#sort of fluff?

[honnelander]

go fish!

so i fell in love with Sanji just like everyone else. i've never seen the one piece anime or read the manga so i'm solely going off of the live action. i had fun writing this and plan to make this a series of some sorts where it's a fem!reader x Sanji moments of awkwardness, fluff, and mutual pining because i love reading that stuff myself. if anyone has any suggestions or requests for this series please leave a comment or send me an ask!

WARNINGS: none

word count: 1.3k

pairing: opla!sanji x reader

summary: reader and Usopp are playing a card game when Sanji finds them. teasing ensues.

prequel part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist

“Care for a refreshment, Madam?” a smooth, deep familiar voice asked to your left, breaking your concentration on the card game in front of you. 

“Hm?” you looked up from the cards in your hand and saw the Going Merry’s own chef looking down at you with a crooked, charming smile as he held a chilled glass bottle of water in his hand. “Oh, hey Sanji,” you greeted quickly with your usual smile as you looked back down at your hand. “What’d you say? Go fish Usopp.” 

Your opponent across the barrel from you grumbled as he took the top card off the deck sitting between you both. 

“I was just asking if the lovely madam sitting here would like a nice, cold refreshment on this particularly hot day?” Sanji asked again with a hint of amusement, his crooked smile deepening as he watched you study your hand once again. 

“’Lovely madam’?” Usopp repeated sarcastically, his eyebrows pulling together. “What about offering her super buff, brave, and heroic opponent an ice-cold beverage instead?” 

“Nope,” Sanji corrected, popping the 'p'. “Ladies first Usopp. Always.” 

Even after knowing Sanji for a couple of months now, his consistent chivalry always managed to make your heart flutter.  

You laughed lightly and couldn’t help but smirk as you said with a matter-of-fact, teasing tone, “Just say you wish you were a girl, Usopp. No judgment here.” You paused for a moment before asking, “You got the five of spades?” 

“Now even though I would make an extremely attractive, gorgeous woman, I am a man through and through.” A grin broke out on Usopp’s face as he glanced at his hand and triumphantly called out, “Go fish, y/n.” 

“Fair enough,” you hummed as you reached for a card. “And yes Sanji, I would love a glass of cold water. Thank you.” You shot a quick look of gratitude the chef’s way as you took a card from the deck. 

Sanji placed the two glasses onto your makeshift barrell-table top he was holding in his left hand and started filling up the glasses with water. “Of course. Anything for the missus.” 

Missus. Ugh. It made your heart skip a beat to hear him call you that. But you knew he didn’t really mean anything by it. It was just how Sanji spoke, forever the gentleman. 

“Oof. If you keep sweet talking like that Sanji, you’re going to even make me blush, just like y/n,” Usopp joked. 

Your eyes widened as your eyes snapped to look at your dumbass crewmate and friend sitting across from you. “I- I am not blushing Usopp!” God, if you both were using a real table instead of a barrel right now you would’ve broken his shine with your foot. You really weren’t blushing before but Usopp’s stupid comment definitely made your cheeks heat up now. “It’s the heat,” you hissed.  

“’Heat’,” he mocked with air quotes and snorted. “Right.” 

“I-” before you could defend yourself, Sanji spoke up. 

“Actually,” the blonde chef chimed in with a light laugh as he filled the second glass, “that’s why I came over in the first place. You were looking a little flushed y/n, so I thought you guys could use a cold drink.” 

Sanji’s words caused both you and Usopp to look up from your cards simultaneously, making eye contact with each other. A mischievous grin started to form on Usopp’s face as he saw the blush deepen on your face. You quickly looked back to your hand, suddenly finding the eight of clovers card extremely interesting.  

Sanji saw you looking flushed? He saw you? From across the deck? From inside the kitchen’s window? He was watching you play cards? The thought of Sanji watching you when you didn’t expect him to made your stomach erupt in butterflies, and it certainly didn’t make your stupid little crush on him go away. Just the opposite. In fact, it just fueled your delusional fantasy even more.  

And it certainly didn’t help that the only person who knew about your crush on the head chef just so happened to have a big mouth and loved to tease you about it any chance he got. And that he was sitting right across from you right now, watching all of this unfold right in front of him. 

“Oh? So you were watching y/n and I play cards out here?” Usopp innocently asked his blonde crewmate, but you knew better. There wasn’t an ounce of true curiosity in his tone whatsoever. 

“Yeah, from the kitchen,” Sanji answered casually as he recapped the glass water bottle. 

“Usopp,” you warned. 

“And you said that she looked ‘flushed’?” Usopp asked, quirking a brow at the end of his question as he turned his gaze from you to Sanji. 

Sanji blinked in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together for a second before looking down at his crewmate. “Yeah...” he said slowly before continuing, “Her cheeks looked a little pink so I figured-” 

“Oh?” Usopp asked, his voice becoming louder. “You noticed the color of her cheeks, from that far away?” 

“Usopp,” you hissed louder but it fell on deaf ears. Once your friend got on a roll, there was little anyone could do about it. Especially when it came to teasing you about your feelings for Sanji. 

“Yeah,” Sanji replied to Usopp’s question with a confused smile. “What are you-” 

“GO FISH!” you blurted out loudly, cutting Sanji off and having both men turn their eyes towards you.  

“Huh?” Usopp blinked his eyes at you, suddenly remembering the game in front of him. “But I didn’t even ask you anything y/n. And you just drew a card, so it’s your turn to ask me.” 

You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that Usopp stopped grilling Sanji with all of those embarrassing questions right in front of you....even though you couldn’t help but perk up at the fact that Sanji in fact had been watching you from the kitchen, and that he was sweet enough to bring you (and Usopp) some water.  

“Well, I tried,” you shrugged and lied, “but you just kept yapping so you didn’t hear me. Do you have the Queen of hearts?” 

Usopp studied you for a brief moment before looking at his cards, smirking to himself. “You know y/n, it’s funny you asked about the Queen of hearts,” he said as he plucked the requested card from his hand and reached out to give it to you, “since you make heart eyes yourself whenever you look at-” 

“GOOD game Usopp!” you practically yelled as you threw your cards down onto the barrel and stood up, hoping your outburst drowned out the name Usopp was about to so stupidly blurt out. You shook his free hand with both of yours as you said, “You totally win my friend.” 

“What?” Sanji laughed slightly as he watched you and Usopp shake hands. The poor guy was as confused as ever. “But the game isn’t over.” 

You looked Usopp dead in the eye as tightened your grip on his hand. “Oh no, it’s over. He definitely won.”  

Yeah, he won alright. He won the game of making your life a living hell and embarrassing you in front of Sanji. He won the gold medal in that game. 

“I sure did,” Usopp agreed triumphantly, putting his cards down. 

You dropped his hand and took the glass of cold water that Sanji had so generously poured, the cold glass making you feel better already. “Thank you for this Sanji. I think I’ll go enjoy this on my hammock inside.” 

You couldn’t bear to look at Sanji, feeling humiliated for no reason with your face on fire, you stepped away from the barrel sipping your water as you made your way across the deck towards the ship’s living quarters.  

“Yeah, that’s a good idea y/n!” Usopp called, giddy from the high that could only come from successfully teasing a friend. “Maybe that’ll help calm down your flushed face!” 

Before stepping inside, you flipped off a laughing Usopp, completely missing the brief look of disappointment in Sanji’s eyes as he watched you go. 

[popponn]

rin who suddenly makes a habit of saying “i love you” to you every morning. he is determined, awkward, and somehow sort of always shouts that declaration every morning. very honest and red too. it's cute and very confusing to see.

isagi whose first response to trying new food is: will you like it? if you will, he immediately sends photos and a “let's get this next time”. he remembers your taste by heart, so it is not hard. the hard part is that sometimes he accidentally blurts it out loud and gets teased hell and back by his friends.

kaiser who can't act teasing or suave to save his life after realizing his feelings for you. now he acts like a classic tsundere male lead who is also protective and respectable in a lot of departments except his attitude. unless you got involved, then somehow he gets more obedient like a ruffled, flustered puppy.

reo who will unconsciously buy everything related to your liking or interest. it's not by purpose, but if the feeling says it will make you happy—what's the reason not to? if you also do the same to him, the something you buy will be treated with utmost care in the world.

