#so idk if it was Because he was alone or if it was Because it was nikkari that it felt so heavy. both feed into each other tho ofc

[echobx]

Rafe x reader request:

In episode "Parcel 9," the group plans to cut off a house's power, but they accidentally alert the elderly resident, who defends her home with gunfire. Reader gets injured, and despite objections, they're forced to leave her behind. Later, Rafe overhears their conversation, outraged by their abandonment. Determined to make things right, he enlists Barry to rescue Reader. Rafe finds Reader injured but alive, becoming her unexpected hero, and they bond through the ordeal.

Sorry it’s so long Xx

The Cellar - Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

summary: see ask

warnings: mention of reader's leg being injured, other than that none

word count: 1k

author's note: idk why it took me so long to finish this 😭 and now the formatting is (imo) bad bc I don't have my laptop here with me but I wanted to post this anyway. it's roughly edited but not much.

“We don't have a choice,” John B yells and pulls Sarah with him, leaving you stuck under the wooden pillar.

“Sarah!” you cry out but her boyfriend has already pulled her away, out of the cellar and away from you.

You do your best to contain your sobs and cries of pain, not wanting to alert the old lady again. Time passes slowly and you feel yourself growing weaker.

Unbeknownst to you Rafe has his ears perked, listening to John B promise Sarah to go back later that night to get you, but he doesn't sound convincing. Rafe quickly pulls out his phone and texts Barry to meet him at the Crain house.

When they get there it's already getting darker, and they have to use their flashlights to see around the garden and find their way into the cellar.

“John B? JJ?” you whisper as you hear someone enter the cellar, but the voice that answers is not one you are familiar with.

“You really think those two are gonna come back to get you?” Barry laughs quietly before you can see him.

“How'd this happen?” Rafe asks, reaching over to brush over your cheek, removing your tears.

“The old witch shot at us and then this thing fell on my leg and-” You stop before you start crying again and Rafe nods.

“Gonna get you out of here, love,” he promises and turns to Barry. They lift the pillar and you manage to scoot out from under it.

Rafe picks you up and carries you out and towards his car. He saved your life and you don't even know how he knew where to find you. But most of all you wonder why he cares enough to do it.

The ride is quiet, apart from his rather aggressive taps against the steering wheel, or the fact that he's 10 mph over the speed limit.

“Why did you come and get me?” you ask quietly after he puts you down on the couch in his home.

“Because you deserve better to be left alone and all,” Rafe runs his hand over the back of his neck. You have never seen him nervous. As a matter of fact, you have never seen much of him at all, especially not on your own. But now that he's standing in front of you, you get a clear look at him; furrowed brows, lips pressed to a thin line, his hair hanging into his face.

“The doctor will be here in a bit to check on you,” Rafe pulls your attention back to the present.

“Oh, I'm fine, really,” you lie and try to get up, but he catches you just as your legs start to give out from under you.

“I can see that,” he huffs and puts you back down on the sofa.

The doctor comes and leaves rather quickly, only prescribing bed rest and a special ointment for the bruises on your leg, as well as pain medication.

“Maybe I should get you cleaned up before we start the bed rest part of this,” Rafe mumbles and picks you up to go upstairs without you being allowed to say anything about it. It's like he has taken over and you're unsure if you really want to complain about it, about giving parts of your freedom away to him.

He helps you undress with his eyes closed. It's a funny game because he really doesn't want to cross a boundary with you, but he also can't see which makes you giggle when he accidentally grabs your boob instead of your arm and then he jumps back and nearly falls over all by himself.

“I didn't mean to do that,” he apologizes but you keep laughing.

“It's okay.”

His eyes are still closed when he helps you in the bathtub, only opening them after you have confirmed that your bubble bath is covering you completely.

“You can open your eyes again,” you giggle, and he peeks one eye open before looking at you fully. “Didn't think you'd be so weird about potentially seeing some boobs.”

“I'm trying this new thing called, being respectful. Apparently, girls are into that kinda shit,” Rafe says and flashes his eyebrows at you while pulling a small stool over to sit down next to the tub.

