#white love interest even when it did work out in the end and the problem was rather more of a miscommunication of sorts

[theultracharmingladynoire]

Do you even read something that is SUCH a load of bs that it. I don't even know how to describe it ugh

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.

[itsthatmff]

Hello everything is fine? If requests are still open, can I request opm Garou, Saitama and Sonic with a partner capable of healing any serious injury and renewing their vital energy?

So interesting. It was my first time writing for sonic so don’t go too harsh on me 😞. And yes everything is fine! Just school stressing me out lmao. But I hope you enjoy!

Having an S/O who can heal wounds

Gn!reader

Included: Garou, Saitama, Sonic

Requests are open !!

Garou

It was in that shack where you and your friends often came to hang out because it was an unused and empty place in the middle of the forest that you found that white haired man resting after a long and tough fight.

It couldn’t even be considered resting the way he looked. Blood dripping down his body like water. Of course you immediately tended to him without thinking twice.

You were a B-class hero. Downplayed to the support role, a mere healer. People - especially the association did not see the potential in you. It always bothered you but in this situation you were lucky. God knows what Garou would have done if he had seen your name in the Heroes lexicon instead of just skipping the Pages with the B-class ranked heroes.

One instance lead to the other and it became the norm healing him up whenever he got injured. You developed a weak spot for him. The way he sat on the dust filled couch with his legs spread and his head leaned back. Always making snarky remarks. And always being shirtless.

“It’s great I have ya. Got my own private hopsital.”

“You good? Stop starin at my abs and heal them damnit..”

And of course he has a soft spot for you. May not show it but he cares for you in his own way.

It was when he began coming over for the most useless reasons that you realized he had a crush on you.

Like for instance before or in the middle of fights he’d come looking for you asking you to renew his energy. But after a while he came over every second day with the excuse that “What if I get into a fight?? I need all my power ya know.”

Once you start dating he eventually finds out about you being a hero. Doesn’t really care about it. He is just as upset with you that no one acknowledges your true powers and asks you if you want to join him on his hero hunting but you refuse.

That does not affect your relationship though.

Will lay on you as he lets you heal him. Is real snuggly. Will also groan extra loud to get you all flustered though.

Saitama

(Does this guy even get inured???)

After some research I’ve come to the conclusion that this guy has never gotten severely injured. He does feel pain but it barely hurts.

He does get some tiny scratches from time to time though.

Those if course you heal as his partner. He insists that he doesn’t need it but secretly loves the care you provide him.

When out on Monster battles you two are the best duo to see. While he takes care of the Monsters you take care of any citizens in the area.

He admires you so much and thinks you’re like the backbone of the heroes association because in the end you’re the one who contributes to the citizens and the heroes health.

If anyone dares to say otherwise they’ll have a problem with him.

Let’s you play support in video games because you’re “made for it”

What he does love getting from you are massages though. Your massages are magical because due to your healing and energy renewing powers they make one feel refreshed.

He’ll ask for one whenever he gets the chance.

“A massage’s always good. I can seriously start to feel the back and shoulder pain at my mid-20’s.”

Sonic

At first he’s very reluctant over getting treated by you.

The chairman he works for offered him a personal assistant/nurse. Which was you of course.

This guy knows no shame. Literally strips himself naked in front of you so you could inspect “all his wounds clearly.” It takes you some bickering around for him to put his clothes back on.

Also this guy CANNOT SIT STILL FOR A SINGLE MINUTE. always has to hop on from one place to another with his super speed. It’s just more ‘comfortable’. You literally have to cuff him down sometimes for him to sit still.

And will not stop talking during the treatments. Talking about being the fastest, avenging saitama and whatsoever.

It’s like a therapy and treatment session all at once.

Once you both start dating he gets so comfortable. Will enter the room and lay on you without saying a word expecting you to treat him.

Will justify the injuries he’s gotten like it’s his job.

“Ah that one..you see there was this frick of a cyborg who did not know when to quit. He chopped my hair off too..can you believe it?!”

“See but i’m still stronger than him though. Next time I’ll bring you his head as a souvenir.”

[arget-star]

I've Got All These Sparrin' Scars

Sakura Haruka x F!Reader

Summary: A companion piece to this, wherein Sakura celebrates White Day with you.

tags: fluff, canon-typical violence (there's a brief fight scene), not beta read. a creep hits on reader so terms like "pretty girl" and "baby" are used

a/n: once again i bring you a fic that is far longer than i ever meant for it to be. perhaps the ending is a bit rushed but that's okay we cringe on :)

wc: 4k (.........don't look at me.)

Thanks to Nirei’s tireless efforts, the former members of Furin Class 1-1 gather once a month for a casual dinner at Pothos. While not everyone is available, a sizable crowd still descends upon the café with all the enthusiasm (and appetite) they had in their high school days.

It’s a lovely tradition; one Sakura looks forward to, even if he won’t outright say as much. He’ll grumble and pout when he receives the text announcing their next dinner. Yet he always leaves early, hands shoved into his pants pockets and something close to excitement tucked in the corners of his mouth.

You kiss him farewell at the door. Tug at the lapels of his jacket so it lays just so while he watches you, expression soft. “Have fun,” you tell him, releasing your hold. He blows air out of his nose on instinct.

“Saw half these guys today already.”

“Now you’re going to see the other half. Bring me pack some pudding, please?”

He appreciates the way you at least acknowledge his complaints, unlike his friends whose tendency to completely ignore them has never gone away. You make him feel heard. (They do, too, but differently. Theirs is a language of unspoken understanding and fistfights.)

“S’long as I get the cherry,” he says, walking down the front steps. “…be home soon.”

You laugh softly, lifting your hand in a wave. His goodbyes are always so stilted. Unsure. Like that scared little boy who still lives inside his head expects you to be gone by the time he returns. You hope, one day, he’ll be able to reassure that little boy. “Tell everyone I said hi!”

Sakura—about to turn the corner—looks back at you. “Any other demands?” There’s no bite in the words, only fond resignation.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

You’d bet money his flush lasts all the way to Pothos.

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

With Sakura gone, and no pressing responsibilities demanding your attention, you spend the evening relaxing. You’re diligently not thinking about floral arrangements or what injuries Sakura will incur while on patrol. Work is most certainly a tomorrow problem, and your boyfriend is simply out enjoying a nice dinner with his friends.

Well. There’s still a thirty percent chance he will, inevitably, be sporting a bruise or two by the end of the night.

Time passes slowly but pleasantly. You make dinner—a simple rice cooker stir fry and accompanying teriyaki sauce. You throw plenty of vegetables into the dish despite someone’s disdainful scoff echoing in your ears. It’s a personal goal of yours to get him to eat one singular piece of, say, broccoli without him silently removing it from his meal.

Once dinner’s finished, you set up your laptop on the low table so you can rewatch an episode or two of your favorite show while curled on the couch. Neither you nor Sakura have expressed any interest in purchasing a television. Your computer works perfectly fine whenever you two settle in for movie night.

(“If we did get a tv,” Sakura explained one evening, fingers loosely entwined with yours, “then everyone would insist on havin’ video game night here.”

You squeezed his hand. Sakura’s video game skills had improved, but not by much. He’d never stand for being humiliated in his own home. “I don’t really watch a lot of shows, anyway.”)

Through with both dinner and your show, you languidly rise from the couch, arms reaching above your head. You don’t expect Sakura for another couple hours, barring any mishaps. So you turn on some music, something mellow and soft, humming along with the melody as you clean the kitchen.

Minimal chores now done, you begin your bedtime routine. You shower. Wash your face and brush your teeth, basking in the simple pleasure of enjoying a cozy night alone.

Sakura returns while you’re in the middle of blow drying your hair. You don’t hear him come in over the noise; just see his shadow playing against the walls, a flash of white hair out of the corner of your eye. He treads softly, deliberately, like he never wants to take up more space than necessary. You thumb the blow dryer’s switch, flicking it off, then set it on the counter.

“Welcome home,” you call, padding into the small kitchen. Plastic rustles. Sakura’s in front of the fridge, placing something inside. His shoulders stiffen, then relax.

“…ate the cherry on the way home,” he returns, pivoting around. (Bruise free, your brain helpfully supplies.) The fridge door thumps closed behind him.

You laugh quietly, the sound tapering off once you catch the slight pout of his lips, how his expression seems a little distant. He distracted; otherwise, he’d comment on the fact you’re wearing his shirt. Quiet momentarily seeps in. You give yourself a mental shake and brush past him, heading for the cutlery drawer.

Utensils rattle. “How was everyone?” You ask lightly, grabbing two spoons.

“Fine.”

He scratches at his nape. You maneuver around him, reopening the fridge to claim your pudding. They asked too many personal questions, you think, undoing Kotoha’s careful wrapping of the to-go bag. “Mm. Is Kiryu-kun still begging you to come in for a haircut?”

“Don’t trust him near my head with scissors,” Sakura replies, hand dropping from his neck. He absently swipes one of the spoons. “Bunch of annoyin’ jerks.”

You nod. Pick up your own spoon and dig happily into the dessert. “Yeah? What did they do this time?”

His white eyebrow twitches. He forcefully cuts into the pudding’s opposite side, cheeks tingeing light pink. “N-nothin’! Just bein’ nosey!” They’re annoying because they care. Hell, he wouldn’t have survived high school without their obnoxious, nosey asses. But did they have to carry all that over into your relationship?

He’ll be grateful for it once he’s done being irritated.

There it is. Licking a smear of whipped cream off your lips, you tilt your head. Something prickles the back of your thoughts, a realization you haven’t quite reached. “So the usual, then.” You scoop up another bite. “Thank you for bringing this, by the way.”

The sudden shift in topic pulls him from whatever thoughts he’s currently turning over and over in his head. Sakura’s attention snaps into focus, like he’s finally seeing you for the first time since he arrived home. His eyes widen, then narrow.

“Is that my shirt?!”

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

Two days later, that almost-epiphany finally strikes. White Day is next week.

Of course Sakura’s friends would bombard him with questions about his plans. Small wonder he was so pensive that night. You don’t mention it—the holiday is holding less and less sway every passing year, anyway.

Sakura gives no indication he’s thinking about the matter further, either.

You’re content with treating White Day as a normal, run of the mill weekday. So when the expected morning does roll around, you make breakfast and get ready for work and ask him about yesterday’s patrol and completely ignore any extra significance about it.

You forget, that sometimes, Sakura can be quite sneaky.

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

A small bouquet of white roses sits atop your work table. It certainly wasn’t there when you left last night. Perhaps Mariko-san received a rush order after you left? Or she was working on a new window display and set it aside for your opinion? You slip your apron over your head, absently reaching behind you to tie the strings as you step closer. The bouquet is small, beautifully arranged, interspersed with sprigs of blue baby’s breath.

Apron tied, you reach a hand out, fingertips brushing against impossibly soft petals.

There’s a ribbon wound around the cylindrical glass vase, its shade of blue almost matching the baby’s breath. Your favorite shade of blue, you realize belatedly, mere curiosity now bleeding into confusion. A tiny flutter of hope stirs in your chest. No card nestles among the flowers, no tag hangs from the expertly tied bow, and yet, you wonder.

Footsteps sound behind you. They slow, coming to a stop once Mariko-san stands beside you. “Good morning!” The old woman beams, as chipper as ever. You don’t have time to murmur a reply before she speaks again. Honestly, you can only admire her seemingly endless reserves of energy. “I see you discovered your gift. That Sakura of yours is quite a sweet boy, isn’t he?”

You hum in agreement, your small kernel of hope now transformed into delight. A smile grows along your lips. Fingertips again gently caress the rose petals, then skim lightly along the baby’s breath delicate blossoms. They shiver underneath your touch.

Gifts were not high on your list of expectations for today. You knew better than to hold Sakura to so-called normal expectations. That’s no fault of is, nor do you mean to sound cruel. He had no opportunity to learn those expectations beyond watching every day interactions from the sidelines, and you wonder how much of that observation was meant as a survival skill instead of mirroring peer behavior.

“—knew your favorite color without hesitation, too. Wasn’t easy keeping this a secret from you.”

Mariko’s voice filters back into your thoughts. You lower your hand from the petals. “When did he come in?”

The old woman pauses. Purses her lips in thought. “Last Thursday. Poor boy was here after dawn. Looked like he hadn’t slept all night!”

No, he hasn’t been sleeping much these past couple weeks. Just as Valentine’s Day inspires increased foot traffic around Keisei Street, so does White Day. Sakura, thankfully, hasn’t come home with anything worse than skinned knuckles; the exhaustion is getting to him now, and he’s often just waking up by the time you return to the apartment for dinner.

You remember last Thursday, specifically because he wasn’t asleep beside you when you awoke. Occasionally, he does stay out until the blush of dawn turns golden with sunlight, cleaning up ruined property from particularly nasty fights or enjoying a free cup of coffee from a grateful patron. So while your levels of worry didn’t rise from their usual baseline, it did strike you as unusual.

He’d come home some twenty minutes later, yawning, suit jacket slung over one arm, tie loosened, acting perfectly normal. Just like that, your concern had faded.

Now, warmth continues to spread underneath your skin. “Sneaky,” you say, then lean over the roses, inhaling their soft, sweet scent. Baby’s breath tickles your cheeks.

You imagine Sakura, standing in the middle of the shop, wildly out of his depth, hands shoved in his pockets while frowning at the variety of flowers on display. You laugh quietly into the roses. Your Sakura indeed.

After another inhale, you lift your head, facing Mariko. “Thank you, Mariko-san.”

Her face wrinkles as she laughs. “For you, my dear, anything.” She pats your shoulder once before shuffling off to the front of the store.