[t0rturedangel]

How about the Hazbin hotel gang with seraphim child reader who just somehow appeared after ep 8

╭ . . . 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 ੭

𝐇���𝐙𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ⿻  𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦??

⌦ 𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 ﹕angel dust - swearing, just him being him. Alastor - ill intent, possible swearing. Mentions of killing, mentions of blood. Nifty - she tries to kill you, dw you dont die. this too me so long im gonna cry

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ okay, firstly just know that the crew goes fucking crazy- I mean they just fought an entire army of exorcist angels and killed Adam, the first man Adam!! So they all think that you're sort of there to try and punish them all for it, so they all get ready to attack (even though you're LITERALLY a child, children are wild though)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ that's until Charlie, bless her heart, recognizes you (and depending on if you tried to defend her in court just like Emily) and rushes up to you, holding her arms out happily- thats until Angel Dust surprisingly tries to stop her

"It's you!" Charlie gasped, her eyes widening in a pleasant surprise, you were the third and youngest seraphim and much like your older sister Emily felt the need to defend Charlie and her idea of redemption- the thought of allowing those who suffered to see the error of their ways and correct them and then given their reward of eternal peace sounded brilliant, much like Emily you were horrified to learn of the exterminations. You were the first one to openly agree to what Charlie had said despite Adam's comments and facial expressions, you also helped Emily in trying to make the court see what was wrong with this method, unfortunately your plans did not work, though Charlie remembered your efforts and clearly she enjoys your presence. At the glee in her tone, you smiled and stepped forward, wanting to give a hug to the princess of hell though paused in confusion when someone looking oddly like a spider stopped her.

"Woah there toots!" the spider called out to his friend, grabbing her arm to halt her movement- Angel dust was staring both you and Charlie down- a look of uncertainty and distrust painted all over his face "Why ya going to rando angels? what if they were sent down here to finish the job for Adam?", Angel did have a point- you appeared put of no where and was just standing outside the hotel? pretty suspicious.. though Charlie is quick to cool things down "Oh no no no! They're alright, they're a friend! They mean no harm at all- in fact [name] was one of the angels who supported my idea!" she turned to you joyfully, smiling from ear to ear "We can trust them!" ... "okay but how did they end up here? in uh hell?" Husk piped up, his voice full of boredom- or annoyance (you can never really tell with husk, what an odd man) "Oh I fell! ... or rather- I threw myself out of heaven" you happily answered the question, giving everyone a quick second to process what the actual fuck you just said.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ thats how you joined the hotel! Pretty nice innit??

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Charlie adores you! you're such a sweet little thing, you're a sweetie and are just so kind to everyone!! (at least that's what she likes to think)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she thinks of you as a little small sibling!, after all you're the youngest of the team and act just like her, plus she always wanted a little sibling so you're perfect!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ any ideas she thinks of or any redemption exorcises she runs them by you- to see if they can be more or less effective to get her friends into heaven

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Since Charlie could only stay in heaven for so long, she loves to ask you about heaven and how it was like- always being so invested in your stories, she honestly cannot get enough of them!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ also, Charlie is... painfully aware that she can never get into heaven, ever. Afterall, she's not only a hell-born but also literally the heir to the throne of hell so yeah there is no chance for her redemption, something she cannot handle- she cries knowing this but now that she has you- someone who ran from heaven, actively choosing to leave and come here gives her comfort. Now she'll never be alone, she has you and you have her!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ At first, Lucifer was startled and untrusting of you- you're a seraphim, someone that was just like him and could possibly actually take him down despite you being an actual child.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ over time, the king of hell did grow warmer to you, after all he sees a bit of himself in you. Both ex-angels, both hate heaven.... it's like you're his second little one!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Sometimes, when lucifer isnt busy with his actual child, he hangout with you- entertaining you with his magic while you return the favor with little stories and things, sometimes you even create little gifts like flowers for him.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Lucifer vows to keep you safe, even though you can easily take down hundreds of sinners and even overlords, it's paternal instincts what can i say?

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ this man totally makes you ducks- he has enough experience in making ducks so you know own a few dozen in your hotel room- how lovely!!

𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ oh this man, this radio demon. He's out for your soul, absolutely hell-driven to get it, and it's all for power (who could have guessed)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He doesnt like kids, in fact he can confirm that he absolutely HATES children though he will act all kind and lovely to you- remember though it's all an act! don't fall for it, he just wants your soul (if he gets your soul, your angelic soul? fuck- he'll be even more powerful than before, having an angel's soul would make him practically invincible!)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ This guy, funny fella really. HE CANNOT BUGGER OFF. Whenever you need help with anything he's the first to appear and offer a helping hand- and then in return as a favor back asks for a deal- is he serious? (yes. he always is)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Alastor though also, much like everyone else becomes a a bit soft for you- occasionally creating those little weird shadow creatures to play with you, since everyone around you are adults and are busy it's a way of keeping you entertained when they're busy

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He, also, understands that you are more powerful than him- and knows that if he gets on your nerves enough he'll probably become dust.

𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ at first, Nifty only had one goal: to kill you (hey don't blame her! Charlie told her to stab and she's still under that impression)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ good for you though!! coz you fly up right as she even tries to stab her dagger through your chest- Charlie and Vaggie immediately grabbing nifty to stop her from moving and killing you.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ after the whole misunderstanding, Nifty actually enjoys begin with you! you're clean, and help kill bugs (well really it's you pointing the bugs out to Nifty and her killing them)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ You're, unsurprisingly, taller than Nif so she likes to climb up on you and sit on your shoulders or stand on your back while holding onto your shoulders. She finds you the most comfortable to climb- plus she can hide in your wings and be used as a secret weapon.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she adores playing with roaches with you- while you are grossed out by it slightly, you still play to entertain Nifty (then after you sanitize your whole body about ten times)

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ angel tends to avoid you, not out of hate or spite or anything- it's just.... well he is aware of how he is and well he doesnt want to ruin you in the sense of his dirty talk and swearing.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ though occasionally he finds himself stuck looking after you, which is.... fun.... no i mean really its fun as fuck!!! Angel makes all sorts of jokes, offers you alcohol (you did almost take it if it werent for husk and practically everyone else to all collectively pry the bottle of vodka out of your hands)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ angel dust also teaches you some very creative swear words! so now, whenever you feel like talking you run around screaming weird insults at people, Alastor has heard you shout "EAT ASS AND DIE HORSE FACE FUCK BITCH!!" a few times to random sinners

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ The... star, is actually proud of teaching you those words- hey if you wanna stay in hell you gotta act like it!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ hides you away from Val- though somehow you still find out about him, and when you learnt how he treated your spider-friend.. uhm, the studio was in smithereens and val was close to death- now permanently loosing his right arm (just his right arm for now)

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐊

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ to you, Husk is like the weird- drunk uncle who just got out of prison. Though, he's the cool drunk uncle.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Husk doesnt really speak to you, which is brilliant coz you dont really speak- so the two of you communicate through looks and gestures, leaving everyone in the hotel watching you two 'talk' very confused.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ never gives you alcohol, no matter how much you ask with 'cherries on top' and if he does catch you with any intoxicating drinks he snatches them off of you- scolds you a bit then drinks the beverage himself.... hypocrite

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Husk helps you avoid Alastor, he doesnt want to see you being under his clutches, you dont deserve that you're just a kid.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He also teaches you how to do magic tricks just incase you ever want to become a magician... and sometimes he teaches you how to play card games- or how to gamble

𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ In all honestly, Vaggie is very much threatened by you- because like, do i even need to say it?? YOU'RE A SERAPHIM !!!!!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Buttt as long as Charlie is okay with you and you don't pull any stunts to try and sabotage the team you're alright! Just dont try anything.... please

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she accidently treats you like a soldier sometimes- a habit from her exorcist days, speaking of you could immediately tell she was one of those angels and while you did not like her at first you grew to like her- viewing her as a second older sister

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ you and Vaggie sometimes sit and remember old times in heaven- and you'd ask about the exterminations, though quickly stopped after noting her discomfort.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Vaggies also likes to try and swap weapons with you- to see if she and you can handle other weapons (unsurprisingly you both adapt quite quickly)

[holy--milk]

it's kinda wild to see people confidently draw parallels between liu qingge and mu qing 'cuz like. that never happened. those two barely have anything in common except for the fandom deciding that they're similar for some reason???

you know who's actually the TGCF version of liu qingge?

quan yizhen.

obsessed with martial arts ✅️

has no qualms about beating you up if you anger or irritate him ✅️

doesn't know how to socialise ✅️

doesn't like most people ✅️

has a complicated history with his shixiong who's attitude towards him changed suddenly and drastically ✅️

possibly wants to fuck his shixiong ✅️

[dragon-ascent]

Zhongli often sees couples strike cute poses for the kamera, capturing memorable moments in unique ways. Zhongli is naturally elegant for sure, but...he wonders if posing for pictures on a casual date is an artform that requires something of a different tune. Something that renders his elegance into stiffness.