“No way!” you fake a gasp and he smiles. “Yeah, you would be surprised how well it's working.”

“Is it?” you ask and he nods, gnawing at his bottom lip.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask and he nods. “I always thought you were worse. I mean, you're not the best, still-”

“Not my fault you hang out with assholes,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“I hang out with Sarah, and Sarah has friends who are not always as bad as you think. I know JJ would've come back to get me,” you argue.

“Did he, though?” Rafe remarks snidely.

“Eventually they would’ve.” You are sure of it, your friends had never left you behind before, surely it had been a mistake.

“I can bring you back there if you're so sure,” Rafe suggests and you shudder.

“No, thank you. The old witch had a fucking rifle.”

“See,” Rafe chuckles softly and you can't help but gaze at him, at how pretty he looks.

You keep talking, getting to know him better, really. You learn that he, just like you, doesn't have the best relationship with his dad, always trying to get approval from the parent. And you learn that he likes bikes, and only golfs to annoy the old fuckers on the course.

And after you're done bathing he gives you some clothes he found in Sarah's room and you lie down on his bed, eating pizza and watching a movie.

“It's the best because they are both doing the same thing and in the end, all their efforts go out of the window because they realize they belong together,” you sigh happily as the movie starts playing. Rafe pulls you into his side, and you let him. And although he's not a fan of rom-coms, he sits with you, more focused on your reactions to the film than the actual screen.

And while he's watching you, he can't help but thank your dumb Pogue friends for leaving you behind and giving him a chance to win you over.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart @notdxbya

[samantha-star]

Paracelsus glossary has been updated. It's so sweet knowing that he does like aba

Also, I find it interesting that back when he was Nagel, he would inforce his wants and desires upon his wielders/hosts to what he wanted them to be and what he wanted in general wich would be a puppet thay had nothing but a sick lust for blood and violence, but now it has reversed to aba being able to change him to what she wants and can now even go farther away from his shapshifting abilities was able to do breaking the limits of his powers or at least breaking the limits on we knew he could do

slayer said in the audio drama, if Paracelsus didn't want this, he wouldn't have allowed it to happen and hell he did make an attempt to do so with him manipulating aba into getting more blood for him but then stopped

so, at least in my mind, he is ok with this he is allowing her to do this to him

But it also makes me wonder this during the time of crusades, Paracelsus/Nagel never formed a bond with any of his wielders he only used them, he could only shapshift to fit the image on what the person wanted him to be weapon wise plus possession and while he was a good fighter he wasn't strong enough to defeat slayer let alone hurt him but then he was found by aba slayer says during a fight between the two that the axe was stronger then last time they fought and now in current day he has formed a bond with aba a strong one his abilities of shapshifting have grown more to a point he could be anything aba wants him to be no matter if it's a weapon or a human

So with that, I think we are seeing the effects of what happens when the axe forms a bond with its wielders it becomes more powerful, and so does the person who wields it

And while their are not as strong as other characters, slayer most likely could send them blasting off to the sky's again no matter what. I still believe that they have become stronger than they were before, and they will continue to grow stronger in the future.

This sounds dumb but my brain keeps on making this connection, and I just desperately need to talk it. I love these two so much

Also, this idk if this was there before, but it's funny to know that the hair change was just her dying her hair and not because of her blood, lol

[bansurii]

Pen Pals

pair: sukuna x afab!reader

content: smut, stalking, threats, slight violence, dubious consent i think ?, profanity, choking, an impossible angle, sukuna is a serial killer but we never touch fully on that, reader is scared a lot, and idk what more is needed but just be careful proceeding MDNI thank you!

line dividers @cafekitsune

“So, what if your charming pen pal turns out to look like Quasimodo?”

“I have his picture! Besides, it’s not like we’ll ever actually meet. He’s serving life.”

Your friend gaped at you, her eyes widening in disbelief. 

The conversation had begun with your usual letter-writing ritual. What had once been a simple hobby had evolved into an infatuation with a man labeled as one of the world's most dangerous criminals. Despite his reputation, his letters had been nothing but kind, making your heart flutter with each new page. His picture revealed a ruggedly handsome man, his body adorned with tattoos that hinted at a dangerous past.