You reach into your apron pocket and remove your phone. The first picture is just for you; a memory caught in pixelated amber. For the subsequent photos, you adjust the angle, scoot the vase a little closer, mess with the lighting. The camera shutter flickers in rapid succession.

A bell chimes faintly, followed by Mariko-san’s voice. A customer, presumably, rumbles a reply. You analyze the handful of pictures now in your camera roll, deciding on one where a shaft of sunlight makes the petals glow.

You send that one to Sakura, simply captioned, ‘they’re beautiful. thank you <3’

Phone set aside, you consider the bouquet one final time as more voices echo just beyond the curtain separating you from view. One rose near the center calls out to you; wiggling it free, you twirl it between two fingers, then deftly snap the stem down to about two inches or so. You tuck the flower behind your ear.

You’re slipping your phone back into the apron pocket when it buzzes. Already grinning, you tilt the device up. Welcome.

Perhaps today is a little magical, after all.

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

”Why’s there a flower in your hair?” Sakura asks, busying himself with taking the bouquet off your hands while you remove your shoes in the genkan.

You hadn’t expected to find him still at home this evening; another pleasant surprise on top of the flowers. “Good evening to you, too,” you tease, placing your shoes neatly next to his sneakers. “It was festive for the day. And I felt pretty, especially knowing it was a flower you got me.”

He nearly trips on his way to the kitchen, shoulders rising up to his ears. “Yer always pretty!”

Warmth spreads across your face, down into your chest. Compliments are not rare, but they are precious, jewels in a treasure chest. Sakura gives them when he means them, not as empty, pithy phrases out of mere obligation. “Thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen, lightly touching two fingers to the rose behind your ear. The outermost petals wilted throughout the day, curling inwards as brown creeps along their edges. “Wait. Don’t you have patrol tonight?”

He’s so, so gentle when he places the bouquet atop the counter. “Asked Nakamura if I could join patrol later.” His back is still facing you. “Thought we could go out to dinner.”

Oh. Your heart stutters, that warm feeling returning tenfold. He’s deceptively good at planning dates. Always thinks two steps ahead, agonizing over the details, only to shyly ask without quite looking over his shoulder. You’ve not yet figured out where the threads of his awkwardness about romance and fear of mockery intersect. All you can do, for now, is fray their edges day by loving day.

“Give me ten minutes to change, okay?” You dart beside him and plant a quick kiss against his cheek.

Before you can pull away, he wraps a hand around your wrist, fingers loose enough that you could break free if you wanted. His touch is warm.

“Keep the flower in your hair. Please.”

Your heart is about to burst out of your chest. “I will.”

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

“Come on, pretty girl! Have a drink with us!” The tallest one in the assembled group of men—clearly their leader—cajoles. His leer is all teeth. A chip mars his top left incisor in a way that could be charming were he not a total creep. Snickers echo from his cronies.

You glance between them and Chipped Tooth, hands instinctively rising to about chest level, prepared to push him away or wriggle out of his hold should he try anything. He looks mere seconds away from reaching for you. “Not interested,” you snap back, tamping down the nerves churning in your stomach.

Chipped Tooth scoffs. “Aw, don’t be like that, baby! We’re upstandin’ gentleman. We can’t let a cute thing like you spend a holiday alone.”

Sweat turns your palms clammy. You risk a glance behind you, finding nothing but the closed door of the restaurant.

It’s a cute, hole in the wall ramen shop, the kind you’d walk right past if not for the enticing smells of miso broth and pork. On your walk over, Sakura had explained he only discovered the place because he’d saved the owner’s son from becoming caught in some low-level gang’s rampage. The gang had already destroyed half the street by the time Sakura arrived. The son—brave but lacking skill, according to your boyfriend—bravely tried keeping the shop safe. He earned a black eye for his trouble, but it could have been far worse without intervention.

The owner made a point to come over to your table during dinner, profusely thanking Sakura and making not so subtle comments about how adorable of a couple you and Sakura make. Throughout the entire conversation, all you could think was, he is so cherished.

And right as you’d been about to leave, the son had appeared, asking for advice in the event he’s caught in another fight. You told Sakura you wanted some fresh air; not long after stepping onto the sidewalk, the men had descended like wolves circling prey. Maybe they’re the gang Sakura stopped before.

“I’m out with my boyfriend.”

More snickers. Chipped Tooth makes a show of looking around. “Yeah? Some boyfriend. I’m running out of patience, pretty girl. Let—”

Light spills onto the street. Clanging dishes and low chatter can be heard. An arm extends and you shrink back as a shadow blurs past you.

Sakura flies out of nowhere, outstretched leg connecting with the leader’s chest. He stumbles back; there’s a collective intake of breath from his cronies. Sakura lands between you and the gang. “Stay back,” he orders over his shoulder, tugging on the lapels of his jacket.

He doesn’t wait for a response before diving into the fray. You back up until your shoulders hit the rough brick wall of the building’s facade. You’ve seen plenty of fistfights. Dealt with injuries they cause without thinking too hard about it. But there’s something especially captivating about the way he fights. All confidence and grace and speed, not one movement wasted.

Three men move in to attack. You bite back a cry; it isn’t worth distracting Sakura and re-alerting everyone to your presence. He notices, immediately flipping into a handstand, spinning around in a truly impressive display of core and upper body strength. His kicks land, hard. Someone’s nose cracks.

You flinch as the trio falls, stunned and bleeding. Sakura regains his feet. Only four guys remain standing, Chipped Tooth included. “Tsk, I didn’t know she was taken! We coulda solved this like gentleman.”

“Shut the hell up,” Sakura returns. He cracks his neck. “Haven’t I kicked your asses already?”

“Nah. I’d remember a freak like you.”

The insult is weak. Still, you ball your hands into fists, ready to leap in there yourself.

In reply, Sakura runs forward, raised fist aimed for Chipped Tooth, but one of the remaining men steps in, covering for his leader. It’s incredible, how quickly Sakura adjusts in a fight; all that momentum shifts and he jumps, shin connecting directly against the guy’s temple.

He drops like a stone, and Sakura’s already moving on, dispatching the final two idiots before rounding on Chipped Tooth.

But you’ve lost track of the fight. A small, black object had tumbled to the ground in time with your boyfriend’s leap. It bounces along, nearly lost amid the groaning bodies, until it comes to a stop some ten feet away from you.

Tearing your attention away, you find Sakura with a hand curled in Chipped Tooth’s t-shirt, poised for one last strike. Heart pounding, you take a cautious step away from the wall at the same time Sakura speaks.

“Guys like you are pathetic. Bunch’a lame bastards preyin’ on women, then gettin’ pissed when they want nothin’ to do with ya.”

You step over a fallen gang member, then another. You hear rather than see Sakura’s fist make contact with the leader’s nose. He falls, unconscious, as you crouch down, fingers curling around soft velvet. A jewelry box?

“Are you—the hell’re you doin’!?”

Standing, you give an apologetic smile. “I’m fine. You got here before they could do anything.”

He stalks over, all adrenaline and—worry. The genuine concern behind his eyes makes your lips part, prize in your hand momentarily forgotten. “Sakura, I’m okay.”

“Then why’re you kneeling in the middle of these assholes?” Absently, he shakes out his hand, knuckles bloodstained. It’s the only mark on him, and you’re fairly confident that’s not his blood, anyway.

Sakura conducts his own once over, that coiled anxiety loosening when he verifies you’re unharmed. His anger isn’t at you; it’s just, finding you, surrounded by the exact type of men he protects women from night after night…that’s a certain type of fear he hopes he’ll never feel again.

The question goes unanswered. He notices the box. Pats at his pockets, mouth twisting into a grimace even as he flushes scarlet. “That—it ain’t worth you getting hurt for.”

You hold the box out to him. “I didn’t want to risk one of them stealing it.”

He eyes the box. Considers snatching it from your palm and begging you to forget you ever saw it. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and jerks his head to the side. “Don’t open it here.” Sakura pivots on his heel and starts walking.

Nodding, you fall in step beside him, brushing your arm against his. The flush hasn’t faded, and he looks like he just swallowed a lemon. The streetlights highlight the flashing gold of his eye but reveal nothing of his inner thoughts.

It’s not a far walk; just a block down the street, turning a corner until a park bench is revealed. You keep the box clutched to your chest as you sit.

Sakura plops down next to you, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Meant to give it to you before I left for patrol. I know the tradition is usually chocolate or whatever.”

He says it like he doesn’t care if you hate his gift. Like it’s an afterthought. You lower your hand. “May I open it?” It feels important that you ask.

He stares. “Why’re you askin’? Do whatever you want.”

In other circumstances, you’d laugh. He’s putting up that wall you so meticioulslcy wedged yourself through. You don’t want to make him feel like he’s doing something wrong, or all his time and effort has gone unappreciated.

Gently, you pry the lid open, the tiny pop revealing a necklace. The delicate chain ends in a stylized silver branch. Two small leaves grow from it, a cherry blossom sprouting from the branch tip.

*“*Oh, Haruka,” you breathe, running the pad of your thumb along the cool metal. Simple, yet all the more beautiful for it. You look up at him in awe. He’s avoiding eye contact, scarlet to his ears. “This is lovely. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Sakura audibly swallows. “You really like it?” The two hours he’d spent browsing at the mall with his friends weren’t totally worthless, then. Relief punches through his chest. He was so scared he’d mess this stupid holiday up and piss you off to the point you’d want to leave.

What a stupid thing to think.

You scoot closer to him. “I promise. Hey.” Your hand alights on his cheek. He finally meets your eyes. “Today was perfect.”

“Do I have to do this shit again next year?”

This time, you do laugh, bright and happy. “No.” You move your hand and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his heated skin. Sakura freezes. You pull away, concerned he may actually pass out from all the blood rushing to his head.

“Will you put the necklace on for me?”

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

Bonus:

Dinner is well underway when Nirei nudges his best friend. “Sakura-san,” he starts, voice lowered, “what did you get her for White Day?”

Sakura, mouth full of fried onigiri, stares at Nirei, then looks away. His cheeks puff out as he swallows. “…Haven’t gotten anythin’ yet.”

Nirei’s eyes widen. “What? It’s next week! Do you need help shopping?”

“Keep your damn voice down!” Sakura hisses, trying for discretion and failing miserably. He feels more than sees a dozen pairs of eyes slowly find their way to his rapidly heating face. Grains of rice stick uncomfortably in his throat.

Suo gives that infuriating smile of his. “Ah, I see. You have no idea what to purchase”

A fist slams onto the table, rattling the dishware. “S-s-s-shaddup! That ain’t true! And since when were you part of this conversation?!”

“Then what did you have in mind?”

“None of your business!”

Nirei places a placating hand on Sakura’s shoulder and shoots Suo a look that says cut it out, please. Kiryu has lowered his phone, a musical chime faintly emanating from whatever game he’s currently hooked on. The dining room has fallen entirely too quiet for Sakura’s liking. Two more seconds and he’s storming out of here, the fact he’s a grown man notwithstanding.

“Hey, Sakura.” Someone pipes up, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s Anzai. “When have we ever let you down?”

Sakura opens his mouth to retort, but he finds his anger has melted away, replaced by that weird, pleasantly warm feeling in his chest that only appears when he remembers he’s no longer on his own.

(They all agree to meet at the mall on Saturday, where they spend a solid two hours browsing jewelry stores and debating the significance of bracelets over necklaces. In the end, Sakura purchased the first thing he’d seen that reminded him of you.)

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 1 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 3 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

The morning rush had ended a while ago, leaving you with a few stragglers tapping away on laptops, a couple on their second hour of an intense whisper-argument, and some guy in the corner who had been staring at a single muffin for a concerning amount of time. Business had been slow after the morning rush as per usual, this meant you’d had plenty of time to reflect on things that didn’t deserve the mental energy you were giving them. Namely, Choso. It had been a few days since your encounter with the world's most socially inept man and his human golden retriever of a brother.

That guy had been… odd. Not in a bad way, necessarily—just in a "probably spent his childhood in a cave and was learning about the modern world in real time" way. The guy had stared at you like you were a cryptid when you asked what kind of coffee he wanted. You had spent way too long trying to figure out if he had just been raised extremely sheltered, or if something was actually wrong with him. Either way, the guy had stared at his latte like it held the meaning of life, and you weren’t sure whether to find it unsettling or endearing.

Because, seriously. That was not a normal interaction.

Most customers came in, ordered their drink, paid, and left. Some lingered. Some had weirdly specific orders that made you question their sanity. Some just sat there typing aggressively on their laptops like they were composing an email that would change the fate of mankind.

None of them, however, had ever been like Choso.

Since then, you’d been left in peace, which was all you could really ask for in life. Life at the café had returned to its usual monotony. The usual entitled customers still came and went, Greg the Manager still did absolutely nothing while pretending to be busy, and the espresso machine still sounded like it was trying to contact the underworld whenever it turned on. In other words, business as usual. Everything was normal.

Which, naturally, meant something was about to ruin it.

The bell above the door jingled. You sighed, plastering on your most convincing Hello valued customer, I sure do love working here! expression before turning around.

The first person to walk in was a tall blond guy in a suit, carrying himself like he had somewhere better to be. He looked exactly like the type of guy who drank his coffee black and silently judged people who put sugar in theirs. He had the air of someone who used Google Calendar religiously and paid for everything with a metal credit card. The second he stepped into the café, he surveyed it with the deeply unimpressed expression of a man who had already decided he hated it here. You immediately got "overworked businessman" vibes. He looked like he hated fun. You respected that.

The second guy, however…

Oh, no.

Oh, this one was going to be a problem.

