#apologies this was probably funnier in my head

[nerdyenby]

Zane: can’t stop fucking dying

Jay: can’t fucking die

Kai: just some fucking guy

Cole: died without dying that one time

Lloyd: can’t fucking stay dead

Nya: just some guy- WHAT THE FUCK SHES IMMORTAL NOW- oh wait, nevermind

[djevelbl]

Ace Attorney crossover where, in very typical Phoenix Wright fashion, he's neglected to find out WHO IN HELL his newest client is until he's sitting right across from him at the detention center's visitation room, and he's forced to confront the fact that he's going to bat for a murderous clown who IS innocent this time around

Aka: Ace Attorney crossover, but ClownPierce is his client--

[heliads]

wouldn't you love to love her? - jack hughes

The New Jersey Devils have a new social media intern. Jack Hughes is determined not to care at all, except for the fact that he does.

masterlist

“We’re getting a new social media intern,” Luke remarks offhandedly.

Jack tries not to roll his eyes. He’s not sure he succeeds. For as long as he’s been at the Devils, there have been perhaps dozens of new social media interns, one after another in a chain of pretty girls shoving phones into his face. Every time, it’s always the same. Another girl, fresh from college or in between jobs, asking him and the others to learn dances or take part in trends. Luke will flirt with the intern. Dawson too, probably. Even Jack, when he gets bored. Then, the internship will be up in a month or two, and they’ll get another one. Prettier, maybe, or funnier. And the cycle will begin again.

It’s not like he can really blame them, either. The hockey industry is precious, even for people who aren’t playing. If these girls want in, an internship is a great way to start. Any entry post’s a good one if it gets you where you want. Only, social media’s a pain. Jack came here to play hockey, not be in a dozen new photos and videos a day. It drives him crazy sometimes, or all the time.

So, when his brother tells him they’re getting another intern, he really couldn’t care less. Luke, more prone to fits of passion over the latest girl in Devils red, is still staring at him wide eyed, waiting for a reaction, so Jack rolls his eyes and gives him one.

“Good,” he says dully. “It’s been too long since I saw a phone camera shoved in my face. Can’t wait.”

Luke groans. “Come on, man. They’re fun, don’t give me that bullshit again. Besides, I saw you trying to buy the last one drinks.”

Jack can’t argue with this. He had been trying. It was something to do. “Won’t do it this time. I’ll leave that for you.”

Luke heaves another dramatic sigh. Jack wants to do something to stop the oppressive judgment, so he does, snatching the hat off Luke’s head and shoving it towards his mouth. Luke, predictably, nearly falls out of his chair and starts squawking indignantly. Jack just chuckles and gets up from his seat, heading towards the door. They’ve been idling in one of the cafes in the massive arena where they practice, called there early for business stuff that ended up getting delayed. Meetings always run late, and now Jack has the rare feeling of tardiness not actually being his fault.

He heads down the hall towards the locker rooms, ready at last for practice. Luke follows a few paces behind him, still complaining, something about saving violence for the ice. Bullshit, obviously. Jack does what he wants, where he wants. Hasn’t Luke figured that out by now?

Jack steals a glance over his shoulder just to rub in the injury. Luke meets his gaze and glowers, still pissy from almost taking a nose dive off his chair, but all of a sudden his eyes widen at something in front of them. Jack whips around just in time to collide with someone exiting one of the offices.

It’s not an accidental almost-impact, either, this is a complete disaster. Papers go flying. Jack manages to keep his balance, but the victim of his distraction is worse off. He has to fling out both hands to steady them, catching at their arms at the elbow before they fall over. A dozen apologies rise to his lips, but Jack only gets through about half of them before he actually looks at the person he’s just bumped into– and look, indeed, he does.

Jack has just run into a girl his age, and a very pretty girl at that. He gets lost in her eyes without even meaning to, captivated by the way the light shines in them as she opens her mouth and says, “What the hell are you doing?”

Jack blinks in surprise, feeling like he’s just been abruptly pulled out of a dream. “Huh?”

The girl stares at him like he’s crazy. “Why are you holding onto me?”

Too late, Jack realizes he never actually let go of her when he was trying to steady her. He snatches his hands away, the sinking feeling settling in that he actually has no idea how long he was standing there, captivated. No wonder this girl thinks he’s insane. This random guy comes up, runs into her, then silently holds her in his arms for what’s probably more than just a second or two? Yeah, that’s crazy in anyone’s books.

“Sorry,” Jack says again. They look at each other warily for a moment longer, then collectively, both gazes drop to the papers spilled across the ground.

Immediately, Jack dives for them, trying to gather as many as he can. He springs up again, and, not trusting himself to say anything that isn’t stupid, just awkwardly holds out the papers until she takes them. The girl gives him one last disbelieving glance, then walks purposefully past him. Jack turns and watches her go, wondering why he feels vaguely disappointed that she hadn’t stopped to talk longer. He didn’t even get her name.

Raucous laughter breaks out the second the girl disappears around a corner. Belatedly, Jack remembers that Luke has witnessed the whole thing, which is just great. The last thing Luke needs is more ammunition for making fun of him.

“That was, like, the least smooth thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Luke chokes out. “What the fuck was that?”

Heat flares into Jack’s cheeks. “Shut up,” he says, turning back to continue walking down the hallway.

Luke, however, is unwilling to let go of the horrific blunder. He trots up to walk by Jack’s side, regardless of how much Jack tries to pick up the pace. “I mean, Jesus. Way to make an entrance. Poor girl’s probably going to log that with HR.”

“Shut up,” Jack repeats through gritted teeth. “I’ve seen you do worse in front of fans.”

“We’re not talking about me right now, we’re talking about you,” Luke says happily. “I’m so telling Quinn about this.”

“You are not,” Jack warns, but even after many threats of serious violence, he’s not entirely convinced that his older brother won’t hear about this.

Jack almost manages to put the whole thing out of his mind until he and the others are hanging out in the locker room later that day. They’re all dressed, but their coach wanted a few words before they hit the ice, apparently something bureaucratic that Jack can’t wait to forget.

Instead of being introduced to a new friend of the owner or some wealthy donor, however, Coach announces that they’ll be meeting their new social media intern. Online presence is crucial for sponsors, apparently, and the Devils need to up their game. So they say. Jack thinks it’s a lot of nonsense, and is fully prepared to treat it as such until their coach beckons the new intern into the room and Jack realizes he knows her. This isn’t a stranger, someone he can ignore without another thought. This is the pretty girl Jack just ran into earlier today, and she’s the one in charge of most of his Internet footprint.

Great.

Across the room, Luke is grinning ear to ear. This is so not what Jack wanted. The coach is saying something about how they’ll all be pulled one by one today for introductions and a few quick videos that can be parceled out during the next week or so. Usually, they would ask Nico first, captain rights and all that, but they need him to advise on some drills, so they go for the next best– Jack himself.

They’ll be filming TikToks or whatever a few halls over so as to not distract anyone, so Jack makes his way over with no small amount of trepidation. She hadn’t seemed so excited to meet him earlier, but maybe she’ll have forgotten who he was. It was a fast exchange. Maybe this means nothing at all, and they will have a great meeting, and he could even get her number or something. Yeah, not a problem.

The girl is setting up a phone on a stand when Jack shows up. She glances once at him as he approaches, then nods. “Oh, we’re starting with Mr. Observant. Cool.”

Jack feels his face turn a bright scarlet. “I’m not– I’m sorry about that. Honestly. I just didn’t see you.”

“That’s fine,” the girl says with a listless wave of her hand. “It was funny. I just thought hockey players would have more reflexes or something, I don’t know. Anyway, what’s your name, again?”

This is a simple question. It really is. Yet for some reason, Jack finds himself bothered. He’s been with the team for a while now, had that A on his uniform for a while now, and maybe he shouldn’t, but he’s gotten comfortable with his reputation. People know who he is. He’s recognized on the street, asked for photos while he’s getting coffee, all of that. And now this girl– this intern– is pretending like she doesn’t know who he is, and insulting his reflexes to boot?

“Jack,” Jack replies tersely. “Are you going to tell me your name, or should I just guess?”

“Y/N,” the girl answers him. “What do you do on the ice except run into people?”

“I play hockey,” Jack deadpans. “What else do you want me to say?”

Y/N just smiles at him, the picture of innocence. “Your position? This is supposed to be an introduction, isn’t it? I have to make sure I have a good picture of the team.”

Fine. Fine. Jack can be civil. He’s going to play along and then he’s going to leave and make somebody else deal with her.

“Yeah, position. I'm an alternate captain, a center. Left wing. That matters.” He feels like he’s rambling. This is stupid. He’s stupid. He never does this.

“Sure it does,” Y/N says, one eyebrow raised. “Do you have to tell everyone you’re cool or just the interns?”

“Huh?” Jack asks. “I’m not– I’m just talking.”

Y/N nods. “I’m sure you do. Talking and hockey, that’s impressive. I can see why the Devils wanted you.”

“Your team spirit needs some work,” Jack notes. “Why’d they hire you, your winning personality?”

“That, and I’m wonderful at making infographics,” Y/N informs him breezily.

“I bet they’re terrible,” Jack says on instinct. “Clashing colors and all that. Can you even draw a straight line?”

Y/N cocks her head to the side. “I don’t know, can you shoot on goal without getting injured?”

Jack takes a step forward on instinct before he remembers that he cannot fight social media interns and backs down. Still, the anger simmers in his head so bad he’s not sure if the red all around him is for the Devils or just the film of rage clouding his eyes.

This isn’t good for him. His team needs him out there on the ice with a level head, even in practice. Jack forces a smile and says, “I guess you’ll see at our next game, won’t you?”

Y/N meets his gaze with a mirror smirk, which bothers Jack more than if she’d tried to one-up him again. He grabs his stick with more force than necessary, making himself step past her and onto the ice before he does something he’ll regret. Once he’s out there, skating broad loops to warm up, Jack can almost put the whole exchange out of his head.

Almost. 

Luke finds him after practice, because of course he does. Somedays, Luke swears that little brothers must be born with an innate knowledge of how to stick their heads into other people’s business. Fleetingly, he wonders what Quinn would think about that, then moves on before that lesson can settle in.

“I love our new intern,” Luke says happily on the drive back to their apartment.

Jack scoffs. “Sure you do. You love rubbing this in my face.”

Luke glances at him, surprised. “No, honestly. I think she’s great. Super funny, too.”

Jack turns to stare at him with disbelief so abruptly he almost swerves the car into a telephone pole. Veering to correct course, Jack spits out, “Y/N? You think Y/N is great?”

Once Luke stops pretending like they’ve almost died– which they didn’t, by the way, Jack had everything under control– he calms down enough to say, “Yeah, I do. She was super nice to me. I need to ask if she’s local so we can hang after the internship ends.”

Jack feels as if he’s been dropped into an alternate reality. “You’re serious. You really do like Y/N?”

Now Luke’s looking at him like he’s the crazy one. “Like I said, yeah. Why, what happened when you talked to her? Was she still mad about earlier?”

“You could say that,” Jack grits out, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

Luke chuckles. “That’s kind of funny, actually.”

“It is not,” Jack mutters, but Luke remains in high spirits the whole drive back anyway.

To the great amusement of his younger brother, Jack and Y/N continue to be at odds the next time the Devils have to film social media videos, and the next time, and the next. Even when they start off a meeting on relatively stable ground, something will happen to have them sniping again, and they’ll be at each other’s throats by the time they leave the building in the evening.

What makes it worse is that Jack is apparently the only one suffering from Y/N’s cold shoulder. Everyone from the captain to the rookies seems to have gotten along just fine with their newest social media intern, yet Jack feels like he walks around with a target on his back every time she’s in office. They’ve started to ignore each other instead of purposely tossing insults, but that’s as close as he’ll ever get to a truce.

Jack has started counting down the days until she leaves. He would love some peace and quiet. Maybe the next intern will be normal, or they’ll all be poisoned forever just because Y/N L/N showed up and changed Jack’s life for good.

God, he feels like she’s crept into every part of his world. He’ll be scrolling on his phone and the videos she filmed will appear on his For You page out of nowhere. Jack swears he can sense her in every quick cut, every box of text, every song selection. Walking through the arena, he sees her everywhere– ducking into a meeting room, discussing potential videos with some of the PR agents, tucked into the bleachers so she can watch them practice and snap some shots. Jack is starting to seriously wonder if there has ever been a time when she hasn’t been wound around him like a loose thread come undone from his favorite coat.

Even now, he can see her. Jack has finally left a late-night practice, breath fogging up in the cold evening air. He’s glad for the warmth of his car when he slides in. Luke went back with some friends, but Jack had wanted to hang around a while longer to practice some skills before the next game.

Y/N must have been working late too, because he can see her now, walking out of the parking lot and towards the sidewalk leading into town. Jack assumes she’s waiting for someone to pick her up, but Y/N’s steps don’t show any indication of slowing down. Is she actually walking on a night like this? Jack is cold just thinking about the weather outside. Y/N has a coat on, but it won’t be enough to discourage the bite of the wind.

Before he can even think about what he’s doing, he’s pulled his car alongside her. Y/N looks panicked when he comes to a stop, but relaxes somewhat when Jack rolls down the window and calls out to her. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I’m walking back. Have a nice night.”

She turns back to the sidewalk, evidently expecting him to keep driving. Jack also expects himself to keep driving, but he doesn’t. “It’s awfully cold to be walking. How far is your apartment?”

“Not far,” Y/N says. “Twenty minutes, maybe?”

That settles it. “You’re not walking twenty minutes in the freezing cold,” Jack decides. “Besides, I thought you were dropped off. Isn’t someone coming to pick you up?”

Y/N pauses oddly, and it occurs to Jack that he probably shouldn’t be noticing how she gets to and from work each day. Still, when she speaks again, he’s pretty sure the annoyance in her voice isn’t directed at him, for once. “I was dropped off, but my friend canceled on me. Hence the walk.”

Jack’s mood immediately sours. That’s a shitty move for sure, and even if he doesn’t always see eye to eye with Y/N, he’d never leave her out here, shivering even after a few minutes of walking. And he won’t tonight, either.

“I can drive you, if you like,” Jack offers abruptly. He’s not sure why he does it. He never has before. They’ve never been in a position like this before, and maybe they won’t either. Still, he doesn’t take it back.

Y/N, apparently heedless of the gravity of this offer, just smiles and shakes her head. “That’s alright, I’ll just call an Uber. Thanks, though.’

Jack blinks and stares at her. It had taken such a rush to get the words out that it honestly didn’t occur to him that she would just say no. “Is this because you’re mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you, Jack,” Y/N laughs. “I’m walking. You should get going soon, you’re going to disrupt traffic.”

“Fuck traffic, you’re cold,” Jack says disbelievingly. “Get in the car, Y/N. Please?”

She looks like she’s going to argue, but a particularly frigid gust of wind rips through that thin jacket and a moment later, Y/N is settling into his passenger seat. She turns to look at him, and Jack looks back at her, just a few spans apart. They’re close enough that he can see the flutter of her eyelashes as she blinks. Close enough that he could reach out and touch the slow bloom of cold on her cheek if he just tried.

“So?” Jack manages to pull himself together long enough to ask, “What’s your address?”

Y/N blinks, evidently startled out of some reverie, then pulls it up on her phone. Jack follows the directions, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel. The car is quiet, and it weighs on him like a burden until he finally blurts out, “Why do you hate me, though?”

Y/N looks baffled. “I don’t hate you.”

Jack snorts. “Of course you do. You get along with every single member of this team but me, it’s a little hard not to take that personally. Come on, just tell me. Is it because I ran into you that first day?”

Y/N laughs again. It’s one of the few times it’s with him, not at him, and Jack lets the sound wash over him like sunlight. It’s a good sound. He wouldn’t mind hearing it again, maybe.

“That was funny. No, it wasn’t that. It’s just–” Her voice drops off, suddenly serious. “Do you remember Emma? She was your social media intern last summer. She’s the one who suggested I take this program, actually.”

Vague memories appear in Jack’s head. “Kind of? We’ve had a lot of interns.”

“Yeah, well, she’s one of my best friends, and the most important piece of advice she gave me before I started was to stay the hell away from you.”

Jack almost misses his turn. “What? Why?”

He risks a glance away from the road and towards her, but Y/N is keeping her head perfectly straight, not allowing herself to look at him in the slightest. “Something about you breaking her heart. She seems to remember you flirting a lot, buying her drinks, then dumping her for someone more interesting the second the internship ended.”

Jack winces. “That does sound familiar, actually. Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

Y/N interrupts him with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, no, I get it. I love Emma, I really do, but she’s got a habit of moving quickly. Still, she was really hurt for a while. I figured anyone who could do that to my friend and not even remember was someone who didn’t need me to be nice to them.”

Guilt starts to pool in Jack’s stomach, icing him down to the core. “Still. I was a dick.”

“You still are, on occasion,” Y/N says, smiling slightly, “But I’ve been bad too, I think. I wanted to get revenge for my friend, but I’ve been more mean than needed. I’m sorry too.”

Jack comes to a slow stop in front of one of the notoriously long red lights of their shared city. As the scarlet of the traffic light washes over them, Jack takes advantage of the stopped traffic to hold out a hand to her. “How about a truce, then? If we’re both sorry?”

Y/N considers his outstretched hand, then nods at last and shakes it. “I’m good with that. Let’s start over.”

“Let’s start over,” Jack repeats. 

Her hand is still a little cold in his, even after the few minutes they’ve spent talking. It occurs to Jack that he could probably sit here for a while longer, warm her hands up with his, and then Y/N nudges him in the side and Jack realizes the light has turned green. He drops her hand hastily, turning back to the road in the hopes that she won’t notice the slow flush of heat to his cheeks.

The rest of the drive back is uneventful. Jack offers to walk Y/N to the door of her apartment complex, which Y/N jokingly calls creepy then smiles for real when he insists. They part with a promise to try harder next time, and Jack doesn’t think his feet have ever felt so light on the walk back from practice. He goes to bed that night like a little kid, practically giddy at the thought of the day ahead.

Looking back on it, Jack isn’t sure what he expected to happen with them after that. A celebration, maybe some fanfares? Or just a normal conversation in which she expressed how glad she was to see him and Jack could do the same? He doesn’t get any of that. In fact, they hardly see each other for most of the next few days. This isn’t too unexpected; although they love to complain, the players and media don’t see each other that often unless someone’s sworn on live TV or otherwise messed up their online presence.

Still, by the time Jack’s path finally crosses with Y/N’s, he’s really hoping for something special. He’s sort of crazy the whole time they’re filming videos, all raised eyebrows and hopeful glances, but instead of seizing the opportunity to make fun of him, Y/N just giggles a little and goes on with her life. It’s not bad, all things considered, but Jack– Jack wants more.

When hasn’t he, after all, wanted more? He wants to be better at skating. He wants to score more goals. He wants to stop getting brushed off by the commentators. He wants, more than anything, for some reason, for the pretty girl interning for their media department to do more than just look at him with a faint smile every now and then.

The sheer wanting starts to consume him. Jack goes out of his way to be exceptionally funny, astoundingly clever, practically fantastic in every way, yet nothing seems to wow Y/N. They’re just talking, which is certainly more than he had a few weeks ago, but Jack doesn’t want to just be talking to her, he wants to be back in his car again, with her leaning over and laughing at his jokes, her cold hands in his, telling him that maybe she’d misjudged him after all. Jack doesn’t just want more, he wants her, and that is making him insane.

Worse still is the fact that he doesn’t have her. Jack has spent his whole life, it feels like, hating the ‘pretty boy hockey player’ persona. He’s certain it’s cost him deals or trades or something over the years with the way people refuse to take him seriously. Yet now, Jack isn’t cursing its existence, but rather wondering why the hell it hasn’t worked. He’s still the same guy, same face. That stubborn acne patch on his chin has been clear for weeks now. He got a haircut, and people said it was good this time. Everything should be in his favor, looks-wise. So why doesn’t it seem to have a single effect?

It’s baffling, honestly. Jack cannot stand it. Worse still, the internship period is starting to slip away, and soon enough Y/N will be gone for good, leaving Jack to reel in her absence and wonder why he couldn’t make her like him enough to stay.

His mood sours whenever he thinks about it, which is often. Like now, even, in between Jack’s hours on the ice. They’re swapping out players in shifts, and Jack won’t be on for another five minutes or so. He’s sitting on one of the metal bleachers, hoping that watching the others will help keep his mind off things, but it’s not working too well.

Someone sits down right next to him, and Jack is about to start asking why they couldn’t pick anywhere fucking else to sit when he realizes it’s Y/N.

“Oh,” he says, trying desperately to sound cool and not bone-tired from practice, “Hey. D’you need another TikTok or something?”

“No TikToks,” Y/N says, smiling. “We can do a bonus one if you want, though, I know how much you love them.”

Jack chuckles. “They’ve been growing on me.” No reason why.

Y/N grins like she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “High praise. I hope you carry that spirit to the next social media intern, too.”

Jack sighs plaintively. “Do you really have to go? You fit in well, you know. You might as well stay a little longer.”

“That so?” Y/N asks, one eyebrow raised.

Jack looks away. “I don’t know. I heard some of the guys saying–”

Y/N cuts him off, lips twitching up into a smile. “I don’t care about the guys, Jack. What do you think?”

“I think you should stay,” Jack mumbles. He still can’t look her in the eyes. “With me.”

As soon as he says it, he knows it’s true. It doesn’t have to be through the Devils or not. He just wants Y/N with him for a while longer, to tease him when he’s being stupid and cheer for him during the games. He wants to hear her laugh longer than just the next few days. He wants to get coffee and buy flowers and match outfits and do a hundred things that would be special because he’d be doing them with her. That, more than anything, is what he wants.

A soft pressure on his hand; Jack looks up to realize Y/N has put her fingers over his, and squeezes slightly. He squeezes back by instinct.

“I want that too, Jack,” she tells him.

The smallest spark of luck is creeping back into his veins. “I thought you didn’t go for hotshot hockey players,” he says. “Especially not ones that flirted with the interns.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing slightly, so they’re okay. “I wasn’t supposed to do that. The idea was that I would try to avoid it.”

Jack grins. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Surprisingly badly,” Y/N confesses. “I’m not too mad about it, though. Something tells me we’re going to make this work out.”

“It will,” Jack promises. He’s going to make sure of it. Looking at Y/N, the light in her eyes when she smiles, Jack knows that he’s going to do everything in his power to keep her. He rubs his thumb over her hand, still in his, and cannot help but think about how lucky he is.

Y/N looks like she’s going to start blushing. “Let’s talk about this when all of your teammates aren’t watching,” she says suddenly.

Jack glances up and realizes that he’s on the receiving end of quite a few curious looks from the Devils still on the ice. Luke, especially, looks like he has several questions he wants to ask. Jack groans, mentally preparing himself for the absolute nuisance his little brother will become on the drive home.

Still, it doesn’t faze him for long. “How about we talk about it this Saturday?” Jack asks. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Y/N is breathtaking when she smiles at him. Jack might have to keep looking forever, just so he remembers. “I think that sounds alright to me.”

Jack opens his mouth to say something stupid like how he can’t wait, but the coach blows a whistle to usher him and some of the others back onto the ice, and Jack is saved from himself. “I’ll see you then,” he repeats somewhat needlessly.

Y/N nods, and Jack turns to leave. He’s still got most of his senses intact, despite evidence to the contrary, and Jack does know better than to kiss Y/N in front of his whole team and coach in the middle of practice, but– well, there’s a difference between what Jack knows and what Jack does, and today, he kisses her anyway. It’s good. Really good. Good enough to deal with the teasing when he finally makes it down to the ice. Good enough to keep him hooked until their date, and the next, and the next. Good enough for forever.

hockey tag list: @locke-writes

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[spdrvyn]

unofficial sequel to mr. spider and his journalist

MIGUEL GIVES READER THE 'SPIDER-MAN' KISS — short blurb! i've been so preoccupied with school that i have so many drafts, but this idea crossed my mind a lot so enjoy :3<

"You really need to stop calling this a date. Me saving your sorry ass from nasty republicans does not qualify as a date."

"Maybe, but you're holding me in your arms right now. You're quite the romantic after all, Miguel."

Despite your teasing, Miguel refuses to loosen his grip on you. He only puts you down when you reach the small balcony of your flat, he hangs upside down from the meager ceiling above, and you chuckle. You can tell that he's frowning even with the mask on, it only gets funnier when he actually takes it off.

"I'm serious," he sighs. It looks painful to do so from the angle he's at. "You need to start being more careful. You're on thin ice with the public right now, you might want to consider hiring an actual bodyguard."

"But I already have an actual bodyguard," you mock his tone. The icey cold air that blasts when he glares at you probably says that there's no room to push his buttons anymore. "I am being careful, I wouldn't do something like that on purpose, but..."

"But?"

"I missed you," your hands delicately cup his cheeks, and you fruitlessly fix his dark hair out of his face. "You have unfortunately given me a taste of a life outside of my work and now I'm addicted to it. How could you do this to me?"

With the constant tension in Miguel's features, it was easy to tell when he got taken aback by something. Maybe you've just known him for that long that it's become light work, but you adored how all the sharp edges and lines practically smoothed over.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, delicately. "I missed you too. I'm just scared for you a lot of the time, both of our jobs are dangerous, we tend to cross paths in public a lot, it's—"

Before he can continue any further, you lean forward and capture his mouth in a tender kiss. It's enough to untangle the knots in his body, any more and the claws on his feet could detach from the ceiling.

If he wasn't already dizzy from the blood circulating to his head, he is now. He's looking at you upside down, but you're still beautiful. Stupidly so.

"I love you." His cheeks grow warm under your hands, and you smile as you continue. "You excite me in ways that my work never could, I like sneaking around with you, I like the danger of being with you because I love you, but I want us to exist outside of that too. You're amazing, and I want to know more about you as Miguel."

Your knack at journalism has (to his demise) given you a silver tongue, the confession rolls off of it like you were reading a script, so full of vigor and sincerity.

Miguel is too dizzy to be comprehensive, so he leans in again, and again, and again. Until he's stolen both of your breaths away, because that's the least he can do to repay you for stealing his heart first. Only then, does he whisper:

"I love you too."

[cultven]

Hello!!❤💛

Is it possible for you to do a fic where reader keeps putting cat ears and little bows on wolverines head while he's sleeping. logan is so sick of it and deadpool keeps getting blamed for it.

Until logan finds multiple pictures on readers phone😂

The Midnight Fashionista

Wolverine X Reader

Content: Roommate things, Arguing, Some Cursing, Domestic bliss, Mary Puppins, Just lots of cute fluffy and funny moments, You and Wade being best friends forever

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Very very small Wolverine/Deadpool violence

a/n: Another cute, shorter request while I work on the longer ones. I love the random domestic requests like this lol. This one-shot turned out a lot longer and admittedly better than I thought, so enjoy!

The first thing you heard bright and early in the morning was Logan shouting Wade’s name from your shared bedroom. Not in a sexual sense, but in pure rage. He burst through the door, finding the two of you perched at the breakfast table. “I told you to stop doing this shit! Next time I’m fucking gutting you and leaving you on the street to bleed out.” Logan raged, fighting with the cat headband and barrettes tangled in his hair. The cherry on top was the two small bows on each tuff of his wolf-like hair. He was still in his pajamas, clearly just woken up. 

“Sorry, beautiful, but that’s not my doing. It is a good look on you though.” Wade cooed through mouthfuls of cereal. 

“Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t fucking believe you.” 

“No, I’m being serious! That is a wonderful look for the Wolverine. Very cutesy.” 

“I’m going to fucking kill you, you freak of nature.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

You were just sitting silently, giggling at the banter. The cute accessories were of course your doing, but you understand where Logan is so adamant Wade was the culprit, it does seem like something he would do. You weren’t typically one for practical jokes like that, especially not on grumpy people like Logan, but you just couldn’t resist how cute he looked! The light pink bows and cute little cat ears paired with Logan’s beautiful relaxed sleeping face was just the cutest sight in the world. Your heart almost exploded the first time! Over the past week, your camera roll became filled to the brim with different poses and angles of Logan adorned in the accessories. Ever since saving the timeline, Logan has slept like a rock so you’ve thankfully gotten away with everything so far, but of course, the evidence is there when he wakes up. You know you could just take the accessories off when you’re done with your photo ops, but gauging his reaction to the mysterious bows is just so much funnier. Plus, the blame was always put on Wade anyway. 

Seeing as he wasn’t going to get an apology from Wade, Logan just grumbled patting your head as he walked past you, grabbing a protein bar, and heading back to the bedroom. You only smile innocently at the man before he’s out of sight, Wade turning to you suspiciously. “I know how fashionable Blind Al is with her matching tracksuits every goddamn day, but the bows are you, right?” You only smirk at Wade before taking a sip of tea. 

“Maybe.” You drag out the word playfully, watching Wade’s face perk up. 

“You backstabber! Throwing me under the bus every time. You truly are awful to me, peanut.” Wade feigns a look of betrayal, pouting his lip. 

“Hey! I never threw you under, Logan just assumed it was you because of your reputation. You did that to yourself, Wadey.” You pat his arm, standing up to grab yourself some more tea. 

“What’s gonna happen when I tell our hot-headed friend who is really to blame.” Wade rests his head on his fist, taunting you. 

“He probably wouldn’t believe you either way, but if you did,” You whip your phone out of your pocket, waving it in front of Wade’s confused face. “I wouldn’t share my collection of lovely photographs.” You gingerly put the phone back into your pocket before Wade could snatch the device out of your hands. 

“Oh em gee! No way you got those.” Wade’s eyes were practically popping out of his head, desperate for even a glance at one of the ridiculous photos on your phone. “I bet he looks like one of those really depressing kittens that people feel bad for!” Just as you were about to give him a taste of your photography skills Logan shuffles into the room, now decent for the day with casual clothes on. 

“Y/N are you ready?” Logan was leaning in the doorway. 

“Oh yeah, coming!” You reply, trotting over to the man offering him a sweet smile, one which he returned. It was Sunday which meant it was an errand day. Since Wade was a child when it came to his food selections, you and Logan were always the ones going grocery shopping instead. It was hard to explain to Wade that people cannot only live off of snacks and indulgent food. Well, maybe he and Logan could due to their powers, but you and Blind Al certainly couldn’t. You never minded going shopping anyway, especially not with Logan’s company. You enjoyed the domestic bliss of running errands together. “Wade, we'll be back in a few hours. We’re going clothes shopping first, lunch, and then food shopping. Don’t forget to take Mary Puppins out!”

“Aww, what!” Wade groaned, looking over at the two of you. “Y/N quickly text it to me before you leave, please!” He whined like a child, his hands making a grabbing motion out to you. 

“Text what?” Logan questioned, raising an eyebrow while looking between the two of you. 

“Just some stupid memes we saw earlier, Lo.” You wrapped your right arm around his left. “He’ll be ok without it. I’ll show you later, Wade.” You wink at the man throwing a fit, which makes him instantly pop up as if nothing had happened. 

“ ‘kay!” You just shook your head and led Logan out the door. After a few hours of nice conversation and peaceful shopping, you and Logan carried the bags up the stairs to the apartment. Well, Logan held the majority of the bags insisting on being a gentleman, leaving you with one small bag to carry. Unlocking the door you find Wade rotting away on the couch, one hand petting Mary Puppins, the other scooping handfuls of popcorn into his mouth. 

“Hmmhmm!” He excitedly exclaimed at your arrival, not making any eligible words. You only waved to him with a smile as Logan just completely ignored the man, beginning to unpack the bags in the kitchen. 

You kiss Logan’s cheek, “You can go take your shower if you want, I can do the unpacking.” His head craned down to look at you, a relaxed expression on his face. 

“You sure, bub?” You simply nodded with a smile, earning an appreciative look from Logan. He rubbed your arm, a loving gesture, before walking towards the bathroom. Once you were certain he was out of earshot, you made a ‘pst!’ noise over to Wade. His head shot over to your direction as you gestured for him to go over to you. 

“Look what I found at the store while Logan wasn’t looking.” You whisper, snickering as Wade takes the small objects in with all of their glory. 

“Holy shit! He’s going to look like a Barbie puked all over him!” He quietly celebrated, looking at your haul. There was a set of overly pink, sparkly cat ears, small butterfly barrettes that were also hot pink, and various other hair accessories for you to mess with your boyfriend with. “Oh also, don’t forget to show me those pictures, peanut! You’ve been edging me with that all day.” 

“Ew, let's not phrase it like that Wade, but here.” You unlock your phone and begin to scroll through the dozens of photos you’ve accumulated over the past week. Some blurry, some surprisingly high quality. You two were gawking over the photos, too enthralled in their cuteness, to realize that Logan had reappeared in the room, right behind you. 

“Hey Y/N, where’s that new shampoo you bought?” Noticing your lack of reaction or even acknowledgement of his existence he walks over to see what you pair were looking at. He immediately becomes baffled seeing the myriad of accessories and new ears laid out on the counter. What surprised him most of all was the collection of photos you were proudly displaying to your roommate. 

“What the fuck!?” Logan yelled, making the two of you jump. 

“I think I just peed my pants.” Wade warily stated, before turning around and waving. “Hey, big guy.” Claws can be heard penetrating through skin, leaving Wade to just yelp in surprise. 

“Logan! We’ve talked about this, no blood on the floor!” You scolded before he turned to you, immediately shutting up. 

“So it was you!” Logan exclaimed, not so much yelling in rage rather than embarrassment. His claws were now gone, not wanting to hurt you. 

“Well yes, but you have to admit you look super adorable in these photos!” You hold up your phone, scrolling through the many images. Logan just looks at the phone with bewildered eyes. 

“Delete those!” 

“But I worked so hard for them…”

“Y/N!” 

You sigh in defeat, looking down at the ground. “Ok, ok… I’ll delete them.” 

“Thank you.”

“If you continue letting me do it while you’re sleeping!”

“No!”

“Once a week?” You looked up at Logan with the best puppy eyes you could conjure up, pouting a little bit to play up the act. Logan only groaned, looking away from your pleading face. You were his only weakness and you knew it. 

“I’ll think about it.” Timeskip to the next morning you and Wade are sitting at the table once again, Wade throwing bits and pieces of his breakfast onto the floor for Mary Puppins while you mindlessly scroll through your phone. 

“Mornin’.” You heard a grumble. Looking up you capture the image of the Wolverine, still drunk with sleep, standing in the kitchen in nothing but boxer shorts and two small pink bows tied to the top of his head. As you sneakily try to raise your phone to get a good shot a hand with claws is pointed in your direction. “Remember our deal?” You only nodded with a small smile before putting your phone down and admiring the view. 

“I think I should glue some bows on your abs next.”

“Don’t even think about it, bub.”

[frostbitebakery]

Nutshell.

“Let’s put you out of your misery,” Doom says, checking the charge on his blasters while keeping an eye on the stray droid crawling towards an abandoned E-5 rifle.

.

“You’re mine,” Doom grits out, gets his fingers around the leg of the droid making for General Tiplar. He pulls, rolls. The droid is on his chest and he clamps an arm around it, sinks his knife into its neck. Wipes the blood out of his eyes.

.

“I need answers,” Doom says, arms crossed so he doesn’t try to strangle the holo. “See that you get them.”

“I will get them,” Rex promises, voice stoic to resemble a Commander’s.

Doom doesn’t snort but it’s a close call.

“I’m sorry for your lo—“

He flicks the comm off. He doesn’t have the capacity for niceties.

Tiplee is slowly finishing the transport box for her sister. “We fought a lot growing up,” she says. “We were in separate crèche clans even.”

His jaw ticks under his bucket.

“We only grew close once we were both adults. People are in motion, always. In body, in spirit. Sometimes you are only meant to meet at later points in your life even if you’ve known each other since you were born.” She strokes a careful hand over Tiplar’s forehead. “I will let you say your goodbyes.”

Doom steps up to the box once Tiplee is gone.

Tiplar hasn’t gone grey yet. There’s a furrow burnt in her brows, the confusion over a clone shooting her carrying her to death.

“I will watch over her,” he states. Promises don’t mean anything in war. So he doesn’t promise. His heart skips a beat. He was meant to watch over Tiplar as well.

.

“Botany,” he slurs out, clinks his cup to Tiplee’s when she holds hers up. “I love sunshine. And plants. There’s so many!”

“I’m gonna,” she hiccups, booze sloshing over the rim of her cup when she points at him, “I’m gonna sneak you into the gardens in the Temple and show you the strawberry patch.”

“Sneak?” He thought everything in the Triple Zero Temple is free to roam for all Jedi.

“Totally,” Tiplee agrees with an enthusiastic nod and he realizes he’s spoken aloud. “But sneaking is funnierer— funner— funyun?”

He nods right back. “Funyun sounds right.”

.

“What do you mean, poisoned?” Doom asks. According to survival sim training, the strawberries look pretty unpoisoned.

Tiplee holds up a berry, turns it around a bit. “The Dark is ever growing. Spreading throughout the Galaxy, into the earth of every planet. It has changed the very matter of things.” She smiles up at him. “I remember them sweeter.”

.

“I will help your strawberries be the best they can be, I— promise.” He wretches the word out of himself. Pulls and pulls until it’s off his tongue and out in the open. “Hold on until then, yes?”

Tiplee smiles at him, taps her thumb against his temple. “Doom, you have found a place where you feel you are meant to be. It will be alright even if my time has come.”

.

“Uhm,” he says. Blinks. Swallows.

Maxir leans back, hands disappearing into the robe sleeves. “I’ve read this wrong?”

Probably not? “I don’t know,” he almost says until instinct takes over to not show indecisiveness. “Yes.”

Maxir’s face colors. He doesn’t tend to get cute blush spots high on his cheeks but rather an all consuming flush that looks close to blistering. “I’m sorry. I misjudged. It will not happen again.”

Jedi are so graceful in their apologies, Doom has learned. It’s charming.

He holds up a ripe non-perfect strawberry. “You look like this.”

“I beg your pardon—“

.

“You’re safe,” Doom gasps, wildly looking at Maxir’s frozen figure. “You’re safe.”

“Come here. Sit down.”

The calm authority in Maxir’s voice has him on his feet and back on the ground before he knows it.

“You are safe,” Maxir reassures him for whatever reason, filling Doom’s spotty vision and leaving room for not much else. “May I touch you?”

It’s a new helper droid. Gangly limbs for reaching deep into the foliage without damaging it. Looking like a B-1. The clippers looking like a blaster.

Its head lies halfway across another crop’s field. The body stabbed with its own limbs and the clippers.

“You are safe.”

Doom doesn’t believe him yet.

.

“I don’t recognize you anymore,” Doom says to his reflection.

There’s laughter lines around his eyes, his mouth. He has freckles from the sun. Permanent dirt under his nails he recognizes as dirt, not blood. His body is covered in flowers.

Last night he met up with the last of the 962nd and Master Tiplee. Six, Mimic, and a few others had helped him haul around the huge crates of produce into the AgriCorps’ building and kitchen.

They’d blasted each other’s asses while peeling, tasting, cooking, and fighting over seasoning. They fell asleep under the stars, occupying chairs and hammocks dotting the terraces. Tiplee had drooled on his shoulder, the tips of her fingers still red with strawberry juice.

“I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“Mrnng,” Maxir mumbles, slowly shuffling his way past Doom to the shower.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Doom says to his reflection.

.

“No,” Doom murmurs, wrings his shoulder against the doorframe to Maxir’s office.

The desk is cluttered with data pads and flimsiwork bearing the AgriCorps seal. Analyzing crop conditions and rotations has taken up most of what is left of their day after tending to the fields and labs.

Maxir looks at him over his glasses before pushing them up, ruffling the short hair just under one of the horns. “No? I surely thought there was caf left…”

Doom pushes himself away from the door, takes the three steps to the desk before sitting down on a free-ish spot. “No, you didn’t read it wrong,” he non-explains. “Also, for safety reasons I disposed of the last of the caf.”

Maxir glances at the clock above the desk. “It’s been five hours. The sludge level must still be within reason.”

Doom blinks blandly at him.

Maxir blinks back before it visibly clicks. “Oh!” He buffs the back of his hand against Doom’s thigh. “I told you I’m nearly always right. Also,” he parrots back with a mischievous grin, “the fact we’ve kissed and held hands and you let me dote on you—“

“Excessively.”

“Excessively,” Maxir agrees. “I broke all constraints when I bought you last meal that one time.”

Doom pushes Maxir away from him by way of the rolling chair he’s sitting in while Maxir recalls in detail and with a lot of hand gestures how Doom had gracefully accepted being cared for.

“Or when you let me clean all the petri dishes by myself,” Maxir says excitedly, seat slowly spinning in a circle. “You were snoring so adorably on the lab bench.”

“I regret meeting you.”

“Mimir shoo for half the night cycle!” The chair slowly rotates back towards Doom. Maxir’s eyes soften. “I, for one, am very glad we met when we did.”

WIP and backstory

[christinebloodwrittings]

Somebody that I used to know.

Request made by @white-00-7

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!reader Summary: Old friends turned into lovers under very distressing situations. Warning: Blood, Adam, violence.

After the Axe-man terrified the streets of New Orleans, there was the butcher of the bayou. A cannibalistic maniac, known to left no “crumbs” of their victims, so to speak. You knew that by being hunting season, he may be on the woods alongside you, what you didn’t counted on was the creep following you, rifle in hand.

A rustle was heard in between the bushes, you aimed at the bush with confidence, thinking it was probably a deer or a duck at least, the creep making haste to do the same, to your head. “Come out, come out” you whispered to yourself, seeing brown hair and antlers, there you shoot.

But the thud was lighter than a deer’s.

Moving the bush you saw a smiling man, “Holy shit!, no, sir, I’m so sorry, don’t die, help please!” you cried out, but as you turned around the lights were off as well. The sound of the trigger on the creep’s rifle was the last thing you heard.

The free fall was the least of it, but speaking of thousands of meters high, one does not think about the fall but rather the impact. However, it wasn't so hard for you, for the poor bastard under you, it was.

"Get off me!" he managed to throw you off his back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to land on you” he dusted himself off as he regained his composure, clearing his voice when he noticed you were a woman.

“No, I apologize dear, here, let me help” He offered his clawed hand to yours, only by then both realized they didn’t looked like humans no more, “Interesting” he muttered, pulling gently on your arm.

He was looking at his new self when he heard a sudden laugh, “What’s so funny?” he questioned, then you pointed at yours and his little tail, “They’re so fluffy” he wasn’t so enchanted by the cutesy fact.

He was a deer, a white back at that. You on the other hand were a red one. A stag and a doe, how fitting both lifestyles of pride, more than anything.

“Why are you down here, dear?” you thought about it for a second, pride and rebellion was your first thought, then your taxidermy hobbies, “All I can think off is that poor man I killed as of a few minutes now, I mistook him for a…deer” he took a second to think about it, the click that made him stand up was a riffle trigger, your weapon.

He laughed, "You killed me," he continued his laughter, he took your arm to start walking towards the city, "I must say, my dear, that of all the evils in this world, you are the only thing I didn't think would send me to hell" It still made him laugh, "And it's even funnier that they killed you almost at the same time you killed me, life is a great irony" he smiled, one of the sweetest smiles he gifted you.

Now, don’t get him wrong, he was mad out of his mind, also slightly scared, not that he would admit that. Though the warmth of your arm linked with his brought him an anchor like feeling.

 After a few years of living together, Alastor disappeared without warning. "I will become stronger, soon the citizens of hell will know of my power” He used to take his place at your side and daydream about greatness and have everyone's respect, more fear than respect though.

“I will be able to protect you" that sentence lived rent free in your head, his voice a mere echo in your memories, after seven years you almost didn’t remembered his face anymore.

Alastor took care of the most bloodthirsty so that you didn't have to, without him there, you had to take measures into your own hands. The Pride Ring came to know you as one of the best snipers, the Overlord Ghost Shot, your elemental power to control the air could make your bullets fly up to lightspeed, also take away the oxygen off your enemies lungs.

You build up a company off the souls you began to own, you provided the fabrics that boosted businesses like Velvette’s or Rosie’s, known for the good quality and resistance. You didn’t worried yourself with planned obsolescence, there’s always a new design and a new trendy style that makes people keep buying.

And giving the amount of violence, clothes get ruin almost every day, Never in all the years you have been in hell have you been short of money, you managed to get a suite apartment in your own district, near the Morningstar district.

Eighty-four years of having Alastor by your side, and he just disappeared like he didn't care. Not a note, telegram, letter, anything in 7 years.

Until one afternoon when you received an invitation to an emergency meeting, it seems that Adam the first man brought forward the extermination half the time, having six months of preparation. Not one year you’ve lost a soul, but you weren’t going to start now.

“Asano, I need you to begin the preparations of the bunker, the winged rats will come down on us sooner than anticipated” you had souls knocking on your door, practically begging to make deals with you, giving that in exchange of their souls you provided safety, free housing, and a quality of life no other overlord did.

Although at the beginning some sinners wanted to abuse your good will, since you are a deer demon they tend to look down on you. They didn't find it funny anymore when they started to suffocate. Word on the street is that the air gets thicker when you’re in the room.

“I have the technical revision of my company Milla, if your plan is to arm yourself to fend off the attack don’t count on me, I have bigger priorities” Carmilla was one of your dearests friends, you made her gears laced with angelic steal fibers, and in return she updated your riffle, also gave you bullets made of angelic steal.

“I’m not saying we should, all we need is brainstorm a plan to lose as few souls as possible” she heard you made a pensative hum as she watched the overlords take their seats on the table, “You don’t wish to hide like we do, though you’ve lost more souls than I have over the years, so, do whatever you think is best, I’ll help if you want to listen for once” you hung up before Carmilla made herself aware of Alastor’s return.

 You didn’t owned a television, so Vox’s lovers spat never reached your way, and on the streets of your district no one really cared of other overlords, knowing they were under your wing.

"Y/n dear, how about you stop by the tower? They opened a new cafe on the corner, I bought cream cake and the tea that you like, it’s been a while since I saw you" said the letter that you received along with a new cell phone, Vox was more like a stone among the demons that courted you, and even though you sent his electronic junk broken back to his office, he didn't stop insisting.

“I’m so glad you came, how are your preparations for the extermination?” you brought the tea cup up to your lips, “It has been rather sudden; however I have managed to mobilize things on time, how about you?" he cut up a piece of cake, just as big as he knew you liked, “Oh we are fine, we aren’t the target anyway” your ears perked up in interest, his grin grew bigger on his face as he noticed.

“The princess is trying to redeem sinners, have you heard?” you nodded, “The Radio Demon is helping, but as useless as he is-” you began laughing, “The Radio Demon? What kind of pompous prick is named like that?” then sipped on the tea, “You know, Alastor” but as soon as he uttered that name, you choked on your tea and stormed out of his office.

And thank goodness, the air was too thick to breathe, Vox was having issues with it until you left.

“Mimzy, we know you’re in there you lousy bitch!” you heard the loan shark yell towards the  ‘Hazbin Hotel’, trying to knock the door down with a pry bar. “Gentleman, you’re in my way” you spoke, seeing a green glow wrapped the building.

“Not to mess with the Radio Demon!” taking another puff of your cigarette you watched the ten stories tall face of a man you used to know. A smile you didn’t recognized, stitched on the sides, holding his smile up. As soon as he finished eating the sharks he stopped on his tracks, merely centimeters away from your body.

“Y/n?” his distorted voice spoke in utter disbelief, “Good day Alastor, it’s been many moons, don’t you think?” He was frozen, the cute little deer girl he left all those years ago was nowhere to be seen. Replaced by a woman, wearing a dark black attire and tired eyes.

"Y/n, long time no see" he had to shift his voice a little, Charlie and the rest were right behind him inside the hotel. His chirp tone making it seem like he didn't disappeared at all, was a direct stab to your heart.

"You look..." you didn't know anymore, "Different" eyeing him from top to bottom with a disgust grimace in your face hurt him beyond his understanding, "Yes well, I told you I would get stronger" his eyes were different, they were empty.

"I see that, have a good day" you turned around in your heels ready to walk away from the place, "Y/n wait, that's it?" He was hurt? Why did he felt the audacity to pretend to be the victim when you were left behind.

"What else you want me to say?" Since he left, you stopped being joyful, the killing and the merciless torture you went through did that, and it was all his fault.

"A warmer welcome would be nice" you took out your rifle then shoot his shoulder with a dull bullet, "Warmer than that?" It didn't bleed but it hurt, so much it made Alastor take a few steps back.

"Alastor!" The princess cried out for him, "What do you think you're doing?!" Her little horns and red eyes made you snicker a little, "Is this what you've been doing all these years? Help this little girl with her hotel?" Alastor stood up, making seem as it didn't hurt at all, "Now, now Charlie, all is fine, no damage done" she tried to worry about him but it was no use, "Who is Alastor to you?" She asked you, distorted voice and hair flaring.

Alastor had his eyes on you specially when you locked on his dials flashing on and off, "Someone I used to know” the pain was real that time, Alastor didn’t even try to hide it, “Y/n please, let me explain” a small laugh escaped your lips, the first smile he saw from you in a while.

“Not a note, letter, smoke signal, nothing in seven years” he tried to make up an excuse, but you didn’t let him speak, “I had to find out from Vox, and as distasteful as he is, at least is a true friend to be in touch at least three times a week” the fact he told you sent a holy bullet up on his pride, “I can’t explain” he went again.

“I-don’t-FUCKING-care” you accentuated every word, “Woah, what is going on here?” the one and the only Lucifer Morningstar came next to his daughter, wondering wat was taking her so long after she ran out.

“They know each other” Charlie waved her hand in between the two. “Lover’s spat?” he inquired mockingly, which you replied with a straightforward and cold “No” making the devil choke on some saliva, “Makes sense though, with a face like that” when Lucifer turned his eyes from Alastor to you he saw the end of your rifle, “First one is a dull, will hurt, the second a holy one, apologize” internally Lucifer applauded your bravery, so with a smile that reached his ears he uttered “I’m sorry Alastor, I didn’t meant to bring out the obvious”.

He made you smile, “Good enough” you put the rifle strap over your shoulder again, “I’m not going to apologize for that, by the way” he didn’t expected you to.

Alastor watched the scene with jealousy, as in less than two seconds of interaction you received Lucifer in a better way than him, you even smiled at him better than him. If he had a reason to be angry that was one. When you turned your head he noticed a burn on your neck, then he went down and saw the scars on your hands, maybe how many more marks you had on your body, experiences  that took away the innocent friend he used to have.

"You're thin, you don't eat enough or what? What happened to your teeth?" you started making questions that made Alastor sweat, “What is this Radio Demon shit? Who do you think you are, huh?" “Somone that will take you down if you keep at it” “Baby, we’re not at the same level, you are the lowest of the overlords”

“She’s right” “I haven’t lost a single soul in all these years, I can steal air from your lungs by just wanting it” he started feeling at loss of breath, his lungs compressed forcefully searching for oxygen, “I offered you my life, my time, my love” you straightened his bow tie, ignoring Charlie’s pleas for you to stop hurting him, “And you just kissed me, and early in the morning after, you took off, seven years without a single signal you were alive”.

“And now I find out that you’ve been here for five months already, not even once you tried to reach me” your hands palmed his chest slowly, your warmth poring through his clothes, “I have my territory delimited by a black line, if you cross it, I won’t be so nice as I am now” you hovered your lips over his, returning the air down his throat.

Lucifer whistled an impressed tune, “Y/n please, I can explain” he heard Alastor breathing rapidly, getting off Charlie’s support to try to get you, his knees stopping on their tracks due to the lack of strength left, “Y/n right? He looks like he wants to make things right, please give him a chance” she plead, it getting to your head very quickly, damn that puppy face.  

“Y/n please, tea and tea” he dared to say, bringing Lucifer’s attention, “What’s that?” he looked your way for an explanation, “It’s where we drink tea and talk” you thought about it for a second then looked at his eyes once more, “Someday, not today, you seem preoccupied” with that you took your leave, feeling your heart heavy and lonesome as you did.

It wasn’t until Extermination day, that from your balcony you saw the horde of angels drop on the hotel, immediately seeing the flow of Alastor’s dark magic being shattered by Adam. Almost out of instinct you ensembled your long distance sniper rifle, setting it on the edge of the rail, waiting for a perfect angle to make the winged rat fall.

 Suddenly Alastor few against the edge of the building, that’s when you shot, the bullet piercing the base of both of Adam’s wings, making him wince and drop against the ceiling in pain.

“Radio ain’t dead until I say so, asshole” you allowed wind to take your message, prepping another bullet in the chamber, aiming directly at his head, “Freaky face has a girlfriend?” he joked to pass a little of the pain, “Y/n?” Alastor whispered to himself, feeling the air shift around him, his body reappearing beside you after a swirl of air teleported him.

“When I get my hands on you-“ you didn’t let Adam finish, shooting the joint of his shoulder, leaving useless his dominant arm. “Y/n” that’s all Alastor could utter, seeing you so beautifully concentrated in your aim, “You think I’ll spoil it for Lucifer if I shoot him dead?” you gave Adam a warning shot on the leg, the next one being a holy one.

“Good riddance either way, mon coeur” he had carefully stood up, supporting his weight with a hand on the railing and another around your waist, “Oh never mind, six wings is beating the shit out of him now” you said a tad disappointed since your game ended, feeling Alastor hiss at his wound.

“Don’t touch it, let’s go, I’ll help” you sat him on your bed, helping him discard his clothes. “I’m sorry for leaving like that” he sounded so sad and weak, he was deeply angry at himself for how blind he was, for taking you for granted and abandoning you without explanations.

“It doesn’t matter anymore” you made haste to patch up the wound as best as you could, but there was so much blood blocking your way, “Y/n, please forgive me” he pleads as you try your best to stitch the would close, “Why do you care so much whether if I forgive you or not?” he cupped your face, a tenderness unknown for you, uncommon of him.

He wasn’t used to be gentle, not desiring to rip your flesh apart was new to him. Instead there was this fire that warmed him up from the tip of his ears to the tip of his hooves, “Because…I love you” that word felt right, as his hands  brought your hips closer to him, his thighs on each side of your knees, “The moment to say that, was seven years ago” you allowed your powers to wrapped his bandages in a perfect way, “I can make it up to you” he could think of a thousand ways to bring you back to him, unsure if in the way you were now, any of those would work, but he had the rest of eternity to find out.

“And who assures me that you won't disappear again? I felt so alone without you” his hands pulled down your hips, seating you on his leg, “Me, I promise you I’m not leaving you again, I can’t” you laughed, hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the thin layer of fur.

“Is it because now I’m powerful?” he didn’t expected you to think different of him, he couldn’t blame you, “No, because I cannot breathe without you, I missed you very much, mon amour” seven years of you in his mind, haunting him, missing the warm spot in his bed, refusing to sleep at all if it wasn’t with you.

“Please my love, my moon, my sun, my everything, let me rectify my wrongs” a chill it enveloped your entire body, “Or let your gun finish what you started” he reminded you of your set of words of earlier, his smile relaxed and lovely, “If you ever dare to abandon me again, I’ll prove that you in fact can die twice” your hissing at the last word made him sigh happily, then he moved to place a kiss on your cheek, inhaling your scent.

“You’re hurt” you whispered when his kiss traveled down to your neck, “I know, but I can bare it” you plead that he took a small time to rest, but he kept tightening his arm on your waist, then the other on the back of your neck.

When he licked the underside of your neck up to your chin, he suddenly winced, proving your point, “How about we try something else?” you saw him grin, he only did that when he had something on his head, “William found the bath a while ago” you saw the slippery friend crawl up the wall, a proud smile on his face.

“You sent him to draw a bath?” he chuckled, “I remembered it was something you fancied, the morning after us…” he remembered, you told him you wanted to wash his hair in the morning, but he left before even giving you an answer, “You know that means I’ll have to touch you?” his ears pinned down on his head so he could nuzzle against your neck, “Ever since that day, I’ve craved no one’s touch, just yours”.

His grin grew when he felt a certain movement against his forearm, “Damn thing” you cursed, “You’re not the only one” he was wagging his life off, he guided your hand to his lower back so you could feel him, “Sappy old man” you kissed his lips, “You’re not that younger than me” he continued the loving gesture, “The water will get cold” you heard the shadow groan thinking his efforts will go to waste.

“Let’s get to it then” you spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, Alastor nearly passed out when you were massaging his scalp with the lovely scented shampoo, you told him you were never going to stop bragging about it. Then when it was your turn to get pampered, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing your shoulders, the back of your neck, arms, every piece of skin he could.

His hands just as yours were free to roam around, both delighting in the ministrations, to the point only moans of satisfaction were echoing in the bathroom.

“Just so you know, if you have a significant other, he’s dead, you’re mine now” you giggled at his possessive nature, now both dry but still naked on the bed, “Good thing I ended that relationship months ago” you sassed him, earning a small bite on your clavicle, “As soon as I’m better, I’m claiming you” his eyes shifted to have dials, “Sure thing, you have a lot of pain to make up for, ya’ know?” he knew that.

There were parts of your body that were burnt, others covered by patches made of steel, then there were the cuts, the scars, the lashes, everything he acknowledged it was his fault, “This, are they dead?” you shook your head, “Then my broadcast will have new voices” his voice took a low tone and the growl made you feel butterflies, “Thank you” you whispered, lowering just enough so you could have your head under his chin, legs intertwined, arms holding each other as close as possible.

“This is going to sound weird, but I’m glad I killed you” he let out a breathy laugh, “Me too”.

[ddandelionfluff]

moonlit recollections | viktor x reader

modern-ish? au; fluff; no relationship established; it's my first time posting pls forgive any mistakes; englishmajor!reader; inspired by Astrophil and Stella Sonnet 71

***

Who will in fairest book of nature know

You knock on his door at two in the morning, startling him out of the coffee-fueled haze he had been in for the past few days. Your voice carries through the thin door, asking if he was still awake. Joints creaking, Viktor pulls himself out of his desk, self-consciously smoothing out his too-wrinkled shirt and running his hands through his too-long hair as he opens the door, stopping quickly. The inside of his dorm is a mess, and if you saw it, you’d probably start trying to help him clean.  

He draws a breath as you look at him and laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling as they trace his hair.

“You look rough.” An admonishment.

He shrugs.

“I have an exam tomorrow,” An apology.

“Which is why I’m here,” You say by way of explanation, which does not actually explain anything.

His brows furrow as he leans against the frame, taking some pressure off his leg. “I do not understand. We did not have a study session planned today.”

And even if you did, it wouldn’t have been at two in the morning.

You laugh again, a short, incredulous sound, and Viktor wishes he was funnier so he could be credited for it more often.

“No, genius, I’m here to get you to take a break. Also, you did miss our last session, so you owe me.”

How virtue may best lodged in beauty be

So here he was, following you through the dark university buildings as you, for the lack of a better word, broke into the arts lounge.

“It’s not breaking in if I’ve got the keys,” You justify, keys jingling in your hands. Viktor studies you as you fiddle with them, your face scrunched and tongue poking through your lips in concentration. You hadn’t taken off the lip oil you usually wore for moisture, and it glittered under the flashlight’s scrutiny.

“Hmm?” He says, realizing that you had said something, and that you were standing.

“Is the sleep deprivation getting to you, Viktor?” You tilt your head, eyes roving over his face, searching for the obvious signs of exhaustion painting his features. The purple under his eyes, drawing his face in even harsher lines, the line of tension between his brows. The way his features tended to draw into themselves like a plant unwatered. He watches you watch him, tracing your lips, touchless, trying to remember a word that wasn’t your name.

“I think it is,” He admits softly, afraid of letting you catch onto him.

You smile, hands finding the doorknob and twisting. You leaves the lights off, navigating through memory and the stray light of streetlamps streaming in. Viktor stumbles behind you, feeling his way through clumsily.

The doors to the balcony had been left open, a major oversight you grumble about as you slide them open. The air is chilly, making you shiver as it slithers past the warmth of your sweater. His sweater, Viktor notices. He had lent it to you a week ago, at your last session.

 Let him but learn of love to read in thee,

You had shown up to the library soaked through, the rain outside painting the world gray with its weeping. You tried to hide the shivering, but it was clear in the way you clenched your teeth, body drawn together with tension as you laughed off his concern.

“I don’t need my sweater, go change in the bathroom,” He had offered, both pitiful and exasperated at your lack of planning. With a sheepish smile, you had accepted the help, promising to return it as soon as possible.