You had told your friend about him almost a year ago. Predictably, she responded with trepidation, urging you to choose a less notorious correspondent. 

“He’s still a person,” you’d argue. “Even the most hated need love too. And what harm could he do if he never knows where I live, let alone what I look like?”

However, his latest request had unsettled you both. He wanted a picture of you, something to remember you by during lonely times. Your friend was livid when you mentioned it.

“You cannot send him a picture! What if he has friends on the outside? I refuse to become a target because of your bad decisions!”

You laughed it off, continuing to write a diplomatic yet affectionate refusal. Your friend, exasperated, finally sighed in defeat.

“Well, enjoy writing to the serial killer. I’m staying at my boyfriend’s place for a while. If he gets out and comes after you, call the police first, then me.”

You reassured her with a laugh, promising to be cautious. She hugged you tightly before leaving. Neither of you noticed the grey car parked across the street, its presence having become so familiar it was easily ignored.

The following evening, a knock at your door startled you. Expecting your friend, you were puzzled to find no one there. Just a box. 

With a mix of excitement and dread, you approached the door. The box bore a note in handwriting you recognized instantly:

*Such a beautiful home. I thought you would enjoy a little gift from the other side…*

Your anxiety surged. You scanned the empty, unnaturally quiet street before retreating inside. The flickering streetlight across from your home seemed dimmer than usual, casting eerie shadows. A rustle in the bushes sent you scurrying back inside, locking the doors and setting the alarm with trembling hands.

The box sat ominously on your coffee table. Despite your curiosity, fear kept you from opening it. Instead, you holed up in your room, hoping sleep would come despite the dread gnawing at you.

In the dead of night, you jolted awake to the sound of metal scraping against metal. Someone was inside your home. 

Determined not to fall into the typical horror trope of investigating, you stayed put. But then you heard it—footsteps, slow and deliberate, ascending the carpeted stairs.

Panic gripped you. Clutching the bat you kept in your closet, you listened as the intruder approached. The door across the hall creaked open, and you steeled yourself for the worst. But then you recognized the sounds—muffled giggles and a familiar voice.

Relief washed over you. Your friend had returned, and apparently brought her boyfriend. You set the bat down, heart still racing, and fell back into bed, the adrenaline finally giving way to exhaustion.

In the morning, you would face the box and the mysteries it held. For now, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of your bed, hoping that sleep would bring a respite from the turmoil of the past few days.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your bedroom. Despite the terror of the previous night, you felt a strange sense of calm as you padded downstairs. The box still sat on the coffee table, its presence a reminder of the eerie note and the mystery it held.

Taking a deep breath, you sat on the couch and gingerly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of luxurious velvet, was an object that took your breath away. It was a stunningly crafted necklace, the centerpiece a large, gleaming sapphire surrounded by intricate filigree work in white gold. The piece was elegant, expensive, and utterly out of place for something sent from a prison.

You lifted it gently, the gem catching the light and casting tiny rainbows across the room. For a moment, the sheer beauty of the necklace overshadowed your fear. How could something so exquisite come from a man behind bars?

Elated but wary, you turned the necklace over in your hands, inspecting every detail. It was flawless, and the craftsmanship was impeccable. This was no ordinary gift. 

Your mind raced. How did he manage to send something so extravagant? More importantly, how did he know your address? You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled your friend's words: *“What if he has friends on the outside?”*

The realization hit you hard. He must have outside help. Someone capable of acquiring such a piece and delivering it to your doorstep. Your elation was quickly replaced by a deep sense of unease. 

How long had he known where you lived? You thought back to the grey car that had been parked across the street. Was it connected? Had you been watched?

You set the necklace back in the box, hands trembling. The beauty of the gift now seemed tainted by the sinister implications. Your friend's warnings echoed in your mind: *“I am not going to die because of your bad decisions!”* You couldn’t ignore the danger any longer.

Reaching for your phone, you dialed your friend’s number. She answered on the third ring, her voice groggy with sleep.

“Hey, it’s me. You were right. We need to talk.”

Later that day, your friend arrived, her face a mix of concern and frustration. You showed her the necklace, and she gasped.

“This is... gorgeous. But it’s also terrifying. How did he send this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “And I don’t know how he found my address.”

She paced the room, glancing nervously out the window. “We need to call the police. This is beyond creepy.”

You nodded, knowing she was right. The thrill of your pen pal had turned into something dangerous, something that required more than just caution. As you picked up the phone to dial the authorities, you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you, the sense of being watched. The beautiful necklace now felt like a heavy weight, a symbol of the peril you had unwittingly invited into your life.

As you waited for the police to arrive, you couldn’t help but wonder about the man who had written such kind letters. Was he truly as dangerous as they said, or was there more to the story? Either way, you knew you couldn’t continue the correspondence. The price of your curiosity had become too high, and your safety was worth far more than any thrill or beautiful gift.

A few weeks had passed, and your friend continued to stay with her boyfriend, feeling guilty for leaving you alone but too scared to return. She called you every day, ensuring you were unharmed and feeling as well as could be expected. The police had stationed an officer outside your house during those weeks, but with no further incidents, they eventually recalled the officer. They advised you to call if anything came up, assuring you they would do their best to keep you safe. You had downplayed the threat, omitting any mention of your pen pal. Had they known the full extent, they might have placed you under witness protection.

Unfortunately, the eerie calm was shattered today.

The grey car had returned, and this time, you could make out the driver. He bore a stark resemblance to the picture you had seen of your pen pal, the world’s most dangerous criminal, now sitting outside your home, watching and waiting. But for what? What did he plan to do once you were alone?

You couldn't call out from work again, needing to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Steeling yourself, you put on your best intimidating face and walked to your car, though you felt more like a deer caught in headlights. Ignoring the piercing, watchful eyes of the man was harder than you imagined, but you managed to get into your car and drive away.

You knew it was foolish to drive to work, thinking he might follow you, but if he knew your address, he likely knew where you worked. At least at work, you'd be surrounded by people and security personnel. If he tried anything—which you doubted he would in such a public setting—there would be help nearby.

The day dragged on, dread gnawing at you. Your focus was shattered, and your supervisor almost reprimanded you until they realized how shaken you were. They backed off, giving you space to regain your composure. HR knew something was seriously wrong but couldn’t disclose details to anyone else, offering you a temporary reprieve.

But this day was particularly harrowing, and you barely made it through. As the workday ended, you practically sprinted to your car, seeking the relative safety it offered while there were still people around.

Home was a different story.

You entered, not realizing the door had been unlocked until you were already in the living room. Shock, dread, and fear flooded you as you saw him there, seated on your sofa.

He was casually examining a picture of you with your friend, family, and your old pet. He looked content, as if he belonged there, as if he were truly at home.

Panic surged. You wondered what he could do to you in such close quarters. Thick walls muted sounds from neighboring homes; no one would hear you in time. You felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do if he made a move.

He shifted his position, dropping one leg and crossing the other, all the while holding your gaze. He took in your presence, the real you, not just the image he had studied. You were no longer a picture, but flesh and blood, standing before him.

“Nice to meet you, [Your Name].”

You had never told him your real name, only an alias. Somehow, he had discovered your true identity, just as he had found your address.

“I hope you don’t mind my intrusion. I couldn’t resist, especially after a month of silence from you. I noticed you called the police. I'm quite impressed that you managed to keep my presence in your life a secret.”

You trembled, tears starting to well in your eyes and trickle down your face.

“Ah, don’t cry. I’m not here to harm you. What I have in mind will be much more pleasurable. For both of us.”

His words chilled you to the core. The beauty of the necklace, the allure of his letters, all seemed like a distant dream compared to the present reality. You stood frozen, unable to move or speak, as he smiled at you, his intentions shrouded in menace and mystery.

“I-I…” 

The tears began to slow, your breath evening out as a semblance of calm started to return. He watched you closely, giving you a moment to dry your face and find the words that had eluded you. 

But silence persisted. Your thoughts were in disarray, still grappling with the reality of his sudden presence. He seemed to sense your inner turmoil, knowing you needed time to process the situation. As he approached, his imposing figure loomed over you, each step bringing him closer.

Realizing his intent, you instinctively retreated, but his long strides easily closed the distance. Your back met the cold, unyielding wall, trapping you. You wished you could tear it down, burrow into an indestructible sanctuary, and escape the nightmare your life had become. 

His proximity was overwhelming, a blend of menace and fascination, as you stood frozen, unable to tear your gaze from his. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air, a storm of emotions threatening to consume you both.

He continued to close the distance, his presence suffocating yet electrifying. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he drew nearer, until he was mere inches away. He raised his arms, placing his hands on the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. The scent of him, a mix of cologne and something distinctly male, enveloped you.

"Is this what you like?" he asked, his voice a low, tantalizing murmur. His eyes bored into yours, searching for a reaction.

Your breath hitched, the proximity overwhelming your senses. The thrill of fear and an unexpected surge of excitement coursed through you, leaving you dizzy and unable to respond.

"Tell me," he continued, leaning in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is this what you've been waiting for?"

The intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his breath, and the sheer force of his presence made it hard to think, let alone speak. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, your mind a chaotic mix of fear, confusion, and a strange, unwelcome attraction. His dominance was intoxicating, leaving you both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.

His hands remained on the wall, trapping you, as his eyes continued to hold yours captive. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with unspoken tension. In that moment, you realized you were at his mercy, and the realization sent a shiver down your spine.

The intensity in his gaze didn't waver as he spoke again, his voice a silken whisper. "Why don't you show me around? I'd like to see more of your home."

Your heart pounded as you nodded, feeling compelled to comply. Slowly, he dropped his hands from the wall, giving you a semblance of freedom, though his presence still dominated the space. He gestured for you to lead the way.

With trembling steps, you walked towards the staircase, feeling his eyes on you, a constant reminder of the danger and allure he embodied. The transition from the living room to the upper floor was surreal, the normalcy of your home tainted by his dark presence. Each step up the stairs felt like a journey deeper into an inescapable labyrinth.

You reached the top of the stairs and paused, glancing back at him. His expression was unreadable, but a faint, almost predatory smile played at his lips. You hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door to your bedroom.

"This is my room," you said softly, stepping inside.

He followed, his tall frame filling the doorway before he moved to the center of the room. He looked around, taking in every detail. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Show me more," he instructed, his voice firm yet oddly gentle.

You led him to the adjoining bathroom, your hands trembling as you opened the door. The bathroom was small but neat, the shower glistening under the overhead light. He inspected it briefly, then turned back to you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"This will do nicely," he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more.

Your mind raced, the reality of the situation pressing down on you. "What do you want from me?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "For now, just your cooperation. Tonight is just the beginning. After the night's activities, I might need a place to clean up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. The ambiguity of "activities" left your mind reeling with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. You found yourself nodding, unable to do anything else.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek. "Now, let's make the most of our evening together."

His touch was both reassuring and sinister, a stark reminder of the control he wielded over you. “Take this off…”

You were shocked, appalled even, at such a request from a man you barely knew, despite the intimacy of his letters, the truths he shared, his truth. 

You hesitated, glancing up at him with a mix of trepidation and a spark of rebellion. 

He smirked slightly, as if he had anticipated your resistance. His hand reached out, but you scurried backward, clutching onto what felt like the last vestiges of your dignity. 

He wasn’t taking no for an answer, not from someone who had shown him such genuine kindness, such unguarded affection for the first time in decades.

It dawned on you just how monumental a mistake that kindness had been.

As you stood there, frozen in your shock, he moved swiftly. In an instant, he had closed the distance between you, his strong hands seizing your blouse. The fabric bunched under his grip, the force of his hold sending a jolt through you.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “You and I both know this was inevitable.”

His words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the palpable tension that seemed to throb between you. His touch, firm and unyielding, ignited a tumult of emotions within you—fear, defiance, and a disturbing undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite name.

