#but also I will not be at all surprised if they do in fact run a very good inn and are actually the most popular inn in the Caribbean

[giorno-plays-piano]

Safe Haven

Pairing: Mr. Crawling x reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence and gore (only a few mentions), pure fluff, Mr. Crawling being a cutie pie.

Words: 1k

Summary: Despite the horrors you saw in the other dimension, bringing one of them home actually seems like a good idea.

P.S. To all of you who love soft!yanderes, I recommend playing Homichiper IMMEDIATELY

_________

"I'm home. "

You turn the lock on the door, smiling from ear to ear when you hear hurried steps paired with a "clack" of a cane. Goodness, he's getting faster with every day, you think as you watch a walking giant wrapped into a fuzzy white bathrobe emerge from the corridor. His impossibly long hair is loose and a little damp, and for a second, it feels he came straight from a horror movie. It makes you laugh.

"Dear!"

He almost runs into you, his cane clicking aggressively against the floor, and you giggle like a schoolgirl on her first date. His embrace feels so warm, his gentle hands rubbing your back as he kisses the top of your head.

Everything about him feels like home.

"I cooked a potato soup," he breathes out, excited to share his little news, "and baked a meat pie! And then I read a book. And then me take bath..."

He gets a little red when he realizes his old speech patterns are getting back, but you're quick to divert his attention, dropping a kiss to his nose. Poor man gets even redder and kisses you, too, immediately helping you take off your coat and giggling with embarrassment. He's one weird gentleman but a gentleman, nonetheless.

"I'm glad you had a good day," you wink at him, picking up your grocery bag. Today, you bought his favorite tea, and you know how excited he will get to brew it himself.

When you escape a hollow, depraved world, even the simplest of things will make you weep. Once you have returned to your apartment, barely alive and scared to your wits' end, making a cup of tea felt like a miracle. It's hard to imagine how bizarre the whole concept seemed to poor Mr. Crawling, who probably ate nothing but human or monster remains for as long as he was there.

You no longer speak of what happened in the monster realm. Needless to say, it took some time to come to terms with your little adventure and its outcome being a giant skinny monster now inhabiting your apartment. Not that you were all that bothered with the latter... Especially when you realized Mr. Crawling was not, in fact, a monster.

When you think of it now, it seems kinda stupid on your part. You were turning into one of those creatures yourself the longer you stayed there, and yet, somehow, it didn't click your lovely monster partner was human once. That he, too, had been a lonely soul who got stuck in that hellish limbo and had to transform to survive.

It was a huge surprise when he actually started speaking human language after of couple of days at your place. You first thought you misheard him.

Of course, it took him a long time to remember what it's like to be human: you've spent months gently nudging him in that direction, talking to him like to a child, showing him books and cartoons, turning on music and doing pretty much anything to help him turn back into his older self. Mind you, you also had to keep working to sustain the both of you, given you had no other income, and do the chores because Mr Crawling was absolutely clueless what to do. He was more of an in-house cat than a person at the time.

Still, it felt liberating when your monster partner finally started regaining his human memories and habits. You probably won't ever forget when he crawled to you, reaching out shyly to squeeze your hands in his, and mumbled, "M-me think... me think me called Gabriel..."

"Enough salt?" He nudges you gently, and you blink, coming back to your senses. His meat pie is so good it's really not the time to be reminiscing of the past.

You cover his large pale hand with yours as you smile, "It's perfect."

Embarrassed, he nods, looking into his own plate as you take another bite, wondering how lucky you got. Who else could have not only left another dimension filled with unspeakable horrors but also dragged the cutest of them with you?

Fed up with you stalling, he bends over to you and drops a kiss to your nose once more, letting out a high-pitched giggle. His black hair close around you like a curtain: you didn't have the heart to tell him to cut it. Now that he has become almost completely human, you somehow miss his monster appearance.

"I love you," you say all of a sudden, unable to keep it to yourself. Enveloping him in a hug, you press your face into his chest, listening to the subtle beating of his heart he had lost once. His bathrobe feels fuzzy and warm on your skin.

He says nothing at all, but in a second, he gently lifts you up from the kitchen chair only to put you down on his lap: despite turning human, he still remains ridiculously tall and strong. Not that you complain, melting in his embrace as he rubs his nose against your temple, his tender hand on your back. Against all odds, there's nothing you dislike about him. Even putting aside all his heroic acts to protect you in the other world, he seems like a pure, gentle soul who would always prioritize your safety and comfort above all else. You can't understand why he chose to help you the moment he saw you, but you don't feel like it's important. All these months, your only mission was to give him home, to pay him back for everything he's done for your sake.

Yet, somehow, it feels like both of you found home in each other.

[mr-celestial-writings]

General Relationship Headcannons (Bats pt 1)

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Richard "Dick" Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy "Tim" Drake

Summary: How do I think these characters would behave in a relationship. How I think you two would meet, their love languages, their first dates. You know the rest.

Gender Neutral Reader

DC Masterlist!

================================================

Bruce Wayne:

You two met at a Charity Fundraiser. He literally bumped into you. It was instinct to check you out, his analytical eyes scanned you. But it was perfectly hidden with his Playboy Brucie Persona.

He immediately went to charm your socks off. You may not have any vital information, but hey, at least you'd be a good lay.

He was very, very surprised when you turned him down. You sited not being interested in him as the reason.

Well, now he's just offended.

After that Night, Bruce began stalking seeking you out more. He learned everything he could about you. He had a point to prove, alright? He totally didn't find you attractive.

The more he spent time with you, the more he learned about you from you... The more Bruce looked forward to spending time with you.

Bruce found that he fell hard and fast for you. You were just... amazing! You were like a warm blanket on a cold winter's day. You were like the few rays of sunshine that Gotham gets a year...

Bruce eventually dropped the Brucie act around you, and he was surprised when you responded positively to Bruce just... being himself.

Bruce asked you out not too soon after that. He went all out on your first date. Candles, the most expensive food, a band. Bruce did not hold back.

You went along with it, but after words you told Bruce that you were okay with low effort, laid back dates. He felt like a bit of an idiot.

Bruce's Love languages would be Acts of Service and Quality Time. He loves doing things and spending time with you.

Richard "Dick" Grayson:

Haley brought you two together. The Puppy had gotten off her leash, and run straight into you. Dick apologized so much as he collected Haley from your arms.

Dick helped you off the ground, for a 3 legged puppy, Haley had a lot of power. He introduced himself, and offered to get you something to eat an an apology.

You two hit it off right away, though! Dick was funny and charming, and you bounced off of him easily.

What was supposed to be an apology hot dog ended up in a new friend and an exchange of numbers.

Hang outs became daily events. Dick would coo over Haley with you and buy you food. You were really fun to talk to!

Some months later, Dick decided to shoot his shot and ask you out. You were amazing, and just so fun to me around!

Your first Date would be at a cafe. Dick wanted to Impress you, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable with some massive, grand gesture. Who was he, Bruce?

Dick's love languages would be Quality Time and Physical Touch. He loves being around you and touching you. He also gives the best cuddles. It's a win-win.

Jason Todd:

Jason encountered into you at the Iceberg Lounge. He was just doing his usual rounds, making sure everybody was happy, along with scrapping together any information he could.

He noticed that you were uncomfortable, being hit on by a bunch of goons. Something told him he'd regret it, but he swooped in. He gently place his hand on you hip, it was sold you could easily escape if needed. With a few sweet words and nicknames, Jason chased the guy off.

He then properly introduced himself. You two got to talking, and Jason found that he... really liked talking to you.

Your friendship blossomed, and a year later Jason was hit with the fact he had a crush on you. Thank you Roy, for that.

He took his chance, and decided to ask you out. He was super relieved when you said yes.

This dork brought you to a bookstore for the first date. After browsing around he then brought you to a decent restaurant. It was all worth it to see you happy.

Jason's love languages would be Quality time and Words of Affirmation. He doesn't feel like he deserves you, reassure him that he does.

Timothy "Tim" Drake:

220k, strangers to lovers, slow burn, coffee shop AU- Sorry. You are a barista at his favorite cafe. You were the one who usually took and made his coffee.

He once asked you why you worked such unholy hours, since you were always in when he patrolled. You looked him dead in the eyes and said that college wasn't going to pay for itself, and that sleep was for the weak.

That's when he decided to look into you. He wanted to study you and everything about you. You were just amazing.

Bruce stopped that in it's tracks and forced Tim to talk to you like a normal person. No stalking and unhealthy relationships on Bruce's watch.

He was terrified as he talked to you. He led the conversation a best he could. The more he talked to you, the more relaxed he was.

You two got along very well! Tim was surprised about how well you two got along. You two shared a lot of interests. Tim felt... seen.

It took a couple months for Tim to work up the guts to ask you out. He was so excited when you said yes.

He brought you to the Observatory. He knew no villains would attack, and it was quiet. He bought you so much from the gift shop.

Tim's love languages are Gift Giving and Words of Affirmation. He has a lot of trouble with his self worth. Love on him, assure him that he is more than his role as a CEO or Red Robin.

================================================

a/n: I split this up, like, a lot. It was going to be a massive post with all the male characters I write for. Then I was going to do the same thing for the fem characters I write for.

But that was very fucking overwhelming. So I decided to split it up into the factions I write for. So, expect A Few of these types of posts lol.

Also Happy American Thanksgiving!

