#maple scribbles

[maplerisu]

Woag

[maplerisu]

Day 1! I have no idea why they turned out looking so ominous lol- Creator and their child.

Hello Commewnity!

I decided to make a fun (general) creative challenge for your mews and twos this month! Artists AND writers are both welcome to join the prompts!

(I'll be doing that myself too in @mewtales )

Made them specially for the whole beloved people in the commewnity ♡

[little-saw]

🐻🌿🦌🍂🍏

. Fauna and Maple moodboard ->

media: animal crossing

age appropriate : to my knowledge yes !

theme : cozy outdoors, plants, respective animals

req by : @wisteriawhispwood444 :)

Note: I inlittle space rnand made this, hope it look nice, i couldn't find a way to fit lily in wit their aesthetics, so I coukdalways make a solo lily one in future ! :3

[lumilasi]

Huevember 4: Maple

Finally found enough energy to do the next one. I first considered another character, but decided to go with Mariella instead.

...I admittedly feel this would've been better if her hand wasn't visible, but I needed her holding the leaf to connect this to the prompt properly lol

Also, wanted to share this fun mishap that happened while I was testing out color filters:

Accidental Poison Ivy

[idiotscribbles]

Justifying your crimes all by yourself, lovely?

[tapejob]

"sara," her father said, "life is a prom. / i know you won't disappoint me and mom."

i have been, for some good reason, delving back into my showtunes playlist recently because of corporate boredom, and was struck for the sudden inescapable nostalgic urge for those old animatics that used to be suuuper popular.

anyway for now, i raise you a concept: mitch marner x ballad of sara berry (35MM)

[psycho-scribbler]

my ass will find ONE sad melancholy song from my home country aND PROCEED TO COME UP WITH THE SADDEST FUCKING STORY ON EARTH-

now ive got two oh god what am i doing

this is going to be spectacular and horrifying and relatable and tragic and i love it

[sungbites]

1:06 A.M ━ mark lee

pairing : mark x fem!reader. genre : fluff, est relationship warnings : kissing synopsis : your bf loves singing to u wc : 0.9k a/n : pls listen to 200 by mark while reading this its CRUCIAL!!! if u enjoyed like n reblogs are always appreciated

you were leaned up against the foot of the couch on the floor, sitting on the living room carpet. on your lap, you had your laptop, typing away your final submission for your digital portfolio. next to you, mark sat, scribbling something in his notebook. you were too caught up in your own work to even notice him. but all he was doing was staring at you. 

he stared at every feature of yours, the way your lips curved to fit perfectly on your face. or the way the light of the candle hit your face, highlighting some of his favorite features, creating a golden shadow. the light in your shared apartment was romantic, the two of you had the main lights off and just relied on the lamp along with the candle that was lit on the coffee table. 

you sighed softly, leaning back against the couch to rest your back a little. you turned to mark who was just looking right at you. “what?” you smiled, making him smile as well. his cheeks turned up and he shook his head, writing in his notebook again. “what are you writing?” you scooted closer to him, reaching over to push some of his hair out of his face. 

usually, mark had his hair styled but right now it was a little messy since he was home all day. it suited him well, looked so cute on him. “just a song” he hummed in response, reaching over to pick up his guitar and place it on his lap. he played some notes, trying to feel out the vibe of the song, then started playing the main part. you watched as his fingers moved along the guitar, smiling as he played. 

he stopped playing and looked to you, as if trying to get approval. you nodded and smiled, making him smile. “sing it for me” you mumbled, your portfolio being long forgotten now. “it’s only a couple lines babe” he said, looking down at the notebook. “i don’t care baby, your voice is pretty i wanna hear it” you said, looking at him. he loved when you looked at him like that, like you held all the love in the world for him and only him. 

mark sighed, smiling softly. he began playing that same part again and on the 2nd beat he started singing. mark had a way of singing, laid back and a little bit raspy. his voice was sweet to you, smooth as well. almost like maple syrup in a weird, ironic way. you rested your arm and head on the couch, listening to him sing to you. 

some of the lyrics you couldn’t understand, but there was one that stuck out to you. “you’re 106 and i’m 94” he sang, holding out that last note. he continued strumming even after the lyrics were done and stopped. he looked to you, smiling. “did you like it?” he reached over, playing with some stray locks that sat on your shoulder, twirling your hair around in his fingers. “it was so good babe” you said, sitting up straighter now. 

he smiled at you, kissing your forehead. he leaned back now, going back to scribbling some lyrics down. you stared at him and smiled, tilting your head softly. “what did that lyric mean, you’re 106 i’m 94?” you hummed, now head propped up by your arm that was once again resting on the couch cushion. mark looked to you, his cheeks a little rosy, he did that when he was shy. “god babe, it's embarrassing,” he confessed, looking down at his guitar. you giggled softly and shook your head. “cmon baby just say it” you smiled at his antics. 

he sighed out, changing his position to mimic your own, his own elbow propped up on the cushion and his hand holding his head. “it’s like.. you’re 106 and i’m 94.. so we both make 200” his free hand reached over to your own, holding it. you smiled at the feeling of his fingers against your own but furrowed your brows as well. “why aren’t we both 100?” you said, making him smile a bit bigger. 

“because to me, you’re more than just 100. and because of that a part of me, the 6, is with you.” he confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed now. he sighed at your expression and shook his head, his head no longer propped by his hand and sitting up straighter. “it’s corny i know” but you only smiled. you smiled because that was the sweetest thing he had ever told you, and to think that it was in a song? that was even sweeter. 

“thank you” you mumbled, now it was marks turn to furrow his brows. 