Therefore, he decides he'd like to improve his own posing game for you.

Hmm...he has a picnic date with you coming up this weekend. Zhongli will do everything in his power to make sure you have the most enjoyable day, of course, but if he can even spruce up the pictures you take - well, that'd be the icing on the cake.

And thus he spends his free time practicing all sorts of trendy things - regular hearts, finger hearts, cat-eared hearts, winking (something he finds a little challenging), blowing kisses, and the like.

He even takes the height-adjustable coat hanger and sets it to around your height, practicing making couple-hearts, hugging the hanger from behind, giving it cheeky little horns on top where the head would go, and all the while his mind's eye envisions you as his stomach gets warm and fuzzy.

That's not where the practice ends: when he's out and about on the streets, he sometimes drops everything to pose, suddenly having remembered a couple of hand positions that couldn't wait until he gets home to try out and polish. Some passersby think the funeral parlor consultant has gone loony; must be all the death and sorrow finally taking a toll on him.

As he makes hearts at a puppy watching him curiously, tail wagging with every gesture, Zhongli smiles to himself. Perfect.

When y'all go on that picnic, you're squealing in elation the whole time during the photo-taking session. Everyone around you even watches in awe as the "old soul" Zhongli makes winky faces and peace signs.

[lovlidollie]

thinking abt the first time rafe sleeps over at dollie!readers place and he sees reader doing like crazy prep before bed

she’s got like the heatless curl rods with a scarf on top and then she has the glass skin face mask with a pore strip, mouth tape, an eyemask, and earplugs

he’s just giving her a “😦” type look and she’s just like “s’part of being a girl rafey :)”

THIS IS SO HER THIS IS SO DOLLIE!READER

like imagine if her parents were finally out of the house for a while and she convinced rafe to sleep over. he’s expecting a normal night, only to walk in on her sat at her vanity.. in the dark.. with three vanilla candles burning. she’s got her hair up in an elaborate updo with what to him looks like “pool noodles.” she’s got pink, glittery eye patches on top of blue goop (it’s a cryo rubber mask rafe 🙄) and there’s a facial steamer positioned under her. he just stands there in disbelief, jaw honestly on the floor because what the actual fuck. AND THEN she pulls out the led light therapy mask and rafe can’t stop the way his eyes squint in bewilderment and how his hands come up to gesture at her wildly. surely .. surely this wasn’t an every night thing..? he’d never seen sarah do anything like this, not even rose had this elaborate of a routine.

he literally grimaces when she turns to face him, red leds glowing ominously. she smiles at him when she says “s’part of bein’ a girl rafey!” in her bubbly voice, but doesn’t register that he can’t… actually see it … innocently says “..what?” when he doesn’t respond and just keeps staring …

(also side note i feel like doing all these things at the same time would just cancel each other out.. dollie’s just a lil dumb n doesn’t realise that having eye patches on top of a mask makes it literally useless. she jus does it to feel girly :3)

[ohdeerfully]

Spoilers ahead for the final episode!

Imagine reader being a healer for others but is cursed to not being able to heal themselves.

Like during the final battle, their skills are heavily relied on while they also fight along side them. Afterwards they rush to find their lover Alastor to heal the wound on his abdomen. Poor thing was so worried about healing him that they forgot about patching up themselves.

hello everybody im alive........... hello hold your applause /j

i got two very similar requests so i combined them into one! hope thats alright with the two anons! hugs and kisses

Stitches

alastor x reader (fluff) TW: nothing serious, just some briefly graphic(ish) descriptions of violence/gore, reader referred to as female but doesnt influence plot

join my discord!

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It was supposed to be “no big deal” for him; that’s what he had promised you. You worried, of course, but knew better than to pester and beg for him to change his mind. Plus… of all demons to hold back Adam, Alastor seemed like the most capable. You had to trust him. He promised.

You were in the midst of slaying an Exterminator of your own, cutting it down with a sword lined in angelic steel, but you couldn’t help that your train of thought kept returning to the Radio Demon, who was currently on the roof of the Hotel maintaining a forcefield that prevented more angels from joining the battle.

You allowed your eyes to glimpse up towards said roof even though you knew it’d be impossible to see him from your position on the ground. You had looked just in time, however, to see the shield that surrounded the battleground begin to dissolve, an opening blooming around the figure of Adam. 

A sickly cold feeling of dread churned down your spine and into your stomach, but you forced yourself to stay focused. Alastor would be fine, surely. It’s not like he said it was an invincible shield. You had other things to worry about, anyway, when you realized a wasp-like swarm of Exterminators had made their way in from the dissolving forcefield, their glittering white wings and shining angelic weapons molding together in a blur.

You fought along a small group of demons from Cannibal Town, providing aid and healing when possible. It seemed to go on for hours; stab an angel, tear one away from a companion, heal, stab, save, heal… it somehow began to feel monotonous and repetitive. Your whole body stung, littered with wounds ranging in extremity, but you couldn’t stop. Not if you were going to win this thing.

That monotony was broken when the chaos halted for a brief moment—not even a second. You had seen Charlie looking up in… fear? Shock? So, you looked, and your breath hitched. It took you a moment to process.

Why was Adam flying above, looming, grinning, analyzing… Why, when Alastor was supposed to be keeping him occupied? The immediate answer that came to mind brought back that sickening feeling from earlier, but increased a hundredfold. It seemed that Charlie also had a similar idea.

You couldn’t ignore the feeling this time and, against your better judgment, took off towards the crumbling Hotel, abandoning your position as healer. They could wait, honestly. The pounding in your ears and anxiety in your body clouded the sensation of angelic spears grazing past you, filling your already burdened body with more gashes.

You were halted by a powerful beat of wings, wind pushing you backwards onto your back. You scrambled into a sitting position, leaning on your arms. All of the aching, stinging pain from the night seemed to rush in all at once because of the interruption, and you could barely keep your eyes steady on the man in front of you.

The first man, at that—standing all too high-and-mighty above you, a twisted grin curling up his mask. 

“Hey, bitch,” He said almost casually, grabbing you by the hair and lifting you up to be eye level with him. You stifled a pained cry at the sensation, though your eyes filled with tears, betraying both your fear and pain. You hated yourself for looking so weak in front of Adam, but you were almost too exhausted to mask it.

“The fuck did you do to Alastor?” You talked through a mouthful of blood. You spat some out in his face, to which the grip on your head tightened but he seemed otherwise unbothered. You did see a glint of madness in his eyes, though.

“So you’re that fine babe of his?” Adam mocked, looking up and down tastelessly. You didn’t expect much more from the ‘dickmaster’ but you couldn’t help but feel disgusted. “Satan’s daughter told me all about you when she was trying to tell me you gross fucks could be redeemed.”

He started rambling out a multitude of insults and curses. It seemed fitting, you thought, that the stuck-up first man would be too full of himself to keep his guard up and just start going off on a tangent about how cool and awesome he is versus how gross and weak your kind is.

“I mean, the fuck? You all sucked ass at being alive, so why the shit would we let you up into heaven? And, quite frankly, too fucking ugly to live up th—” He choked on the last few words he had, his eyes widening in shock and pain. He dropped you to the ground.