He was even taller than the blond one. Very tall. Like, shouldn’t be allowed to exist in regular human spaces tall. He had white hair, wore sunglasses indoors, and was dressed like some kind of high-fashion hobo. He had a self-satisfied grin that made you think he had never experienced a single consequence in his entire life. Something about him screamed problem. His whole vibe was just "that one coworker who does absolutely nothing but still gets paid more than you."

"Nanamin!" Tall Guy whined, dramatically throwing an arm around his companion's shoulder. "See? This place is cute! You never wanna go anywhere fun."

The blond man—Nanamin?—exhaled through his nose with the weariness of a man who had dealt with this for far too long. He shrugged the arm off. "I don’t need fun. I need coffee."

"Okay, but coffee can be fun—"

"Coffee is a means to an end."

"See, this is why you have no joy in your life."

You plastered on your most professional smile, already dreading whatever was about to happen. "Welcome! What can I get started for you?"

Nanamin exhaled slowly, the sigh of a man who was one bad decision away from quitting his job, leaving the country, and raising goats in the mountains. "A black coffee. No sugar."

Bless. A simple, no-nonsense order. You liked him already. You punched it into the register. "Sure. What size?"

"Large. The biggest you have."

"Got it."

You turned expectantly to the taller one.

Tall Guy hummed, tapping a finger against his chin like he was making a deeply philosophical decision. "Hmmm. What do I want? What do I need?"

You resisted the urge to check the time.

"Do you have anything sweet?"

You gestured to the massive menu behind you, which had an entire section labeled Sweet & Flavored Drinks. "Yeah."

"Okay, okay. But like, really sweet?"

"Yeah."

Tall Guy nodded, his wide grin never faltering. "Good. I’ll take the sweetest thing you have."

"...You sure?"

He leaned forward, grinning like a child about to cause chaos. "Hit me with your worst."

You stared.

Alright.

You rang up a Death By Sugar—an abomination of a drink loaded with caramel, white chocolate, vanilla syrup, and enough whipped cream to suffocate a small animal. It was the kind of thing you usually only made for children with zero parental supervision.

Tall Guy looked downright delighted when you told him.

"Yay!" Tall Guy beamed. "And make it with love!"

"I am physically incapable of that."

Nanamin gave a single, approving nod. "Good work ethic."

Totaling their order, you glanced at them. "You want your names on the cups?"

Tall Guy nodded adamantly. "Of course! That’s the most important part!"

Nanami exhaled heavily. "Nanami."

Ah, so not 'Nanamin' then.

"Just put 'The Strongest' on mine," Tall Guy added with a wink.

You didn't know what the hell he meant by that exactly, but you did not react.

You took your sweet time making their drinks, mainly because Tall Guy was watching you with the shameless enthusiasm of a child at a magic show.

"You’re really good at that," Tall Guy commented as you poured steamed milk into Nanami’s coffee.

"Yeah, it’s almost like I work here."

Nanami sighed. "Gojo, stop harassing the barista."

"How is that harassment? I’m being nice!"

"You are being a nuisance."

Tall Guy—Gojo, you guess his name is—gasped, utterly scandalized. "I’m adding joy to their day, Nanamin."

You handed Nanami his drink before he could respond. He accepted it with a grateful nod, took a sip, and immediately looked one step closer to inner peace.

You handed Gojo his monstrosity. "Look at all the caramel drizzle!" He took a sip and moaned. "Ohhhh yeah, that’s the good stuff."

Nanami looked like he had just witnessed a public execution.

"Please never do that again," he muttered.

Gojo, of course, did it again, staring directly into Nanami’s soul as he took another dramatic sip.

You were so glad these people weren’t your problem outside of this café.

"Glad you like it," you said dryly.

To your mild horror, they stuck around after getting their drinks, settling into a table near the counter. Nanami was reading a book. Gojo was not reading a book. He was watching you.

Oh no.

"Hey barista," Gojo called. "You ever get bored working here?"

You stared at him.

"Like, when it’s not busy. What do you do for fun?"

You considered telling him you started counting ceiling tiles just to make him go away. Instead, you said, "Mostly, I wait for my shift to end."

Gojo laughed. "You sound like Nanamin!"

Nanami did not look pleased with that comparison. He exhaled through his nose like he was actively restraining himself from committing a felony.

It was at this moment the door opened again.

You glanced up—

And nearly dropped the milk frother you were holding.

Because there, standing like a glitch in reality, was Choso and Yuji.

Yuji, ever the golden retriever, grinned. “Oh, hey! You guys are here too?”

Gojo turned. “Huh?”

Your eyes darted between them.

They all knew each other?

Of course they did.

Choso approached the counter, completely ignoring the other two men. His expression was blank as ever, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something shifted.

“Barista.”

You braced yourself. “Choso."

“I have returned.”

“Yes. I can see that.”

“I would like another latte."

You nodded, trying to ignore Gojo’s eyes burning into the side of your skull and the way he was grinning like he knew something you didn't. “Got it.”

Gojo crept towards Choso with that same knowing grin. “Choso, buddy, pal. This is a big deal.”

Choso frowned. “What is?”

“Oh, you know,” Gojo drawled, “you like the barista.”

Yuji coughed violently. Nanami looked ready to walk into the ocean.

Choso, to your utter confusion, considered this. Like he was running some kind of internal diagnostic.

Then, after a very long pause—

“Yes.”

Silence.

Yuji choked once again. Gojo lost his mind, cackling. Nanami, to his credit, simply closed his eyes as if this entire experience had finally broken him.

You, meanwhile, stood there with Choso’s latte in your hand, processing the fact that a man who seemed to barely understand how cafés worked had just admitted, without hesitation, that he liked you.

Nanami, who had been spectating in exhausted silence, shook his head. “I regret coming here.”

Gojo pouted. “Oh, don’t be like that! It’s fun!”

“Nothing about this is fun.”

"I think it's fun!" Yuji piped in with a wide smile.

Ignoring them, you turned back to Choso. “So. I guess you, uh, really liked the latte, huh?”

Choso nodded, looking far too serious. “It was the best thing I have ever consumed.”

You stared at him. He stared back, intense as ever.

God. This was your life now.

Choso, completely unaware of the sheer weight of his words, took the latte from you with his usual blank expression.

“Thank you, barista.”

And just like that, he took a sip, eyes half-lidding like it was the greatest thing he had ever experienced.

You exhaled. “You’re welcome, Choso.”

Gojo, still wheezing, turned to Yuji. “You have to let me know how this plays out.”

You just stared at Choso, who was still enjoying his latte like nothing had happened, wondering how your life had spiraled into this.

"Alright," Gojo said, standing up and stretching like he’d been working hard at sitting down. "We’ll be back!"

You had never heard a more ominous sentence in your life.

Nanami placed a few bills on the counter—far more than necessary—and gave you a knowing look, like he already pitied your future.

You watched the four of them leave, took a long breath, and checked the time.

Somehow, you still had four hours left on your shift.

Great.

[foreingersgod]

can you do a kate martin x jealous reader?

like kate was being too sweet with someone else then the reader was like “you really enjoyed your time with her huh?” or something like that HAHAHA

Jealousy . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: during a night out with your girlfriend and her team, another woman gets flirty with kate and leaves you jealous.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

it was your birthday this weekend and kate had insisted on planning a whole big night for you to celebrate. she picked out your favorite bar, invited her team (they were like your family, and a few of your other close friends to come and celebrate. she arranged for everyone to hang out at the bar for the night, order a few drinks, and play a little pool.

she had even bought you a new dress to wear specifically for the get together, on top of all of the other presents she had bought you. she made sure to spoil you despite you telling her you were happy with just the dress. it was a simple thing, the dress was, sleek and black that hugged your curves just right. simple enough for the bar and irresistible enough to make kate want to rip it off you the second you put it on.

you both dressed up nice for the evening. you paired your new dress with some of your simple jewelry and a soft makeup look, throwing your hair up in a quick up do. kate dressed in a casual black suit paired with a white tee shirt underneath. you two looked like a perfect couple.

you arrived at the bar, getting a round of drinks and sitting around with some of your friends. discussions of basketball, work, and school circulated throughout the group. laughter and enjoyment buzzed around you. you were having a blast for most of the night, kate sat next to you with her arm around your waist, keeping you snug against her side.

a few of your friends started to wander off as the night went on, finding someone to go home with or dipping across the bar to play darts with others. but you and kate remained, absorbed in your own conversations.

as you and kate were finishing up a few drinks, you noticed a beautiful brunette from across the bar, sitting across from the booth you occupied. she was twirling her straw around her drink, toying with a strand of hair, and shockingly enough she was staring in your direction. you could tell she was eyeing kate right away, noticing how she watched kate pick up and set down her drink, noticing how she took note of kate’s every move. normally, stuff like this didn’t bother you, you were aware of how attractive your girlfriend was and understood that there would be people who were interested in her. you always trusted kate though, content with how she avoided their gazes and brushed them off.

but your problem arose when the girl got off her seat, fixing her ridiculously short skirt, and started walking towards your table. the girl was fixing her hair and batting her eyelashes as she made her way towards kate.

“oh my god, are you kate martin?” the brunette exclaimed, finally stood at the end of your table. “it’s so crazy meeting you here!”

her voice was so disgustingly high it made your head hurt.

“oh, uh, yea i am” kate gave her a vague smile

“it’s so nice to meet you!” the girl giggled “do you mind if i take a seat?”

you could feel kate gently let go of your waist, tensing up “um, sure, why not?”

why not? was she serious?

the thing is with kate, as much as you love her, she’s too nice of a person. she often has a really hard time turning people down when they ask her for something and she hardly ever tells someone no. you thought it was cute, thought she was so thoughtful and considerate for placing people’s needs before her own. but now, as she’s allowing this random woman to practically flirt with her on your birthday, you didn’t find it as cute.

not only were you irritated that kate just let her sit, but you were almost fuming at the fact that she immediately let go of you. did she not want the girl to know you were together?

the girl sat down in the seat across from you, the table separating you and kate from the girl. but you were sure, if there was a spot available next to kate, she would have took it in a heartbeat. you were already pissed off from the moment you saw her eye fucking your girlfriend, so you were trying to ignore the girl the best you could.

she started rambling about all sorts of stuff. chatting about how much she just loves kate as a player (you knew that was a lie, she probably doesn’t even know what a basketball is), how she really admires how she stays ‘so strong and resilient’ out on the court, and of course inserting stories about herself along the way.

as the girl kept talking, kate pulled more and more away from you. probably subconsciously, but you were so mad that you took it personally. you glanced over at kate as they talked about a specific game she had played extremely well in last week, noticing how kate was smiling ear to ear and having the time of her life. it took all you had not to scoff at her.

“i mean, it’s always tough, playing a game like that” kate told the girl “but yea, i think we held it together pretty good”

“you think? you were like totally amazing!” the girl giggled, outstretching her arms to place her hands on kate’s.

“thank you, that’s really sweet” kate let the girls hands remain on hers “you know i-”

you had had enough of whatever this was. furious at the way kate pulled away from you, how she didn’t even introduce you as her girlfriend or pay any attention to you at all since the girl had arrived. you were furious that kate was letting the girl sit there and obviously flirt with her, letting her place her hands over hers. so you stood up abruptly, grabbing your purse and shooing the both of you out of the booth.

“i’m so sorry,” you fake smiled at the girl, a confused kate staggering out of the booth “but we have places to be, have a good night”

you grabbed onto kate’s arm, dragging her with you as you stormed out of the bar. you didn’t even bother to say goodbye to your friends, just sending them a quick text and paying your tab quickly so you could leave.

“are you ok, baby?” kate asked, completely lost as to what this outburst was all about.

“i’m fine!” you dead panned, exiting the bar and walking to the edge of the side walk, trying to call a taxi to take you home.

the cool air nipped at your bare skin as you hugged yourself, wondering why it was taking so long to find a taxi. kate noticed, trying to take off her blazer and throw it over you shoulders, but you stepped away from her before she could.

“ok seriously, what is going on? why did we leave, i thought you were having fun and now you’re storming out and not even taking my jacket?” kate was growing concerned.

you hesitated before answering, pondering on what route you wanted to take this conversation. “i said i’m fine. im sorry i ruined your night with that girl back there”

kate stood there, staring at you, a faint smirk toying at the end of her lips. then she began laughing. that’s what this is about, she thought.

“what’s so funny? you looked like you were having a great time with her, sorry if i ruined it” you persisted, irritated with her and even more at the fact that you wouldn’t be getting a cab anytime soon.

“that’s what you’re mad about?” she grinned, grabbing your arms and pulling you towards her “baby, you know that’s not what was going on”

you tugged yourself out of her grasp once more, now starting to walk down the street in the direction of your apartment. it wasn’t a terribly far walk from the bar, you think you could manage it.

“baby, come on, don’t be mad!” she called out, chasing after you “i know you’re jealous but-”

“well i am mad, kate” you halted, whipping around to glare at her “and how am i not supposed to be jealous? you let go of my waist the second she sat down, you didn’t even introduce me or acknowledge me at all for that matter, you let her flirt with you, and you let her touch you like that? give me a break”

there you two stood, in the middle of the sidewalk.

“YN, i’m sorry, i didn’t do any of it on purpose i swear that i was just trying to be nice.”

