#i wonder if anyone can take a wild guess who it might be about

[rainyrindou]

*cracks knuckles* i’m writing a drabble.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Textual Tension

Summary: You accidentally send a very suggestive text to your awkward coworker, and he replies...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, awkward tension

Word count: 6.1k

a/n: has anyone ever sent a sext to the wrong person?? i've only ever sent them to my friends on accident and for that i am so thankful

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving), mild breast play, soft dom spencer

You sit on your bed, the soft glow of your phone illuminating your face as you type out a rather suggestive message to the person you've been casually hooking up with. A smirk tugs at your lips as you hit send, confident that the message will hit its mark. 

I've been thinking about you… Can't stop imagining what I'd do if you were here right now. I want to feel your hands all over me, the way you’d make me moan… Let’s make fantasy a reality?

But within seconds, your heart stops as you realize the terrible mistake you've just made.

You’ve sent the message to Spencer.

Spencer.

Your coworker. The brilliant, kind, and awkwardly charming genius who you’ve always had a friendly, professional relationship with. And, of course, the one who has been harboring a massive, secret crush on you. A fact that, unbeknownst to you, has led to countless daydreams and wishes that you might feel the same.

The blood drains from your face as you stare at your phone, horrified, praying that somehow the message didn’t actually go through, or maybe, just maybe, Spencer won’t read it and will simply delete it. But you know better—Spencer is meticulous about everything. Of course, he’ll read it. You’re absolutely mortified, every worst-case scenario flashing through your mind.

Meanwhile, in his apartment, Spencer is settling down with a cup of tea, ready to dive into the book he’s been reading. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up absentmindedly, assuming it’s just a work-related message or something mundane. But as he reads the words on the screen, his eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat.

His thoughts run wild, heart pounding as he rereads the text, each time wondering if it could possibly be real. Could you, the person he’s admired from afar for so long, actually want him in the way he’s secretly yearned for? The idea is intoxicating, and before he can second-guess himself, he responds with a message that matches your energy, his pulse quickening at the boldness of it.

Wow… I didn’t know you were into me like that. I’ve been thinking about you too. If you want, we can definitely make that happen.

The moment you see his reply, your stomach drops. You can't believe this is happening. You’re completely mortified, your mind spinning with the implications. How could you ever face him again? You don’t respond, the fear and embarrassment paralyzing you, leaving you in a state of panic.

The next day at work, you’re a bundle of nerves. Every step you take towards the bullpen feels like you’re walking to your own doom. When you finally arrive, you try to act normal, but the tension is palpable. You can’t even bring yourself to make eye contact with Spencer, every interaction feeling like it’s laced with the humiliation of last night’s mistake.

Spencer, on the other hand, is caught in a whirlwind of emotions. At first, he’s elated, thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance you were into him. But as the day drags on and you remain distant, the excitement turns to confusion, then a sharp sting of rejection. Did he misread the situation? Was it all just a mistake? He’s left feeling awkward and exposed, unsure of where he stands with you now.

—

The tension between you and Spencer had become a nearly tangible thing, a thread pulled taut between the two of you, ready to snap at any moment. At first, your glances in his direction were purely out of necessity—quick, fleeting looks to gauge his mood, to see if he was as affected by this as you were. But as the days passed, those glances became more frequent, more lingering.

It started innocently enough. You’d look over and notice how effortlessly his hair seemed to fall into place, the soft waves framing his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal. You’d never paid much attention before, but now you couldn’t help but admire how it suited him, how it added to his charm.

Then, it was his forearms. You’d catch him pushing up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, revealing the sinewy strength beneath the fabric. There was something about the casual way he did it, the way the muscles in his arms flexed ever so slightly as he worked, that made your heart skip a beat. It was such a simple thing, but it had a profound effect on you, stirring something deep within.

And then there was the way he licked his lips when he was focused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated on whatever task was in front of him. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have his attention focused solely on you, to feel the intensity of that gaze as he looked at you, not with confusion or uncertainty, but with desire.

The more you noticed these little things, the more conflicted you became. This was Spencer—sweet, brilliant, and awkward Spencer. The idea of seeing him in a different light had never really crossed your mind before, but now… now it was all you could think about. The memory of his bold response to your accidental text played on a loop in your mind, taunting you with the possibilities.

What if you responded? What if you stopped overthinking everything and just… saw where it could go? The idea terrified you, but it also excited you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something thrilling about the thought of exploring this new dynamic, of seeing if there was something more between you and Spencer than just a shared workspace.

You found yourself daydreaming about it, wondering how he would react if you sent him a message, if you matched the energy of his reply. Would he be as nervous as you were, or would he surprise you with a confidence you hadn’t seen before? The thought of it made your pulse quicken, a flush of warmth spreading through you.

But with the excitement came doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if you were reading too much into things, and responding to his text would only make the situation worse? The fear of making things awkward again, of possibly ruining your work life further, held you back. Yet, the thought of doing nothing felt like a missed opportunity, like you were letting something potentially amazing slip through your fingers.

As the day dragged on, you found it harder and harder to focus on your work. Every time you saw Spencer, every time you noticed another little detail about him that you hadn’t before, the urge to reach out grew stronger. It was like there was a tug-of-war going on inside you, with one side urging you to take the risk and see what could happen, and the other holding you back out of fear.

Finally, as the workday was winding down, you made a decision. Maybe you were overthinking this—maybe it was time to just go for it and see what came of it. After all, Spencer had responded positively, hadn’t he? There was a chance, a real chance, that he felt something for you too, something more than just a workplace friendship.

Sitting on your couch with your heart pounding in your chest, you pulled out your phone, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you debated what to say. You didn’t want to be too forward, but you also didn’t want to be vague. After a few moments of contemplation, you typed out a message, your hands trembling slightly as you reread it.

Hey, about that text… Maybe we should talk. Or… you know, not just talk. If you’re still interested.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as you watched the message deliver. There was no going back now.

The rest of the evening was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. You couldn’t stop thinking about what his response might be, what it could mean for the two of you. When your phone finally buzzed with a new message, you hesitated for just a moment before opening it.

I’m definitely interested. Let’s talk… or not just talk, whenever you’re ready.

The words were simple, but they held so much promise. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read them, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding your senses. This was happening. You and Spencer were about to cross a line, to explore something new and thrilling.

Just as you were contemplating what to say, how to navigate this sudden and unexpected turn in your relationship, another notification lit up your screen.

Come over? Now?

The message was short, simple, and completely electrifying. It sent a jolt through your system, leaving you momentarily speechless. The implications of it were clear—Spencer wasn’t just thinking about this; he was ready to act on it, to turn this accidental confession into something real and immediate.

Your mind raced as you considered what to do next. Just minutes ago, you were agonizing over whether or not to even respond, and now he was inviting you over, as if the decision had already been made. The sheer boldness of his message left you breathless, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like—showing up at his place, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you all day. The thought of being alone with him, of crossing that line from coworkers to something more, sent a thrill through you.

You took a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was a pivotal moment, and whatever you decided now would set the course for what happened next.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of internal debate, you typed out a response, your heart racing as you hit send.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

—

You parked outside Spencer’s apartment building, your heart racing as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. The 20-minute drive had been filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—excitement, anticipation, and a lingering thread of uncertainty. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you arrived, especially considering how different Spencer had seemed over text compared to how he usually was in person. The Spencer you knew was shy, adorably awkward, and hesitant when it came to personal matters. But his texts had shown a side of him that was bold, confident, and unafraid to take charge.

As you approached his door, your nerves started to get the better of you, but there was no turning back now. You lifted your hand to knock, hesitating for just a moment before finally letting your knuckles rap against the wood. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity, your mind racing with possibilities of how this night could unfold.

When the door finally opened, you were taken aback by the sight that greeted you. Spencer stood there, shirtless, the soft glow of his apartment’s light highlighting the lean lines of his torso. He wore nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants, the waistband slung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the defined muscles and trail of hair beneath. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it moments before opening the door, and his eyes, usually filled with a mix of curiosity and gentle kindness, now held a smoldering intensity that you had never seen before.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. This wasn’t the Spencer you were used to—this was the man who had responded to your accidental text with a confidence that had both surprised and intrigued you. The awkward, hesitant Spencer you knew seemed to have taken a backseat, making way for someone who knew exactly what he wanted.

And what he wanted, it seemed, was you.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched your reaction. There was a heat in his gaze, a silent challenge that dared you to step inside, to see just how far this newfound confidence could take him.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad you came.”

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts, but the sight of him standing there like that—so effortlessly confident, so unapologetically enticing—made it difficult to think of anything but the rush of desire that was quickly building within you.

“Hey,” you managed to reply, your voice a little breathless. “You… uh, look different.”

Spencer’s smile widened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped aside to let you in. “Well I should hope so,” he said, his tone teasing, but with an underlying seriousness that sent your heart racing even faster.

You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of his apartment wrap around you as the door clicked shut behind you. The atmosphere between you was charged, electric, every moment filled with unspoken possibilities. Spencer moved closer, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. The scent of him—a mix of something clean and masculine—filled your senses, making you even more acutely aware of the heat radiating from his skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” Spencer began, his voice soft yet steady, as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “About what was said...”

Your breath hitched at the light touch, your skin tingling where his fingers had just been. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid that your voice might betray just how much his presence was affecting you.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “But I also don’t want to pretend that nothing’s changed… because it has.”

He was right—everything had changed. The air between you was thick with tension, with the unspoken acknowledgment of what you both wanted but were too nervous to voice. And yet, here he was, standing so close, shirtless and confident, laying it all out in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you finally found your voice. “So… what happens next?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up into a small, almost mischievous smile. “I think that depends on what you want.”

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation all at once. You could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction drawing you closer to him, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back.

With a boldness you hadn’t known you possessed, you stepped even closer, your body nearly brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “I want to find out what happens when we stop pretending.”

The last remnants of hesitation melted away as Spencer’s smile turned into something more—something hungry and determined. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips descended on yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was fierce, consuming, a release of all the tension that had been building between you.

As his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer still, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you had only begun to scratch the surface of the side of Spencer Reid you were about to discover tonight.

The world around you blurred as Spencer’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with every passing second. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you lost yourself in the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the way his hands gripped your waist with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. It felt like you had been kissing for an eternity, and yet when he finally pulled back, you found yourself gasping for breath, your mind spinning, and your body aching for more.

Spencer’s eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken. Without saying a word, he took your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, leading you down the hall towards his bedroom. The anticipation thrummed in your veins, every step heightening the tension between you. But just as you reached the doorway, Spencer suddenly stopped, turning to press you against the doorframe. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses that made your knees weaken and your breath hitch.

You barely had time to process the sensation before he pulled back again, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gently but firmly guided you into the bedroom. With a swift motion, he pushed you onto the bed, and you bounced slightly, a surprised giggle escaping your lips. The unexpected shift in his demeanor—this newfound confidence, this playful dominance—left you both intrigued and a little off-balance. You’d known Spencer as the quiet, reserved, and somewhat shy genius, but this side of him was something entirely different, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it.

As you lay there, still trying to wrap your head around this change, you found yourself blurting out a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Do you do this a lot, Reid?”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. He shook his head with a smile that was equal parts reassuring and teasing. “No, not ever really,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady, as he reached for your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your legs. His hands rested on your thighs, the warmth of his touch seeping through your clothes, grounding you in the moment.

“Call me Spencer,” he added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was something intimate about the way he said it, as if this wasn’t just about physical attraction, but about letting you see a side of him that no one else had. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the request, the simple act of calling him by his first name in this context making the moment feel even more personal, more real. 

“Spencer,” you repeated, the name slipping from your lips like a secret, a promise. His smile widened, a spark of something almost wicked flashing in his eyes, and you realized that you were about to discover a side of him that you’d never imagined existed.

Spencer leaned in, his hands sliding up your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, you know. I just never thought…” He trailed off, as if realizing that words weren’t enough to express what he was feeling. Instead, he captured your lips with his again, his kiss searing and insistent, as though he were making up for lost time.

Spencer's hands, warm and steady, slowly trailed up your sides, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of your t-shirt as they moved. When he reached the hem, he hesitated, his touch gentle but deliberate as he curled his fingers around the edge. He looked up at you, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness, but there was something else too—a careful consideration, a need to ensure that you were just as willing as he was.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, his eyes searching yours for the reassurance he needed.

For a moment, you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to respond, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, with such raw want and yet so much care, made it hard to think clearly. You nodded quickly, your eyes wide with anticipation, but Spencer didn’t move.

His grip on your shirt tightened slightly as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to need you to use your words, sweetheart.”

The way he said it—his voice rough, almost gritted out with barely restrained desire—made your head spin, the sheer force of his need for you sending your pulse into overdrive. There was a command in his tone, but also a gentle reminder that this was your choice, that he needed to hear you say it.

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to find the words. The air around you felt thick with tension, every second stretching out as you stared up at him, the look in his eyes making it impossible to deny him—or yourself.

“Ye—yes, please,” you finally managed to say, your voice a little breathless, but full of the same want that you saw reflected in his eyes.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with satisfaction at your response, a small, almost predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he began to lift your shirt. The fabric slid up your torso slowly, the cool air of the room hitting your skin as he revealed more of you. He took his time, savoring the moment, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside.

For a brief moment, you felt exposed, vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. But the way Spencer looked at you, with a mixture of awe and hunger, made all your insecurities melt away. His hands roamed over the newly exposed skin, his touch both soothing and electrifying, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity and desire, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your collarbone, his lips lingering against your skin.

You had forgone a bra that night, thinking nothing of it when you slipped into your comfy clothes after a long day at work. After all, you hadn’t planned on anything like this happening. But now, with Spencer’s hands on you, his eyes filled with something that looked a lot like awe, you found that you didn’t care in the slightest. If anything, it added to the intimacy of the moment, the rawness of it, making you feel closer to him than you ever thought possible.

His touch was slow, deliberate, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every reaction he elicited from you. His fingers brushed over your skin, exploring you with curiosity and desire, as if he was trying to learn every detail, every response, to what he was doing. When his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips, your body arching towards him instinctively, craving more of his touch.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it felt like a confession. There was something in his name, in the way it rolled off your tongue, that made the moment feel even more intimate, more real. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was a declaration, an acknowledgment of what was happening between you, of the connection that was quickly forming.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back up to yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. There was something almost primal in the way he looked at you now, a hunger that was barely restrained, but also a tenderness that made your chest tighten with emotion. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this… how long I’ve wanted you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the sheer weight of them. It wasn’t just lust in his voice—it was something deeper, something that made you feel cherished, desired in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The realization that Spencer had been holding back, that he had wanted you for so long, made your heart swell with emotion, your need for him growing even stronger.

He kissed you again, his lips capturing yours in a way that was both gentle and demanding, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. Each touch, each caress, was filled with passion and care, as if he was trying to show you just how much you meant to him without needing to say the words. And with every kiss, every brush of his fingertips, you found yourself falling deeper into the moment, your own desire for him becoming overwhelming.

You reached up, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat of his body against yours. The way he responded, the way his hands gripped you tighter, as if afraid to let go, made it clear that he was just as lost in the moment as you were. There was no more hesitation, no more awkwardness—just the two of you, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Spencer’s hands were warm against your skin as he gently laid you back on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above you. The intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability. His fingers trailed down your sides, the touch sending shivers through your body as he slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest.

“Tell me, Y/N…” His voice was a low murmur, filled with an edge of something deeper, as he kissed his way down your chest, taking his time, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his lips. “Did you think about me too?”

The question hung in the air, making your breath hitch as you squirmed beneath him, the sensation of his kisses igniting a fire deep within you. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body on high alert as you felt his breath ghost over your skin, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“I did,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless as the confession slipped out. It was the truth, after all—you had thought about him, more than you ever wanted to admit. The idea of Spencer, sweet, awkward Spencer, being the one to push you to this point had always been a secret fantasy, buried deep within you. But now, with him here, in this moment, it was no longer just a fantasy—it was real.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin as he reached your hip, his teeth nipping playfully at the delicate flesh, making you gasp. The sensation was a mix of pleasure and surprise, and you couldn’t help but arch your back slightly in response. His hands moved to your shorts, his fingers hooking into the waistband as he tugged them down slowly, teasingly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he did.

“That text wasn’t for me though, was it?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he watched your reaction. The smirk on his face was something you’d never seen before—confident, almost cocky, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. You hadn’t expected him to catch on to that detail, but of course he had—Spencer was nothing if not observant. The thought that he knew the text wasn’t meant for him, but was still here, still wanting you, made your pulse quicken even more.

“Uh, no, it wasn’t,” you admitted with a whine, the words slipping out before you could stop them. There was no point in lying—not when he was looking at you like that, his gaze full of heat and understanding. “But I’m glad I sent it to you,” you added quickly, your voice filled with sincerity and a hint of desperation.

Spencer’s smirk softened into a small, almost tender smile as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your navel. “Maybe your subconscious wanted you to,” he suggested, his voice low and smooth, each word making your head spin. The idea made you dizzy, the thought that some part of you had always wanted this, had always wanted him, even if you hadn’t fully realized it until now.

“Uh huh,” you breathed out, your voice floaty and airy, your mind clouded with desire. The sensation of his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, was intoxicating, making it hard to think clearly. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel—alive, wanted, and completely lost in the moment.

Spencer’s fingers continued to work on removing your shorts, sliding them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something almost worshipful in the way he touched you, as if he was savoring every second, every inch of skin he revealed.

As he finally discarded your shorts, leaving you completely exposed to him, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and admiration. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

The words made your heart swell, a wave of warmth washing over you as you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was nothing left to hide now, nothing left to hold back. This was exactly where you wanted to be—where you were meant to be.

“Do you always skip out on bras and panties, Y/N?” Spencer’s teasing comment sent a ripple of laughter through you, the sound mingling with the rapid beat of your heart. The playful banter between you only intensified the electric connection that was already sparking between you both. His bite on your inner thigh was both a tease and a promise, igniting a fire that made every nerve in your body come alive.

“N–no, only at home,” you managed to scream out, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The combination of his touch and the vulnerability of the moment made it impossible to hold back any longer.

He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, echoing softly in the room as his fingers continued to explore your skin. “But you didn’t put any on before coming over?” His tone was light, yet there was an undeniable edge of desire that underpinned his words.

You took a moment to catch your breath, the playful challenge in his eyes urging you to respond. “Are you–are you complaining?” you asked, your voice wavering between breathless laughter and the growing urgency of your emotions.

Spencer shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not at all, although–” His sentence was cut short as your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him fully into you. The sudden, decisive movement left no room for hesitation, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace.

“Oh my god, Spencer, just shut up,” you laughed, the sound filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Put your mouth to use.”

His response was immediate, his lips finding your core with a fervor that matched the intensity of your own longing. The way he ate you out was everything you had been waiting for—passionate, deep, and downright filthy. His hands left their place on your thighs, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that made you feel both cherished and desired.

As he sunk his mouth deeper, sucking your clit into his mouth, Spencer guided you gently but firmly onto the bed, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between you.

“Spencer,” you moaned, the name slipping out like a sacred vow, sealing the moment between you. His response was a dirty smile, his mouth shining with your juices, making your pulse throb.

He paused for a moment, just enough to look into your eyes, “You’re fucking delicious,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

As Spencer’s mouth continued to work its magic on your core, a whirlwind of sensations overwhelmed you. Each touch, each stroke of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but the intense feeling of being completely consumed by him. The way he moved, so skilled yet so attentive to your every reaction, left you breathless, your hands clutching at the sheets as your head swam in a sea of ecstasy.

But amidst the pleasure, a fleeting thought crossed your mind—how close you had come to letting this moment, this incredible opportunity, slip through your fingers. You couldn’t believe that you had almost dismissed the idea of responding to his bold text, that you had almost let fear and hesitation keep you from experiencing this side of Spencer. A side that was confident, passionate, and utterly devoted to your pleasure.

How could you have been so close to missing out on this? On him? Spencer, who had always been there, quiet and thoughtful, had somehow managed to unlock a part of you that you hadn’t even known existed—a part that craved the connection and intimacy he was now offering with every caress of his lips.

You let out a soft moan, your hips arching towards him as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. The sounds you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulled you closer, his tongue working with a precision that left you teetering on the edge. Every nerve in your body was alive, the world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you, the heat of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer,” you gasped out, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. It wasn’t just the pleasure he was giving you—it was the realization that this was Spencer, the man you had known for so long, who was now showing you a depth of care and passion that you had never imagined.

The way he responded to your every movement, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, made you feel cherished in a way that went far beyond the physical. It was as if he was attuned to your very soul, using his touch to communicate something deeper, something that had been building between you for far longer than either of you had realized.

As you felt the tension within you coil tighter and tighter, ready to snap, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you had fallen into this moment with him. All the hesitation, the uncertainty, had melted away, leaving only the pure, unfiltered connection between you and Spencer. A connection that had been there all along, waiting for the right moment to be brought to life.

And now that it had, you knew you could never go back to the way things were. Spencer had opened a door to something new, something beautiful, and you were ready to step through it with him, no matter what the future held.

With a final, skillful flick of his tongue over your clit, Spencer sent you tumbling over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your release. The world around you seemed to dissolve into a haze of pleasure and warmth, your mind barely able to process the overwhelming sensations that flooded through you.

As you came down from the high, Spencer’s hands and mouth softened, his touch becoming gentle, almost reverent, as he coaxed you through the aftershocks. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a sincerity that left no doubt about how much this moment meant to him. He crawled up the bed to join you, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in a slow, languid kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips.

You smiled against his lips, a sense of contentment and excitement washing over you as you whispered, “I’m glad I’m here too, Spencer. So glad.”

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[webslingingslasher]

Unknown Sender

happy valentine's day!

MONDAY: 13:52 

‘hi.’ Peter squints at the message, then the unsaved number. He's not sure how, but it’s a scam. 

‘i’d like to have your attention, please.’ Peter rolls his eyes, swiping left to not only delete but report the number as junk. No doubt it was a bot or someone with a flair for sextortion. 

A new number. ‘that was actually so rude of you, parker.’ 

‘unblock me right now.’ 

Peter shifts in his seat, he does a slow look around the room and finds nothing off putting or alarming. 

‘Who is this?’ 

Green bubbles pop up. ‘unblock me and i’ll tell you.’ Peter was right to guess about extortion. Another swipe, blocked and reported. Peter wasn’t participating in any games. 

A new number. ‘oh, now you’re just being cute.’ 

Peter feels his heart pick up a bit, it’s a tad threatening and now he’s overthinking it a little. What if someone has it out for him? Is there a mark on his back? ‘Please leave me alone.’ 

‘no.’ 

‘can we play 21 questions?’ 

Peter’s face scrunches up, he spins his head around one more time, someone is fucking with him. He has no clue who has time for something like that in university, but he’s not a willing participant anymore, not since high school. 

‘Leave me alone. Go torment a freshman.’ 

‘i don’t like freshmen. i like you.’ Peter chews at his bottom lip, there was a second of hesitancy but he knows the truth deep down. ‘I’m blocking you.’ 

‘sure. i’ll keep texting you, too.’ 

‘I’ll change my number.’ 

‘noooo please don’t do that. i had to work hard enough to get it the first time.’ Peter doesn’t respond. He blocks the number and moves on, and they don’t try to text him again.

Until the next day and Peter knows two things for certain. There is a note in his backpack, and it wasn’t there before his econ lecture. He remembers pulling that pocket open before he started notes, then when he went to zip it up, a note. 

This upsets him. What good was any sense when someone could get that unnoticeably close to him without him knowing? Second, it’s a little frustrating not to know who this person is and how it most likely is connected to the texts he had a few days ago, and that it’s an extremely long played joke that’s mostly boring. 

‘Peter Parker- 

You’ve been secretly admired. It might not be very secret, because I think you’ve caught me staring at you a thousand times. I like you a lot. 

Hopefully liked back, 

-X’ 

But a part of him believes it’s true. He’s trying to think of who’s in his lecture, if he’s caught them staring then they’re either to the side or behind him. There are too many faces, too many times he’s been looked at, he’s almost centered, it’s his fault for choosing a focal point. 

Instead of throwing it away, he refolds the pink handwriting and puts it back into place before hitching a strap over his shoulder and sliding behind chairs. One, two steps up he glances at your face, you have a weak smile, he returns the same kind, it’s more like a polite nod. Peter’s always thought you were pretty and he thinks you're nice. 

But really, he’s wondering who left the note. 

10:30

‘did you get my note?’ Peter does his normal scan across campus, again, his fault for being out in the open. This person could be anywhere, he’s on a picnic bench with a group of friends. If he’s smart, he’d start limiting himself to contained spaces and make you show yourself. 

‘Yeah. Who is this?’ Peter’s thumbs dance around the screen waiting for a reply, it comes quick. ‘i told you. x.’ He stops himself from rolling his eyes, he doesn’t know anyone with an ‘X’ anywhere in their name. 

‘Is that an initial?’ 

‘actually, i’m pretty sure it’s british for kiss.’ 

‘That’s a wild take. Are you saying the UK is responsible for XOXO’s?’ 

‘i’d like to make you responsible for my xoxo’s.’ Peter chews his bottom lip, he won’t play into anything in writing. He doesn’t believe this for a second, everything about this feels off. Someone’s fucking with him and they’re also in his class, or they have someone in on it in his class. 

But this is too advanced.

‘sorry. i don’t mean to like harass you or anything. you’re really hot but you scare me, i don’t think you would like me so idk, maybe if you talk to me you’d like me for me or something.’ 

‘i just think i’m punching wayyyy above my weight class here and i may be making this worse because there is no doubt you think im weird.’ 

‘i am weird. i should leave you alone now. i’m sorry.’ 

Peter reads his screen four times, it’s still not clicking. He’s nothing special and he doesn’t mean that in a way to dog on himself, he’s just nerdy and quiet. It seems a little too authentic to be fake, but he’s got to make sure. 

‘How’d you get my number?’ 

‘your friend. they have been sworn to secrecy but they know what i’m doing and they are in full support. take that as you will.’ 

‘Depends on the friend.’ 

‘i’ll tell you when you find out who i am.’ 

‘I’m going to find out? You’re not going to tell me?’ 

‘i don’t think i’ve been hiding it. you just haven’t been paying attention and now i want you to.’ 

‘Oh, but you’re shy?’ 

‘i’m about to pass out on the lawn behind this fucking screen, don’t play with me parker.’ A slip, you’re around him and you just admitted it. ‘Tell me, admirer, what are you wearing?’ The more detail the better, but he could work off of just a color. 

‘nice try. but you’re looking mighty handsome in the blue.’ A glance down, he suddenly feels watched. ‘Are you stalking me?’ 

‘oh no! no no no. i PROMISE you i’m not that fucking psychotic.’

‘i’m just a “sneak a note into your backpack” level of crazy. i’m here with my roommate and her boyfriend. i saw you and just wanted to know if you got it, i promise.’ 

‘You do understand that this situation makes you seem psychotic, right?’ 

‘yes. but i am not.’ 

‘That sounds like something a crazy person who got my number from a third party would say. Especially after I blocked you six times.’ 

‘it was three and you didn’t understand my intentions but okay. you have a fair point and i extend the olive branch of brett. he gave me your number and he knows me pretty well.’ 

Brett? Easy enough, he nods his head towards him and slides his phone across the table. “Explain.” His friend scrolls through the thread, a trustworthy smile spreads. “Yeah, I gave her your number.” Her. Okay, it’s something. “Who is she?” Brett shrugs, “you know her. She’s kind of a firecracker, you just make her nervous.” 

“That gives me nothing, Brett.” His friend blinks, “she’s not crazy. She likes you a lot for whatever fucking reason and has no idea how to approach you.” Peter’s letting his words soak in, “don’t believe me? Ask her about the grilled cheese, and make sure you tell her that I told you about how she went on for five fucking minutes about the grilled cheese.” 

“What grilled cheese?” Brett slides Peter’s phone back, he’s telling him to ask you. Something tells Peter it’s enough to embarrass, or it might be Brett being the ultimate wingman.

‘I’ve been told to ask you about the grilled cheese.’ 

‘oh god. there is no need to ask about the grilled cheese, did brett tell you about the grilled cheese?’ 

‘He told me to ask you. And to specify that you went on for five minutes about it.’ 

‘five is excessive, it was more like three. second, there is nothing to speak about.’ 

‘I would like to hear about it.’ 

‘i’d prefer if you didn’t.’ 

‘But you’ll do it for me?’ 

‘i’m weak for you and you know it. it’s sicking, parker.’ 

‘i heard you talking about making one in class and you said something about the crust and i really fucking love grilled cheese’s so i had a trip to fantasy land where you made me one and how it’s probably the best thing i’ll never get to taste.’ 

‘Wow. Five whole minutes on that?’ Peter won’t admit it made him feel a little warm on the inside, the most mundane of things to have someone so squirrely makes him feel unworthy. 

‘three.’ 

‘Tell me who you are and I’ll make you a grilled cheese.’ 

‘you have no idea how much that almost worked.’ 

‘What’s the plan then, master manipulator?’ 

‘i don’t know yet. i’m hoping you show me how smart you are and figure me out, then you can do all the hard questions.’ 

‘Hard questions?’ 

‘you know, do you wanna go on a date, do you wanna be my girlfriend, do you want to take my hand in marriage and have a summer home in the french alps? that kind of stuff.’ 

‘Totally not psychotic.’ Peter tucks his bottom lip between his teeth to hide the smile that wants to spread. 

‘mostly not.’ 

WEDNESDAY: 13:57

Peter doesn’t know who X is, but they’re clever and have zero effect on his sixth sense. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Either way, he’s reading a note scribbled in blue pen and as he studies the words he knows it was rushed. It’s proof that he wasn’t being followed everywhere, instead you saw an empty table and an opportunity. 

‘Peter- 

You use mostly gender neutral pronouns. I think that’s very cool. Is it weird that I notice those things about you? Also- what is it that you’re always drinking from Nuthouse? Asking for a friend… 

Have a good day! 

-Your not so secret admirer, X. 

‘Not so secret,’ Peter isn’t sure about that. You’ve done a good enough job at not trying to be obviously known, he might have looked up your number last night to find dust. One was from an app, but the one you’ve been using is a burner phone. 

What he’s really not understanding is how you’re able to get so close to him without him noticing. You had to have been millimeters away when you rested the letter on his backpack, he was gone for less than two minutes and he had zero awareness. 

Peter folds up the note and sticks it in the same pocket as the other one, his back slung around one shoulder as he moves up the stairs for the library. At the same time, you come down the opposite side, Peter gives a friendly acknowledgement. 

You choke down the lump in your throat. “Hi, Peter.” He’s already past you, it’s echoed behind his shoulder. “Hey.” It’s something. You’re trying, you’re trying to be bold for him. But he’s not going to notice, he’s never going to notice you and if you tell him who you are you’ll never live past his disappointment. 

Your phone vibrates, the other phone. Your heart picks up, Peter texted first. 

 14:02 

‘Dirty chai.’ 

‘best of both worlds. how fitting. you’re such a nonconforming king.’ 

‘I don’t even know what that means.’ 

‘But thank you?’ 

‘you’re welcome!’ 

‘anything fun on the roster today?’ 

‘Roster? Who are you?’ 

‘idk you make me nervous. blame yourself.’ 

‘Well, coach. Nothing fun on the roster, just some math. Wanna swap places with me?’ 

‘gross. i hate math so if you like it that’s good with me. one of us has to be smart and it’s not me.’

‘Smart enough to use a burner phone.’ 

‘oooooh, someone tried to find meeee.’ 

‘Can’t blame a guy for being curious, can you?’ 

‘were you disappointed when you found nothing?’ 

‘A little bit. But, you know, it keeps the imagination alive. A little unfair advantage on your side though, you already know what I look like.’ 

‘if it helps, you already know what i look like too.’ 

‘I do?’ 

‘yeah. we’ve talked before.’ 

‘Wait, so I know who you are?’ Brett said he did but Peter thought he meant you’d be familiar, not that he actually knew you. This just opened the floodgates to a million more possibilities. 

‘not really but yeah i guess. you know i exist but we’re not friends or anything.’ 

‘I’d like to think we’re friends, but okay.’ 

‘not outside the texting.’ 

‘That’s your decision.’ 

‘HATER.’ 

‘Anymore hints?’ 

‘.... no.’ 

‘HATER.’ 

FRIDAY: 12:15

You’re about to spill hot tea everywhere but it’ll be worth it to see his face. You ignore your pounding heart and stand in front of him. He’s got no clue you showed up, zoned out looking at the clock on the wall across from him. 

“Hi, Peter.” 

Full frontal attention, he’s looking at you. He’s perceiving you, he’s smiling at you. “Hi,” your eyes expand, he knows your name and it sounds so nice coming from his mouth. Sure, you’ve chatted with each other- even shared a few highlighters, but nothing serious. You’ve always been too scared to try anything else but maybe your fear has been mistaken for indifference. 

“I um, I lucked out today at Nuthouse so if you like dirty chai’s I got an extra one.” Your knees feel weak at his bright eyes, “my favorite. I’d love one, thank you.” You pass over the paper cup, your fingers brush and you think you’re about to collapse. 

“Yeah,” a weak laugh. “I had a feeling.” Peter tilts his head at you funny, you wonder if you pushed a little too far. “Okay, um, I’m gonna… have a good… lecture.” Peter nods and watches you go two rows up, he’s finally got a gut feeling. And it tells him to keep an eye out for you. 

TUESDAY: 12:10

Not that Peter was reliant on your attention, he was used to it. So when the texts stopped for three days and he was unable to find any letters he assumed you had lost interest and moved on. That felt fair to him, no harm no foul, at least he never really got to know you. 

Nevermind, there’s a folded notebook page on his miniature desk and his heart speeds up. His next task, put eyes on you. Bottom level, book and pencil in hand. He makes sure to note it’s a pencil and not the green ink that’s spread across the page. 

Peter thinks it’s a mind game, you were smart enough to know he’d look. Unless he was totally wrong on his guess. 

‘Peter- 

I ran out of minutes on my phone and I’m having a broke college kid moment. However, a friend took pity and donated a twenty to the campaign. I hope you’ve been good- I’ve missed talking to you. 

- Your not so secret admirer, X’ 

ps. stop keeping your backpack so close to you.’

It wasn’t anything personal, you just ran out of minutes. Peter smiles so wide he has to drop it, he almost clutches the paper to his chest in a thank you. Eyeing his backpack, he nudges it a little further behind him, following instruction. He’s kept it close in hopes to catch you, but instead he’s pushing you away. 

Peter’s committing the writing to memory as if he’s going to find you by the handwriting alone. A quick glance at footsteps, you’re three steps away when you smile. “Hi, Peter.” He nods, “hey.” You pause for a moment, mind racing for words. 

“Did you, um- did you do anything fun this weekend?” You’re about to crawl into a hole and die, it takes a moment to click that you were speaking to him. He went as far to look behind himself, then he spewed the answer to try and make up for the lost time. 

“Oh, uh not really. My aunt got a new bed so I had to lug the old one down seven flights of stairs.” Your eyes widen, you feel your mouth go dry and your tongue go thick. “By yourself?” Peter crosses his arms over his chest, a boyish grin swept over and you feel heart eyes form. 

“I’m a good nephew.” You want to pat his head and tell him you’re sure he is, then maybe hold him at gunpoint and tell you more stories about how he’s a perfect humanitarian. But you act like a normal human and smile back, “you sound like it.” 

Peter thanks you and you return to your seat with wobbly knees and a weak stomach, it’s silent torture to tease yourself like this with him. But you can’t help it and it’s only in effort to go after what you want. Even if it blows up when he figures out who you are. 

12:13

‘you’re looking mighty handsome today, mr. parker.’ 

‘I’m wearing a hoodie, but thank you.’ 

‘i said what i said.’ 

Boldly, ‘i see someone had another dirty chai. can’t stay away from them, can you?’ 

Another tick in Peter's stomach, he almost looks behind his shoulder at you, but he doesn’t. ‘It was a generous donation from a classmate.’ 

‘oh? pray tell, peter. pray tell.’ 

‘What? You don’t have a clue about who gave it to me?’ 

You swallow thickly, before you could get something out he sent another message. ‘No chance you didn’t see it go down?’ 

‘how could i? I was still on my way.’ 

‘... or was i?’ 

‘Tell you what, X. It one of the best teas I’ve had in a while.’ 

And you’d be damned if that didn’t make your entire chest flutter. 

FRIDAY: 15:29

“Here,” Peter’s hand clasped over the paper slapped into his chest. A hint of a syllable, Brett cuts himself off. “She asked me to give this to you.” Peter quickly read it and stared down before confiding in his friend for a second. 

‘Peter- 

Roses are red, violets are blue, all that I think about is you. 

It’s sweet in a cringy way, right? Boo on you for skipping class today, if you want, I could get you some notes. 

I hope I’ll see you Tuesday. 

-Your (really) not so secret admirer, X

ps. A pen exploded in my pocket. 10/10 chance my thigh will be stained.’

“I think I might know who it is.” 

“Uh, huh.” 

“But, she’s way out of my league.” 

“Correct.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “so it’s her?” He clarified with your name, Brett shrugged back. 

“I won’t be confirming or denying.” Peter knows what that means, “the lack of a no usually means yes.” 

“Bro,” Peter starts sputtering, “oh, c’mon! You know what I meant, I just meant that, I just- c’mon, Brett. Is it her?” 

“I have no idea who that is.” Peter wants to call bullshit, he has a gut feeling and he swears it’s you. You’re right, it’s not so secret. In fact, you’re painfully obvious. 

FRIDAY: 23:14 

‘you are soooooooo cute’ 

‘like your hair is so cute’ 

‘i looooove curly hair on guys and you have that!!!!!!!!!’ 

‘and you’re really funny cause like it’s so quick and witty like you have such good one liners’ 

‘also you’re really fucking hot and i KNOW you’re hiding something under those fucking sweaters and the second i see skin i WILL go feral.’ 

‘Something tells me you’re at the Kappa party.’ Peter’s pretending he doesn’t have a searing blush. If he’s got an inkling this could be you… then he might have proof for the non-believers that god exists. 

‘yes!!! are you here?? i should come see you.’ 

‘I hate to disappoint you, but I’m currently at a friend's house playing a Mario Kart drinking game.’ 

“But it’s nice to know that you’d give me your identity that quick.’ 

‘oh i can tell you who i am.’ Peter frowns at the text, he’s been doing nothing but crave the answer to who’s behind the love letters but it feels wrong. It’s not satisfactory enough for him, it’s also not what you want, you’re just drunk- and Peter’s going out on a limb here- horny. 

‘Save it for later.’ 

‘And maybe drink some water.’ 

‘i’d do anything for you cause you have the world's prettiest brown eyes’

‘Thank you for the compliments.’ 

‘you’re super welcome i try to hold them back because i’m a good girl but you’re just so cute i had to let you know’ 

‘I think you’re going to super regret this in the morning.’ 

‘false. maybe fact idk’

‘i should trust you tho because you’re super smart and you’re a nerd.’ 

‘I fear this is taking a turn for the worse.’ 

‘and that is so fucking HOT’

‘Oh. Back to compliments. Thank you.’ 

‘if you were here i’d give you a kiss’

‘IGNORE THAT!!!!’

‘I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND THAT!!!! IGNORE IT’ 

‘Not ignored. How cute.’ 

‘screaming crying throwing up’ 

‘i really didn’t mean to send that it was a joke ha ha funny.’ 

‘Idk, sounded authentic to me.’ 

‘peter?’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘i’m a little drunk rn. and you should know how cute you are.’ 

‘Oh, I’m talking about record breaking levels of regret. This is amazing.’ 

‘i have to pee but i do not reget this!!!!!!’ 

SATURDAY: 09:54

‘i stand by my claim and do not regret a thing.’ 

‘correction. i regret this hangover and the way my previous texts are not very cool girl of me.’ 

‘but i would like to know if you won mario last night.’

‘also, who’s ur fav character?’ 

11:12

1. Proud of you for owning it, that’s very cool girl of you. 

2. I did not win. 

3. Petey Piranha. 

‘who tf is petey piranha.’

‘Mario Kart Sunshine. Came out in 2002. (Originally on GameCube but recently released on switch.) (Hell yeah.)’ 

Your heart thumps, he’s such a nerd and you wanna kiss the air out of his lungs. ‘out of all the characters and u choose him. why petey piranha’ 

‘One guess.’ 

‘PETEY PIRANHA.’ 

‘OH MY GOD.’ 

‘you’re petey piranha <333’ 

Peter fights a grin, ‘I am.’ 

‘you’re so cute. i love that.’ 

‘Personally, in the past 24 hours I don’t think I’ve heard enough about how cute I am.’

‘you’re insufferable and it’s sexy.’ 

‘Oo, new one to the mix. You’re making me blush.’ You really are. He’s never been considered sexy before and it feels really nice. 

‘and i bet you look super cute.’ 

‘Super true.’ 

TUESDAY: 12:34

‘white t shirt white t shirt white t shirt WHITE T SHIRT.’ 

‘You like?’ 

‘i’m about to cry i’m biting my fist so fucking hard.’ 

‘:)’ 

‘you’re so ubuibabeyia.’ 

‘Bless you.’ 

‘?’ 

‘Sorry, I assumed you sneezed.’ Peter never whipped his head around so fast at an audible laugh behind him. It was short, it had escaped without being thought about. He’s looking for you, but it doesn’t seem like it was you who laughed. You’re engrossed in chatting to your neighbor. 

On the other hand, you almost blew it by clasping your hands over your mouth. Instead you looked next to you and said, directly and with a burning gaze, “I need you to pretend we’ve been talking this whole time.” 

‘Someone’s losing their edge, you’re just begging to be caught.’ 

‘oh, i’m begging all right.’ 

‘can you hear me whimpering too?’ 

‘Easy, killer. Let’s not start sexting at noon on a Tuesday.’ 

‘are you saying there is a time for it?’ 

‘Give me a little wave and we’ll see.’ 

‘too late, i’m passed out on the floor. the only thing that can resuscitate me are those thick arms wrapped around me.’ 

‘Let these strong arms sweep you off your feet, all you gotta do is come talk to me after lecture…’ 

Peter says that, but he doesn’t mean it. He’ll definitely eat his words when he sees it’s you, then he’d be coming up with a thousand ways to back out of it. He’s so much more than you deserve, you feel so safe behind a keyboard but in person you can barely say a sentence. 

It’s stupid and a little humbling because you’ve never felt this way about a guy before. 

‘trust me, i’m better in your imagination.’ 

WEDNESDAY: 14:22

‘Peter- 

You know a little about a lot and I think that is one of my favorite things about you. Or maybe it’s your voice. I could listen to you talk forever. 

-Your not so secret admirer, X’ 

A note under his textbook, if he follows his hunch then he’d be looking for… you. Conveniently three tables away and to the right of his own, you’re not looking for his reaction, you’ve got your focus on your own textbook but he swears you’re retaining none of it. It’s a distraction, or maybe it’s a diversion. 

Peter doesn’t mind. He’s going to wait. He has all the time in the world today and he’s going to sit here with his eyes on you until you look up at him because he knows you’re going to and once you do, he’s going to have his answer. 

If he’s right, and he swears he is, he’s going to absolutely lose is shit because what do you mean you like him and are intimidated? You boldly lied when you said you were punching above your weight class. Does it make him a jerk to say he wasn’t even thinking of you as a suitor and maybe a girl with a much more average look?

 Peter counted to sixty twice, you glance up, eyes shooting to the note you left on the table. The next stop, Peter’s face. And oh, you were not prepared to have him looking right back. Panic, you shoot a wave, a desperate attempt to pretend you’re seeing a familiar face. 

Peter waves back but he looks much more satisfied than you did, you wonder if the jig is up. Did he crack the code? Was he just trying to find a friendly way to let you down? Deny til death, he has no proof it’s you. You pack your things up, a hurried scramble before you could lose your cool. 

On the way out you almost stop breathing, your forearm caught in Peter’s hand. You’re staring down at it, he’s not removing it. It burns in the best way. “Hey,” you wait, you can’t stop looking at his hand, the muscle, the subtle flex, his fingertips paler to show his grip. “Hi, Peter.” 

It’s breathless, you think you’re about to die. If he asks, you don’t know how you’ll lie your way out. 

Guess who’s got a stained pocket? The corner edge darkened with black ink that would never be washed out. Peter has his answer. You’re her. You’re X. “Thanks again for the tea.” 

 Maybe you wanted more, you feel a bit deflated when it’s all you receive.

“You’re welcome.” Your arm feels cold when he drops his touch, you linger for a second too long, you’re not sure when you’ll be this brave again. It was too much of a close call. “I hope the rest of your day is good.” 

Peter’s got a charismatic grin, he feels settled now that he knows you’re the anonymous lover in his life. Even more so when you find yourself shy and reserved in person, it almost makes him giggle to think of the stark changes in confidence.

“You too.” Your body engulfs into flames when your arm is caught again, you’re struggling to keep calm at his boyish smile. “Quick question,” you nod slightly, trying to show zero paranoia for the following words. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” 

Short circuiting. You see black spots, you think you’re about to pass out. There is only one thing that means, no guy asks that if they weren’t interested in changing that, right? 

“No.” It’s anything but graceful. It sounds like you’ve never had a boyfriend before. It makes you sound like you’re scared he asked it. 

But, Peter doesn’t take it like that. He smiles wider, like he already knew the answer before he asked it.

THURSDAY: 16:37

A new letter, stuffed under the top handle of his backpack. Peter listened and stopped setting it next to him, in return he was rewarded. He can’t stop the small smile, you make it involuntary at this point. Peter’s never felt so special in his life, a little part of him wants this to never end. But he’d much rather look you in the eyes. 

‘Peter- 

I had a dream with you in it last night. Don’t worry, you had your clothes on. I’m not sure what we were doing but you were across from me at a diner and we were sitting in those super thick booths and our friends were there. 

I don’t know who these friends were, and I don’t think you do either. But I knew them as our friends. 

It felt really nice. I’m happy to know you, even if I just get this little piece. 

-Your not so secret admirer, X’

Peter’s been wrong a lot in his life but this time he really thinks he has it figured out. He’s much more bold now, this letter tells him it’s not infatuation, it’s love. 

You love him and he thinks he could love you too. 

FRIDAY: 20:08

‘Hey.’ Peter could be making the worst decision of his life here, he could be reading everything wrong and ruining this for himself. 

‘hi peter!’ But he really thinks he’s got it right.  

‘I really, really liked talking to you for the past few weeks but I think I should tell you that I like someone else.’ 

Gut wrenching despair. You knew it was too good to last, you knew he’d find someone more in his league. Someone who’d be willing to show him their face. There was no reason to respond because what would you say to that? 

‘thank you for letting me know that opening up to you was all for nothing!’ 

‘thanks for making me doubt love!’ 

‘hope you and her are so fucking happy together!!!!!’ 

Fuck it all and fuck Peter. He just liked the attention until it came from somewhere else. You don’t think you like him all that much anymore. You think you’re lying, too. Before you can give into the desire of hurting him just as bad, you calmly turn the phone off and stuff it in the back of a desk drawer to never be uncovered again. 

You slowly sit in bed and tug the blankets over your head. And only then, do you allow yourself to sob. 

Peter chewed on his bottom lip and waited an hour with constant phone checks before he realized a response was never coming. It really set in during the weekend but even further when he got no note or letter on monday. Not even when he left his backpack unattended for five minutes. 

TUESDAY -he was able to see you and how you avoided his eyes. How you pretended you didn’t see him send a small wave. How you had pulled back from him. 

And if he hadn’t hurt your feelings, or X’s feelings, why would you do that? 

You look up at a two fingered knock at the corner of your desk. “Hi.” You blink and ignore the white noise buzzing in your ears at the sight of Peter standing in front of you. “Hi, Peter.” 

“How was your weekend?” Bitter. Terrible. Lonely.

“Fine. Nothing exciting.” Besides you breaking my heart. 

Watching his fingertips dance on the edge of the plastic, you feel everything in you brighten. “You look sad.” There’s a burn in your stomach, he’s the reason for both the sting and the sadness. 

“Do you need something? Or are you just doing a friendly check in?” Peter bites back the grin when you snap at him, he’s so, so, so right and it feels so, so, so good. “Neither. I’m just confirming my suspicions.” 

“Suspicions?” 

“Yeah. You passed.” Your eyebrows furrow, before you could try to question further Peter was giving half a wave, saying bye, and skipping a step to his aisle. 

FRIDAY: 12:08

You stop breathing for a solid second before feeling your brain spark back to life. It could be anything, it could be from anyone, but you know there’s only one person who would’ve left a note on your desk. 

Your fingers slightly shake when you unfold the graph paper, little squares bled through with black sharpie. 

‘X-

Am I right?

Hopefully, 

-  Peter’ 

You can’t breathe, you can’t talk, you can’t move and you definitely can fucking not look at him. No, no, no. You can feel his eyes on you, you know he’s watching for your reaction. Peter figured you out and had his own fun along the way. 

You were the girl he liked. Oh, wow. Is this how special you’ve made him feel? Something just for your eyes, from him. A secret you both shared between lines. 

You spin and swear you can feel his gaze running over your back, he’s aching for the answer. You almost scream at a tap on your shoulder, a peek lets you know it’s the person you’re hiding from. 

Another note, folded up just like the other one. It’s pushed into your hand, Peter doesn’t say a word, he just offers and leaves. He’s not watching this time, he’s sitting and focused on the front, you feel air leak back into your lungs. 

Full on panic shaking, you’re so happy he’s not watching. 

Your name is addressed on the front, just like you do for him. 

‘I like you. 

I think you not so secretly like me too. 

We could talk more about it at dinner tonight. Will you let me take you out?

Circle yes or no. 

- Peter.

PS. XOXOXO now you’re responsible for mine, too.’ 

[darkinfinity]

Happy 28th! This list shouldn't be as long as it is since I had all my exams this month, but here we are! Here are all the fics I read and enjoyed this month, sorted by word count!

🍸Of sunshines and sweethearts by tippitytap (series, 184k)

When Louis meets Harry for the first time, the interaction is over before Louis can even get a sentence out.

When Harry runs into Louis for a second time, he gets asked out on a date instead of getting yelled at for being so careless.

Who could have guessed that two simple uni-students going on dates in the dark and making out against pillars in tube stations were both carrying the burdens of their family on their shoulders? And: Could the weight of those possibly get lighter if they help carry each other’s?

🍸Playin’ it safe and breakin’ the rules by @local-troubled-writer (M, 90k)

or the One Where Maybe this Fake Relationship Gets a Little Too Real.

🍸War of hearts by @boosbabycakes28 (E, 80k)

They are the bane of each other's existence, they never pass off an opportunity to remind the other of how annoying they are. Who would have thought that polar opposites could compliment each other so well?

A story about two boys, one looking for patience and trying to be strong enough to stand up for himself, and one struggling with self-discovery and strength, where facts, reality and becomings hit him in the face, and suddenly, everything that's ever been important to him is in play.

🍸The nation's sweethart by Snowy38 (E, 77k)

In limped a graceful giant; slim bodied but broad shouldered with thick thighs. Harry's hair was a little wild where it had grown out of it's usually boyish short style.

For some reason Louis' fingers flexed, as if wanting to course through the flicks in the bottom of his rich brown hair.

It had been curly once. Louis had seen pictures of him innocent with wide green eyes and a wider, bright white, toothy grin. Everything about him screamed privilege.

Louis wondered if he knew he'd only taken this job to stop him losing his flat.

🍸What I have with you (I don't want with anyone else) by @lululawrence (NR, 73k)

Or Louis is an asexual alpha, Harry is his aromantic alpha friend and possible roommate, and faking a relationship might be exactly what they need to get their families and friends off their backs.

🍸The cottage by @holdingontochaos(E, 70k)

Louis hates alphas and he has good reason to, but when his beloved omega grandmother dies, and he inherits her cottage, he meets Harry, an alpha hazelnut farmer who sneaks his way into Louis’ life.

While Louis struggles with his severe touch deprivation, he forms a friendship with Harry that turns out to be exactly what he needed.

Or Louis has severe touch deprivation and Harry has a hazelnut farm.

🍸Hooked with just one taste by @dinosaursmate (E, 48k)

Louis' flatmate introduces him to camming and suddenly, a whole new world is opened up to him: tips, gifts, and lots of admirers. He takes to it like a duck to water and strikes up a strange sort of friendship with a rather secretive lad calling himself BabyHoney, who seems to have more money than sense.

🍸A frail farewell by @all-these-larrythings (M, 44k)

Louis can’t believe his luck when he is offered one of the easiest jobs he has had as a long-term house-sitter for the wealthy. He loves the money, and the peace and quiet of the empty mansions he looks after. Most of all he likes that there are no surprises until he gets the shock of his life from ex-pop star Harry Styles who isn’t supposed to be home.

🍸My hands at risk, I fold by @yourgorgeouscolors28 (E, 43k)

"Sometimes, when Louis first wakes up, he thinks he’s back in the hospital, and panic hits him."

Or, Harry is a famous popstar, Louis is a famous football player and one injury changes everything.

🍸now i think that i could love you back by maroonmoonlouis (E, 42k)

Or, the one where Omega Prince Louis is thrown a Courting Ceremony. A weekend full of competition ensues for his hand in marriage. As if he’s not already stressed about choosing his future Mate in three days, it’s just his luck that his enemy, Alpha Prince Harry has decided to partake as well.

🍸And when it rains, you're shining down on me by martisgotaproblem (NR, 37k)

“This is Harry, he’ll be your patient,” Liam gestured politely.

Harry froze when Louis’ eyes met his own once more. He felt himself getting lost in those eyes, so much so that he didn’t notice Niall and Liam leaving the room quietly but the sound of the door shutting behind them brought him out of the trance.

“Hello, I’m Louis,” the omega said, extending his hand for Harry to shake. The alpha could still sense some nervousness in his stance but decided to ignore it.

“’m Harry.”

Or the one where Harry is a grumpy boxer who gets injured and Louis is the lovely physiotherapist hired to help him, but getting pregnant wasn’t exactly in his recovery plan.

🍸A hungry heart by @jacaranda-bloom (E, 27k)

Harry Styles, florist and Great British Bake Off contestant, loves many things. He loves his flower shop, he loves baking, and there’s also that little crush he has on pop star Louis Tomlinson.

But when Louis arrives on set as the surprise guest judge, Harry’s worlds collide. Throw in a cup of cuteness, a teaspoon of teasing, and a pinch of pining, and there’s all the ingredients for an epic love story, or absolute chaos.

Or the one where the Bake Off tent has never been so hot, and it’s got nothing to do with what’s in the ovens.

🍸Iron hearts, fire souls by @getmesometacos (E, 26k)

Or the one where Harry and Louis are two single and unmated Lawyer Alphas that have to share an office and even though they shouldn't be that attracted to each other's scents, it sure isn't a big deal, right? I mean, what could go wrong?

🍸Take me down slow (don't let me go) by @jacaranda-bloom (E, 26k)

Louis has always felt different. Not necessarily on the outer realm of societal norms, but pretty damn close to the edge. As an Omega, he’s supposed to want certain things; to want to raise a family, to want to build a life with a partner, and to want that partner to be an Alpha.

Well, two out of three ain’t bad.

OR the one where Louis wants to find the right kind of partner to love, Niall hates snowboarding, Liam wants to settle down, Harry is really good with his hands, and mother nature could be the thing that changes everything.

🍸Sugar, sugar by @parmahamlarrie (E, 25k)

Meeting your soulmate was the most joyous event of one’s life… or at least, it’s supposed to be. Harry, in all of his 25 year old wisdom, was suspicious of the role fate plays in everyone's lives. He'd rather focus his time dating older men he meets off of a sugar baby website.

Louis isn’t waiting with bated breath for his soulmate either. He has more important things to worry about than love. Mainly, his career as a writer, publishing under a pseudonym. He spends most of the year buried under research and manuscripts, taking as much time as he would like, much to his publishers' chagrin. After receiving many millions after the death of his Aunt Ethel when he was young, he technically never has to work again. As far as soulmates go, he figures if it happens, he will be so old that he’ll be stuck in his ways. Or he’ll have grey eyes forever, he doesn’t fucking care. He can get his needs met through a sugar baby website.

Or… The Sugar baby soulmate AU

🍸Tossing round like coins by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (E, 25k)

“No, no it’s fine.” Louis rubs the back of his neck a little awkwardly. “I guess I’m just not used to hearing another alpha talking about taking a knot is all. You caught me off guard a bit, but I don’t mind.”

Harrys look of embarrassment soon morphs into a smirk. “Not a lot of knot talk in the locker rooms then?”

Louis laughs. “Oh yeah there is. But it’s more like arguments over whose is bigger and that.” He schools his face into what he hopes is an over exaggerated, self-righteous expression. “But not me of course, because I’m proper evolved.”

Harry snorts out a laugh. “Of course you are.”

(Or the one where Louis is an alpha who does manly alpha things like play professional football and lift weights at the gym, where he meets alpha Harry who wears nail polish and dates other alphas. Louis isn’t put off by Harry’s strange tendencies, more like intrigued. And maybe just maybe, he’s interested).

🍸Bend like a hairpin by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (M, 25k)

Or the one where FBI agent Harry Styles screws up in a mission and he has one more chance to save his career. He’s going undercover as a stripper to investigate a strip club suspected of money laundering. There’s just 2 problems: 1) Harry can’t dance, and 2) he might be falling for the club’s owner Louis, who just happens to be the prime suspect.

🍸Because sparrows mate for life by @builtyouahousefromabrokenhome (E, 24k)

Harry’s tattoo gets done all wrong, and he needs someone to fix it.

🍸On a starlit night by @lunarheslwt (M, 24k)

Or, omega and future Luna Louis is holding a mating ceremony to find his mate, but what he doesn’t expect to see amongst the alphas vying for his hand, is a familiar, yet unexpected face: Harry Styles.

🍸The laundry room incident by corrinebailey (E, 23k)

Or the one where Louis doesn't make the best first impression with his new neighbor, and then continues to keep screwing everything up while simultaneously falling for him

i.e: Louis’ fucked

🍸Suddenly they're right by sapphichug (E, 22k)

Louis is a painting professor with an art block the size of Texas and a global superstar for a non-boyfriend, who he wants to keep.

a fic about feeling stuck and learning to free oneself

🍸Everywhere, everything by corrinebailey (E, 21k)

Or the one where Louis has been a farmer for the past decade, his sisters are rightfully worried about his sanity, and Harry swoops in to bring Louis back to life

🍸Frightened by the bite, no harsher than the bark by @voulezloux (T, 21k)

louis loves going to the barricade during his shows. if it’s because he’s got a bit (lot) of touch deprivation and is using it as an excuse to have his big alpha bodyguard, harry, touch him, well, that’s a secret he doesn’t need to tell.

🍸The prophecy by HoPotato (E, 18k)

CEO of Empyrean, Louis Tomlinson should have all that he can wish for. After inheriting his mother's company, everyone might think the most eligible alpha cannot wish for anything else but in reality he lives in a glass cage, crushing under the weight of dreams that aren't his and the ghoul of the life he never had. What changes everything for him is a simple resignation letter from his personal assistant on his desk on one fine morning.

🍸You are the fever (What a lovely way to burn!) by @yoursolosong (E, 18k)

Harry is an alpha who realizes he’s also into alphas and wants to be submissive. He battles between his instincts and what he wants.

🍸Lost but won by @2tiedships2 (NR, 16k)

When Harry loses his passport after a weekend trip to see Niall, the inconvenience of being stranded in America becomes a little more bearable after meeting Louis. Or a lot more bearable.

🍸Hold you with my hands tied by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (series, 16k)

Or the one where Omega Harry loses his bakery job and is forced to take a temporary position bartending at a local BDSM club. It turns out to be not so bad. Especially when he catches the eye of the owner Louis, who also happens to be a gorgeous Alpha.

🍸Just one look (and i fell so hard) by @disgruntledkittenface (M, 15k)

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.

🍸We chase the stars to lose our shadow by 5secsoflarry (E, 15k)

Insomniac and someone professionally cuddling with them to fall asleep....They fall in love.

🍸Blue eyes and cigarette smoke by corrinebailey (E, 14k)

There he was, all dark clothes and vans- the embodiment of cigarette smoke and deep cologne, and Harry wanted nothing more than to bury his hands into that hoodie. He wanted to breathe him in and feel that stubble against his hands. He wanted to feel those pink lips pressed to his damp skin- he craved it so much he was light headed, could feel the haziness fog his head as he tried to meet his eyes. Tried to will deep blue eyes to meet his own.

Or the one where Harry wants his perfect meet cute, wants to meet his soulmate in the way fate intended, which is why the brunette with stormy eyes and a cigarette dangling between his fingers could not possibly be the one.

🍸High heels on, 'm feeling the love by @thebreadvansstuff (M, 14k)

Harry hears the click of the camera snapping his picture and decides to throw his head back for the next one. He cocks his hip a bit to create the illusion of curves and proudly shows the too-small high heels. He decides to go with the classic pose, hand above his hip bone and leg bent back.

The moment he lifts his leg behind himself, the heel comes in contact with hard metal and makes a screeching sound as it drags upwards. Harry jumps around to see a long scratch going up the passenger door of the car behind him, and slaps his open mouth with a hand. "Oh no."

Or, Harry damages a car when drunkenly stumbling home after a fun night out with his friends. Feeling horribly guilty, he tries to find the owner and make it up to him.

🍸You just be yourself by @lululawrence (NR, 13k)

“Thanks, Mom.”

Louis’ breath was knocked right out of him at those words, and Grey froze. They then immediately pulled out of Louis’ arms and scurried out of sight before either Harry or Louis could respond.

“Shit,” Harry cursed quietly, looking between Louis and where Grey had disappeared.

“I…” Louis blinked and looked down at the boxes still scattered on the floor. By the time he had gathered them back up, Harry was also gone.

Or five times Harry's daughter claims Louis as her mother, and one time Louis claims them both as his too.

🍸The capillaries in my eyes are bursting by 5secsoflarry (E, 13k)

Medieval times where King Louis is in a near death accident and enters a coma. The royal doctor says they have two weeks to find Louis’ true soulmate (omega) or he dies.

🍸I'll call you mine by @kenniewen (T, 13k)

"Harry isn’t superstitious, doesn’t knock on wood, or wish on shooting stars, but his position on ‘love at first sight’ becomes increasingly wishy-washy as his mind begins to comprehend blue, blue, blue. He feels his heart constrict and tongue go dry. The man before him is the most beautiful omega he has ever seen in his entire life."

Or: A self indulgent Omega/Omega fic with a teacher/single parent of favorite student trope.

🍸The checkout by @silverstuff50 (E, 12k)

Omega Harry is a bit obsessed with one of the workers at the small supermarket around the corner from his flat. The problem is, it's the place where Harry goes for last minute items and emergencies, so the Alpha (Louis) always sees him buy embarrassing things.

🍸Safe place to hide us away by @lunarheslwt (T, 12k)

Or, weighed down by everyday stress, alpha Harry takes up nesting in secret. It takes a load of missing clothes and unravelling lies for him to realise that his omega would love and accept him no matter what.

🍸I'm sticking around by @tommokat (T, 10k)

The pompous alpha beside him huffs, breaking Louis' concentration on what feels like his future running towards him and suddenly the reality of the situation falls on him: Louis is romantically interested in Harry. Harry’s son is on Louis' soccer team. And while Harry’s son is on Louis’ soccer team, his romantic interest cannot be acted upon.

🍸Louis and the very terrible, no good sleep by @nooradeservedbetter (E, 10k)

Louis had always been used to sleeping in a puppy pile back home. It was something that just happened, with all of his siblings being omegas, they just ended up in a giant nest all together, and Louis loved to cuddle in the warmth, and breathe in the familiar scent of home. He hadn’t thought much about it when, after graduating from the local uni, he got a job offer in Brighton and had to leave the family den.

Or, Louis is insomniac. Follow him in his quest to fall asleep.

🍸Nerd or (k)not? by @super--noah (E, 10k)

Harry had instantly fallen for Louis the first time the met. He was exactly Harry's type, nerdy looking with big glasses slipping down his nose. In truth Louis is a massive nerd and he's not ashamed to admit it, but that doesn't mean he can't stand up for himself or that he spends all his time with his nose in books. He only spends about half his time like that, the other half is spent playing football, not that anyone knows.

Harry's friend Sammy tries to get with Louis at a party, but he turns her down, leading her to spread rumours about his abilities in bed and the size of his dick. Harry's friend group bully him relentlessly about this rumour. When Harry is bet that he can't stop sleeping around for a week otherwise he has to sleep with Louis it's all to much for Harry. He confesses to Louis, leading them to a deeper understanding of who they are to each other.

It turns out Harry's friends are terrible people and that having sex with Louis is far from a punishment.

🍸I’ve been watching you all night by tommosgotabangerr (M, 9k)

Based on the @/larryffprompts Prompt #2999: Harry’s family is in a restaurant and there is this waiter serving the family and Harry tells Gemma that he thinks he is cute. When the family’s drinks are served, his mother says “My son thinks you are cute”. Harry screams “Noooo mum”, blushes horribly, and sinks under the table. The waiter laughs and thanks him for the compliment. Before the family leaves the restaurant, the waiter comes up to Harry and introduces himself. Louis then gives him his number.

🍸It's all my love (you got all my love) by tippitytap (T, 8k)

Sometimes, he realised how he truly didn’t deserve an alpha this good and patient and understanding and loving. He had no clue how Louis had bagged him, how Harry had wanted to mate with him, let alone raise pups together. Still, here they were, with Harry being the perfect lover and Louis crying in the streets about a little pumpkin. The fact Eli had baked little cakes in the shape of pumpkins that morning didn’t make anything better for Louis’ emotional state, but at the very least he got to sit down with Harry for a minute and devour one together, mumbling his apologies into the alpha’s neck.

A pumpkin-filled (literally), fluffy one-shot.

🍸Little love by @sunflouervol-6 (NR, 8k)

L & H are FBI/CIA/MI6/whatever agents and best friends. L goes on a mission without H (they’re partners, so they usually go together) and he doesn’t return. 2 yrs later he returns to the agency after escaping from wherever he was (maybe he was kidnapped, experimented on, etc., can be up to the author!). H tries to get L to talk about why he was gone/what he went through, but L isn’t ready. They continue to go on missions, but L is falling apart.

🍸Take my hand, Dumbass by @londonfoginacup (G, 5k)

There's only alpha dorms at university, and Louis Tomlinson, omega, refuses to pay the exorbitant fees to live off campus. So, four years pretending to be an alpha it is! That'll be easy.

And maybe it would be easy, if not for the depri and the annoying alpha roommate and the fact that Louis is, honestly, a bit too stubborn for his own good.

🍸Body stay vicious by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (E, 5k)

Or the one where Harry is feeling himself in the gym and gets a little carried away. Of course his gym crush just happens to walk in. They work it out.

🍸If you let me by hssatellite28 (E, 5k)

Louis' gone on a work trip and Harry is...desperate.

A phone sex one shot

🍸I want your midnights (you and me forevermore) by loha28 (G, 3k)

Just as he spots Gemma and Michal, holding hands and chatting with their faces close, Harry feels a little tug on his sleeve. When he looks down, he has to do his absolute best not to tear up at the little girl with tears streaking down her face.

Without a second thought, Harry squats down in front of her and reaches out for her hand. “Hey, hey sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Harry asks, a lick of panic running through his voice. All the girl does is sniffle. “Where are your parents?” Harry adds, looking over her head for anyone searching for someone.

When he looks back at her, he finds her lower lip wobbling before she breaks out in a big cry. “I can’t find them!” She wails, collapsing on Harry's chest and wrapping her arms around his neck.

🍸(on the edge until) you pull me in by @justanothershadeofblue (E, 3k)

Louis brings his hands up to rub at his eyes. The light from the streetlight is painting his room in pale halogen yellow and grey. A car zips by in the night, the sound of tires across damp asphalt a comforting constant.

He sets aside the details, and imagines it again. A faceless man. A rich one. Gay, also, obviously, or at least queer. Maybe he’d have a nice voice, Louis always did like a nice voice. Deep, maybe slow and deliberate to contrast with Louis’ own tendency toward high-pitched chattering.

He’d have to smell good, Louis’s always been picky about how his dates smelled. Not that he’s had all that many in the first place, but it’s something he’s always cared about. A full head of hair, too, that’s important. Maybe some curls.

Louis lets a hand run down his chest. His dick is not about to fall off, thank you very much, Niall, but it has been a while since he’s had time for a wank. He doesn’t really have time now – he’s got to get up in three and half hours and get breakfast, but oh well. It’ll feel good enough to be worth the extra lost sleep.

🍸Figure this out by @haztobegood (E, 2k)

Louis is everything Harry could have imagined when he’d typed “silver fox enthusiast” into his Grindr profile. Too bad he's probably scared Louis off by giving him too many expensive gifts.

🍸On love's doorstep by @hellolovers13 (T, 1k)

Harry Styles: a day in the life

☑ Stuck in a dress ☑ Abandoned by his best friend ☑ Date with hot neighbour

All in all, not the worst day ever

🍸miles away from seeing you by @loveislarryislove (T, 1k)

Harry is in his final year studying marine biology, and is doing an international exchange at the University of Auckland. His boyfriend Louis stays behind in England, but they keep in touch regularly through texts, snapchats, video calls, and more.

This fic is entirely told through images of social media posts and conversations. Image descriptions are available in the second chapter.

🍸Rainy days, new adventures by @greenblueish (G, 1k)

After a bad day, Louis decides to take a walk in the park where he meets a special man with a special little companion.

[johnwickb1tsch]

🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 2

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you. 

Part 2 of a little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. ILYSM!😘

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by saradika part 1

2. 

You’re a heavy sleeper, but this takes the cake.

When you stagger into your kitchen and look out the window Tex’s Chevelle is parked half in your gravel driveway, half in your yard. And tethered to your fence post munching green grass to his heart’s content is a certain miniature equine who you’d tried to acquire with cold hard cash the night before.

Fuck.

You march outside in your threadbare nightgown and your bare feet, finding Tex asleep in the driver’s seat. How the hell did he even get this horse here with that car?

If he put Ziggy in the trunk you are going to murder him.

You pound on the window, and he wakes with a violent start. “Popsicles!”

“What?”

He looks around, before fixing on you, and seems to relax a hair. “Mornin’, darlin’.”

“What. The fuck. Did you do?”

“Uh…funny story…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What? Didn’t you want this horse?”

“Yeah, but…” You pull at your hair, feeling a migraine coming on already. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

You turn in the dew-wet grass to go check on Ziggy. You hear Tex exiting the car behind you. “Don’t be mad, baby.”

“I’m not mad,” you answer sadly, running your fingers through the little horse’s coarse blond mane. “I’m scared.”

Ziggy nibbles at your fingers with his meaty lips, wanting the treats he associates you with. He was going to need a whole lot more than molasses cookies though. You could already tell how your day was going to go.

“Don’t be scared either, darlin’,” Tex says behind you.

“Easy for you to say. You realize this is the first place Dale is gonna come look? And he’ll probably bring Donnie too.”

Nevermind the restraining order you have. It won’t stop him. He’s friends with half the sheriff’s deputies anyway. The Barksdales are damn near untouchable. You learned that the oh so hard way.

“Honey, I’m not going to let them hurt you.” 

For the sake of the horse you keep your temper in check, moderating your voice when all you want to do is yell. “What are you going to do? Watch over me every minute of the day?” He lifts his brows like he likes that idea–you do too, which is batshit insane, because you don’t actually know a goddamn thing about this man.

“Hold on. How did you even know where I live?”

He shrugs. “Not hard to find out, if you know where to look.”

“Well that’s not creepy at all.”

You guess all he’d have to do is ask at the gas station–your family’s been here long enough that it’s basically common knowledge.

You stand there in your faded floral muumuu and your bare feet, toe to toe with this tall dark man and if you had any sense you would be afraid…but you’re not. You’re not because you just don’t think he’ll hurt you. You feel it in your bones and you haven’t had that certainty about any man in so long you can’t remember, and it’s driving you a little wild inside.

“I need my boots,” you sigh, and brush past him to go back to the house.

***

You put Ziggy in the farthest back stall of your barn, where he’ll be out of sight should anyone come looking. With a flake of hay and some grains in his bucket, he seems perfectly content, the sweet sound of him munching filling the old oak building. You lean on a rough sawn post and watch him with a storm in your heart, wondering how long its been since he’d been able to eat his fill.

There will be a price to pay for this little horse’s well being, and you decide whatever it is will be worth it, even if you are afraid. Tex’s presence might deter vengeance for a little while, but he won’t be here forever. You know he won’t, no matter how nice it is to think it, so you’d better be ready.

You were going to have to think on this.

But first, you were going to have to call the ferrier. Luckily you had a friend who wouldn’t rat you out to the Barksdales. Angela was tough as nails and didn’t kowtow to their bullshit. 

It occurs to you that maybe the best thing for Ziggy, and the best thing for you, might be to get this horse far away from here. You wouldn’t put it past Dale or Donnie or one of his other heartless relatives to sneak into your barn in the dead of night and do something awful. There wouldn’t be a whole lot you could do about it either.

You’ve had this horse for about 5 seconds, and the thought of giving him up already breaks your heart.

Tex has been standing silently beside you. You feel his eyes on you, but in what you suspect is a rare occurrence, he’s not running his mouth, giving you space to think. But when you give a heavy sigh he finally breaks. “Come on, darlin’, I thought this would make you happy. It kills me to see you sad.” He opens his arms to you, but you eye them warily. It’s too tempting by far. The way this man is dangerous to you, is that you could get too used to his company too quick.

“You want breakfast?” you deflect.

He nods, those dark eyes taking the measure of you, looking through you, you’re afraid, right into your soul. “Sure.” But he doesn’t move, still just looking at you. 

“What?” you grouse.

Your annoyance only makes him grin.

“Did I mention you’re the cutest little thing in a muumuu and muck boots this side of the Mississippi?”

You roll your eyes, not believing him for a minute. Your hair is still in its bird’s nest of a sleeping braid and you haven’t had your coffee yet. With hands on your hips you look him over too. He’s still wearing the same shirt as last night, and his eyes are a little bloodshot.

“Did you tie one on last night and steal that horse?”

He scrubs at the back of his neck, looking all the while like a guilty schoolboy. “Well…about that…”

This is the thing that finally breaks through your black mood, lifting your sorrow like a blanket. The thought of this man committing grand theft pony–dare you think it, for you–brings a small smile to your lips, and a whole lot of sunshine to your heart.

“Tell me in the house. I’m hungry.” When he doesn’t immediately budge you turn him by the shoulders and give him a shove. Without really thinking about it, you smack his ass for good measure. That tight little behind is round, and firm, and you bite your lip without meaning to, wishing it was something else.

He makes a show of jumping with surprise, smirking at you knowingly over his shoulder. “Watch it, baby girl, or I’mma get myself a handful next,” he warns you with a wicked glint in his eye that makes your insides churn. 

You don’t know what insane notion possesses you, when you stick out your tongue at him– and run. 

You're smarter than this. You know you don't run from a predator. You face them down and smack them on the nose. 

His laughter from right behind you makes an electric thrill zip from your heart to your toes. Dear Lord. No man should be this much fun. 

He really is like a drug, and you don’t know what you were thinking running from him, because you are not fast, and you are clumsy, but somehow it’s him behind you who lets out a surprised yell.

You turn to find Tex with his foot in a hole up to his calf. “Oh my god. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” He extricates himself, and you both peer down into a tunnel running under the aisle of your dirt floor barn. You look at the direction, and follow it to an unoccupied stall. Throwing open the door, you find mounds and mounds of freshly disturbed earth.

“Motherfucker. That groundhog is back.”

Tex looks at the impressive damage with eyebrows raised high. “Goddam. You sure it ain’t a bear? Or a rogue bulldozer?”

“Yes. I can’t deal with this now. Come on.” You take his hand, pulling him towards the house, and he happily follows.

You pause at the front door. “Umm…it’s going to be chaos for a minute. Fair warning.” Then you lead him into the fray.

Chichi is a tiny black and tan tornado at your feet, yipping and screaming. You shake a treat can and hand one to Tex. “Give this to him if you want to live.”

Raising an eyebrow, Tex complies, crouching down to the little dog’s level to offer the morsel. Chichi gobbles it and quiets down, switching to sniffing and licking as Tex scratches his side. His hand is almost as big as your dog, and it touches your heart, how sweet he is to the little creature. Satisfied, Chichi runs back to you for a snuggle.

“We good now?” you ask the little chihuahua. He licks you fervently, and you laugh, setting him back down on the floor. Your bulldog reacts in the exact opposite manner, not even getting out of her bed, only deigning to open one eye to regard your visitor. Your conure has joined in the cacophony, and will not quiet until you give him a piece of apple.

“I hope you like fresh eggs and bacon, it’s all I got.”

“Alright.” He seems amused by you, and the happy mayhem of your home, looking around with a sparkle in his eye. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure.” You point him in the right direction and go to the kitchen, lighting a burner under your cast iron skillet. You busy yourself with frying bacon and cracking eggs and filling the kettle for coffee. You are so concentrated on your task that it takes you a moment to notice Tex leaning on the door jam–sans shirt.

You blink, and nearly put your hand in the hot pan. “You forget something?” you ask, trying like hell not to stare at the broad expanse of muscled torso before you. Jesus fucking christ, that’s not fair.

“My clean shirts are back at the motel,” he defends. 

His hair is slightly damp from washing up, looking unfairly edible.

He sidles closer, and you notice the top button of his jeans is undone. A long scar runs down the center of his abdomen, leading your eye to a dark patch of hair that disappears into his waistband. 

Evil. This man is pure evil–and you want to taste every inch of him.

“My eyes are up here, darlin’,” he says with a smirk. 

“You are a menace,” you grouse, holding up a spatula in defense as he just keeps getting closer. He smirks, looking down at the implement.

“You gonna spank me, sweetheart?”

“I would, but I’m afraid you’d like it.”

You are warm all over, and it has nothing to do with slaving over a hot stove.

“Can I help?”

Like he hasn’t helped enough.

“Sure. Pour that hot water into that carafe.”

He looks between the french press, the kettle, and you. “Ever heard of a Mr. Coffee?”

“We don’t tolerate weak coffee in this house.”

He grins at you, doing as he’s told. He even knows to stir it with a wooden spoon, which makes you think he was just pulling your leg.

While you are flipping bacon you feel him zero in behind you, the line of warmth from his body like a heat lamp at your back. “Smells wonderful,” he says, daring to touch your waist.

“It’s meat candy, what do you expect?” You’re not sure if you’re talking about the bacon, or him. 

“Hmm.” His chuckle is a low rumble behind you. You feel it reverberate in your bones. The tips of his fingers press into your sides as he grips fistfuls of your nightgown–and you–as he nuzzles your hair. The sound you make as you wiggle in his arms is almost cartoonish. He takes no mercy, laughing and holding you closer. The warm, solid line of his body behind you is divine, so wonderful you can hardly stand it.

“You are going to make me burn the bacon!” you screech in an attempt at self-defense.

“That’s alright, I’ll just eat you for breakfast,” he tells you in that low growl that makes your knees weak, ducking to nibble at your ear. It’s possible you give in for a few seconds, your head rocking back against his shoulder as he holds you. Why does it have to feel like you fit together so well? When his long fingers bunch in your skirt, pulling it up as his other hand reaches for your breast you think you might combust. In a panic you smack his hand with the spatula with a little scream, trying not to giggle. 

“Go sit down!”

With a wicked chuckle he skips out of reach before you can smack him again, collapsing into one of the old wooden kitchen chairs. His smoldering gaze meets yours, and you feel unsettled. 

This man. Lord save you.

Or not. Maybe…you don’t want to be saved.

“I don’t know how you do things in Texas, but here you don’t get to feel a girl up just because you rustled a horse for her.”

He grins, baring his teeth like he means to eat you.

“Sorry, darlin’, blame the muumuu.”

You try to keep a straight face, but in the end you fail utterly. 

“You gonna tell me how all this happened?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“No, but I should.”

“Hmm. Well, after the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met abandoned me at the fair–”

“Oh save it, Mr. L.A. stuntman.”

He grins but goes on, “I had to do something to nurse my broken heart. So I went to the aforementioned TJ’s by the creek…”

“Ok, this is starting to make sense.”

You start setting dishes of food and plates on the table. Eggs, bacon, toast, butter and jam, and of course, coffee. “And I only had one drink, because I’m a cautious sort of fellow…”

“Yes, that has been made glaringly apparent in the short time I've known you.”

He nods in agreement with a fey glint in his eye all the while. “And who walks in, but our friend Dale…”

“Oh god. You didn’t pick a fight with him, did you?”

“I did not. I went out to the parking lot, to find his horse trailer still full of petting zoo employees conveniently two cars away from mine.”

You cover your mouth, so he can’t see the absolutely feral grin forming on your lips. “You didn’t.”

“I so did. Let the goats out to disperse in the woods there, and wouldn’t you know Ziggy fit right in my passenger seat?”

You are picturing this big tough man in his muscle car peeling out down the road with that cute little horse as a co-pilot. That must be the point when you officially lose your sanity, because you crawl into his lap, planting a big kiss right on his mouth. He lets out a low moan of appreciation, cupping your rear end in his two big hands.

“Tex?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“You’re a goddamned hero.”

“I know! I’ve been trying to tell you,” he says with a grin, stealing another kiss.

You try to extricate yourself to go sit in the opposite chair, but he will not let you. You eat breakfast together, sitting in his lap, his big warm hand on your thigh while you giggle and feed each other morsels and talk, and you can’t help but feel like things might turn out afterall.

***

Tex is helping you do the dishes, or maybe distracting you from doing the dishes, because he keeps plying you with toe curling kisses, when the two of you watch a battered red Chevy pickup pull down your driveway.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing it immediately.

“Here we go. Later than I expected.”

You look up at him open mouthed, an involuntary fear response coursing through your veins, turning your limbs ice cold. “You expected?”

“It’s alright, darlin’. Stay inside.” He kisses your forehead, cradling your cheek with a sweet assurance that you want to believe in, more than anything. It would be too good to be true, to have a man who could really protect you. Someone you could just…depend on. You want it with every fiber of your being, and rather than get your shotgun and run out to the porch on bare feet, you stand there in the kitchen and watch Tex go out the door, pulling a white t-shirt down over a blocky black object tucked into the back of his jeans.

Oh Lord. 

Predictably, Dale is driving, and your blood turns to ice as your piece-of-shit ex spills out of the passenger seat. And even though you know the very Devil is standing there in your driveway, your first thought, as ever when seeing Donnie Barksdale, is damn he looks good. 

There really is something wrong with you. 

He’s wearing a flannel with the sleeves cut off and his usual trucker hat advertising some manner of farm implement (as if he’s ever worked that hard). As always, the sight of Donnie feels like a sharp knife shoved up between your ribs. No matter what he did to you, a part of you will always love that man, or at least, the boy he was when he was your friend, your first love, before he became so hell bent on destroying you. To this day, you do not understand what you ever did to that man, to make him turn on you so violently. You offered him all the love in your heart, and in turn he made you feel worthless. For a time, you actually believed it was true. Now you know better, but it’s been a long, hard road.

“Who the hell are you?” barks Donnie up at the self-assured man standing sentry on your front porch. 

“That’s not what you should be worryin’ about right now,” answers Tex, leaning on the post. 

“That a fact?” 

“Yep. The thing you should be worryin’ about is that you’re trespassin’.” 

Dale exits his truck, leaning on the dented hood. “That’s the fucker that hit me last night, Donnie.” 

Donnie nods, sizing Tex up. The thing about Donnie is…he doesn’t like to get into a fight he doesn’t know he’s going to win. And Tex is a helluva wildcard. It’s possible your no-good wife-beatin’ ex finally met his match. 

“He’s leaving out the bit about askin’ for it. Is beatin’ on y/n y/l/n just a universal pastime in this county for you boys when you run outta pigs to fuck, or what?” drawls Tex, picking at his fingernails. 

Donnie bristles at this, taking a step forward. “Motherfucker–” 

“That’s as far as you go, son,” warns Tex, producing the object from the back of his jeans. You knew it was a gun. You did not know it was that big of a gun. Donnie is wearing his usual inscrutable aviators, but Dale’s eyes go wide. 

“We’re just here to get my stolen horse, mister,” says Dale, holding his hands up. 

“Aww, you boys missin’ your lil’ pony? Better check the lost and found then. It ain’t here.” 

“We’ll have a look for ourselves,” spits Donnie, stepping towards the barn. 

Boom!

The report of the pistol is deafening, and the bullet sends up an explosion of gravel right in front of Donnie’s feet. The dogs and the bird go crazy, starting up and barking and screeching. Donnie jumps backwards three feet, his glasses falling off into the dirt. The expression of fear on his face is as rare as it is priceless. 

“You crazy asshole!”

You scoop up Chichi, trying to comfort him. The little dog trembles like a leaf in your arms. You murmur nonsense to it, but your eyes are glued to the confrontation outside, adrenaline rolling through your veins like flash flood water. You realize you’re shaking almost as badly as the dog. 

“Guilty. Ever seen a Desert Eagle? Shoots a big fuckin’ bullet. A .50 caliber round will explode your kneecap like an apple.” Tex whistles with appreciation, and you’re pretty sure Donnie goes pale. “Wanna test my aim today? I might miss and hit you in the balls.” 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this the way you are, but God did that man have it coming. 

 “We should call the Sheriff on you!” 

“Please do. This is a ‘stand your ground’ state. We can tell him about how you’re trespassing, and I’m pretty sure you ain’t supposed to be within 300 yards of that pretty little thing watchin’ us from the kitchen.” 

Donnie’s attention zeroes in on the window, and you sense it like a laser sight fixed upon you. You hate it, how just that hateful look makes you flinch. 

“Y/n!” Donnie calls. “Come out here!” 

“She don’t need to come out here,” says Tex. “She ain’t gonna save you.” 

Donnie seems actually surprised, when you do not obey him, staying put in your spot in the kitchen. 

When the two men just stand there in the driveway, frozen and speechless, Tex cocks the pistol for show. “You need another demonstration? Git!”

“This ain’t over, fucker!” spits Donnie, pointing menacingly–from a safe distance. 

“You better hope it is. Don’t come back, and if either one of you ever touches her again I’ll kill you. That’s a promise. Now get the fuck out of here!” 

Spoiling for a fight but clearly outgunned, the two men back towards the truck, slowly climbing in. “There you go. See ya, bronies!” 

Tex waves the pistol in their direction, and you hear Donnie yell at Dale, “Fuck! Drive! Drive!”

Dale peels out, leaving ruts in your gravel and a dust cloud as they go.

Tex stays on the porch watching until their truck is good and gone. When he finally makes it back into the house you are a teary-eyed little mess. When he sees you the flint in his eyes immediately softens. “Aw, don’t cry honey, c’mere.” You do, and with your head resting on the solid warm wall that is this man’s chest you start to lose it. 

“You actually did it.” 

“Course I did. I told you I would,” he says, stroking your hair as he holds you.

“But…you actually did it,” you say again, because you still cannot believe what just happened. No man has managed to stand up to Donnie Barksdale since your Grandpa, at 80 years old, who stood between you and Donnie in the very same spot on the porch, with the same 12 gauge you still keep behind the hutch, and threatened to cut your then-husband in half if he took another step closer. 

It was the last night Donnie beat on you, and broke your orbital bone, two of your teeth, and your arm. You’d escaped into the dark woods that night, and even though you are not stealthy or fast you managed by some miracle to make it through the brush and thorns and barbed wire fences the two miles to your grandparents’ farm house. It was the last straw, and you finally set the wheel in motion to divorce him the next day. 

You are not a pretty crier, but Tex lets you soak his shirt with tears and snot, holding you and murmuring sweet nonsense. “That’s right, honey, get it out. It’s ok.”

For once, it doesn’t sound like an empty placation. Donnie seemed genuinely scared of Tex, and Dale is an even bigger coward than Donnie. Maybe…they really will just leave you alone. 

Stranger things have happened. 

“I’m sorry,” you wheeze, trying to pull away to get a tissue. “I’m a mess.” 

But Tex pulls you back, not seeming to care one bit, and when his lips touch yours it really does seem like everything in the world has turned right. 

Amusingly, Chichi has been sandwiched between all this in your arms, and only just begins to put up a grumble of protest. “Oh hush, lil buddy,” says Tex, not unkindly, scratching the little dog under the chin. He does nearly the same thing to you, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod and offer a watery smile, setting the dog down on the ground. It’s not what Chichi wants, but he’ll live. “Yes. Thank you.” 

If Donnie believed what Tex said…you do too. There is something dangerous about this man. A wildness that makes his threat feel like a promise. You guess that when the law fails you, what you truly need is an outlaw who keeps his word. Yet you truly believe he’s not a danger to you. You feel safe with him, and maybe that’s the biggest miracle of all. 

“As silly as this sounds after the morning we’ve had…I really do have to go to work.” 

“Alright. I’ll drive you.” A part of you wants to say it’s not necessary. But the other half of you? Just wants to bask in this new found feeling of security while it lasts. You can’t expect Tex to stick around forever to babysit you. But for right now…god, it feels good, to not have to carry this weight all on your own shoulders. 

You kiss him again, and it is warm, and sweet as sugar cookies fresh from the oven. You melt into him, and with his strong arms around your waist, then lower, it is very hard to get up the motivation to go clean up and put on your uniform. 

“Honey, you keep kissin’ me like that and we’re not goin’ anywhere.” 

It’s embarrassing, but you know the sound you make in answer is something like a cat in heat, your fingers curling in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You feel his words inside you–in the rhythm of your heart, and the throb of your loins. It’s damn near unbearable, this sudden restlessness you feel inside.

You don’t have anyone else to depend on, so you always have to do the responsible thing. Go to work. Get the money. Pay the bills. No one escapes the bullshit death march of Capitalism, except the fuckers who are running the game.

And yet. Maybe…just this once…you could call in sick. 

You stand on tiptoe to kiss him again, grabbing fistfuls of the fluffy waves of his now dried hair. “Tex?” 

“Yeah, baby.” His voice is pure honey dripping golden in the sun. 

“Let’s go upstairs.” His big hands flex against the soft curves of your hips, grabbing fistfuls of nightgown like he’s thinking about tearing it off of you. Incredibly, he says nothing glib, just nods. But when he looks down at you for a long, heated moment–you think he could burn down the world, with the fire in that dark gaze. 

“Lead the way, darlin’.” 

You take his big, beautiful hands in yours, and pull him towards the stairs.

[coralinnii]

You don’t have to do this right away but Part two for idia? Its okay if you dont feel like doing it, just remember to rest and take breaks!

"If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice"  feat: Idia genre: drama notes: sequel to “being reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy” Idia ver., roughly 1.2k word count, mentions of blo*d, d*ath, and life-threatening situations, is there a gn equivalent of a himbo? cuz slight himbo!reader energy, unspecified beasts,

Finally, it’s here! The long-awaited villain/ess au sequel to the final housewarden (sorry Idia and Idia simps). Admittedly, this is not so much romantic as more fleshing out of their story :p whoops. I might make a continuation of the aftermath of this but I felt like this is a decent stopping point for now. 

Since accepting his growing feelings with you, Idia has been on an emotional roller coaster where he likes being around you but being around you makes him nervous to the point of almost puking. He finds himself glowing, both metaphorically and literally whenever you drop by and it doesn’t help when you seem to enjoy his personal space, seeing as you always bring yourself into said space. 

He knew that if he voiced his discomfort, you would make your best effort to distance yourself but the mere idea of that doesn’t make him feel too happy either. He’s grown accustomed to seeing your eyes sparkle at his new innovations, your warmth as you scoot closer to him on the couch, your voice when you share your random thoughts and questions

“Have you ever dreamt of your own death?” 

Ok, maybe he’s not too accustomed to everything you say

For a while now, you’ve experienced dreams that seem to burn themselves into your memories, forcing you to remember every detail as though the world compels you to. These dreams showed you snippets of life that seemed so real and scarily bears similarity to the real world. Your dreams foretold events in the near future which used to scare you to the point you begged your siblings to stay with you at night, assuring you it meant nothing. 

In truth, you wondered if you were given a strange and powerful gift but one thing about your visions stopped that train of thought. In your dreams, you tend to behave and act in ways you never would. The you in these dreams was spoiled and mean, especially to the Shroud family which you could never bring yourself to do in a million years. Because of that, you assumed your strange visions to be your imagination going wild. An alternative reality that didn’t happen.

But for the past few weeks, you were visioning your terrible end taking place in an expedition alongside your brother. You saw yourself perish at the hands of a feral beast with your brother then seeing your sister cry over your body and proclaiming to avenge your deaths, believing it to be the doing of the Shroud family. 

“What a strange dream, right?” You laughed in hopes to play off the absurdity of it all. “It’s just that…I've been seeing that dream more often now. I guess I’m more nervous about the expedition than I realise”

If it were someone else, you may have been considered strange or even going crazy. You thought Idia would see you that way or at best, try to convince you that it was nothing more than a wild fantasy, like your family does. 

But Idia was not a typical man. 

To be fair, you were not a typical person to him either. If it were anyone else, Idia wouldn’t care less about their troubles or at best, do the bare minimum to get them off his back. But it was the person who unknowingly stole his heart and watching you visibly affected by your disturbing visions persuaded him to seriously consider your words. 

“Tell me everything you saw” 

And lucky he did.  

Your father taught you a lot of things. How to swing your sword with gusto, to grit your teeth and dig in your heels when anticipating a blow, and to stand your ground no matter the odds. But he never told you how painful a racing heart can be or how loud the sound of blood rushing through your system is. Although, you supposed you can forgive him since he would never want to imagine you coming face-to-face to a deranged beast as your own blood blurred your vision. 

During your expedition, you and your siblings encountered a group of disorientated beasts and while this was nothing new to you, these creatures were more unpredictable in comparison to your previous encounters with this species. It was as though they were fighting something internally and your squadron was unfortunately caught in the crossfire. The large beasts were demolishing things in their vicinity, indiscriminately knocking down anything and anyone without care. 

Their unpredictable attacks ultimately led to one of them taking a vicious swing towards you and your brother, sending you both over a tall cliff with the large beast tumbling after from the force of its own attack. 

You vividly recalled this scene, as it was foretold in your dreams. You were trapped and wounded with your brother unconscious after taking the brunt of the attack when shielding you. You willed yourself to keep a strong grip on your sword. If your dreams truly turn to reality, you and your brother will meet an untimely end here. 

“Great heavens, give me strength to protect my brother” you prayed as you took one more long breath before letting out a feral roar. 

You ran full speed towards the rampaging beast, putting all your strength into your swing to sever its leg, hoping to incapacitate its movement. Unfortunately, your depleted strength and eyesight left your attempt with a sizable wound but not enough to deter the giant. 

Your blood has now ran cold as you realise the severity of your situation. Partially blinded and hurt, you were helpless in front of the deranged beast. Your tears mixed with the blood that cascaded over your eyes but you thought there was no use in wiping away the mess on your face. 

In your fearful madness, you thought you might as well make your last moment memorable. You turned your head towards the sky, intending to stare at the beast with as much defiance, refusing to show fear towards any foe. 

But something was odd 

Since the encounter with the beasts, they were nothing but aggressive monsters, agitated and reckless in motion and action. Every moment with them was spent defending yourself from their endless attacks. 

So why does it seem peaceful? 

Even with a wound on its leg, the beast’s body was relaxed like it was in pure relief from whatever was ailing them. If you weren’t just glad you’re still alive, you might have been a little offended by the lack of interest the beast had on you. 

With the rush of adrenaline slightly fading, you started taking notice of your senses a bit more, your injuries were being recognised, you felt the burn in your legs from the stress…and you felt a strange sensation on your wrist. 

Looking down, you found the source to be the beast radar device made by Idia. You found it strange since it wasn’t nearly this hot even when you first came in contact with the beasts earlier but now, the device was evidently warm and you could sense an aura-like energy being emitted from it. You weren’t confident but you wondered if Idia added something more to your device. And it was affecting the beast before you.

Daring to test your theory, you slowly stepped back from the beast, angling your wrist further from the beast, observing the facial changes of the creature. True to your hypothesis (but unfortunately so), the beast’s body started shaking as though something unpleasant had returned to it. You wanted to celebrate your eureka moment but acknowledged this may not be the best time. 

Then, like a gallant warrior, a figure appeared seemingly from the heavens and with a swift motion, speared the beast’s head from above. The creature let out a final painful roar before crashing down before your feet. You looked above to see your sister perched atop the beast, covered in sweat and blood. 

Your sister jumped from her position and ran to you, encasing you in a tight embrace. You noticed how your sister was shaking with palpable fear. 

“You’re alive. Thank the heavens you’re both alive” your usually level-headed sister cried into your sister as she wrapped her arms tighter, which you’re impressed she still could. 

Although, you were grateful for the embrace as you felt your legs give out under you from exhaustion. Your sister worriedly called out your name as she supported your weight but incredibly, you just let out a laugh. 

Against the odds and contrary to your haunting dreams, you were alive. 

Was it strange you thought of Idia when you realised that? 

[honeybeefae]

Finding Home (Lucien Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// Lucien had always felt like he was a wandering soul, never having a true place to call home. It was hard to deal with, to see others belonging and happy while he tried to find something to cling to that gave him the same feeling. It wasn’t until Starfall, when you gifted him something truly special, that he finally found out where he belonged. 

(Poor little Lucien needs all the love in the world and I thought he was perfect for this prompt. I hope you enjoy!:))

Prompt: Character A gifts Character B something heartfelt.

WARNINGS: None

Lucien sat with everyone at Rita’s as they passed drinks around, conversation flowing easily between them. Well, all except him. He was at the very edge of the table, fiddling with his glass of amber liquid while looking towards the door every few seconds. 

He didn’t even understand why he went to these things. Feyre always invited him but he constantly felt like he was intruding on them. No one really talked to him besides maybe once or twice, too engrossed with their friends and mates to notice that he was still there. 

And while he liked to think of himself above the need to have friends, deep down he was lonely. Tamlin was lost, his brothers were monsters, Feyre was busy with her own life, and he didn’t connect with any of the others besides acquaintances. 

It was the same day in and day out, leaving him wondering if he truly belonged nowhere, until you joined their group. You were a friend of Nesta’s that ran a local bookshop in Velaris, your cheerful demeanor making it easy for you to fall in with the rest of them. He had expected to simply exchange pleasantries with him and move on but for whatever reason, you latched onto him.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late! Took forever to close up shop.” You apologized as you walked in the door, breaking him from his thoughts as several people greeted you warmly. “Have I missed anything?”

“Not much, Cassian and Rhys are seeing who can outdrink each other while Nesta is already showing both of them up. I think Azriel and Elain are out dancing?” Feyre shrugged, handing you a spare drink. “Other than that it’s been a pretty tame night.”

“For once.” You wink at her, looking over and finding Lucien sitting by himself. He perks up when you drag a chair over beside him, clinking your glasses together with a smile.

“And how is my favorite fox doing?” You chirped, taking a sip and enjoying the warm burn the alcohol gave you.

Lucien rolled his eye, his body immediately relaxing in your presence. “Better now that I’ve got someone interesting to talk to.” He replied, noting the way your cheeks slightly pinkened. 

“It’s not my fault you refuse to play nice with any of the others. Perhaps if you stopped brooding away in a corner, people might actually approach you.” You teased with a wink, looking around the bar casually. “Hells, you’d be surprised at the people you can pick up from this place.”

“Oh, you know something about that, do you? And here I thought you were a spinster content with books and cats.”

You stuck your tongue at his jest, hitting his arm playfully. “I know more than you think I do, thank you very much.”

There was a tension that was now swirling between the two of you, the conversation taking on a much more suggestive tone that was about to cross a line of no return. He stared at you, trying to not let his imagination run wild right in front of you before you awkwardly cleared your throat and looked away.

“So, are you looking forward to Starfall?” You changed the subject quickly, taking another sip.

“Uh, I guess?” Lucien responded hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking out the window at the night sky. “Not so much for the party.”

“Oh, that’s the best part! The music, the food, the atmosphere, it’s enchanting. I haven’t met anyone that didn’t enjoy it.”

“It’s just not for me. I don’t fit in with the rest of them that enjoy it.”

Your mouth twisted into a frown at his words, a look of pity in your eyes. He saw it and scoffed, looking at you sternly and saying, “Don’t give me that look, Y/N. I don’t need your pity.”

“It wasn’t pity, Lucien, I just hate that you feel that way. You know it’s not true.” You said earnestly, placing your hand over his in a moment of tenderness. “I think you just need-”

“I don’t need anything, Y/N. I’m perfectly happy as I am.” He snapped, looking away when you flinched at his tone. “Sure, after Jurian and Vassa became a thing and I got kicked out, I was once again by myself, but apparently that’s just how the Mother wants me to be. I can deal with that, I don’t need sympathy.”

His words were harsh and he didn’t mean half of them, he just had a hard time whenever someone felt sorry for him like he was some sort of lost child. It hurt his pride and it reminded him that despite his protests, that’s exactly what he was. No home to return to, no family to miss him, and some nights he would just yearn for someone out there to care about him.

It made him feel pathetic, to want something like that.

You weren’t entirely buying his macho act. Anyone that had been through what he had been through would feel at least some pain from it. And although you hadn’t known Lucien as long as the rest of your friends, you knew he struggled with it.

However, you didn’t want to push him anymore tonight, raising your hands in surrender before finishing the rest of your drink. He watched you carefully, feeling guilt gnaw at him from the way he had attacked you for simply being concerned. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, standing up to go join the rest of your friends who were now dancing. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to hit himself over the head when you walked away, feeling like the world's biggest asshole. This was the reason he didn’t have anybody in his life, this was the reason people didn’t stay with him long. It wasn’t the cauldron cursing him, it was his own damn self. 

The music was loud as he gathered his things and left the club, looking back just long enough to catch you chatting up a man at the bar before forcing himself to leave to go back to his apartment. He was already dreading tomorrow.

Starfall, House of Wind

It was crowded and loud, full of people he didn’t know as he lounged against a balcony rail. The sky was already dark as well as the rest of the city, everyone gathered around as they impatiently waited for the souls to rain across the sky.

You hadn’t shown up yet, not that he should be looking for you after what he said to you. Feyre and Rhys had given him a cordial welcome, as well as Cassian, but other than that he was by himself. As the minutes ticked by he started to contemplate just going home and watching it from his window.

That was until he felt a warm hand slide down his arm, making him turn in surprise. You were leaning beside him, one of your arms tucked behind your back and a coy smile on your lips.

“Being a wallflower again, Lucien?” You teased, goosebumps rising on your arms from the chilly air. “It took me a while to find you.”

“Y/N, I didn’t think you would show up.” He breathed, standing up to fully face you. “I wanted to apologize for last night, what I said was harsh and-”

“Hush, I don’t want to hear you grovel to me. You’ll ruin Starfall.” You said sternly, moving your arm from behind your back to reveal what you were hiding. It was a small yellow box, with a ribbon tied delicately on top. It fit in the palm of your hand and Lucien was very confused.

“Who is that for?” He questioned, glancing around to see if anyone else was exchanging gifts. “Is it someone’s birthday?”

You huffed in frustration, grabbing his hand and prying it open before laying the box in it. “It’s for you. Honestly, how you are an emissary is beyond me.” The jab made him smirk, his fingers holding the box as if it were made of glass.

“You got me a gift?”

“It’s a Starfall gift. Some people give gifts to their loved ones, some don’t, it’s a personal preference.” You shrug, anxiously looking between him and the box. “Open it!’

Lucien stared at it, processing what you had just said. Loved ones. Was that what he was to you? Or was he reading too much into it? Would it be awkward to ask you that now? He suddenly felt like a schoolboy again, afraid to talk to the pretty girl in front of him. 

He gave you one last cautious glance before slowly undoing the bow on top, tucking it into his coat pocket before softly opening the box. 

It was a small key, made of light bronze with an intricate design on the top. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out what it was too. You bit down on your lip, hoping the dots would connect, but when he just stood there staring you groaned loudly.

“It’s a key to my house, Lucien.” You explain, grinning from ear to ear when his mouth dropped open. “I thought it would be nice for you to have somewhere to go to if you didn’t want to go back to the apartment.”

The silence was deafening and suddenly you were worried you had just completely screwed up your relationship. He was just standing there, staring at the key, and as the seconds ticked by your anxiety grew.

“If it’s too weird or you don’t like it you can tell me, it won’t hurt my feelings you.” You said softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as he continued to be speechless. “It’s a stupid gift, here I can take it-”

Suddenly you found yourself being crushed into his chest, his arms wrapping around tightly in a hug that immediately made you relax. Lucien’s heart was overflowing with different emotions, his mind trying to sort through it all as he held you as close as possible.

You had given him a key to your home, your life practically, inviting him to share it with you. Even though he had pushed you away and put up that barrier, you had seen right through him. You had just given him a home.

Lucien pulled back and looked down into your eyes, tilting your chin up so that you could see just how happy he was with your gift. “Y/N, you have no idea how much this means.”

A blush crept onto your face as you smiled bashfully. “I just wanted you to know that no matter what, you had a home to go back to. Everyone needs that.”

People around you gasped and you turned to look out into the sky, cheering when the first few souls raced across the sky. It was just as beautiful as you remember, your entire body leaning forward as the souls grew and grew until the entire sky was lit up. 

The music started up shortly after that, people dancing and glasses clinking as the celebration began. You didn’t notice how Lucien was staring at you, watching as you stared in amazement into the sky.

“I mean, how can you not think this is heavenly?” You sigh, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “This is why I love Starfall.” 

He looked out towards the black, inky night and took it all in. The souls, the music, your gift, you, it was like he was in a dream. Lucien bent down beside you, taking your same position, and nudged your shoulder with his as he said, “I think I’m starting to love it too.”

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

u might want to cut this ask into 2... sorry?

so more like cantrips vs full blown artifacts, that eases so many worries. i wonder if anyone would change their vote knowing this lol.

you wanted ideas? lets build off the new info from the artifacts! im running off the assumptions that this is pre curse break.

the phoenix stone- reader could be stuck in rain, trying to stay warm by lighting up the stone, but as the weather gets more windy and the sun goes down it starts getting too cold to stay on, reader tries warm breaths and body heat just to get it starting so it can self sustain on its own heat from its flames. bonus if she is actively putting herself in harms way to warm it up so the monkeys can use it as a heat source.

forest stone- reader could grow plants from home, maybe native food from home and just have a bittersweet interaction over getting to see native crops but being unable to consume them safely. maybe reader grows a garden someday? a bouquet for a would-be human lover? or after they 'mysteriously' disappear, flower crowns for the monkeys? a garden would be nice to remind reader of home

for the healing part of the stone, reader could heal the monkey duo! what's not to say the curse slowed down their healing? imagine the bonding from one of the monkey duo seeing reader doing their very best to patch up the other? they could fake injuries to try and get more one on one 'healing' time. or reader could try and fail to heal a fever, and rely on traditional methods to break it.

the shield amulet- it may be impenetrable, but is it immovable? can reader move while its up? because if she cant, its a test of patience that the monkey duo will win. she cant grow food it will be too slow. she could threaten to eat something fatal tho… playing with fire there. what is stopping sun wukong from stealing it in readers sleep? nothing. bet the only reason he hasn't is because his mate convinced him that its the equivalent of a stuffed toy for reader : it makes her feel safe, even if it really doesn't lol.

im going to straight up guess that the glamor mask is either your oc appearance or a demon monkey form. would be funny if it were a genderbend mask tho. just straight up switch the gender if they try and pull gender related shenanigans. "what princess/queen? i only see men between the 3 of us"

just as i was about to hit send, a wild idea approaches!

[maybe i will polish this and put it on ao3 when i have the time, the will and the patience, probably not though]

this is way outside the scope of the artefact's powers but imagine if reader dies inside the shield, and it stays up. they can't shatter it, and the forest stone slowly but surely grows around the shield, hiding readers body from view.

the plants outside can be cut down, but the plants inside can't. the duo have to deal with the fact that, slowly but surely, reader's body is being hidden from them, and one day will be the last day they will ever see her, inside her would-be coffin, the thing that stopped them from saving her.

oh, how they regretted not throwing it away when they had the chance and now it will not even give them the ability to give her a proper burial. away from flower fruit mountain, will she buried under the sands of time forgotten, left to rot?

unacceptable. clones are left behind to guard her final resting place, the plants growing to make a flowerbed for reader to rest on. any who approach are struck down without mercy.

in the meantime, they need to make a visit to Diyu.

inside the shell of a last stand, a metamorphosis takes place.

they come back, heartbroken. she was not from these lands, and thus was not taken by those reigning over the dead. there was no name to strike from the records, no spirit to rescue from diyu.

they come back to see the site that they left so lovingly preserved in ruins.  all the plants that were growing were trampled and dying, the area carved by the fights the clones must have put up. not a single one was left.

and worst of all, in the very center of it all, the final resting spot was disturbed.

someone took her. somebody had the GALL to break in and steal her body from her final resting place, and they weren't even here to protect her!

they weren't able to protect her again, protect the last thing they had of her.

they would make sure that the perpetrator will wish they had lost to the clones.

above them all, in the treetops, a monkey cub holds its breath, watching.

lmao, i was going down the angst train at full speed, but decided describing the grieving process and the false hope i was giving them only to brutally crush it before their very eyes was maybe a sign i was going too far on the angst ride. idk how much angst is acceptable here so i decided to make reader turn into a monkey for the lols.

i wonder if they would be able to see through it using their true sight. hahaha must suck to the one stuck as a monkey cub now huh?

i like to imagine that reader gets found by them but they don't realise its her, just as she doesn't realise it's them[she died while they were still cursed], and they decide to adopt her in memory of the human who cared for 2 cubs she saw needed help. and reader gets to be at ground zero to see these two warlords grieve.

who does she think they are grieving for?

OBVIOUSLY THE MONKEY CUBS SHE HAD WITH HER, ARE YOU STUPID?? THERE WAS NO WAY THEY SURVIVED THE ATTACK, AND THERE WERE TWO FLOWER BOUQUETS FOR THE TWO CUBS THAT MATCHED THEIR COLOR SCHEME AND THEY LOOKED JUST LIKE THE CUBS! WHY ON EARTH WOULD TWO MONKEY DEMON WARLORDS GRIEVE FOR HER???

truly a foolish thought that could only come from such a foolish human to die such a stupid death and make the cubs die with her!

she was back, but they weren't. she wasn't the one to pay the ultimate price for her mistake.

did spirit grieve for her? did she come back only to she that she had died while she was away, reluctantly leaving to find a nearby village only after reader reassured her that she would be safe with the shield amulet, that it would be alright.

and they died because of her. spirit had to come back to their corpses because of her. the monkey demon pairing had to come back to their children's corpses because of her.

i would imagine the experience made her more introverted. more quiet, less willing to make friends. effectively mute. while the shield from the amulet may have fallen, another shield has formed around her heart.

would the monkey duo realise that reader was with them? would they brush it off as wishful thinking, as them projecting their false hopes onto a random monkey that perhaps they weren't too weak, too late? would they draw parallels between their curse and the cub in front of them? would they beg her for a sign?

would reader, drowning in guilt, give it to them?

what would the troop think? they see their kings grieving, ignoring the cub sometimes to go on rampages, and other times begging at its feet as if to ask for salvation. what sort of life is this for that poor cub, to have to endure their grief-induced psychosis?

no, it would be best for the cub to grow in a stable environment, at the very least until the kings recover from their grief.

it takes the duo 5 days to realise what has happened. it's hard to remember about the cub you so callously adopt when you are too busy going off on rampages throughout heaven and earth after all.

when the duo finds out why the cub is missing they just collapse, emotionally. reader is dead. she isn't coming back. and there is nothing they can do about it. the monkey duo don't leave their bed nest and are inconsolable.

reader feels bad for them, it's all her fault after all, that they lost their kids[she still believes this]. so she goes into their room, where they reminisce aloud about reader, and reader, who is unintentionally eavesdropping, finally figures out that A) its HER that they're grieving, and B) THEY'RE HER CUBS! THEY'RE NOT DEAD! SHE DIDNT KILL THEM!

she is so relieved she starts crying, and they hear her call out for them, not by the names everyone knows them as, but the nickname they got from the one person they miss the most:

"plums? peaches?"

denial, if i remember right, is the first stage of grief. they're in denial at first. who wouldn't be? they saw her die, they saw her die. their eyes cant lie their ears can't lie their nose can't lie she was dead dead DEAD-

anger is next i think. how dare that cub call them by those names, only reader can call them by those names! only she can, only her, only her!

but how could the cub know those names if not for her?

bargaining is the third stage.  its quite an odd thing, to bargain with the small, fluttering bit of hope inside of you. to bargain with oneself, to say that you will believe that if its her if she says it again, if she says something again, if she says anything again!-

"is it really you?"

you wouldn't expect to hit depression, would you? reader is back! They're back and they were here the entire time! they've been leaving you alone all this time, grieving for you all this time, and you were here all this time all along. so many tears, so much misery, and when they find out that you were here the entire time, the only thing they can feel is numbness as they reach out to you.

and you

reach back.

being crushed in an embrace between the two, you feel the shaking first, their tears streaming down their cheeks. you hug them as tightly as you can. they hug you back.

and as you look into their eyes you see acceptance. acceptance of the fact that you are back that is is real that you are in their arms, alive, here-!

that they love you too much to let you go.

while they dont care if you arent human or not, it is a bit worrying that you turned into a cub, like they did. did the curse transfer to you? is this something new?

after talking things through, you realise most of the artefacts 'malfunctioned' in a way. the shield didn't fall even in death, the forest stone grew plants nonstop around you. you found them on you and took them with you.

what happened to the glamor mask and phoenix stone?

sun wukong and macaque swear up and down that they searched, and not a single artifact left your bubble.[they were looking for something, anything of yours that they could keep on their person because you were dead-].

you had them all on you. and well, you did come back from the dead, right?

but that doesnt explain the where the glamor mask went! you didnt have it on you! you would have known if-

...

you tear off [not your face not your face NOT YOUR FACE]

the mask

off of your face.

...

a giggle leaves your mouth. well that was a bit silly wasn't it! if you had less self control and clawed off not your face perhaps this would have been solved much earlier!

well at least you were with your monkeys again.

________

ok now i gotta stop for real. i wrote this with no sleep so ahve mercy on spelling mistakes that slip through. have a nice day

Sorry about the confusion 😅. I always thought artifacts were old enchanted items so it didn't cross my mind to explain all of the weaknesses. Was probably going to later but eh who knows when it's me we're talking about.

For the heat, she would totally put herself into danger trying to get it to work. Spirit of course would try to bundle her up in clothes but they don't have all that many. (Spirit is covered in thick fur and less perceptible to the cold, which makes it worse for her because she can't stand the fact that her sister is probably freezing to death)

The monkey duo would be curled up in her arms trying to both be warm and share their heat with her. They'd probably be snuggled up against her chest holding onto her undershirt for closer skin contact as that would help aid in real warmth. They can't even enjoy this because of how cold they are! (It helps them decide that it's best she stay on Flower Fruit Mountain where she would always have the supplies she needs to stay safe and warm)

For the Forest Stone - I could totally see Reader making flowers. Oh, a human man thinks they're pretty. Here, he can have them sure. Cue monkey duo finding a way for this human to go missing. Was he a lover? They wouldn't care. He was a threat because he might become one. They can't let that happen, not at all. She was there human, theirs!

Another thought goes to your idea with the healing stone! Oh my word, these two would be trying for snuggles so badly that they would totally do that. A little scrape on the hand, it's not bleeding and doesn't even bruise, but it 'hurts.' Reader would try to help them immediately, of course. It's just another reason they want to keep her, once they decide they are going to.

For the patience on the sheild Macaque would obviously win in a test of patience. Depending on the situation there could be another thing that happens.

Reader can summon the sheild anywhere, I'm yoinking the idea of it being immovable to an extent. She can only summon one sheild and that sheild can be summoned to protect someone else. In order to move it she has to deactivate it and reactivate it. So that gives a window of opportunity for the Monkey duo.

Say she has the sheild up and then a group of human merchants come to pass by. Well, the Monkey duo likes her, yes, but who's to say they won't threaten the merchants. (They totally would if they are desperate enough) cue Reader making the sheild cover them. Which, of course, leaves her open to 'attacks' one attack being bombarded in snuggles and kisses.

>>><<<

Idea for the fic idea. I loved your idea with the glamour mask. But- I forgot to mention that the mask is still visible while the user is glamoured. (If you make a fic with an altered mask that isn't visible, that is absolutely fine. I would definitely read it for sure.)

So personally, I'd just have the curse kinda transfer to Reader instead. Depending on when the found her depends on if Wukong has his gold vision yet. Since this starts before the war on heaven, he doesn't have it because he hasn't gotten stuck in the furnace yet.

Also, they would totally take Reader in, even before meeting Reader or any of that. Orphan monkey cubs are always welcome in their home (they are quite biased to their own kind, so they are always offered a place in their kingdom. That's not to say some refuse or still fight them, of course)

Yes, the Monkey duo would definitely travel to diyu and return heartbroken. Would her body still be there probably not, if it's because she actually died she might get pulled back to her world and that might save her.

Or if the curse was transfered to her hoho, now her reaction on telling them would depend on so many things. She might feel guilty thinking they are grieving their cub but seeing the absolute devastation they cause would be terrifying.

Once she learns that it's her that they are doing this for she might get more terrified or be happy. She would be happy her monkeys survived, and she could still be terrified at the absolute power they held.

What would they do with her when they learned the truth? She'd heard stories about these two, Spirit tells her about them, and her monkey friends had liked listening to stories. (Wukong probably liked hearing the fear and terror he spread around)

Did they want revenge that she dragged them with her when they fought at first? If so, why were they mad she was gone? Did they want to make her a breeding mate? There were some demons that tried during her journey. They wouldn't want to make her a true wife, right? She was just a human woman, and the Monkey duo hated humans. She had passed through a town devastated by their kingdom before.

So maybe she would be too terrified to let them know, maybe she'd try to find a way to break the curse and return home. She might try to hide from them more.

In this case they might pick her up and as gentle as they can force her to let them take care of her. Via spoon feeding, and making sure she drinks water. And since she's so young they would make her sleep in their nest with them.

There are so many ways this story could go, both happy and joyful or sad and fearful. You said angst well how would the Monkey duo feel about the one they love being too scared of them to let them help break the curse? They would be so happy she's alive yet so scared of how much weaker and smaller she is verses how she already was.

If she tried to escape before they find out and failed. Oh boy there would be no getting away from them once they learn the truth.

But of course if she's not afraid of them, then she'd probably try to communicate who she is. With broken chirps as she doesn't know tne language at first, the curse would probably mess with the communication that she was granted. So cue her trying to learn the language so she can tell her heartbroken monkeys that it's her, she is reader. Since they don't call her Reader and probably gave her a different name. Oh the possibilities.

>>><<<

I would love to hear your thoughts on this! Everyone is welcome to send me an ask about these! I was bouncing in my seat as I read this ask, I loved the fic! To know my fanfiction helped inspire it 🥰 makes me feel so cozy.

Please send me more ideas, if you have them. No pressure. Or you can just send me something to say you liked my idea or not.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Did someone say Kanej coded songs by indie artists who deserve more attention? Probably not but I’m gonna give you some anyway

I’m going to limit myself to putting one or two lyrics with each song but just know that I’m picking and choosing from loads of good options they aren’t the only lyrics that work 😁

Pray by The Amazing Devil - “God made all man in his image but honey I’m no man I’m what’s left when children go to war” “Why womanhood is more than crying I’m stronger now than you have ever known, the cracks you made I’ll fill with mortar a broken pot can still hold water”

Metaphor by The Crane Wives - “I’ve gotten good at leaning on metaphors, I’ve gotten good at living on someone else’s page, I cut my teeth on second hand sentiments, you can’t trust a single thing I say” “I keep my closet free of skeletons, ‘cause I’m much better at digging graves, but I always dig up bones in your sympathy, I can’t trust a single thing you say” (I actually have an edit to this that I haven’t posted yet so I guess let me know if anyone wants to see that)

Three Spectres by J Maya this song is the reason I started making edits - “I wonder how people can talk about the past and go to bed, the space around me feels with spectres of what I should have said. The past is a presence, the future is pretend, and the present is a pastor trying to make it all make sense. Will I ever leave this place? This world that I am trying to break? The mind is such a funny space, with these spectres centre stage”

Falling by Florence + the Machine I guess this is kinda borderline indie but I’m counting it and this is an underrated song - “I’ve fallen from favour and I’ve fallen from grace, fallen out of trees and I’ve fallen on my face, fallen out taxis, out of windows too, fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you” “sometimes I wish for falling, wish for the release, wish for falling through the air to give me some relief because falling’s not the problem when I’m falling I’m at peace, it’s only when I hit the ground it causes all the grief” the edits could’ve gone wild for this one if we had the tightrope scenes with Amita/Inej I’m so heartbroken

We Have It All by Pim Stones I have an edit to this one posted if anyone wants to see it - “the print was so small I didn’t understand, he cut out thumbs and placed a feather in our hands, told us we would see all our dreams and plans unfold” “all my life I’ve been heading for hell but never had I thought I’d drag you down as well, I just couldn’t resist what he was trying to sell” “our hearts we have sold for diamonds and gold but hey baby take a look, we have it all, and haven’t you heard? Hearts turn to dirt, along with the rest of your body it’s all claimed by the earth. It will fade and it will wither, but gold it will never, and hey baby, don’t you know? Diamonds are forever”

Run by Daughter - “if I try to get close, he’s already gone, don’t know where he’s going don’t know where he’s been but he is restless at night ‘cause he has horrible dreams” “and I won’t tell my mother, it’s better she don’t know, and he won’t tell his folks ‘cause they’re already ghosts. And we’ll just keep each other, as safe as we can, until we reach the border, until we make our plan to run” “Will you stay with me my love, for another day? ‘Cause I don’t want to be alone when I’m on this state. Will you stay with me my love, til we’re old and grey? ‘Cause I don’t want to be alone when these bones decay”

I might add more as they occur to me but I think this is the list for now, feel free to suggest more!!! ❤️

[odinsblog]

Have you ever been over something, and then years later, someone, out of the blue, brings it up and it really just knocks the wind out of you?

Okay, so this is about high school. I’m nearly 40, so that’s multiple lifetimes ago, right?

I’m pretty sure that I’ve posted about this here at least once, but I can’t find the post to link to it

Here’s the deal

In high school I wasn’t …. hmm …. Idk exactly how to describe it. I played sports (track, football, swimming), but I wasn’t POPULAR popular, right? But I also wasn’t NOT popular

My high school (in Florida) hadn’t been desegregated for very long, and there weren’t a LOT of Black students but there was enough of us so that we felt as comfortable as you possibly could given the circumstances

But I was like a universal joint: I played well with others and I fit in well with almost everyone, and if you don’t include some of the overtly racist teachers, I had almost no enemies (don’t get me wrong, I definitely had my share of fights with school bullies, but after you win enough of those, they kinda stop trying you)

Anyway,

I cannot even tell you why, but for some reason in senior year I decided to run for president of the student class

Wild, right?

So after all of the preliminary votes, it narrowed down to two people (I was more surprised than anyone that I actually made it that far - I guess bc I never really expected to win, maybe running for student class president was kinda like a high school bucket list thing for me?)

Anyway, my final opponent was a white guy named Bill. I knew Bill because in high school somewhere along the way, it was impressed on me that I should participate in as many non-athletic extracurricular activities as possible, to make me a better rounded person, and I was in the SUPER FUCKING RACIST Interact Club with Bill. How racist was Interact, you ask? Well, you had to “apply” for membership to Interact. When I applied, I had no idea what it was. I just knew that my student counselor had suggested it to me, and why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(my graduating class was 2,500 students large, so it wasn’t as big as some of the schools I had attended up north, but it was “big” for Florida)

A teacher was responsible for actually running Interact, but the students really RAN it, know what I mean? Even though I had been working since I was 10yrs old, my Interact Club interview was probably my first real interview. It was kind of a big deal. Like, you had to schedule it and dress up for it and everything. And if you got accepted, your name got put up on a placard, prominently located on one of the main halls of our school

My first interview question, from the teacher in charge of the “club,” was: “Can you take racist jokes against Black people without getting angry?”

WTF??

To say the least, I was 100% completely caught off guard—I knew what racism was, and I definitely knew that it was present in my school, because I’d experienced it firsthand from other students and teachers, but for some reason I wasn’t expecting it to happen at Interact Club. Silly me

I suddenly became acutely aware that I was the only Black person in a room full of white people: the teacher/advisor, about 10 students who were already members of Interact, and mf Bill. Because OF COURSE Bill was already in Interact, and he was just grinning from ear to ear as I sat there in front of the classroom in this fucking “interview” from hell

BUT…! Anyone who knows me knows that one of my core personality traits is, if I get hit—no matter how hard—I always always always hit back. After a moment or two, my response was: “Yeah, can YOU take racist jokes about crackers?”

NGL, I’m not known for my quick wit, or always having the deftest or best clapbacks, but I surprised myself. I really patted myself on the back for that one

Nobody said a word for what seemed like an eternity. It was enough time that I still remember wondering if I might get detention or suspended or something

Finally, the teacher just said, “Okay. You’re in” and he got up, and quietly left the room. Leaving me alone with Bill and 10 not very amused white boys. Bill wasn’t grinning anymore

One or two of the guys got up (I was fully ready to fight, and I was cocky enough to believe that I could take them all down), but they just shook my hand, congratulated me and then they all left the room too

I would later learn that I was the first Black student in my county to get (“accepted”) into the Interact Club. This motif of, “first Black person to…” would follow me around in a lot of aspects in life, until my late 20s

Now, fast forward to the day before Election Day for student body president. It was my very first time giving a public speech. To a crowded auditorium full of my classmates. It was a little bit nerve wracking, but once I got into it, it was easy peasy. Enough so that I actually remember relaxing on stage and even ad libbing a few jokes into my speech. All in all, it wasn’t a bad experience. In fact, I kinda enjoyed it

Lmao, I made a shit ton of promises that I had no idea how I would keep, like getting the school to play music from the local Black radio station in the cafeteria during lunch—and the auditorium exploded in cheers and applause with this impromptu commitment of mine. Like I said, it was a good experience

Bill gave his speech, but I remember it being flat, bland and boring (kinda like Bill) and there was a smattering of claps here and there, and I distinctly recall thinking, “Is Bill really bombing here?” It surprised me because I was like, he had home field advantage, right? I mean, I could count on the Black students to vote for me, but collectively we didn’t account for more than about 15% of my student body class. We had to be bussed in. Bill shoulda been killing it. He had home field advantage, right??

The day after our speeches, was voting day. The principal told Bill and I that we would each be given the results in person before last period, and then the winner would be announced via intercom at the end of the school day. The principal made it clear that the loser would be expected to gracefully accept the outcome and shake hands with the winner. He was looking directly at me as he said this, but it didn’t bother me that much because I never really expected to win. I was outnumbered, but I was proud of myself for making it this far. And everyone who I passed in the hallways was telling me, “Don’t worry, O, I voted for you. You got this in the bag.” A surprising number of white kids were saying this to me. The football team, cheerleaders,… like … a lot of white kids. Hmm… interesting

Weirdly, the closer that me winning seemed like a real possibility, the more I wanted it. But there was no fucking way that I was going to actually win

In the middle of that day, announcement day, I was called to the principal’s office via the p.a. system. I was shaking walking down to the office

I made my way into the office and the school secretary smiled at me and told me to go to another room down the hall where “they” were all waiting for me

And now I’M SUPER NERVOUS

I get to the closed door of the room, take a deep breath, gather my nerves, open the door and go in

And the ONLY people in that room are Bill and that fucking Interact Club teacher, and a few members of the Interact Club. Bill is wearing this giant smirk on his face, and the teacher is smiling. “You lost,” the teacher bluntly told me. “Now shake hands with Bill”

And I start to shake hands, because all of the wind is rapidly leaving my sails, and I’m literally deflating in front of everyone, but just before my hand meets with Bill’s hand, I pause and ask, “How much did I lose by?”

This wasn’t me trying to buy time or anything, I genuinely wanted to know. I was just curious. The teacher looked like this question caught him off guard, and he looked back at two of the students, and then they looked at each other, and they whispered to each other, and then one of them raised one finger, and the Interact teacher said, “You lost by one vote”

Somehow, that was even worse than losing by a hundred votes

And Idk where this presence of mind came from, but I asked if I could get a recount (losing by one vote wasn’t sitting right with me)

The Interact teacher said he didn’t think that was allowed, but he must have seen the look on my face (I was definitely going to go ask the principal) and he gave me a disapproving sigh and said, “Okay, we’ll do the recount. Come back in an hour.”

And I was like, “WHO will do the recount?” and he gestures to the Interact Club members and himself

Oh. Okay.

I just walked out without saying anything. Bill and his friends and the racist teacher were in charge of the vote counting. Great. Fine. Whatever

Needless to say, when the “recount” was done, I still “lost” but this time, I was told that I lost by 2 votes

So yeah, it wasn’t thee worst thing to ever happen to me, but it left a really bad taste in my mouth, ya know? After it was announced to the entire school, everyone was coming up to me for days afterwards telling me that they voted for me and they couldn’t believe that I didn’t win

I always believed that I had won, but it was high school. Whatchagonnado? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It wasn’t a life defining moment or anything, it was just something that happened, but it’s not lost on me that I still recall everything as if it happened last week

But I did let it go and I moved on

It’s something that I haven’t thought about literally in years. Decades, in fact

Until recently

I was out running one morning and a guy was going in the opposite direction and he kinda stared at me as I went around him. And then he yells, “Hey, is your name Odin?” and I stop and go back and tell him yes, and we start talking, and it turns out that he went to my high school. I completely do not remember him, but whatever. It’s always kinda nice to see old faces from old places

So after a few minutes we do the obligatory, “hey let’s exchange phone numbers and keep in touch” thing, but even though I gave him my phone number, I had absolutely no intention of ever contacting him. I’m busy. I got shit to do

Maybe a month later, I get a phone call and it’s the dude who I bumped into who knew me from high school. So in real time, it’s last week

We’re talking and I’m ready to hang up after about 30 seconds, but I don’t want to be rude so I let him keep talking and waited for the right moment to jump in and throw in an excuse to end the call

He’s going on and on and says, “I know you didn’t recognize me that day, but I was trying to talk to you and tell you something, but you seemed like you were in a rush…” and I’m thinking to myself, yeah, much like right now, and for some reason I get unusually blunt (in social settings I’m normally more patient and accommodating, but something felt off, and I really was busy)

Then he says, “I need to tell you something, but I …”

Long silence

Look, man, whatever it is just say it

“Thanks, I just never thought I’d … I want to get it off my … (long sigh)”

Just say it

“You won that election back in high school. I was one of the people counting the votes. You won. You won by a lot. We gave it to Bill”

……

[enthusedbambi-jjba-au]

Monster AU - Monster Hunters [P1]

[The Guild, silver weaponry and can we please talk about how these bullets break the fucking Geneva Conventions]

Monster Hunting!

I am sure that the term is self explanatory. You probably know already.

But if you don’t, here’s a quick rundown:

Monster hunting, also known as “Field Exorcism”, “Damnation”, “Befliction”, and fucking “murder”, among other things, is the practice of tracking and killing non-humans - that is, “monsters” (or pretty much anyone they believe to be non-human), usually with the overall goal of completely eradicating all “dangerous” cryptian species. It’d be a hate crime if only cryptians were a protected class. In case you haven’t guessed, they’re not (though some of them look human enough that murdering them is still generally frowned upon in most jurisdictions, like most vampires and lycanthropes that shift back upon death).

”Cacciatori”, in Italian, means hunters, and is the word used for monster hunters here as well. Not to be confused with a dish prepared alla Cacciatora, or the surname Cacciatore (we are not here for nominative determinism!!!). They’re majority ‘Catholic’ by which I mean most hunters in Italy seem to be semi-religiously-motivated “Italian Catholics” (they’re Christian at least, I don’t know; the religion scene here is wild). I assume this is primarily due to proximity to the Vatican and general historical contexts. I thought they were all Catholics but apparently most of them just self-describe themselves as Catholics, and I don’t know much about Christianity in the first place. (I had a Bible when I was younger and naturally I drew all over it because I was a child. I do not know what they expected. I also went to a Christian summer camp but I only retained the fun parts of that.)

Okay, back to monster hunters before I get off topic any more.

Most of them hunt:

to ‘protect’ their communities

for religious reasons, usually also an extension of the above

for money, obviously

for money but the other kind

It's hard to say which motivation is the majority, like, I can't exactly do a survey or anything; in Italy, as far as I've seen (I haven't really seen that far, admittedly, mostly just near Naples), it seems to be a somewhat even split, between the general public's subconscious fear of being out at night (as well as the influence of religious institutions) and the financial prospects of mark-hitting and marketing. To be clear, monster bounty hunting (as a casual term. monster-mercenarism might be a closer fit, but... much harder to say) isn't quite the same as regular bounty hunting; monster-mercs actually rarely go after an individual who has a bounty on them—though some do take shady jobs to 'find out' if someone is a monster—they mostly just hunt monsters and then get paid based on their kills.

You probably assume all hunters are human, of course, right? Yeah. I fucking wish. I fucking wish there weren't monsters out there willing to off other cryptians for money. There are even werewolves out there hunting werewolves. Etc. I think sometimes it's like internalised hatred, but sometimes monsters are also out of their fucking minds just like human beings.

I always wondered if they fully grasp just how fucking quickly their fellow hunters would take a gun to their head the second they found out.

But yeah, most of them are human.

Anyways, you might be wondering who the fuck is paying them. Monster hunting isn’t exactly legal since normal non-believers and the government generally will see a dead humanoid cryptian and go “ah, murder”, so I have to assume most of the payment for the mercs (as opposed to the shadowmarket suppliers and shadowmarketers who obviously get paid for merchandise) is funded by the Guild.

now on the subject of the guild: I’m sure a lot of you are curious what in the fuck that is, which is fair, since you probably hadn’t heard of it before i started saying words.

La Gilda dei Cacciatori Mostri

La Gilda dei Cacciatori Mostri d'Italia (GCM), the Italian Monster Hunter's Guild, is precisely what it sounds like: a guild of monster hunters. In Italy. Surprise. I just call them the Guild, mostly. Hunting seems to be sort of culturally hereditary, and Guild membership is somewhat exclusive; for "safety reasons" allegedly (though I personally think at least half the time they're just a bunch of fucking self-righteous elitist bitches), as they need to 'make sure they can trust their members' or something like that. They signal membership of the Guild with these little silver pins with insignias that they wear. They're silver because you have to be able to wear the pin to be in the Guild, I think. I guess they assume that anyone who can touch silver must be a human. I'll get to silver's importance later. I think the bottom of the pin is a tiny out-the-front knife for, like, the most dire of emergencies or something? I've seen some where the bottom comes out more or less, so there's probably a switch on the back that extends the blade, but I can't really say for sure because I just can't seem to get my hands on one. Whatever.

Bunch of smug bastards; they have one of those fancy Latin mottos. Translates to 'Sanctity and Safety; Keeping The Faith'. Or something. No fucking idea what that means, but sure. Anyways, the Guild spans across all of Italy (I don't know if San Marino or the Vatican or Sicily or Sardinia are included; I'm assuming Sicily and Sardinia are, but I can't say for sure). They keep in contact with each other through this Guild… meetings, and stuff. I know there's a Northern Division and a Southern Division, and then a bunch of local chapters in each division. It's sort of hard to find out the specifics since they have to be careful with what they talk about, but it seems like the whole Guild isn't super closely knit because it's just not practical to have everyone at every meeting and such. The divisions are closer amongst themselves than one another, but they all support each other, at least for the most part. I understand them as having a representative system where reps from each chapter are assigned to meet up instead of having everyone meet together to stay connected. They probably keep in touch with everyone so they can alibi each other if police come poking around.

I dunno what the deal with Sicily and Sardinia is, but the distribution seems to split right above Lazio; anything above Lazio is Northern Division, and Lazio plus Abruzzi and anything south of those two regions is Southern. They have Guild ‘capitals’: the Southern one is definitely Rome, though Naples apparently has one of the most ‘powerful’ hunter families in the country (and just a lot of families in the area? From what I’ve seen?); I’m not sure what the Northern capital is but based on population I’d have to guess probably Milan? I don’t really know if the chapters are region- or city-based; I think it might depend on size and population. I’m just gonna call them based on the most notable nearby town/city.

The Guild actually isn’t all that big; most of the smaller chapters are actually just a single family, if that—like I said, hunting seems to be culturally hereditary, so people seem to be passing it on to their kids, which actually means their numbers are starting to dwindle slightly as kids are denouncing or declining the occupation, or people die before their kids get old enough to carry the tradition on or something such. Many known monster hunter families have actually retired semi-recently due to various circumstances. In areas where the primary family or group of hunters have stopped hunting and whatnot, it seems that leaves room for foreigners to step in or hunters already patrolling another location nearby to absorb the unsupervised region into their territory. It’s also when the shadowmarketers swoop in and start ‘poaching’. Shadowmarket suppliers and Guildists seem to have issues with each other, too, even though they’re hunting the same thing. I assume it’s primarily due to greed. Or desperation. Or both.

Here are some notable hunter names and families I’ve heard about (for some reason, there seems to be a lot of them in or around Naples? Or, you know, I’ve only noticed more of those because I’m here):

Mista - Napoli Chapter - wolfhunters, long-standing lineage, Campania representatives (presumably)

So, the Mista family is arguably the most well-known and respected hunter family in the Southern Division. Maybe even in the whole Guild. They specialise in hunting lycanthropes and other zooanthropic creatures (mostly the lycans, though). They’re incredibly successful at killing monsters, and they—as a family—are known for this… ‘faith override’ ability they have. See, faith and belief are super powerful, so religious implements are ineffective against a creature whose theological alignment doesn’t jive with it. A Christian cross isn’t going to do much to an individual of a different religion, because the symbol doesn’t mean anything to them. But the Mista family’s ‘override’ is something about their belief outweighing a general lack of belief, thus making their religious iconography effective against enemies whether they should be affected by it or not. I guess magic is fine if YOU get to use it, huh? Bit self-righteous if you ask me.

The Mista family has been in the Guild for a good while now, allegedly from the beginning, and the youngest member—Guido—seems keen to keep up the family tradition even though he’s not living with his family anymore.

So I think it’s safe to assume he has no clue what’s going on in the group he’s currently part of.

James - bayside Napoli - not actually in the guild

A foreign family, and by family, I mean a guy named Damien James came to Naples from London and was seen for a while with a woman he claimed was his wife, encroached on the Mista family’s territory, and then went missing. He was known but not well-liked and wasn’t allowed in the Guild due to a refusal to respect regulations, adhere to territory rules and cooperate with the Mistas. Nobody knows where the fuck he is. His supposed “wife” is still spotted around the bay occasionally, though. She’s really scary, and apparently, when she got approached by someone asking about Damien, she seemed to get super mad about it. Stupid games, stupid prizes. Don’t fuck with widows. Especially not strange widows who spend a lot of time by the water. That’s how you become sea-food. Dumbass.

Fugo - Napoli Chapter - vampire hunters, long-reaching lineage, seemingly recently retired

I’m not sure how true the stories I’ve heard about are, but I’m under the impression that the Fugo family, a bunch of high-class wealthy rich people, came from a lineage of vampire hunters. But they apparently retired a generation or so ago because they were satisfied with being a bunch of rich assholes. Feel bad for their son but that’s none of MY business!!! Hahaaaaaaa that might also just be a load of bullshit. I don’t really know. I’m telling you what I’ve heard alright. Like I don’t want to hear people bitching because my specialty is researching cryptians not humans!

Verga/Ventura - Roman Chapter - variety hunt

Presumably, they are the descendants of the Guild founders, but half of them—the Venturas—have stepped away from hunting, while the other half—the Vergas—continue to hunt whatever they come across. Despite the surname difference, all currently surviving members of the Verga and Ventura families are actually siblings. I think. The little one in the Ventura family might be one of their kids but I dunno I’m pretty sure one of ‘em called her their sister. I think the Venturas changed their surname to distance themselves from the family history, but I’m not really sure. They also seem to have some connection to Passione, but I can’t elaborate on that for reasons.

There’s, uh…. Nine—NINE?! NINE OF THESE LITTLE BITCHES that is so many. Um, even though they’re all attached to the Roman chapter, only three of them are actually, like, Roman. Or even southern, for that matter. The other six are from, uhh… if I can remember… Venice or Verona (though four of them are twins (or quadruplets?) two claim to be from Verona, and the other two claim they’re from Venice, so I don’t know who to believe). The two eldest and the youngest (the kid) are the Roman ones. Fuck I regret meeting these bitches because now I have to explain shit!

To clarify, while the Verga family seems to have been the founders of the Guild ages ago, the current Verga family don’t seem to be leading it (I don’t know who is) but are just carrying on the tradition. I hear that a lot of them have political or governmental positions which might also have some relation to their connections with Passione. Dunno. They were in Naples a while ago, which was when I met them, but they didn’t stay super long, so most of what I know is also from rumours and poking around.

Cacciatore - Venice Chapter - therianoid hunt - retired

Yeah I know I said with the nominative determinism and whatnot. It's not nominative determinism. Just think about it logically. They're not hunters because they're Cacciatores; they're called the Cacciatores because they were hunters. It's called an occupational surname! (It's pretty much the same as the English surname Hunter; same principle as Baker or Cooper or Smith or Miller).

From what I can gather, along with the Vergas and Mistas, and possibly a couple others, they are the oldest known hunter family, hunting mostly animal-like monsters like werewolves and animal demons; they split from the Guild and eventually from the profession as a whole, citing that the Guild’s recent modern innovations on their weaponry—the Crackling Silver in particular, I’m to believe—are fucked up and incredibly unethical even against monsters. I would have to fucking agree with them! Who in the fuck comes up with a thing like crackling silver?! Ugh. More on that later. It’s bad.

Zatta - Chapter and hunt unknown - allegedly silversmiths, or at least close with the Guild’s

I don’t know if they’re the ones making weapons or just coming up with ideas, but based on my ‘research’, I’m of the understanding that they have something to do with the production of the more advanced and fucked up weapons the Guild has taken to using, like the aforementioned Crackling Silver, as well as burst bolts and Stoppers. I don’t know what their main hunt is, if they have one, though I have heard that they’re kind of on thin ice for not getting along with other hunters. Something about how silver is for monsters and not humans. They’re close with another hunter family that also has ties with weapon production, but I don’t know what the other family is called.

Apparently, the youngest daughter severed ties and outright denounced monster hunters as a whole—something about hunters being way fucking worse than the monsters they go after, and she can’t take being around them anymore because they’ve done more than enough damage to her life. You go, girl! There is definitely a LOT of issues and trauma going on there that we are NOT going to unpack! I’ve heard rumours that her brother also split from the family but has been seen in various towns and cities, allegedly “appearing to be hunting”. No clue what that fucking means.

-

Okay. That’s about all I’ve picked up from trying to sneak around and infiltrate hunter circles.

Which means now it’s time to talk about the super fucked up part. The weaponry.

Silver

so I was going to wait till a future post to really delve into Silver and related topics, but it’s important for this topic to give you the groundwork:

Silver is the single most widely effective and secular monster deterrent and defence. ‘Course, a lot of the Christians think it’s a holy metal. That’s not why it works; it’s not religiously aligned, and that’s why it’s so widely effective. For a lot of monsters—or at least the most commonly known ones, like vampires, werewolves, demons and their ilk—silver will burn. And bad. It hurts and does physical damage. Humans are actually super lucky to be incredibly resistant to silver, but humans also love to push that envelope and give themselves argyria by excessive use of silver as an alternative medicine which by the way, totally do not recommend; please be fucking responsible and don’t turn your skin blue by fucking about with colloidal silver and the such. I can’t believe I have to go out of my way to say this. Anyways, yeah, humans can get silver poisoning too, but monsters are very magically-infused, which is why silver is so much more hazardous to them. I’ll explain that fully at a later date.

Just know—silver? Great against the common monsters. So of course, when hunters (who’d have their crosses and holy water sometimes fail) found that silver worked on nearly everything, they immediately turned to it as their weapon material of choice. Started out with swords, though silver isn’t exactly super cheap or super easy to get, so most silver swords were actually made chiefly from more affordable, more available materials, like steel, and then the blades were tempered with a thin layer of silver, which seemed to work alright.

Blades were traditional for hunters, they’re the oldest silver weapons used by the Guild. First swords, until swords turned out to be unwieldy as fuck. And impractical in the modern day. And expensive. And heavy. And just fucking ridiculous. Swords were replaced by silver hunting knives since they were more subtle, quieter and cheaper.

Are they good?

…no? absolutely not

Come ON! Does close-quarters combat with a transmissive werewolf sound like a great fucking idea to you?! Lycanthropy is transmitted through saliva-blood contact, LIKE GETTING FUCKING BITTEN. Traditional doesn’t mean fucking GOOD. I imagine shit would be fucking awkward if these guys were trying to kill monsters with KNIVES. Swords could be fine, at least at the time when it was all they had, since they had longer reach than knives, but they were superseded by ranged weapons pretty sharpish.

Still, every monster hunter (at least in the Guild) has a hunting knife, probably for emergencies. Only the blade is really silver, not the back of it, to my knowledge, and they’re made to be practical. If the dagger is super fancy, it’s probably fake silver, for religious purposes, or the owner is just a massive fucking bitch. A real hunting knife is simple. Practical against humans, too, kinda, but mostly good as a utility knife. You can throw them if you’re out of your fucking mind (or that one gayboy in La Squadra who is obviously already out of his fucking mind).

Anyway, swords were short-lived for monster hunters. The primary weapon for hunters was crossbows with silver bolts for a while, and then guns became a thing. A few hunters still use crossbows, but most carry guns now and silver bullets. Innovation is mainly made with long-distance hunting weapons since they’re safer to use. I’ve seen a hunter use a fucking slingshot. Didn’t stick around, obviously. I ain’t out here triflin with David. I’m under 4’, and I still want NO part of that

So anyways, yeah, maybe I'm a bleeding heart that doesn't agree with monster hunting, but it's normal-ass guns and silver bullets. Those aren't the worst shit; maybe you don't think it's that inhumane to kill with that (hunters don't see monsters as human anyway), so what's the big deal.

The big fucking deal is the fucking mods they started putting on the bullets and whatnot.

The primary purpose of ALL silver ammo innovations is to prevent the monsters—generally the zooanthropes, I think; surely they don't use this type of shit on vamps and stuff, at least I fucking hope, 'cus if they do, they're more fucked up empathetically than I thought—from being able to recover from their wounds, thus dooming or at least weakening them with unending afterpain.

Which is fucked up. AND AGAINST THE GENEVA CONVENTIONS BY THE WAY. JUST SO WE’RE CLEAR.

I am especially talking about what I’ve mentioned earlier:

Crackling Silver

The “crackling silver” bullet (named for the crackling noise they make as they exit the chamber) is designed with looser shards of silver that loosen with the heat of the gun upon firing, then break off and embed in the wound upon impact, which prevents the wound from healing itself as the silver shards never stop burning the flesh until removed. It’s not just designed to hurt like all fuck; it’s also designed to keep the wound open since the shards mostly embed into the front of the wound where they break off. By keeping the wound open, the monsters are not unlikely to slowly bleed out unless they’re able to find someone who can help them dig the shards out.

Stopper Bullets

The good news is that since silver burns most of these common monsters, the bullets—even crackling silver—will pass right through their body, so only the shards are left inside the wound, so the bleeding out is more of a concern that they can focus on, since the pain isn’t so bad! Apparently, that was a problem! So, someone came up with Stopper Bullets. Stoppers are silver bullets that (don’t ask me how they work, I don’t know) somehow jam themselves halfway through the monster’s body, never coming out the other side, meaning they just sit inside the body and BURN. Stopper bullets are more of an auxiliary weapon, I think; they’re more meant to slow down the monster because they focus on the pain.

there is a special place in hell for whoever the fuck thought to make the crackling stopper. You can infer what that does based on the above.

Silverdust

It’s silver dust. I’ve heard hunters with more silver to waste like to throw silverdust in lycanthropes’ faces to blind them. I feel that some of these hunters are only hunting to go on a power trip.

Burst Bolts

Kinda like the crossbow version of Crackling Silver, except I'm not super sure how they work because I know next to nothing about crossbows?

-

Like, just, do you get why this shit drives me up the fucking wall?? It’s not even that they just casually use this crazy shit; it’s the fact they don’t seem to care! Like, even giving them the leniency that they don’t think monsters are free-thinking creatures, did NOBODY but the Cacciatores see this and think it was fucking sadistic?? Even if monsters were like animals with no complex awareness or comprehension, even IN the case of frenzied lycanthropes, why go out of your way to make them suffer unless you enjoy the suffering of other living creatures? Would you go to the same lengths if you hunted deer, or rabbits, or birds?

It was never necessary! That’s why it’s so fucked up! A normal-ass silver bullet will kill with a shot to any mortal creature’s vitals, so these mods exclusively serve to inflict a painful and needlessly prolonged death upon a creature and would only be useful for people who can’t fucking aim and need to slow their target down, right?!

The worst part, the way I see it, is that a lot of them—take Guido Mista, for example, the youngest of the Mista family—have more-or-less noble intentions, like wanting to keep the streets safe, and they genuinely believe they are by hunting monsters. I’m sure that if a lot of these people knew that they were close to monsters, or even just that monsters aren’t necessarily evil, they probably would realise that the monsters aren’t always the aggressors.

I’m sure if a lot of them knew that some of their close friends weren’t human, those hunters wouldn’t have it in them to hold true to their convictions and turn on the people they love and trust.

I don’t think it’s impossible that some of the hunter families that have retired might have done so because this happened to them in some way. Monster hunters make me angry, but they also make me pretty sad sometimes, especially knowing that a lot of them just had the monster-hunting thing pushed on them by their families.

And hey, even if you're one of the people who actually hates monsters and support the Guild in eradicating them all, you do realise a lot of regular ass humans can and do get hurt by this shit, too, right? like, sure, silver doesn't burn humans, but that doesn't mean it's not going to fucking hurt to have silver shards jammed in your fucking body. Nobody is perfect, no matter how experienced, and mistakes are bound to happen while hunting every so often.

That's assuming it's a mistake, anyway. if you'll recall what I said about the Zatta family being on thin ice. I doubt they're the only ones.

oh well whatever

That’s all I got for now. Stay safe.

[joysmercer]

just breathe, just relax, it'll be okay

in which there's no soundcheck at intermission.

i. hoping that the fire won't burn me (just one time) [gina]

ao3

Gina has spent a significant portion of her life on stage, or preparing to be on stage, but out of all of that, what she did just now has got to be the most impressive acting performance of her entire life. A Night To Remember was her favorite number to rehearse (besides the troyella duets, of course), but she feels like she’s singing through jello during the entire song now. Every time she looks at Ricky, she’s reminded that he’ll never get the senior prom he thinks he’s promised, and it will all be her fault.

Still, she plasters a smile on her face and leans into him as the audience gives them a standing ovation (her mother excluded; Gina hasn’t missed how she’s been at the exit, one foot out the door, this entire time), and once intermission is called, she presses a kiss to his cheek and runs away giggling, the sound high and false in her own ears—

Until she reaches the set of quick-change booths that have become a makeshift dressing room for the girls (their actual room being taken over by designer-gown options for Gina to wear at the press conference tonight, although none of her friends actually know that). Gina immediately yanks her Act 2 costume off of its hanger dashes into the booth closest to her, desperate to get changed and on her way, but the clasp of her current dress promptly gets stuck. Fucking hell, she thinks—or maybe yells, perhaps, given that Kourtney barges her way in a split-second later, her protective gaze piercing daggers through Gina’s skin (though if it's meant for her or the dress, one could only guess). Gina pushes past her as soon as she’s decent without another word.

Eyes seem to follow her as she tosses her heels god-knows-where and hangs the white dress back up. “I’m fine,” she tells those nearest to her, glaring at Ashlyn before her sister can offer what she’s sure is sage advice for anyone not about to go and kill the spirit of the one person who deserves a perfect show tonight.

I’ll apologize later, Gina resolves, knowing there’s so much more she’ll have to apologize for anyway. She can’t fathom the idea of going away from any of the people in the room, more a family to her than her own blood for the past year, which is a terrible situation to be in given that she has to very, very soon.

“Ricky’s on his way to his locker,” Emmy informs her as she leaves, and Gina nods, certain the younger girl has no idea why she’s trying to meet him right now but thankful for the information nonetheless. If she sprints, she can get to the actual girl’s dressing room before Ricky does.

They haven't had a chance to talk since the show started, not really, but by the way he's been acting, she's now absolutely certain she knows what he's been dying to tell her all night—and even though the words haven't actually been said yet, the knowledge of what they are is enough for her to know she has to say her piece first. Even if it kills her—kills them.

Fate, for once, is on her side, and she gets to the room with enough time to make it across the counter and take a deep breath before her boyfriend (her heartbreakingly wonderful boyfriend, her absolute favorite person in the world) runs in, still in his prom tux from Act 1, curls wild and tie half-undone with a guitar clutched in his hand. His eyes widen in sheer delight when he sees her (as if they hadn't planned to meet here during intermission) and within a second, he's run across and swept her into a massive bear-hug that lifts her away from the counter and around in the air.

Gina might throw up, and not from all the spinning.

"Missed you," Ricky murmurs, when he's finally put her down again.

You just saw me, Gina thinks, but the words, and the smile that should go with it, get lost somewhere in her throat. With as much strength as she can muster, she manages to resist the urge to fold right back into his embrace, instead stepping back and letting her hands fall down to hold his.

"So," Ricky says, somewhat giddily, but when he meets her eyes, her expression must be so grave that the grin slips straight off his face. "Gi, hey, you okay?" he asks softly, gently.

Gina tangles their fingers together as her heart plummets to the floor. She takes a deep breath, and then another, and then a third, but remains unable to steady herself. She's not ready for this. But that doesn’t matter.

Ten seconds, Gina, she admonishes herself. Ten seconds, then you have to tell him. One, two, three—

She makes it to five before the guilt of it all overwhelms every cell in her body and the words come tumbling out. "Quinn offered a movie—I'm leaving, after the show tonight," she blurts out, and a mere moment later, tears follow. She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to look at him.

His hands slip out of hers. Gina waits, eyes still closed, for the inevitable sound of his footsteps moving away from her and out the door. Instead, a second later, she finds herself pressed against him again, slow circles being drawn on her back.

Ricky holds her as the tears fall, and fall, and fall. She allows herself to collapse against him, wondering what she did to deserve this incredible boy who absolutely doesn’t deserve her.

I can't leave, she thinks; I can’t lose this. This isn’t a new thought for her—it had admittedly had been flitting in and out of her head over the past week—but it has gotten steadily more intense over the day, now taking over every crevice of her mind.

Maddox’s ten-minute warning suddenly blares through the speakers in the room, but all Gina can focus on is the fact that Ricky’s apparently still standing there with her. "You're not—you're not mad?" she asks, somewhat stupidly and against her better judgment.

Ricky shrugs, the skin around his own red-rimmed eyes creasing in a halfhearted smile. "Upset, maybe," he says, "but you," he reaches up to cup her cheek, "You're a superstar, Gi. Of course HSM4 wouldn't be it for you."

That wasn't quite the answer Gina was looking for, and she suspects it isn't the one he wanted to give, either.

I. Don't. Want. To. Go.

"I wanted to tell you," she says quietly, as if that would make it okay, make it any less real. "But the contract isn't signed yet, and Quinn didn't confirm until this morning, and some part of me—" she quickly swallows the rest of the sentence poised on her lips, not wanting to give him false hope; god, she can't do that to him, not after all of this—"I didn't want to ruin your night," she finishes lamely.

Ricky nods. There’s a painful expression on his face, as if he'd been expecting this, mirroring exactly how he did just under a year ago, when Nini announced she was leaving (the first time).

GIna feels terrible.

"So you'll be gone next semester, then?" he asks, cutting into the silence.

"New Zealand," Gina nods. "Six months—” she hesitates, then adds, “I should be back to see you graduate."

"Hm."

Gina regrets adding that part immediately. Who was she kidding? He had tried the whole long-distance thing before, and it didn’t work, so why would he want to do that again? She takes a deep breath. "Ricky—"

Her apology is interrupted by his lips on hers. This kiss is unlike any one he's given her before, simultaneously electric with emotion and so incredibly soft—almost quiet—with the simplicity and ease of the act, and Gina doesn't quite know what to make of it. When they break apart, she just stares at him dumbly. Half of her wants to kiss him again, but the other half is confused.

Turns out she doesn't have to ask, because he explains all on his own. "I love you.”

What?

She must have said that out loud, because he laughs, for real this time, and grabs her hand to flatten her palm against his chest. "See that? Heart, not racing. I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

"Ricky Bowen," she whispers, and the Thought from before is practically pulsing between her ears as it rewords itself slightly. Stay here, stay home.

"Gina Porter," he whispers back.

An understanding passes between them, a silent promise. Gina smiles and is working up the courage to kiss him again just when Maddox's five-minute call once again invertebrates through the room, and the moment's over.

"One more minute," Ricky mutters, apparently unwilling to let go of her hand so soon.

"Sorry, Wildcat—you're still planning to do Act 2, I hope," Gina jokes, gesturing to the half of a tuxedo he's still wearing, but lets a note of seriousness enter her voice. Please say yes.

Ricky seems to pick up on it, and he swiftly kisses her cheek, saying, equally seriously, "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Gi."

Home, home, home.

Gina reluctantly forces him to leave, finally, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t melt into the floor when he turns around for a look back at her. "By the way, I got into college. SLCC." He cocks his head shyly. "I'll have to tell you that story after curtain. And sing you my song," he adds, pointing to his discarded guitar still propped up on the counter.

Gina's heart swells with pride, and something else too, but Ricky's bolted away before she can respond. I love you too, she thinks. She can’t wait to say it back to him very, very soon—and repeat it forever, after that.

---

read chapter 2 here!!

[cookinguptales]

I will say, though, that sometimes you try to talk yourself out of your feelings for a long time and then you talk to someone outside of the situation and they're like "what the fuck" and you're like OH okay I have a right to feel weird and bad and stressed out.

I guess it's easy to feel stupid because you actually are affected when people are actively trying to affect you, especially when it's something like writing on the internet, which is just... always going to get harassment. Like when I say I've gotten messages about how people like me should be euthanized in the past over tumblr posts. :')

So you're like "oh, random shitty people is just something that everyone deals with, I should shut up and stop being a baby about it" and then you actually show the messages you're getting to someone and they're like ???? what????

Like I shared my inbox with my hairstylist when we were chatting a few days ago, and he was like ???? This man is not in fandom, so when he saw the kind of shit I was getting over not liking a finale of a tv show, he was shocked. Which... was kind of gratifying. It made me feel less crazy. lmao

Kind of reminds me of when I wrote this really personal essay about disability a few years ago and it won a contest. The people running the contest gave me uhhh quite a bit of money and asked me to keep writing for their site for more money. Like when I tell you I was literally on IRL conference calls with these people asking me why I stopped writing for them.

And I was finally like "...well, there's this feature on your site where you can tag other users in your essays, and after I won people kept writing their own essays about how much I didn't deserve to win, about how "lucky" I was to have a sob story that was attractive to the judges, about how whiny I was, people questioning my disability, etc. And since they tagged me, this was filling my email inbox and it really stressed me out. But if you look at the actual comments on the story, you don't see any of that. So it was kind of invisible harassment."

And the rep was horrified. She had never even considered that someone might use the feature like that. She was like WE'LL INVESTIGATE THIS and I was like. sure, okay. But getting that taste of the spotlight was already enough to make me peace out for good, tbh. Even though I knew that a lot of it was just sour grapes because they wanted to win themselves, and I knew that a lot of what they were saying wasn't valid, the sheer force of the animosity against me was overwhelming.

Like... it's not a crime to have your feelings hurt when someone is actively trying to hurt your feelings. It's natural, I guess, even if you feel kind of stupid about it.

I guess it's kind of wild to me that we just take it for granted that anyone who speaks up is gonna get yelled at online. Any prominent writer or activist you see is probably getting daily cruelty, if not outright death threats. And you just -- you have to have such a certain temperament to deal with all that. And I don't have it. I get easily overwhelmed and stressed when people are mad at me and I know it's not ideal but it is who I am. I joke about it, but I really kind of do feel like a small nervous dog sometimes.

And I wonder, sometimes, how many great voices we never hear from because of this expectation of harassment. Someone says something, gets some shitty trolly comment, then goes back in their hole and never talks again. Or they see the way other people get treated and they never speak up in the first place.

idk, I don't mean to be a martyr about this and I'm sure other people are getting the kinds of messages I am but like. God, it is so weird and disheartening to realize that a few people have been sending you nasty messages for literally months when you block an anon from your inbox and you see what else disappears. There are people who are so mad at me that they've sent me angry messages for months. Because I don't have the same opinions they do about a tv show.

It kind of makes you want to never talk about anything ever again. :(

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

What the shit is everhood

(Info dump pls?)

Gladly! ^w^

so everhood is a game that I would say is very similar to undertale, from the pixel art style to the humour to the general uhh theme? i guess is the word? Where you play as a wooden puppet named red on a quest to get your arm back from gold pig. The battle mechanic is a rhythm based system where you have to jump around and over beats the enemies through at you. The music is absolutely fucking fantastic and i actually bought the soundtrack i like it so much lol

a couple battles get absolutely insane with the visuals too, to the point im not even totally sure i can do a description justice? you can check out this video if you're curious, theres really no spoilers in this battle but it shows what im talking about. these battles are where the photosensitivity warning really comes in though, so be cautious if that effects you

I can't go too deep into the plot without getting into spoiler territory, so i'll put that under the cut for anyone who's curious, but here's what I can say! You go around collecting clues to find gold pig and get your arm back, and along the way you get to meet all the wonderful characters that populate Everhood. Like Rasta beast, Noseferatchu the sneezing vampire, Flan and Muck, the dancing mushrooms, a vampire who's name always changes. You really get to know and love these characters while also learning that maybe everything isn't as it seems in Everhood. Maybe, actually nothing is what it seems. Maybe you're the only one willing to do something about. But..... are you willing?

oh also kermit is there and I think he might be god? Also you can kill him and it impacts literally nothing

Full plot summary under the cut. I highly recommend you play the game without spoilers, but if you're like me and you Need to know what happens before you play then go wild. I'll only be talking about the intended good ending though, since I haven't gotten around to playing the secret endings yet- oh also mild spoilers for undertale i guess if youre worried about that in 2023

so when I say its similar to undertale in themes, its sort of. in a reverse sense. In undertale the good ending is the pacifist route. By saving the monsters you help them escape the underground and better their situation. It is mercy, the direct functional opposite of killing, that saves you. There is no mercy kill because using mercy ends the fight period.

Well in Everhood, the good ending requires you to kill everyone.

Your arm was taken from you because you've done this before, wiped out countless lives, friends even. And now you must finish the job. Its hard and sad and it sucks but it has to be you because no one else is going to. It falls on you to go back to these spots you've been through already, these happy cheerful locations, and hunt down everyone you've come to know over the course of the game.

so why do you need to kill everyone? and how on earth is it similar to undertale at all? well, Everhood isn't just the title of the game or the location it takes place, its the state every single character in the game is stuck in.

in the distant past, humanity found a way to reach another world, one they called Everhood. And in this world, no one could ever die. Some people chose to stay in this world, which lost connection to the human world for some reason i dont remember rn, and in doing so slowly lost their humanity. They lived for eons and eons and eons, changing their shape and loosing themselves in the process. You discover at one point that the Green Mage, a chaotic character whom I love, has been keeping track of the years everyone has spent in Everhood, every year a tally on the wall of their secret playroom. It takes three hours to get to the end of this hallway, to give you an idea of scale here. three real time hours.

Your character, Red, is a vessel for the literal human player behind the screen to free the inhabitants of Everhood from eternity. They aren't really happy. They can't be. They've been stuck for so long, and even though they beg and plead for you not to kill them you have to. Its the only way for them to be happy and move on from Everhood. And don't get me wrong you CAN choose not to go through with it. You have to actively fight back after this reveal to kill anyone. I haven't played through this way, so I can't speak on it.

The ending is sort of ambiguous, in which Pink (the person pretending to be Red and letting you the player control them) goes to an afterlife after killing everyone and gets to see them one last time, and they're happy. They forgive you. One by one you talk to them and they thank you for freeing them, apologize for fighting you, and move on happily to whatever comes after death. I choose to interpret it literally, but there's something to be said about the idea it's all in Pink's head. I don't think it was meant to be taken that way, but its one way to look at it.

The game sort of looses people with this being the good ending. But I think it's a beautiful metaphor. Sometimes you keep doing things that hurt you only because you're used to it. Maybe you don't even realize how its hurting you, its better than the alternative right? For the longest time I kept my bedroom blinds perpetually closed because the bright sunlight gave me headaches. I didn't realize just how depressed it was making me to be in near constant darkness like that. It was only after I bought a plant on a whim that I realized how much happier I was letting in the sunlight. You get so used to bad habits and awful jobs and clothes you hate because they're familiar. And doesn't it just seem easier? To take non-action and let everyone keep living and having fun in Everhood? Green Mage hosts DnD every week (or whatever counts as a week after you've lived for eternity), go play with the mushrooms in the forest, doesn't that sound lovely? You don't have to kill anyone, just keep living on exactly as you were! You have friends here Red! It hurts too much to kill them! they don't want to die! why not just give up? How could anything good come from the pain of change?

[landinrris]

i have a question to cleanse your mind from that young royals hot mess on twitter. do you think norrix may in fact be real and if it is when do you think it became real? and if not do you think it might ever become real? my own view is they've not acted on anything right now and would say they're only very good friends if asked and are most likely even still hooking up with women but there are feelings much stronger than normal friends bc well it's crystal clear that it's not a normal friendship but a fair chunk deeper than that like a soul connection or something as an anon said the other day. but i don't know if they'll ever get up the courage to act on it. my projection clearly as we'll never really know how they feel if they don't act on it and go public but they come across like of two of my friends who so clearly care for each other in a non-platonic way and are joined at the hip every opportunity and are physically affectionate with one another but never did anything about it so far at least from what we all know anyway and only one has recently come out as not straight. though i guess even having that deep love even if it remains platonic is a special thing regardless. was wondering what your take on it is if you don't mind being public about that.

Okay, so here's the thing. I'm very hesitant to speculate in an open space about someone's sexuality where anyone can see it. (Sometimes I really wish Tumblr's search function didn't catch literally everything, but whatever). I don't know, I have really complicated feelings on the matter in general because I recognize things from my own life, but nothing is universal etc etc. And maybe I blur the lines on my blog a bit, but at the end of the day, the plausible deniability side, and the side that doesn't really know any of the people I post about, will lean towards these relationships not being real in the romantic sense.

That being said, I will gladly address this question from a more "fictionalized" viewpoint using things that have actually happened. It might be counter-intuitive to write like that, but it hasn't stopped me yet because I am not them, so it's default fiction.

In one of the things I'm writing that utilizes real-world timelines, I have them kind of getting together following the Spa 2023 gig when Lando goes back to Amsterdam and posts the photo to his Insta Story from Martin's balcony. All the feelings from the past year build up until they can't hold them back anymore.

The reason I think Spa (besides the fact that the aforementioned picture kills me), is that following it, and even the event itself really, Lando largely stops posting their meetups on his social media. Someone else brought to my attention that after New York and Canada, McLaren also largely stopped posting content of the two of them. As compared to Miami where there was plenty of content of Martin hanging around Lando's driver's room.

So New York/Canada happens with "Real Love." Then Spa happens with Lando and Max flying into the show and Lando going back to Amsterdam. Lando specifically realizes then that if he wants to avoid scrutiny and rumors and gossip as much as possible, he has to let the psycho girl rumors go wild while he flies under the radar with privacy and avoids advertising who he's with. Hence, a tangible lack of material from both him and McLaren for the rest of the season when Martin is present.

The ski trip is the exception because I think the ski trip is special. Especially because Martin was nowhere near France prior to it. Lando says, fuck it, for a brief moment and posts the photos he wants to post.

But then we have winter break and go back to both of them being very quiet when they're together. Martin gets to post the proof that they've been together while Lando keeps his profile meticulously bare of anyone but himself. The fact that Martin was back in Amsterdam for ~8 hours and posted 3-4 things says a lot. But he's quiet again, now that he's somewhere snowy while Lando's plans of Finland seemingly grow nearer.

They're not sure if they'll ever broadcast anything, but maybe they'll work back up to posting like they used to pre-New York where they were much more likely to show up on one of their Stories at the least.

So, in my world, yes it's happened, and this is why I think so.

In the real, tangible world, who knows. Whatever their relationship is clearly means a great deal to them both. If it's purely platonic, if there's a legitimate romantic element, or if they just sit there and pine for the next few years, I hope they're happy and content they have one another. Finding people you click with that quickly and genuinely is a special thing.

[joyswonderland1108]

Damn Daniel, back at it with the cult.

They're clearly going through it again but let's see what it's all about.

I'm taking the chance to share the tweet so you can report too.

So user kookieantae4eva (bfr what are you? 12?) wants to talk about consent, that apparently sharing the picture Jimin posted is a no no out of "principle" funny how a cultist is talking about principles the damn irony.

First of all, who THE FUCK are you to be talking about consent or no consent about a picture they're both in, whether you see them as brothers, best friends, band mates, a couple (that is clearly not you or maybe you do that's why you're throwing up on Twitter about it), etc.. You're still a stranger to them so who tf do you think you are to be talking about consent for a picture they both took?

As if we didn't learn anything from chapter two, Maknae line be wilding with nakedness Lord have mercy! But you see my friend pointed at something that i completely forgot for a second but hey let's mention it since you oh so want to be holier than thou.

Remember when Eric Choi who is the BROTHER of Tae's FRIEND posted a picture of the back of their heads on his IG? Where were your principles then? Why weren't you questioning consent back then? Is it because you were starving for anything TK related that consent didn't matter then?

I'm sorry but between a BTS member posting a picture with another BTS member and a friend's brother posting a picture of the back of their heads i'd be questioning the latter.

Moving on to Jay AKA Mina.

Now weren't they preaching about JK's silence? "Supporting his boyfriend privately 🥺" or whatever theory they pulled out of their asses why would you Mina suddenly want public support after the whole album drops (that's what you're alluding to) and then contradict yourself later calling it forced support. Lemme guess when Tae posted about Seven on his story that was "forced support" as well? Or is it only when it comes to Jimin?

Each member have their own excuses for posting or not, that is completely their own choice whether they want to dedicate a post for this and that or go with private support only, no one is pointing a gun at anyone asking them to post anything. And again i keep on wondering why the cult like to jinx their own happiness? Like why are they making it sound like there's no hope for JK to show support for Tae, who tf told you? Do you foresee the future or?

I know that someone shared an ss about how Jimin is "using" JK's birthday but damn for someone who sat there watching Jimin's live through tears you sure enough didn't bother look up the translations.

JK did do a mini live when he could, he posted on WV a long heart-warming message but we came to know through Jimin that he is VERY busy and at that moment those of us who have functioning brains guessed that JK might not be able to come live because maybe he was still at the studio, those boys sometimes stay till ungodly hours of the night working hard.

During his live Jimin still reminded us TWICE to wish Jungkook a happy birthday and called it a "Happy day" too, and i know i joked about how Jimin did a live as a legal representative for JK bla bla bla but in reality if any of those friendless cult knew how relationships with people work they'd be 10x smarter.

Again, however you see Jimin and JK, and let's just go for best friends since calling them boyfriends gets your panties in a twist, it's totally a normal thing to want to take over for a friend if they can't be available for an event. Of course if you ever had a friend you'd understand how your friend can show up in your stead since you have your own excuse not to be present. Is it what Jimin did? We don't know, could be, he is after all a very close "friend" to JK.

So saying that he used JK's birthday.. as if him coming live any other day would've changed the outcome? I don't know what exactly are these people unhappy about? Like did you just wake up and chose to embarrass yourself or? Nothing extravagant even happened so what exactly is the problem here? I just want to understand what triggered a whole ass cult? Y'all are very good at making delusional theories maybe you could've used that to soothe yourself.

(Tagging this under Jikook cause i still need you to report the first mfr)