During his rant you had managed to use your heel to kick up a stray spear from beneath you. His tirade had given you enough time to balance the weapon between your feet, aim, and jam it forward into his stomach. The robe he wore darkened, glistening gold seeping into the fabric and from the hole you punctured into him.

“You–” He spat, hovering his shaking hands around the impaled spear. He gingerly pressed a hand against the wound, lifting his bloody palm to his face to look at the mess. He looked up, down, up again, and took a quivering step towards you. There were a million expressions in his eyes all at once; rage, fear, pain, disgust… 

“You fucking bitch,” He took another step, reached a hand out towards you. “You can’t kill me! Nobody can kill Adam! You’re just a worthless, sick, good-for-nothing sinner that couldn’t—fuck!” He stumbled and fell forward, and you jerked away as his fist nearly closed around the hem of your shirt. As much as you hated the guy and wanted him dead, you still cringed at the sight of him falling onto the spear and impaling it completely through his body.

You heard a distant cry of his name, but you didn’t hesitate to see who it was. You took off into the hotel, albeit slowed by a painful limp, and made your way up the stairs towards the radio tower.

There was an ominous feeling in the air as you ascended the ladder into the nearly demolished tower, slowly opening the hatch into the room. An intense, static-y feeling smothered your senses, hair raising and skin prickling at the sensation. You ignored the uncomfortable feeling and peered around the dark room. 

Claw marks and a trail of blood caught your attention, leading your eyes towards a corner where the demon you wanted to see most sat against. He had been wordlessly watching you with glowing red eyes since you entered.

“Al,” You said almost breathlessly as you rushed forward, ignoring the way your leg shot pain throughout your body in protest. You fell gracelessly to your knees in front of him.

“I don’t want you here,” He said rather plainly, a hiss in his voice as he spoke through his teeth and a grimace of a smile. You ignored the comment, eyes traveling over his body before settling on his palm, which was pressed against his abdomen. There was a still-growing patch of dark blood seeping through his shirt and between his fingers.

You reached your hand out towards him, flinched to a halt for a moment when his claws tightened around the fabric of his shirt, but continued. He made no move otherwise to stop you, but you could feel the tension in the air growing as the static ambience got louder.

“I can take care of myself,” He said, his other hand suddenly snatching your wrist. His grin widened, but his eyes narrowed. You frowned at him.

“Yeah, but it’d be a lot easier for me to just fix you now,” You retorted, trying to jerk your hand away from his grip. He didn’t yield. “If you stop being so damn stubborn.”

“I’ve dealt with much worse, my dear,” He continued to convince you to leave him alone, his voice smooth with that manipulatively suave voice he put on sometimes. Unluckily for him, though, you were just as stubborn as him.

“But I’m here this time to help you,” You finally managed to free your wrist from him, your sharp expression unwavering from his own, which seemed equally aggravated. Maybe he was too weak to actually stop you, or maybe he actually did want your help and just wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t stop you from lifting his bloodied hand from his wound.

You pursed your lips at the grizzly sight, but said nothing. You ignored the stinging smell of blood that flooded your nose. You hovered your hands over the wound, channeling the energy in your body that granted you the ability to rapidly heal others. A faint light flowed from your palm and into the gash across Alastor’s torso, forming glowing stitches that weaved throughout the damaged skin.

Periodically glancing up at his face as you worked, you watched for any sign that told you to stop, but it never came. He stayed silent the whole time, which was… rare, from him. You would never admit this out loud, but Alastor seemed almost… pitiful, in this silent, weakened state. The Radio Demon himself, reduced to a bloodied, passive husk of himself.

After healing so many demons during the battle outside, you had spent so much energy. You were already so weak and exhausted, but you pushed yourself to force just a bit more—

“There,” With a weak sigh, you sat back, admiring your own handiwork. Even though it was magic, it did take some mental ability to know how to use your power. “Was that so hard?” You chided him jokingly.

He gingerly drug a clawed finger down the stitches, analyzing it for himself. 

“I have to admit,” He began, looking up at you. “It would have been nice to have you in my early years as— dear?”

You barely heard what he was saying as all of your senses seemed to get foggy all at once. Your vision blurred and speckled, you ears felt muffled, and you swayed with lightheadedness. You pressed a hand to your face, trying to steady your breath.

“I’m good,” Your voice came out in a quiver. “I think I just—”

You don’t necessarily even remember fainting, but reason that you must have as you stared at the ceiling above you. You woke up ten minutes ago, and spent the time piecing together everything that happened. How much time has passed since then? A couple hours? Days? It was hard to say. Though, you thought as you looked around. The hotel looks… damn good all things considered. 

The door creaked open and your ears perked at the sound of a familiar voice humming some tune that you couldn’t recognize. Considering the atmosphere wasn’t tense, you actually welcomed the prickling, static-like sensation that Alastor’s presence brought. 

“Ah, the sleeping beauty awakes!” He announced pleasantly, setting a plate rattling with two neat little glasses of warm liquid on the bedside table. You eyed them and quirked your eyebrow.

“Seems you were ready for it,” You said, commenting on the fact that he brought two cups.

“Well, what kind of man would I be if I wasn’t au fait to my darling’s status?” He explained, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning over you. He would never admit that he brought up two cups every time he checked on you just in case. 

His overall demeanor seemed appropriately confident and indifferent, but his eyes held an uncharacteristic look of tenderness and worry as he looked over you, analyzing your condition. He sat at the edge of the bed, picking that plate up again and offering you a cup.

You sat up against the headboard and took it with a light smile, warming your hands on the smooth surface. You enjoyed the aroma of the tea, and you realized it was your favorite. How sweet.

The room was silent, save for the quiet sound of a radio that seemed to just… radiate from him… but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Now that you were sitting up, you took the chance to look down and over yourself. Bandages were wrapped tightly over your arms, chest, stomach, legs… basically everywhere. You were suddenly all too aware of the dull ache that afflicted your entire body.

When you looked up, you noticed Alastor had been looking at you rather intensely. His expression was weird and unreadable. You tightened your lips awkwardly at the strangely passionate look in his eyes, looking into random directions to try to ignore it. You tried to concentrate on taking another sip from the cup in your hand, bu, to your dismay, it was already empty. You sat it down on the plate.

“How’s my stitchwork holding up?” In an attempt to dissipate your own awkwardness, you reached towards his abdomen. He caught your hand gently, directing it away from himself. But he didn’t let go.

“No doctor in all of Hell could have done better,” He complimented. He still had a hint of that weird expression. “If only you could fix yourself up the same. Fortunately I have some experience from my time alive…” He trailed off.

You couldn’t contain yourself anymore, jumping forward and tightening your arms around his neck. The static in the air sharpened for a brief second, matching the tenseness in his body, but slowly returned to a normal frequency. After a few more seconds, you felt him slide his own arms around your waist, pressing you against himself.

“You scared the fuckin’ shit out of me,” You said, voice muffled by his coat. “I thought Adam killed you. I thought I was going to find your body buried under the rubble.”

“So you avenged me by killing Adam yourself? I appreciate it,” He remarked lightly, a slight chuckle rumbling from his chest. His voice was low, breath tickling your ear as he held you with a feather-light but somehow still firm grip. 

Alastor was quiet for another moment, and you realized the static in the air had completely dissipated. You also realized the pressure of his arms wrapped around you was getting increasingly tighter.

“You worried me as well,” He said finally. “You were out like a hibernating bear for days. You worried everyone.” You pulled your head out from the crook of his neck and met his gaze.

“Can’t a gal get her beauty rest?” You joked softly, bumping your shoulder against him playfully. He swayed for a moment at the contact, but the eye contact never broke. Wait, was he getting closer? 

Instinctually your eyes closed, and the briefest kiss was placed on your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. Before you could open your eyes, Alastor placed his hand on your head and pressed you back against his chest. He then began rubbing his hand gently on your back in a soothing motion.

Despite being in bed for apparently days, you still felt tired. You sank into him as his claws drug gentle shapes against your skin, careful to avoid bandaged spots. He hummed a quiet tune, and you noticed his microphone of a cane, which was laying against the bedside table, emitted an accompanying song.

“Maybe redemption isn’t all that,” You commented with a sigh, lazily picking at the hem of Alastor’s collar.