“for what babe?” he asked, head tilted slightly. you fixed your position, taking your now free hand and hold him by the back of his neck, looking in his eyes. “for saying that, it’s so sweet baby” and he smiled, feeling himself melting to your touch. his thumb rubbed against your hand, your hands still intertwined. “i love you” you said, still looking his eyes. 

mark smiled and nodded, “i love you more” he mumbled back, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. he let go of your hand to hold your waist, lips moving against yours. you pulled back, your hand on his chest now. he smiled down at you, moving some hairs away out of your face. “should we get some sleep?” he mumbled, you nodding in response. he smiled, kissing your forehead before getting up from the living room floor, holding your hand to help you up. the two of your picked up your things, setting it on the couch. 

mark placed the lid over the candle and turned to you, gesturing for you to lead the way to your shared bedroom. you smiled, hand still holding his as you walked to your bedroom, cheeks flushed and hearts full. 

taglist : @kisseudoll @hyuckworld @lqfiles @cupidhoons @ronniee-26

dream taglist

© all rights to sungbites 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost my works

[slytherinshua]

♬　US, FOR THE REST OF OUR LIFE　( 신정환 )

genre fluff , husband!shinyu x fem!reader   cw food , not proofread   wc 651   request @blue-jisungs for shinyu + burnt toast for the 3k event   note this took so long to write cries. i think i rewrote this 3 times at least and finally decided i was done and tired w it so posting it now </3   net @kstrucknet @daydreamnet

You watched Junghwan sheepishly shuffle into your bedroom from under the covers, a breakfast tray in his hand and the smell of coffee and syrup drifting your way. He seemed completely unaware that you were awake yet. The sight was endearing. He was in his baggy sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt, carefully placing the tray down on the side table and breathing a simple sigh of relief. Sometimes, on mornings like this, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that it had already been six months since your wedding.

You always dreamed of getting married when you were little, and when you first met Junghwan, you knew he would one day be your husband. But you were still young and navigating your adult life. You didn’t have things figured out, and you certainly couldn’t predict what the future would hold. The one thing you did know, though, was how much you loved Junghwan. Although it felt like yesterday when you were still sitting next to each other in your high school math class, scribbling notes on your graph paper instead of paying attention, you had come a long way the past four years.

You used to impatiently anticipate your adult life back in high school, wishing for your complicated teen years to come to an end quickly. But now that you were in the midst of it all, you could only reminisce how easy everything was back then. There was no pressure to pay the bills and no long work hours that left you exhausted mentally and physically after. Even figuring out what to eat every night had your mind dizzy at times. And you knew Junghwan worked twice as hard to make everything easier on you. 

You weren’t sure what time it was now, and you frankly didn’t care either. It was the weekend, and both of you were off work, which was a luxury you hadn’t had in weeks. It was always one of you that had an early morning shift, even if it was Saturday. But with work the last thing on your mind, the only thought in your head right now was your husband. Simply being able to call him that still made your head spin a bit. A dopey smile grew on your face at the thought and you reached out your hand to grasp Junghwan’s wrist, making his head turn to yours, finally realizing that you were awake.

“Good morning,” you said, staring at him with that lovely grin he would never get tired of seeing on your face. 

“Afternoon,” he corrected, smiling just as widely as you. His hand squeezed yours as he settled on the side of the bed. “I made us breakfast. Or is it lunch? Either way, care for some french toast?”

He grabbed the plate stacked with steaming pieces of fluffy toast, drizzled with maple syrup and berries, and you sat up, salivating at the sweet smell. 

“I burned a few pieces,” he admitted regretfully. “But I’ll eat those ones.” 

“I can barely tell they’re burnt,” you pointed out, finding his thoughtfulness endearing regardless. The first bite of warm cinnamon toast, tart berries, and sweet syrup bursted with flavour in your mouth, and you hummed in satisfaction. 

Junghwan stared at you fondly, committing everything to memory as if the moment was too precious to let it slip away from his grasp. He was always taken by your beauty, whether it was a slow weekend morning or the day of your wedding. You always looked like an angel in his eyes. Your messy hair, bare face, and baggy clothes did nothing to take away from your excited eyes at eating his food, and it warmed his heart knowing you would be there next to him for the rest of his life. You would be a team through all the highs and lows of life. That was marriage, after all. 

tws taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @talkingsaxy,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @imyuna-06,, @mjupis,, @stannwjnss,, @nonononranghaee,, @fr4ncehere,, @dohynjae,, @cupidslovearrows,, @i03jae,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @tmrwsuns

[maplerisu]

Apologies for pretending to be dead, I’m currently deep in brain rot.

[night-o]

More self indulging oc x canon because I can, and it's fun🙏

I'm slightly changing Tigerclaw's design so his stripes are darker, other than that the pattern is the same. I also didn't want to draw a background so I scribbled something on

Maple (Firepaw's aunt) joins Thunderclan sometime during the first book. She is born as a kittypet but lived as a street cat for the majority of her adult life so she knows how to fight and hunt, however her technique is poor. She always relied on her large size to overpower or intimidate her opponents and while it works on most cats, large and skilled fighters such as Tigerclaw are still able to best her. When she first joins she mainly gets taught the ways of clan life by being rotated between warriors on patrols and practice sessions.

Tigerclaw thinks she needs to be knocked down a peg after she attacked their patrol when they first met, so when he's tasked to teach her a few battle moves he wants to show Maple how a "real" warrior fights. Except she's not intimidated at all which he finds both frustrating and intriguing.

[deadhands69]

A New End: Aftermath

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

This series contains: gn/afab reader, angst, violence, mentions of blood/injuries, cussing, smut, spoilers.

previous - this is the epilogue

[series masterlist]

|\/\/\| aftermath |/\/\/|

Past a very traditional monastery, through a sea of maple trees, and up a winding dirt road is a cabin. It’s not a big cabin, nor is there anything that stands out about it to most people, but it’s been a great home to you in the time since you moved here late last spring. A lot of work went into making it livable. Surprising no one, you and Tomura were both more than okay with that. 

