#I proudly present whatever the hell this is

[kiatoru-archived]

"toru", you whisper in a slight panic, reaching out in an attempt to find your snowy haired boyfriend in the dark. you glance at the alarm clock which reads 6:32 in blaring red lights.

"toru," you say again, this time more urgently. your hands working to untangle the sheets around the both of you and shake him awake. your palms press against his cool skin as you give him a gentle push before violently shaking him.

"what the f- baby? whats goin' on?" he groans tiredly as he's jolted from his sleep. you take about half a second to swoon over his groggy, sleepy voice before another crash sounds from downstairs and you jump slightly, clinging to satoru.

"did you hear that?!"

he furrows his brows slightly and nods, smoothly unwrapping you from him and standing up.

"i'll go see what it is."

you nod and stand up as well.

"i'll come too."

"what? no- there could be a serial killer or something."

"whats a serial killer gonna do against you?"

"thats not the point-"

CRASH!

the both of you jump and grab the other one. carefully, satoru leads you both out and into the hallway. all is silent before a quiet gasp is heard followed by a hush and muted giggling.

you and satoru exchange a glance before creeping down the stairs and peering into the kitchen.

"megumi, you gotta be quiet," tsumiki whispers, "we'll wake gojo and y/n up!"

"you're the one who keeps dropping stuff!" megumi insists, a small pout on the little boy's face. he stands on his tip toes, peering over the top of the stove into the pan of... something.

you cock your head and try not to gag as the smell of whatever's in the pan hits you.

"do you think they'll like their breakfast in bed?" tsumiki asks with an excited smile on her face. her brother just shrugs and adds way too much salt to their concoction.

your boyfriend turns to you with a panicked expression and mouths 'breakfast?!' you elbow him softly and motion your head towards the stairs. you both creep back up to your bedroom with a soft sigh.

"i am not eating whatever the hell was on that stove."

you fix him with an icy glare.

"satoru gojo you will eat what those children have made for us and you will like it."

true to your word, an hour later when tsumiki proudly presented a tray of... breakfast , if you could call it that, with a sullen megumi in tow you both acted pleasantly surprised and choked down the food gratefully.

[candied-heartss]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐄𝐑

(𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑑!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑥 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑛)

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗱, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳, 𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲... 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹.

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 (18+), 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬, 𝑭!𝑺𝑼𝑩, 𝑴!𝑫𝑶𝑴, 𝑷𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑿, 𝑶𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑿 (𝑴𝑨𝑳𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮), 𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑼𝑵𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑬𝑿 (𝑺𝑨𝑭𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑿 𝑰𝑺 𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑬𝑿, 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻𝒀 𝑷𝑷𝑳!), 𝑺𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑰𝑹 𝑷𝑼𝑳��𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑪𝑳𝑰𝑻 𝑹𝑼𝑩𝑩𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑷𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬, 𝑫𝑬𝑮𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵, 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑰𝑻𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑼𝑺𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 "𝑺𝑰𝑹", 𝑫𝑼𝑩𝑪𝑶𝑵???

ᴡᴏʀᴅs: 2,253

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The two of you snapped out of it at the deep, accusatory voice of Felix coming from the doorway. At the sound of his voice, Oliver took hold of your hair and pulled your lips away from his cock, making you look up at the man at the doorway, your spit coating your lips.

"Sir, I... I am so, so sorry... Sir Oliver said that he needed my assistance." you told him quietly, looking down with a shameful expression painting over your features. Oliver just sat there, not moving an inch, and the slightest bit of pride showed on his face.

Felix looked at the two of you, clearly not amused at this sight, "Oh, and this "assistance" just happens to involve your mouth on his cock? You're a maid, not some classless whore."

The more that he spoke, the more ashamed you felt, and the more ashamed you felt, admittedly, the more aroused you were.

"Felix, why do you seem so angry? Aren't you glad I found a way to put your sweet, little maid to good use? She's just such a good helper, aren't you, darling?" Oliver finally interjected, still holding onto your hair and stroking your cheek.

You nodded, still too embarrassed and ashamed to say a word. You could practically feel Felix's eyes burning into you as his gaze flicked back and forth between you and Oliver. Oliver still looked at him proudly, clearly not caring about how he was presenting himself in front of the other young man.

"And you," Felix then looked over at him, shaking his head, "I always knew you were some sort of perverted creep, but to have one of the maids come and suck you off while I'm just down the hall is sickening..."

Once again, you felt wretched for even doing this in the first place. All you were trying to do was do your job well, but never in your wildest dreams would you have thought that you would be here, on your knees while a man used your mouth as his own personal fleshlight.

"Please," you pleaded with Felix, "Please, Sir Felix, please don't terminate my employment here... I'll do anything, I swear on the Lord's name."

At this, the other young man's eyebrow seemed to quirk upwards in a mixture of both curiosity and amusement. Oh, god. This is the part where he fires you on the spot. Just as you began to brace yourself for whatever you were going to hear from his mouth next, you became shocked at what you finally did hear from him.

"Then get the hell over here and suck my cock, too. I mean, since you want to be a greedy slut, you might as well take all that you can get, yeah?" he told you, beckoning you over with a singular finger.

The mere thought of it sent a shiver down your spine, and you immediately got onto your hands and knees before crawling over to Felix. He watched you intently, studying every inch of your body, every curve, every hair, every freckle, every mole... The way he looked at you intimidated you a little bit but at the same time, it left you feeling aroused and secretly quite desperate.

"Well, go on now, love. Take these trousers off... I won't bite, yet." Felix told you, tilting your gaze up so that he could properly make eye contact with you.

With a hand now lacing through your hair, he wasted no time in practically shoving his cock so far down your throat that you nearly choked. As you gagged while your throat stretched to accommodate the size, you could hear the sound of him groaning from the pleasure that he was receiving from you.

While you sucked on Felix's cock leisurely, you heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind you before feeling a pair of hands on you. It was Oliver, who had finally decided to join in and make his presence known to the both of you.

"Look at him," you heard his voice in your ear, soft enough for you to hear, but firm enough for you to understand the meaning of it, "Look up at him while you suck him nice and well, sweet girl. You can be good, can't you?"

You nodded before inhaling deeply and taking him in down your throat as far as you could before you coughed and sputtered again, your eyes now flickering up to meet his, which in turn made his grip tighter on your hair and let out another grunt of ecstasy. As your mouth kept at work, you moved your hands up to join your mouth, moving up and down on his cock rhythmically, the slick sound of his precum and your saliva that coated the length of his cock now making itself prevalent in the room.

"Fuck... Who knew a maid's mouth could feel wetter than any cunt I've ever had?" Felix pondered aloud as he watched you continue with your duties. With another groan, he pulled you off of the floor, only to lead you to the bed, pushing you down so that your upper body lay against the freshly made mattress, bent over the length of the bed.

"Sir F-Felix, I-I-" you tried to speak, only for him to reach over from behind you and push his fingers past your lips and into your mouth, gagging you and letting the saliva run down from your mouth to his hand, eventually his wrist, while your mouth made a choked sound from the considerable fill his appendages made down your throat.

"I'm going to fuck you, now, and if you do not shut the fuck up, I'll make sure to keep my fingers down your throat until you pass out from the oxygen loss." Felix threatened you, and while, yes, it was definitely meant to be in a menacing manner, it just further aided your arousal.

You then squeaked when you felt his hand traveling up the back of your thigh before reaching for your skirt, flipping it up, and revealing your underwear, much to your chagrin. You heard the two young men chuckle as they caught a glimpse of the fabric of your panties.

"Look at that, her panties have little flowers on them. How cute." Felix tells Oliver before pulling his now wet fingers out of your mouth and pulling the underwear down with one swift motion. You then shivered at the feeling of cool air now washing over your body and settling over the wetness of your cunt.

Without another word to you or Oliver, you felt the thick, heavy tip of his cock slide over your asscheek before finally brushing over your cunt, sliding through the slickness of your folds, making you shiver and him groan once again.

"Fuck... I can already tell you'll be so warm wrapped around me... Let's see if you are as tight as you are warm." He then finally pushes his way inside of you, making you gasp from the sheer size of his cock, moaning as you felt every inch, every minuscule detail of his cock as he slowly slid into you, making the two of you fit together like the pieces to a puzzle.

"S-Sir Felix, I-I- oh... You... You're so deep..." You whined softly, pressing your cheek into the mattress below you.

After a while, you had finally managed to adjust to the size of his cock and this opened up the doorway for Felix to begin thrusting, his hips meeting your ass with each movement. As he fucked you, you could still feel Oliver's eyes studying the both of you, and the mere thought of him being present in the room with you, watching as Felix fucked you with ease, made you wetter than any fantasy you had ever had.

"God, Ollie... I wish you could feel her. She's like... a fuckdoll, but real. Her cunt is so, so fucking tight." he laughed, now thrusting in harder, his hips now colliding with the plump, supple flesh of your ass while he reached up, wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling you closer, the sensation restricting your breathing ever-so-slightly. The now-sudden change of pace and rhythm made you practically shriek from the pure, raw pleasure you were subjected to.

And then, he stopped.

Just as you were about to whine at the loss of movement on his end, you felt his large hands grip you by the hips before pulling you off of the bed and positioning you onto your knees, kneeling on the floor in front of Oliver again.

"Now, you're going to be a good maid and clean. Clean him up, alright? Suck him dry." Felix tells you, but the tone of voice he uses with you makes you realize that it is more of an order than a request. You looked up at Oliver nervously before wrapping your hands around the base of his cock.

"Yes, sir..." Was all you could manage to reply before you leaned in and began to press kisses against the flaccid head of his cock before placing your hand out in front of it, spitting into your palm, and beginning to massage the length of his cock with both your hands, the sounds of his low groans and the wetness echoing throughout the room.

"Did you listen to anything that I just said? I didn't say give him a handjob. Suck. Him. Dry." he snapped, pushing your face towards Oliver's cock. With a heavy breath, you opened your mouth before taking his cock into your mouth and back down your throat, this time controlling your breathing so you wouldn't choke as much as the last time.

Oliver groaned when he felt you move your tongue against the length of his cock, the tip of your tongue tracing every ridge and vein that you could find. You then felt his hand on your hair, burying into your scalp and pushing you down further onto his cock and making you gag once more. You looked up at him to find that he was already looking down at you, and you could've sworn that he had the slightest hint of a grin on his face.

"Fuck, Felix... Christ, I might need to keep this maid of yours all to myself. She's just too sweet and too fucking pretty to let go..." He laughed, his attention now focused back on you as you choked again.

Soon enough, you could tell that he was getting closer to his orgasm, judging by how he began to grasp onto the back of your hair and how his grunts became an octave louder. And, yes, you were correct, as not even a moment later, you felt him tug at your hair once again before you heard him groan and the warm, sticky sensation of his cum going down your throat.

Once you swallowed it, Oliver then pulled away from you, allowing Felix to have a turn with you. You watched the taller boy with intrigue and arousal as you watched him wrap his hand around the thick base of his cock, jerking himself off and gasping softly as he looked back into your eyes.

"Oh, fucking hell... Keep looking at me like that, sweet girl. Yeah, just like that." He groaned finally before he threw his head back, his moans now echoing through the room as he finally reached his climax, his eyes rolling back as his cum now painted your face.

Once the two of them had become spent, you were about to get up and leave before you saw Oliver go over and sit on the bed, beckoning you over with a singular finger. You then slowly came over to him, only for him to pull you close and have you sit on his lap, spreading your legs wide and far enough for him to reach down and begin massaging your sensitive clit, causing you to let out a whine.

"Oh! Oh, my god!" you practically sobbed as he picked up the pace before you heard him chuckle from behind you.

"I'm Oliver, not God, darling. But, I appreciate the sentiment." he teased you, putting more pressure behind your fingers and rubbing harder. You gasped, your thighs beginning to quaver as you reached closer and closer to your climax.

You then sighed softly as he leaned into you, whispering in your ear, "Can you do me a favor, love? Look up at Felix for me, please. Let him see that beautiful face of yours when I make you come."

You nodded, your eyes now shifting upwards to meet Felix's gaze, whimpering quietly as you felt his penetrating stare, gasping as you got closer and closer.

"It's okay, my darling. Be a really good girl and come for the both of us."

With those words and a bit more pressure being applied to your aching clit, you practically burst into tears from the pleasure as you came, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks, your back arching up and off his chest.

"Good... Good girl. Such a good little helper, aren't you?" He whispered, kissing your forehead, making you nod in your dazed state. Felix then leaned down and kissed you, too.

"We're so proud of you, love. You did great. What a sweet little maid you are." He tells you, stroking his fingers along your forehead almost lovingly.

[achromatophoric]

Bianca: You’ve gotta be pulling my fin.

Yoko: Nah B. She for reals said she’s got a Facebook.

Bianca: Miss “I’d sooner rub medical waste in my eyes than suffer social media” has a Facebook.

Yoko: Yup. In fact, she went off to get it. Was all excited about it, too.

Bianca: Went off to— oh right, she doesn’t carry her phone around. Hell, I’m surprised the little psycho even knows how to use it.

Yoko: Yeah. Ya think she uses the app or browser?

Bianca: My scales are on browser.

Yoko: Bet.

Bianca: And speak of the Devil.

Wednesday stalks up to the table and sets her bag atop it. Her gaze cuts to Bianca, who she gives a curt nod.

Wednesday: Barclay. I assume Tanaka has already briefed you. I must emphasize that I am quite protective of this particular possession.

Wednesday: *menacingly* If word of what I am about to show you spreads beyond this table, I will know, and there will be a reckoning. Is that clear?

Bianca: *rolls eyes* Christ, Addams. It’s just a Facebook. Would it help if I showed you mine?

Wednesday: *blinks once* You have one?

Yoko: Of course she does. We’re Facebook friends.

Wednesday: *contemplative* Face. Book. Friends.

Bianca: So we doing this or what?

Yoko: How about we turn around and get our Facebooks ready, then on the count of three we show ‘em?

Wednesday: I find that to be amendable.

Bianca: Fine, whatever, let’s just get on with it.

The three turn around, with Bianca and Yoko fiddling on their phones while Wednesday goes for her bag.

Yoko: Okay, on three. One. Two. Three!

Two phones are presented, along with what appears to be—

Bianca: An actual book? Are you kidding me?

Wednesday: *disgust* Digitized faces. I should have known. How utterly banal.

