#considering the only reason why he remembers him in the first place was bc hes wearing the same clothes

[mx-paint]

Some of y'all are weak. Y'all don't need a reason to say your fav fictional character did nothing wrong you just have to say they're your little meow meow and everything falls into place.

[heeliopheelia]

"do you regret last night?" (heeseung x reader)

genre: smut, light angst word count: 1k requested by nonnie ♡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of cheating, pet names

a/n: okay guys i actually love how this one turned out!! i thought the last hee smut drabble was my favorite but i think i like this one even more!! ALSO the grammar mistakes are probably horrifying in here bcs i still struggle with past tenses and that's the reason why i dropped writing in them a long time ago 💜 so when it comes to past tenses – i kinda use them how i feel like it rather than using some actual knowledge... does that even make sense... PLEASE BEAR WITH ME, I SWEAR I'M NOT DUMB

masterlist

"F-Fuck, Heeseung, yeah- Just like that."

All it took for Heeseung was to see you standing at his door, soaked thoroughly with rain and eyes puffy red. It was all he needed to instantly know that his best friend – and simultaneously your boyfriend, has finally fumbled and fucked up your relationship once again.

He let you in without any questions, holding the door open for you as you toed off your wet shoes and walked inside with head shamefully hung down. After bringing you a towel for you to dry yourself a little bit, the explanation of your sudden appearance flew out of your lips in a wobbly mutter as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks.

Biting on his lip harshly, Heeseung considered each and every assassination attempt plan on his best friend who's decided to cheat on you again after you so generously gave him a second chance two months ago.

He remembers your first heartbreak like it was yesterday, easily recalling the disbelief painting all over your face as you watched your boyfriend walking out of the bathroom with some wasted chick following him like a lost puppy. And all of it happened on Heeseung's birthday party too. All he could do back then was to watch the girl of his dreams run out of his door, heart broken and left on the floor only to be stomped on by dozens of feet.

So this time, he decided he's not going to be as helpless as he was then.

Somewhere in between sobbing and laughing at Heeseung's poor attempts of joking to make you feel better, you've found yourself straddling his hips and assaulting his lips with yours vigorously. Then you circled your hips over his, hands slipped underneath his shirt just to rip it off of him eagerly; all of it only to end up sprawled out below Heeseung on his bed sheets, head thrown back as your voice gets choked up again.

"Yeah? God, I'm gonna fuck you so good, baby," he breathes out heavily, lifting your hips even higher to pound into you harder, making you feel every inch of him hitting so deep inside of you. "'m not gonna stop until the only thing you're able to say is my name. Promised to make you forget about him after all."

He did. And you nodded eagerly at his offer, letting him kiss the tears away from your face couple minutes ago. Too swallowed up with hurt and lust to even process the urgency behind his words. Too swallowed up with hurt and lust to notice the lovesick gaze in his eyes as he looked down at your flushed face.

Your fingers tremble as they tightly wrap around his wrists that are placed on each side of your head, and you whine pitifully as he bullies his tip in and out of your soaked folds. Heeseung flinches slightly when he feels a cool metal brush over his skin and he looks down to notice a promise ring resting around your pretty finger – the same one he helped your boyfriend pick after the two of you had gotten back together.

Before the anger has the chance to boil the blood in his veins again, he swipes his gaze to your fucked out face again, scoffing with amusement. Never stopping his thrusts, he gently grabs your hand and lifts it up to his lips, his mouth engulfing your entire finger only for his teeth to grasp on the silver band and pull it off of it. You watch, almost mesmerized, as he turns his head to the side and spits the ring on the floor to get lost somewhere in between the rest of your discarded clothes.

"You're not gonna need it anymore," he says, a smirk crawling up on his pink lips. "You deserve so much better, baby. You know it too, don't you?"

You nod your dizzy head, hands desperately reaching out to grab at him and feel his toned body underneath your fingertips again. With a firm grip on your hips, Heeseung pounds into you ruthlessly as the sound of skin smacking fills up the room entirely along with your moans and whimpers.

He reaches one of his hands down to rub on your swollen clit as he feels you getting closer to your finish. The sudden touch makes your body jerk in his arms and white paints your vision soon after, and just like he promised, all that you manage to do is repeat his name over and over again.

"S' fucking good, Heeseung," you whine out, head rolling back into the pillows and back arching sharply when his hips speed up. "Don't stop!"

He presses you back down to the mattress and hooks one of your legs over his middle, burying himself even deeper into your clenching pussy than before and nearly instantly bringing out an orgasm out of you. Your jaw slacks as your body squirms slightly underneath his larger frame, hands loosening their grip on him and falling limp on the sheets as you're overwhelmed with the warm bliss.

You're barely in your right mind when you hear his low groan and seconds later his hot release is thickly spilling on the soft surface of your stomach. Your heavy eyes watch as Heeseung reaches to his nightstand and pulls out a couple of tissues to wipe you clean. With his soft stay, please and your tired thank you, you fall asleep with your face buried in the crook of his neck.

The anxiety that's been slowly building up inside of you doesn't let you rest for too long though. You barely open your eyes, clock striking 7 am, and the hesitant thoughts and worries flood your mind.

It didn't mean anything to him. He was just trying to help you out. You get attached to people way too easily, silly girl. You should probably get out of here before he wakes up and things become unbearably awkward. Fuck, why is your heart feeling so heavy all of a sudden?

So you leave his apartment quietly, fixing your disheveled self as you walk to the nearest coffee shop you can find. And just as you collect your order from the counter, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket.

The large smile can't be kept from spreading on your lips as you eye Heeseung's message with butterflies tickling your stomach from the inside.

do you regret last night?

And the answer is as clear as a day in your mind, so with eager fingers you type out a a reply.

are you crazy? never.

we should do it again soon <3

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi

[wonwoonlight]

when jeonghan realizes he's in love with you

friends to lovers (??), fluff, i'm not sure there's even a plot lol. just got this sudden, random urge to write bc i was listening to dream (kor ver) earlier. not sure the wc bc i wrote it on tumblr but it's Short 🤍 not proofread. enjoy!

Jeonghan has always claimed he doesn't think he can date a friend.

It's weird.

And he's pretty emotional (romantic?) of a person, so if there's no spark from the beginning, it's likely that his brain has categorized that person as a friend and nothing else. No chance whatsoever that he'd develop romantic feelings in the future.

Though he's also realistic, so he admits that there might be a 0.1% possibility that he might suddenly like a friend romantically. Who knows, right?

But not you.

Not because he thinks you're lacking, but because you've been friends for too long that Jeonghan was sure that if, and only if, there was a possibility that he'd fall for you, it probably had long passed.

He's seen almost every side of you, so have you his. Hell, he's pretty sure he even treats you almost the same way he treats Seungcheol and Joshua; surely, there's no way, right?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you glare, annoyed.

Jeonghan blinks owlishly; has he been staring at you? His eyes dart to your eyes and then down to your lips for half a second before he searches for your face, both intrigued and curious.

He doesn't register whatever's coming out of your lips, but is it just him or do you actually look flustered the more he stares at you?

"Jeonghan. Stop it."

"Why?"

"The right question is why are you staring at me!" You reaches out to turn his face elsewhere, your palm centimeters away from his cheek when he catches your wrist, his eyes still refusing to look at anything but you.

He sees you pout, and his mind suddenly thinks back about a talk he has with Seungcheol a few years ago, when his friend asked if he'd ever consider dating you because he thought you'd make a good pair.

You had pouted in disgust, told Seungcheol that it's gross to paint that kind of image between you and Jeonghan when you're clearly nothing but friends.

He didn't take that too personally, he remembers, he had simply laughed and agreed. But he also remembers glancing at your lips then, wondering how they'd feel against his, quickly removing the thoughts out of his mind because you're not supposed to think about friends that way.

"Will you be mad if I kiss you?"

Your eyes widen comically, and he would've teased you if he's in his usual mood. But he's not. And he wants to find out if there's a reason behind why he's been adamant about seeing your smile and wanting to stay close to you as much as possible.

"What? Are you drunk?"

"Will you?"

You pause for a second, your eyes searching for him, biting your lower lip before you shake your head no.

His thumb reaches for your lip so you'll release it from your teeth before he places his lips upon yours, his heartbeat ringing in his ears and the tips of his ears burning red.

The kiss (peck?) lasts for a short three seconds (or was it 3 minutes? He doesn't know, he can't think straight with you in this proximity). And when he pulls away, your breath warm against his face, he presses his lips together as if to see whether he can still feel you there or not.

"If you're making all that fuss just to kiss me." You whisper, avoiding his eyes despite the usual teasing tone Jeonghan's used to hear from you. "At least kiss me properly, will you?"

Jeonghan grins. If this is what being in love with your friend is like, perhaps it's not as bad as he thought it would be.

For the first time, he doesn't mind at all being wrong as long as he gets to be with you.

[bedsyandco]

𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓

✰ PAIRING — fem!reader x quinn hughes

✰ SUMMARY — in which Quinn returns home to Michigan for christmas and runs into his old girlfriend! this takes place christmas ‘23!!

✰ CONTENT — nothing I can think of? potential spelling mistakes bc no matter how much I check I still find them days later

✰ WC — 2.54K

✰ NOTE — inspired by phoebe bridgers’ scott street!! as always I love writing Quinny and I hope you enjoy it!! I don’t like this but … here we are. please do tell me what you thought about it…I’m always curious what you guys think!!

Michagan has always been special. No matter where life took you, returning to Michigan and visiting the city you grew up in, always felt like coming home. Even three years after graduating from university and moving away, nothing compared to the feeling of driving the streets where you had your first fall and scraped your knee open, the streets where you learned to drive for the first time, the park where you had your first kiss. Michigan will always be special and it will always be home but coming back always leaves you with the biggest ache in your chest.

There’s a reason you haven’t been back to Ann Arbor since you graduated. This place held too many memories. Too many “what ifs” or “what could’ve beens” It was like one big memory box, every corner you turned reminded you of something, someone. And while usually you weren’t opposed to taking a stroll down memory lane and being reminiscent about past years, somehow it always led to one year, one summer, one moment, one person. Quinn Hughes.

You met him your freshman year at Michigan, both of you in the same class. You were late to class the first day, uncharacteristic of you and a result of a missed alarm that morning, and you got stuck sitting in the only open seat left, the one next to Quinn. You’re sure it would have been sat in earlier if it wasn’t for the bag he put on it. You still get the urge to laugh when you remember the expression on his face when you approached that very seat. As if he was actually considering having you sit on the floor just so he didn’t have to share his space. Knowing everything you do now, you had no doubt that he had a mental image of Ellen scolding him for his bad manners and that’s the only reason he scrambled to accommodate you.

Somehow as luck would have it you were partnered up for a big project and spent a lot of time together. And Quinn Hughes went from a reluctant seat partner to your closest friend, to the man who you were hopelessly in love with and was lucky enough to call your own. The next two years you had been glued to his side and wherever he went, everyone knew you weren’t far behind.

Perhaps that’s why everyone had a shock when you didn’t follow him to Vancouver when he left after two years. You had many nights that summer where you had debated it, the decision to move to a new country for a guy you had been dating for less than two years. The fact that you even considered it at all should have already been an indication of how much you loved him. But when he did eventually ask if you’d do it, you knew that you couldn’t and turned him down. You had dreams and goals and plans of your own and none of those consisted of moving to Vancouver.

The idea of moving to a new country, in the middle of your degree, where you didn’t know anything or anyone didn’t particularly sound like a joyful experience, no matter how much you loved Quinn. But you also didn’t expect the two years after Quinn left to be as hard as they were. Somehow you had gotten so wrapped up in your relationship that every aspect of your life revolved around him. Where you hung out, who you were friends with, what routes you drive to school. You felt alone when he left, you felt isolated, you felt misunderstood. Because the only way you fit into that life you had built for yourself was if Quinn was next to you, and he wasn’t anymore.

Quinn made it big and moved on to bigger and better things and you were just the girl he left behind that was stupid enough to turn him down when he begged you to go with him. And so the last two years of what was supposed to be the best years of your life turned into one big pity party thrown by everyone you met. People who once envied you for getting to be with him, now pitied you for losing out on him.

You’d only been with him two years and yet he destroyed the memories of the place you called home for the 18 years prior to that. And it wasn’t those last two years and the pitying looks that ruined Michigan for you, it was the fact that they were right. The fact that you still thought about him and those two years you got to have him. The fact that you’ve compared every guy you’ve met and been with to him and none of them have ever measured up. The fact that staying in Michigan only resulted in awkward social situations, a piece of paper stating your degree that you could’ve gotten at any institute, and regrets. Lots of regrets. The fact that every time you come to Michigan, it’s all that you can think about. It haunts you.

And because you like to torture yourself, this year on your annual visit home, you somehow ended up at his favourite cafe. You had spent more time here than anywhere else when you were dating. It was the place you had your first study session, your first date, your first “I love you”, and also your last goodbye.