“Hmm?” He prompted you to continue.

“Is Hell really so bad if you’re with your favorite soul?” It felt corny to say, but you couldn't really find a better way to phrase it. Plus, you couldn't take this rare moment of tenderness for granted.

His hand paused for a moment, and he gently squeezed your arm in response. You felt him press another light kiss to the top of your head.

“I know, now,” He finally replied. “Just the feeling.”

[hairmetal666]

Eddie Munson gets famous at fifteen, after a YouTube video goes viral.

He's the kind of famous where he can't leave his house without being mobbed; where his name is plastered across grocery store tabloids and every fifth Pop Crave post; who has to make special arrangements with stores, whose body guards have body guards, who's forgotten what it's like to be normal. He's the kind of famous with well-chronicled stints in and out of rehab

And he thinks, at thirty, why not do a reality show? Why not let everyone in the world into his life because they're there anyway?

There's this guy on the crew, beautiful as a fucking sunrise. He's all golden-tanned and chestnut-haired, with these big hazel eyes that makes Eddie stomach swoop deliciously whenever they happen to meet his.

His name is Steve.

And Eddie, well. He's learned his lesson about jumping into relationships. So, Steve is nice to look at, and that's all there is to it.

---

They're at the studio, and Eddie, he only smokes when he's recording but he's "not allowed" to do that inside. So, he steps out into the alley behind the building, eyes falling shut as he hands search his pockets for his pack of Camels and his Zippo.

"I didn't realize you smoked," a deep voice says from the darkness.

Eddie startles, eyes flying open. Steve is leaning against the brick of the building, cigarette perched between his pursed lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Steve. With the crew."

"Eddie," he answers by instinct.

"I know," Steve chuckles. His hazel eyes are golden in the yellow streetlight.

"Oh, right." He lights his cigarette and inhales deep.

"I really like what you're doing in there." Steve nods his head towards the studio.

"You a fan?"

"Never listened to you much before. Not really a metal kinda guy, but I like it."

People aren't usually honest with Eddie. It's refreshing.

"Glad you're getting into it! How's your--uh, job going?"

Steve laughs. "First assistant camera, that's my job." Eddie's expression must read a total blank, but Steve only smiles. "I make sure everything's in focus while we film"

"Is that--hard?"

"Sometimes," Steve agrees. "How do you like being the star of a reality show?"

Eddie huffs out a breath. "It's more fun than I expected. Like, sure it's weird to have you guys follow me around, but at least I invited you, you know?"

Steve's dark eyes are fathomless in his perfect face. "You'll let me know? If anything happens that you don't like?"

Eddie nods, taken aback by the serious line of Steve's pretty mouth. Before he can respond more, the back door creaks open, Gareth's backlit shape leaning into the alley. "Eddie? They're ready for you."

"Duty calls." He smiles at Steve as he stomps out his cigarette. "See you around."

---

Eddie goes to a house party in the hills. It's just a handful of people, all of them he's known for years, no cameras in sight.

Someone asks how things are going with the band. Eddie doesn't think anything of it. Why should he, among friends? Why should he when they already know the resentment that Gareth, Jeff, and Freak have for him? Eddie got signed and not his band. The guys--they never really forgave him, think he could have tried harder.

So, he says--he says--"I wish they didn't resent me so goddamn much still. To this day! They're millionaires and they're pissed at me? Fuck that. I got them here. I got us all here."

They're filming the next day at Eddie's house. He's working on a new song, engrossed in his acoustic and his notebook.

He's so in the zone, it takes him a second to register when Gareth bursts into the house.

"Fuck you, Munson," Gareth screams. "What the fuck is this shit?" Eddie's own voice pours from Gareth's phone, and Eddie's stunned speechless for dozens of seconds as he tries to comprehend what's happening.

"I didn't--" he tires. He raises his hands placatingly, but his minds a whirlwind, thoughts a tangle, heart a mess of betrayal and hurt and fear.

"We should be fucking grateful?" Gareth yells. "You spoiled piece of shit, fuck you!" He lunges towards Eddie, but Steve darts from behind the camera, moving to block Gareth's path.

"Stop filming," Eddie shouts. He lifts his arms to block the shit. "Get out," he snaps at the crew. " Now!"

He and Gareth scuffle towards a set of double-doors, heated words low and unintelligible.

"Don't come in." He tells the crew. "Steve, I mean it. Tell them to stop."

Eddie shoves Gareth into the other room, slamming the door behind him. Still, the mics pick up the screaming fight between the two men.

Hours later, Eddie finally makes his way back to the main part of the house, finds Steve standing at the kitchen island.

"Why are you still here?" He's too exhausted from the fight to put any inflection into it.

"I was wo--I wanted to make sure everything was okay," Steve says. He relaxes against the island. "Are yo--is everything okay?"

Eddie's laugh is humorless. "Something like that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The tears he kept at bay with Gareth prick at his eyelids until they burn. "Not really, no."

Steve nods. "We could--you wanna watch a movie?"

This startles a laugh out of Eddie, one that has tears flooding his eyes and he has to blink fast, look down, anything so Steve doesn't notice.

"You know what I want?" he says. It's soft enough that maybe Steve, across the kitchen, wouldn't hear.

"What?"

"To have friends who won't sell me out for a couple thousand bucks." The tears start falling, his throat choked with emotion.

He wants to stop, embarrassed to be crying in front of Steve, but now that he's started, sobs shake his shoulders and he can't keep quiet.

Steve reaches for him. "Is this okay?" he whispers, hands rubbing circles against his back.

Eddie nods, cries for a while as Steve makes soothing motions against his back.

"I just wish I was normal," he mumbles when he has words again.

Steve's hold on him tightens. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

Shame hits him then, too hard to ignore, and he steps away. "I'm gonna--I'm gonna go. I--Thanks again."

He ignores the sound of Steve calling him back.

---

Eddie's playing a show. He's playing a show in a small club, something he hasn't been able to do for years, but he's doing it right now. It's electric, vibrating through his body, the crowd screaming along with every word.

So much of this is because of Steve, and Eddie can't think about it, because men like Steve aren't for guys like Eddie.

As he plays, his eyes scan the small crowd, find Steve easily. He's gazing at Eddie, lips slicked pink and parted, eyes shining. Eddie knows this look; the naked desire obvious. A heat he never lets himself feel for Steve blooms low in his abdomen, but--

He wails into his mic, forcing his thoughts away from that path. He has a show to play, one that's pumping his veins full of satisfied adrenaline. Nothing can ruin it.

When the show ends, Eddie is high, endorphins and adrenaline pounding through his bloodstream.

Eddie, the band, and the film crew make their way out the club's backdoor. There's a car idling close by, but they only get a few steps in before there's shouting; the ear-shattering click of dozens of camera shutters; overwhelming burst of flashes.

Eddie is disoriented, dizzy; the rapid shift from the best night he's had in years, to this, mobbed by paparazzi, people screaming his name, crowding their small group. He stumbles, black spots still obstructing his vision.

Arms catch around him, holding him steady. "You okay?" Steve asks.

Before he can answer, one of the paps yells, "Munson's wasted! Can't even walk!"

"C'mon, Ed, I've got you," Steve says.

"Just get into the booze, Munson, or someone had Molly too? Maybe a little coke? That used to be your thing, right? Snort a little blow and do a show?"

Eddie tenses, almost stops, but Steve keeps him going.

The crowd surges around them, more voices yelling, more flashbulbs popping, the guy saying, "He can't even stand without help! You got a real problem you know?"and he just--can't anymore. He whirls out of Steve's grasp, lunges for the guy.

"What's your fucking problem, man?" Eddie hisses. "What did I do to you, huh?"

"Real tough, Munson, huh?" The man sneers. He shoves Eddie hard, knocking him back a few steps.

Eddie's vision fuzzes out, brain buzzing. He snarls, knows he does, knows he's losing it, can't make it stop.

Strong arms wrap around his waist, pull him off his feet. He fights it until he's pressed into a wall, until cold hands cup his face.

"Baby, baby, you have to calm down," Steve murmurs. "You have to breathe, can you do that for me?"