It’s been seven months to the day since the league’s last mission together. Since then, the two of you have been out here in the forest. Sure, you could have stayed with the PLF but you craved a change in scenery. 

Everyone did.

Now, your life is pretty simple. Conveniently, the monastery nearby’s culture is prevalent throughout the area, meaning that the people who move here don’t tend to focus much on current affairs or the media. It also helps that Tomura’s eyes have darkened slightly, making him a bit less recognizable if he’s wearing a mask. You didn’t know that was possible, but he says they were a lot darker and grey when he was a child so it’s not surprising to him that they would change again. When you mentioned that you wish you could see what he looked like as a kid, he got confused and just said to imagine him but small with darker hair and eyes. You still wish there was a picture though. 

While the two of you haven't abandoned the mission to take down hero society, you’ve taken a backseat to leading it as new faces join the fight. There’s still work to be done, there always will be. But you’re not alone in it now.

A few days a week, you walk down the hill to work part-time at a teahouse in town. Since your face was never shared on the news, it made sense for you to be the one to leave the house more. It’s a slow life, but it’s nice. Relatively predictable. You’re never waiting for something drastic to happen out of nowhere anymore. 

Today, you got off work a bit early and began your walk back home. Reaching the bottom of the hill, you check the wooden mailbox at the start of the street. There’s a postcard and one of the newspapers Tomura has delivered daily. On the front of the postcard is a photo of a beach on Miyajima island. 

After leaving the PLF, each of you were given a small amount of money as a thank you for your work and payment for the last mission. It’s allowed you to survive for a while. Twice and Compress pooled theirs, finding it easier to travel with someone else to share rooms with. They’re good travel buddies with similarities that make it work: both are extroverts. Additionally, both are also working to be more comfortable without their masks in order to blend in. From what you’ve heard, it took Twice much longer to get used to it and he still refuses to sleep without one. Currently, he’s down to only a hat and surgical mask in public which is a huge step for him. Both are able to move freely through Japan as long as they’re careful, given that only photos of their masked faces were ever shared with the public. They send postcards with little updates every once in a while.

Today’s says, “wish you were here” in nice handwriting with “losers!” scribbled on the bottom. You’ll put it up before Tomura sees the message so he doesn’t decay it like the last one. The picture looks nice.

Continuing up the dirt road, the trees turn from yellowing green to a deeper red the further up you go. Eventually, you make your turn in what feels fully like autumn. You walk past a huge mound, leftover from the last time Gigantomachia checked in. He comes by every month or so, depending on the weather. Machia still doesn’t know of All For One’s passing and you’ve all decided that’s for the best, none of you are sure how he’d react. 

By the time you reach the cabin, your shoulders hurt and you’re ready to sit down. Even if it’s been over half a year since the injury, sometimes your neck still aches – especially when the weather changes. But that, combined with your quirk, has given you the fun new ability to predict the weather.

It’ll rain later today.

You walk under the wild camellias growing over your doorway and make your way inside. Your rice cooker sings from the kitchen to your left as you slide off your shoes at the door. Tomura has just finished studying for the day. His long white hair is tied in a bun on top of his head with a few strands falling in front of his face. You hug him, leaving the newspaper by his laptop.

Publicly, he’s been using his birth name, Tenko, to attend school online. His goal is to become a game developer and make a game based on all of your experiences. Given the popularity of the league from Spinner’s book, it’s not the worst idea.

Spinner is thriving. His book came out a month ago and is selling out faster than stores can keep it on the shelf. It’s also gained attention for the ever present discrimination issues faced by people with heteromorphic quirks. His agent has received a lot of interest in book signings but for obvious reasons (warrants), he's had to decline them all. Spinner has, however, done a few online Q&As.

After buying a house and new gaming system, there wasn’t much else that he wanted. So, nearly all of the money he’s made has gone into starting an organization to combat prejudice in more rural areas. While he can’t be on the grounds in person, he has plans to hire one of the students from UA to work with him as soon as he graduates. 

He and Tomura still play together a few nights a week, both got online switch memberships to make that easier. Tomura is catching back up again now that he’s getting used to the prosthetic fingers (although, he just thinks Spinner is going easy on him.)

The front page of the newspaper has a huge photo featuring a few of the students you recognize from your last mission. You read it over his shoulder:

A new branch of UA high has opened, focusing on quirk counseling. The program aims to help those with quirks that are difficult to control or come with unexpected complications. Based on leaked evidence earlier this year, it is estimated that 57% of the cases heroes responded to in the past year could have been prevented with such a program, and the issue is only projected to grow over time–

“Toga’s working on that. It's part of her community service, sounds like she loves it,” you share, having talked to her yesterday. “She's made friends and everything.” 

Toga, still being a minor, turned herself in for a lighter sentence. She was heavily praised for “doing the right thing” by the public, but you think it had more to do with her hero girlfriend than anything else. 

“How was your day,” you ask Tomura, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you rest your cheek on the side of his head. 

“Good, mostly just school,” he mumbles, opening his laptop. “And Eri emailed.”

When she left with Aizawa, Eri’s backpack contained an envelope with email addresses to contact each of you. It also contained the location of the doctor’s lab and everything any of you knew on how to gain entry. This led to the arrest of the doctor which halted nomu production and other quirk related crimes. It also allowed them to find research that allowed for the (incomplete, but notable) reversal of nomu creation. Kurogiri was able to regain some of his previous characteristics, enough to eventually be allowed out of custody. He still asks about Tomura though.

With that information and everything that came from it, Aizawa was grateful enough to let Eri keep in touch.

Occasionally.

At a distance. 

It’s best for all of you that way. For added safety, Tomura insists you all only send her return mail through a proxy, what with the living-with-heroes and all.

She mostly talks with Spinner, still sending him photos of every good grade she gets and sharing her progress in the games they played together. It was a hard adjustment for him when she left, but being able to stay in contact and see how well she’s doing softened the blow a bit. 