[kiemiu]

more boyfriend chris headcanons | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons wc 911 (library) + (request)

boyfriend!chris whose first instinct is to protect you. whenever there's a loud sound nearby, he's quick to pull you into him and cradle your head. if there's someone being creepy nearby and he notices that you're uncomfortable around them, he'll pull you behind him, gently rubbing his thumb against your wrist to soothe your worries, and remind you that he's there and that you have nothing to worry about.

boyfriend!chris who gets cuteness aggression around you. he just can't help it. all you have to do is simply exist around him and he's suddenly squealing like a kid in a candy store. he'll latch onto you like a leach and start swinging you around while nuzzling his head into your neck and 'unintentionally' cooing at you in a baby voice.

boyfriend!chris who is the best gossip buddy. anytime you give him a certain look, he knows he's in for a good tea session. the both of you will sit and gossip about other couples, and people you met in passing for hours. he always has the inside scoop on something, and whenever his ears happen to catch onto some extra juicy drama, you're the first person he'll run to yap about it with. he's actually the biggest gossip, and truthfully most of his friends aren't safe, because as soon as they say "can i tell you a secret? you can't tell anyone else though." he immediately excuses you and his brothers from that statement, cause his ears are yours.

boyfriend!chris who adores your laugh. he's suddenly the biggest comedian whenever he's around you. always cracking jokes, and throwing in one-liners into every conversation the two of you have just so he can hear you laugh. he adores it so much, and some of his favorite moments consist of just the two of you together in the quiet confines of his room, crying laughing at stupid memes.

boyfriend!chris who won't leave your side when you're sick. as soon as he gets word that you're feeling unwell, he's doing everything in his power to help you get back to health. he'll look up every method on the internet to help you, almost to the point it becomes overwhelming. after he sets you up with blankets, medicine, and you're well fed, he'll sit by the side of your bed and will refuse to leave you alone.

boyfriend!chris who loves to play online games with you. he'll buy a nintendo switch just to play your favorite games with you like animal crossing, and mario kart. other times, he'll beg matt to let you use his pc which he does most of the time, but for everyone's convenience, chris ended up buying you a new pc so he could play games with you whenever. he'll play all types of video games with you, going from scary, to adventure, to mystery. he'll play it all, your discord calls probably go up to being 8 hours long with the amount of games you play in one sitting. he'll also def try to get you into fortnite, and will most-likely carry you throughout most matches, he still wouldn't choose anyone else to duo with.

boyfriend!chris who remembers the little things. any allergy you have, your favorite desserts, your biggest fears, all of it is stored in the back of his mind. he could name any fact about you in an instant, he can tell you things that you don't even remember telling him. it's honestly a bit surprising but it always makes you feel seen as his partner. he pays attention to everything you do and say, even the smallest of habits.

boyfriend!chris who makes an effort of making time for you. he always sets aside time for you. he's a busy guy with a full schedule, so whenever he has some free time to spare, he'll plan something for the both of you to do together. he turns his phone off when he's out with you just incase someone tries to cut in on that time. if someone tries to sway his decision of doing something else instead of being with you, he'll shoot it down immediately. always saying something along the lines of "i gotta get back home to my baby."

boyfriend!chris who calls you his wife. before you even started dating he called you his girlfriend, but now that you're actually a couple, he calls you his wife. he always uses you as an excuse, saying things like "ahh, the wife's not gonna like this one." and "my wife said i should be back home by 9 'cause she's cooking dinner tonight." when in reality you never said those things, he just wants to get back home to you. on other occasions he just likes to do it because he fully believes in having that future with you. "happy wife, happy life."

boyfriend!chris who loves you for not judging him. chris always feels like people look at him a little differently from his brothers. he falls under people's scrutiny all the time for being weird, loud, annoying, and as much as he likes to pretend that those comments don't hurt him, they really do. so, you've become a personal safe-haven for him. whenever he starts to feel beaten down by the ruthlessness of people's opinions he always goes to you for comfort. he doesn't feel lonely or isolated anymore knowing that you see him for him.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow

[wonderjanga]

You!

Wizard: “Say my name Billy!”

Billy: “Shazam!” *gets lightninged*

Wizard: *pauses to look at his Marvel form dumbfounded*

Marvel: “What? What is it- Oh my god, I sound like a grown man.” *sounds horrified as he’s checking out his new form*

Wizard: *blinks rapidly before rubbing his eyes and checking again*

As for why the Wizard was so dumbfounded? Well, the young Batson’s form looks exactly like his. Granted, the clothes are different, but still. He hadn’t seen anything this eerie since the boy’s father. Honestly, when he first saw the man, it gave him what humans nowadays call, the heebie geebies.

It’s actually because of they look identical that the Wizard told him about Black Adam instead of just praying that Teth didn’t escape the seal.

Wizard: *walking to his chair* “My work here is done, Billy. I trust you will handle your duties as Champion. If you ever need me, light the brazier.” *sits on his chair*

Marvel: “Mr. Wizard Sir, there’s a rock that’s about to fall on you-”

Wizard: “There’s also this man named Black Adam! Billywatchoutforhim-” *rock thing falls and kills him*

Marvel: *horrified he just saw a man die*

After getting over his shock of the Wizard dying, Billy’s life went as usual. He went around, saving people, defeating villains, just all around being a hero. During all this, he kept the name Black Adam at the back of his mind.

Then, the day came that Black Adam escaped and came to Fawcett to get rid of the current champion.

Marvel: *helping some little lady cross the road*

Black Adam: “Champion.” *hovers over Marvel, casting his shadow over him*

Marvel: *finishes helping the old lady and looks over to Adam but can only see his silhouette because of the sun being the hovering man* “Huh?”

Black Adam: *visibly flinches because he literally sees the Wizard himself looking up at him*

Yeah, Teth was fucking surprised. Why wouldn’t he be? As far as he knew the Wizard gave up his powers. So, how in the world is the man standing in front of him in Champion form? Gods, why is he getting flashbacks right now? He hasn’t seen that form since he and Shazam were still on good terms and even then, he gave it up soon after Adam became Champion.

Marvel: *tries to put his hand up so he can block the sun out*

Black Adam: *thinks he’s about to attack him and just rushes him*

Teth rammed him so far away they ended up in the middle of nowhere.

Marvel: “What the heck man?!”

Black Adam: “JEBIDIAH!” *tries to punch him*

Marvel: *dodges and is extremely confused* “Wha-”

Black Adam: “Did you really think I wouldn’t escape?!” *tries to punch him again*

Marvel: *dodges and pieces together the fact that this guy is wearing black and trying to kill him* “Black Adam?!”

They didn’t get many more words in before they just started brawling. Billy left the fight confused and with a new enemy, and Adam left the fight filled with rage and with his “old” enemy. Billy went back to the cave and lit the brazier. Shazam ended up telling him all the drama while Billy sat on the floor like a child being read a story by their teacher.

Eventually, he and Adam had more run ins.

Marvel: *dodges a punch* “I just don’t get it, we’re so much alike, why can’t we just be friends?

Black Adam: “Friends? Friends?! We will never be friends again! I was sealed for 5000 years because of you!”

Marvel: “Adam, you killed all of the council. I didn’t do anything. You being sealed was your own doing.”

A new station recorded this and now people think the two were friends who became estranged after Adam killed the is so called council. People make porksoda edits with them. Just to clarify, this isn’t Mamaragan(?) wizard this is just The Wizard. The white one. Jebidiah?

[dragonanon]

Shameless Satan x Reader headcanons because I am a whore- 😩

- As much as everyone would probably assume he’s into “meek wittle UwU princesses” he can dominate with ease, Satan in fact prefers a little spitfire who won’t hesitate to fight back

- You won’t just lay down and take his BS, and it’s part of what drew him to you to begin with. He was probably raging about some stupid shit in the courtroom, and you (probably a desk clerk or something there at the time) got sick of it and yelled back at him “Oh stfu you big red fucker!” And he was so taken aback that someone had the balls to yell back at him that he was left speechless and mildly aroused

- Calls you things like “little flame”, “spitfire”, “dove”, and his “treasure”

- Knows that the sheer size difference between you two flusters you to no end, and he’s a goddamn menace about it. Making short jokes, holding things out of reach, and randomly picking you up just so he can hear you squeak in surprise. Getting cursed out by you is worth it so long as he gets to see that precious look on your face

- Aside from Yogirt, you’re really the only one who can get Satan to calm down when he’s angry and you have a much easier time doing so than Yogirt does. All you have to do is scratch his chin and croon at him, and the big bastard just melts into your touch

- Purrs SO GODDAMN LOUD but insists that he doesn’t. The lying bastard, he sounds like a tractor engine on steroids. He gets SUPER pissy if anyone besides you comments on it

- SO fucking full of himself, mans REALLY thinks he’s above Lucifer and deserves to be regarded as such smh. Your love and affection only further strokes his overinflated ego, as does any compliments and praise you give him. Mf actually grows BIGGER in multiple ways lol the more his ego is stroked

- This man is a cowboy/rancher and I will take NO criticism because I’m right. He’s got THOUSANDS of cows, and lots of horses too

- When he’s not in the courtroom, he’s working on his ranch. Probably has hundreds, if not thousands, of Demons he employs as farm hands to help with all the work, but there are some things only he can do and TBH he likes the physical activity of the work and it’s a free show for you lol

- He gave you a little chicken coop so you can keep a little flock of chickens. You LOVE your chickens, and your personal fav is a tiny rooster you named “Marshmallow”, and he looks like a more demonic version of this lol

- Says he’s not jealous of Marshmallow, but he TOTALLY is. He gets all pouty and grumbly when you pick up the tiny rooster and coo over him, because dammit you should be cuddling and cooing over HIM! Not that stupid bird!

- Has a big, fancy, mansion on his ranch that he lives in with you. In true dragon fashion, he unironically sleeps on a mountain of gold and other treasures lol. How he doesn’t have back pain is a mystery, but you get to sleep on his tiddies so you have no complaints lol

- Runs SO fucking hot! You’ll never need to pay for heating again, let alone HAVE an actual heating system, because this mf puts out heat like an industrial incinerator. It’s FANTASTIC during the winter because he’s so warm you can just cozy up to him and be in bliss, but in the summer it’s fucking agony and you can’t escape it because he gets upsetti spaghetti if you don’t sleep and cuddle with him

- Would prefer you to NOT be in the courtroom with him. He says it’s because you distract him, but in reality it’s because he doesn’t want you to have to see him explode with rage and live up to his title as the embodiment of wrath. He actually tries REALLY hard to keep that part of himself away from you, because even though he’ll die before ever admitting it, a TINY part of him is terrified that he’ll end up hurting you during one of his outbursts

- If for some reason you HAVE to be there, he has a special little balcony set up for you that’s not only a safe distance away from any potential danger, but ALSO has a magic force field protecting it (that part is a secret tho because if you knew about it, you’d yell at him for thinking you’re weak enough to need protection lmfao)

- If anyone so much as blinks at you wrong, he beats the shit out of them. The ONLY reason he doesn’t kill them is because he knows you’ll yell at him like “Dammit Satan, again?! I can’t go anywhere with you!”

- Yogirt 100% uses his love for you to get him to chill. “I know you’re feeling some pretty big feelings right now, but think of (Y/N)~ She loves you and would be so sad to see you this angry~”

- It’s funny because he and Satan both know damn well that you wouldn’t be sad, rather you’d be yelling at him to knock that shit off lmao

- The entire courtroom once got to hear you sit him the fuck down because he got a little TOO spicy in the courtroom one day, and didn’t believe Yogirt he he not-so-subtly threatened to call you. Sure enough, he pulled out his phone and called you on speaker phone, and everyone got to spend 30 minutes listening to you rip this mf a new one while the mighty king of wrath sat there like a sad puppy and occasionally mumbling something like “I know…I’m sorry treasure, I’ll do better.” (No one is allowed to comment on it or else he’ll get VERY angry about it. Plenty of memes have been made about it tho much to his chagrin)

[glitteringdust]

Rookanis request: Something where they actually talk about Spite and set boundaries or whatever for their relationship? I *really* wish the game had mentioned that at some point (also I’m just interested in seeing how folks handle it in their stories).

All Spite wants is Rook’s touch.

Ever since she’d started thanking the demon directly for his help, he’d been head over heels at every interaction.

She sees us. She talked to me! Let me talk to her.

It was hard enough for Lucanis to separate his own wants from Spite’s, when they aligned this close. Rook was always giving praise honestly where it was due yet Spite had such a craving for it, it was hard to contain. On top of that, the demon began to crave the usual high fives, the handshakes—any brief moment they were close Spite almost buzzed along the crow's nerves with interest.

Lucanis however…found the thought of her touch much more complicated than that.

The very thought of her touch stoked a desire within, one he could not indulge in while there was a job to do. Entanglements such as this were detrimental to an assassin. Even more so with an overeager demon tugging at the chains.

Then they'd almost kissed.

Exchanged heated glances, after that. Thanks to Spite, he knew the exact number of footsteps it took for Rook to get to his room from the eluvian. He knew what those footsteps sounded like, light against the stone floor. A distinct rhythm, not unlike a heart beat at rest.

It doesn't surprise him, when she knocks twice and enters the room. The last ten steps have her standing before his seated spot on the bed.

It does surprise him, when she runs a finger under his chin, pulling his gaze to hers.

“Stop me, if this is not what you want.”

As she moves forward, he moves back until she is straddling him, his back inches from the wall. Her weight is welcome against him, anticipation tingling along his skin as her breath ghosts over his face.

Rook was so close. So close.

She was going to kiss him, a fact he was only just becoming aware of when her lips meet his.

Mierda.

Lucanis kisses her in a calculated way, slow and specific and bleeding a kind of desire he’d never afford himself usually. He wanted to get each one right, savoring this moment as long as he could. He rests one hand along the small of her back, and cradles her head with the other as he tastes her lips again and again. He can't help the pleased sound that escapes as she runs her fingers along his temples, and then through his hair.

Everything is abuzz, every nerve and inch of him consumed by her. He can barely feel the shift in the air, the scent of blackberry and ozone dancing along his tongue. The fingers in his hair grip him tighter, Rook's breath quickening as his lips travel from her mouth down her jaw, along her neck, teeth grazing her throat and the junction between shoulder and neck…

“Lucanis.”

She's pushing him away, albeit so, so gently. He grunts out what he hopes is acknowledgement, untangling the haze over his mind. Brown eyes meet her blue, and as he regains a sense of reality he releases the grip his one hand had on her hair.

They both catch their breath.

“That was not only you, kissing me just now.”

He goes still. Rook makes no move to leave his lap, arms still draped around his neck and gaze nothing but soft.

“Spite has always been intrigued by you, but he knows what I feel, too. It's… hard to explain.”

“Does it bother you, what Spite thinks of me?”

He doesn't answer for a moment.

“Sometimes, it's hard to know where he ends and I begin. Especially when we agree on something.”

Rook tastes good. Feels good.

“Sharing a body must only make that worse.”

“It amplifies it. Makes what I feel more real than anything.” He looks away briefly, “What he and I feel for you… cannot be separated anymore. Are you okay with that?”

She doesn’t even hesitate, “I am. Are you?”

Most of his life had been decided for him by Caterina. Lucanis had very little say in most of the things he’d faced, and he’d faced betrayal and possession by a demon. If it hadn’t been for Rook’s understanding and kindness, where would he even be?

For the first time in his life, this choice was up to him.

"I want you, Khalia, with all that I am."

He'd ask the demon what he thought, but the only decisions Spite wanted to make were new places to kiss Rook. The buttons of her shirt had almost succumbed to Spite's clumsy fingers, but demons lacked dexterity.

Next time, we tear it open.

“Spite, can you not? Mierda.”

Rook laughs, “What's he saying?”

“Thinking of new places to kiss you. He's mad you have so many buttons.”

A cheeky grin, one that sets his insides fluttering, “Well, I can't say I don't like where that's going.”

She leans in, capturing his mouth in hers again. Nimble fingers slowly work their way along those buttons.

He could do this all day.

[lapileaf]

Theory time.

In Episode 39 Dreams by night, Buddy runs past a lock with 8 key holes. Buddy also had 4 tally marks on his outfit. We know there’s 12 keys in total so we can assume there is 4 missing in total. As of now the Hollows have found Silver, Bronze, and Goldie. In the next season we will most likely meet another key holder who found the missing key.

I theorize that there was a former member of Ex Libris that dispersed the keys. Buddy didn’t seem surprised that someone had Silvers key in episode 25 but more surprised that it WAS Chase. He was most likely expecting someone else, but who? Maybe whoever he was expecting was a former member of Ex Libris and dispersed the keys. Whoever did most likely knew about the keys and wishes. I’m assuming that they hid the keys due to the fact of a bad wish that Ex Libris was planning on making. But not all of the keys were hidden.

In a Christmas artwork Punko made (that can be found on her creator feed) Buddy is sitting alone with 2 gingerbread cookies, looking upset. 1 of the 2 cookies is cracked and missing a piece. This is foreshadowing considering it came from Punko but what to? It could be referring to keys and Silvers key being cracked from the first few episodes of CB although I think it’s more than that. Maybe something to do with when the keys first started going missing. Hopefully we will get a bit of Ex Libris and Buddy lore by the end of season 1.

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.45

Summary: Wednesday has no idea where you ran off to after your little argument. What she finds is nothing short of horrific.

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, delusions, fairly graphic violence, murder, consequences of dismemberment Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

It had been an entire night since you had left the apartment, and Wednesday still hadn’t heard from you.

Not that she was entirely surprised considering you had forgotten your phone on the kitchen counter. But you had always come back. There were nights you had vanished for hours, but you always came back. She couldn’t recall a night you had left the apartment and not come back, or at least warned her of your prolonged disappearance.

The nature of your disappearance was also a concerning factor. Wednesday was never really one to put the blame onto someone else, nor to deny her own fault when necessary. In all fairness, your reaction to discovering her visions wasn’t entirely uncalled for, aside from one simple fact.

She had genuinely believed you were aware of her ability.

You were correct; after so long, how had you not known? Yet everyone else had known of her visions. They hadn’t necessarily confronted her about it, but they had known. Was it truly so wrong for her to have assumed you had known as well? Would it have been so far-fetched for her to believe you had known of her visions and simply hadn’t felt the need to bring it up?

No, she didn’t fault you for your reaction, but she couldn’t ignore the hurt you had caused. It was no comparison to your own, considering you were under the impression everyone had lied to you. But she didn’t find it enjoyable to be accused of such a thing when it had never been her intention. She had never wanted to lie to you, not even from the beginning. There was no chance she ever would have told you, of course, but it didn’t change the fact.

And now you were, for all intents and purposes, missing.

Wednesday tried to be patient once morning came around. An entire night of silence was unusual, but she supposed you had had an argument. While she certainly hadn’t used the time to reflect and grow angry (instead moping around and feeling sorry for herself, which was a foreign feeling), you most likely had. It was forgiven, of course, and all you needed to do was come back home so you could both move on.

When midday rolled around, her patience was waning. What could you be doing that would have you gone for so long? Surely there was nothing more important than coming back home, correct? So why were you still absent? She knew she had upset you, she was well aware, but that didn’t mean you needed to run away like a petulant child.

As the sun started to set, and the main room of the apartment dimmed with the light, Wednesday fell victim to the worry she had shoved down after your vanishing act. You were nearing 24 hours of being gone; something entirely unheard of. Preposterous even. And you had proven time and time again that you were capable of keeping yourself alive (by questionable means on occasion), but she wouldn’t deny the reality of the world.

Something was out to get you.

It had been very much in character for Wednesday to hide things from the friend group in the past. Since you had come around, any and all secrets had been laid bare and, as disgusting as the truth was, she had been open with everyone. But it never occurred to her to inform someone that you were still gone, or that you had even left at all. Eugene was still in hospital, Enid was mostly recovered but still terrified, and Ash was most likely being fussed over by Bianca for having shot something. How could she burden them with something that in all actuality was an overactive imagination.

Oh no. She was openly considerate. How very well dare you.

Consideration for her friends aside (she could hear your teasing now; “Friends? I knew you liked them”), she wasn’t sure what to do. Should she wait for you? After the current amount of waiting, the thought of continuing that course left her feeling empty and hopeless. Her brain ran through countless options, none of which helped her current predicament.

Not that any plans would have mattered too much considering she was still missing a vital piece of information.

She mentally rattled off the list of locations you could have frequented. The floor was worn in the place you normally paced, and Wednesday was doing her best to leave her own wear and tear. Pacing always seemed to help you think, so perhaps it actually worked. Her boots were loud against the wooden floor; so very different from the haunting silence of your own steps.

The longer she paced, the more frustrated she became. Nothing was coming to light and she didn’t know what else to do. The pacing was useless. Sitting and waiting was worse than a waste of time. A roil of emotion bubbled up in her stomach as she stormed off and grabbed your phone-

-the forest was gone, instead replaced by a house that she could recognise even from her single visit. Wednesday had never been downstairs in your parents house, instead only exploring a few rooms upstairs when she came with you, but she recognised the tile.

The image flew from her mind as quickly as it appeared, but it was all she needed. Without warning or hesitation, Wednesday all but ran out of the apartment (just as she had the night before). It had never occurred to her to tell anyone; to let anyone know that she was leaving. Or that you had disappeared after the woods fiasco the previous night. Or even that she had been so inadequate that she had forgotten to tell you such an important aspect of her life.

It was a decently lengthy trip to get down to DC. Thanks to you, however, Wednesday was incredibly well versed in using the bus to get to her destination. A talent that she was surprisingly proud of. If anyone had told young Wednesday Addams that she would be proficient in using public transportation, she never would have believed them.

It was as if she had simply blinked and ended up in front of the door to your parents’ house. The startlingly white wood was a sharp contrast to the overly large and intricate brass knockers hung high in the middle. In another time, she would have possibly taken the time to admire the decoration. After all, the craftsmanship of the piece was worthy of the Addams family name (almost).

The metal was cool against her palm as she swung the heavy knocker against the solid doors. The sounds they created resonated both inside the house and outside, leaving an increasingly satisfying hum through the air. Behind the door, underneath the deep bass of the knockers, footsteps slowly stomped their way closer. The door opened, and the blinding light grew from the now-open doorway.

Wednesday felt her heart stutter.

“Hey, Willa,” you said in a raspy voice.

A stunning array of blood trailed across your face. Strands of hair were loose, hanging limp and heavy with the dried sticky mess. The Addams ring faded into the thick coating on your hands, ending around the middle of your forearms. She couldn’t remember the exact clothes you had been wearing when you had left, but this? It was nothing more than a mangled, somehow both stiff and wet mess of cloth.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you said. Your smile was a stark contrast to the blood splattered across your skin. A few splashes dotted your teeth.

“I-” the words caught in her throat. There were so many things she wanted to say. She settled on, “You vanished.” The words clawed their way past the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry, mi amore,” you answered, leaning heavily against the doorframe. Blood smeared across the startling white wood. “I forgot my phone.”

She nodded. Your body was lax; exponentially more than… well, than almost the entire time she had known of your very existence. Wet and sticky hands were tucked carelessly into pockets. If your eyes had been any more hooded, she would have assumed you were asleep where you stood. Each and every laugh line on your face was gone.

Your eyes didn’t glow.

“I came to bring you home,” Wednesday said softly. Always soft; only for you.

The corner of your mouth ticked upward. “Stay for dinner,” you said as you reached out for her hand. Your fingers were slick. “We can go home after.”

Inside the house was silent; Wednesday didn’t need to step foot past the entryway to notice. Your parents were rather selective in their words and actions, but it was nonsensical that they would be so incredibly quiet. The abnormal fact of your presence should have exacerbated the reaction, not enforced it. You remained in the doorway.

“Please?” You asked in a voice so soft, Wednesday wasn’t sure the word had come from your mouth. And how could she possibly say no?

She took your hand; it was cold, and she felt dirty. You squeezed once, and the ring you placed on her finger lightly pressed into her skin. Behind her, your leg stretched backwards, pushing the door closed with an eerie click of the lock. The only thing she could hear was the rumble of the aircon hidden in the elevated ceilings.

Wednesday felt a light tug on her hand, and she veered sideways until she was all but leaning into you. Seemingly on instinct, your wing moved to cover her. Motes of dust sifted down and fell on her nose. She did her best not to sneeze.

“I need a little help with dinner,” you said, “but then we can eat.”

You pulled her past what she assumed was the dining room. Her eyes were drawn to a small patch of discoloured wood outlining the doorway. A barely noticeable spot, but when caught in just the right light, it was obvious. As if someone had grabbed a paint brush, dipped it in the colour closest to the doorway but not quite exactly, wrung most of the paint out, and dragged the brush across the fine grain of the wood.

You didn’t let her dwell on it.

She didn’t believe she had ever been to the kitchen in your parents’ house, which wasn’t saying much considering she had hardly been to your parents’ house. It looked vintage (not the real vintage, simply a cheap imitation), but was, unsurprisingly, as blindingly white as the rest of the house. Each and every appliance, from the things brought out of the drawers to the range hood over the stove, was an obnoxiously shiny silver. It was as if it had never been used, aside from the dishes currently cooking.

“Give me just a minute,” you said, leaning down and placing a sticky kiss on her cheek before walking over to the pan on the stove.

She wondered if her skin now sported a dark red lip stain.

“They’re behaving tonight,” you said. You didn’t turn around, and Wednesday slowly moved from where you had left her.

She walked toward the island in the middle of the room; a stunning marble that was surprisingly the only good thing in the entirety of the house. It was a mess; littered with cutting boards and various remnants of whatever ingredients you had been using. On the corner closest to her, she noticed a few drops of red that appeared to have been hastily cleaned.

“Obviously dad and I aren’t good,” you continued to talk, “but he didn’t call the cops on me, so.” A shrug. “That’s a win.”

You continued to stir, and Wednesday continued to move so slowly you would never notice. Or you shouldn’t have. On her third step closer to the fridge, you turned your head. Your gaze alone was enough to nail her to the spot, cementing her bones together until she was stiff; far too reminiscent of death itself.

“Can you grab the salad?” You asked with a polite smile. “I’m almost done.”

Say something, Wednesday thought. Even a single word is better than this silence. But she couldn’t. No word, no noise, not even a breath left her mouth. You didn’t seem to notice. You turned back to the stove and kept stirring, and talking, and Wednesday didn’t hear a word of it. She simply continued to the fridge.

Her own hand covered the bloody print on the handle as she pulled it open. It was cold and dry, she had no fear of it sticking to the palms of her hands. Not like what had remained on your own skin. Inside the fridge was entirely unremarkable. The salad - which looked rather delicious, she would admit - was front and center on the middle shelf. The glass bowl was cold as she grabbed it, and the door shut with a satisfying hiss before she placed the bowl on the island.

“It’s just nice to be together again, you know?” You said, and Wednesday remembered she hadn’t heard a single word you had said. “Like a family.”

Wednesday’s finger tapped on the glass. “What of Momma and Pop?” She asked. Your stirring slowed. “What of the ones who raised you?”

The stirring came to a horrifying stop. Her eyes were glued to the back of your head, then your cheek, then your eyes. Those eyes which she would know so deeply within her soul, she could pick them out in all of heaven or hell. Eyes that had been dull and unassuming to the occasional passerby, but that had sent a chill down her spine. Eyes that were glowing once again like they should have been.

“Of course they’re family,” you said in a tone much more like yourself. A tone Wednesday had fallen for. “They’ve always been my family.” Your eerily cheery faux disposition had all but vanished as you looked at her. She saw you.

And just like that, you blinked and the glow faded back into a dull imitation of yourself. You didn’t smile, not exactly, but the worry that had momentarily etched itself into your forehead had been erased. You looked calm. Far too calm for the amount of blood covering your skin.

“We should go see them later,” you said. Your shoulders lifted dramatically before falling with a silent exhale. “I think this is done.” You glanced at her over your shoulder briefly. “Give me one sec and we’ll go to the dining room.”

The dining table was huge, accentuated by the measly five plates that sat around the perimeter of the stunning wood. Only five. Two seats were empty, and two more were filled with sights that Wednesday didn’t think she could have imagined even in her most demented nightmares. In the fifth seat, Wednesday saw the near-perfect reflection of herself.

Dread crept through her veins. She had told you the night before that her visions weren’t fact; that was true. There had been numerous times she had been outright wrong in her visions. After all, one of those visions had seen you remaining little more than an acquaintance. It had been horrifically, wonderfully wrong.

But some of them were accurate.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said. You were already holding the sides in separate dishes, one in each hand. “And don’t forget the salad.”

You walked before her without looking back to ensure she was following. That was wrong. Nonetheless, Wednesday grabbed the faintly condensation-covered bowl and followed your eerily silent footsteps. Her eyes remained glued to your feet; they were bare.

“Our first family dinner,” you said softly as you disappeared into the dining room. “This is gonna be great.”

Wednesday turned the corner.

Instinct should have relaxed her grip on the glass, allowing it to slip through her fingers to crash to the floor. Her pulse skyrocketed. A single bead of sweat tickled her neck as it rolled down her skin. The glass warmed under her touch, but it didn’t drop.

“You can set the salad by mom,” you said with a soft smile.

That was the last place she wanted to set the bowl. The sight itself was worse than her vision could have ever created. You stepped in a puddle on the way to the other side of the table, leaving sticky footprints in your wake. Horror crept up her throat when you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the gaunt, hollowed-out cheek of your mother. It hadn’t been long since Wednesday had seen your mother last; warm, professionally animated, cautiously talkative.

Alive.

Wednesday was a cold person. It was how she had been born and how she lived. If she had to put it into words, she would say it was an Addams family gift. The ability to face the weather head-on without the slightest fear of having to wear something other than the usual Addams gothic fashion. She was very well aware of the fact that the rest of the population was nowhere near as blessed as they were.

Your mother looked as cold as an Addams.

“I remember your last words to her were,” Wednesday exhaled shakily as she struggled to turn away, “unkind.”

“Well yeah,” you said with a nervous laugh, “they were.” You readjusted your jaw. “But we actually talked it over, so.” A simple shrug and smile. “We’re good now.”

The smell reached her senses when she was close enough to set the glass on the table with a subtle *clink*. Not quite nauseating, but well on its way. Cold, dark, empty eyes stared at her. That horror clawed its way higher again. Her stomach twisted into knots as realisation dawned on what they looked like. Or who they looked like.

“You can sit by mom,” you said with a far-too-cheery disposition. “You haven’t really met dad yet so I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Your father was… arguably in worse shape than your mother. Or, she supposed she should say: she’d rather face your mother if given the chance. His new fleshy wings were a grotesque imitation of yours. As if they could hear her, your wings twitched before you situated yourself in the seat directly opposite her.

Wednesday lowered herself into the chair. It was sticky.

“Where’s Mabel?” Wednesday asked. The kind-faced maid had been on her mind from the moment she had entered the dining room. Accompanied by inhumane levels of dread.

“I sent her home,” you said with a shrug. “She should get to see her son too.” Your eyes glowed for a second; one blink and it was gone. She almost missed it.