"I want--he can't--I--"

Steve presses harder against him, bodies joined. "You're having a panic attack, yeah? Can you breathe with me, baby? Match me?"

Eddie nods, tries, wants to be good for Steve.

He calms, as much from the breathing exercise as being held by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Pressing his face against Steve's neck he says, "why are you always around for my worst moments? I'm such a fucking mess."

"I don't think you're a mess," he says. "I think you've gotten hurt, you've gotten cornered. And your reactions are normal."

"Why do you even care?" Eddie asks.

Steve doesn't even pause. "Cause I like you, Eddie." His hold tightens for a second. "I like you a lot."

Eddie scoffs. "Yeah, you like Eddie Munson, the hot rockstar. Not the loser who cries in your arms"

Cold air hits Eddie as Steve steps away to meet Eddie's eyes. You want to know something? I didn't expect to like you at all. I admit, I bought into all the stories on the internet. But you were never anything like that, Ed. Not even once."

Steve takes a deep breath, turning away as his cheeks grow pink. "And you--you're always going out of your way for people. The day I knew I was gone for you? Three weeks into filming. There was this kid interning. You didn't know a thing about him, just some twenty-year-old, and you sat down and talked to him. Were genuinely interested in everything he said."

"Steve," Eddie's voice breaks. He has to cover his mouth, lips a wobbling mess.

"I want to give you normal, Eddie, as much as I can. If you'll let me."

The moisture tumbles free from his eyes, streaking down his cheeks. Eddie laughs. "God, Steve, you're--I like you, too."

Steve brushes the tears away. "So, you'd go on a date with me?"

"I think I would really like to go on a date with you, yeah."

Steve leans in, slow and gentle, placing a soft kiss at the corner of Eddie's mouth. It lights him up like a fresh struck match, nerve endings on fire. He thinks it's so much more than like already.

"Take me home, sweetheart," he says.

"Getting fresh with me, Munson," Steve smirks. "I won't have you using your rockstar wiles to seduce me."

Eddie's laugh echoes off the brick of the surrounding buildings. "Oh, sweetheart, my rockstar ways will destroy you."

"That a promise?"

---

Six months later, the first and only season of Welcome to Hell premieres. Instead, of chronicling a rockstar's debauched and wild lifestyle, it's a soft and charming love story. It shows Steve and Eddie growing closer, Steve working late into the night, to give Eddie the hint of normalcy he's so desperate for, to make him happy. It shows Eddie's eyes track Steve across a room, something like sadness crossing his face. It shows a concert that Steve arranged, the fight with the pap outside the venue, brief glimpses of Steve and Eddie in the aftermath, the gentle kiss.

In the last interview of the season, the producer asks Eddie if there will be a season two of Welcome to Hell.

Eddie smiles, glances off camera, which pans to find Steve in worn jeans and a Metallica hoodie, hair messy and wearing glasses. He gazes at Eddie, smiles this soft, aching thing.

"Nah, I don't think I need it anymore," Eddie answers. Throwing the camera a smile that matches Steve's.

[yoursweetwife]

Ratio: we are far from the romantic nonsense that other couples do.

[name]: (brings a spoon with dessert to Ratio’s face) would you like to try it?

Ratio: (tries the dessert, after which he wipes the corner of [name]’s mouth and “scolds” they for being careless.)

Aventurine: ...

Aventurine: yes, i believe you.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

loser!Reiner has no idea how to talk to you, and practices conversations in his head just to forget every line when you smile at him across the dining hall at dinner and just stares back wide-eyed

loser!Reiner has wet dreams about you and wakes up with a curse, heading to the showers to stand under ice-cold water and try to forget the way it felt to hold you that close (you don't have sex in the dream, just kiss but that's more than enough for his subconscious)

loser!Reiner begs Annie to swap with him when you get assigned as her sparring partner, but loses his nerve when practice starts and ends up on his ass immediately, staring up at you in a daze

loser!Reiner can't protest when you apologize and offer to walk him to the infirmary, and might even play up his weakness a little so he can lean on your shoulder on the way

loser!Reiner hasn't heard the last five minutes of your conversation because he's so distracted by the way the sunlight hits your hair, and the way your eyes crinkle when you're enthusiastic about something

loser!Reiner blushes fiercely when the medic tells him his heart is way too fast, asks if he's sick with anything, has to close his eyes and pretend you aren't there so he can breathe normally again

loser!Reiner who starts writing his wedding vows in his head when you kiss him on the cheek before heading back to your room, tell him to take care of himself, look back over your shoulder with a little wave

loser!Reiner who endures relentless teasing from Bertolt and Annie because he gets flustered beyond belief by any mention of you, but secretly likes it because it's an excuse to talk about you more

[19silvermirrors]

Stand and deliver in the name of love🥰

[geombyu]

GOJO SEES YOU WEARING HIS SHIRT !

Pairing. student!gojo x student!gn!reader

Genre. fluff, friends to hinted lovers perhaps

Word count. 0.6k | Warnings. swearing, the reader is smaller than gojo (the shirt is big on them)

A/N. i see a lot of these and like 7/10 times theyre smut LMAOAO so i wanted to write a fluff ver! i also did Not think id be writing for jjk but 😭 ig we are + not rlly proofread sorry :(

Today was Gojo's day off, and what better way to start it than waking up at four pm?

He was a busy guy - despite only being in high school - he's already taken on many jobs, it was only right he could get sixteen hours of sleep.

When he arrived at your shared dorm at twelve in the morning, you were already asleep, so when he got out of his room and laid his eyes on you wearing his t-shirt, he couldn't help but gasp.

"Oh, hey Satoru." You spoke, sparing him a quick glance before going back to cooking. His mouth was still wide open; he couldn't respond—he tried, but he couldn't. No sound could leave him. Who knew all it took for the strongest to be left speechless was the sight of you in his shirt?

You look back at him, seeing how his jaw was still on the floor, you realize it was probably because of what you were wearing right now.

"Oh! This? Sorry," you chuckle, "none of my clothes have been washed yet—call me gross, whatever—so I decided to steal from your wardrobe. Hope you don't mind." You stuck your tongue out before placing the eggs on a plate.

You moved to put the plate on the dining table, giving him a better view of you in his shirt. It fit him so perfectly, so seeing it so big on you absolutely made his heart melt.

There was a light tint of pink on your friend's cheeks now; you were so cute he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Are you okay with just eggs? There's more stuff but I wanna save them for next time—oh, actually, you might not be here tomorrow…" You mumbled the last part, choosing to ignore how he still hasn't responded to any of your sentences.

Gojo tried to get a word out, but all he could manage was a strange, strangled noise, which you respond to with a confused hum. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't organize any of his thoughts. He was screaming over and over in his head, but there was a thought slightly bigger than the rest (the rest which consisted of AAAA's, OH MY GOD's, and WHAT THE FUCK's)—that thought was: "holy fuck you're so adorable," which was also exactly what he just blurted out.

Now it was your turn to be flustered, "I—what?"

Gojo's eyes widen before he covers his face with his hands, his face now fully red. "Ignore what I just said," his voice was muffled, but you could still hear what he said.

You never thought you'd see the Gojo Satoru blushing so deeply with his face in his hands, but here he is. You laugh, "can you repeat that?" You were teasing him, I mean, it's not every day that this happens, but any more teasing and his heart might actually blow up.

"Y/n, shut up—oh my God—I hate you!"

"I thought you said I was adorable? Or do you hate cute things?"

He yells into the palms of his hands.

Although you're being bold right now, him calling you adorable caused your brain to shut down for a good millisecond. Gojo complimented you all the time, but somehow, this felt different.

You walk to where he's standing right now, hands still covering his pretty face. You put your hand on his, and the feeling of your warm and soft hands comfort him.

He could tell you wanted to pull his hands away, and while he didn't want that, he was so weak to your touch.

He had no other option but to give in, so he did. You put his left hand away first, then the right. With his hand still in yours, you softly spoke, "if that's the case, then you must really hate yourself."

Oh, he was so in love with you.

© geombyu

[reluctantvnnerd]

All the better to hear you with my dear

“Ais! Ais, you have to help me,” you say, wobbling up to Ais at the Wet Wick. You’ve had just a smidge too much gin, but you’re only tipsy, not drunk. Or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

Ais smirks down at you, and it’s amazing how many smirks the demon has. This one says “you’re kind of like a puppy who pisses on the carpet, but you’re cute and this could be hilarious.” Ais’ face is very eloquent.

“Can’t wait to hear what’s been trying to eat you this time,” he says, laughter in his voice.

“Nothing!” you exclaim indignantly. Then you have to pause, trying to remember if anything or anyone has attempted to eat you today. Probably nothing or Mhin would be around somewhere glaring at you. “Yeah, nothing!”

Ais shakes his head. “Alright Sparrow, get to the point.”

You nod, and intend to take a seat on the stool next to Ais, but the stool wobbles and you decide you don’t want to sit down anyway.

“You have to keep me away from Vere,” you tell him solemnly.

Ais’ smirk grows. “Keep you away from Vere? Not the other way around?”

“No, it has to be me away from him. Because I want to do something, and he’ll kill me if I do.”

“Gotta hear this one,” he tells you with a laugh. Ais pulls a cigarette from inside his… shirt? Is it a shirt? Why does a shirt need so many belts? Between these five assholes there’s probably not a belt left in Eridia. Half the city probably can’t keep their pants on. Wait…

“Sparrow?” You feel Ais’ hands on your arms, and the contact makes you jump. You realize you’re kind of listing to starboard, and he’s holding you up. Aww, nice demon!

“Can you keep a secret?” you ask, trying to be quiet, but also be heard over the cacophony of the Wet Wick.

“Sure I can,” he says, shifting you back upright. Somehow he’s managed to get his cigarette in his mouth and lit while you were thinking about belts. “Maybe I even will.”

You shoo away that last part with a bandaged hand, and then narrow your eyes and lean in a little. Well a lot actually. It isn’t intentional, but your head feels really heavy and it kind of leads the way. Ais catches you again, snickering.

“I want,” you start to say. You think better of it and lower your voice so someone can’t hear you. “Ais, I want to touch his ears.”

This time instead of smirking, Ais gives you a grin of unholy glee, fangs flashing. Why do monsters get cool teeth and fluffy ears and all you have are shitty mummy hands?

“Yeah?” he asks, chuckling. “I can understand that.”

“They look so soft!” you exclaim. “So fluffy! Why are they so fluffy? I want to pet them and smoosh them down and nuzzle them with my face so I know what they feel like.”

You look down at your bandaged hands and make a face.

“Stupid hands,” you grumble, your volume diminishing with unhappiness.

“Aw, don’t be sad Sparrow,” Ais says, patting you affectionately on the head like you’re one of his pets. You consider the fact that if you drink from the spring you kind of would be like Ais’ pet. You could hang out with Princess… Alright no, you are way too drunk to be thinking about groupminds.

“So you have to help me. I don’t want him to kill me. Or eat my face.” You pause to consider something. “Actually, I’d probably let him bite my hand off, that would be ok.”

Ais snorts.

“Yeah, I think we’ll just keep you from being Vere-chow,” narrowing his bright red eyes, he looks down at you and purses his lips. “Wanna know a secret?”

Your eyes widen with excitement and you clutch the front of his… outfit. “Yes!”

Ais leans down until his mouth is next to your ear. His breath tickles and you choke back a drunken giggle.

“If you scratch behind his ears he purrs.”

Your eyes go wide, and you stare at him when he stands back up to his full height. “Ais! Why did you tell me that! That doesn’t help!”

Ais laughs loudly. “Never said I was gonna, did I?”

“Asshole!” you gasp angrily.

Still laughing, he pulls your hands away from his clothes, careful of your bandages. You’re still scowling when Leander wanders over to look at the two of you inquiringly.

“Ais is being a dick,” you complain, feeling vaguely betrayed, but also unsurprised, and kind of amused.

“Isn’t he always?” Leander asks with a laugh. Well, you suppose he has a point.

Ais just shrugs, not bothering to deny it. Instead he pushes you gently toward Leander, who suddenly realizes how unstable you are and catches you with a surprised noise.

“Whoa there,” Leander says, putting his hands on your shoulders when you sort of face plant between his boobs. “Why don’t we get you some water?”

“Ok, but don’t make it chewy,” you mutter against his chest. “I don’t like chewy drinks.”

“You ever had one?” Ais asks, laugher in his voice.

“Can’t remember,” you say, with another dismissive wave of your hand. Then you lift your head from Leander’s pillowy bosom to scowl at Ais and shake your finger menacingly at him. “Remember, no ears!”

“Definitely time for that water,” Leander says, sounding both confused and a little concerned. “Then maybe you should call it a night.”

“Too late,” Ais says, taking a drag on his forgotten cigarette. He slaps Leander on the back harder than he needs to, but not too hard since you’ve managed to pass out while leaning against the leader of the Bloodhounds. “I’ll leave you to it. Gotta talk to Vere.”

Leander looks at Ais dubiously, but rather than arguing, he picks you up and starts making his way through the crowd toward the stairs.

“So fluffy,” you murmur against his chest.

Leander really isn’t sure what to make of that, so he ignores it in favor of climbing the stairs. He can always ask you in the morning… assuming you remember.

+++++

The next day you wake with a headache so terrible that the curse of madness pales in comparison. Your mouth tastes the way you imagine soulless shit might taste, and you smell just as bad. It’s got to be nearly 3 pm, and you’re starting to think living in a tavern might have been your greatest mistake so far, and you’ve made a lot of mistakes.

Once you’re bathed and dressed you head downstairs to be accosted by a painfully cheerful Leander. Despite your angry hissing at his cheer, he takes advantage of your headache to convince you to test some vile concoction he's created. He swears it cures hangovers, but honestly you just want it to cure his cheerfulness.

At first you’re certain that it cures hangovers by killing the drinker by flavor alone. But to your surprise the headache and nausea begin to recede after only a few minutes. You still don’t forgive him for being cheerful in your general direction though.

It takes work to convince yourself to go outside, but after the nausea subsides, hunger rears its head and demands you go find food. Since your single taste of nut leather was enough to convince you never to repeat the experience, you decide to go looking for something that might at least resemble food.

You make your way cautiously through the maze-like streets of the Amaryllis district toward Lowtown and the vendor with the long lads. You've just caught sight of him and are raising your hand to wave when someone grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you bodily into a dark alley, half choking you in the process. Your assailant pushes you back against the wall with a force that rattles your teeth. Your surprised scream turns into a startled squeak when you realize your assailant is Vere.

“Vere, wha-”

“Shut up.”

You shut up, swallowing down your returning nausea. This is becoming a very unnerving habit of Vere's. He's got his hands wrapped around your biceps and his body is very, very close. Close enough it's getting hard to think. He's giving you a half lidded look that you can't read but also can't look away from. His pupils are normal at least, which probably increases your chance of survival.

When you see his face coming toward you, you have no idea what's going on. You brace yourself for violence, or perhaps another deeply useless piece of “free” information. Possibly even a kiss, though that might be wishful thinking.

You close your eyes lest you show any of your weird emotional turmoil in them. Instead of any of those options you feel the brush of something warm, silky soft and… furry? against your cheek. You can’t quite figure out what you’re experiencing so you dare to open your eyes. You find yourself presented with a fall of deep red hair as Vere rubs one of his tufted ears against your cheek.

“Oh gods,” you whimper. The touch is so soft, easily the softest thing you’ve ever felt. The skin of his ear is much warmer than yours, adding an extra note of sensory input to this already overwhelming experience. His silky hair brushes your lips and that’s almost more distracting than the ears.

But Vere isn’t done. He grabs your bandaged hand and guides it to his other ear, and even though you can’t feel the texture of his fur and skin, you can feel the warmth and how delicate and pliable his ear is. You finally get the courage to “smoosh” one of Vere’s ears, cupping it gently and pressing it forward into his hair, enjoying how pliable it is. You think for the barest fraction of a second that you hear purring, but you can't be sure.

When he pulls back a moment later his pupils are very wide and he gives you a poisonously sweet smile.