Tomura turns the page. The top of the obituaries page reads, Former Number One Hero Passes Away in Tokyo Hospital.

“We should call and check on Dabi,” you say casually, looking over the article.

“And what, congratulate him? He won’t answer. He’s probably out celebrating,” Tomura replies before turning to another page.

When Endeavor sustained massive burns and was hospitalized, Dabi went to visit him. He’s not entirely sure why, mostly to vent to a captive audience he told himself. Through this, Dabi, who now goes by Touya again, his mom, and his siblings have made up. Kind of. It’s a slow and difficult process but they’ve been working through it. He moved in with his mom and sister a month ago. He and his youngest brother, have spent some time together as well - meeting every other week for soba.

As predicted, a few drops of rain patter on the rooftop. You make yourself a cup of tea and stand in front of the window to watch the clouds roll in. 

It’s beautiful in a way you never thought you could have. The skyline isn’t leveled, the trees aren’t even cut back. 

Every day you and Tomura get a little bit closer to destroying the effects of that house and everything associated with it, at least what’s left in him. It’s not easy, but it’s your life and you wouldn’t trade it for anyone else’s.

Afterall, you were promised a future and every day you're working to make it one you want.

a new end masterlist - bnha masterlist

if you read this far, thank you!!!! I've been working on this for a year and it was rewritten three times so it's crazy to finally share the end of it! thanks again if you made it here!

Taglist: @tomuratoucher @aryuunachigiri @shigarakislaughter @foxyboy0 @multifandomidk 

@dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme  @lou-the-naga-queen

@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills 

@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter

@kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820 @its-evee16  @lou-the-naga-queen

@multifandomidk @love-for-yoosung-kim @linaaeatsfamilies

[odilelajolie]

Hunted, Ch. 1

Summary:

Several years after escaping FBI custody, Cooper Adams has quietly settled in a remote Vermont town. He's a monster in remission--his violent urges lay dormant.

But when he catches sight of Alice, a traumatized 18-year-old girl, a new form of predatory darkness overtakes his demented mind. Young and achingly vulnerable, she's a lost soul as alone in the world as he is.

Alice needs the care of a proper Daddy, and as soon as she stops resisting, Cooper knows she'll accept the special kind of love he's been saving for a special little girl like her...

Ch. 1: Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

As far as Alice could tell, it would be yet another ordinary night in a long sequence of ordinary nights at the Sugar Maple Diner. 

Though it wasn’t as if she entirely minded. There was a strong part of her that actually took comfort in the familiarity of it all, the mundane routine of her small, simple world, regardless of the fact that it was rather dull most days. 

Dull meant safe—and safe was a good thing, especially for someone like her. 

Alice absently rotated her sore neck and shoulders as she made her way into the cozy, 50s-nostalgic restaurant, offering a friendly wave to the owner, Mr. Andrews, one of the only people in town who still bothered to interact with her. Not only had he given her a job when everyone else had refused to hire her, but he and his wife had even opened their home to Alice on occasion for a glass of lemonade, or tea and cookies, or a holiday meal. 

Alice rarely accepted these invitations from the elderly couple, always fearful she’d inadvertently exhaust the goodwill they generously harbored for her. But she appreciated their kindness, an increasing rarity for Alice, so she was always happy to volunteer whenever they needed help with little projects around their house to express her gratitude in return. 

Alice idled near the jukebox just beyond the hostess stand to see if Mr. Andrews would return her greeting, but he was busy behind the bar serving beer to a group of chatty truckers, and clearly didn’t have much spare time to say hello. 

Shaking off the brief, sharp pang of loneliness, the aching desire for someone—anyone—to talk to her, Alice headed straight for the break room to change into her uniform—an old fashioned pale pink dress with a white apron. She secured her hair in a high ponytail, and exactly five minutes before six p.m., she returned to the main dining room for her shift, forcing a smile on her face. 

The hours elapsed in the same, slow fashion they always did. The dinner rush—if merely five parties of no more than four people across three hours could be called that—consisted of the same group of Tuesday night regulars Alice had been waiting on for nearly a year now. Alice no longer bothered with trying to introduce herself, much less engage in small talk with her tables, for the town locals had long made it very clear ever since her return that they had no interest in speaking with her. So instead, Alice remained small and silent as she scribbled orders on her notepad, taking up as little space as possible as she refilled drinks, cleaned up spills, and delivered steaming plates of comfort food from the kitchen.

And she did all of this with her head perpetually lowered, so that no one would have to suffer the unnecessary discomfort of looking at her. 

By ten o’clock, the restaurant was deserted, and the only other employee remaining was Ted, the largely wordless cook who kept to himself even more strictly than Alice did. Alice generally took her own meal break around this time when it was just the two of them twiddling their thumbs until closing, silence broken only by the rockabilly and Doo-wop melodies sung by the jukebox. But before she could write down her request for a cup of soup and a half-sandwich, losing herself for a few moments to the croons of Elvis Presley—wring my faithful heart; tear it all apart; but love me—the door chime cheerfully rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. 

Alice gulped at the intimidating sight of the new arrival, and he was definitely new—she surely would have noticed him around the tiny town before now if he were a local. He was almost as broad as he was tall—and he was frighteningly tall—with the build of an elite athlete, like a champion MMA fighter, his long limbs hard and big and savage. The charcoal sweater and dark jeans he wore actually seemed to struggle to keep his toned muscles contained. 

He had thick, silky hair the color of dark roast coffee, and a closely-shorn mustache and short, angular beard. He was a very handsome man, perhaps in his early-to-mid forties, but when Alice finally met his eyes, she was instantly rendered breathless by a powerful, inexplicable sense of sheer terror that seemed to seize her by the throat, and choke her. 

Shadowed by a prominent brow bone, his inky, hooded eyes were disturbingly dark. Chilling. They reminded Alice of the eyes of a shark. Fathomless. Cold. 

