart, come help me finish dinner." She excitedly runs after her father, earning a soft and faint giggle from him.
Upon following the two of them into the kitchen, you can smell the beef stroganoff cooking, watching your daughter step up onto the little stool she dragged in next to Fyodor. They stand at the counter, Fyodor making sure she's nowhere near anything dangerous or hot. He gently pushes over a measuring cup filled with beef broth.
"Alright, Malyshka. Just pour this into the pan, and be very careful, alright?" He says softly, his voice gentle as he measures out the whipping cream. The beef broth can be heard being poured into the pan from the spot you're standing in, smiling at your husband and daughter making dinner together. Within a couple of seconds, Fyodor is handing d/n measurements of other ingredients, such as Worcestershire sauce and dijon mustard. He lets her stir it all in, guiding her whenever he sees fit.
"Alright, we're all done. Here, why don't you go sit down, I'll bring you and P/t your dinners, yeah?" He smiles at the young girl, rubbing her back before patting it. She nods and skitters off to join you at the dinner table. She blabbers on to you about everything she did that day, even running off to bring proof of her activities.
She comes back out, proudly showing off a coloring page filled with scribbles in numerous different hues. One of them was only slightly better than the other, the lesser messy one was labeled with Fyodor's name in his sloppy handwriting to match the coloring. You grinned at both of them, taking the thin sheets of paper and studying them intently.
"Wow, they're both wonderful!" Your daughter wears a proud smile at the praise from you, excitedly placing her hands on her hips. "Are ya gonna hang them up on the fridge?" You nod and ruffle her hair a bit, just in time for Fyodor to bring the food in for all three of you. He sets the plates down on the table, listening to the conversation still taking place between you and your daughter.
"Ofcourse I will, I love them both very much." Your daughter smiles, blowing on the small piece of meat impaled by her fork. "Maybe me and papa can have a coloring contest, you can be the judge!" She says to you excitedly. Fyodor smiles. "How about another night, Malyshka? It's getting close to your bedtime." He says, continuing eating his food. "Aw, but papa-" she sadly whines, Fyodor shaking his head. "No 'but''s, d/n. We can tomorrow night though, I promise." Fyodor smiles at her while she extends her outstretched pinky to her dad.
"Pinky promise?" She quietly mumbles. He grins and interlocks his pinky with hers, reaching across the table to do so. "I promise. You know i never break my promises, Malyshka." She smiles and nods in agreement. "Yeah, right. Tomorrow night then!" She says with a grin.
"Tomorrow night. Alright, d/n, time to go get ready for bed. Go put on pajamas and we'll come say goodnight in five minutes." You say to the small girl with a smile. She nods in compliance and quickly walks back to her room to change into sleep clothing. You look over at Fyodor, who is already looking back at you with a loving gaze.
"Ah, I forgot to apologize for the late dinner earlier, dear. I was quite busy being dressed up in tiaras and what not." Your heart warms at the thought of your husband bonding with your daughter. "It's alright, don't worry about it." You gently caress his shoulders before taking all the plates away from the dining table, washing them in the kitchen and sticking them in the dishwasher. Placing your hands on your hips, you nod in approval of your quick work. Fyodor waits for you in the doorway, nodding in the direction of d/n's room with a gentle smile.
You both approach the room, knocking to make sure she was finished getting ready for bed before you both entered. You said goodnight to her and kissed her cheek while Fyodor said goodnight and kissed her forehead. Before Fyodor could stand straight up again, d/n giggled and whispered to him.
"I'm gonna beat you tomorrow, so prepare yourself, papa. It's gonna be the best coloring you've ever seen!" She proudly claims, clearly confident in her coloring skills. Fyodor chuckles. "I believe it whole heartedly. Get some sleep, or you may wake up without that skill." He says, making sure she's 100% tucked in. She nods in understanding and snuggles into her blanket.
"Goodnight, Malyshka." Fyodor whispers, gently pulling her door closed a bit, leaving a crack between the door and the frame.
A/N (#2); I'm super sorry if any mistakes were made, I didn't proofread because I'm suuuuper tired lol, but I just wanna put it out there that I am absolutely willing to do more dad!Fyodor. Dad!Fyodor and soft!Fyodor literally give me life u don't even get it (recipe I referenced was from Natasha Kitchen)
#fyodor x reader#bsd fyodor#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#bungou stray dogs fyodor#fyodor dostoevsky#bungo stray dogs#bsd#bsd headcanons#bungou stray dogs#bsd x reader#kid fic#headcannons#headcanon#bsd fanfic#requests#dad!fyodor
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hello hello! can i just say, i love your takes so much. it feels like you’ve read my mind on how katara would actually react in certain situations. currently myself, im rewriting the structure of the show in a way that makes more sense (aka, getting rid of kataang altogether and focusing on actual growth for each character including aang!) and im struggling a bit on aang actually!
we know how brykke basically stunted aang’s growth because of their weirdness. but what if aang never had a crush on katara? what if he sees katara as the big sister he always wanted instead, making their relationship more wholesome than weird? i think he’s such a centralized character, but when i develop the others beyond the show, aang feels like he’s left behind.
maybe that’s part of it too! he is a boy out of time, and now more of a concept than a person as far as anyone else outside of his immediate group knows. in this au where i intend to age everyone up, i’m just curious to see what kind of man aang would grow up into if his motivations for katara was never there. i see him as trying to hold onto his lost childhood and then having to come to terms with the fact he can’t. but i’d love to hear your thoughts. who is aang outside of that? his journey has the opportunity to be so fascinating, but brykke kind of said hey! let’s not get into that! let’s make him a creepy god boy who gets whatever he wants!
(also to note, this version of aang is meant to be with azula and while i love the meta ive seen about taang i do personally hc her as a lesbian but i do like them but yeah!)
also sorry if this is too rambly i’m just very excited!
hi! This is such a nice message, and please never apologize for rambling! My blog is a safe space for all ramblers. Your fic sounds like a very exciting project!
I definitely agree with you that he’d try to hold onto his childhood & have a hard time with his grief; coming to terms with the depth of his loss would be an exceptionally interesting arc. His people were victims of genocide: his culture and his loved ones were brutally murdered. Nobody can replace that community, not even his chosen family of the Gaang, and certainly not a romantic partner.
But Aang certainly is somebody outside of all that tragedy too. I think his cheerfulness and optimism, his playfulness, his resilience, his reluctance to assume responsibility, and his prodigiousness are all important facets of his personality.
Here's my piping hot take: Aang is James Potter with a more tragic backstory and less of a cruel streak. Think about it: mischievous, funny, adventurous, brave, enjoys attention, popular, devoted to friends, prodigious, entitled when it comes to love interests, morally inflexible, dedicated to Good, can be too arrogant to recognize his own faults. We hear that James became a pretty decent guy, so there's plenty of potential for growth for Aang, especially if he doesn't get his forever girl at age twelve.
Aang has a big heart and stringent morals, but is still a bit of a trickster. Not in a malicious way, but in a “I have a zest for life way” that gives him a little bit of an edge beyond just being a sunshine boy. You can see this even in ep 1, when he sacrifices himself so that the village would be left alone, only to haul ass out of the Fire Nation ship as soon as they’re safe. You can also see it in The Great Divide, where he straight up just fabricates history lmao. Lying is not an issue for him at all, which indicates it’s not really part of his moral code.
On the other hand, he obviously feels very strongly about taking life, which indicates a black and white approach towards morality that is not uncommon in kids. I could see an older, more mature Aang being led to question his own approach to morality, particularly by someone like Zuko, who probably finds violence a lot more palatable than lying. I think there are very interesting cultural differences that can be explored here, which doesn’t necessarily mean that Aang will change his opinions, only that he’ll have greater respect for how other cultures see right and wrong, and that he can keep Air Nomad culture alive without taking on the burden of being the manifestation of that culture. He has the innate impulse to try to see the best in people, which is at odds with his black and white morals sometimes. Related to that, he really struggles with morally grey characteristics in his friends. I think that if he had a fleshed out opportunity to properly disagree with his friends, he may not necessarily change his own mind, but he might grow to value his friends' freedom of choice over imposing his own values on them, since one of the cornerstones of Air Nomad philosophy is apparently about freedom. I think his pacifist voice is an important contribution to their ragtag group of overpowered pre-teens and teens and I love it when that aspect is explored in fics.