“If you tell anyone this happened, I will rip your throat out and use your windpipe as a whistle.“

“Not a soul,” you promise, nodding vigorously. “Though truthfully I don’t think anyone would believe me. I’m not sure I believe me.”

Vere lets out a laugh that for once isn’t tinged with menace.

“Goodbye little bird,” he says warmly.

Then his face is right next to yours again, hair brushing your flushed and sweaty cheek. The next thing you know, sharp teeth are digging into your neck and biting down hard. It’s definitely not the bite of a lover, far from it. It’s shockingly painful, though thankfully over quickly. You give a whine of shock and pain as you bleed sluggishly into your cloak.

“Remember what I told you, Sparrow.” Vere warns, licking his lips as he saunters away, tail swaying lazily behind him.

When you can manage to think again you make a mental note to thank Ais and also to kick him in the shin at the earliest opportunity.

[popponn]

a meet cute of sort.

note: something that should have been a 5+1 fic for nagi, but i hit a road block somewhere and ended up with only this. warning: none. gn!reader, post canon, meet cute. nagi here is if "flirting" and "not flirting" have a son. @doobea thanks for checking this as usual bby and rosie @adoregojo look. a nagi.

“You look like the moon.”

It is a spring day and the sun is up. You are someone from some magazine who just finished interviewing him for an article. Also, you are the first person to describe Seishiro like that—at least to his face.

“Huh?” Seishiro blinks. He doesn’t expect that sentence to be said. Usually, people like you will go for the standard ‘thank you for your hard work’ even though all Seishiro did was give them the answers Reo and the staff told him to.

“Uh. Kind of,” you quickly added, suddenly sheepish and apologetic, kind of jumpy. “Sorry. It just comes out—I mean it as a praise! I mean, you look good—yeah, that’s it! As good as the moon, I mean!”

You are panicking and refuse to meet Seishiro’s eyes. It’s kind of funny—cute? something in his mind unhelpfully supplies—in a way. Suddenly, the confident interviewer who enthusiastically digs through his answers and makes him think is gone, even if your jumpy-something energy seemingly remains.

“…I see. Thanks,” he says, eventually, after spending a few moments watching you fumble through your belongings. He wants to point out that you say ‘I mean’ a lot just now��it will probably make you act even funnier, but some people might cry if they get teased, so he didn’t. You might be one and he will get scolded if he makes you cry.

You nod at his answer, still nervously trying to gather your stuff back. This shouldn’t be surprising in any manner, considering your business is finished here—but, for some reason, it does bugs him a bit.

Probably, because you are kind of funny in some ways—he notes. Also probably because you chat with him during the interview and never feel annoying to him. There are other things that feels like they are barely under the surface of his mind—a bit messier and couldn’t be put to words yet. However, they feel nice enough that Seishiro knows that even the worst parts of them fall under ‘interesting’.

It makes Seishiro feel like he should do something before you go. What he doesn’t quite know, but he should probably do it.

“Hey,” Seishiro calls out, not knowing what to say or do yet despite already gaining your attention.

Then, he remembers what Shidou always does whenever someone piques the blonde’s interest.

So, he does it.

Casually, curiously, lightly, Seishiro asks, “Can I have your number?

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

head empty, only arthur making you tea after a long day and knowing how you like it perfectly, with or without sugar, maybe a drop of milk, what kind of tea

you don't even have to ask for it, he just knows when you need it

*Big sigh* 😔He clearly would... And if you like honey in it? This man would fight bears just to find some in the wild for you...

You were sitting on the cot of your shared tent. You didn't know exactly why but you were feeling kind of blue tonight. Maybe it was because you didn't do as well as you would have liked as you wanted in that stagecoach robbery you told everyone you would handle. Or maybe you were just tired...

Your head felt too heavy to carry, and it dragged you to lie on the cot just like an anchor dropped to the Ocean. You were about to drift of to sleep, dark thoughts mixing in your head, like the opaque eddies of a muddy pond, when you heard footsteps heading to you.

"Oh, sweetheart..." Arthur whispered to you, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your legs. His eyes were full of care and worry, he didn't expect you to be already in bed. "Here, I made you a cup o' tea. Jus' how you like it."

You slowly got up on your elbow to grab the cup, your heart warming up just as much as your hands when you took it. Arthur looked at you as you put your lips on it, a small grin of his own on his face, as if waiting for something. You instantly smiled against the cup, recognizing your favorite kind of tea mixed with...

"Did you... Did you put honey in it?" You asked with a still tired voice, but surprise and amazement winning the best of it. "How did you manage to find some?!"

Your eyes were sparkling with happiness and wonder. He thought it was one of the best view he ever had the chance to see.

"Ah, I found a beehive today in the forest. Had to beat the Hell out of a damn bear for it, but I win."

Your mouth dropped.

"You're joking, right?"

Arthur laughed deeply and answered your question with a sniffle, his chest still slightly rising from chuckling. "No am not darlin'." He then nodded his head to the corner of your tent where he had put his riffles, his satchel, and... An enormous bear's pelt.

"You're... Unbelievable." Your eyes went back to him, heart pounding at the fact this man had seen a beehive in the wild guarded by a bear, thought that yeah, ma girl likes honey in her tea, and just shot the beast and skinned it.

"Anything for ma sweet girl."

Arthur then put a small kiss on your forehead, seemingly satisfied his gift was appreciated. You were savoring it as if it was pure gold. You would have to thank him properly for it. For starters, a nice massage before sleep could be a good idea...

[gardenofnoah]

Katsuki tries on softness like a child trying on their mother’s clothes. Waddling in too big shoes and tripping over the hem of a shirt that wears more as a dress, he feels clumsy. He gets bashful when he catches you observing with mirth from the corner of your eye—he thinks it ought to be a private affair, this trying on of things—the way he waits for this vulnerability to settle onto his skin, and how it is only as patient with him as he is with it. It slips off his shoulders and falls off his waist and how frustrating it is to be done growing and yet, growing still.

And you, with your tenderness that slips over the shape of you like silk—he feels a bitter, burning envy that’s neither helpful nor justified but god, does it tear him up. He feels guilty about it, because to be the target of your heart’s gentle reach is no small achievement for him. But he doesn’t understand what he’s done to earn that. He doesn’t understand why you’d give something so precious away with no thought to the way it may wound you. You tell him he never needed to earn it, and he just wants to shake you.

But there is a whole list of things that Katsuki does not understand and he’s never been bested by the length of it before now. So he adapts to the challenge—and you are a challenge, though not in any way he’s familiar or comfortable with. You touch him gently and with none of the hesitation of someone whose fingertips have been nicked by his sharp edges. You press your ear to his heavy heart and you tell him it’s a beautiful sound. He doesn’t know what to do with that—but he knows, somehow, that if he’s not earned it then this is a gift, even if he doesn’t trust that it is one he will be able to keep.

He tries anyway—to keep you. He holds you to him—tight enough that you will not slip away, but gently enough that you know you could if you chose to. He steeps your tea for exactly the amount of time it takes to hear the little contented sigh that it’ll pull from you when it warms you how you imagined it would. In the evenings, you curl up over the length of his chest like a cat, and the weight of the plastic handle of your hairbrush in his hand feels heavier than it should. He pulls the rounded bristles over the crown of your head if only to feel you settle into him—he finds that his body yields, if only minutely, to make space for yours—and to hear you tell him that you love him. It’s not the first or the third or the last time you’ll say it but it feels raw like this, in this way, and he wonders if this is what your heart feels like all of the time. Swollen in your chest, foolishly exposed and soft, despite the ways that the continuous muscle contractions and the state of the world should have toughened it.

He’s not like you—he can’t just speak every observation of endearment he has. He can’t get his love to move freely outside of himself, to follow him like a shadow. Instead he finds it in his hands—in between the dip of each knuckle and embedded into the lines in his palms. He’s calloused with it—hardened by it in a way you are not, and he could never understand the way you’re prone to seeking out that roughness like it doesn’t scrape your skin.

“I love you.” Murmured to the sluggish, sorrowful beat of his heart, it chokes him up in a way nothing has ever. His thumb ghosts over the smooth dip of your temple and he notes the slip of your hair through his fingers, and he hopes you can feel the way it’s just pulsing under his fingertips for you.