Sunk into worn leather couches warmed by the nearby fireplace, you’d almost disappeared under the wool. As your hands danced across the page of the textbook in your lap, underlining and annotating the poem as you explained the basics of close-reading, Viktor couldn’t help but notice how you halted to push the sleeves up now and then as they got in the way.

It was supposed to be an easy class, but as of late, it had been taking up more time than his core courses. Not that Viktor could be bothered. You two had been in the library for hours now, on the couches near the fireplace—a frequent haunt. It was the best place to curl up with your anthologies in your laps, the lack of tables allowing  forcing Viktor to lean closer to see what you were pointing at, and—unbeknownst to him, for you to sit so your thigh would press up against his. Though he wasn’t aware of your design, he was plenty aware of the electricity firing up his nerves, even when the warmth of the fire threatened to drag him under.

He yawned, confused. Not only because he couldn’t make sense of your explanation or the sonnet itself, but also because he wasn’t used to the extreme bouts of fatigue that overtook him around you. It must be the literature, he had thought to himself, the words were literally putting him to sleep.

Stella, those fair lines which true goodness show.

“Tired?” You’d asked, sounding equally exhausted and perhaps a little hopeful. But Viktor had shaken his head—he’d needed to get through it that night, for the test was less than twenty-four hours away. The first one, his chance to set a standard for himself and to make an impression.

“Confused. I still do not understand what this last line adds to the poem. It is so…” Viktor had sighed, mouthing the line. “…random.”

“Well,” You’d started, tucking away a stray strand of hair. “If you look at the rest of the sonnet, Astrophil has been focusing on the virtuous parts of his love for Stella, basing it in admiration of her character and beauty from this very pure, respectful perspective. Almost like he was worshipping a deity rather than, I don’t know, loving a person. Keeping that in mind, what do you think the sudden interjection of desire might mean?”

Even half-asleep, you made the perfect teacher. Viktor wondered if he was making you question your decision to be an educator with his idiocy. Mulling over your words, he’d tried to formulate a response that would please you.

There shall he find all vices' overthrow,

That was the most difficult part of this subject—finding an appropriate answer. In his field, there was only ever one. But here? It felt like he was shooting in the dark, randomly putting together semblances of analysis in hopes of making the puzzle fit. It frustrated him.

“Hm,”—is what came out. Sighing, he’d tried again.

“Well, desire in this case would refer to a…carnal feeling, would it not?” The word was awkward against his tongue as he’d looked to you for approval, lighting up slightly when you nodded. Congratulations, you absolute genius, you remembered a basic definition, he thought sarcastically. It was a clear testament to his skills that even such a rudimentary recollection made you happy.

“Desire expresses, well, a desire for sustenance,” He’d continued. “So, it is being starved by the virtue of Astrophil’s love for Stella, then? Is that it?”

You smiled, teeth peeking out from behind your gloss-painted lips. “That is one interpretation, and a pretty good one at that.” Then, you’d paused, leaving Viktor confused again. A good interpretation did not mean the best one.

Not by rude force, but sweetest sovereignty

“Some might say that it’s a reminder that any true love can’t just be focused on virtue and purity, but also needs to encompass more carnal, ‘lowly’ aspects to be complete.” You explained, noticing his look. “But it really doesn’t matter what interpretation you argue for, as long as you have a strong argument.”

“But which is the better answer?” Viktor had asked incredulously, a hand threading through his hair.  

You laughed lightly. “There isn’t one, I suppose. Just whatever you can argue for.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.” He said with finality.

You shrugged as you scribbled down the analysis in his margins, leaning over so your hair was too close to Viktor’s face. He drew in a sharp breath, smelling the fresh scent of your shampoo.

“It’s just an exercise in close-reading, Viktor. The entire point is to discover the poem,”—you’d punctuated this statement with a flourish of your hand, rings glinting—"not to tie it up and beat it until it gives you the ‘right’ answer.”

Your voice had taken on that trademark gentleness, the tone it always took when you talked about anything you loved. Poetry, your favourite book, even a particularly good cup of coffee. It made Viktor’s chest ache, like it was pulling into itself, trying to shy away from you. He wondered if you could ever talk about him in that tone.

He’d been silent too long, eyes resting on your face absentmindedly. You laughed, snapping your fingers in front of him. He startled, sheepish. You’d been talking.

“Wanna call it a night?” You’d asked, shifting to face him properly, knees still tucked under your thighs.

Viktor had shaken his head. “No, I still do not feel entirely confident about this test,”

“Relax, Viktor, it’s only worth four points. Have fun with it,” You yawned, leaning your head against the couch, right beside his shoulder.

He’d mimicked you, leaning his head back to relieve the ache in his neck. “I would have thought that our semester-long acquaintance would have shown you how impossible that is.”

You had shrugged, blinking slowly. “Worth a try,”

Silence was a blanket over the two of you, your eyes shut lightly while Viktor tried to draw his away. He’d dreaded the end of this quiet, when you inevitably opened your eyes and sighed, a complaint about how you still had to go home and make dinner slipping from your lips. And Viktor had, once again, been too afraid to betray himself, to ask if you wanted to come over for dinner, to punctuate that question with the fact that his place was closer anyway. Instead, he’d stolen glances as you packed up, stopped you from returning his sweater, assuring you he’d just take it later.  

Of reason, from whose light those night-birds fly;

“Do you remember when we first met? You looked exactly like how you do right now,” On the balcony, you pull him out of his thoughts, leaning against the railing. He steps forward to join you, the cold metal a welcome shock compared to the nearly uncomfortable warmth your presence inspired in him.

“Are you trying to tell me I look horrible?” He replies flatly.

You shrug, smiling. “Maybe,”

He laughs, swallowing the faint bitter taste of self consciousness as he takes his place beside you.

That inward sun in thine eyes shineth so.

He’d been late on the first day, having to brace far too many stairs for his liking. The night before had been spent sleepless with pain in his leg, and the stairs that morning only made it worse. The only seat left was beside you, in the second row of all places. Cane thumping embarrassingly as the professor paused, Viktor had dropped beside you, trying his best not to disturb your arm as he settled in. The old hall, tucked away in the windowless basement of the Arts department, had creaky chairs and tiny pull-out desks, quite different from the state-of-the-art labs Viktor was used to. Despite his best efforts, his arm bumped against yours as he brought out his notebook.

You’d startled slightly, throwing him a small smile as he muttered a hasty apology. He began trying to decipher the page number by looking at your book, half-hidden by the arm you rested your head on. Unfortunately, you’d noticed that too. With another kind smile, you’d reached over and turned the book to the right page, pointing to the exact sonnet being discussed.

Though he thanked you, the lecture still flew over his head.

He could feel your eyes on him as you put your things away extra slowly, as if to match his pace in an attempt to not embarrass him further. If so, it didn’t work. He’d been painfully aware of the delay he was causing.

 “Are you in this faculty?” You’d asked as Viktor stood up. He was a deer caught in headlights as you swung your bag onto your shoulder.

“No, this class is, eh, a required option,” He’d said, feeling the paradox of the category.

“Really? The engineering students usually take the lower-level literature courses.”

“How do you know I’m in engineering?” Viktor had asked. Being easily discerned didn’t sound like a good thing.

You’d laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s only because I know most of the literature students, we’re a pretty small group.”

“Fair, but I could be in maths, or biology,” He’d titled his head. Around him, new students had started piling into the room. The two of you had been standing here for a while now.

“Well, you smell like motor oil and formaldehyde, so I think I got it half right.” You’d winked, stepping past him. You smelled like jasmine and books.  “I’ll see you around?”

And, not content to be perfection's heir,

And you had seen him around. The next lecture, you’d grabbed a seat closer to the entrance, saving the one beside you for him. He saw you as soon he entered, drawn to familiarity. Stopping just a step away, he noticed the bag, self-consciousness seeping in for a second as he wondered if he wasn’t as welcome as your last conversation had led him to believe. Perhaps that was just politeness, to help him save face? He had taken up a lot of your time.

Somewhere in the middle of his internal conflict, you had looked up from your book.

“Oh, hi, I saved you a seat!” You’d said cheerfully, a hint of tension in your smile. Later, you would tell him you were afraid to come off as too eager to be his friend. He found it unbelievable that someone could be embarrassed of wanting to be kind.

Viktor had never been so grateful for both his inability to decipher literature or his disability than the effect it had on his friendship with you. After the egregiously long reading list was distributed, you’d turned to him:

“I was thinking of going to get the books after class, do you want to come with? There’s quite a lot of them, so it would be easier for us to carry them together.”

Only when you were walking back to his dorm did he realize that in his eagerness to form an acquaintance, he had skipped over something quite obvious.

“You do not need help carrying these,” He said, slightly accusatory.  In one arm he carried a tower of half of the total required books, and, he realized again, only the thinnest ones.

 “Well, I didn’t want to come off as patronizing by asking you if you needed help,” You said, voice strained. From embarrassment or the effort, he could not tell. “Besides, my reasoning was so half-assed, I thought you saw through it.”

Viktor’s annoyance had only lasted a second before he noticed the breathlessness in your voice, no doubt from carrying almost double the weight you’d have to if you’d bought only your own books.

“Well then, I think I owe you for this,” He’d said, trying to keep his voice even. The truth was, even with you taking on so much of the burden, his arms and legs ached. There was no way he could’ve made it all the way back without your help. “Thank you.”

Now, you were definitely embarrassed. “You don’t have to thank me, any friend would do the same.”

Friend. He had other friends, but Viktor had still warmed at the fact that you’d decided his company was worth pursuing.

Thyself, dost strive all minds that way to move,

Now, here you were, a semester’s worth of study sessions and late-night talks later, still finding each other’s company worthy. Even as you stood silently, admiring the city’s skyline, basking in the presence of the other wordlessly.

“I must apologize,” Viktor begins suddenly. You shoot him a quizzical look but let him continue.

“For missing our last session,” He explains. Now your lips part, but Viktor continues. “No matter how busy I had been, I should’ve let you know I couldn’t make it. But I had just returned from an exam after two sleepless nights and fell asleep despite myself.”

You turn towards him, concern drawing your eyebrows together. “Viktor, why would you need to apologize for getting sleep? Speaking of which, why are you depriving yourself of rest?”

“I need to study, you know how it is,” He waves a dismissive hand, trying not to get anxious over the fact that he was currently wasting time.

“I must admit, I do not know how it is,” You reply. It was true, Viktor had noticed the delicate balance you struck in your own life, somehow always finding the time to socialize and keep yourself healthy without failing all your courses. Though you always said it was because your degree was easier, Viktor didn’t believe it.

“Unfortunately,” He sighs exaggeratedly, “we cannot all be gods of excellent time management.”

You laugh. “Not time management, just an easier program,”

Viktor shakes his head. “After taking just one of the courses that make up your schedule, I must disagree. I would have failed without you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, sure, Vik.”

The nickname makes his heart stutter, even though you’d used it a thousand times. The lack of sleep truly was getting to him. In the silence that followed (because he couldn’t think of how to continue), you sigh.

“What’s the end for you, Vik?” You ask, looking at him sideways. “What’s the point of all this—the sleepless nights, the skipped meals, the self abandonment?”

The question was uncharacteristically heavy, and he wonders for a moment if he should inquire after you. But then again, it was half-past two and you were here, with him, instead of getting the minimum eight hours of rest you subscribed to, so perhaps that was a non-question.

Instead, he ponders the question you’d asked, mulling the words over in his mouth before speaking. He hadn’t really vocalized it before. “Well, I want to help people, I suppose. Help them and be remembered for it.”

You hum in understanding, expecting him to continue. And he does.

“I suppose I’ve felt…invisible. For most of my life, that is. Most people were embarrassed of looking at me, and the universe itself seemed to be telling me that I didn’t matter. So I made myself matter. Became the smartest in the room, the most accomplished, excelling intellectually so that no one had a chance to notice anything else.”

“Did it work?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“I…do not know,” He admits, laughing slightly. “The recognition, the awards, the opportunities—they help, but the attention only lasts a few minutes, and it’s always…incomplete.”

“How so?”

He hesitates slightly, scared of the words about to leave him. “People don’t see all of you, I suppose. Just your mind, and your work. They still shy away from all the parts of you that don’t fit in,” He motions towards the cane still clutched in his hand, and the leg that now ached tenfold.

You hum in understanding, your eyes now finding his. “Like people only value you for what you can do, rather than who you are.”

“Exactly.” For a moment, Viktor is in awe of your ability to understand people, before he notices the tension in your shoulders and the tight way you’d said those words.

“What about you?” He asks. “What do you hope to achieve from all this?” 

Who mark in thee what is in thee most fair.

You take a breath, exhaling deeply as you look around. “Same as you, I suppose.”

“I was referring specifically to all this,” He waves a hand, gesticulating to your surroundings. “Taking care of so many people, in so many small ways. It must add up. It must take time away from studying, from actually working towards your goals.”

You laugh, but it’s more of a formality than genuine mirth. “I don’t really have big goals like you, a need to be remembered in history for doing something great. I don’t care about a classroom of kids studying history decades in the future, I care about my siblings remembering me the moment they’re, I don’t know, illegally drunk and have no ride. I want to love and be loved now, in the immediate. Screw legacy, or whatever,”

 Somewhere during your brief monologue, the fire behind your eyes had started blazing again. The traitorous ally that was the air in his lungs betrays him, as it usually does around you, but Viktor wouldn’t be surprised if he could just survive on the sight of you alone. Your shoulders tense, face taught, defenses raised, a vestige of having to defend your choices and your life from those who could never truly understand you. As much as he wished to reach out, ease the tension holding you tight, it was exhilarating to witness—the ferocity that inspired your love.

“What?” Your eyes meet his, finally, after roving everywhere else for the past few minutes. He realizes he’s been staring too long, too quietly. Licking his lips, coming up empty for words. Woops.

“Is there something on my face?”

A shake of the head. “No, no. You’re fine,”

“Alright,” You say, suspicious. “You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?”

“Of course not!” Viktor scrambles to correct you. “I was just…at a loss for words.”

“Whatever you say, Vikkie-boy,” You sigh, faking exasperation.

Viktor cringes at the nickname, which was novel.  “Please never use that term again.”

You pout, a teasing glint in your eye as you lean towards him. “Aw, you don’t like my new pet name?”

“Yes,” Viktor replies, deadpan. Partially because he cannot, with any self-respect, entertain such a monstrous butchering of his name, and because you were entirely too close to him. Close enough that he can see the pores in your skin and the pupils of your eyes, and the glittering liquid in your waterline.

So while thy beauty draws thy heart to love,

He catches the exact moment you notice it too, the proximity. Your gaze flits somewhere lower, and though he would like to flatter himself, Viktor resists the thought that comes. He hears your breath falter, tripping before correcting itself, your lips parted slightly.

Another thought, loud and overwhelming. Much harder to resist. Much harder to think past. So he doesn’t—think, that is. Doesn’t speak. Lets the silence and your confusion stretch on for a few more moments as he takes you in.

“You’re acting a bit strange,” You say, voice and eyes low. It sounds divine.  He could listen to it all night. “You wanna go to bed?”  

As fast thy virtue bends that love to good:

Viktor shakes his head. There’s never been anything he was surer of. Perhaps he should feel a bit guilty that through your profession of your morals, your defense of your values, he could only think of stepping closer to you. Of taking your breath away. Of, perhaps, taking care of you, for once. Repay you for all your favours. Perhaps he should feel guilty that instead of engaging with you intellectually, he could only think of softness, in your hair, your lips, your skin. But then again—

He recalls dimly the poem that started this all, its lines blurring past him to the beat of his own heart.

But "Ah," Desire still cries, "Give me some food!"

He could do it. Step closer, quiet the tidal waves in his mind that left him so mute. There was a ninety-five percent chance you wouldn’t mind, a similar chance you would enjoy it.

It wouldn’t feel like a forest fire, he could imagine that much. A hearth, perhaps. Steady and warm and comforting, the warm space between your lips where your breath mingles with his—peppermint and coffee, the taste of the chocolate you’d been nibbling before a palimpsest he could trace with his tongue.

He could do it.

Could he?

[cardinal-crossing]

More Polar Express doodles! I've left some notes under the cut if you would like to read, it's mostly notes about the story of the Polar Express and how these two fit in, but nothing extensive. (Probably for the best, I don't think it would be coherent if I went any further.)

ALSO POLAR EXPRESS SPOILERS BELOW!!

All right, I have some thoughts about this movie. I enjoyed watching it for the first time and got so excited that I watched the film again. While watching, I immediately picked out characters to put the subway twins as because I am so normal, and here is a little explanation. To start, in my head, all the characters that run the train are spirits or ghosts, much like how the Hobo is portrayed. While the other characters are not as prominent, there are a few hints here and there that point to such. For example, in the Glaciar Glutch scene, the conductor doesn't wrap the safety belt around himself; he only wraps it around the two kids. That at least points to the fact that he may be a spirit, as he doesn't have as much care for his person. Furthermore, he is on a magic train and has been doing it for years; he's a spirit. I'm sorry, but he is. So I chose Ingo as the conductor because, in the movie, the conductor rarely smiles; he also cares a lot about the kids, as shown by his body language. Also, in my mind, the conductor was very hard to read, but that may also be caused by the fact that the expressions were very realistic in this movie (I suspect motion capture), and I have a hard time reading facial expressions. Now, Emmet is the funnier one. I chose Emmet as the Hobo because of my personal headcanon that Emmet has the crazy uncle energy rather than the more fatherly energy. The Hobo within the movie also smiles a lot, almost constantly, and is just generally chaotic. Instead of outwardly telling the kids what to do and what not to do, he instead scares the crap out of them to teach them a lesson and further their adventure throughout the movie. He also only chooses to help in the most dire of times and in the most ridiculous way possible; think of skiing on the top of the train and tapping the emergency brake on the caboose. He makes a pun instead of just telling the main character that there is a brake, and then he poofs back out of existence. Also, the conductor clearly knows that the Hobo exists, as he alludes to it in the movie when the main character asks what the man who saved the conductor looked like. The conductor only responded, "Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can't see." That has been my ramble, and I apologize if none of this made sense; I've been up since four this morning running off of straight caffeine, and I've been all over the place.

[full-sunnies]

Of Flowers and Fish (Part 1/2)

Pairing: flower shop owner!Soobin x siren!Reader

Genre: fluff, crack, angst

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: You didn't know it was possible to fall in love with someone human.

Warnings: one mention of vore, portrayal of sirens might not be accurate to mythology, some cliche lines, author uses the story to project on her own issues, pls tell me if i missed smth

Notes: afab reader, short reader (although only mentioned once), reader has long hair and shark teeth, story takes place in the province, i apologize in advance if some of the scenes are weird they were just way funnier in my head 😭

Part 2

For Duckie, whose moments I will treasure forever. And for Luna, who asked to be a part of the story OSNFJDKSK.

Cutting flowers, arranging them artfully, jotting down finances, repeat. It was clear Soobin loved his work, even with its daily repetition. How could anyone not feel happy surrounded by these sweet-smelling pretty things and basking in the gentle warmth of the morning sun? Watching customers breathe in the flowers’ fragrance with bliss or light up with joy as they received their bouquets brought him a unique sense of fulfillment no other job could give.

Cutting flowers, arranging them artfully, jotting down finances, repeat. It was clear Soobin loved his work, even with its daily repetition. How could anyone not feel happy surrounded by these sweet-smelling pretty things and basking in the gentle warmth of the morning sun? Watching customers breathe in the flowers’ fragrance with bliss or light up with joy as they received their bouquets brought him a unique sense of fulfillment no other job could give.

Soobin’s little boutique was an instant hit. On his first day, he sold out of flowers within just two hours. It was a lesson learned. Afterward, he stocked up on more flowers and hired Beomgyu, an additional hand.

It was another busy day for them in the shop. Running around all day with custom bouquets in their hands, politely answering the flocks of girls that would coquettishly giggle at them—it was a lot to do even for young men like them. Who would have guessed so many flowers could sell in such a small area?

Soobin sighed as he flipped the sign on the shop’s door to “Closed.” He had let Beomgyu leave early, feeling sorry for him after being swarmed all day. Though Beomgyu initially protested, Soobin insisted he could handle closing up on his own. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. 5:53 PM. The sun usually sets around this time of the year.

I really am lucky to have a view like this for work, he thought to himself as he looked over the rocky shore where his little boutique resided.

Wait. Why is there a girl sitting in the open ocean at this time? And on that sharp ass rock?

He squinted at the girl as he closed the shop, going down to the sea afterwards to take a closer look.

What the fuck does she think she’s doing?

Maybe she’s having an emo moment, his mind replied.

Should I just leave her be then? He stopped walking.

What? No! And if she dies of hypothermia? What will you do then?

Drawn by the sound of the girl’s singing, Soobin found himself moving closer, unable to resist. It was as if he had become a puppet, helplessly pulled toward its master. His thoughts blurred as he waded into the sea, his clothes clinging to his skin as the icy water rose to his chest. His hydrophobia screamed for him to stop, and the cold sent shivers through his body, but he couldn’t fight the compulsion to reach the source of that angelic voice.

When he finally reached the rock, he saw her. The creature behind the enchanting melody. The one with the long, majestic hair and a face that was probably even more beautiful.

You.

You stopped humming and turned, sensing someone behind you. Soobin froze when your eyes met. You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, so why were alarm bells going off in his head?

Despite the unease creeping up his spine, he took a hesitant step closer as you silently observed him.

And smiled.

His eyes widened in shock as he noticed your sharp, spiky teeth.

What the actual fuck is THAT? What kind of dentist allowed this monstrosity? Leaving ASAP. Don’t care how pretty she is. She’s probably insane.

But it was the sight of your tail that really did it. Without another thought, Soobin spun on his heels and bolted for the shore. Which was kinda stupid. He never had a chance of outrunning you.

Effortlessly, you leaped off your rock and caught him, spinning him around as he flailed wildly in your grasp. The sight of a grown man squealing, gasping, and thrashing, all while being held firmly by a small girl like you, was nothing short of comical. Hilarious, even.

“You scream like a little girl,” you teased.

“And you… talk like a… human?” Soobin panted.

Both of you froze for a moment, confusion hanging in the air. Soobin’s fear of the water momentarily evaporated, replaced by sheer bewilderment.

“Well, yeah,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “How else am I supposed to lure people to their deaths if I can’t talk?”

“With your voice? I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting a conversation with my would-be killer!” Soobin exclaimed. His eyes widened as he tried to take a step back. “Wait, are you going to eat me?”

You tilted your head, intrigued by the nervous boy standing before you. “You know what?” you said, grinning. “You’re pretty cute. I’m keeping you.”

“In a cage?” Soobin stammered, his face pale. “Please don’t,” he pleaded, his voice rising in panic. “I have friends… and a loving family… and hopes and dreams!”

Your grin widened as you pulled him closer, letting your sharp teeth flash in front of his face. He flailed helplessly, his long limbs flopping like a fish trying to escape.

“I still have my whole life ahead of me!” he cried desperately. “I haven’t even lost my virginity yet!” His voice cracked dramatically at the end, making you burst into laughter.

The sound of your laughter was so magnificent, so mesmerizing, that Soobin momentarily forgot the peril he was in. He could die right now and he would've still been grateful that he was even able to hear a sound as awe-inspiring as your voice.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, finally catching your breath. “I wasn’t going to keep you in a cage, dumbass. I meant I was going to keep you alive.”

“Oh.” Soobin blinked, relief washing over his face as he clutched his chest. “Oh, thank God.”

I wouldn’t have minded if she ate me out, though, Soobin thought before his brain betrayed him.

Pervert, his inner voice snapped. You’re literally admitting you’re into vore.

She‘s stunning! How the hell am I supposed to react?!

Simp.

“Look, I need to go,” you interrupted his spiraling thoughts, gripping his collar tightly. “I’m hungry, and I need to find something to eat. Don’t you dare tell anyone about me,” you hissed, your voice dangerously low. “Understood?”

“U-Understood!” Soobin nodded so hard he almost gave himself whiplash. “I’ll keep this a secret! I swear on my life!”

“Good.”

You let go of him with a small smile, turning to leave. But before you could disappear back into the water, his voice stopped you.

“Wait!”

You paused, glancing back.

“W-Will we see each other again?” His voice was shaky but sincere.

The question caught you off guard. Why would he even want to see you again? You didn’t know how to respond, so instead, you dove back into the sea, vanishing without another word.

By the time your conversation ended, the sun had set, leaving the water inky black. Yet as Soobin trudged back to shore, he strangely felt no fear, knowing that you were somewhere there in the sea with him.

Soobin didn’t visit the shore for an entire week, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at it during every free moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Little did he know, you were doing the same—lingering just beneath the surface, wishing he’d come back as you (obviously) couldn’t go on land. Neither of you fully understood why, but the urge to see the other again gnawed at you both.

Soobin found himself daydreaming about your unexpected kindness, while you pondered why you’d decided to spare him. What made him so special? Was it his wimpy demeanor that screamed harmlessness? Or was it the way his eyes sparkled with hope when he asked if you’d meet again?

Eventually, impatience got the better of you. One evening, as the sun painted the horizon gold, you swam closer to the shore, letting your tail breach the water’s surface in a playful display. It didn’t take long for Soobin to spot the shimmering movement. His heart leapt as he immediately ran to his shop to arrange a bouquet for you.

In his rush, he grabbed every flower in sight but quickly panicked. What if she doesn’t even like flowers? He wanted to give you something while not being overwhelming. As he darted around the shop, his eyes landed on a cluster of daisies in the corner.

Perfect.

He plucked the liveliest daisy from the bunch and bolted down to the beach, barely noticing the seawater soaking his clothes and shoes. Seeing you perched near the waves, watching the sunset, made every step worth it.

You turned at the sound of his approach but stayed still, so Soobin decided to take the initiative. It was only his second time seeing you, but he already felt like the main character running in slow motion towards his lover with the sunset in the background. He bravely marched towards you and put on his rizz face, combing his hair back thinking to himself that he was the hot shit—

He tripped on a stray rock and fell down face first. 

The water was barely up to his waist, but he was already drowning. 

And you were at the side, biting your lip in an attempt not to laugh as you looked on, but it was no use. Watching this grown man nearly dying in water he could easily stand in, all while trying to recover his “cool” facade, was too much. You took pity on him a minute after, helping him stand upright again. He coughed and sputtered, pounding his chest to expel the last of the water, all while avoiding your gaze out of sheer shame.

When he finally composed himself, he smoothed his hair back again, as if nothing had happened. “Come on,” he said, motioning to the shallows. “Let’s sit for a while.”

You stared at him, absolutely baffled by his ability to act like the most humiliating moment of his life hadn’t just occurred, but you followed him anyway.

“I brought something for you,” he said when you both settled down.

He presented an object you didn’t recognize. His eyes were signaling for you to take it, so you clasped it as gently as you could and tilted your head in curiosity.

“What's this?”

“A flower.”

“A flounder?”

“No, a flower.”

“… Flower,” you said slowly, rolling the unfamiliar word over your tongue as if savoring it. Despite your long life, you’d never encountered a flower before. You turned it this way and that, marveling at its delicate form, though you weren’t quite sure what to do with it.

And so without any hesitation, you bit off a few petals.

Soobin’s eyes widened, and he stuttered, trying to form words. But the shock of what he just witnessed left him speechless.

You spat the petals out immediately, your face twisting in disgust. “Tastes like shit.”

“You’re not supposed to eat it,” Soobin said, his voice high with disbelief.

“I wasn’t?” Now it was your turn to feel embarrassed.

“No! You’re only supposed to smell it… or look at it.”

“Oh.”

A long, awkward silence fell between you as you both stared at what remained of the poor daisy. The chewed petals, now flaccid from the seawater, floated pitifully between you.

Soobin cleared his throat, desperate to break the tension. “There are, uh, lots of different flowers,” he said, grasping for a distraction. “Each one has its own meaning.”

“What does this one mean?” you asked, holding up the mangled stem.

“This flower is called a daisy. It represents purity and innocence, but in some parts of the world, it also means…” He trailed off, his ears burning bright red.

“It means?” you prompted, curiosity gleaming in your eyes.

“First love,” he mumbled, barely audible.

“Oh.” You tilted your head, your expression thoughtful. “I wonder what that feels like.”

Soobin blinked, turning to you in surprise. “You’ve never fallen in love before?”

You shook your head, and for some reason, his heart sank. Did that mean you’d never felt the thrill of butterflies in your stomach? Could creatures like you even feel love, or had you simply chosen solitude?

The thought of either option made Soobin’s chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.

“It looked pretty though,” you said, your voice soft with regret. “At least before I massacred it.”

A surge of excitement rushed through him at the thought of you liking his gift, even if it didn’t survive. Soobin straightened up, eager to offer something more. “I own a flower shop nearby. I can get you another one if you like it.”

You smiled sadly and shook your head. “I can’t keep it or it’ll just wilt in the ocean.” You gestured at the petals you had spat out as an example.

“I can always give you another one when you come back. That way, you can keep it for as long as possible.”

Your eyes lit up, and the childlike innocence in them made Soobin’s heart skip a beat. “You’d do that for me?”

Soobin felt his chest tighten as he gazed into your eyes. 

Maybe it’s too soon to say this, but I think I’d do anything for you.

But he never says those words out loud. Instead, he swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside, and nodded. “Of course. It’s easy to do.”

“Thank you.”

Soobin hated eye contact, but he couldn’t look away as you smiled at him. 

She’s actually kinda cute… As long as you cover those nasty-ass teeth, he thought.

“So, you’re not gonna eat me?” he joked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“No,” you replied, eyes narrowing playfully. “But I’ll have to kill you.”

Soobin froze, his heart racing. He scanned the area frantically, trying to find an escape route, but before he could make a move, you poked him lightly.

The sudden contact sent him tumbling backwards into the water. He scrambled to his feet, his pulse pounding before a surge of defiance took over him. With unexpected force, he splashed seawater at you in an attempt to defend himself.

For a breathless moment, you both locked eyes across the shimmering divide of water, as he finally realized you had been messing with him all along.

And slowly, the tension between you two ebbed away, like the tide retreating from the shore.

The two of you didn’t cross paths again for another week. It wasn’t because of busyness, but rather a mutual shyness that kept you apart. Both of you, silently wanting to see each other, but unsure of how to make the first move.

One evening, as Soobin and Beomgyu were closing up the shop, Soobin suddenly spoke up.

“Gyu,” Soobin said, stuffing some of the shop’s things into his bag. “Do you think sirens exist?”

Beomgyu looked up in confusion. “You mean the ones in the water?”

“Yeah.”

Beomgyu chuckled. “You’ve been reading too many conspiracy theories. You should get out more. You know, touch some grass, hug a tree… Maybe get a girlfriend instead of staying locked in your room playing League.” He slapped Soobin on the back with a grin.

Soobin was taken aback, his thoughts momentarily clouded. “You’ll never know. The ocean is so deep, we haven’t even—” His words trailed off as his eyes caught sight of you waving at him from the shore.

He quickly turned to Beomgyu. “You can leave early. I’ll close up by myself.”

Beomgyu whined but was quickly pushed out of the shop, still protesting as Soobin hurried to get ready.

Is she crazy? How does she expect her existence to be kept a secret if she just exposes herself like that? Soobin thought, his heart racing as he jogged down to the shore, making sure no one else was around. The sun bathed you in a golden glow, casting a halo around your figure that made you look like a goddess from another realm. The sight left him breathless, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty you radiated.

He took a deep breath and, gathering all his courage, sat down beside you.

You blushed slightly at the sight of him, then grinned. “Since you gave me a flower last time, I thought I’d give you a fish.”

Soobin’s eyes widened in curiosity. 

What is she giving me? Alaskan salmon? Bluefin tuna? King crab? Glass eel?

Before he could make sense of it, he screamed as you tossed a clownfish onto a rock.

“Ahh! What did you do to poor Nemo?!” Soobin exclaimed, staring at the poor fish flapping around in distress.

“Nemo? I thought people called it a clownfish,” you said, a bit puzzled.

The fish struggled for a few moments, then went still. You tossed the dead fish back into the sea as Soobin gaped, unable to process the absurdity of the situation. You shrugged, unbothered. “It’ll be eaten up by the other fish anyway.”

Soobin stared at the fish carcass as it sank, feeling a strange sense of disbelief.

“So why did you call it Nemo?” you asked, turning to him.

He blinked, then explained the plot of Finding Nemo to you. You listened with amusement, teasing him when you realized how absurd it was to name a fish “Nemo” when it wasn’t even alive anymore. “But you’re right, though. It kinda looks like him. And you too. Flapping around like you did when we first met,” you teased.

Soobin flushed at the memory. He had acted like a complete fool when you caught him earlier.

The conversation eventually turned more serious as the hours passed by. You told Soobin about how sirens were often poached by hunters for their scales, and how, because of that, sirens despised humans with all their hearts. Soobin listened quietly, realizing how much history you had with humans—tragic, unfair, and full of pain.

In return, Soobin tried to explain concepts like capitalism, cars, the alphabet—but every time he saw your brow furrow in confusion, he would quickly switch back to discussing flowers to simplify things. He didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much information.

It felt so easy with you, even when the topics were strange. With each exchange, he found himself more captivated, not just by your otherworldly beauty, but by the unexpected connection that was growing between you.

You two never stopped learning about each other’s worlds. One lazy afternoon, Soobin showed up at the shore with a determined look on his face and a giant bag slung over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” you asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously.

“Supplies,” he said cryptically, dropping the bag onto the sand with a loud thud.

“…Supplies for what?”

“I’m teaching you how to play volleyball!”

You blinked, completely thrown off. “What the hell is volleyball?”

He gasped, clutching his chest like you had just personally insulted him. “You don’t know volleyball? What do you sirens even do all day?”

“Um… not throw things at each other for fun?” you retorted.

“Well, you’re missing out,” he said, pulling out a battered volleyball and a makeshift net. “Today’s your lucky day. Coach Soobin is here to teach you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Coach Soobin? You can barely walk without tripping over yourself.”

“Rude,” he said, as he struggled to set up the net between two rocks. The net was lopsided and sagging by the time he finished, but he stood back proudly like it was a masterpiece. “Okay, we’re ready.”

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “And how am I supposed to play this… whatever-ball game? I don’t even have legs.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” he said confidently. Then, with absolutely no warning, he chucked the volleyball straight at you.

It smacked into your face with a loud thwack.

You sat there in stunned silence, the ball floating beside you, while Soobin froze, his eyes wide with horror.

“…Did you just throw that at my face?” you asked slowly, your voice dangerously calm.

“I-I didn’t mean to! I thought you’d catch it!” he stammered, backing away.

“With what, Soobin? My fins?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, looking genuinely apologetic now.

You stared at him for a moment, then grabbed the volleyball and hurled it back at him with all the strength you could muster. It hit him square in the chest, and he stumbled backward, landing flat on his back in the sand.

“Ow!” he groaned, clutching his chest. “Okay, okay, I deserved that.”

“You deserved worse,” you said, smirking. “Maybe I should summon a shark to help me ‘practice.’”

“Please don’t,” he begged, sitting up and brushing sand out of his hair.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic he looked, sprawled in the sand like a defeated crab. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Hopelessly charming,” he said with a weak grin.

“You’re lucky I don’t drag you into the ocean and leave you there.”

“You won’t,” he said, grinning wider now. “Because deep down, you like spending time with me.”

You rolled your eyes but deep inside you knew you couldn’t deny it. “You’re ridiculous, Soobin.”

“Well… yes, but at least I’m good at volleyball,” he said, puffing out his chest like he hadn’t just been floored by your throw.

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Fine, ‘Coach Soobin.’ Teach me your stupid game. But if you hit me in the face again, I’m turning you into shark bait.”

“Deal,” he said quickly, grabbing the ball and grinning like a kid who had just won a prize.

That day was a disaster. He tripped over the net, fell into the water at least three times, and nearly knocked himself out with his own serve. But by the end of it, both of you were laughing so hard that your sides hurt, and for a little while, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

The next few times Soobin made his way down to the shore, he didn’t expect the feeling of nervous anticipation that gripped him. It had become a habit now, sneaking out after closing the shop, eager to see you again, with each meeting always full of new surprises.

But today, you weren’t at your usual spot.

He waited, heart pounding as the minutes stretched by. He almost thought of leaving, convinced something must have happened, when a soft voice called out to him.

“Soobin.”

He turned, and there you were, sitting by the rocks just beyond the shore, your eyes gleaming with something that felt almost… mysterious. You held out your hand to him, a gesture that tugged at his curiosity.

“Follow me,” you said, voice quiet, yet full of something more. Something deeper.

Soobin hesitated for a brief moment, wondering what you had in mind, but without another thought, he waded in after you. You held his hand as you led him past the usual spots—past the rocks he’d become so familiar with, past the small grove of trees he thought he knew so well. Your movements were graceful, as though you were the ocean itself, and Soobin followed closely behind, his heart racing in anticipation.

After what felt like a while, you stopped, signaling for him to come closer. He reached you as you glided toward a narrow passage between the cliffs, the rocks towering high above you. It was easy to miss this path unless you knew where to look, and Soobin realized with a sudden breath of awe that he had discovered something truly secret—a sanctuary only you knew.

The narrow passage led to a cove, a secluded little inlet surrounded by jagged rocks, where the ocean stretched out in front of them. The water here was a soft, transparent blue, and the rocks lining the shore were smooth, almost sculpted. The scene before him felt like a dream, a hidden paradise where only you and the ocean seemed to exist.

“Soobin, this place is special,” you said softly as you sat down on one of the smooth rocks. “I come here when I need to think, when I want to be alone. But…” You hesitated before looking at him, your expression unreadable. “I wanted to share it with you.”

Soobin felt a mix of awe and gratitude flood through him. To him, this was more than just a secret spot; it was a part of you, a side of you that you were finally allowing him to see. He sat beside you on the smooth rocks, the weight of the gesture not lost on him. The silence was peaceful, comforting, like this space was made just for the two of you.

From that day on, Soobin made it a point to visit the cove every evening after closing the shop. At first, it was only once a week, then twice. But it quickly became a routine, and before long, it was every day. He couldn’t stay away. The cove had become his place too—a place where you two could be yourselves without any of the outside world’s noise. Each day, the moments you shared there grew more special, more intimate. Everyday, he’d give you a new kind of flower to take home. You’d splash water at each other, tell stories, and laugh at the little things. Sometimes, you’d sit together in silence, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of pink and orange, the world seemingly stopping around you.

As the days passed, Soobin found himself growing more attached to you than he ever expected. It started as curiosity, wondering about the siren who had captured his attention, but now… now it was something more. Something he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore.

And then, one evening as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and purples, Soobin found himself sitting beside you in the cove, his heart pounding, his hand just a little too close to yours. The routine, the bond—everything had led him to this moment. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He turned to you, his throat tight with nerves, and finally, he spoke the words he had been holding onto for so long.

Part 2

[loquarocoeur]

alex I am so sorry to send another fucking ask but like. I needed to okay, (also doing my first ask on a laptop was a mistake bc I can type at the speed of light here and this got way too long oops?)

something I've thought and wondered about before was the idea of what would happen should max & charles ever be interrupted while max is in subspace. you've covered a funnier side like a regular walk in during sex and both of them just being like Would U Fuck Off, but subspace is different. like perhaps its something just like someone at the apartment door that actually does really need answering, an urgent work call one of them forgot about, someone in an area they are unexpectedly that maybe doesn't see them but their presence is enough to panic max.

if its more the physical presence of someone, even just in another room etc, obviously max would lose 20 years of his life at the idea of anyone but charles seeing him in subspace, its a painfully private vulnerable part of him for charles and charles alone. it'd rock him, obviously.

or if it was more along the line of a phone call or situation where one of them needs to be physically present, how would max feel but also how would charles deal with juggling the Important Thing He Forgot To Do while also soothing a very down very subby max. obviously a first idea is just making the problem Go Away, etc, but a. I like to work scenarios through and b. it'd be enough of a bubble intrusion to cause a shift in the atmosphere anyway.

its not even meant to be like especially angsty if you don't want because heavy shit aint always the vibe. you don't need to know like a definite answer here, or have even thought about it before. I just particularly enjoy the dynamic of subspace itself and wanted to chat (and accidentally send u half an essay about) it. hell you don't need to have a fuckin clue I just wanted to float you my brain thinky stuff bc why not <3

apologies again that I've sent u an ask the length of war and peace

~ swanon 🦢

Yeah I think considering their careers this is definitely a thing that happens at some point.

I think the first time it's probably just the door or something and Max thinks he's going to be fine if Charles just leaves to answer it quickly, but turns out it is not fine and Charles can't just leave him because he will absolutely panic

Also it's probably also more subtle that Max's, but I think Charles also kind of gets into a kind of domspace during sex as much as Max gets into a subspace and even though he finds it much easier to snap himself out of it or multitask with it, it's still a thing and he'd probably need a second too

So I think it obviously does happen like several times to the point that sometimes they either just put it off for a few minutes until they're out of that headspace enough to do the 'important thing' or Charles just ends up taking Max with and letting him just cling onto him behind the door while Charles peeks his head out to sign for a package or smth lol and also let's be real, Charles is not above answering phone calls while he is actively inside of Max

So basically I think it's either Make The Thing Go Away or if that's not an option just Multitask

But yeah I don't think it would end up too great if anyone walked in on them while Max is like actually properly in subspace because yeah that's not something Max wants anybody to see except Charles and it's also not something Charles wants to share with anyone else because it's just like private and personal and it means something to them yknow. And Charles also kind of has the responsibility of taking care of things when Max is like that so he would feel like absolute shit about it even if it wasn't his fault like at all.

Yeah I don't even know what would happen but I don't think they would blame each other at all, if it was bad enough they'd probably end up having a joint breakdown about it crying at the same time like no no I'm sorry it's my fault, no it's mine etc until they finally agree it was nobody's fault and finally calm the fuck down and feel slightly bad for whoever they accidentally traumatised just now

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 403: (But Just That One Part, Because I'm Not Caught Up)

Previously on BnHA: Truly no idea, but it kind of looks like Katsuki is riding some sort of spaceship, and everyone has gotten really, really sparkly. I see you all have been busy these past 22 months. Great job, keep it up.

Today on BnHA: “So it’s come to my attention that a truly shocking number of you are only reading this manga for a single character.” – Horikoshi Kouhei, October 2023.

so. where to start, lol

I guess I should open with an apology, because I am about to make a fairly selfish decision! what I am about to do, is post a reaction to Bakugou’s Return To The Manga. however, because I’m not caught up, I’m going to be reading this one scene completely out of context without knowing anything about what is going on. which means that I’m going to be missing out on god knows how many nuances and details, which means this reaction post will be short on those things as well. so basically I’m prioritizing my own personal gratification as a fan here even though it is 100% going to affect the quality of my reaction blog, and for that I genuinely am sorry. eventually I will finish catching up, and when that happens I will post a proper reaction with all the trimmings. that’s just how it is for now though

anyway so with that said, basically what I’ve done now is I have gone to the scanlation website, and clicked on chapter 403, and then scrolled down through most of the chapter while sort of half-looking away from my screen with my eyes squinted so that everything is mostly blurry, until I finally reached the big double-page spread with you-know-who doing his thing. namely, standing around on this giant glowy cereal bowl from the future, which appears to be either hovering up in the air, or slowly crashing onto the ground

and this right here, is exactly what I was rambling on about a moment ago. you guys I really am sorry to be doing this, because even I can tell this should be solemn and sincere moment of awe and excitement and relief. but because I completely lack any context whatsoever for wtf is happening, most of the dramatic impact is lost on me, and to tell the truth right now this page is a hell of a lot funnier than it has any right to be

like, so Deku. this boy is crying all the tears. I recklessly scrolled back up one page to see why, and it appears the answer is Because All Might Is About To Fucking Die (which, !??!?), so that’s actually VERY fucked up, and I’m sure I will have PAGES AND PAGES OF WORDS to say about all of that once I finally catch up properly. that is very traumatic and emotional and I will probably cry a lot about it

BUT, that being said, I just need you guys to know that without that context, Deku standing here with his giant head all >:O in the foreground, while Kacchan appears out of nowhere glowing with the power of a thousand suns and standing on top of this giant floating Smash Bros level that Nezu maybe probably built with his nine million dollars, is one of the wildest fucking things I’ve seen in my life. I feel like an accidental time traveler. you know when a character has one of those crazy prophetic dreams showing them chaotic glimpses of the future, and they’re just standing there all “???” because they have absolutely no clue what the fuck is going on? that is what it’s like right now

heh but there he is

“did you miss me, Izuku. back by popular demand after being on IR for 14 goddamn months. rebuilt better and stronger than ever thanks to the heroic spaghetti man wrapped tightly around my heart keeping me alive. just BnHA things. just a flesh wound. by the way, it’s me, Kacchan, just in case you didn’t recognize me on account of my still being really far away and completely covered by smoke, and also you thinking I was dead. here let me give you a close up to make this easier”

“fuck yeah. it really is me, btw. just in case you still couldn’t tell on account of me also being like 100x prettier than you remembered. guess it’s just that blindingly handsome character development”

also, “the end of an era” um hello, yes, what?? just what exactly have I missed here with all this All Might stuff?? because apparently All Might just prior to this was in some sort of mortal danger, is what I’ve been hearing, because everyone keeps posting excitedly about Kacchan showing up in the nick of time to save him? which incidentally makes my heart so incredibly fucking warm omg. it’s what both of them need AND deserve

why is everything so goddamn sparkly right now. this is like a Sailor Moon battle over here

love that look of instant recognition and shock and overpowering relief in Deku’s eyes though. also has he really been fighting in this cracked out OFA-overflowing mode this entire time?? he looks just like he did on the cover of volume 37. I still haven’t seen his actual canon reaction to the “death”, and I haven’t been keeping tabs on his fight with AFO??/Tomura?? at all, but I’m glad it looks to have been as emotional as I could have hoped

aw fuck yeah

his precious card. I’m now almost as invested in the saga of the All Might card as I am in all the rest of this. it’s all beat to hell, but somehow still made it through in the end. just like him

oh. my. g

protect them.

protect them all.

so is the reason this fight is so sparkly just because of OFA symbolism, then?? or is there something else happening here?? goddammit, okay, I‘m gonna very carefully scroll back to the beginning of the chapter, because I’m 100% positive there is some sort of deeply meaningful symbolic thing going on here and I’ll be damned if I miss out on it, spoilers or no

-- oh my goD??!