As fate would have it your first time seeing him since you guys broke up would also be at this café, because as you entered the relatively empty room, it’s as if your whole body could sense him, your eyes shooting to where he was sitting in the corner of the room, a coffee and a bagel in front of him, folding the napkin in front of him as many times as he could until is was small enough to push in between the salt and pepper that was on the table.

You always wondered what it would be like to see him again. What your response would be to those fight, flight or freeze instincts. You briefly considered it…fleeing. But as soon as you laid your eyes on him, you couldn’t do anything but stare. Observe. Admire. You always knew Quinn was going to be handsome once he matured a little bit. Got out of the teen-early adult phase. And while you had seen him on social media occasionally, seeing him over a screen didn’t do him any justice. Nor did it have the same effect on you it’s currently having. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and walk over to Quinn. As if it recognized that it was the same guy that cherished, loved and swore to protect it all those years ago.

When his gaze shoots up to meet yours, that pounding in your chest ceases completely, leaving you to put your palm over your heart, just to ensure that it was still beating, and to soothe the ache that seeing those green eyes unexpectedly caused. The ache only worsens when his lips tip up into a friendly, familiar smile. His head tilting slightly as he sits back, as if he was beckoning you over and before you had even registered what was happening, your feet began moving in his direction.

“Hey,” you say softly when you reach his table and his lips quirk, obviously amused that after all this time that’s how you decide to greet him.

“Hey. Sit please,” Quinn says, gesturing to the chair across from him and you take a seat

“Didn’t expect to see you here. What are the odds…” you say. It was a few days before Christmas, and you knew that the Canucks had a few days off before then so maybe you shouldn’t be as surprised that Quinn decided to come home early for a few days. You paid a little too much attention to the Canadian team than you would like to admit.

“Yeah, it’s an unexpected surprise for sure. A good one though. I came home for Christmas for a few days, decided to stop by here. I haven’t been here in a while,” Quinn says and you nod.

“Well how are you? How are things? Hockey? The family?” you ask, rambling a bit and Quinn chuckles fondly, he knew it was a nervous habit of yours.

“I’m good. Really good. Hockey is good. The team’s heading in the right direction, better than last season that’s for sure. The family is good. Busier than ever but all happy and healthy,” Quinn replies

“That’s good. Yeah I can imagine. Jack’s breaking records left and right and it’s Lukey’s rookie season. And you’re captain now. Big things happening in the Hughes family,” you say and Quinn nods. If he’s surprised that you know that much about him and his brother’s careers he doesn’t let it show. You briefly wonder if he kept tabs on you too. Wondered what you were doing with your life. Career. Dating.

You then come to the conclusion that he’d probably have a harder time trying to figure out details of your life since it isn’t broadcasted like his are. You were snapped out of your thoughts when the server asks you your order and your cheeks tint a little when you realise you walked through the door and straight over to Quinn without even placing an order. To the server it probably looked like you were meeting him for lunch, so some of the embarrassment fades a little and after you place your order, you turn your attention back to Quinn.

“Congratulations on being named captain by the way. It’s a huge achievement Quinn, and I don’t think it’s any surprise that Vancouver is having the year they’re having after naming you captain,” you say and his cheeks redden slightly, fingers tightening against the coffee cup.

“Thank you. I mean there’s a lot of things going into it. The coaching change, the new additions to the team, new playing structures, I don’t think it’s me necessarily…” Quinn says, smiling sheepishly when he sees the expression on your face. He was never good at taking compliments.

“What about you? I heard you opened your own marketing agency? That’s huge, congratulations.” Quinn says and you can’t keep the smile from spreading across your face

“Thank you. And you heard? From who?” you ask teasingly

“Your mom and my mom still talk. She always asks about you, and reports back to me. I still talk to your brother too so…” Quinn trails off and you gape at him

“You still talk to my brother?” you ask incredulously

“Yeah, not often but we catch up every now and then,” he says and you don’t know if you find it sweet that he still kept in contact with your little brother who looked up to him so much or if you felt a little bitter that he could keep in touch with your brother but not you. If only you knew that most of their conversations were about you anyway.

“What about Josh? Brady? You keep in contact with them right…how are they?” you ask and Quinn smiles. Josh was at Michigan with both of you and you and him still followed each other on social media. You guys were friends, you just understandably drifted a little when you and Quinn broke up. You met Brady one summer at the lake house and you had instantly taken a liking to him.

“Josh is good. See him all the time when I come home in the summer. Brady got married. That’s still so weird to say,” Quinn says with a shake of his head and you laugh.

“I saw! Who would’ve thought he’d be the first one to get married. He looks really happy though. Good for him,” you say and both you and Quinn go quiet for a moment after that. There was a time everyone had thought the two of you would be the first ones to get married. You wonder if Quinn’s mind wandered to the same place yours did. To those 2AM conversations you had about your future, what type of house you want, a dog, how many kids. Your relationship with Quinn had always progressed fast, and you had no doubt that if you did follow him to Vancouver, you would have ended up engaged a summer or two after, and probably got married by now. Your heart stings thinking about it.

Thinking about how if you made one or two choices differently you could’ve been married to the man sitting across from you. You could have kissed his bruises after a game, nursed his injuries instead of checking for updates on when he was set to return because you were worried and too scared to reach out and ask him how he was doing. You could have been there to celebrate his milestones with him instead of slyly liking the posts on social media and hoping he would see it and know how proud you were of him. You could have had a lot of things…in another life. If you had done things differently.

Your thoughts get interrupted by the server placing your cup of coffee on the table and you take that as an opportunity to escape. There was no use in sitting here and torturing yourself by daydreaming about all the things you could’ve done differently. You couldn’t change them. You just had to move on and live with them.

“I should get going. This was a pit stop on the way to meeting a friend, and I’m running a bit late. It was nice seeing you, Quinn. Don’t be a stranger,” you say, standing up and grabbing your coffee, knowing this was likely the last time you were going to see him in who knows how long? Another five years? Maybe forever…

“Yeah, you too. Happy holidays and tell your parents I say hi,” Quinn says and you nod, grabbing your cup and practically sprinting out of the café

When you get to your car, you take a moment to collect yourself, clenching the steering wheel tight and taking a shaky breath. You hesitate for a moment before switching on the car and driving away from the cafe. Away from him. And the more distance gets put between you and him, the more you wonder about the next time you return to Michigan. And the time after that. You wonder if you’ll always have a heavy heart when coming home. If you’ll always have a hole in your heart that Quinn used to occupy. If you’ll always think about all the things you wish you could go back and change. Things you wish you could do differently.

And you wonder if this exchange will be the little cherry on top of the “regretting my life choices” cake. If you’ll come back next Christmas and think about how you just had a chance to fix all the mistakes you made. Had a chance to reconnect with the one you let slip away. Had a chance to rectify all those regrets that always plague your mind and you just…didn't.

[ghostlykeyes]

dw abt crazy detailed posts, just have fun writing!! i like reading all of them, short or long :D besides goth gfs 🔛🔝

what abt kayn when his goth gf, who‘s usually confident abt her style, suddenly starts questioning herself bc of her parents? n she spiraling, barely participating in band stuff, and even wanting to avoid kayn bc of it all

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HEARTSTEEL KAYN/ SELF-CONSCIOUS GOTH READER ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TW's

KAYN

At first, Kayn assumes you're just feeling a little off. Who doesn't, every now and then? He tries to help you cheer up the only way he knows how—bothering you. Kayn blows up your phone even more than normal, shows up at your house at all hours to take you out "because he's bored", and is practically glued to your skin whenever you're together. Maybe he's not the best at all that conversation stuff, but his antics will be enough to get you back to your old self...right?

When that doesn't work, Kayn's attitude takes a turn for the worse. He assumes that the reason you're withdrawing is because you're finally fed up with his shit and can't handle him anymore. It's a slap in the face, and he's more upset than he'd like to admit. After all, you were supposed to be different! He would never have let you in if he thought you'd just ditch him.

Kayn does a little spiraling of his own, which obviously makes the situation ten times worse. Surprisingly, he doesn't immediately lash out at you. He's too confused about his emotions to do much other than give you an uncharacteristic cold shoulder. But his bad attitude during rehearsals, general irritability, and the scowl that darkens his face whenever anyone drops your name clues his friends in that something definitely happened between you two.

Thank god for Ezreal, because he just gets it and takes it upon himself to talk some sense into Kayn. He approaches Kayn bringing his favorite energy drink, hoping to give his sulking friend a reality check without getting something thrown at his head. Ezreal listens as Kayn gripes that you must be sick of him or something, but it's whatever, he's totally fine—

"Kayn," Ezreal cuts him off, not bothering to hide his eyes rolling behind his candy-pink sunglasses. "Talk. to. them. You're crazy about each other and it honestly just sounds like they're going through something. You need to be there for them instead of doing this whole hot-and-cold asshole routine."

Kayn grudgingly considers Ezreal's words. Yeah, maybe you could be going through something. But why wouldn't you just talk to him, then? He's still not convinced, and he's still a bit pissy, and he's still dodging your phone calls.

But then you show up to his apartment wearing a beige t-shirt and Kayn knows something is up. The goth baddie he knows wouldn't be caught dead in neutral tones. He snags your hand in his, makes a pit stop at the fridge to grab a can of your favorite drink (he writes it on the grocery list every week to make sure Yone keeps it in stock for you), and drags you into his room.

"Okay, my lil' batty," he sighs, sitting you down on his bed. He squishes your hand reassuringly. "No more acting weird, it stresses me the fuck out. What's up with you?"

Kayn's fuming when he finds out that your parents are putting you down. In his own strange, aggressive way, he gives you a pep-talk about not giving a fuck what anyone thinks. You're awesome and hot, why should you let anyone make you doubt that? He bumps your shoulder with his arm and gives you his signature cocky smirk. "I'm supposed to be the problem, remember? Don't ever let any-fuckin'-body convince you that you're less than perfect."

From then on it's Kayn's life mission to piss the hell out of your parents. Whenever he picks you up from your house, he shows up ten minutes early so he can smoke in the driveway and blast his music so loud it makes the front door rattle in place. He "sneaks in" at night, but always leaves the toilet seat up and muddy boot-prints in the hall so your parents know he doesn't give a shit about your curfew. And, if they have the nerve to confront him about it? Oh, boy... let's just say he has no issues making his opinions known, and he tells them exactly how fucking stupid it is of them to put you down.

Knowing that you're struggling with your confidence right now, Kayn makes extra effort to lift you up. He demands a selfie every day, and blasts you with a hundred drooling emojis and thirsty comments when you flash a peace sign in the mirror and show off your outfit. If he notices makeup or clothes you might like, he doesn't even stop to look at the price tag—straight into his bag it goes. Most of all, he tries to get you to stay with him as much as possible. If your parents are going to pressure you, well then, fuck your parents. You can sleepover at his place whenever you want. If it's privacy you want? He doesn't mind splurging on a studio apartment for you, just so you can have your own space away from your parents' negativity. (Just be warned—if he does pay for your apartment, he's gonna be crashing the place all the time. Make sure you've got his favorite snacks and an extra set of sweatpants on hand, because your couch is basically his second home.)

[saltylandland]

🦇Every Good Girl Needs a Creepy Vamp🦇

Warnings: overstimulation, sex while high, noncon/dubcon, corruption kink (kinda), going off my nsfw headcanons that Paul likes to be degraded for being a creep, reader is in high school but she’s still 18, fem!reader, reader’s not a virgin, uses the term “mama” but reader isn’t pregnant/nor will she become pregnant, I guess this my as well count as yandere, stalking, an obscene amount of cum, I’m talking about A LOT, Paul can make phantom sensations as one of his vampy powers bc why not. Do you ever write something that makes you go ‘oml what the hell did I just write?’, no editing man, I like my men bloody, slutty, and pathetic.

Walking down the sidewalk you turn onto the residential neighbourhood where your family’s home resides. Out of the corner of your eye you spot the same guy. You’ve met him quite a few times on the boardwalk, smoked a joint with him almost every time as well, despite how unnerving you found him at times. But you really couldn’t blame yourself really, having been viewed as a good girl most of your life. Approaching the kids who would be able to get you it was a no go, not only attracting attention by interacting with them in general, you’d have nowhere safe to smoke it without getting caught.

So when you went looking for a possible summer job alone on the boardwalk, your chance came up to you on a golden platter. This new ‘friend’ seems to preen at your attention, not at all frustrated or wary of your shy prude-ness. And not at all aware or at least acknowledging how you only seem to come to him to smoke the devils lettuce.

But who were you to blame really? Upon first meeting you, he’d offer the joint unprompted and in return you’d hang with him until the boardwalk closes. That was your trade as far as you were aware.

As if sensing your eyes on him, he locks eyes with you and takes it as the signal to approach. You lock up a bit, remembering how… close you two have progressed on the boardwalk.