Yoko: Addams, these are our Facebook pages. *shakes phone* You know, like Mark Zuckerberg? Meta? Ring any bells?

Wednesday: *shakes head*

Bianca: *rolls eyes* I should’ve known. Leave it to Addams to prank us with a musty old book.

Wednesday: *offended* Prank? Musty old book? How dare you. You are lucky that I don’t gouge out your tongue for insulting my Face Book.

Yoko: That’s your Facebook?

Wednesday: Yes. This —*cracks it open*— is my Face Book.

Bianca: 🫢

Yoko: 😧

Wednesday: *proudly* Impressive, is it not?

Bianca: Fucking Christ, Addams. Are those real?

Wednesday: Obviously.

Yoko: H-How many fa— pages. How many pages are there?

Wednesday: Only one-hundred and seventeen, but I’ve always been a proponent of quality over quantity.

Bianca: 😨

Yoko: 😨

Wednesday: *lovingly turning pages*

Bianca: W-Wait a second— stop! STOP! Turn back a page! That one! Isn’t that—

Yoko: Ms. Rowling. The teacher who was under investigation.

Wednesday: *nostalgic* Ah yes, that one. Enid was gracious enough to allow me to keep it, even though she was honestly more deserving.

Bianca: *horrified* Enid has one of— one of those?

Wednesday: Of course. She officially began her own Face Book shortly after our courtship commenced.

Yoko: *pales* Are you saying…

Wednesday: Yes. I am stating that Enid and I are, in fact, Face Book official.

[adaelines]

Could you write smth about Ghost x reader where he goes into a rut and manhandles reader after he sees other people flirting with them 🧎

Hope everything is going okay for you!! Love your work

thank u so much!! i am. so weak for alpha si i wanna fuck him so bad!!! afab reader but genderneutral, jealous simon whos been away from you for too long, he calls you a whore but affectionately, needy and desperate jus how i like it

Working with so many men is never easy. Working with this many alphas, every one of them confident, bold, every masculine quality amplified tenfold by their secondary gender, is even harder as an omega. The army was full of alphas trying to prove themselves, prove how strong and powerful they truly were, that they could provide for and care for any omega they wanted to.

It led to many unwanted situations. Fights over nothing, simple actions being misconstrued as meaning more, rut and heat season was hell on earth. 

Being mated to Simon 'Ghost' Riley made it easier, bearable, you never had to worry about unwanted advances or a person's hand placed somewhere that made you a bit too uncomfortable, not when Simon would quickly be there, teeth bared under his mask at whatever fool was brave enough to mess with you. 

He knew he could trust you, knew that other alphas testing the waters around you was never your fault, not when you so proudly presented yourself as entirely his, the bite on your neck something you were happy to show, always scented by him. Even when he'd been away on missions, separated from you, he never left without making sure your nest was full of him, his clothes, anything that would make the void in your chest a little smaller. The same way he kept something of yours on him at all times. You both knew it could never replace each other, but it helped in his absence. Time away was never easy, not when you both had a biological need to be close, to stick together through anything.

Simon had just returned from one of his prolonged absences, nerves short and hands twitching with the need to hold you, mark you as his after this much time apart, so when he witnessed a younger alpha attempting to charm you, someone he hadn't seen around you before, he was far from happy. 

He'd normally ward anyone off with a harsh glare, a hand on your shoulder and his large presence enough to warn anyone that you were his, that they'd be stupid to even think of trying anything, teeth bared under his mask. 

But it was different this time, he hadn't had you to himself in so long, stuck humping his fist like a dog in heat instead of burying himself inside your warmth like he wanted. He had missed you. Missed being in your company, kissing along your skin and making you beg. 

Seeing someone so close to you, no regard for who you belonged to or the fact that you were already mated, had Simon seeing red. His grip on your wrist was harsh, and when you turned around to push away whoever grabbed you, shout at them until they let you go, you immediately went weak, slack and pliant in his hold. The younger man immediately yelped at the intensity of Simon's glare, scampering away like a dog with his tail between his legs. He'd been caught toying with something that wasn't his, and Simon was more than happy to make him pay

Later. Simon couldn't bare to be apart from you, right now, wanted nothing more than to shove you against the nearest wall and make you scream for him, he wanted to abuse your cervix, wanted to leave proof of his existence all over you, wherever he could, needed to fuck you as hard and as fast and as rough as he could.

With you pliant against him, simply happy to be back in his arms, it wasn't hard for Simon to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and carry you back to your nest. He had to have you, as soon as he could, he wanted to be inside you and remind you who you belong to, who you were mated to. 

It wasn't hard for Simon to get you back to your nest quickly, to pin you on your shared bed below him, push his balaclava up enough to capture your lips in a scorching kiss, pressing his body down against yours, effectively pinning you below him.

It was so overwhelming. You could feel him everywhere, smell him everywhere, and when he pulled back to instead nose at your pulse point, the whine that left you was downright debauched, filthy. Filthy like you, you could imagine Simon saying, if he wasn't too busy biting into your neck, grinding his hips down to keep you in place.

Your nails digging into the back of his uniform only spurred him on further, only motivated him for more. When one of your hands moved up, gently playing with the ends of his balaclava, asking for his permission to remove the rest, he let out a low noise that you took as permission. Seeing his entire face was always a pleasure, always left your mind hazy and warm. Having such a privilege to yourself felt good, knowing just how much he trusted you to allow you to see him, all of him.

Simon pulled back, his large hands on your hips practically pulling you back to slot against where he knelt, panting on top of you. Finally having you beneath him, where you belonged, lit a fire inside of him. Perhaps it was his rut starting, or perhaps it was just how badly he needed you, but his insides felt like they were on fire, cock so hard it hurt. 

"Pretty fuckin thing below me," Simon growled, moving his hands from your hips to below your knees, manhandling them to press into your chest, practically folding you in two. "Missed you so much. Wanted you so bad, spent so many nights fuckin' my fist thinking of this…" 

Whining his name loudly, you arched into him, attempting to rub yourself against him, against anything. With the position you were in, you could feel his belt against your clit, even that was almost too much, almost painful with how much you needed more of him. 

"Desperate, huh?" Simon grinned, rolling his hips against you, leaning down so it was his chest holding your legs down against your own, "Sweet thing, don't worry… I'll fuck you so hard you'll have to stay in our nest for a while. Such a pretty thing, so desperate, needy fuckin' whore, huh?"

You could tell he meant it, tell that he would happily keep you here for as long as he could, as long as you would allow him. The idea of you entirely depending on him was almost enough to make him whine in need, he was always so desperate for you, always wanted to be by your side.

"Get ready, pup," He practically growled, the grin on his face almost a snarl. "Gonna fuck you so full…"

[periprose]

Heyyy I’m literally playing through ps4 Spider-Man again 🤣!

I was wondering if I could request a ps4 fic, maybe Peter and reader have been dating for a while, and she gets hurt during the explosion and he can’t find her but she’s with may at feast with like a broken arm or something?? (She knows he’s Spider-Man) 👀🫶🏼

hey lol thanks for requesting! I'm on the first playthrough of the game myself. Basically this is set during the explosion at the election event in the game, and Peter and you are there to proudly watch Officer Davis accept his award.

/

"Hey." Peter comes up from behind you on the sidewalk, fixing wrinkles in his civilian clothes. He must've just changed.

"Hey, Parker." You nudge him. "Ready to go watch Osborn smooch up to the well-meaning audience of Manhattan?"

"Well, ready as I'll ever be." Peter takes your hand. "I'm really just there to watch Davis get his well-deserving award, y'know. Hey, didn't I tell you to stop calling me Parker?"

"Meh, you love it." You joke. "You'll always be Parker to me, even if you are my boyfriend now. It's our thing."

Peter shakes his head, but you know based on his little smile- he loves that you have a little thing just for him.

Together, you walk to the intersection in front of City Hall, where many people crowd around, waiting for Mayor Osborn and whatever speech he's about to give today. They're all dressed in Osborn themed merchandise, cheering and clapping.

You can't believe this many people care about Osborn's so-called promises to the city- you and Peter are really hoping he won't be re-elected this term after all- but people are clapping for him, and you sigh knowing that your cost of living is about to go up.

"Hey. Wipe that frown off your face. We're here to be supportive." Peter whispers from next to you in the crowd, and you nod.

"Where's Davis? Is that him?" You whisper back, pointing to an older black man up on the stage.

"Yup. You wouldn't believe it, he was so helpful in Hell's Kitchen. Dude whipped out his gun and had my back like we've been best buds for years." Peter smiles. "There's not many out there doing it like him."

"He sounds like a real treasure. I'm glad you have someone on your side." You squeeze Peter's hand, and continue to look up towards the stage in mild excitement.

You don't really care for Osborn's speech- Peter laughs about his promise to open up technology for NYC when you both know that's reserved for the elite- but you both grin when Davis, looking nervous as ever, walks up the stage to receive his award.

"It is my privilege to present Officer Jefferson Davis with the Department Medal of Honour." Osborn hangs a medal around Davis' neck, and you and Peter clap.

"I'm so glad this is all over. The gang war, I think." Peter whispers to you, and you raise your eyebrows.

"Really? Does this mean you'll finally be a little safer?" You ask, but Peter frowns a little.

"Well, there's some loose ends still to be tied up, but-"

"Loose ends?" You give him a wary glance. "Like what?"

"Like whatever 'Consolidated Shipping' is. It doesn't make sense." Peter sighs, watching concern grow on your face. "It's not right, but I'll figure it out."

Davis says a few words- he thanks his wife and his son, Miles, who you can see is sitting up at the front of the stage.

"Aw, cute kid." You remark to Peter, and he nods, gaining a slightly sheepish smile.

"Officer Davis did say I remind him of his son. I'll take it as a compliment." Peter jokes, and you snicker, calling him even more of a baby.

Behind you, Sable guards are talking on their walkie talkies about "keeping eyes on Osborn," which to you sounds as if they perceive a threat. You turn back to tell Peter, when he suddenly flinches.

"Peter-?"

He grabs his head, panicking- you watch as his pupils dilate, and he's clearly in some kind of shock.

"Everything feels off-" Peter flinches again, and you know he's having a Spider-Sense meltdown. There must be multiple things happening at once- even worse, you're not sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. He's not suited up, and he risks revealing his identity if he does anything.

Either way, Peter runs behind you. He shoves people out of the way, trying to get to the back of the event, behind the audience, but he's not fast enough. There are men arriving out of cars- corrupted men, turning that strange grey-blue-transparent hue that confirms their connection with Martin Li.

Peter runs- he dashes- but you see him flinch again, cowering under such threatening energy. He turns to the stage in horror, and you gasp in shock.

There's another corrupted on stage, covered in explosive devices.

An explosion goes off behind you, to the right of you, than another massive one on stage- the ground shakes beneath you, and you're too in shock to move.

"Get down!" Peter shoves you back, attempting to push you out of the way, just as another two explosions cause the earth under you to rattle, and you lose your footing and fall back on the pavement. You twist your arm unnaturally and hit your head.

You black out, the last thing you see being massive blue-black explosions in the sky.

/

Peter wakes to floating ash in the sky.

He coughs- there's a sharp pain in his right side, and a slight ache at the top of his hairline- he touches his forehead and pulls his fingers away to see brown-red, dry blood.

It doesn't matter. He'll heal faster than most, anyways- he needs to locate you.

He gets up, seizes a little due to the pain- and to his alarm, you're nowhere in his near sight. He walks around seeing Sable guards help people off the streets- although Peter really thinks they're poking and prodding and shoving them away, so they can clean up the mess around here.

He hopes you haven't been taken away by Sable guards.

Peter rushes to the nearest clinic- but there's too many people crowding around there with their injuries, and the receptionist at the emergency room tells him there's no one by your name here.

He begins to panic. You're not responding to his calls, either. Peter doesn't want to believe the worst could've happened to you, but he does hear people talking on the streets about the casualties. Apparently at least 10 people have been found dead so far- Peter starts swearing under his breath.

He decides to head to FEAST- he's not sure if you'll be there, but it's better to ask Aunt May or some of the volunteers if you've been seen. FEAST also operates as an emergency medical clinic, too, even with limited supplies, and it's with this small amount of hope that Peter travels there.

Pushing through the doors, the front desk woman- Amanda- she's startled by how intensely Peter asks about you.

"I don't know, Peter." She points to the main auditorium, where many homeless and injured people are currently being attended to. "It's kind of an open house back here- you're going to have to look through the crowds."

Peter sighs. "Thanks, Amanda."

It takes him about fifteen minutes to do a full, quick walkthrough. The entire time, his heartbeat thumps faster as he realizes- he's not seeing you anywhere. There's nobody wearing your trademark scarf, your usual dark blue jeans- nobody with your fastidious expression, where you always seem to take in the entire world before speaking- nobody to relieve the steady ache in his heart.

Peter walks into the room full of medical supplies, expecting to see Aunt May- and while May is there, busy with another volunteer, the first thing he sees is you, with your hair all disheveled and messy, bruises on your cheek and a cut under your lip, and your arm wrapped in a cast and a sling.

But you have a soft, comforting smile. You're kneeling down to help a little girl- she can't be older than five- and you're placing a bandage on her knee. And the little girl squeals, hugging you after you say "It's all better now."

Peter would agree with that.

You look up, arms still embraced around the little girl- Rina is her name- to see Peter, looking wistful, sad, a clear lump in his throat. His eyes are watery.

"Peter?" You watch as he comes forward.

"I thought you were- I thought..." He wipes his eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Well, Little Rina over here needed a little bit of medical attention." You kindly tap her shoulder and she nods up at Peter, smiling. "She tripped and fell and no one was paying attention to her knee, so I decided to help her."

"That's..." Peter trails off, wondering how you could be so selfless when your own face was looking a bit worse for wear. "That's sweet of you to do. How do you feel, kiddo?"

He kneels towards her, and she grins really big. "Better!"

"Alright, high five then." Peter high fives her, and she dashes off afterwards, most likely looking for the parent she came with.

"Why didn't you respond to my calls?" Peter asks you as soon as you turn back to him. "I thought... I thought the worst had happened-"

"Peter, please. Stop with the wounded ego." May calls him out, listening from the sidelines. "What's important is that she's safe and in one piece- that's more than enough to feel grateful about."