I've seen some really good depictions of Aang-not-obsessed-with-Katara in fanfiction (Southern Lights has my favourite one; in fact it's my fave characterization of basically everyone except for Mai). I see most of his flaws as things he can grow out of, but only if he encounters difficult situations and learns to grow. Have fun with your fic, and please do share in any relevant tags once you start posting!
#can i ask you a question?#anti kataang#pro aang#y'all i can be pro-aang i think he's got a lot of potential#I will die on the “Aang is actually James Potter hill” btw#if the shoe fits yk#my meta
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Maximo "Lucky" Jonronero is extremely ADHD coded. in this essay i will
edit: someone asked for the essay, and since im not just about to sleep now, I can be coherent. lets start with the most damning evidence:
1. What he says to Miner during 5-X
Lucky: "I know...it's just... I was never much of anyone as a kid. Bad grades, couldn't ever focus, mom and dad yellin' at me... But on the field, everything was different. Without baseball...I feel like I'll just be that useless kid again."
this is, easily, already a common story among athletes with ADHD! not only that, but if he had no access to the right medication- and since i don't think he knows, he doesn't- it would be extremely hard to do schoolwork, much less homework, paired with all that pressure.
this also means, of course, his mom and dad likely also have undiagnosed ADHD, and possibly are projecting onto him! so yeah parent issues
2. His mannerisms at the start
at first this doesnt seem like that damning of evidence, but as a person with ADHD, his remarks resemble me. a lot.
one effect of having ADHD is this little bitch called emotional dysregulation, in which you can't- not "it's hard to", you can't- control your emotions to a degree, and they tend to get out of hand. from personal experience, it sucks ass, and especially if you dont know what it is, you get mad at your emotions for making you look like a child.
Lucky is mad. a lot. he also seems to bottle up as much as he can, a common pattern with myself. he also seems to understand that his overreactions are stupid, but he really just can't stop himself- if this is a pattern, it partially explains why he had a quicker turnaround than most would think to apologize to Paige. he KNOWS his constant anger is fucking dumb, but he can't stop it. he literally, biologically, has no power to stop it, as a person with adhd off meds.
3. The way he acts, in general
he gets distracted halfway through conversations. this also parallels with just how fast he was able to zone out in 5-3. this isn't very hard evidence, but it further perpetuates the "lack of focus" bit, which is also something he hates about himself! without knowing he has ADHD, that's not an uncommon jump of emotions
he doesn't seem to have any other interest than playing baseball at the moment (though it doesnt seem like that was always the case), but even then it seems to be dwindling out despite his best attempts (a common pattern with hyperfixations). he also seems to immediately latch onto coaching!
he moves around, a lot. we don't see him happy stim, but that jumping animation is likely an angry stim, which yes, also happens. he seems to hate staying still, which is emphasized by the fact that he needs to. for long periods of time. hence him sneaking out to the gym as much as he can. AND A GOOD ADD-ON BY @kittyfirest0rm - THE GUM. THE FUCKING GUM. HE CHEWS GUM WHILE PLAYING BASEBALL!!
he's quick to emphasize, when he's not angry. he's not very keen on some social cues, but he definitely seems to get emotions. in 5-3 he's probably surprised at Miner's easy admitting that he was injured and would stay willingly, but he also seems to get it when Miner talks about overworking himself and his emotions. (he zones out though during the explanations. classic.)
there's more i could add, but the post is getting long, so here come get your juice lol
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Oh look, another Gravity Falls fic! I started this one a while ago but finally got around to finishing and editing it! Title is from the song "It's Alright" by Mother Mother
And hey it actually kind of fits Week 4 of @forduary cause it is older Ford *jazz hands*
You can read on AO3 but I will put the fic under the cut here as well!
Summary: Weirdmageddon is over, everything should be fine, right? But Mabel and Ford find themselves confronted with feelings they'd rather forget, and find comfort from each other. (Aka, Mabel has nightmares and Ford is there to comfort her because we love fluff and Mabel and Ford bonding)
It was late. Ford wasn’t exactly sure what time it was, but the kids had gone to bed hours ago, and he had sent Stan off to get some sleep, what? An hour, two hours ago? Something like that. His body was drained and he knew he should sleep. But he knew what awaited him if he did. Sure, Bill was gone, but nightmares would still come, he knew it. Especially after all that had happened. Even in the waking hours, he couldn’t get rid of the image of him pointing the memory gun at Stan, no matter how hard he wished it would leave him. After all, despite Stan remembering more and more, there were still holes in his memory. Which is why Ford was still up, rifling through boxes he had long forgotten about, looking for anything that might help his brother fill in those holes.
Pulling out another photobook, Ford started flipping through it. He had already put a few aside to show Stan when he woke up, but this one was mostly pictures from college. He put it in the useless pile – though he supposed he might share it with Fiddleford at some point. Ford wasn’t sure if it was irony or a sign of his poor life choices that two of his closest friends had lost their memories because of his decisions.
With a sigh, Ford picked up a frame from the box, only to freeze when he heard a floorboard creak.
Quickly looking up, he was expecting to see Stan – it hadn’t been uncommon the last day or so to find his brother up and about at any hour of the day or night. However, this time, it wasn’t his brother who was up. Instead, he saw his great niece walking past the doorway.
“Mabel?” Setting down the frame, Ford stood up, trying his best to ignore how hard the movement was. Maybe he should try to get some sleep…
Mabel had already walked past the room, but a second later, her head poked into the doorway. “Oh, Grunkle Ford! I…didn’t know you were up.” She fiddled with her nightgown, her eyes flickering to and fro much faster than normal.
“I was just looking through some old boxes.” Ford gestured to the box he had been perusing. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
Mabel glanced at the box, then the floor, then at Ford, then at the wall, before looking at the ground once again. “I uh…” She swallowed, then said in a quiet voice, “…nightmare…”
Sadness pierced Ford’s heart. He was used to nightmares, and in a sense, he knew it was his fault that he had so many. But Mabel? She was far too young and innocent to be dealing with such troubles. He took a step forward, but stopped. He didn’t want to make anything worse. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Looking at him, Mabel opened her mouth, then closed it and bit her lip before shaking her head, which only made Ford more worried about her.
Glancing at the box by the couch, Ford decided a different tactic might be helpful – one that he used quite often with himself – distraction. “Would you like to help me look through my old things?”
Mabel perked up at that. “Really?”
Ford nodded and gave her his best smile before motioning her to come closer. “Of course. There is a lot to look through and I could use the help.”
A smile slowly grew on Mabel’s face and she made her way to the box and picked up an old framed certificate – his diploma. For a moment, she just looked at it, then she spoke. “Wow, the seventies! You really are old!”
A chuckle escaped Ford before he could stop it. He reached down and took the frame from her, shaking his head as he placed it in the useless pile. “I suppose I am getting a little old.” He reached down and picked up another photo album then sat down, patting the space beside him.
Mabel grinned and plopped herself down next to him, leaning her head against his arm as he opened the book, only to straighten up.
“Oh my gosh is that you and Stan as teenagers?!?” Her smile was contagious.
“It is…” Ford said quietly, trying not to think too much about the lump that grew in his throat as he was faced with the memories the pictures brought to the surface. Hopefully that was a good sign that they would help Stan remember. Even if they only served to remind him of all the things he wished he could change.
“Ooo who is that?” Mabel pointed to another picture.
And so, the night continued, Mabel asking questions and Ford telling her stories of when he was younger. Ford was in the middle of talking about one of his favorite classes at a summer camp when he glanced down and realized that Mabel was fast asleep, using his arm as a pillow.
A soft smile grew on his face, and he carefully set the book they had been looking through to the side. He knew he should simply take Mabel back to her bed and continue his work. There was still so much left to go through. But then, in her sleep, Mabel curled up closer to him. He supposed he could rest his eyes. Just for a few hours…
------
The sky split open, turning the world red. Laughter filled the air.
“Thanks Shooting Star!”