Predatory. 

“Hey there…can I get a table?” 

Unlike his frightening eyes, the velvety timber of the man’s deep voice actually inspired an equally strong sense of comfort—relief—causing the paranoid internal alarms within her body to faintly recede. 

Alice was rendered profoundly unbalanced, nearly on the verge of collapsing to the floor from the whiplash of such opposing instincts.

Perplexed by her body’s strange reactions to the stranger, Alice quickly nodded and dutifully lowered her head. She reached for a menu and silently beckoned the man to follow her, her shoulders arched nearly all the way to her ears as she timidly guided him to her favorite booth by the windows with the prettiest view of the forest.

He followed her with slow, heavy foot falls, and Alice nearly caved in on herself when she was directly confronted with just how much bigger he was up close as he slid into the booth with athletic, equanimous movements. 

Even sitting down, he was huge. 

Alice placed the menu on the table once he appeared settled, and reached into her apron pocket for her notepad and pen, waiting expectantly for him to provide his drink order, as all other customers automatically did upon sitting. 

But when he didn’t speak after several moments, Alice shyly raised her head, and was surprised to find the man gently smiling at her. 

He looked even more handsome when he smiled—

“There you are,” he said warmly, his voice triggering a sudden influx of delightful tingles throughout her weary muscles. “How are you doing tonight?”

Too stunned to speak, Alice felt hot blush rising to her cheeks in embarrassment. 

How long had it been since someone had asked her how she was? 

Seemingly sensing her unease, the man continued, “Sorry—you probably don’t want to talk with an old man like me,” he said ruefully, and Alice was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. This handsome stranger was being more sociable with her than anyone had in months, and she was messing everything up. “Would it be possible to order—”

“I’m A-Alice,” she interrupted shakily—awkwardly—cheeks boiling at the mousy sound of her own voice. 

To her relief, the man’s smile only widened, and there was a flicker of playfulness in his eyes, somewhat tempering the otherwise unnerving quality in his dark gaze. 

“That’s a very pretty name,” he replied. “I’m Cooper.”

Cooper. Alice repeated the name in her head. It sounded strong and masculine.

She quite liked it. 

“Put us together and we’re rock stars,” he added. Alice frowned in confusion. “I…I don’t follow—”

“Alice Cooper?” Alice shook her head, and Cooper released a slow sigh. “Ahh…don’t mind me—I’m betraying my age here. He’s before your time.”

“Oh. Okay.” Alice swallowed hard. “Umm…w-welcome to the S-Sugar Maple Diner,” she offered, remembering she needed to do her job. It had been so long since she’d been required to introduce herself to a customer that Alice was quickly finding she was woefully out of practice with the basics. “M-may I get you something to drink, sir?” 

“Well I was taking a look at what you have on tap, but I notice you don’t have a bartender right now,” Cooper mentioned. “And I suspect you’re not quite old enough to legally go behind the bar.”

“Yeah…the bar closes at nine on weekdays. Mr. Andrews—he’s the owner—he already left for the night, and he usually handles that stuff.” Embarrassed, Alice tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Call me Cooper.”

“I’m sorry, Cooper.”

“So, how old are you?”

“Eighteen—but I’ll be nineteen next month.”

She wasn’t sure why she shared that detail. It certainly wasn’t as if her upcoming birthday made her seem any less young and pathetic. 

“Ahh…definitely too young to pour alcohol.” Cooper softly chuckled, his deep-chested rumble pleasantly tickling her ears. “In that case, how about a nice cold glass of Coke?”

“Would you prefer a frosted glass or ice?”

“Ice, please.”

Alice wrote down the order with a nod. “Coke with ice, coming right up.”

She began to turn on her toes to prepare his soda, but then he spoke again.

“So what do you recommend here?” Cooper asked. 

“Recommend?” Alice repeated slowly. “You mean…to eat?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Alice realized what a stupid response it truly was.

The townsfolk’s collective avoidance of her was clearly not entirely to blame for her poor conversation skills. 

Of course he was asking her what to eat. She was a waitress. It was her job.

Mercifully, Cooper didn’t poke fun at her idiocy. “Yeah, what’s your favorite thing on the menu?” he asked. “If you were to join me for a meal, what would you order?”

Alice squeaked, “You want me to join you?” 

Cooper’s eyes widened, and he appeared even more shocked than she was. “Well, I was speaking hypothetically, but…sure! Why not. Care to join me?”

Alice thought she might actually pass out from embarrassment. 

Not only had she forgotten how to have a normal conversation, but she’d forgotten all about basic social cues. Sarcasm. Hypotheticals. 

Cooper was being friendly. Nothing more. He didn’t actually want to spend time with her—he just had good manners. 

“Umm…I’m really not supposed to…” Alice trailed off, nervously biting her lip. 

Unperturbed, Cooper shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Perhaps some other time then.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice and added in a conspiratorial murmur, “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my account.” 

There was an undeniably patronizing quality to his warm baritone, but it wasn’t condescending in a negative way. The lilting way Cooper spoke was gentle, daresay caring, the low pitch of his manly deepness perfectly matched with a bright, uplifting enthusiasm.

Cooper spoke to her the way Alice remembered her own father used to speak to her—as if no one else in the world existed. As if she were important.

As if every word she spoke were the most brilliant thing ever to be uttered in history of the world, and he couldn’t get enough. 

Cooper had a…Dad voice, the kind of voice that felt like a warm, clean blanket fresh out of the dryer. 

He had a voice of absolute safety—a voice that made her feel brave. 

Like she could do anything. 

“I recommend the deluxe cheeseburger with fries,” Alice said, unable to contain her giddy smile. “Ted makes the best in town.”

Cooper kept a careful gaze on Alice through his peripherals as he chewed and swallowed the mediocre cheeseburger, though he made sure to provide plenty of appreciative grunts and moans throughout his labored consumption for the girl’s benefit. 