Peter looks down, ashamed. He knows May is right, and he has to swallow his pride for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Peter." You grasp his hand, and he looks back at you, jaw tight as he listens. "I didn't mean to not answer your calls- my phone got shattered. And I didn't know where to find you after I woke up- I was already being taken away by Sable guards to 'safety' and then I decided my best chance to find you was over here."

"Oh." Peter feels kind of dumb, but he also feels glad you think of FEAST as a spot to find him. "I should've kept you safe."

"Don't. Don't make yourself crazy with what you could've done." You plead with him, and he sighs but shakes his head. "My arm will heal with time. I guess I landed on it weirdly and broke it."

Peter winces. "Well, you can always ask me for help if it bothers you. I'm there for you."

He traces your lip, where the cut under is still a red-brown, harsh hue in comparison to the pink of your bottom lip, and May takes this as her cue to leave.

Peter snorts. "I wish you had my-"

"Super healing? Yeah, I wish that too." You laugh. "Were you lucky enough to not get hit, or did you just heal on the way here?"

Peter's reaching for a facial bandage and some rubbing alcohol. "The latter."

"Ugh, lucky bastard." You smile up at him, cringing only slightly as Peter rubs away the blood from your wound. "I'm just glad that means I don't have to worry too much about you."

"You still do." Peter remarks, placing the bandage on your face. "But that just means you love me."

And, being ever so thankful that you're safely back in his arms, Peter places a soft kiss on your forehead, and then a slightly-less-soft one on your mouth, hoping it doesn't hurt you, but happy that you kiss him back anyways.

[artytaeh]

mattheo actually craves love and attention, if you give him a egg with silly eyes drawn on them he will be attached to it like its his kid

regulus would love poems, idk if its common sense at this point but for me Regulus is REALLY into literature

draco would love hair dye

blaise would love that little handmade gifts that has the spotify thing to use the qr code on, he's really into music, change my mind

UNIRONICALLY, i feel like mattheo is one of my favorite incorrect quotes. it doesn't matter if it's silly, or would give him a slightly less tough, masculine look; mattheo quickly becomes attached to whatever you gave him and proudly brags that it's his. a present from you. to HIM.

mattheo: what's this bullshit?

reader: ah, you don't have to keep it—

mattheo: [hugging whatever you gave him close to his chest, turning his body to shield it from your grasp] back off. it's mine now.

⭑ ⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

as for regulus, you gave me an epiphany?! that sounds so much like him. regulus + love poems made my heart ache in a strange way ☹️✋ nevermind what he says, i know that regulus would be able to write the most gut wrenching, painfully beautiful poem ever. tragically beautiful type of writing.

⭑ ⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

draco receiving hair dye made me laugh because at first he'd be offended. would look at you as if you had rapped a whole song insulting his family, from his ancestors to his future children.

(he'd still keep the hair dye. no way in hell is he wasting it.)

but depending on how close you are to him, and if you don't make jokes about him bleacing his hair, draco would be so grateful. specially if you bought it because you noticed that his stock was nearly ending. to him, it's the fact that you payed such close attention, and care for him.

⭑ ⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

AND YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT BLAISE. i totally see him as the type of person that has ten different playlists, for ten different things.

playlist to make out, playlist to shower, playlist while he's working out, another one to study too. would make you a playlist for your first month together, and even one with songs meant to cheer you up, if you're going through a rough week.

would love it if you made a playlist about your favorite songs, because that allows him to discover more songs that he might like, while also getting to know you better. 🗯️

[sant-riley]

[Ghost, Soap and Price when you ask them "would you get my name tattooed on you?"] headcanons

A/N: This is for fun, no one requested it but I love tattoos and I got some soooooo here we go!

A/N 2: this was started back in December lmfao whoops, anyways this is just some random thoughts .

Ghost:

Ghost is gonna either A) look at you like you're stupid as fuck or B) call you stupid as fuck for even asking if you two are not close.

However, you are close so he humors you, despite not saying a for sure yes or no.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you love me~"

"You think I love you?" Dude is making heart eyes at you as y'all speak, he's full of shit.

You pester him and poke at his chest, telling him you want your name here or there and he just rolls his eyes when he lays on his back.

He makes grunts and snarky remarks like he'd cut the skin off and belly laughs when you pout and can't help but flick your forehead and say it wouldn't happen.

A liar, he's gonna get a tattoo to symbolize you, just not your name. In y'alls line of work it's too dangerous, he's a known soldier and he has a target on his back. Whatever hyperfixation you have, whatever special interest, is something he'd get inked on him, probably on the inside of his arm to keep it hidden.

He runs his fingers across it before and after a mission, even if you're there with him. It's a habit that he'll probably never break. (I'm imagining him with Optimus tattoo for me I'm crying)

Soap:

He's been waiting. He is absolutely saying yes. He's been thinking about it for awhile and has been designing in his little journal what fonts he would get.

You cannot tell me that this man wouldn't get his loved ones name on him bc he absolutely WOULD.

He doesn't care if it's bad luck to get your partners name on you, as far as he's concerned he's yours for as long as you'll have him and you both work together, been through hell together. He's sure of it if you are okay with it.

He's the guy to get your name over his heart 😭 probably also with some flowers/symbols that represent you around it as well.

He presents it to you all giddy and laughs loud when you throw your arms around his neck hugging him.

"You like it? Now you're stuck with me 'orever~" while he gives you kisses all over your face.

Soap proudly flaunts when he's shirtless, his dog tags and your name on his chest make him so egotistical (it's warranted he's so fucking hot)

Would be very happy if you were to get his name but would never pressure you, however if you were, he'd need to design it for you <3

Price:

Price is on the fence, he's not a tattoo man and never has been. But he loves you, more than he's ever loved anyone so it's a firm maybe.

It'll have to be a couple of years before he genuinely will sit down and consider it.

Wouldn't get your name but instead your initial, probably on the inside of his finger or on some easily hidden slice of skin.

You don't even fucking see it until months pass and he's changing.

"Oh that? Got it back on downtime between missions." Motherfucker.

He grumbles as you steal whatever limb it's on but he's happy you're so so ecstatic and he thinks the glowing smile you send him makes it worth it.

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess @stupid-ninja @milkmily @lune-la-chanson @tamayakii @teacupcollector @perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains @marsbar127xx @baddump @xncasi @king-cookiex @palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky   @wolfyland07 @diejager @hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom @solarslushee @areislol @cluelessyasmin @sesshomaruwaifu @chaos-unchecked @kalamataolivesssss @arunasmisfortune @tbrfics @117s-girl @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @sparrowwithaquill @justtiredandvibing

[reallyromealone]

Hello there!

I thought of a cute scenario a couple days ago and wanted to send it to you then but your asks were closed. So here I am, ominously crawling out of the bushes like some Lovecraftian horror to ask you this.

Can you write Bonten with a child reader that makes them something during arts and crafts class!

Like; a warped modeling clay ashtray for Takeomi, a too small felt eyepatch for Kakucho, a messily beaded bracelet that spells "kill all traitors" for Sanzu, a dried mochi made of playdough for Mochizuki, a papermache name placard for Koko's desk, a poorly drawn picture of a dog for Rindou, a construction paper card for Ran and a macaroni heart for Mikey.

You can do all of them, one of them, a few of them and even none of them; whatever you're comfortable with.

Please and thank you, regardless of if you decide to write this or not; you just reading it was a kind enough gesture to be honest. Have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening/night!

Absolutely this is adorable

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

Father's day.

Something Bonten didn't think about before (name), the three year old starting preschool and boy did he have his work cut out for him.

Thankfully they were doing many fathers day activities in his preschool, the Bonten men putting in crazy money for the highest education thru could give their little one.

"Hewr papa, a neck-o-lass" (name) said handing Koko a painted macaroni necklace that was frankly tragic looking but Koko thought it was absolutely precious.

"An ass-tray!" (Name) proudly presented the frankly fucked up looking ashtray to Takeomi as the men tried to not bust out laughing at what the boy said "Ash Tray (name), and thank you" (name) smiled at the praise and the head pat before going to the next father in the list: Mikey.

It was again macaroni art, on construction paper was a glittery macaroni mess shaped like a heart with a 'i Lov Yu papa!' At the bottom and Mikey silently cooed at it "thank you (name)" he said softly and (name) continued his mission.

"Moh-cheey for you papa!" (Name) handed Mochi a lump of clay with glitter and a smiley face on it "very unique bud, thank you" it was ugly as hell and it was in fact going on his home office desk.

"We made bacelets" (name) handed Sanzu a pipe cleaner bracelet with poorly put on beats and it was ill fitting but the words "cool papa" warmed his heart "thank you.." when he had the chance he planned to replace it with a more durable bracelet strap.

He wanted to keep this forever.

Bonten tried not to laugh at Kakuchos gift, a poorly shaped felt eyepatch glued together.

"For your ouchie!"

"...thanks..."

"Ok this is being used for work" Koko said holding the cardboard name plate with "papa" written in crayon and stickers on it.

"This is going on the fridge!" Rindō said at the shitty drawing of their dog Coconut, looked like a bunch of scribbles but the "Koko-nut" on top dignified what it was.

Ran followed with his construction paper card and (name) beamed at their praise "now, why don't we go out to eat, hm?"

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 19/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Hello!!! How's everyone's weekend?!

I had the most relaxing trip of my life. Me and my best friend went on a picnic and the place was so gorgeous I wish I was rich enough to have that kind of landscaping.

Anyway!

Here's my update. I hope you all enjoy.

As always: likes, reblogs, and ESPECIALLY COMMENTS are so appreciated and it honestly gives me motivation. We're near the end meaning this might end this week :((

Disclaimer: I did get some help with chat gpt for some paragraphs just to get my ideas across and also because English is not my first languagee. I edited them of course myself because u know how automated shit can be.

I'm learning I promise!

-------------------------------------------------

Every denizen of Hell held their breath in anticipation as each agonizing minute passed without a word from the King. Some feared he had met his demise the moment he entered, leaving them grasping at false hope. The Overlords pondered the same grim possibility but dared not voice it in the presence of higher demons.

Amidst the tension, the task of pacifying Paimon fell upon the Goetias, who found themselves ensnared in his relentless tirade about their illustrious King and their collective duty to fix Hell's problems, a duty he believed lay solely with them, not Lucifer.

The Sins, meanwhile, remained vigilant, their eyes fixated on the entrance through which Lucifer had disappeared, searching for any subtle sign of their brother's fate.

Satan, ever watchful, kept a peripheral eye on Goodie. The Good of Humanity had fallen into an unusual silence since Lucifer embarked on his suicide mission. Unlike the rest, she wore neither worry nor despair on her face, hell, not even of glee; instead, there was a knowing glint in her eyes the Sin of Wrath definitely did not like. He could only hope Lucifer emerges from all of this still himself.

At the very back, Vox stole a glance at his rival, noting the whatever-the-fuck thing he had with the King. He half-expected the radio demon to remain his usual apathetic self. And he was half right. The guy was smiling with no care in the world. Yet, to his surprise, a strained smile is etched the demon's face. It's not as noticeable but if you've been looking at Alastor as closely as Vox had been for the past how many years, it's like a giant pimple you can't ignore. There was a glassy look in his eyes, as if the radio demon is going to-

Vox wonders incredulously if his wiring got fried by that shockwave earlier because there is no fucking way.

The media demon is silently thankful he couldn't finish that thought as they are knocked down once more.

----------------------------------------------

It all unfolded in a blink, leaving them no time to respond. The ground quaked with a force that they realized was from the towering tree that's trembling before them. Roots and branches contorted, twisting inwards and outwards like a well-oiled machine, as if the very essence of the tree was tearing itself apart. Red flowers all around withered as the oppressive miasma dispersed. Then, with a thunderous crash, the colossal tree collapsed into a single heap.

The dust clears presenting a lone figure stands in the center of it all.

Belphagor: Lucifer!

There stood the King of Hell, his horns protruding proudly and his corrupted halo casting an ominous black glow. His six wings spread wide, a testament to his power and dominance. It was Lucifer. But... something seemed off.

The Sin of Pride appeared altered. His once pure white attire had transformed into black, adorned with accents of red. His porcelain skin, once flawless, now bore a grayish, melancholic hue. However, the most striking change lay in his hair—it was no longer the radiant gold of angels, but a sinister black with tendrils of creeping red, moving like of the deadly miasma.

Lucifer looked like a shadow of himself.

Before anyone could react, the fallen angel lunged towards Goodie, swiftly pinning her to the ground.

Lucifer: Ẏ̷̨̖̯͎̤͎͖̪̆̀̊͌͑̓̇o̵̻͗̔͊̃͘̚͠ṳ̸͎̍̊͗̌̈ ̵̱͙͇͛͑i̴̳͈̗̺͒̏̃̀̚͝n̸̢̧̖͖͚͉͙̤͇͆̃͛͊̿͛́̚͘s̸͇͚̱͍͈̤̘̒̂̈́̆͗̈̆ͅó̵̇̅́͜l̶͊̒��͇̝̞̜̰̘̓͝ë̶̮͔̰́̀̑̔̽͊̐n̶̡̧̗̤̘̞̑̇̀t̴͙̲̳̦̦͎͔̠̔ ̵̮̰̞͐̌͌b̸̧͚̾i̴̧̜̪̳̤͔̹͉̦̇͠t̴͖̐̀̾̌̽̎̂̅͜ͅc̵̛̞̳͛̋̆̏͆̏h̷̟̺̬̗͗̉̓̍!̴͉̲̼̪͓̻̪̻̀̊ ̷͇͓̲̬͍̦̙̹͓̔̈́͊̇

Goodie chokes from the stench of hellfire on her skin.

Goodie: I never lied to you, angel. I told you that you were the key.