Something creaked. You didn’t move, but Wednesday’s eyes flew to the side. She could still see your mother (and attempted to keep the nausea at bay at the sight), but she was drawn to the picture frame at the end of the table. A picture of Nicky, young and happy with a smile that was an exact copy of yours. His picture frame, at the very head of the table, was all she needed to see to know your mental state.

You sighed, and slowly she turned to look at you once again. There was a serenity on your face as you looked around the table, stopping on every person before settling on her. There, surrounded by the unsettling corpses of your birth family, you looked at peace. The faintest glow was behind your dull eyes and almost, just almost, you were what Wednesday would consider happy.

The realisation crashed upon her like a burning house.

“Would you like some wine?” You asked, pulling Wednesday back from the cliff of her thoughts. “Dad got some of the good bottles from the cellar.”

The blood on your hands had long since dried. Each movement as you reached across the table to grab an unopened bottle (a good vintage indeed) resulted in the dried mess flaking off piece by piece. The smallest piece lodged itself into the ring on your finger.

Wednesday shook her head in the negative.

“Expensive wine is kind of gross,” you said as you finished pouring the liquid into your father’s glass and set it back on the table. “I guess I never developed the taste for it.”

You kept talking. To your father, your mother, Nicky’s picture. Pausing for appropriate amounts of time before continuing the conversation. That little worry line between your brows that was so prominent on weekends or evenings after not talking with your family was erased as if it had never been there in the first place. Looking at you alone, she could see the vision.

“Wednesday?”

She blinked once. You were looking at her with the slightest tilt of your head and the dullest eyes she had ever seen. They stared into her soul, searching for something she couldn’t comprehend. The usual abrupt flow of warmth she got from looking at you was terrifyingly absent.

The nausea grew with the smell wafting in her direction. 

“Nicky asked you a question,” you said.

She had heard no question. Of course she hadn’t, it was simply a picture in a frame. His hospital gown was almost entirely out of frame, but if you knew what to look for it was obvious. His eyes were closed; they hadn’t been open in a decade. You were looking at the frame as if he was sitting in that very chair, enjoying the meal that you had painstakingly made and yet hadn’t even bothered to touch.

“What was the question?” She asked. It wasn’t the first time she had talked with a corpse. Or perhaps it was a ghost? A spirit, maybe?

You smiled the way you normally did. “He asked if you’re enjoying your first family dinner.”

Oh. Of course he had asked that, how preposterous for her to have believed any differently. She should have known what your dead, ghostly brother had asked her. Your eyes stayed on her, and your body gave nothing away. Not even the smallest indication that anything was amiss.

She wished she had gotten to talk with your mother before… her demise.

“It’s-” Wednesday looked at your parents’ mutilated corpses and the delicately plated meals in front of them “-acceptable.”

You nodded and took a sip of wine - from the glass in front of your father - before looking back at the picture. Wednesday could only imagine what was going on in your head at that moment. Perhaps all the trauma had finally broken you. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you had been saying you had heard things, seen things, that you yourself felt like you were going insane.

“Told you,” you mumbled.

Your fork pushed things around on the plate in front of you, but not once did you eat it. The black polish on your nails, which Wednesday had graciously (eagerly) painted, was chipped around the tips. From the elbow down, your arms looked like they would be better suited to some sort of demon.

Or perhaps an Addams.

As you continued to talk to no one but yourself, Wednesday tapped her foot. Every time she picked it up, she could hear the sticky sound it created before she placed it back down gently. You didn’t turn to inquire about her actions. Why didn’t you inquire?

“Oh shit,” you said, pulling Wednesday once again out of her thoughts. “Nicky’s right.” Your eyes rolled. “I forgot Casey and Devan.”

“I’ll get them,” Wednesday said immediately. So quickly, in fact, that she didn’t initially recognise the outburst as her own.

You looked at her with nearly-glowing eyes. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your dinner,” you said.

“I insist,” she continued, standing up from her chair.

If she inhaled the rising stench one more time, she truly felt she would lose her nerve. Who would have thought? She didn’t easily forget the autopsy date you had set up for her back in Nevermore; one of the most romantic things you could have ever done. This, however… something about this wasn’t right.

You stood up far slower than she had. Patient, deliberate movements. You expertly maneuvered away from the fleshy monstrosity beside you. Nothing else dripped onto your clothes, and if it hadn’t already been stained, she would have been amazed by the impeccably white shirt that she hadn’t remembered you wearing. Each step was precise until you were standing in front of her.

Your eyes were glowing.

“I can get them,” you said softly. “I want you to have a nice night.”

She should have flinched when your dried, itchy, blood covered hand rested on her face. More flakes came off as your thumb rubbed lightly against her cheek. It wasn’t preposterous to assume you had been either witness or perpetrator to the scene she was standing in the middle of. Fear would (and should) have been the most prominent emotion pounding inside her chest.

It wasn’t. All she felt was the warmth of your palm. The spreading warmth in her chest as your eyes roamed her face the way they had back in Nevermore. You were both back in the Addams mausoleum, dancing around your feelings until, for the first (and certainly not the last) time, she felt your lips upon hers. Your wings, ever dusty and protective, wrapped around you until you were both alone in the little cocoon she had come to love.

“You look beautiful tonight,” you said.

Wednesday exhaled harshly through her nose when you leaned down and she finally felt your kiss. Your lips were chapped as usual, and you tasted metallic. She should have been hesitant. But with your wings around her, blocking out the rest of the world, she put it to the back of her mind. Your nails lightly scratched against her cheek, grounding her in the most Addams form of love. She-

-a sharp prick in her abdomen was quickly followed by an inferno.

Her breath caught in her throat. Hands instinctively went to the source of the pain. They were met with a small handle. Your hand never left her cheek. Your wings didn’t part. She looked up and saw the dullness in your eyes once again.

“Stay here,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get Casey and Devan and be right back.”

You leaned in for another kiss that she couldn’t focus on.

“I love you,” you said before finally pulling back away. Your wings parted, and the blinding lights did nothing to distract her from the pain.

Wednesday staggered backwards. She reached out for a chair and felt the back, but when she attempted to sit, it moved. The floor rushed up to meet her, and she let herself fall to her back in the sticky puddle of blood that she was now contributing to.

Her hands gripped the knife handle tighter as the front door clicked shut behind you.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 30/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN (interlude) ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY (interlude) TWENTYONE TWENTYTWO TWENTYTHREE TWENTYFOUR TWENTYFIVE TWENTYSIX TWENTYSEVEN TWENTYEIGHT TWENTYNINE

Reminder that decade chapters are Ice/Mav interludes.

CHAPTER THIRTY INTERLUDE (Ice / Mav)

                They have a few episodes to catch up on now, because Pete’s been away training and he promised he wouldn’t watch without him. He’s been itching to watch, getting more and more impatient. Mainly due to Slider sending him a message with I know something you don’t know followed by a row of shit emojis, interspersed with the exploding head. He’s not sure what it means, but he also hadn’t known how to respond at the time. It had prompted Slider to call him, which had been nice, except Slider had gotten annoyed about something before saying he needed to go and talk to someone, and that to call him if he needed anything.

                Cryptic bastard.

                Mav gets home and they settle in, bowls of pasta which has become the go-to comfort meal for Mav to eat while he watches Bradley strut around a kitchen looking happy and competent and, he suspect, safe and well. They get through the first two episodes, and there’s drama around the new restaurant, and orders being wrong, and then there is Violet, the young woman who refers to Bradley as her cousin. She’s grinning into the camera, telling them they have a surprise for Bradley, and he wonders if they’ve flown over some more of his Italian family and friends. They’ve done that before, and it’s sweet to see Bradley be so loved that are allowed to be close to him.

                Then the screen is blurry, but the blurriness immediately reduces to be centered around one figure. Violet is talking to the blur like it’s an old friend, laughing and joking. But Tom’s eyes are caught on the fact that the blurred figure is very clearly in uniform, and only the top half is blurred. He’s leaning forward, and he notes Pete is as well, not that his attention was anywhere else, but he’s now lazer focused.

                “This is Bradley’s boyfriend,” Violet is saying to the camera. “We’re going to surprise him. He’s back early from his deployment so Bradley isn’t expecting him.”

                “He has a boyfriend in the military…” Pete says, and his voice is doing something odd and pitchy, but Tom is already running his head through any and all deployments he knows of that finished early, because this isn’t just military, but the man is wearing brown shoes, which is something he’s familiar with. Mav hasn’t picked up on it yet, seems to be squinting as if it will somehow make the blurriness fade into something he’ll recognize.

                Aviator.

                Bradley’s boyfriend is a naval aviator.

                What are the fucking chances.

                “Yeah,” Tom murmurs, because this is what Slider had been teasing him about. Not only did Slider know about the boyfriend but Tom would put good money on him also knowing exactly who it is.

                On screen Bradley’s face is completely lit up, then he’s kissing his boyfriend. At least Tom assumes that’s what happening behind the little section of blurred image. He feels a surge of pride and happiness that at least Bradley never had to deal with DADT, is clearly happy and well adjusted and his boyfriend is clearly happy to kiss him with an entire film crew recording.

                “Can we find out who it is?” Pete asks

                “By we I assume you mean me...”

                “Of course.”

                Tom could just ask Bradley. That would be the easiest solution. And the one Slider will definitely push him toward.

                Except Bradley hasn’t shared this with him, and that hurts.

                He hasn’t asked, either. Because he doesn’t want to pry. Doesn’t want to be that asshole parental figure that is always asking about a partner, or kids, or a wedding. He knows what that’s like and he’s tried very hard to avoid that. Except if Bradley thinks he doesn’t care then he’s over-corrected terribly and he will need to ring Bradley and let him know that is definitely not the case. But first he’s going to ring Slider and pick his brains.

                “Thought I’d be hearing from you…”

                “Yeah well… god, I’d kill for a cigarette.”

                “I thought you quit.”

                “I did. Doesn’t stop me wanting one.”

                “Okay. Well… I’d say something about your oral fixation and Mav but I don’t want to get black out drunk tonight to wipe the mental image. So. Bradley has a boyfriend. I’m assuming you picked up the little detail…”

                “Of course. He’s a naval aviator.”

                “Sure is!” Slider replies, and Tom can feel his overwhelming sense of amusement through the phone.

                “And you know who it is.”

                “Yep.”

                “Are you going to tell me?”

                “Hmm. Thinking about it.” Tom rolls his eyes.

                “Slider…”

                “Don’t you think it’s kind of funny? That despite everything, the kid has ended up with a naval aviator.”

                “Don’t marry them off yet.”

                “They’ve been together over three years, I won’t be marrying them off but I also wouldn’t be surprised to get an invitation in the mail.”

                “Three years…” Tom repeats, a little shocked and now feeling more hurt that for some reason Bradley didn’t share this. What reason did he come up with?

                “Yes. Now, with all the deployments it’s not quite the regular standard relationship, but Bradley knows that. And they… they’re sweet together. Reminds me of his dad that way.”

                That hits Tom like a one-two punch, because what does Bradley even remember of Carole and Nick’s relationship?

                “Call him and talk to him Tom. I think he’ll be more than ready to talk now.”

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone X Male Reader) pt 9

More fic! More fanart! A meme! Thank you once again @your-local-furby, yes I AM going to link back to your art every time. Get appreciated loser (affectionate).

Also, all future chapters are going to link back to the masterlist for this fic! You'll also find the ao3 link there, and I'm going to link the art made for the fic there as well once I've got everything posted.

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

“You’re honest to god hopeless,” Alik says, “I hate to say it, but you are.”

You hear Tartaglia, number Eleven, laugh at your attempt to hide your embarrassment in your hands. “Twice, twice, how did I do this twice?”

“Didn’t you almost trip on Pulcinella forever ago?”

“That was Pavel, and he was drunk at the time.”

“So you haven’t tripped over him yet, gotcha.”

You groan in irritation before finally lifting your head up out of your hands. Straight ahead is Alik, who is taking delight in your newfound tendency to trip into members of the Fatui. In the corner of your vision, you can make out a partial profile of Tartaglia, your latest victim, sitting next to you. In front of him is the drink you bought him as an apology. You cannot see his face fully, and you are so embarrassed that you’re actually very thankful for that fact.

“Does your friend do that a lot?” Tartaglia asks.

“Running into people, or specifically Harbingers?” Alik asks in turn.

“Harbingers.”

“More than the average person should, I think.”

Tartaglia laughs. “You said twice, right? I would say it’s more than average for sure, especially if you’re still alive to tell the tale!” 

“Oh come on, the others can’t be that bad, can they?” Alik jests.

“Depends on the Harbinger,” Tartaglia says, “and depends more on their mood. I would say the Knave, the Captain, and Mayor Pulcinella would be the most forgiving, though honestly, it feels like Arlecchino can be fifty-fifty some days.”

You catch Alik’s sly smirk. “What about the Regrator? Is he forgiving at all?”

“Well, yes and no,” Tartaglia answers. “He’ll forgive you if you can make it up to him in some way.”

Alik turns their smile to you. “Lucky you.”

You see the Harbinger turn his head towards you, and you turn your head so you can see his face. “Wait, you…?” Suddenly, his dull blue eyes widen in recognition, and he grins. “It was you! You’re the one who spilled wine all over his new suit!”

“... I see my reputation precedes me,” is all you can muster.

Tartaglia continues. “It was all he talked about for the next week, how he hadn’t even owned it that long and already it was ruined, how much of a pain getting the stains out would be, and a lot of figuring out how much he should bill you for it. I was surprised he didn’t bill you for the whole suit!”

“The shirt was fairly expensive,” you say.

“Still, with how annoyed he was all week, I thought making you pay the entire dry cleaning bill was the least he would do. He’ll also tack on what some of the lower ranking agents have dubbed ‘the asshole tax,’ or the ‘inconvenience fee,’ as he would rather people call it.”

That actually gets a bit of a chuckle out of you.

Tartaglia leans props his head up in his gloved hands, giving you an inquisitive look and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, do tell, what made him take pity on you?”

“It was an accident.”

This makes the Harbinger laugh. “No, no seriously, why?”

“... It was an accident.”

He shakes his head. “Pantalone doesn’t believe in accidents, he says they’re the result of negligence from people who should know better.”

“Just tell him you’re blind already,” Alik blurts out.

Tartaglia blinks. “What?”

“I’m legally blind,” you explain, “I have no peripheral vision, so I bumped into Pantalone and spilled wine on him because he wasn’t in my direct line of sight. I think he only made me pay for the shirt because he went on a rant about how foolish I am before my mother explained my condition to him.”

“Well, that’s certainly a new one,” Tartaglia comments, “he rarely takes pity on people, save for extreme cases.”

You take a swig of your beer instead of replying.

“Say, Tartaglia,” Alik says, prompting the young man to turn his attention away from you, “what else can you tell us about Pantalone?”

You shoot Alik a look. Tartaglia doesn’t see it, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “While I’m enjoying this little chat with you two, I’m afraid I can’t disclose too much about my more high ranking coworkers to anyone.”

“I’m not asking about his big plans for the bank or anything,” Alik says, “we just want to, I don’t know, learn some general information? Like what are some of his hobbies, or his favourite foods. Things to know if you want to get closer to him.”

“And why do you want to get to know him?”

“Oh, I don’t.” Alik points at you. “He does.”

You feel heat spread across your face, and it gets worse when Tartaglia looks your way, very intrigued. “Is that so?”

“I-I think I’m okay,” you state, “he and I, I mean I don’t know if we’re friends, b-but we get along fairly well! He’s partnered w-with my father, so I tend to run into him a lot, and we actually had tea the other day. Or, we were supposed to, but my parents decided to show up, so then after they left h-he and I had dinner so–”

“Pause,” Alik says, “you did not mention having dinner with him.”

“I didn’t?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I told you we still spent time after the ruined tea party,” you say, “does it matter if it was over dinner?”

“Pantalone doesn’t usually invite people to stay for dinner,” Tartaglia states, “I of all people should know.”

“He only did it because he wanted to discuss my book with me,” you explain, “but my parents’ intrusion hindered that. So he invited me to stay later.”

When Alik and Tartaglia look at you, they are both equally skeptical. You feel your face get hotter, and take another swig of your cold drink to cool yourself down. Then you remember it’s alcohol, so if anything it’s going to warm your face up even more. You stand up. “I’m going to the washroom,” you state, intending to splash water on your face and get out of the awkward situation you’ve put yourself in.

“Try not to bump into anyone else,” Tartaglia jokes, making your face burn hotter. When you walk away, you bump into a table, but that could just be the alcohol. When you disappear into the men’s washroom, Tartaglia turns back to Alik. “Pantalone certainly keeps interesting company when he wants to.”

Alik shrugs their shoulders. “I’ve only met him once, but I’ve known my poor sighted friend for years now, so I believe that.”

Tartaglia hums. He glances over his shoulder, seeing who and who isn’t listening. Most of the patrons are minding their business, and some are currently leaving the bar. Seeing the coast is clear, he turns back to Alik and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I assume your friend is happy about that, isn’t he?”

Alik chuckles. “What, ah, what gives you that impression?” 

“He’s not that subtle,” Tartaglia says, “and I might have overheard a little bit of your conversation before he ran into me.”

Alik lowers their voice so only the Harbinger can hear them. “Look, I’m not going to confirm anything, but true or not, it’s really important that we not let that sort of talk get around. As far as I’m aware, the Regrator might be fine with it, but his business partner, my friend’s father, is not.”

“Ah, I see.” Tartaglia takes a drink. “I can understand that. Rest assured, his secret is safe with me.”

Alik raises their brow. “That’s it? No blackmail or anything?”

Tartaglia chuckles. “No, that’s not how I do things. Ironically, that’s more the Regrator’s style, but he clearly likes your little friend.”

“Wait, do you mean ‘likes him’ in a friendly way, or…?”

Tartaglia smirks. “Who’s to say?” He takes another swig. “In all honesty, for someone who tends to drone on and on, he’s careful about his life outside the Fatui, or the bank. Though, I will say that even if I knew, Pantalone could and would have bought my silence.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot. You’d at least barter for a higher price, right?”

“I think he’d give me a satisfying amount on his first offer,” Tartaglia replies, “enough that I’d be smart enough not to push it.”

Alik tips their head back and pours the last bit of their drink into their mouth. They glance back at the bathroom, wondering when you’re going to come back. They jump a bit when Tartaglia places a hand on their shoulder, and motions for them to move in closer. Curious, they lean over a bit. Tartaglia cups his hands over their ear, and Alik shivers uncomfortably at the warmth of his breath.

“I’m not going to confirm anything,” he whispers, “but if your friend likes how things are progressing with Pantalone, I think you should let him keep doing whatever it is he’s doing.”

Alik pulls back a bit so Tartaglia isn’t whispering right in their ear. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. From what I hear, your friend is a ‘refreshing change’ compared to most,” Tartaglia continues, “so if he’s trying to get closer, he’s already on the way there if you catch my drift.”

The sound of a thud, a chair scraping, and a hissed curse is all Alik needs to hear to know you’re out of the bathroom. They look up and see you rubbing your knee, before you straighten up and begin making your way back to the table. Before you sit down, you look at the two and give them an odd look at their suspicious proximity.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

“Gossiping about your book,” Alik says.

“All the raunchy, lewd details,” Tartaglia adds.

You blush. “I told you I’m not adding that scene in.”

Tartaglia laughs. “I was just messing with you! You’re actually a smut writer?”

“No! Romance! Romance does not mean smut!”

“Not that he could write it, anyways,” Alik teases.

You sit down. “I wish I was blind already so I wouldn’t have to look at you.”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Tartaglia comments.

“No, that’s pretty normal when he’s grouchy,” Alik says.

You throw back the rest of your drink, your now empty glass clacking on the table. “Well, this has been… one of the outings of all time. I think I’d better get going soon.”

“We haven’t been out that long,” Alik says.

“No, but if I stay out later, I’m probably going to have a couple more drinks,” you say, “and I don’t want to be writing hungover tomorrow. Plus, my mother will have a conniption if I’m out later than ten and the more I avoid that headache, the better.”

Alik sighs. “Fair enough. I have an afternoon meeting tomorrow. It won’t do me any favours if I’m groggy during it.”