Bill’s voice echoed around Mabel.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Bill’s voice sound behind her. Spinning around, Mabel shrunk back as the demon grew bigger and bigger. Screams surrounded her, growing louder and louder until she couldn’t hear herself think anymore. Chaos reigned. Then suddenly the noise died and she only heard one voice.
“Who you talkin' to?”
She was looking at Stan again, confused, lost, not knowing who he was, or who she was. He turned and looked at her, then a chorus of her family’s voices spoke all together.
“It’s all your fault.”
“I didn’t mean to!” Mabel cried out, tears growing in her eyes.
“Your fault, your fault, your fault!”
The voices grew louder and louder, no matter how hard she pleaded, tried to apologize, they wouldn’t stop. She was drowning in guilt, it was pressing down on her chest, heavier and heavier until she couldn’t breathe.
Gasping, Mabel started awake. The voices were gone. The only sounds were Dipper’s quiet breathing and the occasional bug hitting the window in the attic. But her heart was still racing, and the guilt from her dream was still pressing down on her. Waking up hadn’t freed her from the reality of her actions.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t haunted by Weirdmageddon, and all of the events of the last week. And she hadn’t even lived in the apocalyptic world that long, not compared to the townsfolk or Dipper - there were times when she had heard him muttering in his sleep. And then yesterday she had once again stood face to face with her mistakes, when she had found herself lost with thousands of versions of herself.
Holding out her hand, Mabel saw her entire arm shaking. She felt cold despite the humidity of the attic. Swallowing hard, she looked at Dipper. For a split second, she considered waking him. She knew he wouldn’t mind, not that much at least, but…he didn’t know the whole truth. About how Weirdmageddon had really started.
Forcing herself to move, Mabel got out of bed and shakily made her way to the door, then down the stairs. She didn’t quite know where she was going. Maybe to find Stan… he always make her feel better. Or…Mabel didn’t realize where her feet were taking her until she was standing in the doorway to the secret room her and Dipper had fought over what seemed like ages ago.
It was Ford’s room now. Though there still wasn’t a bed in it, just a couch where Ford was conked out…had he really been sleeping on the couch for weeks? How had she never realized that until now? Just another reason she was selfish. The guilt in her chest grew.
“Mabel?”
Ford’s voice made her jump. She thought he'd been asleep. But he was sitting up now, one hand resting on his hip and the other straightening his glasses.
The guilt monster pressed down on her more. Ford needed sleep. Only a few days ago, he had been staying up till all ends of the night. He was finally resting and she had ruined it. Swallowing, she opened her mouth, trying to make herself apologize and tell him she was just going to get a drink, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Nightmare?” He asked quietly, concern lining his voice.
Hugging herself, Mabel tried blinking back the tears that were growing in her eyes, she shook her head. Her performance must not have been very convincing however, because Ford patted the couch next to him.
“Come here.” It was a gentle invitation, and despite knowing she didn’t deserve it, Mabel couldn’t stop herself. She rushed forward and sat down on the couch, curling up in on herself as she did.
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and pulled her into a small side hug.
“It’s alright…it…everything is okay now.” Ford spoke quietly as his hand moved up and down in a comforting motion.
However, they had the opposite effect on Mabel. Tears blurred her vision as the guilt and regret pressed in on her.
“No it’s not!” A sob shook her body and she curled in on herself even more.
For a moment, there was no response, then Ford spoke again, his voice heavy with remorse. “I’m so sorry, Mabel…”
She froze at the unexpected words and slowly looked up at him. He was staring at the ground, his face downcast. “Wh…what?”
He turned to look at her. “Weirdmageddon…everything that happened. It…it’s all my fault. I let Bill into our universe, I couldn’t stop him before…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry my mistakes hurt you…”
Each word weighed down on her more and more. “Grunkle Ford it’s not…it’s not your fault it…” her throat tightened and she closed her eyes tight, resulting in a tear rolling down her cheek. “…it’s mine…”
Even with her eyes closed, Mabel could feel Ford straighten up. “Mabel, it is not your-”
“Yes it is!” Mabel opened her eyes and looked right at Ford, not even trying to stop her crying. “I-I gave B-Bill the rift! I…if it wasn’t for me W-Weirdmageddon never would’ve happened! Stan wouldn’t have-” Her voice broke as sobs overtook her whole body, guilt pulling her down, down…
Arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm embrace.
“It’s not your fault, Mabel.” Ford’s voice was soft and kind, not the angry disbelief she had been expecting every time she had thought about telling anyone what had happened.
“Bill is a master manipulator…he’d do anything, say anything to get what he wants…wanted.”
Hiding her face in his sweater, Mabel was tempted to just let it go at that. Bill was awful…But… “I know…but I…I still didn’t want summer to end. I…I was scared and selfish and…I want to be better but what if I mess up again?!? What if I keep being selfish?” Anti-Mabel’s words echoed around in her head as Mabel curled in on herself.
Ford’s arms tightened around her and after a moment, he sighed and spoke softly.
“I know how you feel.”
Mabel froze. “You…you do?”
“I do.” Ford said, regret lining his voice. “When I was younger, I was so focused on what I wanted, that I hurt the person that meant the most to me. And then I ignored all of the warnings I saw about Bill because I wanted to make a name for myself…Even now…I…I was so…caught up in my frustration and desire to make things right that I didn’t even…think about how my distrust could backfire…I didn’t want to admit my mistakes and…by the time I did…it was too late…and Stanley paid the price for my pride.”
Looking up, Mabel saw Ford staring at the wall, tears pooling in his eyes.
He seemed to sense her gaze and turned attention to her, but not before quickly wiping his eyes and clearing this throat. Then he gave her a gentle smile.
“You’re a better person than I am, Mabel. I…the fact that you want to change now, at your age, shows more maturity than I’ve had for most of my life.”
Mabel saw the sadness lingering under his smile, and she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “You’re not a bad person, Grunkle Ford.”
Ford was silent for a moment, then he sighed. “I…I’m glad you think that, Mabel.”
Sitting back a little, Mabel met his gaze. “I don’t think so. I know so! Maybe…maybe we both have some things to work on but you aren’t a bad person. You are just the right amount of nerdy for Dipper, and you’ve done everything to get Stan’s memory back and you’ve sat with me and helped me feel better after I’ve had a nightmares. I wouldn’t want any other person to have come out of the portal.”
The smallest laugh escaped Ford. "I…okay, Mabel…I…thank you.”
Mabel smiled at him. “I can remind you any time you need it!”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Any time?”
“Cell phones!”
“Oh, right…I’m not the best at using them but…”
“Stan can help! At least…” Mabel hummed in thought. “Well, he can kind of use one, and you can learn!”
Ford laughed lightly and smiled. “I’ll do my best.”
“Promise?” Mabel held out her pinkie. For a moment, Ford just stared at it, then he interlocked his pinkie with hers.
“Promise.”
#gravity falls#gravity falls fanfiction#forduary#forduary 2024#ford pines#mabel pines#stanford pines#mabel and ford bonding#sweater twins#stan pines#dipper pines#stanley pines#(they are mentioned in it at least xD)#aceo writes things
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summary. when you’re burnt out, alhaitham is there for you, even though he’s just your roommate.
ft. alhaitham x y/n (no kaveh this time </3)
cw. modern!au, (optional: gifted kid) burnout
wc. 1.8k
notes. burnout sucks especially when you love academic validation :(( senioritis is coming for me soon and i’m trying to stay as motivated as possible to do work but even with college application results coming out well (i’m not letting digital footprint ruin anything for me but hey only 1 rejection and a deferral) i can feel that i’m losing energy to work on school. anyway a mid story for a mid feeling :((
on a tuesday night at 2am after a long day of work, alhaitham walked past your bedroom door. although it was dark, he could tell that your desk lamp was still on by the faint glow that shone from under the door. you had spent the past several days up this late working on some sort of project.
you looked miserable these days. your eyes were puffing, signifying that you had been crying recently and the bags under your eyes were so deep that he was certain that you had gotten an aggregate of an hour of sleep that week. during the rare times that you shared a meal together, you barely spoke and barely ate.
although school in general was a struggle, your major was significantly more demanding than the others. it wasn’t uncommon for you to stay up late working on an essay or finishing other homework, but this past week had been killing you and he could clearly tell.
however, he didn’t feel like it was his place to be saying anything to you. sure, you probably saw him more than your friends, especially since you were his roommate, but that didn’t mean the two of you were extremely close. other than the occasional grocery run together and conversations in the living room, you never spent much time together outside of the house.
but that night as he walked past your room, he heard sniffling. he paused, lifting his headphones to check if he heard correctly.