Lucifer: Y̷̢̘̻̩̲͐͋̐̌́́͝ŏ̴͎̌́u̷̟̯͋ ̶͔̝̘̓̈́̄̈́́̀̐ǵ̸͍͌͝͝á̵̧̫͔̤̘̹̓͗͂v̶̢͕̘̼̦̰̐ẽ̵̝̥͈̝̓͋̌̋͠ ̸̝͙̐̓m̵̩͖͍͒͌͛̔e̸̤̹̻̪͇͔̽̇ ̵̜̬̰̟̖̘͈̐̆̀á̸̻̜̬̫̝͇͚ ̷̢̗̠̮͊ͅf̶̡̩̟͘͝a̵̢͎͆k̷̲̰͓̤̐͌̽͐̿̕͠e̷̛̪̖̅̒̀̓͐͜ͅ ̸̭͙̫̂̚ͅs̴̩̝̺͕̲̯͒e̸̮͍̤̦̯̎̈́̔̌̇͌ä̷̳̖͓̒̕l̶̦̬̙̘̝̉̏̔̈́͆͘͠.̸̨͓͉͒̄̚ ̶͈͆̽̿̋̑̈̕T̶̗̹̱̞̭̩͉̍͆̀̚é̵̹̗͖ļ̶̜̬͍͓̗̿͑̾̋̏̕l̸̛̀̆̓̾ͅ ̷̡̗̼̀̿̓m̸̛̗̞͕̠̟ę̵̬̰̻̮͎̉̓ ̵̥̩̞̮͈͖̅̃̑͜͝ŵ̷͈̥͕̦̘̙̏h̶̝͈̬͖̲̯̝͊̓̕ȳ̴̱̓̄̎͝ ̵̛̣̭̘͔͋̏́̀̋I̵̡̦̬̬̫͓̭͆̍͌͗̍́̀ ̶̛͈͆s̵̛̗͙̙̭h̷̝͌͌͜͝͠ȏ̴̝̹̻͚̾́̃̔͘͝ư̸̮͓̰̖͔̙̇́͊̽̐̔l̶͙̟̙̣̮̱̞̂͌̏͗d̴̢͊͒̉̈ ̸̠̠̮̉̿n̴͚̯̜̫̊ō̴̡͉̪̥̗̹̲̽̄̀̕t̴̢̺̱̊̉̎̕͜͠ ̷̛̹̜̿͝ķ̴̻͚̙͔̈́͊̍í̸̥̼͕̮̾̿͌l̷̢͂̏͆͊̃͠l̷̡̨͎̪̝̖̱̽̽̓͐̀́̈́ ̷͖̿̋͛y̶̻̝̆͂͝ỏ̸̧̹͇̫̀̐̀̍͋̃ų̶̟̩͔͇̝͚̎̈́̑̕͠ ̵͍̃͗͠ẁ̷̝̟̥̰̘͎͒͛́͒h̵̦̜̩̬͋͐̋ė̶̃͜ṙ̸̡̧̟͉̻̬͚̅e̵̤̮̟͌̓ ̴̹͕̮͍̺̲͇̉y̴̨̛̪͛̍̓̏ô̴͔͍͉̅̈́̌u̴̙͖͖͎͐͛̒ ̶̟̙͍̖̭̃̌́l̵̙̽̈́̐͝á̷̡͔̞͈̜͎͒͌̑̐͝y̴̼̹̪̻̒̓̽̀̚?̴̛̻̘͈͍͕̒̃̀̓̏

Goodie: It was not a fake. Without it, you would have perished the moment you set foot in-ah!-side.

Lucifer: H̵̹̩̗̑̎̈́́̕o̷̘͝ẇ̷̢̨̛͇̞̝̦̠̎ ̸̯̹͋̃͑͘͝d̴͉̭̟̫̙̠͂à̶͎̮̝̺̺̥͙̓͛͂̒́ŗ̴̡̺̬̭̝̳̓̈́̑̍͝ĕ̷͓̕ ̸̺͈̖̣̳̃y̴̜̞͆͑̉͠o̴͓͋ủ̸͈͎̳̥͈̞̍̀͜ ̸̥̑͐̇̂̈́̐͝t̶͓͋r̶̼͠ỉ̸͍̻̫̩͍̓͌̍̄͝ċ̷̞̤̭̳̈́̓́̃k̶̖̹͙̋̓̑̀̅̔͊ ̵͙̠̻̜̎ͅt̵̛͇̀̑̀h̴̛̥͉̲̬̰͛̊̀̅͝e̵͇̮̫̟̗̍͊̓ ̶̰͎̟̜̗̈̋͂̓K̶̞͉̰̫̂͂̋͝ͅi��̯̟̤̽͛̈͑n̵̬͙͑̉̍͊̕͠ģ̸͖͍̪̉͗̂͠ ̷̣̯͖̭̜̀ͅǫ̵̨̣̿̽̑͜f̶͔͖̬͐͌ ̸̼̅̿͒̎́Ḣ̴͎͕̳́ͅe̶̛̞̱̦͈l̴̡̲̯͔̰̱̂̅̀̄̈͗͋l̸͍̩̯̗̏?̴̯̥̭̦͙̃̏!̸̼̹͍͖͒̊̅̊̌̔̍

Goodie: Do not delude yourself. There was no chance that this could have ended differently.

Lucifer was heaving so much that Goodie could sense his energy waning. Seizing the opportunity, she managed to escape his clutches. Despite the danger surrounding her, (such bothersome loyalty) she couldn't resist letting out a chuckle, teasing the angel one last time.

Goodie: I gotta say, angel, I do like your new look. Corruption definitely suits you.

Lucifer: F̸̢̨͔̲͖̖̳͍̑̽͜U̵̼̪̰͈̟̜͙͌́́̅̈́̔C̷̢̯͓̘̬͖̝̎K̶̳̖͓̘̝̗̀̓̈́̾̉̾̾͊͠͝Î̶͇͕͚̪̭̎N̴͉̟͍̻͇̚G̵̠̲̰͈̖̎͂͋̾ ̴̧̥͕̹̭̘̜͍̟̎̂̔͗̋̿̒B̶̢̦̤̥͕͉͋̂͌́́͂̈̔͠I̸̗̭̼͊̐͂̀̈́̐̏̐T̸̠̹͓̮̱̻̹̯͉̦̍̔̽̍̄͌̆C̸͍̩̉̈́̈́̄͒̓͑̾͝ͅḨ̴̦̙͉̫̪̫̇̀̄̈́̋͘!

Lucifer then collapses to his knees, clutching his throat as if he's drowning in searing heat. Confusion and desperation fill his voice as he struggles for breath.

Lucifer: How? *gasp* why? *gasp* -trusted-

There's a flurry of movement around him, voices overlapping and blending into a chaotic white noise. Amidst it all, someone speaks with a commanding tone, their words cutting through the haze.

Alastor: Listen to only me, my dear.

There was a faint humming of music? Was Alastor here?

Alastor: I'm here, my Majesty. Calm yourself. You need not to panic.

He's trying, he really is. But his ears are muddled and he can't understand anything anymore. Everything is happening all at once, leaving him disoriented and terrified.

As consciousness begins to slip through his grasp, the Sin of Pride feels a sense of detachment. A new presence moves in front of him, accompanied by a chorus of apologies that echo faintly in his ears.

A cool sensation brushes against his fevered forehead, offering a brief respite from the overwhelming heat and chaos. And with that fleeting moment of relief, Lucifer succumbs to the darkness.

Roo: How fun~

--------------------------------------

Transformation central! (Transformation central!)

Reformation central! (Reformation central!)

Transmogrification central!

[thememoryofthatday]

A few miles from my house, there is a church where I take my daughter to get pumpkins every fall. As an atheist, I normally don't support churches, but this one doesn't bother me. My husband and I call it the gay church because they proudly fly a bunch of LGBTQIA+ flags out front, and their slogan is "A Place Where All Are Welcome." Their pumpkin patch proceeds don't go to missionary work; they go to supporting homeless teens and other actual charitable causes.

When we first moved here, the gay church would host various fundraisers for those charitable causes. One of these events was a family-friendly drag bingo night. Remember not too long ago how there was a big push by conservative groups to ban drag shows all over the USA? The gay church got caught up in that, suddenly becoming a target for far-right protests.

By some weird chance, I didn't drive past the gay church the day it happened. I drive past it most days, so I was surprised the next day when I saw the news. Neo-Nazi groups, including the Proud Boys, Patriot Front, and the Aryan Freedom Network came out to protest this tiny little church where we buy our pumpkins. Many of them were armed with assault rifles; some waved Nazi flags and gave Nazi salutes. Counter-protesters stood in front of the church with signs and pride flags, too. Police in riot gear had to keep them apart.

The local news reported that the two sides were at odds over "providing a safe place for all" vs. "advocating for children in the community," which is an absurd way of putting it, but sure. What struck me most about the reports, though, was not that they ignored the presence of the Nazi groups or carefully edited their footage to avoid showing any swastikas that were present. It was the non-Nazi protesters who came out to picket the church, themselves representing churches or other religious groups. Those protesters complained about being grouped in with the Nazis, whom they found despicable, and it made me laugh because... I mean, you chose your side of the street, didn't you? You might not be able to control who else was on that side, but you sure as hell had control over whether or not to join them.

That's how I feel about the people who voted for Trump in this election (and the last one, and the one before that). Trump himself has told us that there are very fine people on both sides, and to be honest, I kind of understand that. Everyone wants to think of themselves as a good person; even those who don't think they're particularly good still think they're at least right in their beliefs about the world. Everyone is the protagonist of their own life story, and few ever think of themselves as being on the wrong side of anything.

Maybe most of those Trump voters are very polite. Maybe they love animals and do charitable work and donate to causes that those of us on the political left would happily donate to. Maybe they make the best brownies you've ever had and always tip well. Maybe they're friendly with their neighbors even though their neighbors are immigrants. Maybe they are immigrants themselves.

But whatever else they might be, they picked their side, and it wasn't the side of inclusion or kindness. They crossed the street and stood next to the Nazis.

So to all the very fine people out there who voted for Trump, whether you did it because you sincerely believe that public schools are performing sex-change operations on children or whether you just wanted another fucking tax cut, recognize that you banded together with the worst elements of our society in order to achieve your goal. We on the left get taken to task for lumping you in with Nazis, but you lumped yourself in with them by choice. The Nazis are celebrating right now because of the decision you made. They couldn't have won without you.

Go sit in that for a while.

[dira333]

To sing and to listen - Present Mic x reader

TW: grief, although lightly mentioned - Song is The Old Therebefore by Suzanne Collins

My Kofi if you want to tip me

The first time you called in was out of desperation.

Little Tobio was inconsolable in your arms, his loud cries turned into whimpers as you held him close in the night. He refused to fall asleep and you feared he would wake up the rest of the kids if he started screaming again.

“I want my grandpa.” He whimpered into your neck as you held him close. 

“I know, Tobio. I know.” You rubbed circles into his back and turned the knob on your radio, hoping the music would calm him down a little even though singing to him hadn't helped.

Instead, you were greeted by a cheerful voice.

“Welcome back, Listeners! Tonight we’re answering all kinds of questions around the topic ‘heroes of the day’. I’m excited to hear from you. This is Present Mic with Hands Up Radio!”

Tobio pulled back his head to squint at the radio.

“Who’s that?” The little boy asked and you propped him up a little.

“That’s Present Mic. He’s a Hero who does Radio Shows as well.”

“What kind of hero?”

“I think he has a voice quirk… Wait…” You pulled your phone from your worn-out cardigan and pulled up the hero stats. “See? That’s him.”

Tobio giggled, the first happy sound of his today. “He’s got funny hair.”

“He does, doesn’t he?”

While an old ACDC song played on the Radio you managed to capture the boy in silly small talk but soon his eyes darkened again and you could feel him slip into his grief yet again.

“Shall we call him? Present Mic? We can ask him about his own grandpa or whatever you want.”

“We can?”

“Sure we can. But it’s pretty late so he will surely ask you to go to bed after that.”

Tobio pondered that for a moment until he nodded, blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Yes! I wanna ask him.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s see if we can get through.”

You turned the volume down on the radio and tapped around on your phone until you found the number. After two rings, the call connected and a friendly female voice called out to you. “Hell there and welcome to Hands Up Radio. If you’ll hang on for a second, you’ll be the next caller on air. Can you give me your name please?”

“Uh, yes. Sure. It’s ___, I’m here with my little friend Tobio.”

“Oh, how nice. And, you’re up.”

You get little time to steel your nerves before you hear Present Mic’s voice. You don’t know how old he is but his introduction to the world of Heroes has been rather recent. His voice sounds young though, and reminds you of someone your age.”

“Hello, Listener! You called in with a question and we’re excited to hear it! Let’s rock and rrrrrumble!”

Tobio giggles next to you and you press on, if only to keep him happy for longer.

“Hello, I’m calling with my little friend Tobio who wants to ask you something.”

“Well, hello there, Tobio! How are you tonight?”

“I’m fine.” Tobio squeaks and giggles. “How are you?”

“Absolutely fantastico, now that I’ve heard you! How old are you, my friend?!”

“I’m five and a half!” He exclaims proudly.

“This old already?! My my, I’ll have to watch out for your hero debut! Are you planning to become a hero?!”

“NO!” Tobio cries out happily, laughing along with Present Mic. “I’m gonna be a teacher like my grandpa!”

“A teacher?! What a grand idea! And what do you want to teach?”

“Volleyball!” Tobio’s scrambling in your arms now, almost as if he wants to crawl into the phone. “And other sports too, like grandpa, but mostly volleyball.”

“Sports education, what a great plan! Now, what do you or your mother want to ask?”

You laugh, embarrassed by the assumption. Tobio’s quick to handle it.

“___ is not my mom! She’s my best friend!” He corrects. “And I wanna ask… Do you have a grandpa too, Mr. Present Mic, Sir?”

“A grandpa? Well, of course, I have, and two of them as well! Both fabulous men, you know, but sadly they were not teachers like yours.”

“No?” Tobio’s eyes are big. “What did they do?”

Present Mic's voice now carries an almost lost touch to it, as he delves into his past.

“My mother’s dad was a singer and he was fantastic. He died very young, so I never met him. And my father’s dad is a rice farmer, with hands so big he could scoop you up and throw you around like you’re nothing but a bag of rice.”

“Can you give them a hug from me?” Tobio asks, his small voice loud in the quiet room. It’s quiet on the other side of the phone and when Present Mic answers, his voice is thick with emotion.

“Will do, little Tobio. Sadly, I have to answer more questions, but I guess it’s time for bed now for you, right?”

“Yes.” Tobio agrees. “I promise I’ll go to sleep. Sleep tight Mr. Present Mic, Sir!”

The call cuts off and you turn the volume on the radio up again, catching the emotion still clinging to Present Mic’s voice.

“My, my, what a boy.” He says. “He reminded us all to appreciate our loved ones tonight, wouldn’t you say? Let’s think of them with our next song, shall we?”

-

“Oba-san!” Little Toruu pulls on your pant leg. “Can we listen to the radio tonight?”