1. BABY ALL MIGHT WHAAAAAAT

IS THAT HIS MOM???? OH MY GOD DID WE GET ALL MIGHT BACKSTORY. oh my god. oh god. no actually don’t tell me, ahhhh I cannot fucking wait to read this properly, holy shit

so did something wind up happening to Mighty Mom later on then?? feels like it must have, since he wound up getting so attached to Nana? man I don’t want to think about any of that stuff after seeing this panel though :( just, damn it, why is this man’s whole entire life so goddamn fucking tragic

“the one thing I’ve done most is looking back to the path I took” my god I cannot wait to read this. only two short pages and I’m already buried miles deep into my All Might feels. came here for the triumphant Kacchan return and now I’m sitting here tearing up about All Might, god damn you Horikoshi YOU’VE STILL GOT IT. and I am STILL A SUCKER FOR ALL OF IT

anyway, so now back we go to the last couple of pages with this additional context, aaaaand...

...and apparently I’m now full-on crying about All Might! (: well how about that. turns out when you read the manual and follow the instructions properly this series still works exactly as advertised. don’t mind me I’m just sitting here sobbing because everything is exactly what I wanted and I apparently don’t know how to deal with that!!

THEIR FEELINGS BECOME WHAT?!?!?!

EVERYTHING IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED AND I’M GONNA BE A MESS ABOUT IT FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME BECAUSE LIFE IS GRAND!!

ARE ALL OF THESE WATERY SPARKLES LIKE. DEKU’S FUCKING TEARS LMAO OR WHAT. HOW IS KACCHAN IN THE SPLASH ZONE. HOW ARE HIS TEARS HOLDING UP THE SPACESHIP. I DON’T UNDERSTAND A GODDAMN THING BUT THIS IS NOW OFFICIALLY A SHOUJOU MANGA, I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

the urge to ruffle baby Deku and baby Kacchan’s hair is so goddamn powerful you don’t understand. this is PRIMAL. they are SO happy and SO good and perfect. I’m gonna fucking die

there’s not even any dialogue. what the fuck are they even gonna say. their expressions say it all and more. also they are being kind to me because they know I’m not caught up so they don’t want to spoil me any further, thank you my sons

lastly, I guess, because I don’t really have anything else to add now that my brain has fully turned to sappy mush: so uh. I truly have not the slightest clue how or why, but. does Kacchan have OFA though. and why is the answer, “yes he definitely does.” ???

like, I don’t understand it, but I confess that by now I have spoiled myself on the last few pages of chapter 362 for reasons (those reasons being “I finally gave in and looked at them on purpose, because I’d already seen most of them out of context here and there, and my willpower is only so strong”), and so I know that this boy was talking to vestige!Might, and as far as I’m aware that is 100% not possible unless he has some sort of connection to OFA in some way so yeah

and now here he on this last page being all Profoundly Connected with Deku while they gaze into each other’s eyes, and I can’t help but notice that said eyes are all explodey and they look a LOT like Deku’s actually. and on top of that we have all of this All Might symbolism that I’m still crying about, so like? ???

anyway so I’m not going crazy here right? like this is definitely a thing? for whatever reason?? unless you guys know something here that I don’t. in which case I actually am asking to be spoiled fully just this once, because at this point I just need to know one way or the other and I don’t care lol

anyway so that concludes my thoughts I guess! so now my absurdly ambitious goal is to speed read the manga this next week and hopefully at least catch up to Kacchan’s “death”, so that I can better understand what’s happening when I inevitably wind up spoiling myself for chapter 404 as well. the plan right now is to still type up my liveblog notes as I go, but to not worry about posting or editing anything in between chapters. so I’ll have a big backlog of chapter recaps which I’ll eventually get to uploading whenever I can, but in the meantime I can participate more in the fandom side of things. since I really want to share all of my endgame theories and so forth, but in order to do that I really need to find out just what the fuck is actually going on lol, so yeah

[messinwitheddie]

*recap panel*

Nny "YES!!"

Squee "NOT COOL, Nny! Not necessary!"

MW "AWWK!"

Nny "Flap off, bird. I'm not speaking to you."

[To Squee] "What?"

Squee "Dont ask "WHAT?" You were trying to be hurtful. KNOCK. IT. OFF. It's getting old."

Nny "Hurtful? I didn't hear anything either of you said. I was just excited over finishing my degrading apology chore. It was a pain in the ass. That carpet absorbs dried mud on a molecular level-- but the deed is done... Why... Why are you making that face?"

Squee "This is just my resting Squee face. Yup. No puzzles being put together on my part. --eep!--"

Nny "Ok.

What were you two talking about?

Why is HE making a face?"

Mr. Casarez "You startled me. I don't handle sudden loud noises well."

Nny "You don't? I'll make a mental note."

Squee "Juan was telling me about his son."

Nny "Aw, gross, you reproduced?"

Mr. Casarez "Once. A long time ago."

Nny "Why are people, who should never under any circumstances make more of themselves always the ones who reproduce?"

Mr. Casarez "If only people who "should" reproduce reproduced the human race would probably be extinct by now."

Nny "... You can't be dumb and wise, old man. That's not allowed."

(DING DONG!)

My "AWWWK!!"

Mr. Casarez "¡¿Qué diablos fue eso?!"

Nny "Whoa!"

Squee "Juan, it's ok! It was just the door bell. I the food is here. I saw a car pull up front."

[Last Page]

Thanks for all the positive feedback, everyone, especially after going so long without updating this.

Looks like everyone figured out who Mr. Casarez is, which I'm pleased about. Whether or not Nny figures it out is the journey we're now on.

Sorry for blurriness in some panels. Couldn't keep my hand steady.

It's funny, I've gotten compliments on Nny's outfit in the second part to this story because I head canon that Nny is self-conscious about his skinny arms and therefore usually never goes sleeveless (Hence the jacket he had on pages ago for arm coverage.)

So right now, he's especially irritated for letting Squee talk him into helping Mr. C clean MW's enclosure because it forced him to take off his jacket, revealing the tank top, along with all the other reasons.

For me, this tidbit makes this scenario funnier.]

[the-s1lly-corner]

how about johnathan x a spiderperson?

General hcs for Jonathan with a spider person s/o

WAHOO

Apologies for any typos and such!! Also this may be

Bad

Because I'm realizing my knowledge of alchemax is v limited since my only exposure to spiderman is through spiderverse 😔☝️

Sobs I was so excited for this prompt, I was legitimately waiting for someone to send something like in but the second I started writing my brain imploded and

I'm so disappointed in myself <\\3

I tossed in all I could remember so :(! I hope it's alright!!

Okay him working at Alchemax and likely being a villain and probably against spiderpeople in general (see the first movie, the entire alchemax staff immediately attempting to attack Miles n Peter on sight), you'd both have to keep your relationship a secret

For him to keep his job and for you to not have any leverage used against you; I mean can you imagine if one of your enemies found out you had a boyfriend? And use that against you? Horrid

For convenience let's say you guys are dating long before the idea of the collider is introduced; easier to fall in love with someone when the entire multiverse is at risk/j

Imagine meeting after trying to stop alchemax from doing.. something..

Yeah idk my brains mush, but it warrants you to come down and stop them

Cue you and Jonathan meeting literally just; "oh hes kinda cute :]"

This was funnier in my head

Overall very very interested in any unique abilities you have

Like you know how miles has his electricity and in invisibility? Or Miguel having his fangs? While I don't think every spiderperson has a special power, I do think at least some do

So if you happen to be one of those spiderpeople he's VERY interested

Took a while for you both to warm up to each other because one side was "oh you better not turn me in" and the other is "oh you better not be trying to make me let my guard down"

Yk usual distrust between hero and not-so-powerful-villain

You guys definitely recreate the kiss

You know the one

You're hanging upside down, and

:3

Dates can, unfortunately, get messy :(

Between the having to sneak around and being the towns heroc it's hard to find a time and a place

Oh speaking of that sneaking around thing, it'd have to be a while until you eventually take the mask off around him

He thinks you're.. pretty

Insists you take off the mask more when the two of you are alone

Sneaks and runs off whenever you need to come to alchemax to do something while everyone else tries to take you down

[blushingdread]

Lucy's telepathic connection with her spirits is so underused, especially because it would let her grow her bond with her spirits without having to summon them

My girlfriend is a DID system, so all my thoughts about this are DID adjacent lmao

Just living life:

Lucy wakes up and has a debate with Cancer about which outfit she wears. This is daily and nonnegotiable

Levy spots her best friend when she comes into the guild and excitedly walks up and greets her, only for Lucy to not respond at all. She tries a couple of times, seeing that Lucy is clearly spacing out, only for Lucy to jump when she sees Levy. Apologizing because she was talking to Aries and forgot the outside world existed for a few seconds there.

Lucy is walking with her team. Natsu and Gray are arguing, Erza is teaching Wendy how to read maps or something (and also contemplating murdering the two behind her), and Lucy, who was lagging in the back, randomly burts out laughing bc Gemini told her a joke

Lucy and Loke are sitting pretty far away from each other at the guild, and both of them stand up to start shouting at each other because they absolutely got into an argument (some massively stupid shit, probably like which outfit Mirajane modeled in this week's edition of sorcerer's magazine was the best stupid shit) and they accidently scare the shit out of everyone around them

Lucy dances around on the river bank edge, scaring the poor guys that always warn her not to fall because Lyra is playing music for her in her head

She is literally never late to anything. Never over sleeps. Never. This is 100% because of Horologium and Capricorn and 100% agaisnt her will, but it does give her an impeccable reputation so she's not too mad

If you think Aquarius, Loke, Virgo, and Gemini wouldn't pop in to randomly give commentary on her life, you'd he so wrong. Their all nosey ass bitches and the celestial spirit world is boring, they need their drama somehow

Aquarius will randomly pop up when Lucy talks to a cute boy to ask her why she isn't shooting shot, much to Lucy's loathing. It gets worse when Loke starts doing the same thing but for women. Why are you bi yourself Lucy??? She hates them both

Gemini will show up, say the most impulsive terrible idea ever, and then immediately leave, just letting Lucy sit with that. Have a nice rest of your day. That or they say some gruesome shit while she's in the middle of a fight. Kids, please lighten up

Lucy knows in her heart that when she asks a rhetorical question and Virgo answers that Virgo is actively trying to scare her. She fucking has Virgo's number. She can pretend to be emotionless outside of being a masochist, but Lucy knows she's a little fucking shit

While on jobs:

Lucy is fighting a mage with her whip, trying to figure out what kind of magic they're using so she can properly pick a spirit to counter them and Virgo just pops in like "It's wax magic, princess", scaring the living shit out of Lucy but also helping her in the battle

Lucy is wandering around during a job, sees some big footsteps, and Sagittarius is like, "Those are Tarasque tracks." Unprompted and Lucy starts bemoaning her stupid baka life where she has to fight shit like Tarasques

She could set up some truly bullshit turnarounds with Loke's ability to summon himself. No!! Bad guy!!! I'm running to this dead end all alone :( and my hands are nowhere near my keys :( I'm so scared. Pov: Loke appears right the fuck behind them

Not to mention Loke's ability to switch out with other spirits and have other spirits switch out with him??? If other people couldn't hear them talk, they could do all sorts of insane shit. It would be so much fun. That time Loke blinded Bixslow, and she got his ass except more and funnier bc they know it's coming even less

Also, the spirits' ability to shapeshift is underused. Lucy summons Taurus during a guild brawl. Everyone is expecting a bull man, and no one expects a literal giant bull. She wins that fight, thank you

She takes a job in the desert, and Scorpio is like??? Insanely knowledgeable about how to survive, which shouldn't be surprising now that Lucy is looking back on it, but man, is she happy to have someone who knows exactly what their doing

This isn't always helpful. A village describes a problem to her, and all her spirits end up in a round table discussion about what creature or magic is most likely to actually cause this problem, giving her a massive headache. Guys please shut the fuck up and have this conversation literally anywhere else, thank you

[amypihcs]

The powers of evil indeed

Hello hello everyone! We start with crazy long post for this letter!

Watson has news and probably wants a head pat!

First he starts with some hypothesis on the Barrymore issue. And, romantic as usual, he starts with thinking that it's some love affair, but whatever is the case, he talks about his suspects with sir Henry. Because this butler doing secretive things is a liability™ and also a risk™

Meanwhile, plan decided IT'S TIME FOR SOME GOSSIP!

And while Watson has some moments of basically considering women like furniture (that's bad form Watson, very bad form.) then the moment he had dreaded arrives.

AND WHAT SHOULD HAVE I DONE THEN HOLMES?! YOU SEE IN WHAT SITUATIONS YOU PUT ME.

Of course i followed him! And you would never guess what happened next! They were flirting, you know how lovebirds a- No, alright you DON'T KNOW, I'LL WRITE IT.

Oh well, Sir Henry gets a BAD rebuke and then Watson reveals himself and lets the man rant about his heart problems to him!

poor guy. Weirdly enough, that very afternoon Stapleton goes at the hall to APOLOGIZE TO THEM! Well, Sir Henry still thinks him to be crazy!

Now i'll stop with the gossip and BAAAAACK TO THE BARRYMORE BUSINESS!

Holmes, i deserve a kissy for this! We solved the matter!

Stakeouts with you are MUCH funnier than with Sir Henry, my sweetest love.

We caught him! And i understood that he was signalling!

Watson very much wants cuddles with his Holmes.

AND IT'S NOT BARRYMORE'S BUSINESS, BUT HIS WIFE'S??!

WOULD HAVE YOU IMAGINED HOLMES?!

THE CONVICT IS HER BROTHER!

Amazing, isn't it? Oh i wish you were here!

Well, we set out to try to catch the man, but he fled, we chased but there's more!

FIRST we heard the cry of the hound and then! Oh, you are not going to believe this!

I SAW A MAN ON THE MOOR! NOT THE CONVICT! (imagine for explanation)

Who might that man be?

Well, Holmes. I miss you, i love you and i want a kiss

Yours, John.

And we'll see what happens in the next episode!