“any one could tell she was flirting with you, kate”

“i know, i know, i’m stupid ok? i really didn’t even catch on, i thought she was just trying to get my attention and i was just trying to be polite so she’d eventually leave us alone.”

she walked over to you, taking your face in her hands, looking down at you and gazing into your eyes. “that’s all it was i promise, i shouldn’t have let you go and ignore you, that was so fucking dumb i know. but i really am sorry, alright?”

you pouted, starting to feel back for accusing her of something she didn’t even do. “it’s ok, i should be the one who is sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to get upset like that. i trust you, really, i do”

“it’s ok,” she smiled, eyes twinkling under the street lamps “you know, i kinda liked it, you being protective and all. i like knowing how much you love and care about me, it’s hot”

you felt your face get hot. you watched as she bit her lip, arms finding their way to your waist, for good this time “oh yea?”

she hummed in response, inching closer to your face to kiss you. her lips collided with yours, tongues fighting for dominance, hands still clinging to your body. you stopped her before it got too heated and people started staring.

“lets take this back home and i’ll show you exactly how much i love you” you whispered seductively in her ear “how’s that sound?”

she nodded enthusiastically, eyes blown wide with lust. “yes m’am”

[dyns33]

Priority task

Another little Deadpool story, with a Spiderwoman reader this time ! Because Pool loves Spidey, in every universes.

Since the beginning, in this universe anyway, Y/N had been the one and only Spider-woman.

She knew there were other spiders, working together with some special watch, traversing space and time, but she had politely told Miguel O'hara she wasn't interested.

If there really was a threat impossible to defeat without her, he could call her, but she already a lot of work in her own world.

One of the most difficult tasks was dealing with Deadpool.

The Merc with a Mouth was unpredictable, changing moods almost every hour when they met. He had even tried to kill her at first.

Then they had talked while he was pinned to the wall. Y/N had tried to send him to prison before, but he always ended up escaping. Besides that, he would sometimes join her during a fight to help her, even if she didn't approve of his methods.

"You have to stop killing people ! Otherwise we won't be able to work together, and I'll have to send you back to prison !"

"And what do I get out of it ? Besides the pleasure of admiring your magnificent ass, of course. Look at this masterpiece. It's worth all the gold in the world, but it doesn't pay the bills, pumpkin. So why would I change what's working ?"

"Because it's wrong !"

"… You're cute. Yellow and White think you're cute too. We could go out if I agree to stop unliving people ?"

"We could at least be friends."

"Hmm. Already friendzoned. But it's still tempting. Normally people yell at me or shoot me in the head, you're the first one to be nice to me."

It was a pretty sad revelation.

Wade Wilson's life was pretty sad. He wasn't a saint, you could blame him for a lot of things, but that didn't mean he deserved all the horrors that had happened to him.

However, there was no way she could feel sorry for him when she saw him shooting criminals, slicing them up with his katanas, slaughtering them with his fists. No one deserved to die, that was the rule.

"Even me ?"

"Yes, Deadpool, even you."

"I can't die, you understand that, cupcake ?"

"I noticed after the first time I found you headless."

"You cried, and you stayed with me until I explained it was going to take a long time to grow back. So cute !"

It was probably because he was so lonely that Deadpool had started following her and imitating her, doing his best to become a hero. He still had mood swings and PG18 moments, but he really tried, apologizing every time he made a mistake and trying to make up for it with as many good deeds as possible.

In addition to gaining the approval of the public and some of the other superheroes, who nonetheless couldn't stand him because of his vulgar and childish behavior, Wade considered Spidey's friendship and pride the most important thing in the world.

"If my future wife was ashamed of me, that would still be grounds for divorce."

"Be serious, Pool."

"I'm being deadly serious ! Only love could change a man like me, with my face like an old avocado who'd taken a nuclear bomb on…"

"Tell White and Yellow to be nicer."

"Aaaw, you're defending me, cutiepie, so adorable ! But it was just me this time, they were saying much more horrible and realistic things."

Yes, managing Deadpool was a full time job. Because he was difficult to manage, because he spent his time flirting with her, and even though she did her best to ignore him, Y/N loved him very much. She kept telling herself he didn't mean what he said. Jokes, nothing more. A game.

She sometimes responded, which had the advantage of shutting him up for a few minutes, frozen in shock, before he started jumping around, explaining point by point everything he had planned for their wedding.

Even if he had been serious, there was a slight problem. Everyone knew Wade Wilson was Deadpool. He didn't hide it, he'd even written it on his business card, and the only reason he didn't like taking off his mask was because he didn't want to receive comments about his appearance.

Before showing her his face for the first time, Deadpool had warned his dear Spidergirl that she would probably feel like throwing up, that she would be scared, that it would probably be the last time she would want to talk to him, because of the nightmares she would have afterward.

She wasn't going to pretend the scars and other deformities weren't visible. But when she patted his shoulder and said she didn't care, all she saw was his bright, grateful eyes. The marriage proposals were even more frequent after that.

On the other hand, no one knew Y/N was Spiderwoman.

It wasn't because she didn't trust Wade. After several months, he was certain he had the ability to figure out who she was if he wanted, and that he wouldn't because he respected the sacred code of secret identity.

It was also ridiculous to be afraid he'd die. Y/N didn't want anything bad to come to him, but after seeing him come back to life more than thirty times, it had almost become normal.

The only times she was as sad as she was furious was when he caused his death. This happened less and less, she liked to believe it was under her influence. Even though he wasn't really in love, Y/N could see he liked her too.

So it was a shock when she ran into him in a coffee shop under her secret identity. Sure, he was wearing his suit, which scared the employees and other customers a bit, but Wade didn't seem to notice her at all, talking passionately to the cashier about all the weird coffee names he wanted to try, while searching for his purse.

"… Damn, I left it in my other suit. Can you put it on my tab ?"

"It doesn't work like that here, sir."

"But it's just a coffee… which costs way too much, I think, just because you add caramel, milk, banana, and honey. I saw you judging my blend, by the way ! I want to see your manager !"

"I'm sorry, sir, if you can't pay, I can't serve you."

"Listen to me, you…"

"I'll pay for him."

Everyone looked at Y/N as if she were completely crazy, Deadpool first and foremost, very surprised that someone would make such an offer.

He then thanked her as if she'd just offered him a kidney, shaking her hand and saying she was a saint. But nothing else.

No remarks about her ass, no compliments like he offered so many to Spidey, nothing at all.

Yet, Y/N had already seen him flirt with a lot of people, and not just heroes or vigilantes. So she felt a little offended.

Curious, she asked him how his day had gone when they met up in the evening to patrol the city together.

"Oh, nothing special, pumpkin love. TV, pizza, a solo session with my unicorn plushie, the usual. Seeing you is the only thing that brightens my day."

"Really ? No memorable encounters ?"

"No. Oh, yes, a very rude cashier with no taste in coffee. I would have killed her, but you would have been angry."

"Is that the only reason you spared her ? No outside intervention at all ?"

"Hmm," Deadpool said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "Maybe the girl who paid for my coffee helped calm me down, a little. It restores a little faith in humanity."

"Was she pretty, that polite young lady ?"

"No idea. I was focused on my morning coffee."

Wade would never have ignored Y/N as Spiderwoman, for a coffee or all the money in the world. But he had seen her, the real her, and it hadn't affected him at all. No interest, not a spark.

She flirted with him less after that, terribly hurt.

Before becoming a hero, she had a lot of insecurities, she didn't like herself much, and it hadn't necessarily improved despite her powers or her notoriety. It was hard to be alone.

But she was used to it, it didn't matter.

"Baby girl ! Wait for me ! Wha… AAAAH !"

Y/N quickly launched a web to catch Deadpool, preventing him from cracking his skull in the middle of the street, but she set him down on a rooftop before continuing on her way, ignoring him.

Maybe she was more hurt than she wanted to admit. Just seeing Wade was becoming difficult to bear, reminding her that he didn't really want her.

"If it's your secret identity you're avoiding me for, I haven't told anyone and I didn't follow you, I promise !" he shouted as she was about to disappear behind a building.

"…Huh ?" she said, frowning, turning around immediately to almost jump on him.

"Spidey ! You're not mad at me anymore !"

"What are you talking about ?"

"… I thought I was super good at lying, but apparently you saw right through me. Yes, I recognized you, okay ?! What girl that cute and with that ass would be nice enough to buy me a coffee ? But I didn't say anything ! I didn't follow you afterward, I didn't look for your name or address, I respected the code of honor, I swear ! And I know you're super shy. Don't run away from me again…"

In the time they'd known each other, it had become quite rare for Wade to manage to surprise Y/N. He could talk about his voices, his fantasies, the unicorn, it was normal.

But at that moment, the Spider froze, not knowing how to react. Not only had he found her beautiful, but more importantly, he had recognized her, right away, and to avoid scaring her, to prevent the people around them from suspecting anything, he had held back, pretending to have no interest in this stranger.

"I know I'm annoying." He continued, lowering his head. "Ugly, and boring, and stupid, and all that. Even if we're best friends, as proven by the two friendship bracelets I wear to keep you from losing yours, I don't want you to cut me out of your life. I love you, Spideygirl."

"I love you too, Wade."

"You're cute. I'm going to dream about it tonight, after a long shower. Because there's you in the costume, you out of it, both at the same time, so many possible scenarios, it's… What are you doing ?"

"I love you, Wade," Y/N repeated after removing her mask, staring straight into his eyes with equal parts hope and fear.

"… I do."

"Huh ?"

"My answer to the priest, for our wedding day."

Y/N groaned as she smacked him upside the head, though she couldn't help but smile. Then she lifted her mask to kiss him, before quickly covering herself and jumping off the roof, leaving him frozen.

It took him almost ten minutes to come back to his senses, if she believed the shouts in the streets as he called out to her, begging her to come back because he needed a name for the weddings cards.

[firewasabeast]

(I made this little headcanon then had to write a fic for it. Here's 2k words of the 118 being obsessed with Tommy ft. Bobby being a dad, of course. Enjoy here or on ao3!)

The Problem

Buck has a problem.

He knows it shouldn't be a problem. Knows he should be grateful. He's never had anything like this before. Never felt so secure in his life. Work is good, home is good, friends are good, family's good, and his boyfriend... well, he's really good.

Buck is in love, like really and truly in love, for the first time ever. Yes, he's said it before, and maybe he meant it, but not like this. He's never had this much stability, and care, and comfort, and security. Buck doesn't just love Tommy, he feels loved by Tommy. Since the moment the words I love you slipped out of Tommy's mouth, there has never been a doubt in his mind that Tommy means it. And he knows that Tommy feels the same way about him too.

But none of that is the problem.

The problem is he's not the only one who loves Tommy.

All of his coworkers love Tommy.

A lot.

Apparently he is a very popular guy with the 118. Buck always knew Tommy was a cool guy, even when he first tried and failed to discredit the claim, but he didn't realize that every single one of his coworkers would also think Tommy was the coolest guy to ever walk the planet.

Okay, maybe they didn't actually think that, but it was obvious that they liked him and they wanted to be around him.

All. The. Time.

At first it was cute. Buck was thrilled that everyone liked the person he was dating. He was overjoyed that they always had something positive to say about Tommy, that they had him included in group chats, and invited him to hangout with the team after a shift.

Then it became... a lot to manage.

Chimney and Tommy had a long history, so it was to be expected that they would hang out on occasion. They both loved to watch classic movies and, while Buck didn't mind one every once in a while, he wasn't a huge fan of black and white so he let them have their time with that. He just didn't expect Chimney to add the Old Classics Movie Network to his cable subscription so there was always another movie being recorded that they needed to watch and analyze.

Tommy and Eddie were already friends, and Buck and Eddie were best friends, so it was easy for the three of them to hang out. Buck could get into wrestling, he liked karaoke trivia, and he was a big fan of learning Muay Thai. But that's where Eddie had a problem.

“Every time you come to Muay Thai,” Eddie whined, “you and Tommy end up going one round, get all horned up, and leave early.”

“All horned up?” Buck repeated with a glare. “What are we, fifteen?”

“You're banned from Muay Thai,” he declared, holding up a finger to silence Buck's incoming protests, “at least once a week.”

Then there was Hen, who Buck thought would care the least of them all.

He was wrong.

She became convinced that she was the reason he and Tommy ever got together, not Chimney.

“Chimney may have been the one to contact Tommy, but it was me who planted the seed in his head,” she'd say, “so I was actually the one who connected you two.”

It turns out Tommy and Karen also had a lot of similar interests, so one double date turned into regular double dates. Often, Karen was texting or calling Tommy to set up the next double date before Buck even knew a thing about it.

Hen also enjoyed Tommy's dry humor. They could battle back and forth for hours in sarcasm wars, and often enjoyed hating on the same things.

Even Ravi wedged his way into Tommy's life. He actually wanted flying lessons for other purposes than staring at Tommy for hours at a time while he rambled on about what each button did.

And Tommy was so kind, so insanely, annoyingly, kind that he always made time for everybody. Buck had no idea how he did it, but he did. He even always had time for Buck too, Buck just wanted more of it.

He knew it was selfish. He knew Tommy deserved to have all the friends and found family in the world, which is why he'd never say anything to him about it.

But, he could talk to Bobby. Ask Bobby to talk to the rest of the team, because he'd tried and they wouldn't listen to him. Or, maybe Bobby could just schedule him off a day where everyone else worked? Give Buck and Tommy a day where distractions weren't possible, because all of the distractions were busy at the station. Surely he could do something.

He should've known better.

The second he tapped on Bobby's office door, Bobby excitedly waved him in.

“It came in the mail today,” he declared, as if Buck was supposed to know what that meant.

“Wh- What came in the mail?” Buck asked cautiously as he sat down.

“The murder mystery game Tommy and I talked about last time you guys came over. I had no clue he was so into puzzles and mysteries. I already talked to Tommy, and you two are coming over for dinner tonight.”