You agree willingly, heart still a little raw from Tobio leaving this week. 

Sure, you were more than happy that they found his father’s cousin, a single woman in her thirties, who was more than willing to raise him now that his parents were dead and his grandpa in a nursing home. But you missed him, with his shy smile and blueberry eyes. 

Toruu, two years older than Tobio, was dreaming of becoming a Hero himself. Sadly, his Quirk only seemed to allow him to increase the power of the Quirks around him.

He was a problem child, too smart for his own good and too stubborn to accept any advice.

“Bedtime was hours ago,” Toruu has the decency to look ashamed as he sits on a pillow in the middle of the room, three other boys crowded around him. Three more boys are sleeping, undeterred by the radio playing.

“We wanna talk to Present Mic too!” Takahiro explains, his hair a mess of pink locks and ripe strawberries growing out of them. 

You sigh. Something like that happening should have been clear from the start. Tobio had never been one to keep a secret to himself.

“You too, Hajime, Issei?” Hajime has the decency to blush and curl into himself, almost resembling a turtle. Issei just stares at you with deep dark eyes. He’s learned not to talk too much, the birds taking flight from his mouth with every word hurting his throat.

“Alright, alright.” You take a seat in their circle. “Does everyone have their own question or do you just have one?”

Issei hands you a paper covered in his messy handwriting.

“You want me to read your question?” Issei nods.

“Mine too.” Hajime puts another note on top of the first, followed by Takahiro who’s suddenly not so convinced he can pull off talking to a radio host.

Toruu however, has his arms crossed over his chest. “I will talk myself.”

“Alright. But quietly. We don’t want to wake the others.”

-

“Welcome, Listener! What question do thee have for us?” Present Mic’s voice rumbles from the phone and Toruu presses against your side, suddenly shy.

“Hi, it’s me again.” You start, cringing at your own awkwardness. “Tobio had so much fun the others want to talk to you too.”

“The others? My, how many siblings are we talking?!”

“We’re not siblings!” Toruu complains angrily, not liking it one bit to be compared to little Tobio. “We live in a children’s home.”

“Toruu.” You chide him softly, before explaining. “I’m a caretaker at a children’s home. I’d rather not have the name aired on radio but the kids love your show. I’m here with the older boys tonight, Toruu is 8, Hajime is 8 and a half, and Issei and Takahiro are both nine. They all have a question each but want me to ask you for them.”

You’re a little breathless from your ramble but Present Mic just cooes excitedly over the phone.

“No way! I didn’t know I had such dedicated listeners! What do you guys want to be when you grow up?”

“I wanna be a hero!” Toruu calls out. “The best there is.”

The other three look up at you with big round eyes, only Takahiro brave enough to whisper “I want to work at a zoo.”

“Takahiro loves Zebra’s,” you explain. “Hajime wants to travel. And Issei wants to be a photographer.”

“My, my, what dedicated fellows we have here! Now, lets hear your questions, young Listeners! I’m so excited.”

Toruu, suddenly shy, nudges you to read the others first.

“Hajime wants to know if you’ve ever been outside of Japan.”

“I have! What a great question, Hajime! I went to England once and it was a-may-zing! Promise me to go there for me one day and think of me when you sit in the London Eye and look down at the city.”

“I promise,” Hajime whispers into the phone before pulling his head back into himself again.

Another look at Toruu who’s still shaking his head. 

“Issei wants to know what your favorite bird is.”

“My favorite bird? That’s a tough question, little Listener! There are so many wonderful ones to choose from! But there’s one, with white feathers and a great haircut, if you ask me, who can talk back. That one should be named Present Mic’s favorite bird but I’ve forgotten its name, I’m afraid.”

“A cockatoo!” Issei calls out and a little sparrow springs from his lips, fluttering around the room. You whistle softly and it lands on your hand, settling in as if for the night.

“A cockatoo? How smart you are, my friend! Now, I believe we have two more questions to go?”

You know you’re taking up a lot of time. Grateful that he’s not rushing through this, you read out the next question. “Takahiro wants to know if you like strawberries. He grows them on his head.”

“I loooove strawberries!” Present Mic calls out excitedly and Takahiro blushes a perfect shade of strawberry red. “What an excellent quirk to have, my friend!”

“Do you need a sidekick?” Toruu interrupts him, voice a little breathy, eyes wide. “Because I have a quirk that enhances other quirks and I-”

“Wow, my friend, that is your quirk?!” Present Mic sounds thrilled as always, his tone just right to have Toruu beaming at you as he listens. “What an amazing quirk to have! Sadly we cannot take in any sidekicks under the age of fifteen, but I’ll be more than happy to have you by my side if you still want to be my sidekick then. Does that sound like a deal?”

“DEAL!”

-

The next week, you’re home in bed with a fever and a raw throat.

Next to your bed is the note that the girls scribbled onto, not wanting to miss out on questioning Present Mic. You’re sure they won’t mind waiting another week for their chance but half an hour before his show starts you wake up and are unable to fall asleep again.

You turn on the radio, telling yourself that you’ll only listen to his show until you feel tired enough to fall asleep again, but to your surprise, Present Mic sounds a little off today. His voice, usually cheerful, sounds almost timid today. You wonder if he got hurt in a fight or if he’s sick as well and before you know it, your phone is already in your hands.

The call connects almost instantly. You state your name and the female voice greets you cheerfully.

You miss half of Present Mic’s greeting because you have to sneeze violently. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” You begin before realizing that you’ve just sneezed AND cursed on live radio. He laughs and it sounds a little lighter than before. 

“No worries, the weather this week must get to everyone, am I right?”

“About that!” You say, aware that your voice sounds a little rough right now. “I’m without the kids tonight because little Hitoka got a cold and therefore I got it too. I just wanted to ask… How are you?”

Silence follows your question and for a second you fear they have kicked you off the call until you hear a heavy sigh.

“I- I have to preface this by saying that I’m healthy, not hungry, not in want of clothes or a home or anything, but… it’s nice to hear a question like this on a day like today. You couldn’t know this nor anyone else out there but today is the anniversary of a good friend’s death and-” You can hear him swallow thickly and wonder how he might look right now. 

You picture him like on of your kids. Maybe he turns grumpy when he’s sad, like Kei. Or he blubbers in tears like Asahi. Maybe it’s that picture that loosens your tongue, because Asahi only ever cheers up when you sing with him, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, scratched up on the edges and a little breathless from the cold, but unmistaken.

“You’re headed for heaven, the sweet old hereafter, and I’ve got one foot in the door…” You sing, the melody too well-known to you after years of helping mourning children, “But before I can fly up, I’ve loose ends to tie up, right here in the old therebefore…”

He doesn’t interrupt you, and you keep singing, the words flowing a bit smoother now as if they’re coated in honey, soothing your throat.

“I’ll be along, when I’ve finished my song, when I’ve shut down the band, when I’ve played out my hand, when I’ve paid all my debts, when I have no regrets, right here in the old therebefore. When nothing is left anymore.”

You sing the whole song, wondering if your quirk might work through the radio, or if the words might soothe someone in all those listening.

When you end, it’s quiet again, until you can hear Present Mic mutter a quiet “Thank you.” The call ends and you know you’ve probably embarrassed yourself on live radio right now, but if you’ve soothed his pain, if only a little, you’ll be more than happy about that.

-

There’s a man waiting in the entryway of the Crimson Riot Children’s home when you come in for the night shift.

He’s tall, blond, and good-looking, his long hair tied up in a bun.

“I’m sorry, visitation ends at five p.m.” You explain softly and he nods. 

“I was… I wanted to… talk to you.”

You blink, searching your memory for his face. He’s not a relative nor on the list of possible parents. But he looks familiar and you need an embarrassingly long time to connect the dots.

“Mr. Present Mic.” You blurt out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”

He laughs softly. “That was the plan, actually. I… I know you’re just about to start working but I wanted to… get to know you, maybe? Have a coffee together?”

“With me?” You point at yourself, spellbound. 

He smiles. 

“Yeah.”

There’s a rumble on the stairs and the newest addition to the family, purple-haired Hitoshi, turns up, looking anxiously between the two of you.

“Hi there, buddy.” You offer him your hand for the elaborate handshake he came up with this week. “Are you already done with dinner?”

He nods, sliding up to you and taking your hand, staring up at Present mic with curious purple eyes. 

“You have a voice quirk too, right?” He asks, direct as you’ve learned him to be.

“Yeah, I do. You too?”

Hitoshi nods but refrains from using it before he points at you.

“Oba-san has one too.”

“I figured as much.” Present Mic offers with a grin. “Had the whole studio smitten last week.”

“Oh, it’s not like that.” Your face burns under his praise. “It’s only a weak quirk and works mostly on animals.”

“Still.” He falls quiet after that, the three of you standing around in awkward silence.

Present Mic is the first to break it.

“You might be curious how I found you and why, but, as I said, I was very touched and I’d like… if you don’t want though, that’s completely fine.”

“When does your show start?” You ask. “It’s Friday, right? You have your show later.”

“Oh, I have to be in the studio at nine.”

“And when do you get out?”

“I usually leave at six in the morning.” 

You nod, before looking down at Hitoshi who looks curiously back up at you.

“If you want,” you tell him softly, trying to keep your voice from shaking, “You can come up and get to know the kids before the show. The girls wanted to ask questions anyway and Takahiro would love to meet you as well. And if you still want, we can… we can get a coffee in the morning. My shift ends at six as well.”

Present Mic smiles. 

“Takahiro, the boy that grows strawberries on his head, right?”

You nod and his smile morphs into an excited grin.

“I’d love to. Oh, and call me Hizashi Yamada.”

-

Almost a year later…

Hitoshi has curled into a ball on Shouta’s lap. He’s tired from today’s events and past nights that lack sleep, but he’s refusing to go to bed.

One of Shouta’s cats has curled up in your lap and you caress its soft fur periodically as you listen to the radio, waiting for the time to drip past you, as if today is a bathtub that can only be emptied drop by drop.

“You should go to bed,” Shouta tells Hitoshi for the umpteenth time but his son - newly adopted - curls into an even tighter ball.

“Do you want a hot chocolate?” You ask, watching and waiting as Hitoshi unfurls, capturing you with his big purple eyes. 

“Can we have mini marshmallows in it?” He asks and you snort.

“We’re at your place, baby.” You remind him. “All the mini marshmallows are at my place.”

“I have some.” Shouta croaks out. “But they’re hidden. Don’t go around telling Hizashi that I own something like that.”

“Never.” You and Hitoshi say in unison, sharing a wink.

When the hot chocolate is assembled and father and son are sipping from their respective cups - Hitoshi already back in position as Shouta’s personal weighted blanket, you keep standing, too anxious to sit, your hand soothing through Shouta’s hair as you nip on your hot chocolate.

It’s the anniversary of Oboro’s death today and your boyfriend, no, fiancé, isn’t home. 

He’s doing a show, even though it’s not Friday, because he promised not to go on patrol today, and standing still is not in the Cards for today.

You know they both are hurting and there’s only one thing you can do to help.

You call the well-known number and wait for the call to connect.

“Hi Darling,” Hizashi greets you, “Will you sing for us again today?”

You had talked about this before. You don’t like to be on his show any more than you have to, even though the kids still love sending in questions. But if you singing is something that could help Hizashi and Shouta and so many more grieving souls today, you will do it.

You think of Tobio and Toruu, of Hajime and Issei, Takahiro and Hitoka. You think of the boys and girls that left Crimson Riots children’s home and of those that stay behind, without a family to take them in. 

You think of Hitoshi’s purple eyes that still go dark sometimes and Shouta who’d taken one look at him before deciding his decision to not have children ever did not include adopting Hitoshi.

You think of Hizashi and sing, your quirk lacing every word and every note, soothing the hurt only absence can bring.

“I'll catch you up

When I've emptied my cup,

When I've worn out my friends,

When I've burned out both ends,

When I've cried all my tears,

When I've conquered my fears,

Right here in

The old therebefore,

When nothing

Is left anymore.”

tagged: @alienaiver @misfit-megumi

[xxlady-lunaxx]

HAPPY MONTH OF THE GAYS!!! | Hashira

Theme: uhm gay. (fluff w/ *slight* angst but ends in fluff)

Note: the last holiday was for the upm's so now we're doing the hashira<3 (as if I haven't only written the hashira for the past months 😭)

Ships (READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING OR DONT COMPLAIN): SaneOba, RenGiyuu, ShinoMitsu, GenMui, Tengenxhis wives (bc they're poly!!!)

Gyomei is aroace :3

(MODERN AU!! ALL THEIR FAMILIES ARE ALIVE) —cw;; homophobia?? a slur??

×××

They had unanimously agreed to come out to their families in june. Well, unanimously might be a stretch, but in the end they had all decided to at least try. For some, they knew it would go perfectly fine and had only held back from not wanting to deal with conversation over something so intimate to themselves. For others, however, it was a bit... iffy, to say the least. Since most to all were dating someone (save for Gyomei who was AroAce), they decided that their partner(s) should be present in the event for emotional support (or more, depending on the reactions).

Mitsuri was the first, knowing full well her parents would be supportive as hell. They had always been throughout her whole life and she couldn't be more thankful of them. Shinobu went with her. A couple days ago, Mitsuri's family had invited Shinobu to dinner because she and Mitsuri were 'close friends,' which was convenient as they wouldn't need an excuse as to why Shinobu was there in the first place.

Mitsuri found herself nervous, catching some of the doubts of the others. Shinobu soothed her with an encouraging smile as they entered the house.

Mitsuri's parents instantly welcomed Shinobu and ushered the two to the table, the dinner already set. There was lively chatter for a bit as Mitsuri composed herself, shooting Shinobu a quick glance.

"Uhmm, can I say something?" she said abruptly.

Her parents looked up and nodded. Mitsuri's siblings were in a different room, playing to not bother Shinobu—though she had insisted she wouldn't mind.

"Okay. Ehm... Shinobu-San and I are dating." She spoke slowly, allowing the words to roll off her tongue. "And I'm Pan? Pansexual? So I'm... attracted to anyone, despite their gender—but mostly to Shinobu-San, she's the best," she concluded, with a grin.

Shinobu let out a breath, turning her head to hide her own smile.

Mitsuri's parents blinked and for a moment, they said nothing. Mitsuri fidgetted, her smile wavering. Then: "See, I told you there was something more!" her mother exclaimed exasperatedly, turning to her husband. "Now tell me I know our daughter better!"