He’d been patiently watching her for nearly a year now. It wouldn’t do well to worry the skittish thing when he was so close to finally making her his, for little Alice was a painfully insecure, highly sensitive girl. She was pitifully naïve and defenseless, lonely and desperate for affection.

She was perfect—and finally ripe for his taking. 

When he’d originally made the decision to settle down in the middle of fucking nowhere, Vermont after several years on the run, he’d simply planned on living quietly for whatever remained of his existence. The monster within lay dormant—at least for now—the compulsion to destroy and dissect no longer eroding what little remained of his sanity. The urge had been a sickness, a magmatic fever, burning so hot in his veins it was boiling him alive. Cooper knew quite well it would have killed him eventually. 

But now, his insides were…cooler, warm instead of blisteringly hot, and the dark, animalistic impulses currently thrumming through his body were far less bloodthirsty in nature compared to his prior proclivities. 

Perhaps he was in remission. 

He’d spent more than forty years keeping the two opposing halves of his psyche strictly separate, diligently compartmentalizing every aspect of his life down to the most minute detail, but when he’d caught sight of this tiny angel of a girl almost ten months ago—so sweet and innocent and frightened and alone—Cooper was leveled, and struck with an epiphanic clarity.

Perhaps the separatist approach to mitigating his dangerous urges no longer served him. 

Perhaps the only way for him to survive was by reconciling his infernal hungers, once and for all. 

When Cooper had escaped FBI custody—doubling his body count in the process—he’d been forced to accept that the closest thing to real human connection he’d ever been able access, his family, was lost to him forever. He missed being a husband. He missed being a father. 

But when he saw Alice, he realized he could still be both.

She was as alone in the world as he was, an isolated little girl shunned by nearly everyone around her. At merely eighteen, she was young and exceedingly vulnerable, in dire need of a loving authority figure to guide her and keep her safe. 

And yet, she was also a woman. Barely legal, but a woman nonetheless, and a mouthwatering one at that. Alice was a tiny thing, shorter even than Riley was when he last saw her, her petite body a tight little package of soft, untouched femininity he was growing more and more ravenous to taste.  

Cooper had always been partial to blondes, and his little Alice was a natural platinum. A “baby” blonde. 

Sweet little baby blonde with her pretty baby blue eyes—

With her milky skin and delicate features—not to mention those pouty pink lips just begging to have something hard shoved between them—Alice could look like a porcelain doll one moment, and a sex kitten the next. She was an undeniably gorgeous girl, not yet aware of her erotic allure, and under different circumstances, he knew she could have had any man on his knees begging to fuck her.

Fortunately for him, the entire town thought she was batshit crazy.

And Cooper was certainly not one to be put off by a little madness—

“How’s your dinner?” Alice asked sweetly from a few tables away. She’d been refilling ketchup bottles and rolling silverware for the last twenty minutes or so, responding beautifully—albeit awkwardly—to his subtle prompts for casual conversation.

Cooper wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and made an exaggerated show of patting his stomach. “You were right—this is the best burger I’ve ever had,” he lied smoothly. “Excellent recommendation, sweetheart.”

The girl’s cheeks instantly flooded with pretty pink blush—she likes being called sweetheart—and she shyly lowered her head, but couldn’t resist looking back at him mere seconds later with a demure giggle.   

Good girl. She found him attractive. 

His depraved plans would be much easier for her to adapt to with her sexual attraction already engaged—

“Can I get you anything else, Cooper?” Alice asked. She sounded hopeful. 

His left eye twitched at her use of his first name, one of the few…ticks beyond his control, as a small spark of violent rage kindled deep in his gut, leaving a sickly metallic taste in his mouth. 

The urge. 

Cooper was suddenly overcome with a vision—a lucid hallucination, really—of marching directly to where the girl stood, and shoving her to the floor so quickly the air would be knocked out of her lungs. He saw himself tearing off her clothes and wrapping his big hands around narrow torso, and squeezing, hard enough to crack her ribs, before mounting her like a beast in the wild, ready to take his quivering bitch in heat. He wanted to feel her small, supple body struggling beneath him, his scared, mewling kitten desperate to free herself by any means necessary.

He wanted her to scream. He wanted her to cry.

She was so fucking tiny he’d absolutely crush her with his size. Cooper was already far bigger than most people, but compared to his little girl, his sweet little nymph, he was indestructible, as vast and powerful as a god. 

He could do anything he wanted to her. He could violate her beyond recognition.

He could fuck her within an inch of her life—

Realizing he’d zoned out far longer than intended, he released a sharp exhale to snuff out the ember of fury, reminding himself that it was perfectly okay that the girl was calling him Cooper—for now. 

She’d be calling him Daddy soon enough. 

He forced himself to smile, carefully schooling his features to the affable façade he used specifically for putting people at ease. 

Like clockwork, the girl visibly relaxed. 

“Just the check please, sweetheart.”

Hunted Ch. 2: Dream A Little Dream Of Me

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58229851/chapters/148279471

[ticklish-n-stuff]

Tickletober day #5: Boo!

This is a sequel to my first ever Kazuha fic 'cause I'm mentally ill for Kazuha, if you couldn't tell

Don't be surprised if most of my genshin fics end up being about Kazuha

Look at me go, 2 fics in one day

Enjoy<3

Also on ao3

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Beidou x Kazuha (platonic)

Lee: Kazuha

Ler: Beidou

Warnings: Tickles

______________________________________________________________

What better time to strike some sweet revenge than spooky month? 

Beidou surely hasn’t forgotten about Kazuha’s prank during his so-called massage. She had been plotting her move for a while. As everyone knew, the samurai was very perceptive and catching him off guard is no easy task. Though, if Beidou was anything, it was stubborn. But most importantly, she tackled each task head on, much like now, literally. 