“We are?” Buck asked. This was a lot of information to be thrown his way so quickly.

“Yes. Well, he actually said he'd ask you about it and then confirm, but you already said you didn't have plans earlier, so...”

He should've known that question was a trap. Bobby had asked what everyone's plans were while they were on the way to a call earlier in the day. Buck had answered that he and Tommy didn't have any, which was risky, but his mind went blank in the moment. His actual plans involved a lot of nudity, mind blowing sex, and hopefully some whipped cream, but he was trying to not be so blatant about his sex life anymore.

But now Bobby was looking at him with wide, excited eyes, and he did remember Tommy talking about that game, and Bobby's food was always so good, so it wasn't like he could say no.

“Yeah, of course it's fine.”

Which led them to now, having just enough time to shower and change before driving over to Bobby and Athena's place.

“I know we haven't had as much us time lately,” Tommy said as they reached the door. Of course he did. Of course he noticed everything. “So we'll stay for dinner, and do this game, and we'll go by nine.”

Buck tried to play it cool. “No rush.”

“Evan,” Tommy replied knowingly, dropping a kiss on his temple, “we'll go by nine.”

Who was Buck to argue? “Yeah... Yeah, okay.”

Dinner went smoothly, as if there was another option. Tommy was always great at keeping up conversation, and he and Bobby knew tons of people to reminisce about and catch up on. Tommy had a long history with Athena as well, and a lot of mutual respect between the two, so the conversation never stalled.

It wasn't like Buck was ever left out either. Bobby and Athena were his family; more of his parents than his actual parents. Bobby cared for him, loved him, watched over him in ways his father never did. Athena was a dose of reality when he needed it. She was stern, expected the best from him, and didn't whitewash anything. He felt more comfortable in their home than he ever did in the house he grew up in.

And Tommy always had a hand on his leg, or his back, including him in the conversation or bragging on whatever he did at work that week. When Buck talked, Tommy looked at him like nothing else existed in the world. He listened, hung on to every word.

He made Buck feel special.

Which is why Buck wanted to take him home, rip off all of his clothes, and adore every inch of his body.

He couldn't do that yet though, because it was only seven-thirty and they still had to play the murder mystery game.

It started innocently enough. It was a fun game with pictures, paperwork, some evidence, and background on all the suspects. Buck figured they'd read through the material, follow along, and they'd be led to the murderer in no time.

Then Bobby rolled out the cork board and began pinning suspect photographs and pictures from the “crime scene”.

Things devolved from there.

Athena gave up before nine. “I solve murders all day long, I don't want to do it all night too.”

Buck still held out hope they'd leave on time.

Another mistake.

“Hon, it's getting late,” Buck said a little after nine, gently patting Tommy's back. They were sitting beside one another at the dining room table. Buck had been half paying attention, half going through a Wikipedia rabbit hole that started with active US serial killers and had somehow ended up on the origins of duct tape. “Maybe we should let them get some rest.”

“Buck, we haven't solved the murder yet,” Bobby replied, lifting both of his hands to show all the paperwork. “Cassie's ex-boyfriend is a prime suspect, but I have no physical evidence to prove he did it.”

“I think we should look more into the circus clown,” Tommy replied, handing Bobby yet another piece of fictional paperwork. “I learned a long time ago that you never trust a clown.”

“We already cleared the clown. He had an alibi.”

“Did he though? His best friend, the balloon artist, was his alibi. The clown could've paid him off.”

That's when Buck decided he'd be better off slipping away and joining Athena in the living room.

“Would you like some leftover pie?” Athena asked, eyebrow raised knowingly, as she lifted up her own slice.

Buck nodded. “I got it.”

He returned a moment later, pie in hand, extra whipped cream. He sat down on the couch, across from where Athena was curled up on the loveseat.

“There's not much on right now,” Athena said, staring at the TV, “but these home improvement shows always find a way to reel me in.”

“As long as it's not a murder mystery, I'll enjoy it.”

Athena let out a laugh. “They're in it deep, aren't they?”

“I'm not sure an actual murder would take them away from that game.”

Athena shook her head, peering into the dining room. “Our boys are something else, aren't they?”

Buck smiled. He couldn't help the butterflies in his stomach. The night may not be going as planned, but there was something so sweet, so domestic, about it all.

Everything felt... right.

“Yeah,” he replied, “they're something.”

Two more shows started and ended, and Tommy and Bobby could still be heard in the other room, arguing about whether it was the clown or the ex.

“You know, I looked up that game a while ago,” Athena whispered into the darkness of the living room, the only light from flashes on the TV, “and it wasn't the clown or the ex.”

Buck sighed sleepily. “I think we'll be spending the night tonight,” he mumbled, his eyes slowly closing where he laid on the couch.

“Already made up the guest bedroom,” Athena replied, taking another sip of her drink. “New toothbrushes in the bathroom too.”

It'd be another two hours before Tommy would come and gently wake up Buck and lead him to the guest bedroom. They'd brush their teeth, and change into some of Bobby's pajama pants before snuggling in bed.

And then, before the sun rose, Tommy would be popping up from a dead sleep to exclaim, “It was the candlemaker!” before running out of the room, and apparently right into Bobby who- from the sounds of their mumbled laughter and high fives- had the same epiphany.

Yeah, Buck had a problem. And he hoped he had it for the rest of his life.

[harmonicpearl]

Something i don't know how ppl still dont understad is how OBVIOUS it is that no Mark is gonna outtake the other, no love (neither for Gemma nor Helly) is gonna outgrow the other. And it's not only a matter of if that is possible (it is, its a tv show) it's a matter of narrative and thematic ideas.

The writers have briliantly gave Mark and Gemma a 5-year marriage and Mark s and Helly a half life relationship (because even if they are very young they have known each other for a huge portion of their concious life). This balances the stakes and validation for each Mark, and makes their battle so interesting, because they are literally equally deserving. And since they are equally deserving, having one of them "win" would be contradicting that claim. It doesn't matter if you as an individual have a preference, as liking one of the Marks more (hell, i myself like one of them more, that's human) but ethics dont work like that, ego death doesn't work like that either and obviously the show is trying to say that. This opens two crucial themes to discuss:

First things first, this impossible-winner situation is the fucking dramatic drive of the show. I wouldnt phrase it as Helly and Gemma because they're characters in their own right, but Mark's relationship with Helly and Gemma is there to represent a battle of the ego and conflicted desire. I really think the show chose to make this a romantic conflict because, yeah who doesn't love romance, but most importantly because we are so monogamous as a society that it was the clearest way to show how these two Marks are different people. We can't fathom the idea that you can love more than one person romantically at the same time (it doesn't matter if it's true, it's the predominant thought of our society). And i think they use this aknoledgement of how society works and they were so right to do so because look what everyone is talking about. That's why im so really shocked that some people are trying to bend the laws and philosophy of this show to theorize which Mark will win or which love will he choose at the end. Neither will, and both will. And simply because narratively, thematically, thats the only coherent choice. One of the Marks "winning" or Mark choosing completely either Helly or Gemma, would destroy the very points this show is trying to make. The love for Helly needs to be a rightful pushing force just as equal as the love for Gemma, just as Mark S needs to keep existing as a foil to Mark Scout. The show is trying to say that (to put this coloquially) doesn't matter how shitty or brief or undeserving your life is to a system or to others you are deserving of human rights, freedom and autonomy.

Which gets me to the second point: This goes both ways. Because even if Mark Scout belittles Mark S's experience, lumon did the same to him when they kidnapped Gemma and lured him into severance. They are both being used. After all, i very much think this is a postmodern show dealing with the residue of modern capitalism. This is a show about the problematic and complex relationship between revolution vs establishment. A modern show made in the past century would have framed this as a straight up victim vs victimizer problem but this is different. Capitalism creates this micro-power relationships. Corporations expoit the white collar worker and the white collar worker exploits the cleaning lady. And even if they are both clogs in a machine, the white collar worker and the cleaning lady may have different ideas on how a revolution should play out, or even if a revolution should occur in the first place. And sometimes revolutionaries can have disregard of the lower classes in the name of grater good. With all the shipping stuff (that i also fully enjoy) we forget that THIS is also the conflic that's taking place between Mark Scout and Mark S. Even if they clearly arent aware of all this shit at the moment.

Even so, they, again, are equally deserving of happiness and compensation. And to put Mark Scout in the position of opressor and opressed at the same time is amazing. They both need to win. But how can they both win? Will they both win? And how would a win-win situation look like? This is why i think severance really is something else. I'm at the edge of my seat because i don't have a fucking clue how they will resolve this. But i trust this show to be better than simply make him choose one of his loves or make one Mark overrule the other. They won't do that, mark (jk) my words. Both Marks need to truly work as one, to understad the other's struggle and see it as equally valid and well, negotiate. Just as the white collar worker will have to negotiate with the cleaning lady if they truly want to make an impact should a revolution actually happen. Both Marks need to understad they are not the real enemy and even more, that the real enemy is the cause of this friction in the first place, a friction that only diverges them from the real goal. Helly's and Gemma's love is only the cathalyst to put in motion this conflict. A GREAT choice because just as the Marks, they too will have ideas of their own on how to navigate this situation, yes, but they will also have a say in the innies vs outies vs lumon conflict and well i think these four are gonna surprise us.

[laylaysdelusions]

Waiting room

Paige Bueckers x reader

Plot: the breakup. (Heartbreaking angst)

It’s painful, so fucking painful. 

Paige had left you in the heat of August, to fight for yourself. I mean it wasn’t her fault, it was for the best. You had attachment problems and you were fully aware of that. It was just something you did, you didn’t mean to.

“I’m not good for you honey” she told you as she sat on the end of your floral bed sheets. You knew all six of those words were true but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Days passed and you couldn’t get your bones to move out of their permanent position. It was like time didn’t exist. The wall seemed to the most interesting thing the world had to offer. 

You’d wake up with tears streaming down your face and you’d fall asleep in the same manner. Eventually months began to pass but you still couldn’t function normally. Of course you had to return to work and classes but the world was still black and white. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of the pink bear that laid directly in-front of your bed. Paige had gotten you the bear from the Minnesota State Fair and you remembered every painful detail about that day. It was lovely, truly perfect. When did things change? How does time do that? 

It made the light in your eyes die and your heart beat slower. Maybe you were already dead you just weren’t fully conscious of it yet. 

One day in mid October you trembled in the cold as you walked to your psychology class, that’s when you spotted her. 

Paige had her tongue intertwined with a curly headed girl on a campus bench. Right then and there your heart stopped beating. Your mouth went dry and you swear the air stopped circulating through your body. She’s moved on. The sudden realization made you run as fast as you possibly could to class. How you did it? You still have no idea. It was like your existence was nothing but absence. Every noise was just in the background. You couldn’t feel anything but the pounding in your ears. “This is a nightmare you need to wake up.” You told yourself. This can’t be real life, right? Oh but it was. This is something you are going to have to deal with for the rest of your life. 

The next week passes by without a single text message you received being handed a reply. You know your loved ones were very concerned but life had no point without Paige Bueckers. That right there is why Paige left you. Toxic attachment. Everyone that looked at you two could see how the debilitating love was making you worse. Which is more damaging and dangerous, having Paige and being so clingy it would rot away at you or not having her and every step you take being hell?

The consistent cycle of waking up, not caring, crying, putting your AirPods in, going back to sleep, and doing it all over again was the definition of your life. You were merely a shell of the girl you used to be. Nothing more than a zombie trying to hold it together. 

The winter comes faster than you can imagine. Snow falls down at UConn and you have an even stronger reason to cry. It’s down right freezing. 

You have started incorporating your friends back into your life however it’s a tedious process. You still have what feels like an inhalable heartbreak. At least your friends know why now. 

One day you’re sitting in the library with your friend Ariana when you look up to someone clearing their throat. Oh no. 

Paige bueckers stands infront of you.

It all rushes back intensely and you feel your legs go weak. No matter what she’s about to say you’re still gonna love her like a sick puppy loves its owner.

:(

[leth-writes]

Fishbowl

yandere Chrollo x reader

Summary: There's something wrong with your boyfriend. If only you'd figured it out before it was too late.

Warnings: brief discussions of death and serious injuries, nothing is done to the reader!

There’s something wrong with your boyfriend. You’d never really noticed, beyond the slight, subtle signs, but now, sitting in a dingy warehouse with a raving man waving a gun in your face, you don’t really have much else to do except think. And what you think, is that there’s something wrong with Chrollo.

Chrollo’s kind of a weird guy, as much as you love him. He’s pale and quiet, though he often wears that small smirk, especially when he’s correcting some asshole about the pronunciation of some long-dead composer. His skin is so white it’s almost translucent, and he seems to glow in the moonlight, skin taking on an otherworldly quality you hadn’t ever seen outside of the movies. You’d asked multiple times, only half-joking, if he was part-fae. He always said no, though he did laugh and squish your cheeks, calling you adorable.

His eyes were remarkably shallow, though you often attributed that to some unknown trauma he refused to really address. They were a deep, rich black, and when you stared into them it felt like they’d swallow you whole, but there was a noticeable barrier that blocked you from understanding how he was really feeling, what he was really thinking. 

His face, free of wrinkles or blemishes, often stayed in a flat, resting expression. He didn’t often show extreme emotion, seemed to avoid it, and stared at you like you were a particularly interesting insect whenever you expressed a strong feeling. It sometimes felt like he didn’t… get your emotions, like he only played along to make you happy, rather than understanding how you felt. It sometimes led to problems, like the time you’d been crying because you got fired (you got accused of sending harsh messages to your coworkers, though your phone showed no such logs), and he’d just chuckled and patted your head like you were a dog.