Her father frowned. "But-"

"I do, don't I?"

"Eh??" Mitsuri looked from one parent to the other, confusion written all over her face. "Did you know already?"

"Oh!" They instantly turned back to her, offering a chorus of congratulations. "I wasn't certain, but I had a hunch," her mother explained. Then they had another welcome for Shinobu—but into the family, rather than the house.

Shinobu was touched at how quickly they had accepted her and deemed them excessively sweet as Mitsuri escorted her home. "I suppose that's where you get it from," she commented, kissing Mitsuri's cheek.

"Eh... You give me too much credit, Shinobu-san," Mitsuri said, her cheeks a pretty pink. She hugged her briefly. "I love you, bye bye!!"

"I'll text you when I get back home," Shinobu agreed, waving as she walked down the street.

×××

Tengen was next, though he only came out to his parents as a joke because there wasn't a single person in the world who didn't know about his wives.

He strolled into the living room, hands in his pockets and said proudly to his mother and father—"Guys, I'm poly, polyamorous, polysexual, whatever."

His father simply rolled his eyes. "You think I don't know? You told me last year, and the year before, and the year before that. And yesterday. And last week. I don't care."

Tengen grinned. "Yepp—anyway, I want you two to meet my wives."

"We arranged them to be your wives—we know them. We knew them before you met them!" his father retorted, growing irritated.

"Yeah, well, they changed. So you won't recognise them," Tengen said. On cue, his wives entered the room, stifling smiles as they stood by his side. "See? They're Hinatsuru, Suma, and Makio."

"They look the same," his mother commented, confused.

"They changed clothes," Tengen explained.

"I- I swear to fucking- Just... get out," his father sighed.

"But-"

"Out!!"

Tengen shrugged and he and his wives made their way out. "Thought you would like to know, though!!!" he called out, before closing the door.

His parents sighed and went back to what they had been doing.

×××

Kyojuro and Giyuu were next, both having families that were always supportive and on their side. Giyuu insisted they told Tsutako first, since she was only one person and it would be able to make them more confident to tell Kyojuro's family.

Tsutako guessed what was happening the second the two entered the room hand-in-hand, but she let them talk. "Do you need something? Is he staying over?" she inquired, putting down what she had been doing.

Giyuu fidgetted, suddenly nervous. He told Tsutako nearly everything, and he was wondering what she would think that he had hidden this from her. She probably suspected that he was gay—no doubt she knew—but he had never formally told her, so it felt like he was keeping a secret from her.

Kyojuro went straight into it, however, enthusiastic as always. "Hello, ma'am!! We wanted to tell you that we're dating!!" he said, squeezing Giyuu's hand gently. "We have been for a couple weeks now!! And I'm very happy that he likes me back, you know. He's the best!"

Tsutako smiled. "I'm happy to hear that."

Giyuu's head snapped up at her quick response. "Ehm... You aren't surprised?"

"Not necessarily. You two seemed rather close recently," she explained, walking over and taking his hand. "I'm glad you have each other."

"But... what about that I'm... attracted to men?" Giyuu mumbled.

Tsutako's thumb circled the back of his hand comfortingly. "I know you better than anyone, Giyuu. Maybe even better than yourself. I've noticed you seem to be drawn to boys more since you were, even, a child. That's been fairly obvious to me," she said.

"Ah! That's cool!!" Kyojuro exclaimed. He flashed a smile. "I'm pansexual!"

Tsutako smiled. "That's lovely!"

"Mhm!"

Giyuu blinked. "Why didn't you say anything about it, then?" he asked, going back to what she had said before.

"I figured you would tell me once you were ready. I didn't want to push you, or assume if I was wrong," she said. "Now, is he staying over or not?"

Giyuu glanced at Kyojuro. "If you don't mind? We're going to his house in a bit to tell his family first, though," he said.

"Of course. And yes, you can stay the night," she said, turning to Kyojuro. "Leave the door open a bit, though."

Giyuu frowned. "Why?"

She only gave him a sly smile before dropping his hand. "I'll get started on making lunch, you two better go off and do what you want to so that the food isn't cold by the time you get back."

"Okay!" Kyojuro said, tugging Giyuu's hand.

Giyuu shifted his hair to hide his flushed face as he was practically dragged out of the house.

Upon arriving at the Rengoku Household, there ended up being a lot of welcomes and chatter before they even got to the point. There was also a brief re-introduction of Giyuu to Kyojuro's parents in case they had forgotten who he was—which they hadn't.

Somehow noticing that there was something to be told, Ruka interrupted the conversation about Senjuro's age—Giyuu had commented that Senjuro looked older than he had remembered, which had lapsed in a recap about the past few months.

"Is there anything the two of you need to say?" she asked curiously. "I'm assuming you didn't come here for a quick visit."

"Oh! Yeah!" Kyojuro said, as if just remembering. "Me and Giyuu are dating, and we wanted you to know."

"Oh?" Shinjuro asked, eyeing Giyuu. "Does he treat you well?"

Giyuu shrank back at the stare but Kyojuro hugged him. "Mhm! He's the best! He does everything he can for me, even though he does too much sometimes," he said, laughing.

"Too much?" Shinjuro pressed, still giving Giyuu a side eye.

"He buys me things and spends too much money on me," Kyojuro explained. "I had to have him return various things because they cost waaay too much!"

"Oh. Okay," Shinjuro said. "Fine."

Ruka shot Shinjuro a quick glare before smiling at Kyojuro and Giyuu. "I'm glad to hear of this. Kyojuro did talk a lot about you, more than anyone else," she said, ruffling her son's hair.

Blush crept up Giyuu's cheeks. "Really?"

"Yes, and he seems quite the more happy around you. We—my husband and I—are both glad to hear of this," she said.

Shinjuro nodded quickly at the inflection in the word. "Yes. Glad."

Kyojuro grinned. "Great! I'm staying at Giyuu's tonight, also," he said, as an afterthought.

"What? N-" Shinjuro started, only for Ruka to talk over him.

"That's wonderful. Have fun, and don't be too much trouble to the Tomioka's," she said calmly, kissing Kyojuro's forehead.

"Thank you!"

Giyuu nodded. "Thank you," he echoed.

Ruka smiled.

×××

Sanemi and Obanai had perhaps been dating the longest, compared to the rest—save for Tengen. Which meant they had also been hiding their relationship for the longest. Which made sense, given that Sanemi's father could possibly be the most homophobic piece of shit ever—and that Obanai's family was anything but supportive. So it made sense for them to be weary of this. They had agreed, of course. But they ended up waiting till almost the end of June to say anything.

In the end, they told Sanemi's parents first. They knew, at least, that his mother would be supportive (she knew that Sanemi was gay, Kyogo did not). Of course, they told Shizu first. Genya and Muichiro hadn't spoken of their relationship to Genya's family yet (the Tokito's knew, though), and so they joined Sanemi and Obanai for the confession.

Shizu was curious as to why the four had approached her. She paused in folding the laundry, a shirt half-folded on her lap as she looked up. "Is something wrong?"

"No, we just wanted to tell you something," Sanemi said. Obanai hovered next to him, unsure what to do. Sanemi's hand slipped into Obanai's, their fingers intertwining.

Genya tilted his head to the side slightly, embarrassed. "Yeah."

"Mhm?" Shizu noticed the held hands but said nothing about it. They would tell her.

"Me and Genya are dating," Muichiro said abruptly, tugging on Genya's sleeve. "Pick me up," he said to him.

Genya sighed but crouched down. Muichiro clambered onto his back, resting his chin contently on his shoulder.

"Oh?" Shizu smiled. "That's nice. What's your name?"

"He's Muichiro Tokito," Genya responded.

"Right. He has a brother, right? A twin? I wasn't sure which it was," Shizu said.

"Yeah."

She turned to Sanemi and Obanai. "And you two?..."

"Ah, we're also dating," Sanemi said, his hand tightening slightly on Obanai's. "We haven't told Obanai's family yet, but Tokito's knows about Genya."

"I'm glad you could trust me with this," Shizu said gently, putting the laundry to the side and standing to kiss both her son's foreheads. "I hope telling Iguro's family goes okay."

Sanemi nodded. "I hope so too."

"You don't mind that I'm dating him?" Obanai asked quietly, his voice barely audible as he hid behind Sanemi. He was always nervous around women, though he preferred to not make it so obvious. But this was his boyfriend's mother for fuck's sake! He had the right to be even more timid!—as much as he hated to act like a fucking child in front of her, he found himself unable to help it.

Shizu shook her head. "Of course I don't mind. As long as Sanemi's happy with this, then it's fine. You take care of him well, yes?"

Obanai gave a quick nod. Sanemi let out a breath. "Mother- He's great. And yes, he makes me happy. He's endlessly better than father, too," he added.

Shizu nodded. "I just want to be cautious. I made many wrong decisions at your age..."

Genya glanced at her, then Sanemi, unsure if he should still be here.

Sanemi's free hand clamped onto Genya's arm, holding him there. Genya had to learn to make good decisions too.

"Don't worry," Obanai said slowly. "If I do anything that makes Sanemi uncomfortable, I'll gladly pitch myself off a- I mean- I'll... make amendments to it, I swear."

Shizu offered a smile. "There's no need for dying, but thank you. You seem like a lovely person and I know the two of you have been friends for a while as well, so I trust you. Forgive me for my doubts."

"It's fine. I understand," Obanai said.

Sanemi nodded. "Right. Want to tell your parents today?" he asked, letting go of Genya as he turned to Obanai.

"I don't know... I mean, sure? But I'm worried they'll ruin everything," Obanai admitted.

Genya took that as his cue to leave and, hoisting Muichiro higher on his waist, he gave a quick goodbye before heading up to his room.

"That's true."

"Are we telling your dad?" Obanai asked, hoping to stall.

Shizu frowned. "You're telling him? I don't know if that's the best idea."

Sanemi sighed. "Well, we can only hide it for so long. But you don't have to be there when I tell him," he said to Obanai. "It'll probably be best if you don't get stressed about anything before we tell your family."

"But won't it be harder on you?" Obanai asked.

"If you're telling your father, I want to be there," Shizu said. Something in her voice gave no room for argument.

"Fine, then," Sanemi said. "You stay here, Obanai. I'll tell him now to get over with it."

Obanai nodded. "Okay." He sat down on one of the cushions as Sanemi and Shizu went to Kyogo's room.

Wanting to stay on his relatively good side, Sanemi knocked before entering.

"I want to tell you something," he said, in response to the loud and irritated "what?!" that followed his knock.

There was a pause. Shizu took the moment to breathe slowly, preparing herself. The door opened.

"The fuck do you want?" Kyogo asked, eyeing Shizu before turning back to Sanemi. "It better be worth my time."

Sanemi bit back a retort and let out a slow breath. "Right. I have a boyfriend."

Kyogo took a second to process this. "Boyfriend? Boyfriend?" he clarified.

"Yes," Sanemi said impatiently. "That's what I said."

"You're a boy."

"I know." Sanemi forced down the urge to roll his eyes.

"You can't date- Are you-? God! I knew it. You raised a fucking disappointment!" Kyogo practically shouted, turning his attention to Shizu. "You were aaalways saying how I was bad at raising the children, so you tried taking over, yet look where it's got you! Here he is, delusional and dating boys. He has no chance growing into a man at this point. It's a wonder he's survived so long under your wing, in the first place. Now he's gone insane and it's all because of your inability to be reasonable and let me do the work. Women are always like this, did you know? Bitches like you should just die."

Sanemi's eyes narrowed. His patience had already been treaded on and it dispersed now. "Don't talk to her like that."

Shizu raised a hand to Sanemi, stopping him from saying anything more. She turned to Kyogo and, despite her size, she seemed to almost tower over him, fury over his insults towards Sanemi urging her to stand up. "Sanemi is not a disappointment. He will never be. He's not the delusional one, in fact you might be. If you can't see what a strong and kind and amazing man he's grown up to be, then it's clear who's the unreasonable one. You can't talk about him like that when we all know that he's a far better person than you could ever be," she said. She spoke firmly, her eyes fixed on his glare.

"Mother-"

Shizu shook her head and Sanemi fell quiet.

Kyogo spluttered for a response, not having expected her to talk back. She had never done it before. He hadn't anticipated that she would start now. "You- You woman!" he shouted pathetically. "As if you have any premonition of his future! You're just as bad as- as that fag," he spat. "Don't talk to me—either of you. I don't want to see your disgusting faces anymore. I've had enough with your nonsense."

The door was slammed in their faces. Sanemi grit his teeth, turning to Shizu. "Why didn't you let me talk to him?" he said, more angry at his father than his mother. He could never be mad at her.

"I didn't want him doing anything to you," she said with a sigh. "At the very least, I wanted to say something for once."

"Mother... I'm stronger now, okay? I can handle it fine," Sanemi assured her, his expression softening slightly. Then he brightened, offering her a smile. "But what you said was great. The look on his face—I should've taken a picture..."

Shizu laughed. "Why don't we go to your boyfriend now, hm? I'm sure he's worried," she said, taking Sanemi's hand.

Worried was an understatement, perhaps. Obanai had his knees tucked up, his chin dipping down and arms around his legs. He looked up immediately as they walked into the room. "I heard shouting," he explained.

Sanemi sighed, sitting down next to him and taking his hand. "Yeah, he'll probably get mad if he sees you here now. But he'll get over it. Also, Mother put him in his place," he said with a triumphant glint in his eye. He lifted Obanai's hand, kissing between his fingers. "We'll save your family for tomorrow, maybe. Sleep off any stress?"

Obanai nodded. "'kay. He didn't do anything besides shout, right?"

"Right," Sanemi agreed. "If he had, I probably would've taken the door off its hinges and hit him with it."

Shizu gave him a look of disapproval as she went back to her seat from earlier. "You can't do that," she said. "Your father is still dangerous. I have full faith in your strength, but he has a talent at getting his way, perhaps the only thing he's good at."

Sanemi let out a breath. "Fine. I'll try not to hit him with a door, then. Maybe something more effective like a hammer."

"Sanemi."

He grinned. "Sorry."

Obanai leaned on him. "Maybe we won't tell them."

"Hm?" Sanemi turned to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Your family?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't even want them in my life anymore. If we don't tell them, then maybe it'll be more... concrete. Leaving them? Like, it could be a start. It's not like I haven't thought about running away every second I spend in the house," Obanai said, closing his eyes. "I don't want to tell them. I don't want them to know about you and try to ruin it because you're the best thing that's happened to me."