“i’m so tired of everything,” he heard you say from beyond the door, muffled by your sleeves.
he pursed his lips as he considered what he should do. on a normal day, he would have ignored it and gone to sleep since it was none of his business, but this time something was pulling on him to interfere, even if it was rude.
he took in a deep breath and knocked on your bedroom door.
“hey, are you in there?”
he heard nothing but silence on the other side of the door. then he heard some shuffling and the door clicked open.
as expected, you looked terrible. your eyes and cheeks were wet with tears and your nose was runny. your clothes and hair were disheveled and from beyond you, he could see several empty cups of coffee strewn all over your desk indicating that you were running on nothing but caffeine. your floor was covered in papers and pencils as if you had thrown them at the ground, perhaps out of a fit of anger.
“sorry, i must look like a mess right now,” you said, your voice thick, “but did you need something?”
haitham’s heart dropped after hearing your voice. he had never been so concerned for an almost stranger crying, but the tears threatening to spill over and the way your lips quivered slightly made him want to comfort you.
“i guess it would be stupid of me to ask if you’re alright.”
you gave him a small smile before looking at the ground. “it’s the thought that counts. but i’m sure you already know the answer. i know it’s a pigsty in here, but would you like to come inside?”
“if you don’t mind,” he responded as he stepped inside. besides there being a lot of stuff thrown around, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you made it out to be.
you ushered him onto the end of your bed and you sat beside him before letting out a long sigh.
“when did you start working today?” he turned to look at you.
you thought for a moment. “i woke up at around 6 this morning.”
“and went to sleep when?”
you went silent.
“i’m concerned for you. this isn’t healthy.”
“i know that, haitham. if i could, i would be sleeping from 9 to 6 everyday.”
he was confused. you were more than capable of finishing your work quickly and he had seen it done before. it was strange that you were even spending so much time on a project that he knew others had already finished a while ago.
“i’m just,” you started, “losing all my motivation. i don’t feel like doing anything. but the tuition is what’s preventing me from just dropping out entirely.”
you flopped onto the bed and covered your face.
“i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i used to love doing projects and writing essays for classes. but all of a sudden i just can’t do it anymore. i’m so tired.”
it was silent for a short moment as haitham considered what he should do. he knew that he was supposed to comfort someone in this kind of situation, but he didn’t want to cross a boundary that wasn’t meant to be crossed between roommates. despite this, he wanted to hold you in his arms in a way that wouldn’t be done between just roommates, even if it would make things awkward later.
he gently grabbed you and pulled you up so that you were in his arms. when he noticed that you were shaking from your sobs, he instinctively tightened his arms around you and stroked your head softly. you weren’t pushing him away, so he assumed he was making the right decision by doing this. with no comforting words to say, this was the most he could do for you.
after a long time, you finally pulled away from him, wiping your tears away.
“‘m sorry you had to see that,” you apologized although alhaitham was more sorry that he couldn’t do anything to help you. “i think that the lack of sleep has put my emotions into whack.”
he shook his head profusely. “i remember a friend of mine once saying that it’s important to release any kind of emotion you have.”
alhaitham followed your eyes as you stared up at the ceiling. “i’m not sure what it is. i feel like i’m such a disappointment. my grades are slipping at an exponential rate and i feel like i’ll never be able to catch up to them.”
he thought for a moment about what he could say to you. you got this and you’re doing great felt shallow and were probably very inconsiderate responses, even if he believed in them. asking you to take a break would be fruitless and telling you that your grades weren’t as important as your health would obviously not get through to you.
“do you want me to make you some food?”
you looked at his face for the first time in a while. it seemed that his offering was something that interested you. “what kind of food?”
“just some comfort food that my grandmother used to make for me. i could make some for you if you’d like? i’m not as good of a chef as she was, but i can replicate it pretty well.”
“well, i am actually kinda hungry,” you thought to yourself out loud. “i’d like to try your cooking! do you want me to help with anything?”
he shook his head in response. “just sit on the couch and try to relax. we can go back to your project after we eat, but take a break for the time being. i’ll help you with getting inspiration.”
you looked at him with wide eyes as you followed him out of the room and sat on the couch as he instructed.
“hey, why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden, though?” he heard you ask while he was getting some of the spices from the cabinet.
he paused mid-movement, hand frozen in the air. why was he being so nice to you? he knew he wasn’t a heartless person by nature, but he wasn’t very caring either, especially to someone who was just his roommate. he thought about your crying face and felt a literal pang in his heart. he didn’t even feel this way towards his friends (not that he had many).
“i’d rather see your face smiling than crying,” he finally responded simply.
you went quiet for a moment as if to try to take in what he said. “thank you. i don’t have many people i can turn to whenever i’m going through, i dunno, burnout or whatever. you were the first person who listened to me in a while.” he then heard you mumble something else afterwards.
“what was that? i didn’t catch the last part,” he said as he leaned around the corner to look into the living room.
you pursed your lips as if you didn’t want to say anything, but your eyes looked like they wanted to say it. you urged him to come closer and he set down the onion powder to sit next to you. you urged him again and he leaned in so that you could whisper into his ear.
“i said, it feels extra special since it’s you,” you said in a hushed voice before covering your face.
alhaitham froze again and started to feel heat creep up his neck and face. what a strange reaction to just nine words. however, you also seemed to be reacting similarly as you looked like you were about to die of embarrassment.
“you don’t have to reciprocate those feelings or anything,” you clarified. “it’s more than enough that you listened to me today and had to deal with everything.”
“but what if i do reciprocate those feelings?”
“what?”
“i said, what if i do reciprocate those feelings?”
you looked at alhaitham strangely. “well, i guess that would mean, uh, one of us asks each other out on a date or something. i don’t really know.”
“then would you like to have a dinner date with me right now?” he offered. his face was still very warm, but he was smirking regardless of it.
“wait.” you held up your hands in front of you. “wait, wait, wait. are you saying that you like me?”
he didn’t say anything but his expression remained the same.
“oh. well then, i guess i would like to go on a dinner date with you.”
alhaitham broke out into a smile. he never expected a confession would come out of a night like this. “we can go on a date after you go to sleep though. i wouldn’t want you falling asleep while eating dinner.” and he went back into the kitchen to put the finished dish into a bowl.
“hey haitham?”
he turned to look at you again. “yes?”
“thanks again.”
“anything for you.”
#lavie.txt#alhaitham#alhaitham x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham x y/n#al haitham#genshin x y/n#genshin impact x y/n#i hate this one lowkey i never know how to end thesejsdfkjs#also this was supposed to be really angsty actually and be completely different#but i couldn't figure out how to start OR end that one so it changed to burnout#i might post the middle section though because it's funny#not really#but i think it'd be easier than figuring out the rest of the fic
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Are you still willing to right for Riddick? Because like... I could definitely use something slutty about that man 🥵 maybe you're neighbors on a planet he's lying low on and he gets a little obsessed by you? Or really anything with him!
Hell. Yes. Thank you. *please note* this is completely unedited. I didn't even re-read it before posting.
It started as a curiosity; the pretty woman living in the multi-tenant building across from where he’s crashing for a while. He needed something to pass the time and you’d caught his eye. So, he watched. Watched you as you came and left for work, as you made yourself dinner with the curtains open, as you carefully closed those curtains before changing for the night. You probably didn’t even realize when you kept the light on that it created a stunning silhouette of your body through those curtains. A silhouette that he could see perfectly. One that tempted him to creep inside and run his hands over your skin.
But he could only watch. He was in hiding and his face was far too recognizable, too prominent on the streets to risk interacting with you in any way. Not that he’d even know how to interact with you. You looked nice. Respectable. He was neither. You probably dreamed of a sweet boyfriend who would sweep you off your feet and make love to you. But him? He went to bed dreaming about breaking in and waking you up by covering your mouth with his hand the same moment he shoves his cock into you. And as much as he wanted to do that, it still wasn’t worth having the local authorities called and his hiding blown.