His hair often framed his face perfectly, slick and choppy like he’d just come from the barber, perfectly accentuated by the grey cloth headband he never took off. You’d asked why he wore it so low, once, only for him to say he had a particularly bad scar. He never offered to show you, and you never asked again. You knew not to press when he’d ended the conversation. It wasn’t like he’d tell you anyways.

He always wore dark pants, usually slacks, contrasting with his wardrobe of soft cashmere sweaters and white dress shirts. He dressed like an office worker, so you assumed he was some higher up at a big company in YorkNew, but Chrollo never answered when you asked. He only replied “It’s not important,” and laughed at the confused expression you’d make.

He loved watching you, like he’d never seen another person before. Sometimes he’d just spend hours watching you read or work, face never falling from a gentle smile as he leant on one hand and crossed his wrinkle-free slack-clad legs, staring at you like you were a new species. He loved watching the muscles move under your skin, tracing them as you lay next to him in bed. Sometimes you’d even wake up to him staring at you in the dark, sitting in a chair he’d surreptitiously brought into the bedroom. He’d always said he was making sure you had good dreams.

You had never met his friends, you didn’t know their names, but he loved telling you about their shenanigans. He’d tell you about his boisterous friend getting drunk and starting fights, his friend with the short bob who was an incredible shot, even his friend obsessed with samurai memorabilia. Yet, he refused to let you actually meet them, or even call them. He knew everything about your friends, even more than you had ever told him. You weren’t sure how, because they couldn’t recall telling him anything. That was before they’d all left you, refusing to hang out if you were still dating Chrollo. They all said he was creepy, that he hated them, that he was dangerous. You’d just thought they disliked him for his upbringing, growing up poor. It was about the only thing he’d ever told you.

Now, you were wishing he’d told you more. You imagined going back to that younger, naive self and agreeing with your friends, breaking up with Chrollo and never looking back. Alas, it was too late. You were stuck, and there was nowhere for you to go. You were stuck in some gross, dark room, with the man who had thrown a bag over your head and shoved you into his trunk. Your ankles and wrists were raw from trying to escape the bonds, but they were tied remarkably tight to the thin metal chair you were placed upon. All you could hope is that your death would be quick, that they’d find your body before it decomposed too much to identify you. You could imagine the terrible reconstruction they’d put on the news, Chrollo being interviewed about how tragic it was you were missing while a new girlfriend hung on his arm.

The man who’d kidnapped you said he was trying to get revenge on Chrollo for taking someone from him, but you couldn’t help but think that he was overestimating how much Chrollo cared for you. Then, the lights went out. The man shouted, though it suddenly cut off, and a sickening crunch resonated and echoed around the warehouse. The lights flicked back on and there stood Chrollo over top of the man’s body, neck twisted and bones poking grotesquely through paling skin, white so bright it looked like fresh snow. Chrollo smiled, stepping toward you despite your flinch, and untied you. He smiled, eyes crazed in a way you’d never seen before, and kissed your head gently. “Let’s go home, sweetheart,” he said, smile growing softer and more gentle. His eyes returned to their normal, dead, state.

As you stared into the wide, unseeing eyes of the man who lay dead on the floor, you wondered who was worse off.

[yumeka-sxf]

Thoughts on Spy x Family CODE: White

My thoughts on CODE: White will likely be different from most people since I knew pretty much the entire plot beforehand. I'm a spoiler fiend when it comes to my hyperfixations like SxF, so I read the novelization of the movie back in January and kept up on all the promotional videos and images that were released. But when it was finally time to see the movie for myself, did that ruin my enjoyment? Not at all. For me, it actually made me enjoy it more because 1) I knew what to expect so I wasn't disappointed, and 2) I found myself looking forward to seeing all the scenes I only read about or saw short clips of.

With that said, yes, I enjoyed the movie so much! If you're a Spy x Family fan, or even just a casual enjoyer of the series, it's a ton of fun. It has all the elements we love about the series: clever humor, sweet family moments, and spy action/drama. And because it's a movie, we get to see all of this with a movie animation budget instead of a TV series budget, which is another plus!

One thing to keep in mind with these original, stand-alone anime films based on series is that they're meant for a more general crowd than just fans of the series. Since theaters attract a wider audience than late-night TV and online manga chapters, movies like this serve as a means to introduce the series to people who may only have a vague idea of what it's about. That's why these movies contain a storyline that can fit mostly anywhere in the series chronology and don't have anything canon-altering.

CODE: White is an interesting mix of plots that, for the most part, blend together well. There's the main plot that continues throughout, which is saving Operation Strix by having Anya learn how to make the meremere for the cooking contest, but then there's the Yor jealousy plot B which is resolved in the first half, but is then replaced by the next "plot B" in the latter half of the movie, which is saving Anya from the military.

A lot of people didn't like the "Yor gets jealous" subplot when it was first revealed before the movie even came out, since it seemed to be a rehash of her being jealous about Fiona. I personally didn't have a problem with this since I don't think it's unreasonable for her to get jealous a second time, especially when she thinks she sees Loid doing something extreme like kissing another woman (as opposed to just talking). But the way it was resolved could have been a bit better in my opinion. The ferris wheel scene in the movie very much mirrored the bar scene from the series, but the reason the latter is so effective is because we get to hear Loid's inner thoughts during it; we know he's going full Twilight-mode and isn't being sincere, and that's why Yor kicks him. But then at the park, he talks to her much more genuinely and they work things out. But in the ferris wheel scene, we don't get to hear his inner thoughts so we don't get any indication as to whether his repeating of the marriage vows, etc, is him being sincere or not. Then she smacks him, they insist they aren't fighting when Anya brings it up, and that's the end of it.

I do like the fact that Anya reads their minds and seems happy with what she "hears" in their heads, but I still think the subplot would have felt more complete if it ended after Yor realized her mistake rather than have Loid do the ambiguous Romeo act again. Or it could have been brought up one more time later in the movie, for example, Yor apologizes for hitting him, he talks to her more sincerely, etc. If you're gonna rehash the bar scene, at least rehash the scene that brought it closure, which is the park bench scene. Again, I'm totally fine with the jealously subplot overall, just thought it could have been wrapped up a bit better.

Other than that, there were just a few little issues I had, like how was Anya able to afford what was probably an expensive liquor? (was she really packing that much dough in her little bag? She went straight from the bedroom out the window so it's not like she "borrowed" any money from Loid). Also seemed weird that she didn't pick up on Yor's infidelity worries until last minute. A few things stretched the line of believability a bit far too, like Loid's ability to make perfect masks so quickly, and Anya just happening to hit her head on the button that conveniently opened all the windows on the bridge. Also something here and there that didn't align with the manga, like Yor not having any reaction to sharing a room with Loid, whereas she has a totally different reaction to this in chapter 94. Maybe a bit more resolution for the fates of the villains too. I guess Luca and Dmitri survived the crash, but what about Snidel? Did Loid actually kill him or just knock him out? And if it's the latter, Snidel seems like the type who would want to get revenge. A quick cameo of what happened to them in the end would have been nice.

Speaking of the villains, normally I wouldn't like the fact that they're pretty one-dimensional and not that interesting, but for a movie like this where most people just want to see the Forgers being themselves in fun and exciting scenarios, taking time away from that to make more developed villains who likely won't be seen again in the franchise, would have not been the best choice, lol.

But even though I had some criticisms of the movie, all of them are minor and not enough to overshadow everything else that was enjoyable about it. Besides all the humor, of which there was plenty, there were so many cute "awww" family moments that perhaps didn't lend anything to the plot, but were still important to establish the characters and their relationships, and thus make us care about what happens to them. Like the scene of Anya, Yor, and Bond playing at the hotel...it could have been skipped without anything seeming out of place, but it reveals so much about the characters without being blatant about it: how Yor wants to please Anya despite being a bit embarrassed at first to take part in her game, and then how Anya's eyes light up with happiness when Yor starts playing with her...for a series like SxF that's character-driven rather than plot-driven, scenes like this are so important and I'm glad the film creators realized this too!

There were also so many cute, subtle scenes as well, like when Loid and Yor smile at each other after chiding Anya, as if they're happy to share this moment of exhausting yet satisfying parenting; when Anya reads Loid's mind after he saves her but doesn't reveal what he's actually thinking yet we can imagine what it is based on her expression; Loid showing feelings of comradery with the restaurant owner because their pasts are so similar; Anya quietly and sadly hugging Bond in the bedroom; and in the ferris wheel after Yor feels so embarrassed about misunderstanding what happened with Loid and the woman but then can't help but smile with motherly love when she sees Anya waving at her...the movie is filled with moments like this that are like little love letters to fans who know the true heart of SxF isn't so much the action and spy drama as it is the family relationships.

And of course, as I mentioned before, the animation of the movie is fantastic! Not just the action scenes, which are great by the way, especially Yor's fight with Type F, but the character expressions as well. Anya's always had the most varied and hilarious faces of all the characters, but the movie goes even harder with her expressions, especially when she has to hold in her stool! Her faces were making me both cringe and laugh at the same time! The animators did such a good job making me feel sorry for her but also laugh at her.

I'm not a fan of potty humor, but I was confident SxF would make it funny, and I was right! The poop god sequence in particular was as equally cringe as it was hilarious!

To conclude, CODE: White is a must-see for anyone who likes or loves Spy x Family. I can't say it's a cinematic masterpiece or anything, but for what it's supposed to be - a fun and enjoyable film for those who like the series, it definitely delivers! Can't wait to see it at least two more times during its showing in the US...and more times in the future!

[doberbutts]

@quark-nova it's already a really long post because I blabbered on for a hot minute but I did want to keep talking so I seperated your tags out I hope that's ok

I have actually seen people do this about trans fems too and honestly I think it is exactly what you're saying- that people lack the idea of intersectionality and instead want to view oppression as additive or subtractive. I see people doing this the most when they are trying to frame something as progressive, when instead it is filled with a lot of bigoted language.

Like the example given of Blue Eye Samurai and a group of people claiming it's a racist and sexist problem of white trans mascs, ignoring the trans mascs of color (and even asian and *Japanese* trans mascs in their notes disagreeing with them), while the posts are filled with genuinely fairly TERF-y language. They say "no no I can't be a TERF I love and support my trans brothers and also I support trans fem Mizu headcanons" while also saying "trans men are stealing women's resources and making everything about them". They just tack "white" onto the second statement so you don't think too hard about the transphobia of that sentence.

I find this most transparent when someone asks for an explination of how a trans masc seeing themselves in Mizu is racist, because instead of an explination it's "oh my god white people always ask people of color to do the work instead of researching it themselves, why do you always want us to explain ourselves why can't you just listen to me". I understand where the frustration comes from because I've been on the receiving end of stupidass white people who refuse to actually absorb anything they've been told about racism, but also... don't start a discussion about race if you aren't willing to, you know, discuss. Because then it just becomes obvious that you're using it as weapon and shield and you're not actually interested in anything except an echo chamber that agrees with you and accepts anything you say.

[miausterx0x]

JEFF THE KILLER HEADCANONS

CW: killing, stalking, scars, addiction

OKAY POSTING THIS NOW. I might do a part two sometime, he rots in my brain so im bound to come up w new ideas and stuff but for now this'll do :thumbs_up:

GENERAL STUFF

White, Italian-American but he's not too connected with his Italian heritage

In his early to mid 20s, ran away from home after committing his crimes when he was around 16 and he became a proxy for Slenderman after being on the run for 2 years, making him 18 when he was recruited

Jeff the bisexual, not that he realized/accepted it for a long time

Around 5’8’’/178cm, probably tells ppl he’s taller ngl

He's got light blue eyes and naturally brunette hair that he dyes black

He got into a burn accident when he was younger, an incident that finally flipped a switch on him for good

The burn marks are mostly spread across his upper body, his legs are pretty much free of any damage

The gushes on his cheeks never healed properly or closed as he did them poorly, leaving the edges ripped and uneven

The pain it caused has numbed overtime and he rarely feels it anymore

He managed to partly blind himself by having gone ahead and tried cutting his bottom eyelids in a poor attempt at stopping himself from ever crying (he was a mess and struggling with himself at that point) but he couldn't go fully through with it after he freaked himself out with the damage it did to his left eye

He's got scars all over his body, most of them are from fights with others

He actually wears those battle scars with pride, in his mind they make him seem cool and strong and he even brags about them

Very, very, VERY rare to see him without face paint on. It's not that he’s trying to conceal the damage his face has gone through, he just thinks the white face paint fits him better. Live laugh love guyliner as well

His makeup is waterproof and he even sleeps in it multiple nights in a row, he doesn’t care, he'll just touch it up if he needs to

His eyesight is below average but in his opinion he sees just fine even when he has to squint

PERSONALITY

He can be an annoying bastard when he wants, it's natural for him to be an asshole

If you're a stranger to him he has no problem being borderline harassing with his behaviour and it's worse if he's provoked in some way

It's very easy to pick a fight with him as he's easily irritable and when he fights, no matter if it's verbal or physical, it can get real nasty real fast

If you even look at him funny when he's having a bad day, you most likely will end up on his blacklist

That's to say he’s def got some anger issues he never got to work through when he was younger

The easiest way to befriend him is to impress him, otherwise he's not too interested in getting to know you

When one does befriend him and they become closer, they have to endure his playful banter, jokes and his smug behaviour

He's egoistical for sure. Whether his massive ego is a cover up for his issues with himself he'll never tell.