“Boo!” she yelled out like a war cry as she swept Kazuha off his feet, carrying him bridal style, much to the samurai’s embarrassment.

“Captain? What are you doing?” 

She could tell that Kazuha had gotten flustered from that, but was still hiding it well behind his polite tone, that wouldn’t do. 

“Teaching you what happens when you mess with this ol’ captain~” with that, she threw the boy over her shoulder. Chuckling in amusement when she heard a startled yelp. She carried him like a sack of potatoes over to her quarters, ungraciously dropping him into a pile of pillows. 

A small ‘oof’ could be heard when Kazuha fell on the ground. His face slowly grew red like maple leaves after being carried like that with such ease. Beidou truly was something. “Captain, let’s talk about thihiHISSS!” a squeal emitted from the samurai’s mouth when Beidou pounced on him, her fingers getting to work swiftly as they made contact with the anemo user’s sides. Scribbling softly over the clothed skin. 

The captain let out a low whistle, amazed by how easily the usually calm samurai could crumble from a few wiggly fingers. “My, my, who knew that the ever strong Kazuha was as ticklish as a little boy~”

“Ahahah! Beidou, plehehease!” a whine came out of the white haired male. His brain felt so scrambled up in ticklishness that he didn’t know whether to cover his face or try pushing at Beidou’s hands, resulting in an adorably funny Kazuha flailing his limbs all over the place. 

“Please what? Please keep going? Gladly~ I’m having the time of my life watching you lose all that composure” Beidou has her usual grin on her face, or at least that’s what most would say. There was a softer, endeared look, one that the samurai would’ve noticed if he wasn’t so busy laughing his pretty little head off. 

His breathy bouts of laughter grew more frantic and squeaky when he felt Beidou’s fingers lightly pressing between each rib. Each jab made him want to jump out of his skin. “You know that’s nohohot what I meheheant! Ack! Beidohohou!” Kazuha’s hands finally settled onto weakly gripping Beidou’s wrists, practically putting no effort into getting her to stop. If he could talk, he’d probably brush it off as him having lost his strength from laughing so much, but I doubt that explanation could’ve even fooled himself. 

“No? But you sure seem like you’re enjoying yourself. Just look at you! All smiles and giggles, without actually trying to stop me~” her fingers managed to reach the soft spot under his arms, watching Kazuha double down into another fit of laughter. 

The samurai could feel his head grow all fuzzy. The teasing on top of the tickling was doing a number on him. The embarrassment of the captain having figured him out so easily made him feel even more vulnerable. All he could really do now was allow himself to take it, leaning his head back as those joyful titters fell out of his mouth like cascades. 

“See? Much better when you let yourself enjoy it” yeah this was supposed to be a sort of punishment as revenge, but getting to hear Kazuha’s unfiltered laugh for once was way better. At most, all she had heard from the samurai were the usual polite chuckles. Seeing that persona slip out felt more rewarding than any treasure. 

Her fingers eventually stopped tormenting the samurai’s underarms. Instead opting to slip under his garments to reach his bare middle. She let out a chuckle when Kazuha flinched over the cold fingers touching his warm skin. 

“Eheheheh! C-Captain, not thehehere…!” Kazuha would arch his back before falling flat again, the feeling of the captain’s fingers softly tracing around his sensitive stomach really drove him up the wall. 

“Pshh, stop denying it already. You ain’t fooling me.” Beidou smirked when Kazuha squealed, a whine getting mixed into it when her index finger slipped into his navel, causing him to giggle up a storm. 

“Nohohoho! I cahahan’t! Plehehehease!!” Kazuha pleaded desperately, but the joy in his tone was unmistaken. He was just that ticklish.

“It’s like a giggle spot… or a giggle button! Just have to press here and you giggle like a madman!~” she kept playfully poking and prodding at the small indent until Kazuha started to hiccup through his giggles. Absolutely adorable! Could make a grown man squeal from cuteness. 

With that, Beidou finally relented on the ticklish torment, letting out a hearty laugh when Kazuha desperately gasped for breath between his hiccups. “You okay there, kid?”

Kazuha responded with a shaky thumbs up, too embarrassed out of his mind over what just happened, and his unstopping hiccups. He really was turned into a mess of a person. Definitely going to keep this in mind next time he decides to mess with Beidou. 

“Good~” the electro user playfully ruffled his hair, her smile turning more fond as Kazuha’s hiccups slowly subsided, leaving behind a blinding smile from laughing so much. It was very different from the usual smiles he gave, which were normally more reserved and small, but this one could put a diamond to shame from how valuable it was. “Not gonna lie, you can be pretty adorable~” she teased, chuckling when the samurai let out a flustered groan.

Looks like there’d be only tricks during this spooky month, not that Kazuha minded.

______________________________________________________________

[idiotscribbles]

messed around in wiggly paint a bit :]

[spitefulsatanfics]

═ ° \ * 𝑺𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝑺𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒔 * / ° ═

"So get this… something weird's going on in Black Water Ridge."

═════

Pairing: Sam Winchester x She/Her Reader

Tone: Fluffy romance, sweet intimacy, hunter x hunter, Young!Sam, Cuddly!Sam, Nerdy!Y/N

Rating: T (Canon-typical Supernatural discussion, light intimacy, cuddling, implied intimacy)

Written by: Little Devil ♡

Word Count: ~6,600 words

Based on: Supernatural Seasons 1–2, Non-specific episode

═════

Synopsis: The case was nothing flashy—just some strange disappearances in an Oregon forest town—but it was enough to pull the trio into another dusty library, another empty diner, another late night poring over old records. For Y/N, it's just another day in the life of a hunter. For Sam, it's the first time someone’s been this close since Jessica. And it's terrifying. But when late-night investigation turns into stolen glances and nerdy jokes, he starts to realize: maybe this new chapter doesn’t have to mean forgetting the last. Especially when Y/N starts quoting him back to himself.