To be truthful you had been avoiding him for just a little bit now, which was easy considering you’d have no reason to go on the boardwalk besides your once in a blue moon shift at a carnival stand. But Paul seemed to have noticed your avoidance, finding him places you’d never expected too, each time a little closer to home.

But it was too late to run now without making it obvious, as Paul meets you with his characteristic non boundaries, practically draping himself across you as greeting.

Before you could think of a backup plan, you had reached your door, luckily you had accidentally left the lights on before you left. Making it seem like your parents were home despite them being a couple states away for work.

You try to think of a way to politely excuse yourself when Paul asks to borrow a lighter, offering to share a joint or two. As tempting as that was, you didn’t want to let him inside, nor did you want the possible smell lingering inside your home and get in trouble, you tell him the latter reason as you inch towards the door.

Paul offers the backyard as an alternative with a glowing smile, mentioning that your parents will know you're there, but you’ll sit away enough that you won’t get caught, and that’s when you give in. Walking into the house to fetch a lighter and ’telling’ your parents about hanging out in the backyard for awhile.

Paul gets settled quickly on the grassy path, pouting slightly when you sit beside him as opposed to on his lap as he eagerly beckons you too. Lighting up quickly he passes the joint to you and you’re quite proud of yourself and how you didn’t cough as you exhaled, welcoming that familiar warmth in your chest and fuzzy feeling crawling in from the back of your head.

Soon enough, Paul was back to his old tricks, hogging the joint and letting you crawl over him to try and get it back. Demanding some sort of reward for each hit you take, mostly little kisses. He’d prefer them on his lips, but he’s patient enough to let you build up to it, going on his forehead, cheek, and chin. Until he captures your chin and plants a kiss on your lips. Next holding you close and dizzying you with the quick succession of kisses.

Ah, this is what he does. His lack of boundaries upping to an eleven and his boldness holds no bounds as he gets high. Using your need for his weed to squeeze as much affection out of you as much as he could. Everytime it was you who stopped before things went too far, but gradually your resolve weakens as you start to crave more. The only thing holding you back was your perceived prudence. You were already pushing past the line with smoking weed, much less with a stranger, but having sex, all of those at once? It was too overwhelming.

Still that ache that often comes with the high, starts pooling in your tummy, letting Paul pull you into his lap despite your better judgement.

Yes, this is exactly what he does. It almost completely mirrors that night on the boardwalk before you started to avoid him.

Goading you on to his lap, holding your lips hostage as he winds you up. So worked up you don’t notice your hips moving, rubbing against his own. Fingers start to trace your body, seemingly seeping through your clothes to touch your skin, despite Paul's actual hands against your waist.

You jumped a bit, looking around to find no one else, the hands remained on your body, trailing against your sensitive breasts and thighs, constantly moving and overlapping with each other.

You had cum on his lap that night, and he tore off your panties just before you had managed to pull away, not seeming to mind the lack of underwear as Paul gave no chase.

In the morning you had woken and after realising you were sans panties, decided to keep your distance from both the boardwalk and him.

The reminder of your stolen panties comes to the forefront of your mind as you flush. And with the weed clouding your normal reserve you ask what happened to them, the grin Paul gives you almost regret your words. “Oh I think you already know huh?” You do know, you know exactly what a boy like him would do with stolen panties but you push anyway. Playing chicken with answers you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle. “Should I? I don’t have a dirty mind like you, you creep.”

You go to move off of him, but he pulls you back with a renewed vigour. “A creep really? Then you’re my good girl right?” Curling his hips upwards, you feel his chubbed up cock against your clothes. Once again you’re wearing a skirt without shorts underneath. You can feel the heat against your core.

“You’re the one I obsess over huh? The one that I climb into trees to get a glimpse of your bare skin? The one that I just can’t help but steal her panties, sniffing her panties so I can come over and over. Still craving her wet pussy all the while?” Smelling your hair makes him groan, his hips stuttering as he bounces you against him as he grinds up to you. “You’re my good girl huh? The one who’ll tease me to get what she needs? The one who’ll rub one out on her bed with her curtains open on the third floor, After getting the fix she needs and running away just as fast?”

Your eyes widen with fear as he reveals more and more intimate details. The more he talks the more it sounds like a confession, and with all the details he provided, you don’t doubt him. Shakily mentioning that you should go back inside, your parents might worry about how late it is. Paul only smiles with that same lazy smile and says oh so casually “I’m sure that won’t be a problem huh? We’ll be quiet enough as to not wake up the next state over.”

Before you start to thrash in his hold, Paul preemptively rolls you over, trapping you in his embrace, grabbing your panties and ripping them off again, this time unashamedly groaning against them as he huffs.

Dragging his hips back and forwards, Paul cums with a moan, his hips digging deeper into your own as he climbs back down, whining into your neck as he overstimulates himself, his pants dampening from his cum as he continues to rock his hips.

Climbing over, straddling your stomach, he pulls out his still hard cock, preening at your attention. He fondles himself as he speaks, cumming over your chest quickly. “I can’t even be satisfied with my hand anymore, can’t even cum with nobody else, I just need you pretty mama.”

With a shuddering moan, he pulls your shoulders down with unnatural ease. He now straddles your chest, as he continues to pump his dick with gross sounding ‘Schlick Schlick Schlick’s. With your panties still pressed up against his nose between words he whines loudly. “Don’t you feel bad for me? That shit you’ve put me through? If you wanted me so bad that you placed a spell on me, all you had to do was -fuck-ing ask”

His tip was an angry red as his hips jerk forward, his voice cracking between pleads and demands. “Uhhhhg fuck just kiss it won’t you? Open your mouth for me baby, you can do it for me, sugar, I know you can.”

Whether intentionally or not (most likely the latter) Paul’s hands snake up from the back of your nape and that makes you gasp lightly. Coincidentally, that is exactly when Paul rocks his hips forward, nearly gagging you on his girth as he slips forward with a guttural cry. “Fuck-fuck me sugar, like that, yea just… like that.”

Bowing over you, Paul keeps you in that position as he humps your mouth with very small movements, trying to stop his orgasm just yet. Only to cum in the back of your throat as he thrust in fully. His cries getting pitchier as he seems to overstimulate himself more, dragging himself on your tongue as you struggle not to choke on his cum.

Completely overwhelmed by the situation at hand, but your body seems to decide for you, that familiar ache of need that follows you whenever you get high has hit full force. Not being able to do anything about it has you squirming.

Pulling you away by your hair, he taunts you with misplaced smugness. “Fuck that’s so hot, you’re a natural you know that? Look how hard you make me” grabbing at your shirt he shreds it down the middle, grabbing at your tits like a tween boy. “There’s those beautiful tits.”

Familiarly, what feels like multiple hands start to grab at your body tenderly, looking around only shows nothing but the feeling is still there. Pawing at your neglected pussy, a hand gently spreads open your lips to the cold air, another teases at your clit and another starts to prep you open. The hands seem to work in tandem, so close together that they should be overlapping but that does nothing to deter their work.

Squishing your tits around his dick, he slides his dick between them as he watches your facial expressions knowingly. He quickly cums again, bending over to lick your face where his cum had covered as he continued to hump.

Pulling back by your hair he directs you back to his still throbbing erection. “Last time was cute, but suck like you really mean it this time yea? Don’t make me do all the work.” Giving you little time to even process that demand he goes to fuck your mouth again, a bit harder and with a lot less grace. Moaning around his dick, the hand prepping you slides in with two fingers. This time he seems to last longer, with a voice slowly becoming less human sounding he moans unabashedly “you’re doing so well for me, mama, fuck.” Pulling out suddenly, he cums on your chest, just as you were about to cum on the fingers, his seed catching on your open mouth as you pant.

The hands didn’t stop, nor did Paul as he tapped his still hard dick against your tongue. Very slowly moving down your body, he watches your body clench around nothing as if he knew what was going down.

“Stop looking you fucking creEP AH” another finger slips in as more hands cup your tits, toying with the sensitive nips as Paul kisses down your body with a gutteral hum. “Perfect mama, keep calling me that, sayin’ it like that. I’ll show you just how much I crave it.”

His dick slides against your clit, as the hand continues harshly. Rubbing gently at first but then a bit harder, a bit faster, watching you keen.

Pulling your legs over his shoulders as he keeps your thighs closed, Paul once again chases another climax with your thighs as you cum again against this invisible force.

Put still, nothing stops, not until Paul comes on your chest, licking up his cum and chasing down your mouth as he tongue fucks your own.

Kissing slowly down as he crawls in between your thighs, he gives a slow lick to your gushing cunt as you squeal. The warm, wet, and slimy tongue savouring your cum as if it was the best thing to eat. He lets the hands do most of the work, choosing to either watch from above you he makes an even bigger mess of himself, wiping your wet pussy with your panties to sniff. Or he licks you slowly, nursing on your clit with a patience you didn’t think he possessed.

But he was determined to make you cum more than he did, which was a feat in itself. Slowly, the invisible hands around your sensitive pussy faded away, leaving you gasping for breath and tired as hell. But Paul makes himself still very much apparent as he uses his palm to smack on your cunt a few times. Embarrassingly, soaking it as he did so.

Gathering your weak limbs, Paul slipped in easily, convincing himself that you were obviously made for him, not acknowledging how he made you this way. Instead preferring his delusions that you were perfect, just for him, as soon as he saw you on the boardwalk.

Wasting no time at all, Paul starts a punishing pace, meanly pinching at your teased nipples and smacking against your clit as you gush around him.

With weak arms you push at his chest, but he easily bats those away as he curls over you, giving you sweet little kisses as he rearranges your guts. Contrasted with the downright disgusting noises he makes as he moans unabashedly, his hips making loud clapping and squelching noises.

You cum around his cock but just as you were expecting he would, he pushes past your orgasm to chase the next one, making you outwardly cry from the overstimulation, barely making any noise as you pant from exhaustion. Paul only kisses up your tears, further silencing your moans as he tongue fucks your mouth.

After quickening up his pace you knew he’d be cumming soon, squirming under him, you really didn’t want to pay for plan b, but he isn’t moved so easily, pulling you back by your hips as he gasps, his forehead resting on your sternum. Just as you had predicted, his cum gushed into your spent cunt and you prayed that he would tucker himself out finally, but apparently god was determined to get your back broken, and so was Paul.

Hiking up your thighs over his own, your pelvis now elevated as your head still rests on the dirty ground, Paul starts to fuck you slower, but harder then before. Pushing up your shirt and bunching up your skirt at your waist, Paul all but salvates over them, laughing as he watches you try to cover them up embarrassed. Holding on to your forearms he uses them as leverage to fuck you deeper, making you cry out lewdly.

Time passes as Paul stays attached to you like a leech, and you start to wonder if he’ll ever let up. Swapping to different positions, trying to find the one he likes the best, but he just can’t seem to make up his mind as he fucks you over and over. Your only peace comes and you barely miss it but as a voice calls out, Paul slows down just enough. Dazed as all hell, you watch as Paul turns his head to regard the newcomers casually, not bothering to cover either of you up nor stop his menstrations.

You can barely understand the conversation but it seems to upset Paul, as he tightens his grip and growls, he fucking growls. And even more embarrassingly, the growl sends vibrations against you, making you mewl loudly. And that was met with whistles and chuckles, as Paul turns back to you to look at you adoringly.

The one who was mainly talking clears his throat, saying one last comment and despite the fact you expected Paul to pull away, instead he turns around and goes back to fucking you, turning your body sideways to where the three boys now stood. With one leg on his shoulder, he throws comments to the boys that you can’t process. It took two shuddering almost painful orgasms of yours until Paul came again. With no signs of stopping the two boys who kept quiet had to wrestle Paul off of you.

He growled, hissed, and made spitting noises like a cornered cat. But he eventually regained himself enough where they let him go. Allowing him to say goodbye, he crawls up to you again, using your panties to wipe both of your frothed up cum that spread onto your legs and abdomen, pocketing them and carrying you into your room through your open window.

Kissing you slowly he searches your room, for a keepsake or two as he looks for a pen. Grabbing your arm gently, he writes on your arm instructions before he kisses you again, tucks you into bed, locks up the window he just broke into, and lets himself out through the front door. Picklocking it closed behind him.

‘When you can move again, meet me at the boardwalk or I’ll come to you ❤️’ -Paul

[merakiui]

I made breakfast + Jade bc he'd be a teasing lil shit and I love him 👉👈

-🦈

Omg this prompt with Jade… 🦈 anon, you’re a genius!!!

(fwb dialogues)

Half-dead and horribly hungover, you wake to the smell of breakfast. It’s a delicious beacon amidst the crushing burden of morning exhaustion. Groaning lowly, you bury deeper beneath the duvet, your face pressed into the pillows.

Clad in sweatpants and a mushroom-print T-shirt, his hair a rightful mess, Jade pokes his head into the room minutes later. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Your response is a not-so-beautiful moan. “I look and feel like shit.”

“Then shall I amend my wording? Ah, but Sleeping Monstrosity doesn’t sound very pleasant now, does it?”

You turn over to greet him with a scowl. “I’m not in the mood.”

But it was my fault for calling him. I always do that. Why did I even decide to drink in the first place? I never make good decisions when I’m inebriated.

He beams, unbothered by the ice in your eyes. He presents the tray with minimal flourish, held at arm’s length. You stare at the contents—plates piled high with pancakes, accompanied with dozens of sides and toppings. It feels like a buffet despite the portion being meant for one person.

“I made breakfast.”

“No shit. Why?”

“Is it not common courtesy to feed your guests?”

“I wouldn’t know. I like to leave before breakfast.”

“So I’ve learned.” He moves in closer, lowering to sit on the edge of the bed, testing just how far he can go before you push him away. “Aren’t I fortunate to have you to myself just a little longer?”

You scoff when he gathers a bite of pancake on the fork and offers it to you. “Don’t get used to it.” Throwing your dignity aside, you close your mouth around the utensil. “Not bad.”

“Consider it a token of my gratitude.”

“For what?”

“For calling me. I do so enjoy our midnight mischief.”

Your brow furrows. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

“Are you sure you’re not mistaking accidental for intentional?”

You snatch the fork out of his hands. “I’ll block your number and never call again.”

A smirk curls on his lips. You think he almost wants you to go through with it, if only so he can laugh when you inevitably come crawling back.

“We’ll see.”

“Just you wait,” you threaten around another morsel of pancake.

Jade chuckles. “It’s difficult to take you seriously when you’re stuffing your face like a hamster.”

“Can’t help it. Food’s good.”

“I’m pleased it’s to your liking.” Jade’s gaze flickers from your face to your hand. “If I may ask, why were you drinking alone?”

“No reason.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

You struggle to recall that, but from the way his eyes twinkle you suspect he remembers it well enough to recite it verbatim.

Intending to spare yourself the embarrassment, you heave a great sigh and force the words out. “My friend announced they’re getting married, and that makes me the last one.”

Jade blinks, stunned. You’re beginning to wonder what version you told him in the midst of your intoxication.

“The last one?”

“The last one left. I’m not married. Yet. Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn’t be…here.”

“Obviously not,” he echoes. “Well, if you’re so devastated, why not find someone to marry?”

“You say it like it’s easy. Where am I gonna find someone who wants that?”

Jade opens his mouth and immediately shuts it.

Neither of you says anything else regarding that matter. Maybe it’s for the best. The future is scary, but a future with Jade is even scarier. Because that would mean opening your heart to him. Because that would mean recognizing what he is to you.

Because you’re not here for the breakfast, and it’s not just drunken desire that leads you to his doorstep. It’s muscle memory, but you won’t acknowledge that. Neither will Jade. Not yet.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

.batcrow feat. the owl.

or a situation, which is stuck somewhere between existential threat an’ scuffle between barn animals.

...

(it’s one of those underdeveloped, raw-ish concepts that i indulge in just for funzies. it all started very simply. i was thinking about what kind of person might make bruce jealous. the topic was kinda challenging, considering that bruce in the comics *at least in the ones, i read* or even btas is rarely express this emotion if at all. in fact, at one point, he literally said to the woman, who he supposedly was in love with, that she should stay with the other man, who also liked her, bc he needed her more *he got disfigured an' such* an’ she was like ‘wtf is wrong with you. to paw me to the other man like that’, clearly outraged. but bruce didn’t seem to fully grasp what her issue was lol.

still, what if he somehow got jealous of another man, when it comes to crane, anyways? and who that man could possibly be? my first thought was superman, bc bruce generally can be kinda petty, when it comes to him. but clark is such a puppy-like character. he wouldn’t have been mean about it, or even be someone who could potentially like jon in such a manner. at worst, bruce might have got annoyed at crane *not clark*, if he said smth about superman’s strong arms in front of him. some jealousy there, but not quite what i was looking for, when pondering on that set up.

an' then, i recalled the owlman! i only know the version of him from the cartoon, an’ honestly after seeing glimpses of what they do with him in comics, i’d say this is the only owlman for me. from the crisis on 2 earths ‘toon. gotta admire a character, who is SO nihilistic an’ SO sure in his own worldview, that he literally does nothing an’ dies, just bc it doesn’t matter to him. he even smiles a bit, if i remember correctly. kinda both chillin’ an’ sad. the owlman had an ego, but he also just kinda….wanted everything to die an’ that’s it. he is what might have happened, if bruce went full blown doctor strangelove, after his parents death. which is funny, bc owlman isn’t bruce wayne at all, but he is the one who ‘takes’ his place in his own universe. i don’t remember if it was ever revealed in the cartoon, who the owlman was or if they left it ambiguous. i'm pretty sure, that they made him bruce’s brother in the comics, specifically. but i might be wrong, bc there was a few owlman in batman's ran, i think...?

either way, this version here is devoid of backstory. the main thing for him is that there was never a bruce wayne in his universe, an’ coincidently enough, no jonathan crane, either. as result, owlman knows nothing about scarecrow. he had analogs of other batman’s rogue gallery, who were either heroes or anti-heroes, but he never had professor of fear of his own. an' that’s part of the reason why he gets slightly curious about him. at the begining, it's very casual on his part. i guess, he might have wondered why it's those two *jon an' bruce* specifically, who never existed in his reality. everybody else, clearly did. so he looks a bit closer into it, still mostly for the sport. only to find out about strange relationships that crane has with the bat.

the owlman is an isolated kind of character. he doesn’t care for his own teammates. nor he's able to reciprocate their affection. i mean, he didn’t really react to the villain version of wonder woman kissing him. he was surprised, sure, but not hurrying to return the gesture or even seemingly knowing what to do about this situation. which led me to believe, that at least in the frames of that toon’s worldbuilding, he had no alt alfred or robin or anyone, who he was close with. kinda an opposite of batman, who does to a degree surrenders himself with people, even if he keeps them at *emotional* distance, more often than not. but the point is, that bruce still wants a connections an’ not devoid of hope to see the things sorta/kinda working up. in comparison, owlman is as nihilistic as a person can get, so it makes zero sense for him to have close ties with anyone. or even see it smth that he needs. but i imagine that witnessing how batman acts with his enemies, jon esp, be a very confusing experience for him. like, why pity such a person? why even show some small signs of kinship with him? an' what’s so different about this one, if anything at all? 

so after some more pondering, he approaches crane just to see for himself, if he is worth all that effort *sympathy* or not. an’ hey, scarecrow is kinda fun. reactive an’ jerky, an’ surprisingly aggressive for such a coward. owlman's usual enemies are the good guys. they're heroic an' noble. but jonathan isn’t that. not even close. his worldview is bitter an' twisted. whatever wrongs were done to him, didn't mold him into a hero like with any other owlman's enemy. the scarecrow is a villain to the boot an' it's...new. his use of fear is interesting too. none of his enemies had this gimmick. this makes the owlman wanna play around with him for a bit longer. or owlman experience unknown emotions for the first time in years an’ kinda not fully certain what to do about it, other than indulge in it. his end goal still the same. it won’t change for/or bc of anything, but he can have a small distraction, before the curtains call. it's not everyday, when he can find a person, who is kinda interesting to him, even if bc of pure novelity that he can hang out with a man, who had never existed in his own timeline.

then, he learns about the scarecrow’s life. how it went downhill or rather, how it was sorta doomed from the start almost. an’ oh. here it is. that’s what batman feels too, isn't it? that silver of kinship. the owlman never had this before. an’ it’s not a bad feeling, either. he was never able to relate to the others. it’s like ‘everything sucks so much. everything just sucks forever’ an’ he has found someone who understands the meaning of this sentiment, an' not just being an emo about life. at least, the owl would assume that jon understand it in the exact same way he does *but jon doesn’t lol* 

meanwhile, bruce is concerned. owlman is a very bad, bad kind of man to have around crane for many different reasons. one of which is that it doesn't sound like a hard thing to convince someone like crane, that destroying everything is the only 'right' way to go about things. jonathan's life is generally was an' still is awful, so why not end it all, but with a huge, literal bang?

it’s like a nihilistic doom an’ gloomy buddy club. sounds hella corky, but in reality, it’s dark stuff, actually. jon be beyond depressed in this case. him getting all buddy-buddy with people, who are more unhinged an’ dangerous than him isn’t a new thing. but in this case, it’s like an extra salt on batman’s open wound. the bat himself states in comics at least twice, how crane is one of those villains, who don’t just stay the same, but who progressively gets more an’ more insane an’ deranged each time he breaks out of arkham. him hanging out with the person, whose worldview is basically ‘it would have been so much better, if we all were dead’ an' who literally an' genunily means this, isn’t smth that is good for jonathan's *already declined* mental health. esp if owlman is also rather problematic in other ways too. not to meantion, that him dragging crane along is also kinda personal. in this way, he might be showing bruce, that no matter how much he wants his rogues to change or how much good will he shows them, they're all just human, therefore they're all hopeless an' bad. bc all humas are bad in owlman's understanding. it's like 'aw, you want to believe that this one isn't a lost cause? what if i will make him help me to murder everybody? still think he worthy of your delusions?' owlman might have an end goal, but he's also arrogant an' petty too.

on main, i have two rough-ish concepts for their uhhh, trio shippy thing. in PG-ish version, it’s just that owlman influencing jon in an awful ways, an’ since he kinda/sorta resembles batman, crane subconsciously rely on him, bc he's somewhat familiar. besides, the owl hints that his own life was bad too, an’ it’s like finally someone gets on the same level of despair as crane does. an' also, maybe...this what could have been, if the bat was a villain too. they could have been on the same team. so in a way, it's kinda more of jonathan playing into this weird fantasy of himself an' bad batman, than him fully understanding the real level of 'oof' that owlman tries to acomplish with 'the plan'.

*funny enough tho, where it really counts, jon isn’t like owlman. he, for one isn’t someone who would just give up. after every fail an’ each kick an’ shove, he still gets up. the thing about jonathan is that he wouldn’t just lie down an’ die no matter how much pain an' humilation an' despair, he felt. an’ he also wouldn’t *in the end* commit to the idea of murdering countless people just bc his life sucked. even if, it doesn’t mean, that he won’t go through motions an’ nearly, truly consider going along with it. he isn’t alright in the head, an’ his negative emotions tend to get the best of him. still, i feel like most versions of jonathan would in the end, decide that no, it's not what he wants or ready to take responsibility for.*

it all would resolve in comic book fashion, where jon would help the bat in the end, an’ not that other man, who had his allure an’ had almost seduced crane into doing one last evil act any human being in existence could have ever done. still, there always be longing on scarecrow’s part for this odd, wrong ‘batman’, even if he sticks with his own, regardless. 

*an’ yeah, the bat is kinda jealous throughout all of this lol. the world can be hanging by a thread, but no one said, that he cannot be a tad possessive, while he’s saving it *an’ crane* too. owlman will have fun with this knowledge, while it will go completely over jonathan’s head. mister ‘i can pin-point everyone’s fear from one conversation’ would have a really hard time understanding that batman’s beef with the owl not strictly hero vs villain thing*

then, in more mature version, it's kinda the same-ish plot, but owlman prob would do way more messed up things, which might put crane into a position, where he’s afraid to not comply, but also not actually willing to do it. an’ naturally, there bruce won’t be jealous, more so angry. really struggling with idea, if he should let just this one man *or an owl, whichever rings more true* die. an’ then, if this is a reflection of him, what kind of person, he really is. so it’s more of moral dilemma an’ a character study of a nihilistic sociopath, who just might have wanted to have a lil chew-toy, as he prepares his biggest scheme.

anyways, it’s not like an otp3 or anything. i’m a very bond/pair oriented fella. so when i’m dabbing into 3 way dynamics, it usually has more situational/reactive undertones. but i won't deny, that it’s fun to think about 'what if' or even about some situation in the void, where the bat an’ the owl double teame the crow. which in any plot-included or a somewhat coherent narrative just wouldn’t have happened bc of how all 3 of them function / react to things. it just not in their character to do it this...randomly. but if i will ever make a superhero pwp ficlet collection, i might try to do smth with this idea.)

[lionheartedmusings]

with mousey and bad together on the server, there's been a lot of talking about her as satan (it's been clarified by mousey that all she remembers is that she's a demon from hell) and her as bad's boss, and i wanted to do a bit of a deep dive on bad's demon lore through both a "pop culture" view and a more traditional biblical view.

in pop culture we've had a lot of mixing up of demon lore in general, with the prevalent idea that demons are creations of hell, and not all of them necessarily fallen angels or previously heavenly beings — it's a perfectly valid analysis, but i'm firmly convinced that bad's character is not just any demon, but instead very much a powerful demon that was once an angel.

let's start with what we do know of q!bad's personal history and slot things into their proper place. we know he's around 11600 years old (making his "date of birth" somewhere around 9577 BC. we also know he arrived in this world (which in this case we have to assume is whichever dimension qsmp is held in) in 9600 BC which means he lived the majority of his life away from his home — he was barely 23 when he "moved".

we also know that he didn't come to this dimension willingly, that he was summoned and in that summoning he caused serious destruction — it's been made pretty apparent that the man sunk atlantis, and frankly there's still a question as to whether he did it on accident or not, or the reason why he keeps it hidden. according to bonnie the horse, he sent them a lot of "salty souls" once, and bonnie has also dubbed bad "death of the sea". it doesn't matter whether bad is hiding because what he did made him famous, or because he feels terrible — what matters here is that one singular demon was able to cause the destruction and sinking of a whole civilization singlehandedly. he was also able to do it at a pretty young age.

we also know that bad has eaten souls before (as well as anything he can get in his mouth, apparently), that he's got a way to avoid being summoned (as he told dapper he'd let him know later) and that for better or for worse, he's immortal. so, it's safe to say that bad is an extremely powerful being that cannot be killed by any means, and who has enough control over himself to not only hide his true nature but also contain himself to the highest degree.

speaking of death, bad's relationship with it is very interesting on a few levels. we know he's employed as a grim reaper (and that being a grim reaper is completely removed from his origins, it's just a job) and that to one degree or another, he's acknowledged mumza as the goddess of death as being canonical to him as well (yesterday tallulah spoke about death as a beautiful woman, and bad confirmed to chat she meant mumza).

but what is a grim reaper?

traditionally, grim reapers (or those who served their role) were nothing more than physical manifestations of death with the purpose of easing humans from one plane into the next. they're friendly and kind, and historically for the longest time (up until the middle ages and the plague) they were positive figures, reminiscent at many times of angels.

now, onto angels. angels biblically are far from the cherubic vision we see most often — they're whatever they're needed for. they can be kind-hearted messengers, but they're also warriors and if need be, and they can be incredibly dangerous to humans. why did some fall? simple enough, they sinned. there are passages in the bible regarding the fall of angels and they're described as losing the war in heaven, being cast down with "satan" (while satan and lucifer are not entirely interchangeable and they're often considered two different people, biblically today they're presumed to be the same so let's just roll with it for now) into hell. other passages speak of angels who sinned against god and who await judgement in hell.

but what does any of this have to do with badboyhalo, you ask? well… more than it seems at first if you put it all together. on a basic level, bad wouldn't be considered your average demon — yes, he's full of mischief, has an odd moral compass, and can be incredibly violent, but he's also very kind, and very gentle, and very very loving. there are contradictions in his personality that could be discounted as meta… but the evidence continues to pile up. bad is full of angel iconography, from the actual halo in his name and in his preferred design, but his new build in his home is really beating us over the head with it — he build two statues that can only be described as holy warriors, dark and demon-y but with a golden halo and beautiful white wings.

then, there's "the chair". which is not a chair, it's very much a throne, but for whatever reason bad seems vehemently opposed to admitting that it is, in fact, a throne — it's huge, and full of dark and red blocks, fire… and behind it? huge angel wings. now, one could argue that they're bones, but there are details in the blocks that very clearly allude to feathers — the idea of white feathery wings is a direct parallel to angels, and i think it's very intentional.

who, then, is badboyhalo? i'd put my money on his personal lore being connected to the demonology idea of "the princes of hell" — angels who fell from the grace of god, and took up their kingdoms in hell. i'm fully convinced that bad is a prince of hell. now, which one? that's trickier, and not something we know enough to real pinpoint, especially when you consider that the identity of the princes of hell is pretty fluid — there's a lot of different texts who name different demons, so i'm choosing to simplify it until we get more information.

tl;dr - badboyhalo is not just any ol' demon, but a fallen angel — one of the "princes of hell".

a special thanks to @comradeboyhalo because this post was very handy!

[ratlordsarah]

another dream I had with dr two brains 💀

this actually happened a few nights ago, but I forogr about it lol

I am also gonna put an undercut on it, bc this one is pretty long 😭

But first, context: in this dream, I was roommates with my friend (Hii cas 🤫🧏) , and we each had 100 rats as pets (my friend also had 50 pet mice), and in the basement, we had Martin Luther king, Harriet Tubman, and Steve Urkel as roommates who also lived in our attic 💀

anyways, there were cats that were always climbing through the air ducts, and out the vents in the house, which was a problem considering our rats. Btw, I mean all sorts of cats, big, small, fluffy, hairless, you name it 😭

but as it turns out, the reason why cats were there was bc dr phil was in the ventilation system and put a cat spawner from Minecraft in there and he was doing it because he was convinced that the house was possessed by a “demon” in which the “demon” was none other than Chris kratt from wild kratts. later on, dr two brains randomly ascends from the sky and phases through the roof of our house as if he were in Minecraft creator mode, and starts speaking mouse to the mice, and rat to the rats 💀

as it turns out, he ended up manipulating the rats& mice to come over to his lair and we could only get our rats and mice back if we went to his wear house, and gave him all of the shredded cheese we had in the fridge (in the dream, we had a specific fridge dedicated to shredded cheese)

We gave him the cheese and got our rats and mice back, but he felt bad for taking the rats in the first place, so he ended up giving us each a golden statue of biggie cheese and Spamton from Deltarune fist fighting an ant

I don’t really remember what happens next, but I missed some important key details, because I am now Whitney Houston and we are all running from the house because Chris kratt was trying to murder us (dr Phil was right) and everyone died by jumping out of a high window, accept for me.

but I was so distracted by a flower trying to sell me crack that I woke up.

(The dream has ended at this point, but I tend to hallucinate when I wake up for 5-50 seconds sometimes. This also happens when I fall asleep sometimes too.)

but now, as I have awoken my my slumber, I see a floating dr two brains saying “you didn’t bring me enough shredded cheese, to the incinerator you shall be next” in a mix of a British accent and a southern accent, which naturally made me jolt out of bed

needless to say, fun way to start my morning 💀

should I be on meds???😭

[cafeinthemoon]

King - Chapter IV

Chapter 4/?

Wordcount 3,8k

Title Your Voice

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: mentions of nudity; mentions of pain/aching and physical discomfort; slightly angsty and tense tbh

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: I still didn't talk about it, but the notes in Italic that preceded Chapter I and the current Chapter are actually lessons from reader's mother, most of them taught during reader's childhood. They are based on her mother's personal experience as a woman and her views on marriage and parenthood, which will be explored in the future, since they're deeply connected to the reasons why reader became Poseidon's wife. Reader's mission in the Kingdom of the Seas is obviously more than survive: as she learns about life and the rules of her new house, she will find opportunities to proof her mother's views right or wrong, as well as to discover secrets about her mother's past that might affect her future.

Also back with this gif bc I love it sm 🥰

They know they cannot tame us completely, so they invent ways to keep us locked. The first thing they do is to turn you into a wife. The second is turn you into a mother. The less time you have to think and to learn, the less power you have over yourself, and so is the will to speak for yourself. When you reach this point, it is over for you. When a woman wants to escape this, she often submits to craziness, sorcery or crimes, but none of these will grant her happiness, or so my experience says. On the other hand, being tamed and silenced will not make you happy either.

Do you remember what we, merchants, always say? Our voice, when well used, can be more precious than the gold we trade. Understand this, child: a woman’s voice is her freedom, and her freedom is gold. To protect your freedom, you must to learn how and when to use your voice.

I’m drowning. I’m in the depths of the ocean, and I can’t get out.

As the King of the Seas was making you his, this was the only thing you could think of.

The indigo curtains, seen from the canopy’s interior, were turned black to your blurry sight, and the size of the mattress made it impossible for you to reach their edges; the sheets, slipping under your body like silk, were cold when you first touched them, but now the heat of the activities over them went through the fabric, and you felt them clinging to your sweaty skin at each movement.

He was now using his legs to keep yours in place, and as one of his hands held your left arm, the other kept a firm grip on your waist, maintaining the closeness while he used his lips on your mouth, your chin and neck. You could hardly move on your own, but it wasn’t like you needed it: Poseidon considered that most of the work was supposed to be done by himself, and in the name of his pride he would insist on it even when you were willing to do your part. Not that he was brute or was unsure of what to do, of course – he knew exactly how to be good to his woman, quickly discovering where to touch and where to caress, taking the best out of you – but he was a god, and god’s ego was unparalleled.

I’m drowning, and he won’t let me reach the surface.

However, as much as his experience and boldness made everything special, this was also the biggest issue of this union: compared to him, you were frail and small, so your limbs succumbed before his strength and your body found hard to follow his pace after little time; with the weight of his body over yours, the steamy air barely filled your lungs, and his grip made it impossible for you to do things such as raising your hands to touch him.

Still, you watched your desire for him grow, so you wanted, you expected him to carry on: the taste of his lips had you addicted, and his scent on your nostrils was intoxicating. Like someone caught in the middle of strong waves, who finds a curious, new pleasure in their crashes against their skin, you found yourself wishing to see him crush, tear you apart, take everything out of you until there was nothing left.

I’m drowning... but I don’t want to escape.

This thought had you scared when it crossed your mind. You supposed that this was what people called a god’s enchantment, the reason why many couldn’t say no to become their lovers, to have their children or even to die or to be cursed for their sake.

This is how he keeps so many of us under his control, then.

Now you were gasping for air, your eyes burning with tears, and your body started to ache. Poseidon had his hands on your hips now, keeping you in place as he kissed your cheek. If you didn’t want to get hurt, you would need him to go easier, but would him hear you for a second time? Would you be testing his patience with this?

For the sake of your well-being, you decided to risk.

– P-Poseidon-sama… – you whispered, your hands on his shoulders – I can’t breathe…

For a moment, you thought he didn’t hear you, but you sighed in relief when he stopped at last, taking his chest off yours. Your lungs were immediately filled with hot air, and for a moment you were unable to speak.

– Look at you – you felt his fingers brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead – So fragile that I could break you if I kept going… It is even pathetic…

You bit your lip to avoid an irritated reaction: yes, you weren’t expecting a formal apology for the state he put you in, but blaming you for it was too much. He laughed, as if your anger was too cute for him to take it seriously, and sat on the bed, taking you with him and adjusting you on his lap; your legs ached a bit, but at least you could breathe freely now. You leaned your hands on his shoulders as to seek for balance, and his hands kept a strong grip around your waist, guiding your body as he continued to make love to it.

– Still, I cannot help it – you felt his tongue on your cheek, where a single tear rolled through, wet and warm against your skin – Your flesh is softer… Your scent is more delicate… Your taste is sweeter… – he grabbed your thigh, pulling you tighter against himself; your muscles ached, making you moan – If I was a human like you, I would say you would be the death of me…

Those words aroused and surprised you at the same time.

In the beginning, by everything you’ve heard about Poseidon’s disposition towards your people, the fact that you were chosen to become his wife was just senseless; however, what he was doing, what he was saying now revealed a side of this story that you’d never suppose to exist. Was he as drawn to the human fragility as he claimed? Or was it the very reason why he rarely brought humans to his domains? This second hypothesis was easier to believe now that you were finally with him.

And if that was the case, your privilege – your luck – of still being alive was greater than you could imagine.

You felt his palm on the back of your head, his fingers slipping through your hair as he started murmuring in your ear, his lips brushing on it and making you shiver.

– Would you like it, little dragonet? If I said I would die because of you? – he kissed your lobe – Playing with your words, saying these absurd things about dying for each other… I have heard mortals enjoy it… But what about you? – and, since you didn’t reply, – Why are you so quiet?… Won’t you give me an answer? Hm?

You mumbled a negative reply, and he chuckled, his hot breath warming your skin.

– You do not like it? – his grip on your hair increased, keeping you in place – Liar.

– I’m not…! – you had the nerve to talk back – I’m not lying, my Lord…!

Instead of getting angry, Poseidon laughed at this: apparently, your frail attempts of denying him were really entertaining.

– Oh, no? – you felt his hands caressing your lower back, pulling you to him, his lips brushing over yours as he spoke – Then why your body says otherwise?

You bit your lip, refusing to reply because, in fact, you weren’t in conditions for this: the mere thought of having a powerful god at your feet, trading his life for you like a mortal man, was an audacity by itself, even more exciting when he put it in words. But you didn’t enjoy the sensation of having your fantasies exposed and scrutinized by him, so you avoided arguing, limiting your voice to gasps and tiny moans.

How did I end up this way? There’s a part of myself I don’t want him to reach... Still, my body desires him, to the point of making me think I would devote myself forever to him if I could… that’s so unfair...

Your heartbeats grew faster as hot tears fell through your face, and you threw your arms around him, hiding your face on his shoulder when your apex finally came.

However, it lasted longer than you expected: even though he noticed you were on your limit, Poseidon carried on for a while, only stopping when he has taken everything he could from you. By the end of it, your body was covered in sweat and your limbs were trembling, so that the only thing you were able to do was to stand still, panting.

He laid you down on the mattress, but didn’t take the spot by your side: he kept sitting on the same place, as you felt his eyes observing your exhausted form. Your ankle was tickled when he caressed it with his fingertips.

– I suppose you are not able to take more than this for now. So, stay there and rest – he spoke more to himself than to you; in his voice, you sensed a mixture of diversion and disdain for your state – But even when you are a tiny, delicate human, you resisted well, dragonet. You are a really entertaining creature. Bringing you here was a wise decision.

You were hearing all of this, of course, but being too tired to open your mouth or even to think of a response, you just stood quiet. If Poseidon thought you were already sleeping, you couldn’t tell, but he fell silent with the complete absence of your voice. Moments after, you noticed a pressure on the mattress, as if he was moving away from you, and the sound of the curtains being opened confirmed that he was going to leave you there alone.

***

You woke up in a startle and realized you were laying on the same position you were left on the bed. The curtains were closed, and everything was quiet inside them. You had no ways to be sure of how long you’ve slept, but you supposed it has been just a few minutes, because you didn’t notice any numbness or ache on the side of your body upon which you laid. You moved to the other side…

And startled when you found Poseidon lying there too. Your first impulse was to move away from him, but the possibility of him waking up and pulling you back to himself refrained you, so you first tried to make sure he was asleep: you didn’t even know if gods needed to sleep, but he was so quiet, his breath so slow and deep, that you were almost convinced that they did. You raised your hand and touched his chest, sensing it moving up and down to his breath, but no reaction came from him.

You moved your hand away, relieved, and tried to distance your body from his… but his voice, low and composed, stopped you midway.

– I am awake, if this is what you want to find out – you sensed the mattress being pressed as he moved on his side – And I would appreciate if you stopped trying to escape. You will return to the lodge, but only when I decide.

Before you could do anything, you sensed him stretching his arm and grabbing you by your waist, pulling you back and laying you upon himself. You shivered when you noticed he was still undressed, but stood quiet, your head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped tight around you. For a moment, you were afraid he would suffocate you again, but you were left at will.

You thought he would engage in a conversation after making you stay with him, but he just stood as silent as before: apparently, he had no interest in building any form of relationship with you through talking, but wanted to keep you as a living belonging, one that he could touch, smell and sense around him whenever he could, just as he was doing now: while he had one arm folded behind his head, the other one was around you, his hand tracing circles on your back, his fingers sometimes playing with your hair.

Your chest ached with that. If you were married to someone you knew well, and whom you had enough time to love, you would be in a peaceful, ecstatic state at that very moment. But, after being dragged to a room under the ocean to lie with someone you only knew by name and who wasn’t even human, there was no way for you to feel in peace now.

A lump appeared in your throat, and you tightened your lips and eyes to avoid crying, but when you noticed, your cheeks were wet and clingy, and you started trembling. You tried to contain your restlessness, but all your efforts were in vain, and none of this went unnoticed by Poseidon, who inquired you with a sort of annoyance.

– What is it?

You gathered all your strength to not sob and replied that you were just sore.

– Why didn’t you tell me earlier?

And, without waiting for a response, he took you out of the canopy, carrying you in his arms to another section of the room.

***

You went through a door that was invisible from the room’s entry, but easily detected when you left the bed. This door was similar to the one of the entry, but narrower, and it led to a corridor with cold, white lights and blue walls. By the end of it, there was what you supposed to be a bathing area, but you couldn’t see any shower or bathtub anywhere: it was just the floor and the walls decorated with small tiles that formed mosaics representing episodes of marine wildlife, from small creatures being swallowed by colossal predators to elegant beings playing, wandering and making love to each other. You were wondering why would someone want this last activity to be represented inside their house when Poseidon put you down and stepped away from you.

You passed your arms upon your chest and thought of asking what was going on when you saw him snapping his fingers, and the last thing you knew was your sight being covered by jets of warm water coming from all possible directions, making you protect your eyes as they cleaned your body entirely.

Heavens, if he wants to drown me, he could just say it out loud.

You closed your lips tight to avoid swallowing water, and after what seemed an eternity, the showering finally ended. With a sigh, you rubbed your face and blinked until your view got clear again. You were twisting your hair to take out the excess of water when Poseidon approached you and held you in his arms again; you tried not to look at his face, in order to avoid finding a new sign of disappointment in it.

You crossed a second door on the opposite side of the one through which you entered that area, and this time you entered a wider, lighter room that reminded you of a bathing house, with a rectangular water tank in the middle of it, so large that it looked more like a pool than a bathtub; the walls and the edges of the tank were of a rosy white, with delicate patterns of sea weeds and small fishes, and the water’s surface, trembling with ripples that reflected their shade, as well as the light descending from above, from what you supposed to be hidden lamps. All around you, the murmur of the streams falling from four spouts, one at each corner of the tank, worked to calm your moods as much as the lights.

One of the sides of the tank had three or four stairs carved on it that led to the water’s interior. Poseidon stopped in front of them and put you down, leaving you on the first stair as he went to a corner where you saw shelves of bottles in many sizes and shapes, something similar to what you found at the bathing area where Kenya and Yua took care of you earlier. He stretched his hand and grabbed one bottle on the top of a shelf, then a second on the one below it, then brought both with him.

The first bottle’s content reminded you of a pink, vibrant dust, and the second one was of pure white, like the expensive sugar you used to see at the tables of your father’s rich clients. Poseidon opened the bottles (their covers were attached to them) and poured a bit of each one on the water. He went back to put them in their previous places as you observed the color of the water change to a darker shade of pink, and a soothing fragrance came up from it as the dusts blended with it.

Once again, he came back and took you with him as he walked into the water.

The tub wasn’t really deep: on the opposite edge, in front of the stairs, the water reached Poseidon’s knees, which you supposed to be a bit above your own, and when he sat with you on his lap, the water covered your chest.

– What were those things that you poured on the water, Poseidon-sama? – you asked while observing your surroundings.

– Healing salts – he moved the strands of your hair away from your back, leaving your skin exposed – They will work on your pain and tiredness.

You didn’t reply, and he started taking small amounts of the water in his palms and pouring them on your skin, then massaging the wet areas: first, he caressed your back and shoulders, then spent a brief moment on your neck; he then made you uncross your arms and took care of them, and while you looked at his hands working, you startled when you saw the amount of reddish marks all over your body; still, you didn’t interrupt him. Your chest and your breasts were not forgotten, as he stroked them with his palms and gave special attention to your nipples, were the ache was deeper.

Since your thighs and legs were under the water, the effect of the salts reached them faster, still your husband took more time to take care of them: adjusting your position on his lap, he separated your legs and spent the next minutes caressing them, even more in the space between your thighs, where your muscles were more sensitive.

When Poseidon called those products “healing salts”, you supposed it was just a poetic name for common bath salts, which use was limited to cosmetic and relaxing properties, but as you sensed the pain ceasing with the massage and the warm water moving around you, as well as the subtle perfume of the salts entering your nostrils, you understood his words as a literal explanation. When you noticed, you were already feeling your eyes heavy, and, without warning, your head fell forward, and you only had time to sense him bringing it to his chest before the consciousness left you for the second time.

When you woke up, you were on the same place, and the water was still warm. You blinked and moved, trying to straighten up on your husband’s lap.

As soon as you did it, you heard his voice.

– I thought I would have to wake you up, dragonet – he brushed your hair, starting to dry, away from your shoulder – Usually, these salts just work on the pain and the superficial wounds on one’s body, and even to calm one’s mood, but they are strong enough to put a human to sleep.

You didn’t reply. He continued to speak, not letting it clear if he was talking to you or to himself.

– Each moment that passes, you find a new way to surprise me with your frailty – he chuckled – It is been a while since I allowed you to enter my domains, but you are still as tricky as in the old times. However, I am starting to enjoy the stressful mission that is taking care of you.

No word came out from your mouth in response, but you replied in thoughts.

If it’s so stressful, why did you bring me here in the first place?

If Poseidon was able to guess what you were thinking, you didn’t know, but he might have had a clue, judging by what he said to you next.

– You are always so silent. Is this shyness, or are you just not willing to share your thoughts with your husband?

That time, something grew inside you and gave you the courage to speak. You looked into his eyes – something that was even harder to do now that you were seeing his eyes under a clear light.

– If I told you everything that’s inside my mind, my Lord... Would you still keep me alive?

You noticed his right, golden eyebrow raising as he kept his glare over you for a moment, forcing you to look away. You felt his hand approaching your neck, his fingers crawling through your skin, making impossible for you to tell if he was just caressing you or if he was going to suffocate you.

– Why don’t you go ahead and speak your mind to find out?

You swallowed. If those were the conditions, you were better keep your mouth shut.

Poseidon laughed.

– Clever girl – his hand left your neck and held your chin, making you approach him; he gave you a long, warm kiss on your temple – Knowing when to talk and when to keep quiet is a beautiful virtue, and you seem to have mastered it. How did you do it?

Was it an invitation for you to tell him about your origins or past life? If that was the case, you would have to do it carefully: if his servants were able to find your house and deliver his message to your father, he must have been informed about details of your routine or homeland and was now testing your capacity of revealing and hiding things.

Not having much choices, you opted for an honest answer.

– I come from a family of merchants, Poseidon-sama. There is a saying among us: our voice, when well used, can be more precious than the gold we trade. In my house, we take this very seriously.

You observed the corners of his lips curl into a satisfied smile.

– It is good to hear that, dragonet. It means that there is at least one lesson I do not need to teach you.

Chapter 5

[yonemurishiroku]

(tags via @smartichokes) In light of new addition to my Luke & Nico replacement post, I have so much to say about this.

Firstly, there is a fanfic in which Kronos switched to Nico as his host halfway through the series. I said fic, Nico went to Tartarus wayyyyy sooner than he should (which is sometime right after TTC I think?), and got captured by Kronos' force. The Titan considered seizing him, so Luke left the Titan Army and returned to the light side.

With that being said, the Nico in said fic didn't become the host, as Luke (and Ethan) got him out before the taking-over.

In another fic, which is about Nico's apotheosis, It is established that Kronos has been taunting Hades to become his host since he is his eldest child, and as a result, Nico would suffer the same fate should he become a God. Nico didn't, of course, but we can see that he can be a great candidate for the position of Kronos’ host Due to the potential he possesses as a child of Hades. I have talked so much about how powerful he is so I suppose this goes without saying.

On the other hand, the child of the prophecy was supposed to be the son of an eldest god, so let's imagine: Nico is a child of an elder god and now is basically One of the main factors that dictate their fate being the central of Kronos' power. Can you imagine the thrill of having both the antagonist and the protagonist a child of the big three, knowing both of them have the power to change the flow of the story? Nico might as well be the child of the prophecy and now he is in the hands of the big bad villain? Who is to say he wouldn't choose to raze the Olympic to the ground? Please, I cannot be the only one seeing the thrill of second-guessing yourself and watching Percy second-guessing himself, page by page.

Back to our AU.

- Absolutely invested in Nico with Kronos' golden eyes.

- Idk if you have noticed, but there are a number of people who would very much be delighted to see Nico joining the Titan Army - so that's a plus. Though we haven't thought as far as putting him directly in Luke's place, this is such a fun territory to play with.

On the other hand, we should have thought about that lmao what's with Minos having done exactly like this in the canon. The King did manipulate Nico in order to accelerate his uprising (tho Rick wasn't unhinged enough to give the Underworld ghosts the benefit of possessing living things except for the eidolons).

Minos failed ofc. But surely the scenario is there. Furthermore, a big reason that hindered Minos was Nico's true control over him, which returned to him upon his enlightenment, thus breaking the fake power balance. But Nico didn't have any control over Kronos. Once he's in, there's no way out. Kronos is on another level compared to Minos. Luke had one way out and that was his death. Who to say the arms of Hades wouldn't be Nico's ending should he succumb to Kronos anw.

- I like the way you mention Percy - because as it turns out, Nico can perfectly mirror Luke regarding how Percy's fatal flaw is portrayed.

Percy's fatal flaw can be summed up in one sentence - "You would sacrifice the world to save a friend". Now, for Luke, it was thanks to the guy's friendly facade at the start that Percy had trouble deeming him as the enemy at first. For Nico, that's a little different. It's not friendship - bc surely Percy didn't consider 'friend' at that time. So what could it be?

The guilt. And the Loyalty from which it sprouted.

But loyalty to what?

To Bianca's promise.

And this varies between perspectives, but I suspect this can be much, much worse than what transpired with Luke if you know how to play it right. Why? Because it weighs on Percy's kindness, his conscience, his loyalty, his morals. It feels heavier. For Luke, it was a personal betrayal. For Nico, it would be a repeated failure that resulted in two deaths.

And I doubt Percy is fond of failures and deaths.

Do you know the saying that we tend to remember bad things rather than good memories? That. Failures stuck with us, whilst success paled in comparison (Not to mention the vague depiction of Percy's lost self-esteem, but I digress).

For Luke, it might be easier: the guy's now an enemy, Percy just had to put him down - straight and clear. For Nico, it's a little bit different. The kid's obviously an enemy - but he's also that: a kid. Whose sister died in front of Percy, whom he blamed still. You can tell that the setup itself might make it harder for Percy to just straight-up consider Nico an enemy - because as it was, Nico could very well be a victim of Percy's broken promise. Percy is half a reason he fell into the hands of Kronos - as you've said.

And Percy isn't evil. He's a protagonist and he's kind. His morals would prevent him from seeing Nico as an enemy that must be taken out - not before trying restlessly to bring the kid back.

- Percy aside, Hades’ support - and all the little benefits gained from Nico's side quest - should also be taken into account. Without Nico, there wouldn't be the Curse of Achilles. Without Nico, there would be no undead army rushing to save them in the last minute in the last Olympian, but rather a flock of unbeatable enemies that would persist like Nico’s grief for Bianca.

I wouldn't say that guarantees their failure but you have to admit that it would make things hella more difficult for them to win this war.

So that is for the advantages. Now let's talk about the drawbacks. Because obviously things wouldn't be so fun if everything goes that smoothly. 👍

The most noticeable difference between Luke and Nico is their ages, and further, their experiences. At the time he was chosen, Luke has lived until his 17, 18 as a demigod, has seen the mythological world more than Nico ever did. He would know better how to navigate the system, which would benefit Kronos more than a clueless Nico. You can argue that Kronos can properly train him as Minos did, but the fact remains that Luke has experiences that can only be gained through living, aging, and seeing.

On the same topic, after losing his sister, Nico was just a rage-driven, angry, lost 11-12-year-old kid. He could barely take care of himself. He obviously cannot govern and command an entire army. Luke, on the other hand, has many skills required to be a leader. I have talked about this once. He has the tongue, he has his charms, he's manipulative enough. As a tool and a weapon, Luke proves to be a better choice to be the pioneer of Kronos' revolution.

Of course, unless you need a puppet, in which case Nico proves to be a better choice. He was naive .he didn't know better. Luke try to resist because he saw how devastating his actions were/ would be. It should be much easier to fool a kid like Nico rather than an adult, thus limiting the chances of rebuke. I cannot recall exactly what Kronos was trying to do though, so I'll just leave this here.

The best method is of course to keep Luke while getting Nico ready, however, it would put kronos plans back a few years and I'm not really sure the guy would be that patient provided that he has been waiting thousand years to make a come back. So we will just leave it like that.

All in all, it's fun to think about a scenario in which the one whose contribution directly leads to their victory in the original series now becomes the main antagonist, the main reason they will likely fail. Thank you @smartichokes for the delightful idea!! 🥺🥺🥺

[nikos-oneshots]

Can you write a oneshot (headcanons are cool to) where the reader is the older Sibling of The Collector?(like same mental age as a highschooler) like during the end of season 2 where he is freed and they are reunited and its some fluffy Sibling time? also like angst bc it's the end of the world lol [I don't know if I have to clarify but this is meant to be platonic]

The Collector & A Sibling! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Owl House Spoilers Word Count: 1.4k Pronouns: Second Person Pov, Any Notes: This was supposed to be posted last night, but my computer did a fucky wucky and now I finally have a Fic being posted at a decent time! This was completed and edited before For The Future came out, so there may be some canon divergence, sorry about that! I hope you like it!

You sit uptop your mountain, the only place you have known for many years. You had made a life for yourself there, no matter how sad it may be. You feel lonely living day by day, year by year up on that lonely mountain top, but it's something you must do. You had been cursed, but not by an enemy, but by yourself. You have to stay alive for him, your little brother. You two were created from the stars above together, you two only had each other for as long as you could remember, but now, you have nobody and nothing. You had no idea where he went, but all you know is that he was gone. You had tried to search for him every day for the first 100 years he had been missing, but you had no luck, so reluctantly, you gave up. 

You felt like life was no longer worth living without the only person you felt gave your life meaning. You couldn't go back to the stars and you couldn't go to where the witches were, so you chose the next best thing, being to live alone in solidarity. The main reason why you chose that, is so that you could wait. You had a feeling that your little sibling would come back. You don't know from where, but deep down, you thought you knew he would come back. Maybe it was denial wishful thinking, but that didn't stop you from waiting for him. You knew that nobody would be able to stop, let alone destroy that little agent of chaos.

You passed the time as delightfully as it could be, as you picked up a hobby as watching the citizens of Bonesborough. Yea, it might be a little bit creepy, but what else was there to do. You got to know many of them quite nicely over the years, but the person that interested you the most was the Emperor of the land. He had a nice grip on the people of the city, but the part that made you interested in observing him is the fact that he hasn’t died yet. The general lifespan for a supposed witch is around 80-100 years, but from what you recall, you had been observing him for around 200. You wished to mess with him, since he seemed like not the best guy, but you swore off using your powers after those 100 years of searching for your brother. But soon, something would come that would cause your waiting to end.

You sat on your mountain as you normally would, your knees pressed to your chest. There was a big event that the Emperor was holding. You didn’t know the details, but the entire city was joining which was unusual. You watched as many different kinds of airships and robed individuals flooded into the area where it was headed. You had a bad feeling about this, you had considered leaving for elsewhere, but curiosity got the better of you, so you stuck around to see what was happening. Soon enough, the Emperor you got to know so well was projected to a larger scale across the arena and began to talk to the residents of the boiling isles. You sat up in your seat, glaring at his hologram with intent and interest. He gestures over to the almost-complete eclipse as his hologram fades away. 

You look over to your camp, where you would walk around every once in a while, the place you set up to be home. You considered leaving it to get a better seat, but you had been here for so many years. You figured that you would be back after it had ended, so you teleported over to the arena. You perched behind one of the large pillars around it, occasionally peaking around it to see what the Emperor was doing. You see multiple people enter a platform as they begin standing around in a circle as they soon begin to fight. You didn’t know what they were fighting over, but you were glad that you were able to watch something, since the Emperor hadn’t made his way up onto the platform yet.

You stared at the moon and the sun, they hadn’t crossed paths, but they were just about to. You decide to take a break from the fight and pay attention to the eclipse. You watch as it slowly rises to where the sun rests inch by inch intensely, you just wanted it to happen already so that this ceremony would get interesting, but when it did, all hell broke loose. A bright yellow light shines through every person to be seen as their screams echo the arena. What was happening? Would they be okay? You noticed that you weren’t affected which was weird, but maybe you could try and stop it? You didn’t want to give away your existence, but you also didn’t want to just stand there and do nothing. You look up to the eclipse and all the energy draining from the people all the way up to it, “That must be where the power is going…” You shush to yourself. 

You look to your hands, your weak hands that handled weak magic. You couldn’t move the moon, that was too much for you. You were made with more physical strength than magical, it would be nearly impossible to match the magical ability of any one of the stars above. The only person you knew that could potentially stop this would be your brother. His magical ability would be unmatched for anybody on the isles, even more powerful than their creator, but he was gone. The Isles were doomed to be taken over by the eclipse and the spell that made it act this way. You knew the moon and the sun when you were still residing in the stars above, and you know that they wouldn’t do anything to hurt the people of any of their planets, atleast, that's what you remember. The people were dying, and you couldn’t do anything to stop it and without the people here, you would be lonely again, much like you were 400 years ago.

Everything stops as fast as the snap of a finger as the moon is forcefully moved away from the sun. You looked up to the sky to see it turned from red, back to the calm orangish-blue you have come to love. You look around dumbfoundedly for the cause of such a miracle, but none was to be seen. Was that part of the plan? You assumed not, something or someone had to have done this and you certainly didn’t think it was The Emperor, finished playing a fun little prank on the isles, he wasn’t that powerful. There was only one person who you think could have done it. Your thinking was interrupted as your attention was drawn to a loud rumbling noise from behind you. You turn back to see the Emperor's castle being taken apart piece by piece as it begins floating in the air in a spiral pattern. You see something in the middle. You see someONE in the middle. 

You stumble as you walk towards the edge of the tower as you look up at them. It's him. You start to shed tears as you recognize the person. You jump off the tower as you teleport towards one of the floating rocks above the person. You watch as they spin and turn with joy as they continue destroying the land around them,. “COLLECTOR!” You shout at them. 

They seemed to recognize your voice, as they turned around to you quickly with a giant smile coating their face. “Y/N!” They should back as they forcefully gravitate you towards them, ending in a giant embrace. 

The Collector spun you around as they laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh too. Your brother hadn’t changed a bit, and you were so happy. This was it. This is what you had been waiting years, no, centuries for. You had spent that time looking for him, and you had finally found him. You were no longer lonely anymore, you had your family back. The world may be ending for the mortals down below, but you finally had the only person you had ever known back. Even though you had been looking over the people of the boiling isles for years, and even though you could see their fear and hear their screams, you suddenly didn’t care. You didn’t care if they were suffering, you didn’t care if they're home and families were dying, as long as you had your family back, it all didn’t matter.

Finally! A fic I didn't have to import to AO3! Tysm for the request! I had a lot of fun writing it!

Lots of Love -Niko🥞

[love-toxin]

does anyone else share the experience of watching one (1) well done edit on tiktok and suddenly becoming awash with the most foul, feral ideas? haha? no? :)

(cws: sprinklings of worshipper!eddie, f!angelface, crushes, sex in exchange for goods, drugs, casual hookup culture, some mentions of virginity, kind of an amateur/pro sex dynamic, eddie being a pussy-starved lil fiend)

bc i am absolutely tearing up my rug going crazy caveman feral for that good ol "sexin up ur drug dealer for free weed" with Eddie, except he brought up the idea first because he really, really, really wanted to sleep with you. you have a bit of a reputation for being.....loose, so to speak, and while Eddie certainly doesn't demand it, he does make a cheeky and almost meek offer that you end up taking cause why not? your life is more stressful than people think and a steady supply of free weed and somebody to smoke it with is worth a couple mediocre trips behind the barn every week. you won't even have to fake your orgasms cause you're sure he'll just be focused on getting himself off, he didn't say he was a virgin but that doesn't mean he wasn't when you first got together.

except even that first time is good. he's a little shaky but he's passionate, and he's rough but only in the good ways. he doesn't try to choke you without warning or leave bruises or other stuff, he just goes in hard and holds you like he doesn't wanna let you go. it's nice. and once he susses out what you like the best, he quickly figures out how to make you cum and soon he's doing it better than most of the other people you've been with. sometimes it's better than you can do it yourself, and it all stumps you as to how he's so unpopular--cause he's not that bad of a guy, either? he's nice, and he rolls your joints for you without you having to ask, and aside from being a little dorky and loud there's really not much about him that's any weirder than most people. although he's one of the very few who isn't afraid to show it, so you assume that's one of the reasons why he's such a target.

and him kinda being the whole package is kinda dangerous, honestly. because it becomes less and less about the weed really quick. before you know it you've moved on from fucking against a tree in the woods with your clothes still on, to meeting him at his place for something a little more comfortable, and staying overnight more and more often. you haven't even noticed that you haven't been going on dates or meeting people for hookups at all, and even when you consider it you end up steering well clear of it for some unknown reason. you just don't feel like you....need it, really? and even when you try, because it's not like you and Eddie are exclusive (far from it) it's just as mediocre as you remember putting up with and you end up slipping away early the next morning, your mind fuzzy with thoughts about how you wish you had spent that time with Eddie instead.

you know he wouldn't just tap in, tap out, and leave--he takes his time, he's sweet, he makes love to every part of you and he gets so adorably flustered when he realizes you haven't cum after awhile. Eddie buries his face between your thighs so much it's gone from a thrilling feeling to a natural one, the scrape of his stubble against your folds making you whimper and his soft lips sealing around your clit and sucking the way he does--it just pushes all other thought from your mind and makes you feel like a deity. he's the only guy you've ever let do it raw, the only one you can actually talk to after sex, and he's still the only one who loves giving you head so much that he doesn't stop until he's satisfied, and not just when you wiggle and moan his name a little in a performance to get him to come back up. he's needy and he gets a rush of strength when it comes to holding your thighs apart, one that makes you dizzy in the moment and gives you little finger-shaped bruises to admire in the mirror the morning after.

he's a little weird, sure, but....it's honestly kinda cute. he's always so eager and waiting so expectantly at the picnic table for you to show up, he looks over at you with those big doe eyes every time, and perks up whenever you say something of interest. he shamelessly talks to you at length about his own hobbies when you have an ear to listen, he gives you drives even when he's not asking for sex, he once came all the way out to the other side of town to pick you up and take you to the ER, all cause you got sick off of drinking and had been too scared to call your parents, so you called him--and oh my god, you didn't even realize the truth until now. Eddie Munson is fucking in love with you.

the offer of free drugs was just a guise, a coverup for the real reason he wanted to meet up with you more often. why he acts so interested in you even when your friends and everybody else at school pretends he doesn't even exist. why he treats you so kindly and sweetly and--like a girlfriend, he treats you like a girlfriend. he does things for you without asking for anything in return, and even though you don't kiss he's always distracted by your lips like he's got thoughts running through his head about what he wants to do to them. and if you told him you don't think you're that great, or cried about your problems, or just complained until you were practically shouting out your anger into the ground, Eddie would just pull you close and let you get it all out before he started to calm you down. reassure you that everything will turn out okay, because you're so amazing for so many reasons that you hadn't even noticed or thought about. he's in love with you, he's so in love with you it's painfully obvious and it's baffling to think that you haven't noticed for so long.

but therein lies the real question; do you assume that's really the truth, and confess to him hoping he'll admit his feelings? do you do the same just to realize you were projecting your own crush on him, and have to endure being ridiculed by the town freak and publicly shamed? or do you say nothing, act coy, and try to break things off so you don't have to deal with either of those circumstances? because while having your heart broken sucks, it's a feeling you're so familiar with that you know you can get through it--and on the flipside, you really don't know how to be in a relationship with someone so....genuine, so sincere, so unashamedly himself and who couldn't give a shit about what other people think of him. not like you, someone who can't leave the house without wondering whether you look pretty enough to not get made fun of, even just by your own friends. you can't help but think that someone like Eddie deserves better than a shallow person like that. like you.

so even though you know what you want deep down, and you'd like to indulge Eddie if it's really you he wants, you have to think long and hard about whether or not it's worth it to put your whole life on the line for some guy in the woods who lets you fuck him for free drugs. the guy you stay up late thinking about because you can't get that stupid, sweetly gentle grin out of your damn mind.