The only thing that changes his mind is when he realizes that maybe you’re not as sweet as you project.
He’s watching you from his window, just like always, when a man comes to your door. A man that looks too much like a merc even though he tries not to. Merc’s aren’t uncommon, but he hasn’t seen one in this neighborhood in the weeks he’s been here and his neck prickles in warning. Something’s not right.
You come down and greet the merc and Riddick’s eyes narrow, breath becoming short and angered. What in the fuck were you doing talking to a merc? You step aside, letting the man in and just before you turn to follow him, your eyes flicker to the window. To Riddick.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” he whispers to himself. There’s no way you can see him through the tinted window, but that little look, the one that holds more fire than sweetness, is unmistakable. You know he’s there. And you just invited a merc over.
Fucking bitch.
~~~
Riddick waits until the suns go down. Waits until his host goes to bed along with most everyone else on the street. Ther merc has long left your place and you’ve gone through your nightly routine, settled into bed well over an hour ago. That’s when he creeps across the street and through your window.
Leaving his goggles in his pocket, he can see everything in clear detail. Your living room is casual, tidy. Staged. He hadn’t noticed before just how forcibly normal it all looks. Everything has its place, but it has no personality. There’s no pictures on the walls, no art or personal touches. He curses himself for never noticing before he starts to creep towards your bedroom.
The door is open and he stands in the frame for a moment, thinking about how often he fantasized about being right here for a very different reason. He’d wanted to strip your sheets down slow and soak in your body before making you shake beneath him. Now, he kind of wants to wrap his hands around your neck and watch the light fade from your eyes. And maybe, just maybe that thought still bleeds into fucking you hard and rough before he kills you.
He only think about it for a few moments, but it’s enough for him to lower his guard too much. It’s about a half second after he realizes the lump in your sheets is misshapen and unbreathing that he feels the gun at the back of his neck. It makes his lips quirk up in a small smile.
“Think real hard about that,” he growls out. “That’s going to make a lot of noise and one hell of a mess. Plus... I’m worth more alive.”
“You couldn’t just wait one more night?” you ask him bitterly. “One more night and they would have grabbed you up, paid me a nice finder’s fee, and hitched me a ride out of here.”
“Or that guy would have ended up dead and you would still get nothing.”
“There was a group. Not one guy. I’m not stupid enough to think one merc was going to take you.” He chuckles a little.
“One guy, ten guys. Doesn’t matter. Always ends up the same.” He cautiously turns his head to look at you from the corner of his eye, confident you’re not going to shoot him dead right here. “What’s your next move, pretty girl?” Your eyes harden, clearly not a fan of the nickname. It only makes him like it even more. “You gonna wake the neighbors by shooting me? Or are you gonna wake them when I make you scream?”
Your momentary surprise at the dark layer of innuendo in his voice gives him time to spin around on you, grabbing the gun right out of your hands and throwing it across the room. Before you can react, he’s shoved you back into the hall, up against the wall with his hand coming up around your neck.
It’s hard to explain the satisfaction he feels pressing against you, the woman he’s watched and dreamed about. The woman who apparently watched him right back and then betrayed him standing on her toes, her hands wrapping around his wrist, trying feebly to pull his hand from her throat. He smiles viciously as he squeezes. Unable to stop himself, he leans in and runs his nose along your jaw, taking in way you smell. Something sweet and bitter at the same time. Something warm.
“How-” you choke out, voice ragged and hoarse. He eases up his grip, just slightly.
“What was that, pretty girl?” he whispers in your ear. You suck in a deep breath before trying again.
“How are you supposed to make me scream if I can’t breathe?”
He pauses. Well, this just took an interesting turn. He lets his body come off survival mode to reevaluate. Your chest arching into him. His leg having slipped between your thighs, hardening cock pressing to your hip. Fuuuck.
“You want me to make you scream?” he asks. You don’t answer him, but flatten your feet on the floor, bringing yourself down onto his leg, practically grinding down on him.
The hand around your neck slants upwards to grip your jaw possessively. He turns your head sharply to the side allowing his mouth full access to the side of your neck. Shivers run down your spine when he latches on, biting sharply then sucking and smoothing his tongue over the small expanse of your skin.
You shouldn’t be as turned on as you are with a killer, a man who came here to kill you, holding you down and pressing his knee into your pussy. And yet your brain seems to have left the building, replaced by this primal desire to have him take you against this wall. A most slips through your lips.
“Set up across the street. Acted all innocent. Sicced mercs on me,” he growls your sins against your skin. His grip shifts again from your jaw to your chin, yanking your face back to look at him. “Then you thought about trying to kill me.” His thumb runs over your bottom lip, pulling it down crudely. “And here you stand still, blood and organs in your body. Limbs attached. Heart still beating.” His silver eyes watch your mouth. “I think you owe me a thank you.”
You slowly dip your head down, taking the tip of his thumb between your lips. His eyes darken, pushing his thumb further into your willing mouth, settling on your tongue. When you start to suck on him, bob your head just a little on him, he snarls almost hungrily. His other hand lands heavily on your shoulder and starts pushing you down.
“There’s a good girl,” he praises as you sink to your knees, his thumb gently popping from your mouth. His fingers slide up, fisting in the hair at the back of your head as his other hand goes to the front of his pants. There’s a retort somewhere on the tip of your tongue, but your voice has stopped working.
And once he frees himself from his pants, your mouth is on him, too full to be worried about speaking. You don’t even know for sure if he pulled you to him or if you simply opened your mouth and swallowed him down on your own. He’s thick and heavy as his hips give a few involuntary thrusts, threatening to choke you in a very different way than he had a few minutes ago.
“So fucking pretty,” he moans above you and the praise makes you even more eager. Your pussy is aching, begging for relief, but instead of allowing yourself to slip a hand between your legs, you put both hand on his thighs. Using him as leverage, you start to slide your mouth back and forth on him, sucking hard, flicking your tongue over him. You’re rewarded with him tipping his head back while he bites back another groan while he twists his hand through your hair.
He starts to guide you, roughly with that hand. He pulls and pushes you in time with his thrusts, taking back the control and fucking your face. Your eyes start to water and you gag when he hits the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop. He looks down at you, a pathetic mess taking his dick so well, and feels himself start to swell.
He pulls his cock away from you suddenly and you gasp for air you’d forgotten you need. Any trace of a smile is gone from his face as he stares down at you. People had referred to him as an animal and you finally see it. That’s all he is right now. And as you open your mouth and stick your tongue out in offering to him, you realize that may be all you are too right now.
“Stand up,” he commands. “Hands on the wall.” You obey without a second thought, bending slightly at the waist as your palms hit the plaster. He doesn’t bother to pull your pants down, simply rips his way through the wet material between your legs. You whimper when he runs his fingers over your bare pussy. “Fucking soaked for me,” he taunts. You press back against him shamelessly, trying to angle yourself so his fingers slip inside of you, but he doesn’t allow it. Instead he pulls his hand back.
The feel of his fingers is quickly replaced by the feel of the head of his cock notching itself in their place. He doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t give you warning. He slams his hips forward, forcing his cock inside of you in one thrust.
“Fuck,” you moan out, finally finding your voice. Even as wet as you are, it’s rough and he stretches you wide. There’s a twinge of pain, a bit of pressure, and you fucking love the way it feels. “Riddick,” you breathe into the wall. He answers with a growl and a possessive squeeze on your hips.
He holds you still as he starts to fuck you. Just like he’s done everything tonight, he fucks you with a mix of anger and desire. He fucks you like he craves you. And he fucking hates you for it.
“Don’t stop,” you beg him. His dick curves just right inside of you and each time he slams into you, you feel it push you closer and closer to the edge of an orgasm. “Please don’t stop.”
“I wish I could,” he grits out through grinding teeth. “Make you suffer for the shit you did.” You whimper again, afraid he may actually do it. One of your hands darts for your clit in panic, rushing to finish yourself off before he can pull away. “No, no.” He takes your hand and pins it back up to the wall. “Can’t fucking stop,” he admits, hips losing rhythm for just a moment as he leans into your back to press his lips to your ear. “You’re so fucking tight. Feel so good.” His fingers interlock with your own and you squeeze him tightly, legs starting to shake.
“Riddick.” Your voice is small, quiet and he thrusts even harder. He rips his hand away from yours and his fingers find your clit, making small, firm circles.
“Scream for me,” he demands. “Scream for me while I fill your cunt with cum.”
“Fuck,” you pant, feeling the orgasm right there.
“Come on, pretty girl,” he coaxes, hips sputtering again. “Give me what I want. Wanna feel that pussy come on my cock.”
“Oh fuck, Riddick,” you scream suddenly as the orgasm crashes down on you. It washes over you unrelentingly. Your thighs shake, his hips pinning against yours as he comes the only thing keeping you upright. He spills himself buried deep inside of you, fingers stilling against your clit and bruising your hip.
And then he pulls out slowly, holding just the tip of his dick in you before gently pushing back in. He repeats this a few times until you crumble beneath him, collapsing forward onto the wall and pulling yourself away from him. For the first time all night, he lets you.
You’re both breathing heavy, trying to let your minds catch up with whatever the fuck you just did with each other. Vision blurry and mind swimming, you turn to put your back to the wall, willing your legs to stop vibrating.
“You were trying to hitch a ride outta here?” is the first thing he says to you and his voice is much clearer than yours when you respond.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Grab whatever shit you need. We’ll leave in ten minutes.” He tucks himself back into his pants and steps away, headed towards your living room. Or maybe your kitchen. Fuck if you know anything right now.
“What?” you ask dumbly. He looks back at you and smirks, thoroughly enjoying how fucked out you are right now.
“I’ve got a ride off this planet. You coming or not, pretty girl?”
“You’re leaving?” You swear you’re normally more coherent than this, even after an orgasm. He barely contains rolling his eyes.
“Don’t have much of a choice,” he says before once again smirking at you. “Some bitch blew my cover.”
#chronicles of riddick imagine#chronicles of riddick#riddick imagine#riddick smut#richard b riddick imagine#richard b riddick
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Can I request a fix where Maverick’s friend or girlfriend is attacked and Maverick rescues her? I know it’s dark but I love protective Mav
Rescue
Title: Rescue
Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Girlfriend Reader
Summary: When you are attacked in the parking lot of the bar you are suppose to be meeting your boyfriend Maverick and all your friends at, Maverick comes to your rescue.
Warnings: angst, attempted sexual assault, violence, language, happy ending
Authors Note: I also love protective Mav, so I hope you like this fic! Feel free to send in more protective Mav and other top gun characters requests!
After a hard day at work the one thing you wanted to do was go home, take a nice relaxing bath, and spend time with the love of your life Pete Mitchell. Being a kindergarten teacher is a lot harder than people think, parents can be crazy especially when their child is involved.
Today you had trouble with a little boy in your class Andy, who was inappropriately touching a few of the little girls in your class, you immediately contacted the office because you had repeatedly told him that it wasn’t okay to touch people without permission but it was like everything went in one ear and out the other. One thing you learned in the recent trainings you had to take was that sometimes kids can project the kind of behavior they saw at home at school.
You were concerned because you have also had trouble with the little boys dad Adam, when he would drop Andy off in the mornings it wasn’t uncommon for him to make inappropriate advances and comments towards you. Of course you always shut those advances down, stressing how inappropriate and unprofessional his comments were but it seemed that he didn’t see anything wrong with his behavior.
The front office called the Adam and reported what happened and asked for him to come in for a session with the guidance counselor along with Andy. But it seemed that that just pissed him off and he said he would make you pay for making such rash assumptions.
So when Pete called you and asked if you would meet him and your guys’s friends at the bar when you got off work, you really wanted to say no but you also had to skip out on the last get together because of a program your school had. So you reluctantly agreed to meet him there and after exchanging “I love you’s” you packed up your work bag and left your classroom.
When you walked out into the parking lot you got an weird feeling in your gut, you felt like you were being watched but when you checked your surroundings and didn’t see anyone you just assumed you were being paranoid. So you got into your car and started driving towards the bar, not noticing the car tailing you from the school.
You could already hear the music from inside the bar when you pulled into the crowded parking lot, you ended up having to park quite a little ways away from the building which made you a little nervous but luckily the area was well lit and there was always people coming in and out of the building.
Just as you were about to get out of your car your phone rang and you looked down to see it was Pete calling making you smile.
“Hey.” You answered as you applied some lipstick since any that you would have had on earlier is definitely worn off by now
“Hey baby, you almost here?” Pete asked over the phone and you could hear the music and commotion in the background
“Yep. I’m outside and about to come in now.” You said as you put the lid back on your lipstick
“Okay, me and Goose will meet you outside. There’s a lot of people here tonight and I don’t want you to get lost.” Pete said and you could hear Goose talking in the background
“Okay. I’ll meet you at the front.” You said as you got out of your car with your purse before locking it and making your way towards the lit up entrance
“Okay baby, love you.” Pete said making you smile
“I love you too.” You replied before hanging up and putting your phone into your purse
As you were walking you got that sinking feeling in your chest again, like back at the school. The feeling that someone was watching you. You turned around and looked at your surroundings but once again didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, you sighed and shook your head before turning around but gasped as you ran into a firm chest.
You immediately took a step back but two hands wrapped around your biceps roughly and jerked you forward making you drop your purse on the ground.
“Let go of me!” You exclaimed pushing and shoving at his chest, when you got a look at his face. “Adam?”
“I told you I would make you pay!” Adam seethed making your eyes widen, he looked completely unhinged. “What do you think I’m some kind of freak? Huh? Is that what you meant when you said my son was doing whatever he’s seen at home? How dare you!”
“Adam listen, okay, look. I have had other parents as well as students complain to me about Andy’s behavior towards them and their daughters. I had to report it to the office because it is my job. I am truly sorry if I hurt you or Andy or your family, it wasn’t my intention.” You explained to him as calmly as you could, but his grip wasn’t loosening and it was starting to scare you
“Do you think I’m some kind of sexual predator? That I just go around touching women in front of my son?” Adam asked with dark eyes not even reacting to what you said
“No. No of course not. But we can talk about this another time, you can make an appointment and come talk to me at school about it or we can talk to the guidance counselor. Whatever you need okay, but I can promise you that nothing good will come out of whatever is happening right now.” You stressed trying to stay calm as he started dragging you away from the entrance and further into the parking lot. “Adam let me go! You need to let me go!”
“No. No. If your making me into some kind of villain then I’m going to play the villain!” Adam exclaimed shoving you against a car making you gasp as your head hit the window
“Get off me!” You yelled loosing your cool as you struggled in his grasp as his hands started moving down your body. “Let me go!”
You fought against him and managed to bring your knee up and connecting between his legs making him grunt and slightly loosen his grip on you, he straightened back up and hit you closed fist across the face making you fall to the ground.
“Hey! Y/N!” You heard and almost cried in relief as you recognized Pete’s voice. “Goose grab her.”
Pete put himself in between you and Adam and threw a punch knocking him straight to the floor.
You felt arms wrap around you and help you to your feet, you immediately knew it was Goose based on the glimpse of the blue Hawaiian shirt he was wearing.
“Are you okay?” Goose asked keeping his arms around you as he started leading you a little bit away from Adam
“I think so. He was going crazy. Where’s Pete?” You asked breathing heavily and trying to look around Goose’s tall frame
“He’s just taking care of the trash. Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” Goose sighed looking at your split lip and red cheek that would surly bruise
“But what about Pete? What if he gets hurt?” You stressed worried about your boyfriend, you know he can handle himself but Adam was off his rocker and was capable of anything
“We’ve got him Y/NN.” Ice said as he and Slider jogged up to you and Goose having heard and seen the commotion going on outside the bar on their way out for a smoke break
“Thank you guys.” You said and they both gave you comforting smiles
“Don’t worry about it.” Slider waved you off before he and Ice jogged in Pete’s direction
Goose had taken you into the bar and into the lady’s room after informing one of the workers what had happened outside and they immediately called the police. He helped you onto the counter and grabbed the first aid kit and opening it on the counter beside you.
“So what happened?” Goose asked as he opened a alcohol wipe
“I have his son in my class and had to report him to the front office because he kept groping the girls in class. He got all mad about it and said that I basically was calling him a predator. He came here to make me pay as he liked to say.” You said and winced as Goose carefully dabbed the corner of your lip with the wipe
“Is it that Andy kid?” Goose asked with recognition
“Yeah. Why? Brad hasn’t said anything has he?” You asked in concern, you had Bradley in your class the year before last but he still spent a lot of time in your classroom since you are his favorite aunt and godmother
“He mentioned that the kid was rude to him one day but didn’t say much else about it. Seems like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Goose commented making you chuckle and nod wincing as it made your head ache
The bathroom door opened and Pete walked in with wide eyes but immediately let out a breath of relief when he saw you.
“Oh baby. Are you alright?” Pete asked as he took Goose’s place in front of you and gently cupping your cheek as Goose snuck out of the room to let Carole know what was going on since his wife would surly kill him if he didn’t tell her what happened to her best friend
“I’m okay, are you?” You asked gently running your hand over his red cheek
“I’m fine. You should see the other guy.” Pete gave you his cocky smirk making you chuckle and lean forward into his chest
“I love you. Thank you for protecting me.” You said placing a kiss on his collarbone
“It’s my job baby.” Pete said wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tightly before kissing your forehead. “I love you so much.”
Taglist
@daughterofthereaper02
@luckyladycreator2
@calpurniatypes
@littlebadariell
@qnfluvr
@raefoxiegirl
@maverick-wingman
@avada-kedrava-bitch
@army24--7
#pete mitchell#top gun#pete maverick mitchell#pete maverick mitchell x reader#goose#nick goose bradshaw#nick bradshaw#iceman val kilmer#tom iceman kazansky#slider
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I'm bored and I can't find motivation to draw, have my headcanons for Romania instead, some of these are simping and cringe, enjoy:
(Also adding a image to be easier to find this post cause for some stupid reason tumblr only shows posts with images in my blog's search bar now, tags are useless)
♤♡◇☆
1) Three words for this guy: 🌟Tall, blonde and beautiful.🌟
2) He's a fashion genius or a fashion disaster depending on your view but he still got drip.
His color choices are black and red (like no shite), sometimes blue for the jeans and warm colors in general, white and grey from time to time.
3) I'd consider him quite mixed, with some ethnicities leaving a noticeable influence but latin conquers most of his bloodline nowadays.
The slavic tendencies come out whenever he gets drunk.
4) Folks see him as eccentric... they're right.
5) He's one of the few countries with particular traits that are uncommon to the rest of the nations and society in general.
I could say it's magic if I want to be basic about it, but I don't, so here's some of them:
His eyes can see supernaturals like spirits, fairies, ghosts and demons although they rarely make their existence know nowadays.
Technically since he's a vampire that would make him one as well. (Actually I'll make a post about this)
He can communicate with the animals and understand them but won't act on it to not look crazy. So he doesn't visit the zoo too often.
He's interested in dark magic so you can say he vibes with the dark side too. In addition he's way too casual about the creepy factor of some things.
He can poses fire because I said so.
6) Besides the quirks about paranormal, he's charming, both in looks and personality as well until you get to know him better, then he gets a little silly that could mean anything.
The only canon thing I adopted from him is that he's mischievous, but I could make him worse :3
7) He's good with kids, he'd be one of those cool parents if he had any. (I could make parent headcanons)
8) He likes traditional food the best, anything with meat and potatoes but to be frank no one can resist pizza from time to time. He doesn't eat too salty, makes him thirsty easily.
He like savarine as a sweet and usually buys them, but if he wants home made he would chose lemon cake (snow white).
To be honest he eats a lot but at least he keeps himself in shape.
"What do you mean this bread has sugar in it??" He doesn't like american bread.
9) And he definitely is lean build, someone who survived 2 empires and russia isn't gonna be skinny af just because he doesn't show it.
My vision says his body beats the twink allegations, his face not so much... he's a twunk.
10) Speaking of, I like to think he does gymnastics and extreme sports for the thrill.
11) His imagination is wild so if he'd have a modern job it should be something that expands on it.
Like a writer for books or movies. He can cook well too (and mix all kinds of potions) so maybe a chef at a restaurant, Fashion artist, Modeling... I go for the writer though.
12) He has some scars on his body, most are small and unnoticeable but he's too self conscious about them so he's not wearing a lot of revealing clothes, at least he doesn't sweat much during summer.
Two noticeable scars are on his shoulder blades and one besides the left lilac region to lumbar.
The ones on his back I like to think of them as a metaphor for broken wings. The one below his abdomen happened due to his separation from Moldova.
13) Cat person, cat behavior and cat lover. He has at least 2 cats in his house and a little bat because why not?
One of the cats is a lynx because that's his national animal, but also because it's like having dog size cat, a big pile of fluff to snuggle on rainy day, a purring machine against your head and belly (I'm projecting a lot I know)
14) His relationship with his slavic neighbors, mainly balkans, is very capybara coded. He's just chilling around and none of them has any business with him nowadays. He's considered part of the family despite Romania being latin. He may feel more accepted by them than his family from west sometimes.
15) His relationship with his blood relative is kinda mixed and they don't communicate often, assumingly because of his status but proly because of the land distance as well.
He used to look up to them and hoped to be accepted and recognized as a romance country in the past. One out of two happened, he's content enough with that.
16) He drinks a fuck ton of red wine.
17) His fangs are the only teeth that can still fall and regrow, he's able to move and retract them.
18) The pupils in his eyes are vertical stilts that expand and contract, the thinner they get the more blurry everything besides the focus point becomes. Sometimes he wears glasses for that.
Funny thing about his pupils is that they can expand so much it cover the whole Iris. His eyes can also glow in the dark sometimes.
19) In human age he's 23.
20) He loves parks, a lot.
21) Keeps his house clean except his kitchen, until he has guests over. If uninvited you're not allowed in the kitchen.
22) Sleep schedule worse than you've seen in college. Get him to bed or he gets grumpy af.
23) Coffee addict because of that.
24) He doesn't like cold, but there's melancholic beauty in the landscape whenever it's night time and only the tree lights give an ounce of warmth during winter. It's a bittersweet sensation he can't describe properly, it's the same during rainy days or stormy nights. He likes it despite the ache feeling it gives.
25) Sunny days are enjoyable for many of his activities but he's usually more active during the night, which is unfortunate because he ends up sleeping too much during daytime and feeling awful for "wasting time" in bed.
26) His eye color switches from black to red sometimes.
27) Sexually speaking, he's definitely swinging both ways and sideways.
28) If he'd be a yōkai then it's Kitsune (nine tails fox) fits him the most. Also because I like to think he'd have a double pair of fangs from it.
29) I main ship him with: Bulgaria and Norway. Side ships: Greece and Hungary. Crack ships: Prussia, Japan, Belarus. Platonical: Egypt cause I like their aesthetics together.
30) But talking about how compatible he is with other characters. I'd say based on canon he is with Bulgaria. Based on history he'll be with Serbia (dude barely exists). Based on his zodiac sign he's with Hungary (the irony). Based on his mbti he's with either Norway or Japan.
31) Speaking of zodiac signs, he's a Sagittarius. (Although it's hard to identify precisely the "birthday" of countries, so I just go with their national days and his is on Dec 1) if you're into astrology a lot then he also has his moon in scorpio.
32) He is inclined to be overprotective for his close ones ever since he lost Moldova to Russia. He does it automatically without knowing until someone points it out.
♤♡◇♧☆
This may get updated from time to time
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forgot about this for awhile, but if you remember that post you made about how the chain would react if legend lost his memory? i’m not sure if you really talked about it a lot, but wild was one of the ones who embraced the “new” legend with no memories and was broken up about the fact that people wanted the original legend back because that would mean the same about him. so i was wondering what wild thought about the legend without his memories, like did he miss the original legend at all? or was he just feeling a lot of emotions because he saw himself in the same situation? (hope this made sense btw, have a great day too!!)
This post?
Honestly, I think Wild would have a difficult time with it just like everyone else. He misses the old Legend, and sometimes even the bitterness because Legend got it.