“I suppose this is goodbye, then,” Tartaglia remarks. He offers you a hand, and you awkwardly take it. His grip is firm when he shakes your hand. “Thanks again for the drink, comrade! And for keeping me entertained for the evening.”

“M-My pleasure,” you say, “and, on that note, sorry again for bumping into you.”

Tartaglia watches as you and Alik put your coats back on and pay for your drinks. Alik trails behind you, and waves at him before stepping through the door and disappearing into the night. In the quiet bar, he takes his time finishing his drink before he bids the bartender a warm goodbye.

His cheeks and nose are a warm red, contrasting his white foggy breath. Soft snow crunches under his boot, the clusters of flakes falling around him glowing in the moonlight. Eventually, his feet bring him to a building he is all too familiar with by now. The doors are locked now, but he has been given a key to the back door, which he has been told time and time again to only use in case of emergencies. He knocks the snow off his boots as best as he can before he enters the bank properly.

With one of the only other people in the building being a heavily armed guard, Tartaglia’s movements are practically broadcasted throughout the bank as he makes his way upstairs. He’s loud enough that he doesn’t need to0 knock on the Regrator’s door. He makes it to the door and lifts his hand up and is told to “come in.”

He’s polite enough to shut the door behind him when he enters. He gives his superior Harbinger a smile. “Good evening, Regrator.”

“You’re late,” Pantalone states, keeping his eyes on the paperwork he’s scribbling away at.

“My apologies,” Tartaglia states, “I had a little run in earlier.”

“And that’s the third time I’ve heard you use that as an excuse for being late.”

“You make it sound like I’ve made tardiness a habit!”

“I can also smell the alcohol on you.”

Tartaglia takes a seat. “Now you’re making it sound like I’m a drunk. Besides, it’s not as if this is an official meeting.”

Finally, the Regrator sets his pen down and looks up at Tartaglia, shimmering stony eyes meeting dull baby blues. “I don’t care if this is a casual outing or a serious business deal, you know my expectations, Eleven.”

“I wish you were as forgiving to me as you are with that writer fellow,” Tartaglia comments, watching Pantalone’s reactions like a hawk.

Pantalone stills for a moment, and though his expression remains mostly unchanged, the inquisitive tilt and slight arch of an eyebrow is enough to satiate Tartaglia. “The writer? Why are you bringing him up?”

“Who do you think I had a run in with?”

Pantalone’s lips finally curl, and he just chuckles. “Ah, you’d think he’d learn after our first encounter. You’ve met him now?”

Tartaglia nods. “He bought me a drink as an apology, and we talked a little bit about you.”

“Good things, I hope?” Pantalone remarks, and while it’s easy to tell when he’s fishing for information, his intentions are currently hard to read.

“His friend and I were mostly teasing him about the suit,” Tartaglia replies, “but other than that, it was just small talk.”

“I see, I see…”

“Better than he does.”

“Mm, it’s funnier when he makes the joke.” Pantalone opens a drawer and pulls out couple documents stapled together, reading them as he shuts the drawer. “I received your latest proposal, and after doing the math, I found that for once you actually deserve more mora as opposed to less. Not as much as you would have gotten before your time in Liyue, but I think you’re wise enough to be happy about that.” With his eyes still on the paper, he reaches into another drawer and pulls out a jingling pouch. Without looking up, he hands it to Tartaglia, who accepts it graciously. “Don’t let this get to your head, and please don’t mention it to Dottore. Specifically Segment Kappa, he’s still upset I only gave him half the funding for his latest project, but I told him I needed a functional prototype by the end of the month if he wanted the rest of it.”

“I know the drill,” Tartaglia replies, “and isn’t Kappa in Fontaine right now?”

“Something about studying scuba gear, I don’t know, all I know is he’s not bothering me right now and quite frankly, it’s all I really care about. Now, do you have anything else to say or ask before I send you on your way?”

“I take it your four-thirty meeting went poorly?”

“Why do you ask?”

“There’s some blood splatter still above your left eyebrow.”

Pantalone stops and lifts his hand up to his forehead. He rubs at the spot above his eyebrow, and when he pulls his fingers back, he can see his finger tips have slightly tacky red residue on them. 

He clears his throat. “Goodnight, Eleven.”

“Goodnight, Regrator.”

[temis-de-leon]

When they don't know you as well as they thought they did

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: the boys are crushing on MC and it's implied MC is crushing as well, but there isn't any established relationship. Just friends feeling things for their friend, very common. Self-insert, perhaps?

A/N: this is just fluff, very silly, a little ooc maybe, but I'm not sure. I just wanted to make something fun and lighthearted after the recent news.

.

No one is surprised anymore at the firmness the brothers speak with when they call you part of the family. Between the pacts and the unsolicited free therapy, it’s only fair, and only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see the affection running through the House of Lamentation.

Still, there are instances every once in a while where, although it’s difficult at the beginning, the boys have no other choice but to accept the fact that you have a completely different life back in the human world and they may not know you as good as they would like.

It starts with the small things; embarrassing conversations where their ignorance gets you to laugh like a maniac more than a couple of times. There they are, blushing in self-consciousness while you cackle uncontrollably because they believed some urban legend about a faceless suited man with freakishly long arms.

Then, slowly, but surely, it turns into more personal things about you, like your irrational, downright, phobia of lizards or the fictional characters you’re surprisingly attracted to.

(Some of those aren’t human, which makes them all feel a strong sense of hope, but you don’t need to know that).

The brothers learn about your studies, favourite subjects and what you’d like to do with your future, even if it sounds hopeless or unlikely. They also keep every bit of information about your friends and family; little comments that you let go here and there and help them understand why you are someone they love so much.

The whole situation evolves in such a way that inviting them to your birthday party in the human realm seems to be the obvious next step.

‘It’s so I can celebrate it with all my loved ones’ you say, and they really can’t deny your offer after that.

So, after a few awkward introductions and half-truths about their origin, everyone is happily talking to each other and eagerly waiting for their turn to be with you.

.

Lucifer, who has had a special interest in your family for a while, finds himself chuckling in understanding when your mother complains about the occasional mess in your room. In your defence, he feels obligated to partially throw his brothers under the bus and blame them for keeping you in a constant state of disarray, but then she says something that… perplexes him.

You don’t like perfection? His eyes open wide at the revelation and your mother chuckles, misinterpreting his expression. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he represents, after all.

Just how vast is the veracity of that statement? Does it refer only to a state of mind or do you apply it to everything else?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to feel too anxious before he remembers the little details. When your triumphal smile shone in the dimness of his room that time he made a silly mistake in chess, ultimately granting you the win; or when the Anti-Lucifer League managed to leave his hair unkempt for an entire day, which got you to shamelessly look at him for longer than any of his younger brothers would’ve ever liked.

Not being perfect isn’t something he would ever do consciously and he had always found solace in the fact that you like him despite his mistakes. However, knowing you actually like him because of those mistakes? Perhaps letting those cracks show in his façade isn’t so bad as long as it is for you.

.

Not far from him, Mammon chats with your human best friend. There’s an air of competitiveness between them, both wanting to be the ultimate best friend, but it all stays light-hearted. There’s no real threat when Mammon gets to be your first demon, you know? It’s a unique position!

But he still makes sure to assert dominance by stating he would’ve made the perfect party for you, better than the one you’re currently enjoying; with food and decorations from the Devildom and the Celestial realm included, matching outfits and, of course, keeping everything hidden so you can have the best surprise of your life. He had thrown a lot of those with Asmo’s help back home, so he knows you love them!

Or he thinks you do, at least.

Your friend sniggers harmlessly when they hear that last part, pointing at him with an infuriating smartass attitude, and immediately shatters Mammon’s reality.

What the heck do they mean, you don’t like surprise parties? He’d done a lot of those back at the Devildom and you’d never complained, appreciative as you are, even helping him do the same for other’s birthday parties!

Sure, you had always looked dumbfounded by the loud cheering and the confetti after stepping through the door, but that was part of the fun… right? You would tell him if you wanted him to stop, wouldn’t you?

He feels a pang in his heart when the idea of you being uncomfortable for his sake appears in his mind, but it doesn’t make sense. While you undeniably treat him better than anyone else in all of the realms, you still correct him when you see fit and him making you unhappy on your own birthday would be one of those occasions.

He trusts you to confide in him when things are wrong just as much as you trust him to do his best. That’s what friends are for, after all.

.

And where else would Levi be if not hidden in a corner playing with his DDD?

He had tried mingling with people at the party, or at least tried hanging around them, he swears, but conversations became repetitive and boring and then he received a notification for a daily reward from one of his apps, so, of course, he had to sit down to collect it. Then minutes passed as he completed minigames to power up his cards and… you get the idea.

So when a friend of yours walked towards him, complimenting the pins and badges on his bag and the faint music coming out of his headphones, sure, the evening started going way smoother.

He talks enthusiastically, just like any other time his interests are mentioned, wildly gesturing with his hands and letting the little bubble around them be full of their eager exchange. However, a casual lament from his companion stops him right in his tracks.

It’s a shame you don’t like anime…? His first reaction is to laugh, enumerating everything you’d watched, and later commented on, with him under a blanket in the tranquillity of his room, but the utter surprise in your friend’s face leaves him speechless.

You really don’t like it? But… But he’s made you see so many things! Did you like any of them? Did you lie to his face when you said you enjoyed them? He would’ve never chosen a best friend like that; you were not like that and he refused to believe the contrary.

Also, would a liar buy merch on their own like you did? Would they watch the best episodes again or listen to the soundtrack on repeat when they had a bad day? This new revelation only makes him aware he was the one to change your perspective of the fine arts and he’s damn proud of that.

You are still getting an earful when you get back home, though.

.

Satan thinks the kid is a young cousin of yours, but he really hasn’t been paying attention to anything in a long while. How could he, when the enthusiastic toddler had taken their mother’s phone just to show him the family cat’s pictures and videos?

A Mackerel tabby cat, too chubby for his own good but not enough to be actually concerning; playing with feathers, blinking slowly, bumping his head against legs and shoulders, meowing sweetly and, basically, opening his heart in half and making it roam inside his chest like a butterfly.

What a good party.