[bumblebeehug]

What do you think is the contents of Jude's gifts to Lucy? Any headcanons?

i'm a firm believer that he gifted her his only belongings from the Heartfilia-estate, and that the only things he brought were items from when Layla was alive. Jude was harsh, unfair, neglectant etc, but even though he wasn't a good father, i'd like to think he was a really great husband. after all, he was the one who was married into the Heartfilia name, not Layla. so when the company went down, he allowed for the entire estate, everything he owned, to be confiscated - everything but some keepsakings he kept from Layla: i'm thinking diaries, her favourite books, some family heirlooms, and other small but meaningfull trinkets.

(Longgggg analysis of their relationship below the cut)

I also think that Jude always meant to go through these things with Lucy. I think he had a flighty dream to reconcile with her, even if he only came to talk to her after he needed to loan money from her, even after sending Phantom Lord after her so he could marry her off to a wealthy business partner. Because despite all of the terrible things he had done, he wanted her to know all about the amazing mother she had. He wanted to show Lucy the exact shade of pink that was Layla's favourite (i'm bringing Nalu in here though bc coincidentally Layla's favourite shade of pink is the exact shade of Natsu's hair), he wanted to go to the market and point out the flowers she liked the most, he wanted to tell Lucy about all of their anecdotes, because after many years of lonliness, and after some time being unemployed, he had realised that he wanted Layla's image to be strong in Lucy's memories.

Then Jude would hear about the Tenrou accident, and though he wanted to believe that Lucy would pull through, he understood that it was unlikely. His daughter was dead, and he had been the worst father imaginable. His guilt was chewing through his sanity, but this time he decided to do something about it. He knew he might never get the actual chance to repair the relationship between him and Lucy, but the only way for him to keep going, was to repair it despite her not being there. So he, an old business man, created a new business, just so he could fund both his and his dead daughter's life. I don't think he ever made any extreme sums with the new company - he could pay for his own life, the monthly rent of Lucy's flat, and a bi-monthly cleaning of it, in case she came back. The cleaning was mainly for Jude's sake, since that was the way he could keep hope that she would come back, any time he visited.

He never earned enough money to live completely comfortable again - he often ended up grabbing free meals whenever he could, and if the rent at one place got too high, he didn't shy away from living on the streets until something reasonable came up again. He found ways to wash up and keep clean, and he kept his income, but he had it tough economically. he never lived in Lucy's flat either though, and he never even considered selling it.

When Lucy's birthday came around, he started writing letters. They contained all of the information about Layla that he could remember, which ended up being way more than he had anticipated. But he wrote the letters, and now, whenever he wasn't working, he was writing. As he wrote, he noticed that the letters started having matching items - in one he would mention a heirloom that had bothered Layla because of how hideous it was (and then he'd write about the stories of the people who had owned this heirloom and why it was important for the Heartfilia women to have), and another would be about him praising his wife's clothing style, and then there would be a package with some of her dresses in it.

Then the company started pulling its own weight and more, and he started putting away money for Lucy's landlady. First he just wanted to give the lady some cash so she could store the gifts until Lucy came back (he was aware that it was an if, and not when, but this was his way of healing, he argued), but then, as the company grew, he realised that he could pay Lucy's rent beforehand. Before he knew it, he was paying almost double of the cost of Lucy's rent, just so that the landlady could keep the apartment empty.

I don't think Jude ever felt like he had redeemed himself. I'm pretty sure he spent his last years deep in regret, and that he struggled with guilt and depression from both Layla's and Lucy's deaths - after all, he died not knowing that Lucy survived Tenrou. I've never loved Jude either - I think there's a limit to how much you should be allowed to put your child through, and Jude crossed that line not long after Layla died. He made insanely bad choices again and again regarding Lucy, and I don't think Lucy ever needed to forgive him.

But I think she did forgive him. I believe she sometimes finds resentment lingering in her memories that contain him, but that she reminds herself that his life wasn't a pretty one either. I think she's aware of the fact that he struggled on so many planes (mentally, socially) and that she's decided to let his image rest - she'll never go out of her way to defend him if his name is getting thrown around, but she'll never start a conversation just to bash on her late father. I think that she'll let him seem nice when her children hears about him, and she'll let the kids learn the full truth once they're old enough.

And lastly, I think she'll always be thankful of the gifts he gave her, and that she's greatful that he never stopped believeing that she was alive, and that he gave her such wonderful stories about her mother.

[qsphyxias]

ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇꜰᴜʟ, ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ! ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇꜰᴜʟ!

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you + pete are dating, and you're about to have the house all to yourselves— but peter has to wait to do so, and he gets impatient. basically.

warnings ; m! reader (he/him), cussing, suggestive, a bit unorganized, unedited so probably typos, you have parents (lol he doesn't), also tom's spiderman

note ; this was going to go so much more different than i wanted it to!! i wanted it to be like peter was texting you and he was outside your window and like, frustrated bc he did not know if you liked him, and then you told him to come over or something and idk WHAT IS THIS . inspidered by the song below

words ; 1.2k +

⊱ ───── {⋅𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕠𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 - 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤⋅} ───── ⊰

It was a nice, warm winter evening— or at least, it felt warm to Peter considering how much he was sweating that day. With a disgruntled string of curses, Peter whipped out his phone as he balanced himself on a lamp post, ready to text Ned and ask him if he remembered how to turn on the air conditioning in his suit.

Despite the gross feeling of his suit sticking to his thighs and pits, Peter continued to hesitate on sending that shameful text message. Not because it was the middle of December, or how Peter could not (or would not) tell Ned the very irrational reason why he needed those puffs of air in his suit— no, it was because of love, that's why! That's why he was sitting on a lamppost, worriedly watching you outside your house awaiting your incoming text message.

"God, I sound like an idiot. Oh god, I probably look like an idiot too." Peter grumbled, with his hands resting on his face and fingers set strategically, so he'd still be able to see through them, and into your bedroom window. Not creepy at all, no.

Before you harshly judge Peter's actions, (and rightfully so,) let it be known why he was doing it in the first place!

Just a couple of minutes ago, you two were texting (passionately)—as hormonal teenage boys do—until all of a sudden, you sent the following;

"My parents are about to leave to go check out some real estate property. They probably won't be back until 10 PM, at the earliest— wanna come over? I've gotta beat someone at Smash Bros."

What!? Peter was ecstatic, he was just about ready to go—having already slung on his pants and T-shirt with his webbing with one hand as he watched his phone screen with the other, like a hawk.

"Oh but, maybe wait a couple of minutes because my mom lost her phone and she'll probably take a few. I'll get you back with an update."

Nooooooooooo!

Oh, you. You... Evil, teasing, handsome, mischievous, terrifying you. If only you knew what you had just unleashed.

Despite your friendly reminder that Peter had to wait before he could smash you- I mean, play Smash with you, he did not care. Instead, he decided that a couple of minutes in the cold, waiting outside your room would be nothing to the spectacular Spider-man.

Also, because he made a giant webby mess in his room and he did not want to be home when Aunt May sees it.

And now we're back here; back to Peter sitting and waiting out on a lamppost, alone, and sweaty in the cold—which was ironic because he thought that his major problem of today would be the weather, not his hormones. He thought the latter would come easy, and oh boy, to say it did not.

"Ugh, come on S/o's mom! Find your damn phone already!" Peter moped as he watched your mom roam your room, searching for her phone helplessly—

—until, he saw it.

Her phone! Peter near jumped off the lamp post to try and catch your attention and point at the phone resting on the window sill, until he luckily realized that that was not a good idea.

Instead, Pete opted for whipping his phone out, texting furiously with his cold, but clammy fingers. "S/O!!! TELL YOUR MOM TO CHECK ON YOUR WINDOW SILL!!!!"

Wait, no, try again.

"Hey, you know I lost my phone last week and I actually ended up finding it on my window sill hahah, maybe check there?"

Nice and smooth.

Peter internally high-fived himself as he watched you pick up your phone from his angle. Followed by your sudden diversion of your attention to your window, then your gasp, and then your funny reaction of rapidly pointing at your window sill like a crazy person, where your mom's phone rested. With a relieved smile, your mom kissed you on your cheek and waved you goodbye, to which you turned red and—to Peter's dismay—closed the curtains. Gee, looks like you really hoped no one saw that exchange of mom kisses.

"Fuck!" Well this sucks. Now Peter can't watch you from your window like a— Ding!

A notification from you! Hooray! Who cares about the window, now he'll get to see the real thing!

"Thanks for the tip, bro! turns out her phone was in the exact location you just sent me— isn't that funny? Anyway, she's leaving soon, so you should probably start getting ready to leave."

Peter sighed, "If only he knew."

The familiar sound of an engine revving up caused Peter to perk up, now paying attention to the car that just pulled out your driveway which could be no other than your parents. Mission complete, Peter could now take action and tame his hormonal tendencies.

"All clear!" You quickly sent him, thinking there was no possible way he was as excited as you were-

Until a knock interrupted your thoughts.

You opened the door, shocked at the sweaty man you saw before you. "Peter?"

"Hi." With a smile like that, you could never have known he had just stripped himself naked and stuffed his suit into his backpack in seconds flat, prior to meeting you.

"But I just sent you the message? How did you get here so fast?" You laughed exasperatedly, ushering him in quickly before your parents could come back and kick him out.

"Love... finds a way?" He chuckled awkwardly, hoping he wouldn't have to explain his stalker-ish tendencies.

You could only shake your head, and laugh as you wasted no more time to pounce on him, letting him pick you up and bring you to the room he was just staring into not long ago. "Wow, strong too." You commented, to which he reacted bashfully.

You patted him on the arm, signalling your desire to descend from the soft pillows Pete calls his biceps. "Okay, this is getting demeaning— put me down."

The bed gave a good tiny bounce as you both settled onto the bed, with you getting comfortable just sitting on his chest. ""Love finds a way," huh?" Peter could only shrug, "Yup." not wanting to say anymore.

"So you love me?" You paraphrased his once thought-through quote, and replaced it with "disastrous gay blurbs."

"Love? Oh, did I say love?- I just meant- I mean, if you want- but I thought we were at the "like-like" stage? But I mean, if you're uncomfortable I can totally just-"

You interrupted him with a cackle, "Like-like stage? You did not just say that." A deadpan expression rested upon your features, something that screamed, "You are better than that." —causing Peter to flush even more than before. "Shut up." He muttered dejectedly, flopping face-first into your pillows. "I thought you were actually offended!" his words were muffled, but the true embarrassment laced in his words still came through.

In your defence, "I was!"

"No, you weren't," Peter corrected, "No, I wasn't." You repeated.

"You're mean." He stated, getting up from his fetal position and throwing one of your pillows at you. "But you love me." You reminded, a shit-eating grin decorating your features, laughing before getting a mouthful of pillow and suddenly, not laughing anymore.

"Correction, I "like-like" you." Peter climbed on top of you, you who had been pillow-beaten to death. "Ugh, back to the "like-like" stage, so much worse than the bro stage!" You feigned despair, a ghost of a smile still peaking through your grimace.

It only took seconds for Peter to make the decision he usually has trouble with— the decision to kiss you.

And let's just say, thank god your parents decided to overnight it at the real estate building.

⊱───── ❝ thank you for reading! ❞ ─────⊰