If you stroke his ego he’ll probs smirk to himself and receive it with no problem, but too much is too much and he’ll get annoyed cause then he just feels like you’re either not serious or you want something from him

Needless to say he prioritizes himself and the people he actually cares about, otherwise he's indifferent or dismissive of others

He's pretty much an ambivert. He can be by himself fine and he prefers it most of the time but he also seeks out the presence of other people from time to time

he’s also kind of an attention hogger, blame that on growing up with his parents not caring enough (doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad attention, both satisfy him)

He’s kind of reckless, rather acts before he thinks and sometimes it works in his favor, sometimes it bites him in the ass and if someone were to point that out he’d probably curse them out or something (he’s bad at admitting he’s wrong)

MUSIC PREFERENCES

He definitely thinks of himself as a music connoisseur of sorts

He’s a huge fan and listens to music pretty much whenever he can

He’s also got different playlists for different vibes. For example when he goes out (to kill) on his own he likes to listen to something that’ll pump up his adrenaline but then again when the night falls and he’s left awake staring at the ceiling he also likes calmer music that is almost melancholic in sound

And he thinks his music taste is better than yours, no debate about that (unless you introduce him to something new that he likes, then he’ll be a bit reluctant about complimenting your taste)

He’s probably sneaked into concerts as well as stolen merch, which btw all his shirts with graphics on them are just merch of bands he likes

If his music taste were to be described with genres his taste would fall into metal and goth and their subgenres

He actually got into the goth scene through Jane when they were young. She had introduced him to the type of music she liked and he actually found himself liking the sound and researched different subgenres on his own time. Would he admit that Jane got him into it? Probably not, if anything he’d give her just a little credit

He's more focused on the melody of the song rather than the lyrics. He might not even know the lyrics to his favorite songs because he thinks the melody on its own is banging enough

Some bands I think he’d specifically like are She Wants Revenge, Slipknot, Type O Negative, Korn, Lebanon Hanover, Twin Tribes and Mareux

When he was younger he used to be a big emo, now he slightly cringes at the thought yet finds himself sometimes revisiting the songs and bands he used to listen to on loop when he was in his teens

FASHION

He’s not too particular with his clothes, most often he steals the stuff he wears from his victims

He does like alt and edgier fashion though but he doesn’t care to specifically seek out for clothes that fall into that style too much

Accessories are a different thing. He's like a crow when it comes to cool jewelry and might even target someone just to steal a spike bracelet from them

A big lover of his white hoodie. It’s almost like a part of him and he even feels weird going out without it

^ And it’s often covered in dried blood. He views the stains as some sort of trophy from his successful kills and is against washing it unless someone actually makes him do that (but that would only happen after a ridiculous amount of resistance from him)

His wardrobe mostly consists of dark colors, apart from the couple of white tops he has

Knowing Jeff’s preferences, Nina sometimes alters his clothes and makes them more fitting to his aesthetic, which despite his act of indifference he sort of appreciates

He’s got a few piercings and he’s done all of them himself except for his snakebites

The first time he pierced himself he got his ear infected and Jack had to treat it

After that he's got the hang of it and has been free of any serious infections

His snakebites were the first piercings he ever got when he was young, approximately 15 or so. He got them done by some shady guy in some even shadier circles he hung around in as an act of rebellion against his parents

FOOD & DRINKS

He's not picky with food, like at all

Sure there are things he doesn't like but he eats pretty much anything

When he was on the run after attacking his family he didn't really have much options and ate whatever he could find just to keep alive and going

His favorite type of food is homemade meals and he prefers to cook his own food if he can, partly because of his distrust to others

And he's decent at cooking. He learned when he was young and still living at home but everyone has the impression of him that he can't cook for his life

Loves a good ol’ Monster Energy, the drink is imprinted on him since early age

The type of guy to forget to drink water tbh, he’s kind of dismissive when it comes to taking care of himself in general

BAD HABITS

Killing and stalking, obviously

Depending on his mood he may take his victims out quickly with a simple stab to satisfy his craving for control for the moment, but at times he can get brutal to the point he leaves an impossible mess

He's not a long term stalker if he plans on killing some stranger. He'll follow them throughout one evening and be done by the night

Though sometimes he'll get curious about other people’s habits and way of operating, and he may follow or watch them out of sight to gain more information

He's a regular smoker and he’s not planning on quitting it

Steals a new pack in advance every chance he gets. He does go through one fairly quickly after all

Also a drinker. He's not addicted like he is with nicotine but when he drinks he often takes it too far, drinking too much too quickly

Sometimes it's a choice, sometimes he just loses track of his limits yet he would insist he meant to get shitfaced, thinking that works better for his image

HABITS/FREE TIME

He’s the type to consider killing as his habit but apart from that there are a few other things he finds himself drawn to

Music, as said before, is a big part of his daily life. He likes to just hang in his room and have music in the background, usually blasting it from some busted stereo he found one day

A knife collector and he has favorites based on how many kills he's gotten with them, how he got them and the style of the knife. Will ramble about them if you don't shut him up fast enough

He used to draw fairly regularly when he was still young but over the years he's sort of dropped it. He might still doodle something if he's given a pen and paper and he has nothing better to do, but he doesn't value the habit much at all anymore

i mmmiiiiight do more hcs with the other creeps, lemme know if y'all are interested in hearing me yap abt the others too cause then i'll actually make a point to myself to write them down lololoololo

[flamingpudding]

Modern (Fenton) Ghost Hunting Part 1

Ties to: Post from under 'It started with a Ouija Board' found in the Masterpost

A/N: I got a little stuck with this and there is another bigger fanfic project I started working on that has me distracted. But I wanted to post at least part of this before I might end up in radio silence for three weeks cause I am visiting family out of country and have no idea about internet access there yet 😅

Danny was in a good mood as he slurped the ecto-shake his mom had made upon his return from the Zone. It was one of the more harmless and ghost helping food inventions his parents had come up with, once the truth was out of the bag when he was more or less forced to take on his kingly duties. Though his mom's ecto-fudge special (that was also one of the few ectoplasm infused foods not coming back to life) made for only him and Ellie was even better than the shakes. It wasn't better than their special family recipes their Dad loved so much but it came a close second.

He sipped on it more as he fell back into the couch as he flicked through some TV channels. His last trip to Gotham had been a month ago and he mused that he probably would need to visit soon to update Lady Gotham on the status of the Garbage Disposal Leaks. It was a pain to deal with but hey at least he, for once, got to be the mean guy to yell at the observants how they could have left these alone for over a hundred of years.

Seriously? If he could, he would stick Sam and one of her righteous rants onto them too.

So yea Danny was in a good mood he had gotten rid of another leak which only left a couple more to take care of and then put the observants into their place with another petty with hidden insults filled and Sam inspired as well as co-authored lecture.

He would give Lady Gotham a present for giving him such a great opportunity with this problem, even if that wasn't her intention. There was also a rumor in the GZ that Box Ghost and Walker had gotten beat up by Lady Gotham several times while he was busy, he would like to hear what that was about.

In all this Danny completely forgot about his encounter with the vigilantes and that his parents told him about a new business partner that was interested in their Fenton Ghost Tech that wasn't weaponry but focused on co-existence, like the Fenton (blob-)ghost feeder.

So when the doorbell rang and Danny went to open the door, thinking it might be one of his friends. He nearly choked on his ecto-shake as he came face to face with a person he only knew from paparazzi shots or Tucker's endless rants about their technology.

"Hello, I am Tim Drake-Wayne! I believe I have an appointment with the Drs Fentons? I am not too early am I?"

-------

Red Robin was on his wits end. After the first success he had used various more 'modern' summonings in hopes of getting their ghost to show up again. But most of them ended with the same white ghost or only one other ghost claiming their name as Box Ghost to appear. Strangely when they did appear, after about a minute after their appearance an invisible force started to attack them to which these ghosts instantly turned tail and 'unsummoned' themselves. They didn't even give Red Robin the chance to ask anything.

In the end after the third time of summoning that white ghost called Walker, the ghost peeked out from that portal once and the moment they spotted him sunk back into it. Not even bothering to tell him about any rules RR might have broken. Since then none of his summons appeared to work anymore.

Though the vigilante at least concluded that whatever had attacked their teenage ghost most likely was also the driving force behind Walker or any other ghost refusing to answer his summonings. He had suspicions that might have something to do with Lady Gotham, the teenage ghost mentioned and had been unable to summon at all.

Of course Red Robin couldn't leave it like that so he dug deeper into the whole ghost cult thing and came across published research papers. Apparently the ghost cult wasn't just an occult but also a science, that he highly doubted was real. The deeper he dug the more concerned he became, for one that ectoplasm they mentioned looked awfully a lot like Lazarus Water, and second the research from the Drs Fenton he found was awfully a lot biased until a year or so ago when they suddenly invalidated all their previous research and published a nearly completely different thesis.

Though the teenage vigilante had to admit everything they offered on their website looked a whole lot more modern and right out of a SyFy movie than any of the tools he had already purchased, from a ghost Wikipedia (which surprisingly included information about Walker and that Box Ghost), to protective gear, to feeders and ectoplasm infusers.

So after a small recon with his siblings and listening to their disagreement and another rant from their youngest about Pit Demons, Red Robin made the decision to check these Drs Fenton out undercover. And who better to do that than Tim Drake-Wayne, CoCEO of Wayne Enterprise who got interested in their ectoplasm-powered gadgets designed for co-existing. After all Gotham might just be as hunted if not more with the crime rate they had.

His siblings were not happy, he knew that but he took the earliest chance he had, to take a private plane to Amity Park and made an appointment with the Fentons on a saturday afternoon.

He made sure to smile pleasantly as the son of the Drs Fentons opened the door and took his time staring. Before finally inviting him in after a shout from the Drs. resounded somewhere behind him in the house. Tim of course eyed the glowing green shake the other teenager was drinking, already forming plans on getting a sample of it the first chance he got.

"Mr. Drake! Such a pleasure to have you here! You have already met my little boy Danny, my husband will join us later he got hold up by my daughters. But we do have a couple of inventions prepared for showcasing, we could also go over some of the theories first if you prefer until my husband can join us.." A woman came up shaking his hand and the teenager, Danny, stepped away from them retreating further away but staying in earshot, Tim noted.

"Dr. Fenton, thank you for having me. I am looking forward to learning about this ecto-energy and your Fenton-inventions, I believe one was called an Ecto-Infuser?" Did he imagine it or did that boy cringe? Also the boy was clearly watching him, he tried to appear nonchalant but the way the other teen's eyes followed Tims every move as well as the guarded look in his eyes was making it obvious.

"The Ecto-Dejecto, originally designed to weaken ghosts but is now one of the many medical tools that can help a ghost survive if they do not have a steady supply of ectoplasm." Dr. Fenton easily explained while leading him over to the seating area.

"Danny be a dear and bring our guest something to drink. Coffee or Tea?"

"Coffee would be fine." Not like he would actually drink it. As much as he and his siblings made fun of Bruce's paranoia, he was not about to drink coffee offered by people who research ghosts. Besides, looking around, he wasn't sure how well they followed OSHA and he wasn't about to potentially drink a coffee infused with Lazarus Water. If that ectoplasm was Lazarus water. But he would take it with him as one of many samples.

"Sure things mom. Should I bring out the fudge too?"

Tim's ear twitched and he turned ever so slightly in the direction of the son. No it couldn't be, could it?

"Oh please be so kind."

"Will be right back."

Now Tim wished he had forced at least one of his siblings along. Because if his ears didn't betray him then this teenager had the same voice like the ghost kid. Though his memory could be slightly impaired because of the time frame since he had last heard it. He would need to get a voice recording now too and play it to his siblings.

[liveontelevision]

R and R | Lucifer X OC!Reader

Another! Tadaaa

If i'm being totally honest, i was Stoned out of my mind when i wrote this, so i can't guarantee it's top shelf, but here ya go.

TW: some mentions of self-harm, suicide, but mostly fluff and suggestive stuff

Enjoy ;)

♡♡♡

You stumbled upon the renovated hotel directly after arriving in hell. It was a dark and confusing night, but you hadn't had the easiest life anyway. Barely getting by day to day, with a history of depression and self-harm, sometimes your only solution to your problems was to keep walking forward. So you did just that, leading you to a fantastical hotel that seemed to be giving away free rooms.

You entered the lobby, covered in dirt, blood, and whatever else was on the streets of hell. You worked as a waitress, and on an especially rough day, your break time was spent taking your own life. And here you are, in a pink and white striped, vintage uniform dress. Along with a little apron, that still had written orders on it in your pocket.

Looking an absolute mess, Charlie immediately took you in and fixed you up before rambling about the redemption aspect.

It was a miracle that you stumbled upon the clean and comfortable rooms available. It wasn't anything that fancy, but after being on the streets until your end, this was heaven.

After appreciating a significant amount of pampering, a hot shower, comfortable clean clothes, and a cushy bed, you were introduced to the rest of the hotel residents. Everyone seemed lovely, some.. interesting.. personalities, but nothing you weren't too intimidated by. Except for Alastor. The tall, shadowy figure put you entirely on edge, and you hated to admit that you were actually afraid of him.

Moving on -

You've been a resident at the hotel for 6 months! They did say redemption would take a while, but at this point, it was becoming hard to believe.. Still, in reality, why would you leave? You created a chosen family that can't be compared to your living family in any aspect. Not to mention the slightest crush on the king of hell himself.

It was something you were ignoring for weeks, but his humor and caring nature was too hard to ignore. The fact is, you start noticing little things when you develop feelings. How his eyes sparkled when he looks at Charlie, and fiddled with his ring when he became anxious, and how his hair get's messier when he seems stressed. You assume that he doesnt really take care of himself when theres too much on his plate.. it almost made your heart ache just thinking about it.