Sanemi nodded slowly. "Alright. If you say so. If this is just doubt because of my father's reaction, then—"

"No, it's not that. I was thinking about this before and I just... Is it alright for you, though?" Obanai asked, looking up.

"Of course. Whatever you want," Sanemi said, smiling reassuringly.

Shizu wore a smile of her own as she spoke. "How would you like to stay over tonight? I'm sure we could arrange some more room in Sanemi's bedroom. I'll make sure Kyogo stays out of your way," she said.

Obanai glanced at her. "Could I?"

Sanemi nodded. "Well, if she says it's fine, then it's fine. And yeah—I'll seriously punch his face if he tries to do anything to you."

Obanai laughed. "Noted."

"Alright, let's go get you another pillow. I'm sure we could steal one of my brother's. Shūya likes hoarding all of them, he should have plenty."

×××

« Word count: 3255 »

this was unnecessarily long

and i have literally no idea what the hell I wrote so we pretend this isn't shitty? yes?, ok, love you all<3 happy pride month!!!

[fazedlight]

Medal (post-canon Dansen)

That’s my wife, Alex thought proudly. She tugged Kelly closer as they entered the room - a large gala-style event, with Kelly’s name and face blazed on a poster. Alex smiled as she noted everyone who was already there - Kara loading her plate with potstickers as Lena whispered in her ear, James shaking hands with General Hanson who would be presenting Kelly’s award that night, Nia smoothing over a conversation with Brainy and a soldier where Brainy had almost certainly said something mildly awkward.

Kelly herself was all smiles as she entered the room, tugging at Alex’s side to point out an old buddy from bootcamp, waving across the way to a friend from her deployment in Afghanistan. Alex hadn’t gotten the chance to meet so many of these people - spread across the US after their time in the army - and found herself happy to finally be putting faces to names from Kelly’s stories.

And then Kelly’s jaw tensed.

Alex turned to her wife, noting her suddenly stiff frame and plastered smile. “What is it?” Alex murmured into her ear.

“Nothing,” Kelly said.

“Kelly…”

Kelly glanced to Alex. “I just didn’t expect that he’d be here,” she murmured. “That’s Dixon.”

Alex glanced over. Kelly’s former commanding officer, she thought, tensing. The homophobic, misogynistic bastard who had made Kelly’s time in the army hell - not to mention a large part of the reason she had to hide her relationship with her fiancee at the time. At least, as Alex had learned, the man’s career had crashed and burned years earlier.

“I’m not going to let him ruin my night,” Kelly said. Alex turned back and smiled.

They continued to make their rounds, meeting more people, eventually giving the superfriends a hug when they reached them, enjoying the cacophony of voices and the ambience of the evening.

“Dr. Olsen,” a voice said, as another man approached Kelly, “We’ll be starting soon, we’ll need you backstage.”

Kelly nodded, planting a kiss on Alex’s cheek before turning away, following the man for whatever prep work was needed backstage.

Alex - alone - wandered around the room, making a beeline towards the bar for a nice scotch. But she stopped when her eyes landed back on Dixon.

The man was exiting a corner door, out towards an empty and unlit balcony area that Alex had seen earlier in the evening. Alex’s jaw tensed, and she turned towards the door, slowly ambling through the crowd until she reached the quiet balcony.

Dixon was alone, the shadows only lit by the cigarette he had pulled out, burning smell dissipating in the cool night air. Dixon blew smoke out in a huff, seemingly annoyed.

The tap of Alex’s shoes on the tiles alerted Dixon to her presence, and he turned towards her. Disinterested, he looked away again. “Here with your husband?”

“I’m Alex Danvers,” Alex said, “Kelly’s wife.”

A sneer appeared on Dixon’s lips. “Suppose you are.”

Alex glanced at Dixon, mulling over the washed up man in front of her. She had been curious, once upon a time, to meet him - to understand the jackass that had once made Kelly’s life a miserable hell. 

But there was nothing to understand. No hill left to die on. Kelly had fought and won her own battles, and this man was left in the dust.

Alex turned to leave, but she paused when she heard footsteps coming towards her. “She’s here because of me,” Dixon said, standing toe-to-toe with Alex as he threw his cigarette to the floor. “It’s fucking biology, women aren’t cut out for military shit.”

If it had been a few years earlier, Alex would’ve thrown a fist in his face then and there. The insult, the gall, of a man trying to grab all the credit for Kelly’s hard work and brilliance?

But she didn’t throw a punch. Maybe it was the calming effect of age. Maybe it was the years of hearing Kelly’s psychological talk. Maybe it was that Dixon himself didn’t even sound convinced of his own words, trying to intimidate with desperate bravado. 

So Alex chose the weapon that all fragile men feared: She laughed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She didn’t wait to hear Dixon’s answer, turning to walk away and rejoin the party. But before she could go far, she felt a hand grab at her arm, roughly yanking her back. “Fucking dy-”

Alex didn’t let him finish his sentence, instead sending a swift knee to the man’s groin, causing him to grunt in pain and keel over. “You bitch,” he gasped.

“You’re done, dude,” she sniped back. “You realize there are cameras on this balcony? If you want to make a shitshow of how you tried to assault me and got beat, I’m happy to go there.”

Dixon gasped again, and Alex turned away, reentering the ballroom. Dixon is in Kelly’s rearview mirror, she thought to herself, watching as General Hanson took the stage, so he’s in mine too. 

“Good evening,” General Hanson greeted, as Alex made her way to the front of the crowd - between Kara and James, looking at the corner of the stage where Kelly patiently waited. Kelly glanced in Alex’s direction, smiling with nerves as Alex gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

“Dr. Kelly Olsen’s groundbreaking research has opened up new avenues in the fight against PTSD,” General Hanson said. “Her dedicated service to her country is only outshined by her endless pursuit of helping her fellow veterans. We present this medal to honor her astounding achievements in aid to our soldiers, and all who wrestle with this illness.”

The room burst into applause - Alex was the loudest - as Kelly strode onto stage, receiving her medal with a wide smile. That’s my wife, Alex thought again proudly, and she’s a fucking badass.

[novasintheroom]

144. Nervous

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.1k

♡ Warnings - none

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

The urge hits him on a random Tuesday.

There he is, minding his own business, on the way to the gunsmith to buy more bullets and maybe snag a donut somewhere along the way. Then there’s something shiny, on the ground, there. He picks it up – a button, probably popped off someone’s vest while they weren’t looking. It’s opalescent; it gives off a dull sheen of rainbow of colors on white when he moves it this way and that.

A small treasure, to be sure, but it hits him while looking at one of the four holes drilled into the button – this would be perfect for you.

He pockets it and goes on his way with a skip in his step.

He presents it to you later when you’ve met up outside a small Mom and Pop’s restaurant in town.

“Oh, pretty,” you hum, looking at it in the dying light. “Where’d you find it?”

“On the ground,” he says proudly.

You give him a smile. “Living up to your ‘birdie’ name, huh?” You slide it back across the table. You’re giving it back.

He pouts. “No, it’s for you!”

You raise your brows. “You…want me to sew it on something for you?”

“No, it’s just…” he struggles for words. It’s just meant for you. “Just keep it.”

“Vash, what am I gonna do with a button?”

He’s saved from answering when the waiter comes with your orders. He doesn’t see you with the button again after dinner. He’s disappointed.

The next time it happens, you’re both creeping through a bandit camp, trying to save a group of traveling merchants who got themselves tangled up in a deal gone wrong. The guards are none-the-wiser or knocked out, and the rest of them are sleeping off the alcohol they stole from the shipment. You just may get away with this.

Until a BANG goes off. The bullet misses his head by millimeters, the shell landing at his feet. The guard is yelling something, rousing the rest of the bandits to get up (albeit slowly and on wobbly feet), but his attention is on the bullet shell.

It’s shiny.

Quicker than he has time to process, he pockets the hot shell and grabs your hand, running through the camp.

Afterward, with the merchants saved and the bandit camp destroyed (by their own doing, no less), you’re both sitting by the fire, enjoying the sounds of celebration around you. The merchants have circled their carts, freely dancing to a banjo someone pulled out.

Vash thinks to bring out the shell. He palms it in his hand, lets it roll and glint on his fingers. Then, he takes your hand and puts it there.

You look at him strangely. “A bullet shell?”

Something in him withers at your look. But he manages to nod and smile. “Found it earlier.”

Your lips twitch upward. “On the ground, I’m guessing?”

Now he feels foolish. Nervous. What is he doing, presenting you with a bullet shell? A part of him cries that it’s too dull to be considered worthy. Another part wonders – worthy of what? His brain feels fuzzy; two parts of him fighting for a spot – logic, and whatever the hell is going on with him. He lets out a bashful laugh and looks down.

You hum, and he glances over as you roll the shell on your palm. You pocket it, and he doesn’t see it again. He’s disappointed.

The third time, Vash gets suspicious. In the middle of prying off a rare shiny nail from the inside of a derelict ship, he wonders, Is this a Plant thing?

He’s collected shiny things over the years. Lost them, hidden them, has a stash or two across the deserts. But he’s never considered giving them to someone. Not until you. He wonders what’s different. The nail is placed in his pocket as he returns to the small camp you’ve set up outside the ruins.

You’re working on something in your lap. You glance over at him and give him a smile before going back to your task. He sits nearby, eager to present the nail, but knowing it’s better to wait for your attention.

“Hey, look at what I made,” you say. Without preamble, you hold up your creation: a singular earring, a pearly button dangling from its chain. The pearly button, to be exact. “And – “ you hold up another earring – this one a bullet shell (the bullet shell) with a drilled hole, a golden hook weaved through.

Something blooms inside him. He isn’t sure what to call it. Reverence, perhaps. It grows into something giddy when you show him how the button looks on your ear. “Now we can match!...Sorta.” You purse your lips and wait for his reaction.

He reaches out and touches your ear lobe gently, fingering the chain and button. “I thought you didn’t keep them,” he says, quiet.

You shake your head. “I just didn’t know what to do with them for a while. Then I thought, ‘hey, I kinda know how to make jewelry, maybe I can do that!’ Voila!” You reach up and pinch the button. “Not as nice as your earring, but…”

“No!” He exclaims, taking your hands in his own. “They’re beautiful! You’re beautiful!”

The two of you stare at each other in bewilderment. Where did that come from? But you have grace, and with a smile, you say, “Well, thank you, Vash, that’s very sweet of you.”

Vash’s cheeks burn, and he laughs off the rest of his embarrassment. What is going on with him? Then he remembers the nail. His blush comes back. The logical part of him fights it. But the Plant part of him – whatever that means – demands he present it. So he does.

“Um,” he starts, scratching at his neck. “I…sorta found something for you in there.”

You smile, the button winking in rainbows against your cheek. “On the ground again?”

He laughs, “No, in the wall this time.”

“Ah, keeping me on my toes.”

He’s nervous again. He pulls out the nail. It’s slightly bent. He’d tried to straighten it out on the way back, but... “It’s…I mean, it’s shiny, and you don’t have to do anything with it, but…”

You take it from his outstretched hand. Hum. “I could probably curl it and either make a necklace or a ring out of it…blunt the edges.” You laugh and nudge him with your shoulder. “Thanks. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re doing some weird courting ritual with all these shiny presents.”

You laugh, but Vash goes still as the pieces fall together. The shiny objects, the need to present them to only you, the feeling of acceptance and excitement and attraction when you showed him your earrings –

He’s trying to court you. Plant-style.

Oh. No.

[fantasy-relax]

Jealous Kitty

Donna Beneviento x Reader (MC)

Stupid Cassandra, with her stupid crying and her stupid play.

Stupid you.

It all started because the one supposed to play Romeo got injured seven months before the play and the understudy give up four months after that.

Meaning that Cassandra had three months to find a Romeo that met her standards, so obviously she was in panic.

When you came back from working in the flowershop, she was crying in Daniela arms.

"Ruined is ruined! Everything is collapsing!"

"Cass calm down you just need someone else to play the part"

"Is not a background character Dani is ROMEO" she separated from her sister, the anger in her face made her look demented "ROMEO! HOW I SUPPOSED TO PRESENT ROMEO AND JULIETA WITHOUT FUCKING ROMEO"

She started crying again and Daniela just patted her back awkwardly.

Of course you had to open your big mouth

"umm I already had the role of Romeo, in high school I'm rusty but maybe with some practice.."

The words stuck in your throat when he brunette turned to look at you with that manic look. You took a step back almost instinctively.

She walked to her bag and put out the script and practically threw it at your face.

"Go on"

You did.

Silence.

Okay that offended you a little bit.

The actress jumped at you.

"YES, YES I CAN WORK WITH YOU JUST A FEW IMPROVEMENTS AND EVERYTHING WILL BE PERFECT"

Suddenly you remembered the times that had you gone to theater with Donna and how hard Cassandra was as director, you wanted to back up but seeing the dry tears, red nose and ruined mascara made you do it.

You don't wanted to quit working and Cassandra begrudgingly accepted it. So you had a small chat with Donna... A little tense one.

"You are going to leave me? For Cassandra" Her voice was soft but there was a certain level of poison in her words.

" I don't going to leave you, I'm just gonna be in Cassandra's play" You remarked " For three months and one week approximately. The Romeo original is going to be better by that time. I still want to work with you, I just need to change the schedule for that.

She still looked hurt and angry.

"if is not okay with you, I-"

"Ok" she said between clenched teeth" Okay, you need a more flexible schedule I can do that, It will be just for few months and you will come back to me " It sounded like she was convincing herself more than you.

"I will always come back to you"

So that's how you ended in hell for a few months. Cassandra was a perfectionist and it showed. Sometimes Donna will show mercy to you and let you rest or make you move pot one side to another until she feel like you learned your lesson whatever it was.

(It was curious how always happened in the days were the most romantic scenes were rehearsed and she was there making some necessary adjustments in the scenery)

After some troubles with Cassandra's Stans, everything had gone perfectly. Cassandra kept her word (after hours of trying to convince you of joining) and you were free to work with Donna, that some days later became your girlfriend.

Everything was perfect.

Until a month later you started to notice how much people was looking at you, giggling and sighing. You thought that were making fun of you, God, you will had preferred that.

"it seems you have your own fan club" Angie had told you one day that you commented your situation "and they seem as horny as the one of Cassandra"

" You did a amazing job as Romeo" Cassandra said proudly "of course you would end with fans"

Good news. The sales in the flowershop grew exponentially.

Bad news. The possessiveness of your girlfriend grew the same.

Donna was a really, really, really jealous woman.

It seems that her jealousy outgrow her shyness because every single time some fan came to flirt with you she will appear like a ghost and steal a kiss from you while glaring at the offender.

That escalated to her practically growling at anybody that entered the shop and look it at you for more than five minutes.

Trying to avoid hurting the business you tell her kindly to maintain a professional image in the shop, that mean no kisses in front, no stealing you away to the nursery when you are working and no picking fights with the clients.

She looked so damn sad that you almost bend your knee, but this was the best option, the glamour will fade way sooner or later but the reputation of her shop will be damaged. That was your reasoning.

She understood and both of you could make up in the lunch break. If you ended with a lot hickies as result, well it wasn't a bad thing.

Until one day, one fan was particularly stubborn.

"I had a girlfriend, here is your order, have a nice day" You were fast not wanting to interact with her for most time of need

"Come on handsome, let me show you a good time" her tits were practically spilling in that outfit of her, and did her skirt even covered something?

"That shy mouse? Baby I will rock your world!"

"Have a nice day" You said sternly pointing at the door.

" Here if you change your mind" she let a paper in the counter and walked away.

You picked the paper, a number, and throw in the trash.

You should have teared it up.

Donna had picked up and now she wasn't talking to you at all. She avoided you and it was frustrating.

When she came to the front you grabbed her arm but she easyly got her arm out of your grip.

" We must keep a professional image in the shop, remember?" and just like that she got back to the nursery.

But she don't kiss you at all! Opening time, Lunch break, closing time, nothing!.

Stupid Cassandra, with her stupid crying and her stupid play.

Stupid you.

A week of that and you were ready to fist fight God for a kiss from your beloved botanist.

You were in the shop, clients coming and going, some fans buying something just to talk to you.

Five o'clock your torturer come out her hiding.

" Why dont you take a break I made some chamomile tea"

You nodded, you go to the kitchen bringing the cup at the front as you known how much she loathed dealing with people.

"So what do you say pretty girl, go out with me?" Some fucking bitch was flirting with your girlfriend that looked far to pleased with that.

" Well I have been a little neglected" you freeze at that...WHAT THE FUCK DONNA "but is a no, sorry"

" Oh well I try it" she was gone.

You were furious. But before you could get close to your girlfriend.

"Professional image, dolcezza" it's all she said before going back to the nursery.

You were fuming all the time. At the end of the day you looked at her.

"Do you mind if I walk you home?"

"It will be my pleasure, Tesoro"

The walk was silent one.

At the steps of her family home you looked at her, she just look back to you all innocent. Like she hadn't being neglecting you for a week.

She took a step to you.. And patted your shoulder with a hand full of dirt. You blinked at her audacity.

"See you tomorrow, dolcezza" with that she walked opening the door.

*Enough* you picked her up like sack of potatoes over your shoulder adrenaline and anger giving you strength, closing the door with your leg you make your way to her room, opening the door aggressively and throwing your little shit of girlfriend in the bed.

"Why are you being so rough? " She was pouting but you can see the mischievous shine in her eyes.

Without answering her question you kiss her with all the hunger you had been keeping inside. Freeing her hair out of her bun, you tore her shirt open, kissing her free skin hearing her soft sighs you bite her clothed breast while taking off her pants.

You move away to see her, smiling at her appearance, just a few minutes and she was already a mess, panting trying to catch her breath, tears in her eyes, her underwear exposed and her panties with a clear stain.

"Beautiful"

She blushes smiling at you. You are still mad so you grab her legs moving her to the border of the bed, quickly you kneel you have been starving and now you will devour her.

-----------—---------------------------------

"I'm sorry Cara mia is all I have"

Suddenly the only clothes that you girlfriend had clean are tank tops.

Of course.

Casually she forgot to cut her nails and now your back and shoulders are covered in scratch marks.

Of course.

There is a important exam that you need to present today if you don't want to fail the subject.

Of course.

And she is looking far to pleased with herself to be believed.

Little minx.

You have to walk all the way to school, with the marks in full exposure.

Of fucking course you ran in some familiar faces.

Cassandra.

"Damn, aunty's game is good" you grab her coffee and drink it all. Ignoring her.

Angie

"Gross" is all she said before running in the opposite direction.

Mia

"Nice" she hold her hand up and for some fucking reason you automatically high five her.

There was some time before the exam so you ran to your room...

WHERE ARE ALL YOUR CLOTHES?

Empty, every single drawer is empty. And Daniela room is locked, you could pick the lock but you are running out of time so again with your face burning you go to the classroom.

After the exam you go back to your room, Daniela is there.

"Can you lend me some clothes? Mine vanished"

She looked confused then red when she understood why you were like that and shyly answer you

"Sorry all dirty"

"Are you serious?!"

"Is not my fault that you choose to get freaky today!"

You looked at the clock, it was time to work.

After another walk of shame, you enter the flowershop.

--------–——--------------------------------

Every single client had a particular reaction to you appearance. You have been laughed, scoffed and nodded.

" Ah, problems with a misbehaving kitty?" the old man in front you laughed softly at you "here this cream work wonders for that injuries"

He scribbled the name of the medicine and give to you. You can hear the laughter of your girlfriend in the back, she was having a blast with all this.

"Thank you, sir"

"Is nothing dear, I remember when I was younger my beloved Jerry was a jealous and clingy kitty, always wanting to be with me, practically throwing himself at me, fighting with whoever took my attention away" he was smiling softly while moving his head and hands excitedly "it was a problem when I had to work, he don't like being alone that much so I make sure to let him know every night that I love him very much and that I will never leave his side.

It was a nice story that cat surely was a loved one.

"Hey what is taking you so much! We're going to be late!" another old man with more gray hair than the one I'm front of you said" hurry up!

The man in front you just laughed.

"See, so clingy" Wait what? " make sure to show your kitten love continously less they want to scratch you up" he blinked at you smiling at your red face" ah young love " he turned around" I'm coming Jerry!

" Wisdom of your elders never should be wasted" you flinched, she was too quiet when she wanted" you should treat your Kitten right.

"I'm gonna start by putting a damn bell on you" you said before grabbing her by her waist.

"What about the Professional image, dolcezza?" the smirk in her face was enough to know that she thought the same as you.

"To hell with it" you kissed her" I need to take good care of my sweet, clingy and jealous kitty.

[badfanfictionaire]

Contrary to popular belief, Eddie Munson actually hates Halloween. There’s only so many times a kid can take being invited to participate in a group costume, only to find out it was a joke, before the whole concept gets ruined. Not to mention the amount of times he’s had to help Wayne scrape eggs off the trailer, or rip toilet paper out of trees. And yeah, Mischief Night is the night before Halloween, but that’s why most of his Halloween memories include Wayne swearing up and down when he woke up in the morning to broken windows and orange spray paint covering the side of his truck.

Even before he lived with Wayne, Halloween just wasn’t a good time for young Eddie. His mother refused to let him eat candy because she was convinced it was poison, and his dad was almost always too drunk to take him out trick or treating anyway. Most nights Eddie just sat in the living room watching whatever Halloween movie was playing on TV.

Lately he’s been going to Halloween parties because he makes a killing selling at them, but he still hates them. He refuses to dress up, what’s the point? He already dresses like a freak every day anyhow.

The only reason this Halloween is any different is because, after everything that’s gone down, he owes it to Steve and the kids to play along and have fun. So, there he was, sitting in the Harrington’s living room, dressed to the nines in a handmade Batman costume. Robin had tried to convince Steve to go as Batman so she could be her namesake sidekick, but he’d declined, so Eddie offered instead. He was even doing the voice, though it was getting sloppier as he got drunker. The kids weren’t old enough to drink still (haha) but he and the other adults had glasses of spiked cider to sip on. Eddie hated to admit it, but he’d already refilled his little plastic pumpkin goblet three times. Turns out that Halloween beverages can be delicious.

The night goes on and Eddie finds he’s loosened enough to join in on a game of charades. Afterwords, he joins Steve outback for a smoke, and when they go back inside he starts thinking maybe that was a bad idea given the amount of rum he’d consumed already. Because, he’s clearly hallucinating.

“Eddie, look, we got you a Halloween present!” Dustin declares proudly.

“Haha guys, very funny, but I’m not falling for your trick.”

“It’s not a trick,” Mike groans, crossing his arms over his chest, “These idiots thought this was a great idea.”

He blinks at the group before him. Most of them he knows because they’re his gremlins, but the middle figure he can’t distinguish. For one, they’re wearing a bloody white wedding dress. And for two, they have a burlap bag over their head.

“What the hell?!” Steve shouts, having just finished locking the back slider and joining them.

“Just last week Eddie said the only way we’d get him to a Halloween party was if we got Chrissy Cunningham herself to attend. So we did! Because Eddie held up his end of the bargain.”

“You have to to be kidding me,” Steve stomps forward and carefully removes the bag from the newcomers head.

Chrissy Cunningham blinks back at them, dressed as the bride of Frankenstein.

“Dustin! I was joking!” Eddie screeches, “You can’t just kidnap people!”

Dustin looks genuinely disappointed. “You could be a little more appreciative, this took us forever to perfectly execute.”

“Yeah, and I had to steal Billy’s car to get her here!” Max scowls, “You’re welcome.”

“You did what?” Billy shouts, appearing from the kitchen.

“I think the kidnapping is the bigger issue here,” Steve says, putting a hand on Billy’s chest to stop him from pummeling someone.

“Can someone untie my arms?” Chrissy pipes up.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie groans, stepping forward and digging his pocket knife out of his utility belt.

Carefully he cuts the twine they tied her wrists together with and helps her over to the couch. Steve steers the kids into the dining room for a lecture, Robin appears with a bottle of water which she hands to Chrissy, and Billy heads for the backyard to cool down.

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie begins, “They’re idiots, I’m so so sorry.”

“They didn’t hurt me or anything,” Chrissy assures, “Just kind of caught me off guard.”

“I’ll drive you back to your own party,” he offers, “You sure you’re ok? You want some food or something?”

“I’m fine really,” she says with a sweet smile, “You really asked for me by name?”

“I um, uh-” He scratches the back of his neck. “It was a joke, I just really didn’t want to come tonight. It was a metaphor, like, “when pigs fly” or some shit.”

“That’s not a metaphor dingus,” Robin quips.

“Did I ask you?!” he snaps back.

“But why me?” Chrissy asks.

“Because he’s obsessed with you,” Nancy says, joining them and handing Chrissy a pumpkin donut on a little paper plate shaped like a ghost.

“That makes it sound fucking creepy, Wheeler.”

“It is fucking creepy,” Robin says.

“You two can go now!”

Chrissy giggles. “You barely know me, why would you want me here?”

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he admits sheepishly, “I figured the likelyhood of me ever getting to talk to you was about as good as the kids convincing me to come to this godforsaken party.”

“Well it looks like the odds were pretty good for both things, no?”

He blinks at her. “How are you not more freaked out?”

Chrissy shrugs. “Like I said, they didn’t hurt me, and Jason’s party was lame anyway, I kinda like the vibe here better.”

Eddie rubs at his eyes with his fists.

“Well you’re welcome to stay,” Nancy pats her shoulder, “We could always use more players for team estrogen.”

Chrissy smiles and nods appreciatively.

Nancy and Robin finally leave him alone then.

“So, Princess, you want a ride back to Loch Nora?”

“I meant it, I kinda want to stay here.” Chrissy blushes. “If that’s ok?”

“More than ok,” Eddie blurts.

“Good, thanks,” she says, “Can I have some of that cider? It looks delicious.”

“It’s very strong,” he warns, offering her arm, “Come on, I’ll show you to the punch bowl milady.”

“Thank you,” she says standing and giving him a little curtsy.

“God you’re a vision,” he sighs.

“I’m surprise you can see anything with that mask on,” she giggles.

“When it comes to you, sweetheart? I only have eyes for you.”

“Get a room!” Robin shouts as they pass her in the hallway.

“Shut up, or I’ll run you over with the Bat Mobile!”

Robin sticks her tongue out.

Chrissy ends up staying, to everyone’s shock. They play another round of charades, then El convinces them to do Halloween karaoke. Chrissy is great at both activities. (Which is not shocking to Eddie in the slightest, he knew she was a wealth of talent.”

When the party comes to a crawling end, Steve ushers the kids out to the driveway where they’re picked up by their parents. He and Billy slink off to Steve’s bedroom upstairs, Nancy and Robin disappear into a guest room, and Eddie and Chrissy are left on the couch.

“I have a confession,” Chrissy says.

Eddie taps their knees together. “You were lip syncing during karaoke? I knew it!”

She giggles. “No, Eddie. That was all for real. The kidnapping though? That was fake.”

“Wh-what?!”

“The kids asked me a week ago if I would come, said it would mean a lot to you. But they wanted it to be Halloweeny.”

“So they staged a kidnapping?!”

“It was probably not the best plan,” she admits sheepishly.

“But, why? Why would you agree to come?”

“Because I’ve had a crush on you for years, and I figured it was now or never.”

“Are-are you serious? You’ve had a crush on me?”

“Uh, yeah? Since middle school, you remember the talent show?”

“How could I forget!”

She blushes deeper. “I’ve always been to shy to do anything about it. But when you’re friends asked me if I’d come, because you had a crush on me but were too shy to ask me out, I decided one of us had to be brave. And your friends seem like good kids, I knew they weren’t trying to trick me.”

“You’re something else, Cunningham.”

“I’m glad I came,” she says, beaming at him.

“Me too,” he says, and then again in his Batman voice, “me too.”

Halloween, from that night forward, goes down in Eddie’s book as the best holiday ever. Because it’s the night he finally kisses Chrissy Cunningham, and that alone negates every other horrible thing that’s ever happened on October 31st in the last eighteen years. He doesn’t miss a Halloween party ever again, and he’s not even that pissed when he has to help Wayne scrape eggs off the trailer again and again. (Ok, so, maybe he’s still pissed about that, but at least he knows he’s got a pretty girl waiting for him with a fresh batch of mulled cider for after he’s finished.)

👻👻👻👻

(Read on AO3)