One thing none of the heroes can deny is that no matter the circumstances, Legend would understand your pain, your struggles, so while he wasn't always obvious about it, he was always there for them. Losing that, because now Legend doesn't have the memories to help him understand their hurts, is hard. Sure, this new version of Legend is a total empath, and he cares, and he does listen, attentively so, but it's missing that harshness to his manner that they're all used to.
I think for Wild though, he sees so much of himself in the vet now, maybe he's just projecting his struggles, he does wonder about that, but he does get it. He misses old Legend, but he's also eager to embrace this new version of his brother because that's what he would want if he could meet the people of his past again. Whenever he starts thinking too hard about the changes and about what he misses, it's not uncommon for Legend to pick up on it and ask him what's wrong. Unlike the others though, he has no issue telling Legend about who he was before, and without fail, talking about it helps him because Legend may have changed in some ways, but he still likes making fun of idiots, of which he counts himself as one, and they can laugh about him sometimes, or just talk about things, which leads to helping the vet figure out more about who he once was, which is good for both.
I think Wild finds some healing of his own in helping someone else through his struggles, and also having someone who now knows exactly what he goes through all of the time. Sure, he does miss the old vet sometimes, but unlike the others, it's easier for him to understand that Legend is still the same person, just changed, and he's nothing if not good at adapting to change. He doesn't bottle up his feelings about Legend like the others, and they work to process the change together, so they both kind of grow around that hurt and loss while the others struggle with it.
So, I'd say he does miss the old Legend, and he does project a lot, but I think he handles the situation really well all things considered. He does have moments where he just super misses Old Legend, but then Legend will purposefully start acting like an ass to try and simulate how he once was and the champion just ends up laugh crying at it. I think he mourns the loss of who his brother was, and comes to understand Zelda and Impa and the others better, but generally speaking he heals and moves on.
Hence why, if Legend did get all his memories back and return to his old self, Wild takes it so badly. All that growth and change and healing feels like it's being thrown back in his face and maybe wasn't worth anything after all, maybe was a lie? Was pointless? He can't hate Legend for it (is a bit jealous actually) but man does it suck! And he just lost Legend again? The Legend he actually got to know and bonded so much with? Like, sure, Legend wouldn't forget everything that happened while his memories were gone, but he's still different from the kid they got to know, and while he probably does try and help Wild with it, the rest of the heroes aren't really helping the champion's situation with how eagerly they accept this. Because it would take so much longer for them to heal and Legend coming back would mean they don't have to continue that journey, especially since they were still struggling with the first steps.
For the heroes, it's like setting out on a long walk because your car broke down, only for a friend to drive up and offer a ride.
Meanwhile, for Wild, it's like being dropped out of a plane right back at the start of the path, right after he made it to the end.
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my first entry for @mcyt-yuri-week!
prompt: break
ship: pearl/gem (hermitcraft)
Tap, thud, click. Tap, thud, click. Tap, thud, click.
The soft noise of blocks falling into place echoes in Gem’s elven ears. She loves almost everything about building, but the satisfying sound of the blocks in her hands has to be her favorite part. It forms a beat that calms the racing thoughts in her head into a steady rhythm. She quietly hums along to it as she builds.
Tap, thud, click. Tap, thud, click.
Gem hasn’t stopped to check her progress in ages. She’s so absorbed in her work that she barely even notices she’s doing it anymore. Of course, this isn’t an uncommon occurrence for her. When she slips into a hyperfocus state, she can go through a whole shulker’s worth of materials without realizing she’s running low on them. The feeling of bouncing between blocks and crafting things with her hands makes her feel productive and connected in a way that she never feels while doing anything else. It doesn’t matter that she’s a little tired or that she hasn’t eaten in a while – it feels like she could keep at her task forever.
Tap. Thud. Click. Tap–
“Gem, love, what are you doing?” Pearl’s voice echoes from below the tower.
“Building,” Gem says, brushing the dirt off her hands.
“All this?” Pearl asks in amazement. “That’s twice as much as you had yesterday.”
“I’ve been focused!” Gem checks her inventory. “Oh, wow, I went through two shulker boxes.”
“Two? Gem, how long have you been working?”
“I don’t know. I kind of lost track.” Gem sits down on the wall and dangles her feet over the edge. “I started a little after lunch, so not too long ago.”
“Not too long?” Pearl shakes her head in amazement, then flutters her moth wings to fly up and sit down next to her. “Gem, look up.”
Gem does. To her surprise, the mid-day sunlight has been replaced with the moon and stars. “Oh. Wow. It’s night.”
“You honestly didn’t notice?” Pearl laughs. “Gem, it’s been hours. No one’s seen you all day!”
Gem sighs, then joins Pearl’s laughter. “Okay. I just need to finish this one thing, and then I’ll come down–”
She’s interrupted by her stomach growling loudly. Right – she skipped dinner. She blinks and yawns. “Yeah, no, you’re right.”
“I thought so.” Pearl wraps her arms around Gem and flutters down from the wall, managing to land them both (somewhat) gracefully on the grass. Gem blushes. Pearl is too proud of herself to notice. “Oh, hey, I’m getting better at that!”
Gem stays in Pearl’s embrace for just a little too long, both of them refusing to let go of the other. Pearl finally lets go and starts down the path back to her alien base, dragging Gem behind her. “Alright, let’s get you some food.”
“Food sounds good,” Gem concedes as she’s led away from her project and into Pearl’s kitchen.
As Gem sits down, Pearl begins to gather ingredients from her (impeccably organized) kitchen cabinets. “Do you want mushroom soup? I went mushroom picking the other day, and I think I found some really good ones. I know it’s silly to get excited over mushrooms, but-”
“Are you kidding? A great mushroom is a treasure.”
“I knew you’d get it.” Pearl smiles as she finds the mushrooms at the back of a cabinet. It feels strange to say, but Pearl feels like she and Gem have the same kind of brain. They have the same sort of humor and energy. It’s like they just fit together, like puzzle pieces, or like how Gem fits perfectly beneath Pearl’s wing when they sit next to each other and watch the stars. Like how Pearl’s hand feels just right in Gem’s hand when they’re leading each other to the next adventure or picnic they’ve set up. Like how even their names fit with one another: Pearl and Gem. They’re a treasure chest together.
Pearl returns to the table a moment later with two bowls of warm soup and two tiny loaves of bread. “There you go.”
Gem doesn’t realize how hungry she is until she takes a first bite of the bread and proceeds to inhale it. Pearl bursts out laughing as Gem blushes to the tips of her deerlike ears. “Gem, oh my goodness, you were hungry. Have some soup, too.”
Pearl takes a sip of her own soup, and Gem follows suit. Gem’s eyes widen. “This is so good.”
“We’re not called the Soup Group for nothing!” Pearl grins.
They sit and talk for a few more minutes as they finish their (very late) dinner, both trying to hide the pink blush in their cheeks. Eventually, Pearl decides it’s far too late to send Gem home – she’ll either get killed by a horde of mobs or just fall asleep on the grass halfway there. “No, I’m serious. Did I tell you why I found you in the first place? I got shot out of the sky by a skeleton.”
“You’re kidding!” Gem yawns. “Oh, that’s the worst. I hate when skeletons sneak up on you.”
“Yeah. I was fine, though. Just a little annoying.” Pearl sits down on her bed. Gem lays a sleeping bag out on Pearl’s floor, then sits down next to her.
As Pearl continues her story, Gem flops over and lies down on Pearl’s bed. “I’m just glad skeletons can’t use tipped arrows,” Pearl jokes. “I think I’d probably die once every two minutes-”
A soft snore from Gem interrupts her – she’s already fast asleep.
Pearl laughs quietly. “Told you so, Gem.”
She gently tucks Gem into bed, then lies down next to her. Gem rolls over and presses herself up against Pearl, not once waking up. This time, it’s Pearl’s turn to blush.
Pearl whispers a soft “good night” to Gem, then wraps an arm around her and drapes her wings over them both like a delicate blanket as she drifts off to sleep.
They’re still cuddling when they wake up the next morning.
#mcytyuriweek2023#hermitshipping#pixel writes#this'll also be up on my ao3 @pixel_the_alien in a little bit if you want to read it there!
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