You also notice how he unconsciously flinches at the slightest touch, even to Charlie. From the sounds of it, he hadn't been this active and social for years, so physical contact had to have been sparce.

It was just because he was working on things.. yeah, important things!

Of course, its your anniversary of arriving at the hotel, so you were welcomed into the lobby that night with banners, balloons, some sloppy cookies, the works; everyone was there to celebrate your progress. The night consisted of a heart-felt speech from charlie, some disturbing accessories gifted to you by niffty, and a lot of drinking. Lucifer was prone to getting lost in a conversation, especially with you. And even moreso after a few rounds of whiskey. Very late into the night, you finally noticed how everyone had gone to their rooms, leaving you and Lucifer in a passionate conversation about whatever important project he was currently working on.

You found yourself facing him entirely, your knees brushed against his side with every roll of your barstool. You were too intoxicated to notice his small reactions to it. Occasionally, it would cause him to stutter or make him lose his focus. You were rudely dissociating while he talked, noticing his hair was slightly messy. It must have been another long day.. A small piece of hair fell into his face, but he didn't do much about it, continously blowing it out of his eyesight and combing his fingers back through his hair. It was all you were able to focus on while he spoke, almost to an annoying extent. You let out a sigh and simply brush the hair out of his eyes during one of his stories. You leaned back and propped your elbow on the bar, waiting for him to continue on after he stopped talking for some reason. It finally clicked that you may have overstepped his boundaries. He was blinking his widened eyes, just a slight blush across his cheeks. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands.

"Oh! Oh- Lucifer i'm sorry i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything I just-" you rambled an apology out before he snaps out of his fazed state. He quickly calms you down;

" Nope! No-ho-hope you are great. Fine! You're fine, it's fine.." his drunken babbles dug his grave. He groaned and laid his heads in his hands for a moment.

"Just.. i've been alone for so long, you know? I always get a little nervous when people do that.. type of thing..." He leaned up, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

For some reason, your only thought process was to try to calm his nerves any way possible.

" S-sooo.. do you want, like, a massage or something?" That bold comment was never something you'd say to royalty, even to ones you've become close with. Lucifer's eyes grew even wider as he stuttered nonsense.

You slap your forehead, "Fuck! Lucifer, i'm drunk i swear.. i'm sorry. If you manage to remember this night after blacking out, do me a favor and forget this whole thing, okay?" You rambled.

".. Yes."

It took you a moment to process what you just heard. You looked over to him, his shoulders were tensed as his hands clenched fists onto his thighs. He was looking away, biting the inside of his mouth, possibly to stop him from saying anything else. You blinked, a small smile spread across your face, just seeing this powerful demon acting all embarrassed.

"Okay. Sure, yeah!  I mean.. if you're comfortable, i.. i don't mind doing it." You responded. There was no reason to debate this, playing it off as a bold response. Lucifer gulped, his face only getting hotter with every word.

He takes a few deep breaths," Fuck it.. Listen, I trust you." He smiled at you, the kind of smile that made your heart melt. You try to switch the topic as the two of you moved up to his room, simply to avoid the dreaded awkward silence. You got into another friendly conversation about something unimportant, that will have been forgetten in a matter of hours.

You've been in his workshop once or twice. It seemed like he kept the doors locked often, probably nervous about anyone seeing the mess that was inside. It wasn't too bad this night. He did have to swipe a few rubber ducks off the couch, so there was a place to sit, though. Lucifer plopped on the couch, his back stretched heavily as his head leaned over the back of the head rest. He rubbed his shoulder in this relaxed position, seemingly stressed just by being in a place he associated with work. That didn't stop you from taking a mental photo of him in this state. He wore a white shirt, decorated with puffed sleeves that were rolled to his elbows, and a small ruffle coming from the neck line. He crossed his  legs in his regular heeled boots and began to explain some work he was struggling with. He brushed his hair back into place again, looking to you as he did and noticing you were still standing. He cocked his head before silently slapping the cushion next to him.

" So.. how we gonna do this?" He tries to play off the suddenly intimate moment with a jokingly flirty voice.

"Ah! Right, well.. you could - face this way, and i'll just -" you quickly sat with your legs underneath you and take a hold of his shoulders, moving his body to have his back face you.

"Ookay. So.. um, tell me if this is.. uncomfortable, okay?" You decided to set that boundary for him, and he nodded in response. He looked down slightly, revealing his neck to you, already relaxing his shoulders.

Your hands hesitated for a moment just reaching out to him. Finally making contact, you noticed a familiar little flinch, making you pull away immediately.

"Sorry! Sorry, go ahead.. uh- please.." he muttered. You nod and try again, your hands touching his shoulders much slower than before. He slouches his back towards you, letting out a satisfying sigh just a few moments later.

You moved your massaging hands from his shoulders to his shoulder blades, then to his middle back, then slightly lower. As you focused on specific areas that simply felt harder to dig into, you occasionally ran your fingers up and down his spine. He shuddered every time, making you do it just for the reaction at certain points.

You brushed another spot near his side, that made him flinch. It took both of you by surprise, being simply one of those spots on your body that make you jump. He let out a sudden hic, turning his head back to you. Your eye contact felt long overdue. The couch wasn't very large, his actions left him just a few inches away from your face. You hold your breath, worried that he'd hear how fast your heart was beating. You take the sudden interruption as a chance to make a suggestion.

"Can I.. can i do your- uhm..." You pointed to his chest, implying what you were too nervous to say. He almost stopped to think for a moment before shifting his position to face you directly. You let out your breath and looked at the nervous demon in front of you. His face was rosey pink, his eyes half lidded. You take out another quick breath before reaching back up to his shoulders. You dug into his shoulder and collarbone area, nervous to go any lower. Your thumbs traced the divots of his collarbone as your fingers reached up across his neck momentarily. He melted into every movement, his body moving with the direction of your hands, his eyes finally resting shut.

You got as lost in it as he did, the massage suddenly turning into your hands lightly tracing over his features. You could tell he only needed the slightest comforting touch to relax. Your fingers traced down the center of his chest, then made circular motions over his abdomen, then back up, tracing across his arms and squeezing his palms lightly. He flexed his wrists as if he was about to hold your hand in his. You were embarrassed to admit how excited that madd you for a moment. While running your hands near his sides, you accidentally reach into his partially untucked blouse. You both gasp and pull away, giving each other the same wide-eyed face. Lucifer was first to break eye contact. He looked at your hands for a moment before letting out a brave breath and unbuttoning his shirt from the front. You cover your eyes and stammered out.

"Woah-woah! It was an accident you don't have to do this if you-"

"Oh! Shit! Ah-hah.. i'd.. i mean, i wouldnt mind... if .. you.. wouldn't?" He bashfully replied, covering his previously unbottoned chest.

"No, i don't mind.." Your responses were becoming more confident, uncovering your face. You almost smile at him but become too flustered watching him remove his shirt. He let his top sit at his waist, simply pulling the shirt off his shoulders. His skin was like porcelain, smooth and white, and surprisingly cold to the touch. Your hands pressed on his chest, attempting to heat him up with your warm hands. Either you pushed too hard, or he expected something different, but Lucifer follows your hands and lets you essientally push him back to lay on his forearms. You can't handle it. He looked so amazing in this position. You both mentally decided that it was best to just not question this increasingly intimidate moment.

You resume running your hands across his chest, noticing his breath changing. After just a couple minutes, he was putty in your hands. His forearms were shaking and gripping the edge of the couch, ready to give out. Then he finally gave in, making him drop his back to the cushion of the couch. You followed his movements as the position slowly shifted, and your knee moved in between his legs, trying to keep up with his slouching torso. He's breathing heavily from his lips, his face a tomato red, while he can barely keep his eyes open. You enjoyed his reaction too much to ruin this moment, but god, you were desperate to be closer to him. You swirled your palms down his torso and abdomen, tracing his v lines until you lightly grazed the hem of his pants.

You stop yourself, pulling your hands away and keeping them close to you, hoping to hide your heaving chest until you calmed down. It takes him a minute to tune back in, looking up at you with concern and slight disappointment. His eyes darted around for a moment before sitting up and breaking the silence.

"You.. uh.. you want to stop? You've done more than enough, trust me, Way more than.. I.. erm.. fuck it. If you're not up to it, it's okay.. but-" he stopped his mumbling, to slowly pull out his 3 sets of wings. To comfortably adjust their size, he had to essentially curl them in your direction. Being as large as they were, they were nearly encasing the two of you together. You shrink back, curiousity hitting you before he could properly ask. You ran your hand across his feathers, simply intrigued by their color and softness. He let out a soft yelp, making you pull back again. Again, you two give eachother a wide eyed stare, not sure how to follow up that kind of reaction. At this point, you finally let out a snort and started to laugh. It was quick to lighten the mood, as he joined you.

"Keep going." He smiled at you, a beautiful sparkle in his red eyes, as he reached out to take one of your hands. He took that hand and gave its palm a small kiss.

"Ooh~ i'm honored, your highness." You teased. He responded with wiggling his eyebrows and sending a joking smirk in your direction, hoping that would conseal his excitement to your words.

It didn't, really.

You gently take your hand from his, and continue running your fingers across his feathers. They flinch at any contact but still folded into your hand with a longing to be held. His flirtatious demeanor immediately folded, letting out another sigh. He became a bit vocal this time, letting out low hums every now and then. And sometimes, he would attempt to hold his eyes open just to look at you. He wasn't sure if you could tell, being too concentrated in your work, but he didn't care. He loved the view. His breath became heavier again, but with the close proximity and his wings keeping you two close, the area became very heated.

You send a puff of air close to his feathers, letting out a small chuckle at his sudden shock. The laughter between the two of you slowly dissolving into sweet smiles. The light was slightly dampened by the coverage of his wings, yet you were still able to see his shifting eyes. He leans towards you, breathing slowly. In response, you place your hands back on his chest, causing him to sit back up a bit. He almost looked upset for a moment, being stopped from moving towards you. You gather the courage before moving in closer, your legs nearly overlapping each other at this point. You lean in just a few inches away and shut your eyes, allowing him to finally make the decision to meet your lips together.

The teasingly long tension from this intimacy seemingly burst. Lucifer's wings pull back, tucking back behind him. He breathes heavily into your lips, his head swaying in the direction of yours, still melting into your touch. To keep him from completely collapsing, you keep your hands firmly on his chest. His arms tenderly grab yours, just needing something, anything, to anchor himself. You pull away after a while, allowing him to catch his breath.

Even in this winded, flustered state, you could both tell this is something he's needed for a long time. It was a long night, following every desire that he was too embarrassed to ask for and loving every moment of it. It felt so good to give this sweetheart something he didn't realize he needed; something he deserves. You end up leaning your back on the couch arm, his back flush to your chest. Your fingers were running through his hair slowly, providing a very satisfying scalp massage. The warmth coming from you body, and him unknowingly using your chest as a pillow was more than enough to lull him to sleep. You couldn't remember if he was awake at the time, but you continued to plant a small kiss on the top of his head before falling asleep right underneath him.

---

You sit up quickly from your sleep, immediately wincing at the light coming from the workshops' windows. After taking a moment to get used to your throbbing head, you finally took in your surroundings and then the flood of memories of the night before hit. Your eyes went wide, and you groaned into your hands. Despite this reaction, you were so glad that you remembered last night. You finally notice a blanket over you and a large duck plush underneath your head, which made you smile until realizing Lucifer was gone. Your chest dropped, immediately thinking of what you could have done to make him leave you here, alone.

"Feeling like shit, my love? 'Cause i sure am!" His voice comes from the door, in an entirely joking tone. You quickly turn to see him, letting out a sigh of relief. The king of hell made you fucking pancakes. He wear a little apron protecting the same shirt he wore the night before, and placed your plate at a nearby table. You hobble off the couch, groaning from the stiffness of your body. Lucifer was quick to pull out your chair, and push it back in once you were seated, the table set with a variety of fruits, the tall stack of pancakes, a small glass of water, and a large mug of coffee. Clearly, that was what you went for first. The drink shot you awake, noticing the freshness of the ingredients and its preporation. You take in a large fork-ful of hotcakes and let out a stereotypical hum.

"You're amazing, Lucifer." You mumble out of your pancake-filled cheeks. He places his hand on yours, simply smiling at you from the side of the table.

"Thank you, darling. I really needed that.. like Really needed that." He huffs out, becoming embarrassed again. He didnt even stutter holding on to your hand. You finish off your food, having some light conversation that came easy to the two of you after last night.

Alastor's broadcast chimed through a nearby radio, "Hellish morning, residents! ~ I'm sure you all had a restful sleep after your nightly activities! Your planned activities for today include ... "

Alastors voice quietly fills the room, announcing some of the exercises Charlie had planned for today. His phrasing made you nervous, as if he knew what you were up to. It also gave you an uncomfortable flashback to a high school P.A. system.

" I should get going then, right? Busy... trying to be redeemed.. and stuff. You know." You slide out of your chair, letting out a nervous chuckle, not seeing his strange reaction to you mentioning redemption. As if he were scared to lose you to heaven. Before you have a chance to look back at him, Lucifer is wrapped around your waist. He shifts to stand into the embrace, as close as he could be. He leaves a hand on the small of you back, and the other on the back of your neck, his clawed fingers entangled in your hair. It takes you a minute to hold him back, just from the shock, but you held him tight, closing your eyes and nuzzling your nose into his hair. That's when you notice how lovely he smelled.. probably an apple scented shampoo. -And how he never flinched to your touch after that night.

♡♡♡

I left this one pretty suggestive, because i haven't really written smut before. I might rewrite this if anyone's interested in it going that route tho!