═════

Scene One: Small Town Shadows

The town was called Maple Hollow. Population: barely a thousand. Enough to have a single diner, a run-down library, and—most importantly—a suspicious uptick in missing persons and two campers gone off the grid.

The Impala rumbled to a stop outside the local sheriff's station, its engine groaning like it too was tired of the chase. Dean threw it into park, stretched like a cat, and glanced back at Sam and Y/N.

“Alright, Sammy, Y/N, you two charm the local law. I’ll hit up the morgue, see if anyone’s got claw marks and a half-eaten spleen.”

“Charming,” Y/N said dryly, hopping out. The air was pine-sweet and damp. Fall pressed in close here—everything smelled of leaves, wet bark, and chimney smoke.

Inside, Sam worked his soft smile like a scalpel, clean and precise. Y/N trailed him, flipping her FBI badge with a casual air. The sheriff, mid-40s and shaped like a fire hydrant, barely looked up from his paperwork.

"Can I help you?" he asked, voice heavy with disinterest.

“We’re investigating the recent disappearances," Sam said, glancing at the file on the sheriff's desk. "Two campers went missing around Black Water Ridge, right?"

The sheriff leaned back in his chair, sighing. “Yeah. It’s a damn mess, but I can’t make sense of it. People around here... they like to talk. All kinds of stories float around, but there’s nothing concrete. Just missing persons and a few odd reports from hikers.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What kind of reports?”

“People claim they heard strange noises, saw weird shapes in the trees, but no one’s found anything that makes sense. Not yet, anyway. We’re still looking into it.”

“Any clues on where they were last seen?” Sam asked, flipping through the sheriff’s file.

“Black Water Ridge. That’s where the last two disappeared,” the sheriff muttered. “Not the first time people have gone off the grid around there, but this one’s a little different.”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Sam, both of them trying to read between the lines.

“We’ll keep an ear to the ground,” Sam said, offering the sheriff a polite smile before they made their way out the door.

Scene Two: Lore and Lightning Bugs

That night, they holed up in a dusty motor lodge with carpet that crunched underfoot and a TV older than God. Dean was snoring by ten, boots on, mouth open. Sam and Y/N had taken the table by the window, lore books and local legends strewn across it like a storm blew through a library.

Sam leaned over a worn book of regional myths, his long fingers tapping idly. Y/N had a notebook open, scribbling notes in between sips of lukewarm coffee.

“Alright,” she said suddenly, snapping the silence. “So, get this—”

Sam looked up, blinking.

Dean, half-asleep on the bed, cracked one eye open and barked a laugh. “Careful, Sammy, she’s stealin’ your catchphrase.”

Y/N paused, then smirked. “What? It’s efficient.”

Sam flushed a little, ears pink. He smiled down at his book, the corners of his mouth tugging in that quiet way of his. Something warm bloomed in his chest.

She was picking up his habits. Quoting him back like muscle memory. The thought was absurdly endearing.

“You were saying?” he asked, voice softer than necessary.

Y/N glanced back down at her notes. “So, I think we’re looking at a Leshy. A Slavic forest guardian. Mischievous, territorial, and… pretty damn possessive of its woods.”

“That would explain the missing people. And the strange reports. People are drawn into the woods when they’re overhunted. The Leshy tends to keep to itself, but it doesn’t like being disturbed.”

Sam leaned closer to see her notes, and their shoulders brushed. She didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

Scene Three: Sparks and Salt Circles

They found the Leshy's lair just past a crumbling ranger outpost, vines overtaking the trail and claw marks scratched into tree bark like warnings. The air was colder here—charged, like lightning about to strike.

Dean laid salt and iron traps with practiced efficiency, circling the clearing’s edge. Sam and Y/N prepped the charges—aconite-laced silver blades, smudged with old Latin rites.

When the Leshy appeared, it wasn’t gradual. It dropped from the canopy with a sound like cracking wood, its massive limbs sheathed in bark and moss. Its eyes glowed like hot coals.

“Move!” Sam shouted, as it lunged.

Dean rolled forward and slashed upward, his blade barely nicking the creature’s thigh. It screeched—high, dry, furious. Y/N ducked behind a fallen log, breath short, and flung one of the silver blades. It embedded in its chest—only to be yanked out with a roar.

Sam got in close, drawing its attention, while Dean looped behind. Y/N used the distraction to scrawl a quick banishment sigil onto a stone. The creature knocked Sam back into a tree—but he recovered fast, grabbing another blade, this time slicing clean across its arm. Sap bled like venom.

Dean delivered the final blow: a two-handed thrust to the creature’s sternum, right where Y/N had aimed before. The Leshy staggered, convulsed, and crumbled into dust and bark.

They stood panting in the sudden silence, the scent of crushed pine needles heavy in the air.

Scene Four: Tangled Hearts

Back at the motel, Dean muttered something about celebratory pie and promptly fell asleep in the second bed, boots still on. Sam was quiet, sitting at the edge of his own bed, running a thumb over a scratch on his arm.

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, her shoulder wrapped, her hair still damp. She climbed onto the bed beside him, slow and easy.

“You good?” she asked.

He nodded. Then shook his head. “I just—sometimes I think about how easy it would be to lose someone again.”

Y/N didn’t flinch. She reached out, rested a hand over his.

“You’re not losing me. Not without a hell of a fight.”

He looked at her then, really looked. Like the weight of that truth was still settling into his bones.

She smiled. “Also, if I start saying ‘friggin’ all the time, call me out.”

He laughed. A real one. “Deal.”

They slipped under the covers, limbs tentative but warm. Sam's arm found its way around her waist, and she tucked her head beneath his chin. They didn’t say anything else.

Just the hush of night, the thrum of distant cars, and the way Sam held her like he finally believed the world might let him keep something good.

═════

═ ° * 𝑺𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝑺𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒔 */ ° ═