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urdreamydoodles · 5 months ago

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MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

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jellyfishhutcherson · 11 months ago

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#NEEDTHAT

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catcze · 6 months ago

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Sylus is the kind of man who loves to hear your noises. He’d make sure that your mouth is never covered when he fucks you, always pulling your hands away or lifting you up by the hair from where you buried your face in the pillows. He’s insistent on it— on hearing how he pleasures you, on how good he makes you feel. He could get off on hearing your voice calling his name, whining and moaning for more. He gets off on how your voice cracks when you’re about to cum, on how your voice raises in pitch the closer you get to that peak. It’s stunning. The best damn thing he’s ever heard— you practically sing under his touch and, if he could, he’d keep a recording of your noises on his phone to keep him company on the lonely days that he has to spend away from you.

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #「 💦 」 whipped.cream #sylus smut #sylus x reader #cw gn reader #lol hi listened tp bloodnight blaze and my day has been brightened ∩^ω^∩

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kawaiiwritingcomputer · 6 months ago

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sonic characters when they have a crush on you || headcanons

Sonic 🍄

Sonic is the “doesn’t make it too obvious” king of guy. You give him something, he takes it with grace and a simple thank you and nothing more but behind closed doors he admires it. He holds everything and anything you give him or do for him dearly. His love language is gift giving but makes it seem like it was nothing.

“Oh yeah this old thing? No worries, just had to get rid of it anyway.” Meanwhile he totally thought of you and what you had mentioned. He’s the kind of hedgehog that can’t go too long without your attention without feeling weirdly huffy but refuses to admit he had a crush on you!

“Has anyone seen (Y/N)? I’m gonna go check on them.” Yeah. He totally doesn’t have a crush.

Tails 🍄

Tails makes his crush totally obvious. He’s inventing you things saying you might need them. Tails explain it thoroughly so you’re always well equipped and know what to do! He’s always looking for you everywhere just in case… Just in case what? Well, for just in case. Tails gets a little nervous that you might not like him back so he tries to overcompensate as a true friend! He’s so easy to fluster. He laughs at everything you say! Even if it’s not funny sometimes. Tails listens to every detail of your life and closely pays attention. Tails loves you so much to the point he’ll create anything for you!

Knuckles 🪼

The echidna will treat you with the respect he gives any other, overall being a kind person. He wouldn’t know what do to with himself, caught in your flames of love. He thinks of you often, yearning to have you in a hug. He’s so strong,, but not strong enough to deny these feelings. He is bad with hints, and to be honest he’s rather blunt.

“Y/N, here are these flowers I picked for you; and also some grapes! I think you are beautiful/attractive, and I would like to court you on a date!” He’s so serious, it’s very silly but you think it’s endearing and sweet. He’ll try to impress you and make a fool out of himself, eventually winning you over in the end because he’s such a silly cute guy and he makes you laugh.

shadow 🪼

He pretends like his feelings don’t exist, for as long as he can stand it. Damn, you’re just so cute, doing your own thing and enjoying every moment of it. You’ll try to drag him along somewhere for fun, and he’ll pretend he hates it but he’s loving every minute with you. He doesn’t make eye contact with you and he seems to be blushing a lot. He’ll only start to open up to you in private moments.

Shadow will show you small physical affections, like an awkward hug or simply trying to hold your hand. If you seem even a little bit off he will pull away, fearing you may think of him as a monster. You’ll have to reassure him yourself and make some of your own moves. “You don’t think I’m,,, dangerous?” He’s scared of hurting you, he doesn’t want to lose something he loves,, have it ripped away from him again.

silver 🍄

Oh Silver. He’s so awkward and shy! He can conversate for sure but if you show too much interest with your pretty eyes he starts to shut down. Silver practically melts but tells himself he must keep strong. He doesn’t want to look weak to you. He has everything under control! Including his crush on you… Or so he thinks. He yaps about the future and his special interests to you. Silver isn’t a show off kind of guy but if he thinks something will impress you, he’ll try to impress you for sure! Even if it embarrasses himself. Anything to hear you laugh!

scourge 🪼

Scourge always gets what he wants, even if he has to take it. From the moment he set his eyes on you, he wasn’t gonna give up. He had to have you. You would look so good as royalty by his side, sitting atop a throne. He would shower you with gifts, anything even stuff you wouldn’t care for. You may be flattered, but he’s a bad boy. He’s trouble, a straight up red flag that’s erratically waving!! He would make any comment he could about you, often really lewd stuff. Obviously staring at you from beneath those flashy sunglasses. He does have a hidden gentlemanly vibe on the inside, though, when he’s fallen into your trap instead. He’s like a moth to a flame fr.

“Have anything ya want from me, please, just take my heart already! I can’t stand it, someone like you lookin’ so good, you should be mine! Come on, I ain’t as bad as everyone says!” His huge fanged grin says otherwise, but at least he’s trying to be honest about his feelings. You get to be royalty, and he may not seem like it but Scourge is a very loyal partner to you.

amy 🍄

Amy is sooo obvious about her crush with you. She’s daydream scenarios and sighing dreamily to herself. You can always feel her eyes on you, and even feel her smile from miles away. Amy reads her tarot cards about you weekly to see when the perfect day to confess is but she gets nervous. What if it ruins the friendship? She can’t stand the thought of not being anything at all! Amy makes you home made gifts as a token of her love. You say you want new earrings? She’s on it! You saw a cute blanket? She’s knitting away! You would have to be blind to not see her crush. Will you accept her feelings?

rouge 🍄

Rouge is hot and cold with you. Is she being nice or is she flirting? Is she being mean or is shy flirting? She’s also very touchy, in a sly innocent way. If you questioned her, she would just shrug innocently. “Ya had something on ya, I was just trying to help.” Rouges love language can be hard to pinpoint. She comes and goes when she pleases but she always makes sure to talk to you. She doesn’t gift you anything because she doesn’t buy anything but she might steal you something. Rouge is playing the long game with you, slowly working her way into your life completely. She just thinks it’s cute watching you get flustered.

sticks 🪼

Sticks is attached to you in an endearing way, and she likes to talk a lot, so hopefully you can keep up with her. She’s not a prize to be won, you have to earn her respect and show her comfort before trust. She’s been through a lot,, and will be glad to have someone to finally talk to and lean on! She would make you primitive looking gifts, or go hunting to bring you something. She feels like she needs to give you something to represent her feelings.

She is quite flirtatious, and it could be confused with her also just being friendly- because she talks without thinking a lot. She makes compliments on your appearance, offers to show you new things, and tends to be kinda handsy. “You n me get along so good, we might as well become partners!” She would remark, hoping you’ll get her hints.

blaze 🍄

Blaze is direct. She befriends you and talks to you a lot. She goes out of her to see you then will go see others. You’re like a soft and safe place for her. She’s got a cool exterior and she feels like when she’s with you, it can be dropped. She knows she can be quiet or talkative around you and you’ll gladly just show up for her. Her love language is quality time and sharing things!

belle 🪼

First thing about Belle, she’s gonna stand up for you in all situations. She is very reliable, and also super intelligent and interesting. She’s so cute, she would love having your company,, someone to chat with while fixing up inventions. She longs for a partnership, and a bond where she doesn’t get hurt in the end. She’s a little shy when it comes to her crush on you,, and you’ll notice she’ll be more nervous and blushy, words don’t seem to come out right and she’s scared of messing up!!

When it comes to how Belle would confess, she would try to make it fantasy line for you. A beautiful environment to look upon, stars in the sky, and she would make you something related to your interests as a gift,, to show you she cares and she has a heart even if she is made of wood and other materials. She would protect you with all of her power, and always try to keep you happy.

bonus: robotnik

What?! Feelings?? Ivo has never felt such things, in fact he would rather laugh!! There is no feeling, only knowing, he claims to believe, and being deemed as unwanted all of his life has only driven these thoughts in harder. In truth he’s honestly scared of emotion,, he doesn’t like the way things can hurt him,, he doesn’t like to care. Vengeance against that hedgehog and his friend is his motivation…. At least until you came along.

There had never been any processing,, if there was room for love in his life. He’d try to calculate it into his plans,, but such an unforeseen situation would have his mind scattered. He’s a lil stressed about it, and may give you harsher conditions to try and push it all away- but he realizes he feels bad about it. Remorseful, he’s gonna apologize to you and try to set you free, you’re better off without him. If you try to stay— well he wouldn’t know what to do, but would blindly accept the situation, and fess up to you. He will always put you first and would never judge you. He never realized before how badly he craves touch,, and someone to love.

#sonic fandom #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #shadow the hedgehog #blaze the cat #amy rose #silver the hedgehog #ivo robotnik #eggman x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #scourge the hedgehog #belle the tinkerer #sticks the badger #knuckles x reader #🪼#🍄#🍄 writing

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starhvney · 29 days ago

Note

How do you think each of the myst men would react if they were gonna be told by their s/o that they were gonna be a dad? (The garroth oneshot of his reaction was so cute)

-🦔

also requested by @faythwasfound!

𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: aaron, blaze, daniel, dante, ein, garroth, gene, jeffory, laurance, rylan, travis, vylad, zane, & zenix

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, domestic, established relationship, fem!reader

𝐀/𝐍: i wrote this in the hospital as my sister was actively in labor. thanks for the inspo, girl 😛 anyways sorry for the long absence guys but here's a lil something. hopefully none of the characters are too ooc? idk i was sleep deprived pls forgive

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

He’s excited. Of course, he’s excited! You two are having a baby! But there’s a small part of him that fills with dread, and it’s not the idea of you being a mother—no, you’re going to be perfect. It’s the fact that he is going to be a father.

He doesn’t think he won’t love them enough. Hell, this baby is an extension of your and his combined love, how could he not? But he will never forget certain aspects of his father when he was growing up, and while he can never imagine making your kid feel that way, he is still his father’s son. What if he somehow begins to act like his father one day and lets the both of you down? What if, what if… what if?!

A deep, reassuring talk is all he needs, and that anxiousness fades away for his real excitement. He will do everything he can to be the best father he can be, and he’ll be damned if he’s anything less.

GARROTH, Zane, Gene, Aaron, Zenix, Ein (Daddy issues gang!)

Bro gets so excited, he lifts you in his arms and runs around the house like he just scored the winning point on the most intense sports game of his life. It takes you shrieking for him to stop when he realizes maybe he shouldn’t necessarily toss around the woman who is actively pregnant with his child, and he sheepishly and gently sets you down.

Still, he practically vibrates in his seat as he talks to you about what this means for the two of you, any technicalities of money or difficulties ahead clearly his last thought. No, you two can figure that one out later. He wants to find out everything, now! Will the baby have your face? His eyes? Will they have his personality? Whatever the case, he’s gonna have a mini version of him and you running around and causing trouble! He’s stoked!

Expect him to yap everyone’s ear off about your pregnancy, from the people you know to the poor cashier at the grocery store just trying to do their job.

BLAZE, Dante, Garroth

He’s so soft. Oh, so soft. You watch as his eyes gather with tears, his lips crumpling into a watery, grateful smile as his hands land on your stomach. You can’t even bring yourself to be worried about his emotional reaction, though, not when he shakily laughs as he leans forward to press kisses on your face, quiet whispers of thank yous in between. Don’t expect to go anywhere after giving him the news, because this sap is going to hold you in his arms and whisper how much he loves you and your baby until you’re absolutely sick of it.

His reaction honestly is the most calming, any anxieties you may have now quelled into just a future problem that you know you won’t have to solve alone. After all, knowing your child will have a father so full of love and care, what could you complain about?

JEFFORY, DANIEL, Rylan, Garroth

He is locked in. House? Already baby proofed. He’s ordering the best quality equipment, setting up a baby registry, and researching every new parent forum he can find, all within a few hours of you telling him. Bad habits? Consider them gone. Any lingering alcohol or cigarettes are thrown out, and the house is clean. Can’t be a bad influence on the baby, after all.

Anything you need during the pregnancy, he’s either already one step ahead of you or rushing out the door to get whatever you want as soon as the words leave your lips. The older ladies around you awe at his dedication, teasing you about how jealous they were. He’s so perfect! They wish they could’ve had a husband so diligent when they were pregnant with their kids!

He merely shrugs it off, shaking his head. After all, it’s the least he can do for the love of his life, especially when you’re carrying the proof of your love.

LAURANCE, Gene, Zane, VYLAD, Aaron

thefatherofyourchild.exe has stopped working. He’s gone. The words, “I’m pregnant,” leave your lips as he stares down at the positive pregnancy test, but there’s not a thought on his face. Is he even breathing? No. No, he’s not. His lips are parted like a fish out of water, eyes wide and very far from holding any train of thought on this earth. Careful, he might start drooling soon.

After a few calls of his name and waving your hand worriedly in front of his face, he finally snaps back to you, a wheezed, “holy shit,” leaving his lips. He looks like he could possibly pass out, and you may have to shake his shoulders to get him to focus again.

This shock honestly doesn’t leave him; every reminder that you’re pregnant makes him freeze and stare in absolute awe and shock, and honestly, he'll keep doing it after the baby is born.

“Babe. I’m a father,” he whispers as he stares down at your newborn, a whole hour after their birth.

“...No shit?!”

ZENIX, Dante, Travis, Ein, Daniel

You think you’re surprising him. But oh, no. No no. He’s had this all planned out since the beginning. As soon as you tell him, he’s pulling out a whole notebook with baby names, nursery ideas, tips he’s heard from other parents and the internet, how to make your pregnancy the most comfortable, etc.

Now it’s your turn to be the surprised one as he yaps to you about how he’s already planned out a savings account for their college fund, future trips to take them on, and the kinds of things he wants to teach them about life. He’s wanted to have a family with you the very moment he realized he was in love with you, and now he can indulge in showing you every one of his notes and Pinterest boards without looking crazy. Cause, you know, it’s not like he was plotting on starting a family with you for years or something… (he was).

LAURANCE, Vylad, Jeffory, Ein

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @arienic @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch @izzybella1807 @marst4rz @vyladsgirl @allieyaaa @luvsymai @yoom-ss @garrothswiferealnotfake @fartmonster98

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im-so-normal-iswear · 6 months ago

Note

Amy Rose, Blaze The Cat and Sonic (separate) X Reader in:

where the characters are in the other room doing whatever until they suddenly hear the reader in another room saying stuff that sounds rather suggestive, so when they come over to check what the heck is he doing, turns out he is doing something mundane and not doing anything suggestive despite how it sounds out of context.

A/n: I couldn't think of like a name to put for this

TW: SUGGESTIVE

Amy:

Amy was reading a magazine, she was at your house currently in your living room, you being just the room over. She enjoys your company, even if you two didnt even really interact, you being in the vicinity was enough for her.

"Bleh, why is it so hard?"

Amys ears perked up. What? No. Thats bad, she shouldnt assume things just by one small thing heard.

"Im surprised it got so big"

W h a t.

She didn't see you walk into your room with you, what was happening? Seriously what?? Maybe its a coincidence, maybe right? After all, who would do that while someown is iver. No one right?

"This is so hard, can I even like eat this?"

...

She sat horrified for a moment. Gross! Seriously? SERIOUSLY?? How dare you, WHILE, shes over nonetheless??

She took a firm grip on her hammer, flustered as her ears pinned to her head. She stood up, marching over to your door.

She reached for the handle, hesitating amoment before shaking off said hesitantions and grabbing the knob and swinging it open.

"now just WHAT is going on here-..."

You looked up at her, crouched down, bowl in hand and a rice spoon in the other. A rice cooker was sat tight infront of you.

"..."

Amy lowered her hammer, taking a deep breath, still recovering.

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

You looked down to the rice cooker than up at her a few times.

"Making rice... I uh.. Got a new rice cooke-"

"I can see that" Amy sighed as she put a hand to her head. "What was with all that stuff earlier?"

"Oh, well, i messed the rice up, didnt add enough water, and now its all hard, im surprised it managed to rise at all because of how hard it is."

"..."

"Amy... You.. Okay?"

"Forget it."

Blaze:

She was over at your house, it was rare she visited your dimension, but when she did, she always wished to make a pit stop at uour house, she enjoyed your company.

When she stopped at your house, you gave brewed her tea, after all, shes a princess, and uh, princesses like tea right? While the tea you served her wasnt nearly as high quality as the one she usually drinks, she appreciated the effort.

Really, you were a very enjoyable person to be around. When you finished giving her tea, you excused yourself somewhere else, she nodded, understanding. Currently she was reading a book, while taking sips of her cup here and there.

"Gh- so... Tight.."

Your voice cracked through the air, it was breathy and light.

Immediately her ears twitched as she paused mid sip, wide eyed.

She hadn't meant to eaves drop, but now she is concerned.

No. It couldn't possibly.

"I cant, get. It. Out."

...

Blaze sat up, beelining toward the room you were in, whirling around the corner to see what in the world you were up to.

She saw you with a remote and screwdriver attempting to unscrew it to no avail.

She stood in silence for a couple moments before you glanced up.

"Oh, hi blaze, i was just trying to switch these batteries, ao we could watch a movie"

Blaze was silent for a moment before extending her hand. "Give it to me, I'll do it"

"You sure? I mean, its like really in there-"

"Im sure"

Sonic:

You’re in your room, trying to set up something that, to your misfortune, had proven way more complicated than expected. It’s a lazy day at home, and Sonic’s taken up a spot on your couch, sprawling out like he owns the place. He’s flipping through channels on the TV, a little bored but content to just chill in your company.

It’s peaceful until you let out an exasperated groan from the other room.

"Theres too much of it..."

Sonic’s ears twitch, but he doesn’t move. It’s not unusual for you to talk to yourself, and he’s gotten used to tuning it out. "What are they even doing in there?" he mutters to himself, shaking his head.

A beat passes, and then he hears your voice again.

"Why is it so sticky?"

The remote slips from Sonic’s hand, clattering onto the floor. His eyes widen as his brain processes what he just heard. Okay, that sounded… not great. He leans forward slightly, his spines bristling.

Another moment of silence. Sonic tells himself not to jump to conclusions, but his curiosity is getting the better of him.

Then you add, "Ugh, it’s getting everywhere!"

Sonic bolts upright, his mind running a mile a minute. What the heck is going on in there? He rubs the back of his neck, trying to play it cool even though his face is heating up. Surely you wouldn’t be- no, there’s no way. Right? But still, those noises and your weird comments are enough to make him suspicious.

"Y/N?" he calls out, his voice a little higher-pitched than usual. XEverything okay in there?"

You don’t respond immediately, too focused on whatever you’re doing, and Sonic’s imagination starts to spiral. The possibilities bounce around in his head, none of them remotely innocent. It’s driving him nuts. Finally, he can’t take it anymore.

"Alright, I’m coming in!" he announces, standing and darting toward your room before you can protest.

He skids to a stop at your doorframe, blue blur coming to an abrupt halt as he takes in the scene.

There you are, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a jar of honey, large bowl, and other small jars and bottles close to you. A spoon was in your hand. There was honey all over the jar

You glance up at him, blinking in confusion at his sudden entrance. "Hey, Sonic. What’s up?"

Sonic just stares at you, his brain trying to catch up.

"...Honey?" he finally asks, his voice flat.

"Yeah." You hold up the sticky jar. "I was trying to make this skincare mask i saw inline, so i bought honey for it, but when i brought it here, i severely underestimated how stucky it is, its just getting on everything"

There’s a long pause. Sonic presses his palm to his forehead, dragging it down his face as he exhales loudly.

"Seriously, Y/N?" he groans. "You had me thinking- ugh, never mind. Forget it."

You tilt your head, utterly baffled. "Thinking what?"

"Nothing! Forget I said anything!"

#sonic the hedgehog #fanfic #sonic #sonic x reader #blaze the cat #blaze the cat x reader #amy x reader #amy the hedgehog #amy the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader

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nevadancitizen · 5 months ago

Text

-> CH. 1: DIRECTIONLESS GENESIS

synopsis: you wake up in a lab with two strange men. they explain who they are, and where you are -- and how you got there. you find everything hard to believe.

word count: 3k

ships: Viktor/isekai!Reader, Jayce Talis & isekai!Reader

notes: small trigger warning for this chapter for brief misguided suicidal ideation

A BLAZE OF ARCANE BLUE MASTERLIST

Bzzt. Bzzt. “Hit or miss!” Bzzt. “I guess they never miss, huh?”

You groan and reach out for your phone to turn off your alarm. You palm at the covers, trying to search for the source of the grating music without lifting your head.

Bzzt. “You got a boyfriend –” Bzzt. “– I bet he doesn’t kiss ya!”

You sit up in your bed – only to find out that it isn’t your bed. It’s a couch. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach as you turn over and face the rest of the room. The blinds on the windows are down and it’s kind of dark, but you can still make out two figures.

Two men are quietly panicking, their backs turned to you as one of them tries to (unsuccessfully) shut off the alarm. Their voices are hushed – “Is this supposed to be music?” “I don’t know, just stop it!” “And tell me exactly how to do that.”

It strikes your tired mind and shocks it into awareness when you realize you don’t know these men. Neither of them. And that, well… you don’t know where the hell you are.

You try your best to quietly get off the couch, but your legs are tangled in the blankets. Instead, you roll to the floor with an ungraceful thud. Your shoulder takes the brunt of the impact.

The two men’s eyes snap over to you. You all look at each other with eyes as wide as dinner plates. The alarm is still going – droning, annoying, but somehow undercutting the seriousness of waking up in an unknown location with unknown men.

You dart up and immediately slip on your blanket when you try to run, falling to the hard floor again. You stand up, staring them both down. (You’re sure you look pathetic, wide-eyed in pajamas and socks, but you don’t really care.)

“Hey, listen,” one of them says. He holds out a hand in what’s meant to be a soothing gesture. “Just… don’t panic, okay?”

He lets out a half-exhale, half-nervous laugh, revealing a tentative, gap-toothed smile. Your eyes dart between him and the other man, who almost looks to be his complete opposite.

Slowly, you lift your legs from the blankets one at a time, untangling them. You glance around the room, making sure to keep both men in your line of sight.

A workbench. A hammer. The plan isn’t fully formulated, but it’s there, and you’re enacting it.

You bolt across the room and pounce on the hammer. You quickly turn around, readying the hammer above your shoulder. The two men haven’t moved.

“N-now…” Your voice wavers despite yourself. You point at the men. “Now don’t you come any closer! You – you hear?”

“We are not moving,” the other man says. He’s paler than the other man, with dark undereye-bags and a cane. The handle probably has a knife hidden in there somewhere. He’s the one holding your phone, which is still going off.

Bzzt. “He gon’ skrrt –” Bzzt. “– n’ hit the dab like Wiz Khalifa!”

“Shut up!” You snap. “And turn that goddamn alarm off!”

The bigger man holds up a hand to the one who just spoke. A silent gesture saying, ‘Let me handle this.’ “That’s… what we’ve been trying to figure out.”

That gives you pause. These two men – who are dressed rather smartly, to their credit – can’t figure out how to turn a phone alarm off?

“Press the… grey button,” you say. “Y’know, the one that says ‘stop’?”

The paler man taps your phone screen, and the song turns off. Suddenly, in the semi-silence, everything seems so much more serious. You kind of wish that stupid 2018 TikTok song was still playing so you could continue to downplay the realness of the situation.

He holds up your phone, almost tilting it towards you. “This is yours?”

“Um…” You readjust your grip on the hammer. “Yeah.”

There’s a silence. You swallow thickly, glancing around the room again. More of your things are on the far side of the workbench, near the men. Whatever. They’re not that high on your list of priorities.

The bigger man tries to break the silence. “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?” You parry. “‘Cause I’m goin’ to the cops, soon as I can.”

“Jayce Talis,” he says readily. “And this is my lab partner, Viktor.”

The other man – Viktor – tucks the handle of his cane under his arm and holds his hand up in a wave. A small smile graces his thin lips, like he’s trying to get you to calm down, to see that neither of them mean you any harm. You swear to yourself that you’re not so easily swayed.

“Okay,” you say, almost to yourself. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Okay.”

You roll your shoulder and relax a little, now letting the hammer hang at your side. Both Jayce and Viktor seem to relax a bit, too.

You steel yourself and nod, almost like you’re giving yourself permission. You introduce yourself, only giving your first name.

“That’s a start,” Jayce says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s shit whether it’s nice or not,” you say. “I was fixin’ to cave both your goddamn skulls in. Still gonna, if you don’t tell me where the hell I am.”

Both of them share a glance. Viktor steps forward, his cane clicking against the floor as he does.

“You are in one of the laboratories of Piltover Academy,” he says, “which is one of the most prestigious universities in all of Runeterra.”

You let out a strained laugh and sarcastically wag your finger at him. “You best start makin’ some sense quick, boy, ‘cause I don’t got a whole lotta patience.”

“It’s… complicated,” Viktor says. “You came from…”

He tilts his head and shifts his gaze over to something on the workbench. It’s… blue, and it’s glowing. It’s a rough but still kind of-circular rock, gently hovering above a small platform.

“That. A hexstone.”

You pause. “What the fuck?”

“Yes, my thoughts exactly.” Viktor walks over to it, putting your phone down next to it. It moves, independently, a little closer to the hexstone. He pushes it further away, outside its… sphere of influence, you guess.

“I was conducting a routine experiment to gather more data when the hexstone suddenly turned volatile,” he says. “I cannot describe it exactly, but… there were sparks, a light, and then…”

He looks over at you, a knowing look in his tired eyes. “You.”

You set your jaw and stare at him. He’s not joking. He genuinely believes that you were… birthed, maybe?… from this rock. Like some sort of ancient Greek myth; like how Athena was born, fully grown and armored, from Zeus’ head.

“I don’t believe that for a split fuckin’ second,” you say, your voice laced with mean laughter. “You really think you can convince me that I was born in some big flash of light? You want me to believe your… goddamn magic rock brought me here?”

“It’s a hexstone,” Jayce says quickly. “Not a magic rock. Though it does have magical properties.”

“Right, right.” You put your hands up, one still holding the hammer. “My sincerest apologies. I do not – cannot – believe that your hexstone brought me to your secret little laboratory.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought you would say,” Viktor says. “You won’t believe us, no matter what we say. Is that not right?”

“Yeah,” you say. “‘Cause everything that comes out your mouth is total bullshit.”

Viktor reaches over to a switch near the edge of the window. He flicks it. You glance at Jayce. He’s watching Viktor.

Slowly, slowly, the blinds on the windows pull up. Light filters through, and the room is suddenly much more bright and inviting. (Not that you’re planning on staying or anything.)

Outside is just… not what you expect. The buildings are tall and the architecture is breathtaking. There’s an amazing clocktower in the distance, with an art piece sitting on top of it, composed entirely of golden, self-rotating cogs.

And there’s zeppelins. Or airships, or blimps – you don’t know. You’ve only seen the Goodyear blimp on TV, and you’ve only heard of zeppelins when your daddy or one of his friends mentioned Led Zeppelin. But still – there’s a few of them, roaming the airspace mere hundreds of feet above the city like it was no big deal.

The hammer falling from your grip and banging against the floor pulls you from your thoughts. You flinch and jump back, jerking the foot you almost hit in the air with an exclamation of “Christ alive!”

Both men tense and turn towards you at the sound. You exhale sharply and put both feet firmly on the floor, trying to brush the little incident off as smoothly as you can.

“This is just… this’s just a trick of the light, that’s all!” You say. “Or TVs that look like windows, some-something like that.”

You pick up the hammer and brace a hand on the workbench, then hoist yourself up so that you’re standing on it. Jayce and Viktor are saying something, insisting you get down. You’re not paying attention.

You raise the hammer, swing your arm, and –

It’s glass.

It’s clear, thin glass that’s raining down in the streets below. You step back, almost tripping and falling off the workbench backwards in the process.

“No,” you say softly, almost like an exhale. Then, you raise your voice: “No! What the hell is this? You…”

You look back at Viktor and Jayce. They both look shocked, and stay quiet. You look at where the window meets the edge of the workbench.

This must be some… some dream. That’s it. When you were a kid, you used to have these dreams where you were tiny, and fell in the crack between the edge of the mattress and the wall. The dream ended when you hit the ground. It didn’t really click in your kid-mind that falling from a tall height plus hitting the ground equals death, but still. You woke up. The end result was still the same.

You toe through the broken glass, sweeping it away with the side of your foot. You can feel a small prick in your skin. (This dream is very intricate. It impresses you, really.)

“Wait!” “Stop!”

You glance over your shoulder at them, then promptly continue what you were doing, smashing the hammer through the rest of the glass in the pane to clear it.

“What’re you doing?” Jayce asks, his voice panicked. You feel his hand wrap around your ankle but give it no mind.

“It’s a dream,” you say. “If I die, I’ll get outta the dream. That’s simple logic, don’t you know?”

You lift your foot, trying to shake Jayce off. He doesn’t let go.

“What if we recreate the event?” Viktor asks. “Would that prevent you from jumping?”

You look over your shoulder at him and put your foot down. Jayce is still holding on. “What event?”

“The event that brought you here,” he says. “A… a rift in the universes, as I understand it.”

You pause. “That’s just plumb stupid.”

“Stupid enough to work,” Jayce says. His grip around your ankle tightens. “Right?”

“This ain’t some movie,” you snap. “We can’t conquer all with the power of love and Christ.”

“You do not seem like a stupid person,” Viktor says. “You know that jumping would guarantee your death. Or a painful stay in the hospital, at the very least.”

You glance down at the street below. Viktor’s right – it is a long way down. And even though it’s a dream, your heart is still beating wildly. The people below are so busy that they haven’t even stopped walking, or even noticed the glass on the street. They continue on with their day, smiling and sipping their seven-dollar coffees… or whatever it is rich people do in rich cities like this.

And then, everything you thought kind of just… comes crashing down. There’s people down there. You can see two people hugging. There’s a man holding a baby. A little family out on the town, doing their midday shopping. Your dream of this being a dream is just that – a dream. Your stomach drops a little and you can feel a cold sweat coming on.

“I – I got a life,” you say. “I got shit I gotta take care of – responsibilities. I go to college.”

“We can find supplemental instruction,” Jayce says quickly.

“I’m an art major,” you say. “I study Jewelry and Metal Arts! This’s gotta be a STEM school… the lab, how y’all ‘re dressed…”

“We can figure this out,” he says. “You can keep making jewelry. I – I can find a sponsor for you to keep going to school. Just… step away from the ledge. Okay?”

You breathe out a sigh and back away from the edge. Jayce’s grip around your ankle loosens. Even if this is a dream, it’s… it’s a nice dream. The skyline is nice, the men you woke up to are nice – well, they seem nice enough. The architecture of the clocktower is nice and so is the statue idly spinning atop it, the golden cogs rotating and catching the light, the resol so bright it may just blind someone…

You can feel the adrenaline in your blood drop and your hands start to shake. Jayce slowly, carefully takes the hammer from you, then helps you down off the workbench, almost guiding your body like a doll.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks.

You open your mouth, then close it with a breathy exhale that kind of resembles a laugh. You lean back against the edge of the workbench. “I’m… I’m worn slap out.”

Viktor looks you over with a scrutinizing gaze, then turns and walks into a sideroom, his cane clicking against the floor as he does.

“You should take a seat,” Jayce says.

Without your input, he takes your wrist and guides you back to the couch you woke up on. You practically collapse on it as you sit down.

“I…” Your eyes rake over the workbench. The broken window, the shards of glass. There’s a little blood where you cut your foot. You feel awful. “I caused one hell of a mess, didn’t I?”

A look crosses Jayce’s face that, in essence, says ‘Yes. Yes, you did.’ But if he has anything to say, he doesn’t.

Viktor comes back, a steaming mug in one hand, a small box in the other. The handle of his cane is tucked underneath his arm, but he manages to walk fine without using it. (You’re sure walking without it is taxing, but if there’s any indication, Viktor doesn’t let it show.)

He sits next to you on the couch, making sure to keep a polite distance. He holds out both the mug and the box towards you. “Sweetmilk to help with the adrenaline drop, and a first aid kit for your foot.”

“Oh.” You take them from him. Your fingers brush his, and it almost sends a shock through you – his skin is cold. “Thank you, sir.”

“There is no need for your formalities here,” Viktor says. He sounds kinder now that you aren’t acting like a total tweaker.

“My momma raised me with manners in mind,” you say.

You set the first aid kit in your lap, then raise the mug to your mouth and test the temperature with your lips. It’s hot, but it won’t burn you. You take a tentative sip, and it’s heaven. It’s a little bit of heaven consolidated into a mug of milk, sweet and spiced.

“That’s nice,” you say. “What’d you say this was again?”

“Sweetmilk,” Viktor says.

You nod and take another sip. It warms you from the inside and washes away Viktor’s cold touch. The spices are warm and autumn-ish – like cinnamon and nutmeg and allspice, but not quite.

“I never, um…” You tap your fingers against the side of the mug. “I should give y’all a proper apology. So, I apologize. For…” You tilt your head and point at the mess you made with your eyes. “… that. I behaved inappropriately, and I should’a thought ‘fore actin’ like a fool.”

“I understand it. Well, kind of,” Jayce says. “You woke up in a strange place with strange men. It’s understandable that you would act like that.”

“Still. That was, uh…” You laugh breathily. “That was somethin’ else, weren’t it?”

“It was,” Viktor says, then his voice takes on an almost teasing lilt. “Hopefully you know how to behave yourself in the future.”

“Yessir, I do,” you say. A small smile makes its way onto your face. You know Viktor’s giving you hell just for the sake of it, and it’s a comfortable feeling. “Like I said, my momma beat them manners into me ‘til I wasn’t a toe outta line.”

Viktor and Jayce give you odd looks, and you can feel a warmth in your face. Perhaps corporal punishment involving children isn’t as prevalent here as it is back home.

“Never mind all that,” you excuse. “Was more like… verbal beatin’s than anything else.”

You can feel the newfound tension in the room relax a little. You just sip your sweetmilk (which may be your new favorite drink, honestly) and pretend as if nothing’s wrong. You’re good at that.

You take a mental note that you’ll have to watch your tongue in the future – you don’t want these young men’s patience to run out. This is a strange world, and you’re a stranger to it. Piltover seems like a rich city, and rich cities don’t take kindly to poor folk… You’re a Southerner. The South is nothing but poor.

Whatever. You’ll make it work. You always have. How can this be any different…?

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softlypaintedseafoam · 5 months ago

Text

man is the breast, heaven is the playground

synopsis. you might be the only one in your division not utterly smitten with your partner, makima. call it disinterest, call it being observant that her smiles never reach her eyes. either way, you have no interest in bridging the gap between you both. but one day, an attempt is made, and it isn’t by you.

pairing. makima x f!reader (afab)

word count. 9.5k | masterlist

content warning. 18+ (loss of virginity, sub!makima), part 1 spoilers (manga spoilers), canon divergence (makima never meets denji), man is a blazing star (series), pre-canon, colleagues to lovers, character study, use of y/n

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

another repost of one of my favorite chainsaw man fics (a series) and one of the most popular on my other writing blog. this fic is old and there are a bit of issues with the writing that i think has to do with my skill at the time, but i still love it. i'll be slowly adding the series over here to this blog and i hope people enjoy it.

“Good Morning.”

“Morning, Makima.” You recognized the soft voice of your partner even before you looked away from your book.

“The weather is quite nice today, isn’t it?” It was a pleasantly warm day in Tokyo.

“I’m personally more of a sweater weather girl, myself,” you disagreed good-naturedly. “I get hot too easily so I like the cold. I’m that person who drinks iced tea in winter.”

“I see.” Makima hummed. “How odd.”

With that, a silence fell over the both of you as you awaited your orders for the day. Whether or not you’d call it uncomfortable, you left up in the air. It had been a little over a month since you began working for the Tokyo Branch of the Public Safety Devil Hunters Bureau and neither you nor your partner made an attempt to bridge the gap between you both. Every odd socially obligatory small talk you’d potentially discover something new about each other.

Like today, for instance, Makima enjoyed warm weather while you preferred cool.

Riveting stuff, you thought sarcastically on your way from the bathroom when you saw a familiar brunette lurking from around a corner. “Good morning, Nanaka.” The girl jumped in surprise, looking like a child caught sneaking her hand into a jar of cookies.

“What do you think you’re doing sneaking up on people like that, [First]!” Nanaka snapped, cheeks flushed pink.

You held back a roll of your eyes, “I’m not the one drooling over Makima from a distance like a creep.”

Flustered, Nanaka fixed her posture from looming to rigid. “I’m not drooling!” She hissed adamantly. “I’m admiring! Miss Makima is one of our best devil hunters! She’ll definitely be in charge of her own division one day soon! I have no idea how you were placed to be her partner.” You shrugged, knowing your coworker wouldn’t be pleased regardless of your answer. Twas the punishment for being partnered to the woman everyone and their mom seemed to worship without hesitance.

Nanaka sighed wistfully. “You’re lucky you get to be Miss Makima’s partner.”

“I’ll be sure to remind myself I got lucky getting paired with Makima then.” You didn’t bother holding back your sarcasm. “I’ll reflect on my actions when we go on patrol.”

“You should be more respectful” Nanaka scolded, shooting you a glare for your less-than-awed perspective. “Miss Makima’s been working here longer than you and you talk to her so casually.”

You nodded in the direction of the devil hunter in question. “Hey, Makima’s the one who told me she didn’t care about keigo. Take that up with her.”

Nanaka shook her head disparagingly at you with a ‘hmph’. “I’m going to greet Miss Makima before you both go on patrol.” Her brown eyes sparkled at the sight of the red-haired devil hunter, practically skipping in her direction. “Miss Makima, good morning! I’m so sorry, I forgot to bring you that coffee you really liked!”

The blunder didn’t seem to worry Makima at all, fortunately for Nanaka, as she smiled in that rehearsed way you expected from your partner by now. “That’s no problem at all, Nanaka. Try not to forget next time, though. I look forward to your coffee each morning.”

The brown-haired member of your division giggled, pleased. “I’ll make sure to remember tomorrow.”

You’re in awe of Makima enough for the both of us, what do I need to be so reverent for? Nanaka would likely have many choice words for you if she heard your thoughts. Yet you only felt that awe decrease as you saw your associate fawning over Makima day after day when Makima barely seemed to return even a fraction of it. You eyed Makima’s face from the corner of your eye and closed it with a small huff. Not smiling again.

Makima’s smile never reached her eyes, no matter how politely she spoke or how warmly she seemingly behaved.

It was apparent to you from the first day you met her after you arrived in Tokyo as a newly hired member of the Public Safety Devil Hunters Bureau.

“[Last], this is your partner Makima. Makima, she’s new to the country but her Japanese is decent. Make sure to teach her well.”

“Of course.” Red ringed eyes looked at you soullessly. Makima was almost like a doll, her smile painted on. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, [First]. I look forward to our partnership. Be good for me, okay?”

A condescending, callous doll.

That opinion hadn’t changed in the time you worked together. Hence why you stared at Makima like she had grown a second head when, after being told of a devil by a panicking high schooler who had ditched class, she went into a restaurant and ordered a plate of chicken katsu curry.

You blinked as you watched the redhead take a seat at a booth. “Um, aren’t we going to get that devil?”

Makima smiled at you again, the same one that never reached her eyes. “Oh yes, you can get that, [First].” She said like it was obvious, ringed eyes looking you dead in the eye. “If I go now, my food will get cold.”

You felt an eye twitch in annoyance, watching as Makima brushed a stray strand of hair back into place. Do I look like Nanaka to you? You wanted to seethe but that was probably the reaction she wanted. You held back an annoyed sigh as you took deliberate steps in Makima’s direction, sitting across from her before she could say anything else.

Your eyes peered into gold flecked with lines of red before you raised a fist. “Janken. Loser has to kill the devil.”

A silence passed over the both of you, one considerably less comfortable than usual as Makima looked at you and you looked at her, unyielding. You weren’t Nanaka or any of the others part of your division that would happily swing your sword around at Makima’s request ー no, demand ー without a second thought. “Auntie, can you make me a bowl of tororo soba? Cold please!” You asked, eyes still staring into gold.

A second past, two seconds.

“Very well,” your partner finally raised her own fist, much to your satisfaction. “one round then. The loser will also have to pay for lunch.”

“I gotta warn you then, I’m a rock-paper-scissors master.” You smirked.

A smirk that only grew wider when you pulled paper to Makima’s rock.

“Looks like you’re treating me to lunch today, partner.” You wrapped your hand around her closed fist, almost marveling at how much smaller hers were in comparison to yours. “Like I said, Janken Champion right here. I don’t lose.”

You half-expected her to demand a rematch leading you to ‘tsk’ that there was no time with such a devil on the loose.

Or perhaps give you the glare of the lifetime for besting the oh-so-mighty and worshiped Makima.

Her actual reaction was much quieter, however, as she stared at your joined hands with an unreadable expression. Damn is she that upset? You removed your hand from hers, instead opting to lay your chin on your palm. “I’ll be waiting for you to come back then, Makima. I’ll try not to get too crazy with my ordering while you’re gone.”

“Go ahead and indulge yourself.” Makima insisted as she stood, throwing her coat on once more.

You thrummed your fingers lightly on the table as your partner left the restaurant. As if I’d actually push my luck that much. A small selfish part of you considered doing exactly that, picking up a menu and ordering much more than a meger bowl of cold-style soba. But it’s just not my style to piss off a ginger. You sighed to yourself quietly before calling for the waitress once more, “Auntie, can I get some iced barley tea too?”

“Of course, dear!” The elderly waitress said with her best customer service smile. “Your Japanese is quite good!”

“No no, I’m still learning something new everyday.” You negated, waving your hands. “It’s a hard language to learn.” After a few more brief exchanges, you found yourself still waiting for Makima as you sipped slowly on your iced tea. It was never as simple as killing a devil and calling it a day. There was still the report to make and waiting for the cleanup team before you could be dismissed from the scene.

Whenever she returned, Makima’s katsu curry would definitely go cold by then.

You eyed your soba that had arrived minutes prior and the curry dish beside it. The sight along with the smells was enough to make your mouth water.

Growl.

God damn it. You pointedly looked away from your bowl to the TV showcasing a baseball game, ignoring the strong smell of the curry spices. You could have cried in relief when your partner finally returned to the restaurant. “Oh you’re finally back,” you observed with composure.

Makima glanced at your soba as she took her seat. “That must have been there for a while,” she replied, observant.

“Well it isn’t like tororo soba can get any colder.” You shrugged, breaking apart your chopsticks. “Thanks for the food.”

“Thank you for the meal.”

“… the chicken katsu is soggy” Makima muttered after one bite. You snorted almost immediately, but said nothing in reply.

You could almost hear Nanaka hisses that you needed to be more respectful towards your senior or that you should have gone ahead and killed the devil instead. Yet you couldn’t find yourself feeling any regret as you saw something more than a fake smile or mild disinterest on your partner’s face. Even mild annoyance was better than her usual expressions.

Looks like I finally saw a new side to you, huh, partner. You held back another snicker.

“Oi!”

“Alô, senhor Rocha.” Hello, Mr. Rocha. You smiled tiredly as you approached the cash register. “Tudo bem?” Are you doing well?

“Tudo bem e você?” I’m well and you? The man asked as he checked your items.

“Estou bem também.“ I’m good too. You weren’t one to fear being alone, nor were you the type to get lonely easily. Still, the Rochas, a family of Brazilian immigrants who ran a small grocer, were a welcome part of your life in Tokyo, especially after work. “Só estou cansada.” I’m just tired.

“Oh!” You gave Mr. Rocha a curious look as you passed him the largest bill in your wallet. “I saw you earlier!” He said in accented Japanese, grinning widely as his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Com uma mulher!” With a woman! You knew exactly where this was going with that one statement. “Essa era sua namorada?” Was that your girlfriend?

“Não, não.” No, no. You shook your head with a nonchalant wave but it was too late as you saw the quickly approaching form of Mr. Rocha’s wife. The Rochas were always interested in your love life. You weren’t sure what it was “Nós-”

“O que ela parecia?” What did she look like? Mrs. Rocha looked at her husband with excitement.

“É ruiva com cabelo comprido.” She was a redhead with long hair. Mr. Rocha relayed.

Mrs. Rocha gave your shoulder a playful slap that was meant to be congratulatory. “É linda?” Is she beautiful?

You shook your head again, a mixture of exasperated yet amused. You supposed you’d indulge them for a few seconds. “É linda demais pra mim.” Too beautiful for me. You couldn’t hold back your chuckle as the older woman rolled her eyes, calling you ‘silly’ under her breath. "Nós apenas trabalhamos juntas; era uma patrulha.” We just work together; it was a patrol.

As expected, that lessened their enthusiasm drastically. “Tenha cuidado, por favor, [First].” Please be careful, [First]. The elderly woman pleaded with you as you left with your bags.

“Yes, yes.” You could barely contain your yawn. You waved farewell at the jovial couple. “Boa noite.” Good night.

Você é linda, mais que demais. Você é linda, sim… You hummed under your breath, lightly swinging your bag. You saw a new side to your devil hunting partner today. It had been a little over a month since you’d been working together and it was the first time you could confidently think something along that line.

It was like seeing a unicorn in a forest, something you’d never encounter again in your whole lifetime. Funny how unicorns are still considered fantasy when we live in a world with devils and fiends. But a rarity was a rarity. The two of you were work associates, neither of whom had displayed an interest in getting to know each other beyond what was necessary to do your job.

You doubted such a thing would ever be presented in front of you again, you yawned.

Or so you thought when you found yourself, the next day, being taken out of a morning read by the sound of something being placed on the table in front of you. You lowered your book, finding your new company to be Makima and a cup of coffee. “Good morning, [First].”

You raised an eyebrow. “Morning, Makima.” You stared at the cup then at your partner. “Did you need something?”

“It’s iced coffee.” Makima explained as if she were telling you the sky was blue.

Exasperated, you shook your head. “I know it’s iced coffee, but I mean why are you giving it to me?” Isn’t that the coffee Nanaka gets you every day? Were the unexpressed words between you.

“I’m not one for cold drinks but then I remembered you saying you enjoyed them.” Makima nudged the drink closer to you, eyes almost owlish. Is this some weird ass test? Or is she trying to get back at me because of the janken thing? “Go ahead and take it.”

From the corner of your eye, you could feel the glare of a familiar brunette. Nanaka’ll kill me if I drink that. As if she were agreeing with your sentiments, that glare felt even hotter. “Thanks but you keep it. Coffee messes with my stomach.” With a strong hint of finality, you stood up. It would be best to find a different place to read. “Let me know when they dish out orders, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

Odd.

“[First], give me your pen.” You found yourself side-eying your partner in displeasure the next day as the redhead held out her hand expectantly. “I have paperwork.”

No shit, we both have paperwork. “There’s a pen right in front of you.” You look pointedly at the pen that she was already using, placed neatly atop the files she was still working on.

Makima smiled as if she were expecting that answer, “mine ran out of ink.”

“The hell am I supposed to do my paperwork with if I give you my pen then?” You asked sourly, unable to keep the annoyance from your voice.

Makima placed her hand thoughtfully on her chin for a moment before picking up the pen she claimed was empty. “Would you like to use my pen in exchange?” She smiled yet it only looked mocking.

“I don’t.” Your response was clipped as you turned your head and continued working. Almost expectantly, another member in the office practically skipped over at the opportunity. “I have a pen for you to use, Miss Makima!” He all but sang.

Things came to a boiling point a few days later on patrol when the following sentence left Makima’s lips:

“[First], tell me why you decided to join the Bureau.”

You huffed in annoyance. Does this woman not understand the concept of asking people for things? Pretending you didn’t hear her, you deliberately looked off into the distance ignoring another call of your name. “Ahh, what a peaceful day it was for this patrol wouldn’t you say?”

“Tell me why you decided to join the Tokyo Branch Bureau.” Makima repeated and you rolled your eyes, knowing she couldn’t see it. “That’s an order.”

You blinked.

Twice.

Thrice.

The kettle that your irritation and anger boiled over.

With a twitch of your eye, you turned your head over your shoulder. “You know, there’s these words called ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.” You snapped, the annoyances from the week fueling your harsh tone. “Believe it or not, just telling people to do things for you isn’t how normal relationships work if you’re trying to be someone’s friend!”

Surprise, that would best describe the look on Makima’s face right now. Genuine surprise, but at what you didn’t know. Perhaps Makima was so used to getting her way that hearing you snap was something she wasn’t expecting. “If you wanna know why I joined the Bureau I don’t care, but you’re not just going to demand I tell you like that. Ask again like a normal person and I might consider it.”

You stared at gold and gold stared back at youbefore Makima finally relented.

“[First], why did you decide to join the Tokyo Branch Bureau?”

“I hated living in my home country and I wanted the free company housing in whatever place I ended up moving to.” See, was that so hard? You leaned against the railing beside you. “But I couldn’t exactly put that on my application, so the official reason is that generic stuff everyone else puts on it. I just added how I felt my abilities would be best suited for international relations.”

“England, Ireland, Brazil, Japan. Japan got back to me first, so here I am. I’m probably gonna move into my own apartment though, company housing is fine but I want my own place.” And you were sure a few of them were starting to catch on to the two cats you snuck into the building.

“That was quite a chance roll.” Makima finally commented. “What if Brazil had responded first?”

“I guess I’d be in Brazil right now then.” You looked away from your partner with a shrug, enjoying the peach and carmine sunset. You had a friend in Fortaleza, you could have roomed with her until you got a place. “I studied a few languages when I was younger because I always wanted to do work that would allow me to travel. It didn’t really matter to me where I ended up as long as it wasn’t home, so I didn’t apply to the branch in my city.”

“And you can risk your life for that reason?” Makima asked you carefully. “Is that enough for you?”

You hummed thoughtfully. A friend back home asked the same question, although it was tinged with worry in contrast to Makima’s genuine curiosity. “I’ll probably change my mind someday, but for right now, it is.”

Your anger subsided, you sighed peacefully with a smile as you looked at the Tokyo cityline. You had yet to get tired of it. It was busy and crowded, but it was yours even at the protest of your relatives who were worried you were making a mistake of gargantuan proportions. “Yep, definitely enough.” You stretched your arms. “It’s about time for the night shifters to start heading out. Should we head back to the main office?”

There was no protest to be had. “Yes, we should.”

“Makima.”

“Yes?”

“Pull rank on me like that again and I’m gonna flick your forehead.”

You received no response to what you considered a promise, not an empty threat. Whether or not Makima believed you, you didn’t know.

The sight of the Tokyo Branch building was a welcome one. Fuck cooking, I’m ordering out tonight. After your exchange a half-hour prior with Makima, you were tempted to add dessert to that order. “See you on Monday.” You waved without sparing Makima so much as a glance as two night shifters you recognized as Tsubomi and Akira brushed past you.

“Oh you’re just coming back, Miss Makima?”

“I’m glad I caught you on the way out! How was your patrol?”

“It went smoothly this time.” Came the soft reply.

In spite of yourself, you peeked over at your partner and coworkers as you turned the corner to get your things from your desk. To your lack of surprise, Makima’s usual smile was found nowhere in her eyes. What was a surprise, however, was the dimness in them.

What kind of expression was that?

A solemn dimness danced in Makima’s eyes in spite of the warmth she was surrounded by.

Lonely.

That was the feeling Makima’s eyes had given you.

You scratched the back of your head, mildly irritated at the guilt you felt. Damn it. No, no no. I just want to go home, feed my cats, and call it a day. I don’t have work tomorrow either, I can sleep in! Still, you found yourself lingering at your desk as Makima walked in now that the evening patrollers had gone on their way. I didn’t even do anything wrong, she was being a bitch!

It was only your cursed luck that while digging for your walkman, you found two coupons for okonomiyaki in your bag.

Fuck, I forgot about this. It goes bad tomorrow.

It wasn’t the grandest gift to receive after saving a person’s life, but you happily received it from a young couple whose lives you saved from a worm devil.

“When things like this happen, it’s obviously a sign from the universe,” you could hear Himeno’s voice.

Cosmic timing was a bitch, but it was a bitch you were interested in seeing through.

“Makima, wanna go to this okonomiyaki place?” You held up crumpled coupons with an air of nonchalance that you hoped seemed natural. If Makima sensed your hesitance, you couldn’t tell. You’d almost say she seemed surprised again. Not that I blame her after earlier. Not that it still wasn’t irritating. “Some people I helped out on a job a while back gave it to me and these expire tomorrow. I’ll pay this time since it’s discounted.” You added jokingly. “Feel free to say ‘no’ though since it’s a last minute offer.”

When there was no immediate response, you placed the coupons in your bag neatly. “Well, I’ll see you next week-”

“I’ll go.” Makima’s smile was small and light as she followed you out. “You just seemed angry at me before, I’m just surprised you asked me to tag along for dinner, kouhai.” A teasing lilt accompanied a mocking smile.

“You and me both, senpai.” You replied with more sarcasm than not. And there she goes, instantly making me regret this.

“Do you mind me asking why?”

“You just seemed lonely, is all.”

You didn’t notice you were walking alone until you were half way down the hall. “Makima?” You paused with a nonplussed raise of your eyebrow, looking back at where the redhead stood. She looked at you like you grew a third head, eyes shockingly wide and mouth slightly ajar. “You alright?”

Makima composed herself as if the strike of midnight broke the spell. “Yes.”

But was she? The answer to your unasked question eluded you.

“[First], mind if I drink this?” Himeno’s voice was nearly too loud in the practically empty room you sat in.

You nodded in the direction of your iced tea without taking your eyes off your paperwork. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Damn this tastes great, what is this?!” Himeno moaned, taking a lengthy sip. You doubted there’d be anything left for you by the time she finished.

“Some fancy elderberry assam tea. Makima got it for me.” She would give you a different kind of tea every week much to Nanaka’s chagrin. It seemed Makima had taken your preferences into consideration, she hadn’t brought you coffee again since her first odd attempt to bring you a drink. You accepted it this time, however. The first time felt more like an order. These times with tea felt more like offers. Besides, like I’m turning down a bomb cup of tea.

Himeno’s blue eyes twinkled in surprise, “Makima’s getting you tea?” The disbelief in her tone was less than subtle. “I guess you two are finally starting to get along better.”

“I wouldn’t say we didn’t get along before, we worked together just fine.” You racked your brain trying to find the best explanation. ‘We just had a mutual disinterest in one another’ seemed too harsh. “We just weren’t really trying to be friends before.” Not that you could confidently say you were friends even now. Are we?

Yet even as you thought that, there was something different to your partner that you couldn’t quite place. She seemed… relaxed somehow, if that was the right way to put it.

You didn’t want to completely delude yourself into thinking you were receiving some kind of special treatment. Regardless of her relationships with your living coworkers, you didn’t know anything about Makima’s relationships with her previous partners. Still you had the distinct feeling that the woman wasn’t the type to buy tea for someone she didn’t care for. Nanaka had been working at the Bureau for nearly two years and Makima hadn’t brought her anything.

What was with the time with coffee then? You stamped your name at the end of a document. It isn’t like I need an official friendship license from her but-

A thoughtful hum from Himeno swept you away from your thoughts. “I suppose that’s good. I hope this new buddy of mine’ll bring me drinks without me asking.” The next sip had the tell-tell sign of being filled with nothing but ice. Himeno continued to act blasé and, out of respect, you did the same. You weren’t sure how many partners the devil hunter had, you only knew they never seemed to last long.

You could only wish Himeno luck that this partner assignment would be different.

“I need a vacation. Maybe up north to Hokkaido this winter, I wanna see that snow festival in Sapporo.” Himeno sighed listlessly. “I need a change of scenery from home tonight too, but I don’t wanna go to my sister’s. She’s more worried about me than usual right now.”

“Wanna crash at my place for the night then?” You had finally moved from company housing into your own apartment. Himeno had been to the company provided apartment you had once before after you’d gone drinking with some other devil hunters. Invitations for Himeno to spend the night at your place were now only applicable as long as she was sober.

“If I did that, you wouldn’t let me get any sleep, [First].” Your friend winked.

“I’d let you get a little sleep, Hime.” You winked, pointing your pen at her.

Himeno gave you a light shove and squealed jokingly. “[First]! That isn’t talk for the office.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.” You giggled in return, signing the last of your paperwork as Himeno wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “But seriously though, if you wanna avoid your sister for a night, you can crash at my place if you-”

“[First].”

The two of you jolted out the sudden calling of your name. “Jeez, Makima warn a guy first!” You groaned, sighing as your heart rate slowed. You shot your partner a dirty look but it withered when you took notice of the dead-eyed glare pointed back at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look this pissed.

Makima’s eyes raised from your shoulders to your eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”

Himeno slid off your shoulders with a sheepish grin. “Morning, Makima.” She chuckled, clearly perturbed. “We were just goofing off, don’t mind us.”

Makima’s eyes drifted to you and you nodded, “I was just finishing up my paperwork and Himeno was keeping me company.”

“I see.” The corners of Makima’s lips turned upwards slightly but the rings of her eyes seemed colder than ever. “I just came to tell [First] it was time for us to head out on our patrol. Maybe you can goof off together next time.”

“Er, yeah.” You placed your paperwork, finished in the nick of time, to the side. “I’ll be right there, just give me a second.”

Himeno shot you a look that clearly read: What the hell’s wrong with her?

Girl, I don’t know. You shot back. If looks could kill would be an understatement, what happened to make Makima so upset in the first place? Even when the higher ups really had sticks up their asses, Makima never seemed phased. Nor did she ever seem particularly bothered when her weird bossy streak with you hadn’t gone her way.

What was so different about today?

Himeno waved you off when you were ready to leave, “have a good patrol.” She tossed your empty cup into a garbage bin. “I’ll go to one of those cool capsule hotels and shake things up tonight.”

With a wave of your own, you bid your friend adieu. You turned, finding Makima waiting for you expectantly. You expected her to be strolling down the hallway by now. You shared a quiet look, feeling as if you were being observed. Makima broke contact first as she finally led the way out of the building.

Now this… is an awkward silence. You pressed your lips into a line as people and cars alike passed you by. You glanced at Makima curiously, contemplating the reason for her upset. “You alright?” Your curiosity eventually won you over.

“What do you mean?” Your partner asked in response.

“You just seem…” you wondered what was the best way to put it. “Upset right now. Did something happen with the higher ups? Or is it a personal thing?”

Makima spared you a glance after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t realize you and Himeno were so close.”

That was the last thing you were expecting to come from Makima’s lips.

“I guess we’re pretty friendly. I go drinking with her and some of the others in her division sometimes.” Less than half the people from that first drinking party were still around now. “It’s a fun time if you ever go but just be careful about letting Himeno have one too many.” You always carefully stopped after two, Himeno was a bottomless pit who drank past her limits. Needless to say, you became one of the many devil hunters Himeno had drunkenly kissed.

Regardless, nothing had spoiled between you both.

You pursed your lips for a moment. “I’m not too much of a drinker. I know that work-drink culture is a big thing here in Japan, but I try not to do it too much especially if Himeno’s already been throwing it back.”

“Does she come to your home often?”

“Not particularly?” You answered truthfully. “She’s banned from coming over while drunk.” When you were still living in the company apartments, you had naively brought her over to sleep off her drinking. That night ended with her throwing up in your bathtub and falling asleep on the floor of your hallway. Never again. You shuddered. “She stops by every once and again but it’s usually me and my cats. You have any?”

“I have a few dogs.”

You gave Makima a look of appraisal. “You seem like a dog person, it makes sense.”

Compared to before, Makima’s mood seemed to shift into something more pleasant. “You seem like you would own cats.”

“Tell me about your dogs?” That simple question was what led to your discovery that Makima owned seven dogs, each named after a dessert she was fond of. You never would have pegged her for such an animal lover, nor were you sure how she always managed to keep her suits impeccably clean. Even after rolling over your clothes, you’d always find stray hairs that you missed hours after leaving your house.

When the conversation spilled into talking about your cats, you enthusiastically spared no details. Whether it was a dog, cat, fish or rabbit, you were sure any pet parent would agree coming home to them was one of the best feelings in the world. Your two were troublemakers to some extent. Bagheera would occasionally be a brat and knock over your pen if you didn’t pet him, you gave up trying to keep Tora from going onto the top of your fridge after a month of her developing the habit. You wouldn’t trade them for the world though. “You should come over and meet them some time.” You laughed at a memory of your cats sticking their paws under the door after you had the audacity to leave them behind. “If you don’t hate cats, I think you’d like them.”

Without missing a beat, Makima asked, “when can I come over?”

“You got any plans our next day off?” When her answer came back negative, you nodded in self-assurance. “Then if you got the time, swing on over to my place. We can eat or something, I haven’t had anyone over to this new place yet.”

Something about that statement made Makima’s eyes seem brighter. “I look forward to being the first.”

“I love my cats but I gotta give the disclaimer,” you remembered before you got too ahead of yourselves. “Tora can be pretty skittish when it comes to new people, so she might run off when she sees you. Her brother loves people though, so you have nothing to worry about with him.”

Makima was unperturbed by your revelation. “I’m quite good with animals.”

That was the same thing Himeno said before Tora promptly hid under your bed the rest of her first stay. But you didn’t see a reason to burst Makima’s bubble when she actually seemed excited to come over. “Alright, I’ll provide the dinner. You provide the movie.”

“What movies do you like?”

“Surprise me.” You wondered what sort of movies a person like Makima would enjoy. “Is there anything you’d like for dinner?

“Surprise me.”

And surprised she would be, you swore, when you heard the knock on your door.

“Yo, welcome to my humble abode.” You greeted playfully as you swung open the door. Makima was pretty, that was an objective fact. Knowing that still didn’t prepare you for how taken aback you’d be by the pale pink wrap dress she was wearing. For once her hair was out of its usual braid, cascading down her shoulders in a sea of red. Makima was the exact definition of lovely.

“How do I look?” Makima’s voice pulled you out of your stupor.

“You look great, I feel so underdressed.” You weren’t dressed in your lounge clothes by any means, but you definitely weren’t dressed to impress anybody. Makima doesn’t seem like the type to even own sweatpants, why am I surprised she’d wear something pretty even to just hang out with a friend? You cursed your lack of awareness, knowing it was too late to suddenly change outfits.

“I like what you’re wearing, it’s best to wear something comfortable if you’re going to be cooking.” Makima sniffed the air lightly, “did you make carbonara? Carbonara and…”she paused for a moment. “steamed vegetables?”

“Damn how can you tell?” You clapped, impressed at her accurate guesses. “I also got everything to make affogato al caffe.”

Makima seemed quite pleased with herself, “I have a uniquely good sense of smell.” She pointed a slender finger at her nose. “I look forward to the dessert, I’ve only had affogato once.” She prepared to enter your house with the greetings finished, but you held a hand up before she could take a step forward.

“Ah ah ah.” you grinned mischievously. “What’s the movie?”

The last thing you were expecting her to hold was a Pulp Fiction DVD case. “I thought it would be fun watching this one, it’s a favorite of mine.” Her expressions morphed into one of questioning. “Are you a fan of crime movies? The storytelling is non-linear too.”

“No way, I love Samuel L. Jackson, we have to watch it.” You plucked the DVD from her small hands protectively. It was a classic Samuel L. movie you had yet to watch, it was time to rip the bandaid off. You stepped to the side with a noble bow. “You pass the movie check.”

It didn’t take long for your cats to take note of your guest. Bagheera made his way as you expected, eyes round with interest. Tora, unsurprisingly, kept her distance. “Tora,” Makima kneeled, hand waiting for the younger of your two cats expectantly. Her other hand brushed Bagheera’s chin lightly. “Come here.”

“She doesn’t really…” You left your sentence unfinished as you watched in awe as Tora bound forward, rubbing her head against Makima’s hand lovingly.

“What is it?” Makima asked as if she hadn’t easily gained the affection of your most fearful cat.

“I’m just surprised,” you relayed, still finding it unreal as your calico-tabby pressed her head into Makima’s hand once more. “Tora usually isn’t the best around people, usually just runs off immediately when she realizes someone else is in the house. Her brother’s the friendly one, which… you already knew.” And yet, this time your black tom wasn’t alone in his purrs and bunts as he indulged in your partner’s attention.

Amusement glinted in Makima’s eyes. “I did mention I have a way with animals, didn’t I?”

“Well excuse me for being a naysayer.” You roll your eyes with a snort. “Tora, you turncoat. You’re both being put up in my room while we eat.”

Makima shook her head, “it’ll be fine.”

“Trust me, Tora will not let you eat in peace.”

“You’ll let us eat in peace, won’t you, girl.” Makima booped Tora’s nose lightly.

And somehow, Tora did. Dinner was pleasant, the affogato was delicious and both your cats behaved like angels as you watched Pulp Fiction on your couch. Bagheera I can understand but Tora? Is this even my cat right now? You were convinced this had to be some sort of witchcraft, but your thoughts subsided as you fell deeper into the movie.

“Look, if you wanna play blind man go walk with the shepherd,” Jules said in annoyance as you glanced at the woman beside you with a feeling of satisfaction. Bagheera laid on her lap, purring softly while Tora snoozed close by. Then your phone rang, killing the pleasant atmosphere.

“Sorry, I just need to make sure this isn’t important.” You excused yourself while Makima paused the film, walking towards the kitchen. “Hello?”

“[Firrrst].” You released an immediate sigh of exasperation when you recognized the voice, drunkenly slurred and all. “I don’t wanna have to call my sister to pick me up.”

“Oh god, Himeno, how much did you drink?!”

Himeno sounded too noble for her own good. “A lady never gets drunk, she sips.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “And I’m over how they killed off Morris Chestnut in Anaconda 2.” You replied sarcastically, fighting back a grin at the sound of your friend’s giggles. “Just call your sister, you dumbass. Please tell me you’re not by yourself.”

“I’m at the restaurant still.” Himeno slurred and you sighed in relief. “Can’t I come over?”

“I have,” at the burning sense of staring on your back, you looked over at your guest to see her looking back at you. Just another second. “company over. Besides, you threw up in my bathtub at my old place last time. Come over when you’re sober.”

“You gonna keep me up all night then if I do?” Himeno hiccupped.

“Proposition me when you’re not drunk out your mind, I’ll do all the stuff you heart desires with breakfast included.”

“Can you just make me breakfast now?” Himeno whined and you hoped that she

“Himeno, if you don’t get off the phone with me and call your sister to pick you up. Look, what restaurant are you staying at? I’ll send over a cab to get you-”

“No, no, I’ll call her. I just needed a pep talk.”

“Good.” You released a breath of relief. The last thing the streets of Tokyo needed was a drunk devil hunter getting picked off because a devil spotted an opportunity. “Try not to drink so much next time? I’m gonna call to make sure you actually got home with your sister just fine.”

She’s like a maelstrom, you hung up the phone. “Sorry about that.” You beamed sheepishly as you made your way back to the couch. “Friends, am I right?”

“It’s fine.” You weren’t convinced with the way Makima’s small smile adopted its usual forcedness.

“… you sure you’re alright?” You asked after neither of you pressed play on the remote.

“Don’t…” Makima cut off her sentence as quickly as it began. She pet Bagheera’s head as if her life depended on it and it crossed your mind that even someone like Makima could feel nervous. “I don’t like it when you make those sorts of jokes.” She said at last as if it were a struggle to find the right phrasing. “The ones you make with Himeno.”

“Oh- I’m so sorry.” You apologize immediately the moment you recognized the jokes that were being referenced. “I didn’t realize I was making you uncomfortable. I’ll tell Himeno too, alright?”

At the pause, you felt that wasn’t a satisfactory response. “Makima?” You waited a moment. “I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me everything that’s wrong.” You sat closer than you previously sat to the redhead. Frustrated, that was the best way to describe the look on her face with her red eyebrows furrowed lightly.

“I don’t want you to make those jokes in general with anybody.”

Pretty dress, hair down.

You felt a sense of dread wash over you in your realization. “Is this a date?” When Makima’s eyes met yours, you already knew her answer. You wished you could throw yourself off a cliff.

“When I was invited over for dinner, I assumed that’s what this would be.” Dinner, a movie and of course you made dessert.

A date with Makima, that’s what this was. If someone told you when you first met, you’d be on one with her, you’d have thought they were drunk. Now that you were in this situation, you found yourself less bothered with it than what the past you would have expected. Makima was a beautiful woman, you weren’t blind to how she garnered attention from so many people. It had always simply been her attitude for you.

But this Makima, the one who enjoyed the company of your cats and enjoyed light banterー she was a Makima you’d be interested in dating.

No, what had you bothered now was the misunderstanding entirely. Makima was on Venus and you were on a different planet entirely.

“Please don’t consider this a real date, this shouldn’t count.” You pinched your nose in embarrassment. “Look, I’m a lot better at dates when I know I’m supposed to be on one. I need a date do-over.” Your friend wouldn’t call drunk, nor would you make jokes about sleeping with them. “Give me a chance to actually impress you. I don’t do boring dinner first dates, I make sure you have a good time. We could do… billiards!”

You were relieved that Makima seemed intrigued. “What do I get when I win?”

“Ohohoho, such confidence.” You snorted, light and amused. “What makes you think you’ll win?”

A lightness rolled off Makima in waves as she partook in your banter, “I’m a billiards champion.” The smile she gave reached her eyes.

The redhead looked more beautiful to you in that moment than she ever did in your entire time knowing her.

“Well in the very, very unlikely chance you win a round against me in a round of billiards…” You folded your arms, pretending to think deeply. “You get another date with me. And when I win, because I never lose,” you smirked loosely. “I’ll take you on another date. Equivalent exchange, win-win situation.”

As it turned out, Makima was a much better billiards player than you bargained for. Still, you got a date out of it.

One date.

Two dates.

Many dates you lost count of over the months. You were each other’s best kept secret, you didn’t want to incur the wrath that would come from Makima’s fans at the office if they knew you were dating her. You were sure the Rochas would be squealing with glee whenever they learned that pretty redhead did become your girlfriend. Oh they definitely won’t let me live that down. You chuckled to yourself as you placed a dish on the drying rack. “Custard, get that out your mouth.” You eyed one of the large dogs Makima called her own, chewing something you couldn’t see.

You groaned as the hound scurried away, mysterious piece of food in tow.

“Makima!” You called out for your girlfriend who was in her room watching Children of the Sea. “Can you get your dog?” When you got no response, you sighed. Custard, however, looked pleased as whatever she was eating had been happily consumed. Great. With a shake of your head, you turned off the kitchen light and headed for your girlfriend’s room.

It was Custard’s victory this time, you ceded as you peered into your girlfriend’s room. The film was at its climax with the odd yet pulling festival of rebirth.

You didn’t understand it when you first saw the film. It had you in the first half, with its promise of an ocean-themed coming-of-age movie from the protagonists. Then it devolved into visual acid with themes you couldn’t understand. Yet you watched it again and again, trying to figure out the meaning of the movie’s metaphors. Somehow you fell in love with it, you thought, as you watched a frantic Ruka swimming with no avail to Umi who dissolved into millions of galaxies feasted upon the sea life.

You couldn’t say you completely understood it beyond a vague feeling, but you loved it all the same. You found it funny how it mirrored the evolution of your relationship. You smiled to yourself, deciding to make your presence known and tell your girlfriend as much. “Need a tissue, Maki?” You teased gently.

She always cried watching this movie; you almost had a heart attack the first time. Makima didn’t look like the type to cry while watching film. She was surprisingly picky when it came to them, but when she found one she truly enjoyed, her reaction would be apparent. “Maybe Ruka’ll meet the boys in another life.” You wiped the corner of her eye, though the tears were quickly replaced with more.

“You shouldn’t tease your girlfriend when she’s crying,” you thought she’d sniffle.

“Nanaka would be upset to hear you talk to me like this,” you figured Makima would tease in return, dabbing away at her eyes with tissue.

When she did neither of those things, dimly staring into your eyes, you knit your eyebrows in concern. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You entreated anxiously.

“Make love to me. That’s an order.” Was the last thing you thought would come from your girlfriend’s lips.

“I- what? No.” The flick you gave to Makima’s forehead was soft. “I’m not gonna have sex with you when you’re crying, you dummy.” Your words were soft despite your gruff choice in words. Makima was a virgin, much to your surprise when she told you. Popular as she was, you figured that she would have been with someone. “I’m waiting for the right person. I didn’t want something meaningless for the first time, I want it to be intimate.” She explained and you left it at that, saying that you’d take things at her pace. “We’re not doing anything when you’re upset.” You looked at your hands aimlessly before turning off the TV and closing the door.

You counted to three, inhaling and exhaling briefly.

When you came back to her bed, you brushed away your girlfriend’s tears again before pulling her into your chest and lying on your side. You licked your lips nervously. “Listen I… I’m not the best when it comes to talking about emotions. I suck ass at comforting people. But I’m here for you, Makima. Whatever it is, I can accept it. You don’t have to tell me now but whenever you’re ready, you can throw it at me. I’ll be here.”

You didn’t ask what was wrong again.

Not while Makima’s small hands clutched the front of your shirt tightly.

Not as you rubbed Makima’s back in soft caresses, hoping it would calm her down.

“I like dating you,” Makima murmured into your shirt when she was able. “I want things to stay like this. I want things to be equal.” Where on earth was this coming from?

“I like dating you too,” you reassured, not wanting to stoke the flames of her insecurities. “I like what we have going on. Is there a reason you feel like things are unequal?” You tried searching for moments in your relationship as lovers that might have made her feel like the dedication and commitment wasn’t even. You stroked the back of her head, fingers lingering on the silky feeling of her hair. “If I made you feel like I wasn’t in this with you, I’m sorry. I just need to know where I messed up and how I can be better.”

“What if I was a devil?” The room felt too quiet with that question and you paused your ministrations.

“What kind of devil are we talking about?” You murmured as Makima gripped the front of your shirt tighter and you tightened your hold in return. “A Spider Devil? Cat Devil? A Who-Cares-What Devil?”

“Control Devil.”

You inhaled deeply before releasing your breath. The adoration from your coworkers, Tora’s abnormal behavior. Nothing came as a surprise in the moment. “I could live with that.”

“I’d always have devil tendencies.”

You whispered, “I can deal with that.”

“I might try ordering you.” Makima didn’t fight back as you peeled the fingers of her hand from your shirt.

“You can try that. I’ve denied plenty of your orders before, I’ll do it again.” You kissed her palm lightly before kissing her fingers. “I think I told you before I’d flick your forehead if you tried pulling some nonsense on me. I can’t say things would always be easy.” No, you definitely weren’t naive enough to believe that. Love was a choice. Parents chose to love their children even when they were being irredeemable brats. Couples chose to stay together during the hard times. This was simply another version of that. A big version.

This was a secret that could never be spilled. You were sure if your parents knew what would come of you becoming a devil hunter, they would have hid your passport. You weren’t even sure what introducing Makima to your family would look like even before her revelation.

And yet, and yet.

“But I wouldn’t leave you for being a devil.” You vowed simply. “You’re Makima either way and that’s who I want to be with for the foreseeable future. Some hiccups aside, I think what we have is pretty damn equal. You can’t dominate the indomitable.”

The two of you laid down in silence before Makima spoke quietly, “I can’t make equal relationships with people as the Control Devil.”

“You made one with me.” The calm Makima unraveled with your words and her body racked against yours. You simply held her throughout it, wondering about the life Makima had before this.

Who else knew about Makima’s true identity?

Why was a devil being employed to kill other devils?

How long had Makima been alone in this situation to become the detached individual you first became acquainted with?

Despite the many thoughts swimming in your head, you still felt resolutely the same. Had you been given the chance to go back in time, you’d have pursued the same path once more. You woke up the next morning feeling the same way as the morning sunlight disturbed your slumber.

“You asleep?” You ran your fingers through her hair softly.

“I’m awake.” Eyes still closed, Makima hugged you tighter. Even without seeing her face, you could tell she was smiling. One with warmth that reached her voice. “I’m just listening.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile yourself. “I didn’t take you for the sappy type.”

Makima raised her head. “I think you were the sappy one last night.” Her eyes were a bit pink from her crying, but she looked otherwise pleased.

She was stunning.

You placed a hand on her cheek, brushing away a stray hair with your thumb. “You’re beautiful when you smile. When you actually smile. I could always tell you were faking before.” Makima’s eyes closed but her smile remained as she leaned into your palm, one of her own hands cupping the one holding her. “Can I kiss you?”

“Will you make a contract with me?” Makima opened her eyes with a question. With her true identity exposed, you could see why her eyes were ringed. There was something pulling about them, like a hypno wheel meant to hypnotize unsuspecting volunteers of a hypnotist. Fitting for the Control Devil. You wondered what it was that made you so resistant to them when the majority of your coworkers couldn’t stop fawning over Makima the moment they laid eyes on her.

“What’s the contract you have in mind?

“I won’t use my power on you, in exchange, we have to stay together forever. We’ll eat a lot together, sleep together, and live a happy life together.”

A lifelong contractー the contract of a lifetime. There would be no outs after you agreed to it, if you agreed to it.

There was no doubt in your mind however, as Makima held her heart on a silver platter. You, the member of your family who became a devil hunter just to have an excuse to leave your home country.

“That sounds like a good contract to me.” You pressed your lips firmly against hers. Makima wrapped her arms around your shoulders with equal vigor. Her lips spread easily at the gentle slide of your tongue on her bottom lip and warmth pooled in your stomach as your kissing continued.

Wordlessly, you looked down at her and she wordlessly gave you her answer. The Control Devil relinquishing control; there had to be nothing scarier to her. But she still trusted you; that made your heart swell with love and adoration.

You peppered her breasts with wet kisses as you unbuttoned her shirt, a hand trailing down to lift her skirt and slip off her undergarments. Makima exhaled deeply as your fingers faintly touched her folds. You kept up this teasing until Makima pressed her legs together to prevent your hand from moving. She’s so wet.

“It’s not fair that you’re still in all your clothes.” She breathed, breath ghosting your lips. You chuckled quietly, kissing her as an apology before slipping off your clothes.

You moaned in unison as your clits rubbed together. It was the morning and you were staving off the last of your sleep, tribbing felt like it would be the best move to go with. All you wanted that morning was to feel Makima against you and even then as you felt her sex against yours, it wasn’t close enough.

Damn, I wish I had the strap. The day you could finally use it on her couldn’t come soon enough you thought as you ground your core against hers. Makima would be beautiful taking it, just as she was now, head thrown back in pleasure. You wanted to tease her, bringing the Control Devil to the precipice of pleasure before denying her release. You wanted to spoil her and give everything she wanted until society collapsed in on itself.

Makima’s hips bucked underneath you, moaning and mewling softly. You wanted to see her when she came. You circled her clit as you thrust yourselves against one another, chasing Makima’s release.

With a shudder, Makima came with your name on her lips and you tumbled over the edge with her after a few more thrusts.

Euphoria. That was what Makima was in as you kissed her cheeks and forehead, whispering sweet things in her ear. Pure, unadulterated euphoria. “You were so good for me.” You praised her. “I love you.”

Love.

Love she wouldn’t need her powers for.

Love based on equity.

Not the cheap imitations she received from Nanaka, Tsubomi and Akira. Nor the cold callous from the government officials that raised her. This was agapé. The love she saw in movies and novels.

You would stay together forever. You would eat a lot together, sleep together and live a long life together. That was the contract you agreed to.

“I love you, [First].” Makima held you closely as she came down from her high.

She loved you and you loved her.

Nothing could come between you both.

You smiled lazily as Makima regained her composure. “The next time we get time off, we should go on a vacation together.”

“Yes,” Makima smiled in return. “we should. A long vacation, just the two of us.”

It didn’t matter where, you just needed to be together. Nothing could be allowed to come between this bond. Not work, nor death. She’d follow you from this life to the next.

This was your contract.

Makima crossed her arms behind her back as she stared down the higher ups of the Tokyo Branch Bureau made with plastic and false pleasantries.

“You’ll let me leave the Public Safety Bureau with a large severance pay. That’s an order.”

part 2 ->

#romance dawn ー 🌅#chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #makima x reader #makima smut #series: man is a blazing star ー 💫

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x-gabrielle-x · 10 months ago

Text

Interlinked

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x Reader.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, major character death, blood, war.

Summary: Mattheo Riddle was hated by most, yet you saw more in him than what most could.

Mattheo Riddle knew that he wasn't the most approachable person out there, especially when more than half of the school referred to him as his father's son.

Besides his small group of close friends, anybody else was just another thorn in his side. He had come to learn that despite keeping his distance and reserved personality, he was still seen to be just like his father.

So of course, it was a shock to everybody when you had chosen to sit beside him in potions class away from your usual group of friends.

You hadn't said anything to him, merely sparing him a quick glance and small smile before you were placing your things down quietly onto the desk. He could see your friends in the corner of his eye gawking at you from across the room and silently waving you back over, one of them even going as far to call out to you, yet you paid them no mind and picked up your quill, scribbling down the notes written on the board before the professor continued on with the lesson.

He felt his gaze linger on you longer than he would've liked to admit, brows furrowed before he chose to let the silence thicken.

Mattheo knew then and there that this wouldn't be the last interaction he'd have with you.

It went on like this for a few more days. You coming into class and sitting directly beside him, showing him your bright smile that he desperately wished to hate despite the small warmth it gave him. At this point it became regular routine, and if you ever happened to be late for class Mattheo would ensure that your seat was kept empty.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you.

So once again when Mattheo caught himself staring at your bored expression in class, your head propped up onto the palm of your hand, he decided that for the first time it was time to break the silence.

"Not taking any notes today?" He couldn't help to hide the growing grin on his face when your head nearly snapped toward him, eyes wide as if you were checking that he was in fact talking to you.

You leant back further into your seat, shrugging as you turned to fully acknowledge him whilst also being discreet from the Professor as to not get caught.

"I'm just not really in the mood for it, I guess," you shrugged, giving him a small smile. "It's pretty basic stuff, anyways," you added.

He grinned once again, although this time he put no effort into hiding it. "Of course, one of the best students in class calls it 'basic.'"

He didn’t fail to notice the way your eyes lingered on his smile. He never smiled, really. Maybe the occasional half lipped smile to his few friends he had, but to you, it felt natural. Meaningful.

"It could be basic to you too, if you took notes and gave the lesson your full attention," you teased him, nodding to the board.

"Unfortunately, my attention is elsewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, and despite your attempt at hiding it, Mattheo noticed the obvious blush dusting your cheeks when he flashed you one last smile.

In truth, Mattheo wasn't awful at potions class at all. In fact, he found it to be one of his best subjects. He would never admit that to you, though. Not if it meant that you could continue to tease him about it.

The both of you quickly went silent when Professor Snape turned your way, eyeing mainly Mattheo for a second before he continued to pester poor Neville about what chapter to read from.

Small conversations would be thrown back and forth between the two of you, and Mattheo being himself, of course threw in many flirtatious comments, addicted to the way you'd attempt to change topic and hide the nervousness from him.

It didn't take long for him to realize he was craving for your attention every chance he could get. He found himself looking for you in the corridors and in the main hall when he happened to be walking with his friends, and it didn't fail to go unnoticed by them when his usual bored demeanor would instantly change when talking to you.

You would catch his attention with a bright smile and wave, before your friends were quickly pushing you away to giggle about the situation.

After practically begging you to help him study for the upcoming potions test, despite him not needing the help, he was insistent on getting to spend more time with you.

When you were both sat in the library with the few books you had brought over, Mattheo found himself watching as you concentrated hard on what you were explaining to him, with your brows furrowed and your eyes darting along each printed word on the page. Only it didn't last long when you suddenly closed the book and looked at him expectantly.

"You could at least pretend to be a little more interested, Riddle," you had teased when you discovered he hadn't been listening to you, earning a small chuckle from the boy sat across from you.

"Would it be a surprise to you that something else had taken my interest?" was all he said, watching you closely for a reaction. He caught the slight blush dusting your cheeks.

"You're funny, Riddle." You quickly turned away from him and picked up your book, opening to a random page to save you from the embarrassment of his words. You knew that he had you wrapped around his finger, and he loved it.

Christmas holidays had come, and of course the two of you were sad to go. The many bickering conversations and your smile would have to wait until next year.

"I'll send owls whenever I can, I better get some back, Riddle," you had said, throwing one of your jumpers into your bag as Mattheo sat watching from the common room couch.

He rolled his eyes at the comment, as if it were impossible to do so. "You'll be missing me that much, Princess?"

He caught you halting your movement, and you looked at him.

"Would it be a boost to your ego if I admitted I would miss you?"

He pretended to ponder, but he couldn't hide the grin on his face. "Not entirely sure, I guess were going to find out."

You rolled your eyes once more and zipped up your bag. "Then if it makes you feel better, I will miss you, Mattheo."

Nothing felt it had sunk in until you were stood on the platform to the train, Mattheo at your side and bags in hand. You would both be going to your homes, and the several months of friendship the two of you had built together would not make it easy for the next few to come.

Your father had insisted to pick you up himself, claiming he couldn't wait long enough for the train to arrive. Unfortunately, this would mean Mattheo would go by train alone.

So, when the both of you were saying your final goodbyes, of course it had surprised him to feel your lips press against the corner of his mouth.

You patted his cheek twice, to which he just silently gawked at you.

"See you soon, Theo," you smiled before turning away to find your father who was waiting somewhere nearby.

He watched you walk off, and without another thought he was turning on his heel and stepping on to the train.

Then he was gone.

Mattheo never sent a letter, and the months seemed to drag on the longer you waited. Every day you would run outside of your family home to check the mail, expecting, hoping, to see that he finally sent you a message. You couldn't deny the embarrassment every time you opened the mailbox to see it empty. Your hope was fading, but still, there was the smallest tinge of hope left deep in you.

You thought that maybe you were overthinking things too much. He did say he had plans for the holidays, after all. Your owl would wait by the window ready for you to clip another letter to her neck once again and fly off the moment you opened the window. No matter how many times you would send a letter, deep down you knew you wouldn't receive one back.

When school was finally about to start up again the coming week, you were beyond excited to see Mattheo again, despite the fact of his lack of letters. You were sure there was a reasonable explanation!

As he sat in one of the carriages in the train, his eyes zoned out of the window and watching the fog clouding the terrain, his memories flooded back in and for a moment he swore he felt a sharp sting on his forearm. Glancing down at the Dark Mark printed pure black, he remembers the exact moment his father had pressed the tip of his wand to his flesh and the searing pain that followed.

He felt as if the holidays had been the slowest they'd ever been. Being stuck in the same building as the Dark Lord feels like that, he concluded.

He was drawn away from his thoughts when he heard the carriage door slide open, and he wasn't surprised to see your face peeking in through the door with your usual smile, only it was brighter than he'd ever seen it.

Despite him not sending you letters; you were beyond happy to see him again.

Ignoring your excitement, you met his gaze and gestured to the seat across from him. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Truthfully, he wished for some alone time to dwell on his thoughts. He didn't need you or anybody else trying to strike up conversation with him, especially after he had been mostly ignoring your letters and leaving them stranded in piles upon his desk. The slight annoyance began to bubble in his chest, yet he gave a curt nod and continued to stare out the window.

You seemed to have caught onto his behavior, the awkwardness settling in once you closed the door behind you and watched in silence.

Your mind was swarming with questions you desperately wished to ask him - What did he do during the holidays? Why was he acting like this? Did he miss you?

You inhaled a breath before asking the question you had been craving to ask the most.

"You never sent me any letters over the holidays?" You regretted mentioning it the moment the words slipped your lips, and you bit the inside of your cheek when you heard a deep inhale come from Mattheo.

"Things get busy," was all he said, and the pang in your chest that followed caused for you to try think of anything else. He refused to look at you, and that only made the pang worsen.

"Oh, that's alright," you nodded, teeth pressing deeper into the skin of your bottom lip. "What did you do over your holidays?"

Mattheo shrugged, and you wished that he could just meet your eye the longer he stared blankly out the window.

"Nothing of much importance."

His bluntness to you confused you. Never had Mattheo attempted to be so short and bored with you, even when you were both at the awkward stage of just becoming friends. You took it as a sign to sit in silence the rest of the train ride back to Hogwarts, feigning it'll be back to normal once you're both settled into the regular routine again.

The longer the days passed at Hogwarts, the more Mattheo found himself hating your presence. You were always there - always following him like a lost puppy or trying to strike up conversation. He didn't want you here. Not at the moment. He couldn't.

You didn't fail to realize this either, firstly it being small things like the previous conversation on the train a few weeks ago. But then you found that Mattheo was physically avoiding you, changing seats to be on the opposite side of the class, leaving the dining hall whenever you attempted to sit with the rest of your friends. He never saved your seats anymore; even going as far as to make sure he was sat between other classmates to avoid you being near him.

You did miss him, but you also weren't one to push boundaries. Especially when it came to somebody you cared about as much as him.

You had tried to give him space, tried to give him time to come to you, but your own emotions were clouding, and you just wanted your old Mattheo. You had made sure to find Mattheo when he was alone, gently tugging on his arm and pleading for him to talk to you.

"Can't you just fuck off already? I don't need you here. You're a constant pain, how don't you see that?! I thought you would have gotten the hint ages ago!" He'd practically screamed in your face, and you had never felt more mortified than you did right now.

"Thats not what I'm trying to do at all, Theo-"

"You need to leave me the fuck alone, Y/N!"

He hated you. He hated you for making him feel this way. It was your fault. for making him care about anything in the first place, and it was your fault that he despised you for it. And most of all, he hated you for making him love you.

He could never forget the look on your face when he stood beside his father at the war, the tears seeming as if they were rivers along your dirty cheeks, cuts littering your body. Despite all that, in your pain seeing him, he still wondered how you had managed to stay beautiful even in these circumstances. Even with the blood from your wounds, you seemed like the brightest person here.

He so desperately wished to reach out a brush away the bloodied strands of hair away from your face, to apologies for everything. He couldn't stand the way your heartbroken gaze was practically burning into his soul.

Then the flash of green and a heavy thud echoed.

He hadn't even registered the war around him as he darted forward, tripping over his own legs as he dropped to his knees and cradled your body. He couldn't even hear his own wails and sobs over the screaming of his classmates.

He wished he hadn't looked down to the sight of you in his arms, because as soon as he did, he felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest. Your body was limp against him, your head lulled back to which he carefully readjusted his body to keep his arm supporting your neck. He could barely see with the tears cascading down his face and blurring his vision - some even dropping down onto your cheek and rolling off the slopes of your jaw. He quickly whipped it off with his thumb.

This couldn't be how you last remembered him, could it? He was pressing his forehead to your cold one the longer the seconds passed.

"You’re not leaving me, Princess, ok?" he was mumbling to you in your ear despite his sobbing. Deep down he knew you were gone, but the lingering hope that you'd flutter your eyes open and smile back up at him was haunting to him. He couldn't resist but to shake your shoulders in hopes that it would be true. "You need to get up now! It's dangerous," he cried longer, and in that moment, he couldn't care less what happened to him beyond that point, because the one thing he truly cared about was now gone.

He would never hear your voice again, your lips pressed against his, or your smile that he secretly wished to see every day. He wished that he could feel your hands running along his hair comfortingly as you whispered sweet nothing to him.

He would never be able to tell you that he did, in fact, read every single one of your letters. That he wished to write back. That he wished to see you every second of the day.

Your last memory of him would instead be of how he betrayed you. Left you, and fought against you in the war. Scared and broken because of him.

It was truly all gone, and he had never hated himself more in that moment.

#x reader #au #Harry Potter #Harry Potter x Reader #Hogwarts #Mattheo Riddle x Reader #Tom Riddle #Mattheo x Reader #theo x reader #Slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #blaze zabini #theodore nott #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson

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miniaturecollectiveendermen · 11 months ago

Note

hihi! hope you’re doing well :)

i was wondering if you could write headcannons for phoenix drop high Gene, Garroth & Blaze with a popular reader? like reader is well known in phoenix drop high, super energetic, kind and captain/leader of a big sports team/club? maybe just general headcannons (including how the two get together?)

tysm <33

A/N: i had a lot of fun writing this!! im sorry it took a while, i was sick when the request was sent and got sick again in the middle of writing im good now - for the most part at least

i hope you enjoy read this! :3

!! WARNINGS !! i feel like PDH!gene needs a warning of his own, gn!reader, you/your pronouns used

Gene:

You were the volleyball club president, the cheery type who had a knack for making friends.

Gene is in no way fond of the popular types; so then why did you catch his attention?

Why does his heartbeat pick up when he sees you smile, when he hears your laugh?

Gene is a selfish person, he takes what he wants - and in this case he wants you.

He considered trying to find something to blackmail you with, and get you to join the shadowknights.

But you always had people around you, and everyone knew what he was like, so there was no way they'd let him pull you away for a private conversation.

But he found himself with the perfect opportunity one day after school.

Your teammates had other obligations they needed to attend to; this left you to put away the equipment.

He dismissed Sasha and Zenix (mainly Zenix as he had a tendency to speak without thinking).

He approached you, and offered to help clean up.

It was almost unnerving how nice he was being - you may have been a friendly person but you weren't stupid. you knew he was planning something.

You chose to be nice to him, but you kept your guard up.

Time passes and you guys finish cleaning up, you say goodbye to Gene, and leave.

Only after you leave does he realize he didn't even bring up you joining the shadow-knights.

He just spent time with you, talking and hanging out like you were old friends.

This is the first thing that made him question his plan.

PDH gene is by no means a good person - but even he has some morals.

After this you would say hello to him in passing and make small talk - again acting like you two had been friends for years.

You were just too sweet, and it chipped away at him.

Eventually he completely forgot about forcing you to join the shadowknights.

Although you weren't a shadowknight, you were friends.

And not just with him, you were nice to Sasha and Zenix too.

Sasha had gotten rather attached to you, and although Zenix would rather die than admit it - he quite liked having you around.

Of course other people questioned why someone as sweet as you would be friends with them. Were you being forced?

you would always respond with “they're actually really nice” - Which no one believed of course.

But Gene quickly shut down all the questions, and no one really wanted to get on his bad side; so they stopped asking you about it.

Your relationship with Gene slowly changed, you two never acknowledged it.

but you both knew you weren't just “friends” anymore.

Gene isn't the type to be explicitly romantic or loud with his affections - he's more subtle about it.

He asked you out in a very casual way - you two were hanging out at his house.

You were scrolling on your phone absentmindedly while he was playing a game, when he suddenly asked:

“Do you wanna go to the coffee shop this weekend?” “Sure!” “It's a date then.”

No beating around the bush with this man.

It's an interesting dynamic between you two - but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Garroth:

Garroth is a naturally charismatic and sociable person.

This, along with him being the baseball team captain, meant it was only natural for Garroth to be well acquainted with other sports captains.

You were the track and field team captain.

Much like Garroth you were charming and peppy, and had a tendency to naturally draw people to you.

On the first day of the new school year, you were tending to the track and field club’s stand.

Some other club leaders asked for your help; because of this a handful of nearby freshmen got the impression that you were helping with everything, and not just your own stand.

You were happy to help, but you didn't anticipate being suddenly surrounded by a large group of over-excited freshmen who kept talking over each other.

You tried to help them all, but it was getting overwhelming.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Garroth redirected the freshmen to the mentors - he also offered to help out with the track and field stand.

He wasn't very busy with the other members tending to the baseball stand.

You gladly accepted his help - although you and Garroth were friendly before this, you weren't very close.

After this day your friendship blossomed; the two of you would often spend free time together and even help each other with team captain responsibilities.

If either of you had a match, the other would be sure to come and cheer.

With the two of you being as popular as you were, it was only inevitable for rumors to start about you two dating.

Garroth brushed it off and acted as though he wasn't affected by the silly rumors - but that wasn't really the case.

Truthfully he had been harboring feelings for you for some time, and these rumors gave him a chance to see how you'd react to the idea of you two dating.

He did sometimes flirt with you, but played it off as a joke causing you to respond with joking flirtation of your own (was it really a joke tho).

When you didn't seem opposed to the idea, his heart jumped out of his chest.

He took the first chance he got and asked you out.

He's so cute guys I love him.

Blaze:

You had been the tennis team captain for over a year - your popularity grew along with the tennis club as you led the team to win many matches.

had been receiving complaints by team members about a group of werewolves that kept stealing tennis balls in the middle of matches.

A few lost balls wouldn't be much of a problem, but they kept doing this until the players had none left.

You knew if you went to the werewolves responsible yourself the chances of them listening to you were little.

So you opted to go directly to the principal - so far she seemed a lot more competent than the previous principal, so you had hoped she'd be able to help you.

But these hopes were quickly diminished when she said she couldn't intervene as it was a “werewolf issue”.

You argued it was affecting the tennis club members who were human and meif'wa as well.

But she made some vague excuse about having a meeting and told you to talk to the werewolf studies teacher about it.

After having any and all hope in the new principal destroyed, you went off to find the werewolf studies teacher.

When you explained the situation to him he informed you that this was the responsibility of the “alpha” and he couldn't do much.

By this point you were getting very frustrated - you had to run all over the school to find someone to help, only for them to tell you that they couldn't do anything.

To your relief you were informed that the werewolf alpha was Aphmau (you decided to not ask why a human was the werewolf alpha).

You weren't super close with Aphmau, but you met her once when you and Katelyn were playing tennis - you’d had some friendly interactions since and you had hoped that she wouldn't dismiss you like the last two people.

You managed to find her as she was talking to a red haired werewolf - you had seen him around a few times. His name was Blaze if you remembered correctly.

She was friendly as usual when you approached her, but you noticed she seemed more tired and even a bit frazzled.

You explained the situation to her and she was very understanding, but you could see that just thinking about handling this made her look even more tired.

That's when Blaze interrupted and said he was happy to help, as aphmau had to focus on choosing an alpha male - whatever that means.

You were ecstatic, after all that running around you finally found someone who could help.

Blaze was very sweet- and although he was a tad clueless when it came to certain things, he certainly had the spirit.

You helped Blaze find the responsible werewolves and at first he was explaining to them that they shouldn't steal things that don't belong to them.

However after they were not very receptive to this, he took a more,, “hands on” approach.

You knew after going to this school for some time that werewolves would often solve conflict by fighting.

But you didn't expect blaze to throw the werewolves out the nearest window and then jump out after them???

You just wanted your team members to be able to practice in peace.. How did this happen-?

By the time that you reached downstairs where they were, the group of werewolves were standing in front of Blaze, looking down silently.

Blaze was grinning and looked very proud of himself - he seemed to be waiting for you to tell him he did a good job.

You didn't expect a 6’3 werewolf to be so.. Cute?

You thanked him for his help and told him he was welcome to play with the tennis team whenever he pleased.

In the following weeks your friendship grew - he would join your practice in his free time.

Although when he did it was mostly him chasing after the ball and forgetting he's supposed to hit it with the racket.

As you grew closer, Blaze started noticing that his feelings towards you were changing.

He always thought you were rather cute but he didnt think too deeply about it.

But his desire to be around you grew.

subtlety isn't Blaze’s strong suit - the second he realizes he has a crush on someone, he starts following them around everywhere and his affection grows tenfold.

He's a naturally affectionate person towards his loved ones, but you noticed that it's different with you.

One day you decide to ask him about it and he just looks at you and just flat out confesses.

He was under the impression that he was being quite obvious.

He's so <3333

I love him

Immensely

#aphmau mystreet #mystreet x reader #aphmau #mystreet #x reader #aphmau pdh #phoenix drop high #pdh x reader #gene x reader #pdh gene x reader #blaze x reader #pdh blaze x reader #garroth ro'meave x reader #garroth x reader #pdh garroth x reader #toasts requests #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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urdreamydoodles · 4 months ago

Text

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Realizing They Are Jealous

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

- Peter Parker has always told himself he’s not the jealous type. He knows better. He’s seen what obsession does to a person, how it corrodes and twists and turns something good into something dark. He swore he’d never be that guy, the one who grips too tight, who loses sight of what matters. And yet, as he watches some stranger lean in close, flashing a smile that’s just a little too confident, he feels it coil inside him—hot, sharp, unexpected.

- His fingers twitch, and he clenches his fists like he’s bracing for a fight, even though there’s no real battle here. Just words, just glances, just you laughing at something someone else said. And Peter—who has fought gods and monsters, who has lost more than he ever thought he could survive—finds himself standing frozen, drowning in something far more terrifying than any villain.

- He tries to be rational. Tries to remind himself that you’re not his, that he has no right to this feeling clawing at his ribs. But then your head tilts, your lips part in that familiar, effortless smile, and it hits him like a fist to the gut: he wants to be the reason you smile like that. He wants to be the only one.

- The moment passes, the stranger moves on, and Peter still can’t breathe right. He should let it go, should shake it off, but when you turn to him, bright-eyed and oblivious to the war raging in his chest, all he can do is force a grin and hope you don’t notice the way his voice strains when he speaks.

- Later, alone in his room, he presses his forehead against his hand and exhales shakily. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Because Peter Parker? He’s never been good at letting things go. And now, he doesn’t think he can let you go, either.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

- Tony Stark doesn’t get jealous. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. He’s been around the block too many times, seen too many people come and go, to let something as petty as jealousy get under his skin. He’s Tony Stark. He’s seen it all. So when he spots some smooth-talking nobody leaning into your space, flashing that kind of grin he perfected years ago, he should laugh it off. Should.

- But he doesn’t. Instead, there’s a flicker of something sharp and ugly curling in his chest, something possessive and unfamiliar. It’s ridiculous, really. He could have anyone, could fill a room with people hanging onto his every word, but none of them matter. Not the way you do.

- He swirls the whiskey in his glass, eyes narrowing as he watches the way you tilt your head, the way your lips quirk in amusement. It’s harmless, he tells himself. You’re just being polite. But his jaw tightens all the same, and suddenly, the ice in his drink isn’t the only thing cold in the room.

- He doesn’t make a scene. No, Tony Stark never needs to. Instead, he waits until you’re alone, leans in with a smirk that’s just a little too sharp, and says, “Didn’t know you had a thing for guys who wear cheap cologne.” You roll your eyes, laughing, but there’s something in his voice that makes you pause. Something raw beneath the bravado.

- Later, when you’re gone, Tony leans back against his chair, rubbing a hand down his face. Damn it. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. But now that he does, now that he’s seen what it would be like to lose your attention, he knows one thing for certain—he’s not going to let that happen again.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

- Steve Rogers likes to believe he’s patient. He’s fought wars, survived decades of loss, and carried burdens most men would crumble under. He’s not impulsive. Not reckless. He’s better than that. Or at least, he thought he was—until now.

- The sight of someone else standing too close to you, their voice too low, their gaze lingering just a second too long—it sparks something in him, something old and primal and dangerous. His fingers tighten around the coffee cup in his hands, his jaw locking as he forces himself to breathe.

- He knows he has no claim on you. No right to this feeling twisting inside him. But that doesn’t stop the way his chest tightens, the way his pulse kicks up in something too close to fight-or-flight. He’s fought wars, but this? This is different. This is personal.

- He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t stake a claim—Steve isn’t the kind of man to do that. But when you finally turn away from the conversation, when your eyes meet his across the room, there’s something there—something in the way he looks at you, steady and unyielding, that makes your breath catch.

- And maybe, just maybe, you see it too. The truth of it. The confession that lingers in the space between you, unsaid but undeniable. Steve Rogers is a patient man. But even he has his limits. And when it comes to you? He won’t let someone else take what should have been his.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

- Thor Odinson does not know jealousy the way mortals do. He does not simmer in silence, does not let resentment fester like a slow-growing storm. No, when Thor feels, he feels. And right now, he feels the weight of something heavy, something possessive, something undeniable.

- He watches as another person captures your attention, as their voice fills the air where his should be. And though he does not doubt your loyalty, though he knows the strength of his own heart, something inside him rumbles. A warning. A storm brewing on the horizon.

- He does not shrink. He does not sulk. Instead, he acts. With slow, deliberate steps, he crosses the room, placing himself at your side with the ease of a warrior reclaiming his place on the battlefield. “Ah, my friend,” he says, voice rich with warmth, though his grip on his hammer is just a fraction too tight. “Are you enjoying my beloved’s company?”

- The title slips from his lips before he can stop it. Beloved. It is instinct, raw and unfiltered, and when you glance at him in surprise, he meets your gaze without hesitation. There is no retreat, no denial—only the thunderous certainty of a god who knows what is his.

- And in that moment, as realization dawns in your eyes, Thor Odinson understands—there is no turning back from this. And by the gods, he does not want to.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

- Loki is not a fool. He sees things others miss, reads between the lines of every conversation, every fleeting glance. He is a god of mischief, a master of deception. And yet, for all his cunning, he did not see this coming.

- He did not expect to feel the sharp sting of jealousy as someone else’s words make you smile. He did not expect the coil of irritation tightening in his chest as he watches you lean in, drawn into a conversation that is not with him. And above all, he did not expect the slow, creeping realization that follows: he cares.

- The thought unsettles him. Love, affection—these things are not meant for him. He has been cast aside too many times, burned by his own foolishness, by the cruelty of fate. And yet… here you are, undoing him with nothing but a laugh that isn’t even meant for him.

- He does not confront it, not directly. Instead, he sidles up beside you, his presence a whisper of silk and shadows, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “Surely, you do not find them that charming?” The words are laced with amusement, but his fingers twitch at his sides.

- And when you turn to him, curiosity flickering in your gaze, he holds it—holds you—longer than he should. He will not admit it. Not yet. But the seed has been planted, and gods help him, he does not know if he has the strength to pull it free.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

- Clint Barton isn’t the type to take himself too seriously. Life’s too short, and his luck’s too bad for that. He rolls with the punches, cracks a joke when things get tough, keeps it light—because that’s what keeps him sane. But watching someone else flirt with you? Yeah, that’s not funny.

- He tells himself he doesn’t care. You’re not his, you don’t owe him anything, and really, it’s probably his own damn fault for never making a move. But still, there’s this tightness in his chest, a slow-burning irritation curling in his stomach, and suddenly, he’s gripping his drink a little too hard.

- He could walk away. Should walk away. But instead, he lingers at the edge of the room, watching, waiting, fingers tapping against his thigh like he’s counting down the seconds before he does something stupid. And when you laugh at something that guy says? Yeah, that’s when he snaps.

- He doesn’t make a scene. No, Clint Barton is too smooth for that. Instead, he saunters over, slides an arm around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and grins at the guy like he’s already won. “Hey, sweetheart. Who’s your friend?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it. A warning.

- And when you glance up at him, confused but not pulling away, Clint feels something settle inside him. Something warm, something right. Maybe he’s been an idiot. Maybe he’s been avoiding this for too long. But he knows one thing for damn sure—he’s not letting anyone else steal what should’ve been his all along.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

- Natasha Romanoff is a master of control. Of reading a room, of keeping her emotions locked behind an unshakable mask. But this? This is unexpected. This burn in her chest, this sharp, cutting edge of irritation curling along her spine as she watches someone else pull you into a conversation that should be hers.

- She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t let a single crack show. But her eyes follow every movement, her fingers tapping an idle rhythm against her thigh, the only outward sign of the storm brewing beneath the surface. It’s ridiculous, really. You’re not hers. You’re free to do whatever you want. And yet…

- Yet, when you tilt your head, smiling at something they say, something inside her snaps. It’s subtle, barely there, but she moves—slipping through the crowd with effortless grace, coming to stand beside you, close enough that her presence demands attention.

- “Interesting conversation?” she asks, voice smooth as silk, but there’s something dangerous in the way she tilts her head, in the slight smirk playing at her lips. The person flirting with you hesitates, suddenly unsure, suddenly feeling like prey in the presence of a predator. And Natasha? She enjoys it.

- Later, when you’re alone, she leans in, voice softer now, more real. “You should be more careful,” she murmurs, fingers brushing yours. “Some people don’t deserve your attention.” And though she doesn’t say it outright, you hear the truth behind the words. She wants you for herself. And Natasha Romanoff always gets what she wants.

Bucky Barnes aka. The Winter Soldier

- Bucky Barnes has been through hell. He’s lost more than most, suffered in ways he doesn’t talk about, and rebuilt himself from the ground up. He knows better than to let himself get attached. But when he sees someone else standing too close to you, when he watches them steal your attention, something inside him goes cold.

- It’s not anger. Not exactly. It’s something deeper, heavier, a pressure in his chest that won’t ease no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. He doesn’t like this—this feeling of being on the outside, of watching you smile at someone who isn’t him.

- He clenches his jaw, looks away, tries to focus on something else. But then, as if the universe is testing him, he hears it—your laugh. Soft, genuine, warm. And it wrecks him. Because that laugh? It’s his favorite sound. And he doesn’t want anyone else to have it.

- He doesn’t move right away. He’s still figuring this out, still sorting through the mess of emotions he doesn’t know what to do with. But when you finally turn to him, eyes bright and unknowing, he meets your gaze and holds it. And for the first time, maybe ever, he lets the truth slip through.

- “Didn’t think I was the jealous type,” he admits, voice rough, words meant just for you. And when your lips part, surprised, he only smirks, shaking his head. “Guess I was wrong.”

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

- Matt Murdock is a patient man. He has to be. He’s spent his entire life walking the razor’s edge between control and chaos, between justice and vengeance. But this? This is different. This isn’t a courtroom battle or a rooftop fight—this is you, smiling at someone else, and it is unraveling him in ways he doesn’t expect.

- He can hear everything—the steady heartbeat of the person flirting with you, the subtle shift in your tone, the way your breath catches just slightly before you laugh. It’s innocent. Harmless. And yet, his grip on his cane tightens, his jaw locks, and he hates the way his pulse betrays him.

- He’s never been good at sharing. It’s not in his nature, not when it comes to things that matter. And you? You matter. More than he’s willing to admit. More than he should ever let himself believe.

- He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t step in. But when the conversation ends, when you finally come back to him, he tilts his head and murmurs, “They seemed… interesting.” There’s a sharp edge to his voice, something unreadable behind his glasses. And when you chuckle, brushing it off, he exhales slowly, forcing himself to let it go.

- But later, when it’s just the two of you, his fingers linger when they touch yours. His voice is softer, quieter when he says, “Just—don’t let someone else take what they don’t deserve, okay?” And though he doesn’t say it outright, you understand what he means. He wants to be the only one.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

- Frank Castle doesn’t get jealous. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Jealousy is for men who have something to lose, for men who still believe in the kind of love that doesn’t end in blood. And Frank? He doesn’t have that luxury.

- But then he sees you—sees them, standing too close, talking too smooth, and something inside him goes black. His blood turns to fire, his muscles coil tight, and suddenly, he has to remind himself not to break something.

- He watches. Silent. Dangerous. The kind of quiet that makes lesser men nervous, that turns a warm room cold. And when your laughter rings out, light and unknowing, Frank swears he feels something crack inside him.

- He doesn’t make a move. Doesn’t say a word. But when the conversation ends, when you finally turn and meet his eyes, there’s something dark and unreadable waiting there. Something that should scare you. But it doesn’t.

- Later, in the dead of night, he exhales smoke into the silence and mutters, “Should’ve killed ‘em.” And maybe he’s joking. Maybe he’s not. But either way, Frank Castle knows one thing for sure—he’s never letting anyone else think they have a chance with you. Not while he’s still breathing.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

- Marc Spector has always been a man of war. His heart is battle-worn, his soul stitched together by vengeance and duty. Love? Love is dangerous. Love makes you weak. But when he sees someone else’s hand resting just a little too long on your arm, when he watches their eyes linger on you the way only he should be allowed to—Marc feels something snap.

- It’s not a rational thing. No, it’s visceral, instinctual, an old wound torn open and bleeding jealousy into his ribs. His fingers twitch, his vision narrows, and for a brief, fleeting second, the weight of Khonshu’s will presses against his skull. Hurt them. Make them regret it.

- But then, you laugh—soft, unknowing, untouched by the storm raging inside him. And that’s what stops him. That’s what saves him. Because you don’t need his darkness. You deserve something gentler than him.

- So he stays where he is, jaw tight, fists clenched, shadows curling around his thoughts like whispers in the night. He doesn’t interfere. Not yet. But when you finally turn to him, oblivious to the war he’s fighting inside, his voice is low, rough, edged with something he doesn’t dare name.

- “Let’s go.” It’s not a request. And when you blink up at him, confused but willing, Marc exhales. You’ll never know just how close he came to losing himself for you.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

- Johnny Storm doesn’t do jealousy. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. He’s too cool for that, too charming, too damn good-looking to ever feel threatened. But the second he sees someone else trying to steal your attention, the easy confidence he’s built around himself starts to flicker.

- He keeps it casual at first—leans against the bar, crosses his arms, smirks like he’s just so amused by whatever’s happening. But beneath that cocky grin, his fingers tighten against the glass in his hand, and the tips of his ears burn hot.

- He tries to laugh it off. Makes a joke at your expense, something playful, something light. But when you don’t immediately turn back to him, when you keep talking to them, the flames inside him rise, licking at the edges of his restraint.

- “Okay, that’s cute,” he finally mutters, before striding over and slinging an arm around your shoulders with deliberate ease. His smile is bright, a little too sharp, as he looks the other person up and down. “You make friends fast, huh?”

- He plays it off well. Too well. But later, when you’re alone, he mutters, almost to himself, “Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to kill me.” And when you laugh, shaking your head, he exhales. Yeah, he’s in trouble. Big trouble.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

- Reed Richards has spent his life solving impossible equations, unraveling the mysteries of the universe, conquering the unknown with nothing but his mind. But this? This is a problem he doesn’t know how to fix.

- He sees you—sees them—standing too close, exchanging words he can’t quite hear over the noise of the room. Logic tells him he has no reason to react. You are not a variable in an equation he controls. And yet, the sharp sting of possessiveness coils in his chest, irrational and unrelenting.

- He tells himself to let it go. There is no scientific basis for jealousy. It is an emotional impulse, a flaw in human reasoning. And yet, his fingers tighten around the pen in his hand, his mind fracturing into a thousand calculations, each one ending in the same conclusion:

- He does not want to lose you.

- Later, when he finally speaks, it’s careful, measured, spoken in that calm, analytical tone that betrays nothing. “You seemed… engaged in that conversation.” It’s not an accusation, not quite, but when you tilt your head at him, curious, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s already lost the upper hand.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

- Felicia Hardy doesn’t do jealousy. She’s far too confident, far too aware of her own power, to feel threatened by someone else’s presence in your orbit. And yet, when she sees them flirting with you—sees their hand brushing your arm, sees your lips curve at whatever they said—she feels something sharp and territorial curl inside her.

- She doesn’t react immediately. No, Felicia Hardy is far too strategic for that. Instead, she watches, waits, lets them think they have a chance. And then, just when they start to relax, she makes her move.

- “Mind if I cut in?” Her voice is silk, smooth and effortless, her fingers trailing along your arm as she steps between you and the intruder. She doesn’t even have to look at them to know they’ve already lost.

- She leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, her voice dropping to something only you can hear. “Careful, kitten. You don’t want to get tangled up with the wrong person.” And when you shiver—when you look at her the way she wants you to—she knows she’s won.

- Later, as you walk together, she smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You should be more careful who you flirt with.” And when you laugh, shaking your head, she only grins wider. You were always going to be hers.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

- Stephen Strange has never been the kind of man to fear losing something. He has conquered the impossible, rewritten fate, bent the very fabric of reality to his will. And yet, when he sees you with them—sees you laugh, sees you lean in—he feels something disturbingly close to fear.

- He tells himself it’s illogical. That he has no claim to you, that what you do is none of his concern. But the words taste hollow in his mouth, and the air around him hums with restrained magic, with emotions he refuses to name.

- He doesn’t intervene—not at first. No, Stephen Strange is not a man of petty impulses. But when the conversation lingers too long, when he sees them touch your arm, he exhales sharply and moves.

- “I wasn’t aware we were entertaining guests.” His voice is even, his expression unreadable, but there is something unmistakably sharp in his gaze as he steps beside you. The other person stiffens. Good.

- Later, when you question him about it, he only lifts a brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the way his fingers graze your wrist, the way his magic lingers against your skin? It tells a different story. One he isn’t ready to say aloud. Not yet.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

- Namor is a king. A warrior. A god among men. He has no reason to feel jealousy, no reason to regard anyone as his competition. And yet, when he sees another lingering too close, their gaze trailing over you with something unearned, his blood boils.

- He watches, expression composed but dangerous, as they speak to you, as they dare to bask in your presence. Do they think they are worthy? Do they believe, for even a moment, that they can take what Namor has already claimed in his heart?

- He does not interrupt—not immediately. No, Namor is patient, calculating. He waits for the perfect moment, stepping forward with regal, effortless confidence, his presence alone enough to command attention. His fingers brush your arm, a deliberate, possessive motion. “My dear, surely you do not waste your time with this one?”

- His voice is smooth, edged with something sharp. The poor fool who thought they had a chance swallows hard, sensing the shift in the air. Namor does not need to fight for you. He simply reclaims what is his.

- Later, when you tease him about it, his only response is a slow, knowing smirk. “You belong at my side, and my side alone.” And when you see the certainty in his gaze, you realize—he’s not asking. He’s declaring.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

- Johnny Blaze has never been a man of peace. His soul is battle-worn, haunted by fire and vengeance. But nothing—nothing—burns quite like the sight of someone else trying to steal your attention.

- His jaw tightens, his grip on the edge of the bar going white-knuckled as he watches. He tells himself to let it go. He’s not the type to get jealous, right? But the Rider in his chest—the monster wrapped in fire and bone—growls in warning.

- He doesn’t make a scene. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves, slow and deliberate, stepping into the conversation like he was always meant to be there. His presence alone is enough to shift the atmosphere—dangerous, electric.

- He doesn’t glare, doesn’t threaten, but when his dark, firelit gaze locks onto the poor bastard who thought they had a chance, the message is clear. Back off. Now. And they do. Because everyone does, eventually.

- Later, when you ask if he was jealous, he scoffs, looking away. “Jealous? Nah. Just didn’t like their face.” But the way his hand lingers on your hip, the way his body hums with unspoken possession? Yeah, he’s a terrible liar.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

- Eddie Brock knows jealousy. It’s been his constant companion—festering, clawing at his insides long before the symbiote ever took root in his veins. But this—seeing you smile at someone else, seeing their eyes linger on you—it’s a different kind of ache.

- “We do not like this.” The voice slithers through his mind, low and possessive, the symbiote pressing against his ribs like it wants out. Eddie grits his teeth, his fingers flexing as he tries to shove down the urge to tear something apart.

- He tells himself it’s fine. You’re not his. Not really. But when that idiot reaches out—when their hand dares to brush against you—Venom surges forward before he can stop it. A dark, twisted growl bubbles from his throat, something inhuman.

- The poor bastard nearly jumps out of their skin. “What the hell was that?” they mutter, backing away as a shadow flickers over Eddie’s eyes. And when you glance at him, brow furrowed, he exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Dunno. Must be the wind.”

- Later, when Venom whispers, “We should eat them,” Eddie just mutters, “No, we shouldn’t.” But as you walk beside him, unaware of the war raging inside him, he wonders—what would it take for you to see that you’re already his?

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

- T’Challa is not a man ruled by petty emotions. He has been raised in the art of restraint, taught that a king must always remain in control. But when he sees another vying for your attention, when he watches their hand hover too close—his restraint is tested.

- He does not react immediately. No, he simply observes, his expression unreadable, his mind already three steps ahead. There is no need for outbursts, no need for crude displays of possession. T’Challa wins wars with patience and precision.

- And so, when the moment is right, he moves—effortless, calculated, undeniable. His voice is smooth as he steps into your space, his hand settling gently at the small of your back. “Forgive my interruption,” he says, gaze flickering to the would-be suitor, voice full of quiet authority. “But I believe I was promised this dance.”

- The other person falters, unsure, outmatched in a game they did not even realize they were playing. T’Challa does not need to fight for you. He simply reminds the world who he is.

- Later, when you tease him about it, his lips curve into something soft, something secret. “You are… precious to me.” And though he does not say more, the look in his eyes is enough. You are not just a passing fancy. You are a queen, and he will not let anyone take you from him.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

- Elektra is not jealous. Jealousy is for the weak, for the foolish, for those who lack the confidence to take what they want. But when she sees them—sees you—laughing at something someone else said, her knives feel heavier at her hips.

- She does not make a scene. No, Elektra is far too skilled in the art of subtlety for that. Instead, she watches, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Not with violence—not yet.

- When she finally moves, it’s with all the grace of a predator circling its prey. She doesn’t touch you, not immediately, but she steps into your space like she belongs there. And when she finally speaks, it’s a soft, amused purr—“Surely you don’t find them interesting?”

- Her hand traces your wrist, feather-light, but the weight of it is undeniable. She doesn’t even look at the other person. They don’t matter. They never did.

- Later, when you tell her she was jealous, she only smiles, slow and dangerous. “Jealous? No. But if they touch you again, I’ll consider sharpening my blades.” And something about the way she says it makes you wonder—was she joking?

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