He mentions all the stray cats behind his house, obviously leaving behind the name of the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, and all the times you’ve gone with him to feed them and play. Satan even shows pictures on his DDD and stops with an adoring expression when you appear on the screen, sitting on your toes with a kitty on your knees and smiling past the camera, straight at Satan.

However, what he hears next takes the air right out of his lungs. He sits down and clutches his pearls and the kid stares at him in anxious confusion, clearly witnessing but not understanding the severity of his distress.

Who, in their right mind, doesn’t like cats?

He remembers the first few times you had accompanied him to his route, intimidated and slightly lingering behind. Initially, he had assumed it was due to the novelty of your friendship or a possible fear of Devildom fauna, but nothing against cats!

Were you afraid of them or just plain uninterested? Why keep going with him if you weren’t as fond of them as he thought you were? Wouldn’t it be because of him, would it?

A warm feeling covers him like a blanket, makes him search for you with his eyes and then immediately blush when you excitedly wave at him, point at the kid and mouth ‘Cute cat!’

Yeah. Very cute.

.

On the other hand, Asmo hangs out with the people responsible for the decorations of the party and compliments them on their work. The colours are well-coordinated, there’s nothing out of place and the distribution was thought with all the guests in mind.

Although he hasn’t been able to help in that regard, he’s made sure you would be the centre of attention that evening; a complicated feature coming from him, but he had never minded sharing the main spot just as long as you were the one by his side; and everyone knows that.

You look cute and pretty and hot in your outfit, a style that both compliments and pleases you. You also worked together in your makeup for hours before getting to the party.

However, taking that much time might have been due to scrolling through social media and gossiping so much, but never mind that. Everyone agrees you look incredible and that is more than enough for him.

It isn’t until one of your friends mentions how weird it is to see you wearing makeup that he dares take his eyes away from you to stare at them in disbelief.

He would’ve never guessed that given that one of your favourite pastimes together is makeup as a whole: going shopping, watching tutorials, following trends, doing your own next to each other, doing each other’s… And, even if he wants to use it, his charming power is useless against you, so he knows you do your makeup because you want to and not because you feel forced by him.

Whether it’s something you share because you enjoy it or something you enjoy because you share it with him, he isn’t sure, but he can swear on his precious damned soul that makeup isn’t a need for you.

It’s just a bonus to your beauty.

.

Sitting at one of the tables, Beel is simultaneously talking to your older sibling while gulping down an entire plate of bite-sized snacks; thankfully, whatever apprehension anyone felt at his hunger died hours ago and now the conversation flowed more naturally, mainly centred around you.

As much as he loves having you near him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation and thinking of you as another member of the family, he is very interested in knowing how your human family is, especially your siblings. It’s another way of relating to you and making him feel closer.

Plus, he gets to know stories from your childhood you may never tell him on your own; anecdotes that will stay at the table he is currently sharing with your sibling.

Unfortunately, they reach a point where, although he wants to keep asking questions about you, doing so with a mouth full of food might end up with Lucifer’s scolding of the year. Also, he really wants to make a good impression.

So your sibling begins asking the questions. Surprisingly, they start with his tattoo; dark red curling around his muscles and almost going unnoticed under the colours of dusk. Beel smiles without giving it any importance because it really doesn’t have it, but forces himself to stop gulping down food when your sibling throws a fun fact about you.

You find tattoos attractive?

He feels an instant burning on his cheeks followed by the rapid beating of his heart and a knot in his stomach, but there’s also a faint unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.

You’ve never asked him about his tattoo, barely sparing a glance at it when you worked out together or he took off his jacket.

He wonders if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t look good on him because all he can remember is the focused look in your eyes while looking at his and the curve of your smile growing bigger as you listen to whatever he says, even when it is entirely about food, and…

You know what? He doesn’t really mind. He is fine with things as they are.

.

As both a friend of yours and a fellow younger brother, Belphie respects your sibling’s decision to spill your darkest secrets and thoroughly enjoys the air of comradery between them.

Don’t worry, he won’t let it go past actual serious matters; if you want him to know any of that, he’d rather have you telling him yourself when you’re ready and not get betrayed by your sibling. Silly and harmless pieces of information, however? Those are more than welcome.

And he already has a favourite.

You need to hug plushies to sleep? Tell him more. He doesn’t judge you for feeling the need to hug toys or pillows while sleeping. Actually, he understands.

Do you have a favourite? Is it in the human realm or is it in your room back at the House of Lamentation? While he can recall seeing that ugly zombie iguana on your bed, he’s never seen you cuddling it while sleeping and, other than that, he doesn’t remember seeing one, so he wonders if you hide it somewhere when you know he’s going to your room; but what about those times he enters uninvited?

Does that mean you left your preferred plushie in your room in the human realm? Does that mean that you don’t actually need to hug anything to sleep?

Whenever you share a bed, which is pretty frequent, Belphie can sense an invisible barrier between you that he’s dying to break. It’s nothing physical, given that only he knows how truly comfortable your lap and your chest are, but it’s obvious in the way your hands hesitate to bring him closer.

Shy and indecisive, while you don’t reject his advances, he’s still unsure what your feelings on the matter are. He’d initially thought you weren’t used to having anything so close to you while sleeping, but… now… Maybe he has to assure you that you can hug him as hard as you want.

Belphie is just as good as any plushie, after all; if not better.

.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[epickiya722]

Izuku rejecting an offer to work together with Katsuki, turning his back to him and RUNNING to go after Ochako and her getting literally pushed towards him by the ghost of Toga.

I'm sorry, but, no way i'm reading it wrong. Like. Seriously. They really were just devices for the underdeveloped het ship.

I'm still waiting for the whole chapter to make sense of it, but that is painful.

However, just me, but I do feel like this epilogue is just an amalgamation of fanfic tropes that the team are well aware that people like.

I saw someone say that BakuDeku shippers are wrong about thinking that Horikoshi is pushing IzuOcha for dudebros, but let's be real.

He ain't stupid. I don't know Horikoshi personally, but I know the man ain't stupid or don't have the marketing team telling him what fans are into.

"If that's the case why BakuDeku isn't canon?" Hello, still a Shonen. And also, BakuDeku has already been catered to. Literally, most of the manga is BakuDeku fuel.

Now, I personally don't even think this chapter is a IzuOcha one. At least, not romantically.

Just because Izuku and Ochako agree to see each other more doesn't mean it's romantic. I said it into another post, but I think people forgotten that the class didn't have time to see each other often.

Going back and rereading the manga, I note that Izuku and Ochako barely do have time to actually have a conversation between each other. They have better relationships with other people. Most of the time, Ochako was with Tsu. Right now, they even rocking the same bangs.

Despite all the shipping material, romance ain't the genre I don't think Horikoshi is into writing for. No matter the gender of the characters.

He wasn't expecting MHA to get so popular and to keep it up, he probably decided to play into what the fans want at the advice of his editors.

After 430, certain people made it very clear they were butthurt. So to appease them, here's this epilogue. But it still doesn't mean much because their relationship, in a romantic sense, is underdeveloped. I wouldn't call that a win.

Now I know everyone and their mom is mad at Izuku for rejecting Katsuki's offer to join his agency, but I say this with love... that's ridiculous.

Oh, I know hurtful that Katsuki got rejected like that but when did Izuku or Katsuki ever voiced wanting to have an agency together? I just thought they wanted to be Heroes.

And Izuku just became a Pro Hero. He needs time, hello? To spring that on him, I would reject the offer, too. Izuku has to sit down and work on his schedule between being a teacher and a Pro Hero.

People are acting as if Izuku can't change his mind in the future. Katsuki is great and all, that's my boom boom gremlin right there. But he is not that special that people should expect Izuku to always fall at his feet. At the end of the day, their relationship did get better. They still see each other and who says they need to be in the same agency to fight together?

Are you fucking with me right now?

There's also the fact that Izuku may feel like Katsuki already has done too much for him. The suit is already enough for him. He's not ungrateful.

Izuku is the type of person who finds it hard to accept anything from anybody because he would feel he's taking too much away from someone. You can give him a shirt and he would think it's too much.

And people are hating him for that?

Alright, okay. I never thought Izuku Midoriya would be the most misunderstood protagonist in the year of 2024. Wait, no, why am I surprised? I shouldn't be.

Bakudeku shippers don't get him. IzuOcha shippers don't get him. Izuku fans don't get him. Izuku haters don't get him.

It's like only a selective few do. Which I feel are like two or three people. Within 24 hours, I have unfollowed and blocked people I didn't think I would have to, but here we are.

[dykedvonte]

I think acting like Jimmy’s struggles on Earth were like legal or related to being a criminal are so odd. Not in a bad way but just odd.

Like don’t get me wrong, I personally believe he’s had a run in with the law but I feel like it’d be minor, not even something that would get him a record. It could’ve, but it was dropped, not worth the time to pursue someone that down on their luck, probably not a dime to his name.

He’s a bad guy don’t get me wrong but it’s seems like his issues were with not being well-adjusted? In the whole sense, he’s snarky and unnecessary rude. He’s quick to anger and says things to pit people against each other. He likely doesn’t have many friends and we know he’s not financially well. I think tacking on bad traits diminishes the fact of what he did. Trying to fit him to that obviously evil arch type is a little bland to what he actually is. He’s normal enough to be a minor blip on the radar and that’s how he gets away with what he does.

Jimmy is ultimately scared of being in trouble. He gets into it but panics. He hates being confronted and he just doesn’t do things were he knows or perceives a bad outcome will happen to him.

[mermaidlighthouse]

At the local market

Stede wanders over to the fishmonger: is there anything you have that I could use to make a simple dish? I’m not the bes..

Fishmonger: SIMPLE?!?!?!?!

Ed: Pop pop he didn’t mean it *starts pulling a confused Stede away*

Pop pop: YOU?!?!

Stede: 🤨 Pop…pop??????????

Ed: ☹️ shut up and run

[abyssalpriest]

Damnit lev lmfao. I was thinking about Shiva wearing corpse ash being resonant for other reasons, something about his relationship with the Bright Skinned Ones and death and whatever. No, no. More fucking importantly: Oh I wonder why Shiva is known for. you know. wearing bodies. his appearance is a mass of bodies joined together. yeah

[niuxita21]