“You think you can just come into my life and—” your voice faltered, the defiance wavering under the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t think, I know,” he interrupted, his tone commanding and confident. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. “You invited me in with every letter, every secret you shared. This connection we have—it’s real. And now, it’s time to face it.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled you closer, the proximity making your heart race. The air between you crackled with an undeniable energy, a mix of danger and an inexplicable pull that left you both terrified and entranced.

“You’ve got me all wrong,” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice.

“No,” he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the reality of your situation crashing over you. The walls of your sanctuary seemed to close in, the room shrinking as his presence dominated. You were caught in his web, and the more you struggled, the more entangled you became.

With a final, firm tug, he brought you even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s see how this night unfolds,” he murmured, a promise and a threat woven into his words.

In that moment, you realized there was no escape. You were his, for better or worse, and the night was just beginning.

His deft hands worked quickly, yet with a surprising gentleness, as he pulled at your blouse. He was careful, mindful of not tearing buttons or threads, his touch respectful in its slow haste to undress you. Each movement seemed deliberate, as if he were savoring the unveiling of your skin, as if he knew the value of each delicate inch.

Once your clothing lay discarded, you stood before him in just your bralette and panties, exposed yet somehow still veiled in mystery. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of a woman—a vision of beauty that left him breathless. He drank in every curve, every line, every delicate feature, his gaze lingering on each detail as if committing them to memory.

He had seen countless women in his lifetime, but none had captivated him quite like you. There was something about you, something ineffable and intoxicating, that drew him in, leaving him hungry for more.

In that moment, as you stood there before him, vulnerable yet unyielding, he realized just how much he craved you. And he knew, with a certainty that bordered on obsession, that he would stop at nothing to possess you completely.

You knew that begging would likely be futile, so you chose silence instead, allowing your gaze to wander anywhere but at him and what he was doing. But he seemed to revel in being watched, his ego swelling as he unveiled each layer of your clothing.

His touch was insistent as his index finger and thumb grasped your chin, forcing your gaze to remain solely on him. You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, but it was quickly quelled by the intensity of his gaze.

With practiced ease, he removed your bra, followed by your panties. The air between you crackled with tension as he exposed you completely, and you couldn't help but feel exposed and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

A low groan escaped him, barely audible but unmistakable. It was a sound of longing, of desire unleashed after years of confinement. You realized then just how long it had been since he had seen a living, breathing woman, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You stood there, naked and exposed, feeling his eyes on you like a physical touch. There was something primal in the way he looked at you, as though he were seeing you for the first time, drinking in every curve and contour of your body.

You tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was difficult under his relentless gaze. You felt stripped bare, not just of your clothing but of your defenses, your vulnerabilities laid bare before him.

As he stepped closer, the heat of his body enveloping you, you knew that there was no turning back. The night stretched out before you, a vast unknown filled with equal parts fear and fascination. And as he reached out to pull you closer, you couldn't help but wonder what other surprises lay in store.

Your cheek pressed into the cold, quartz floor of your bathroom, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You could feel the weight of him behind you, his eyes drinking in the sight of your rear pressing against his hips. His blazer, shirt, and pants had been discarded, leaving him in just his boxers. Despite the fabric that still separated your bodies, you felt everything from him—his warmth, his strength, his desire.

He had positioned you in a neat arch, your body stretched taut, every muscle straining against the confines of your own submission. His command was clear: remain still, hold that position until he was ready to take you further.

You obeyed, every fiber of your being thrumming with anticipation and fear. The cold floor beneath you was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him, and the sensation only heightened your awareness of every touch, every breath that brushed against your skin.

Time seemed to stand still as you waited, your body poised on the precipice of something unknown. You could hear the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat, a counterpoint to the electric tension that hung heavy in the air.

And then, without warning, his hands were on you, tracing the contours of your body with a touch that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers were skilled, mapping every curve and dip with a precision that left you breathless.

You felt him shift behind you, his body moving with a fluid grace that belied the strength coiled beneath his skin. You were afraid of the movement, wanting to look behind you to see what exactly he was doing. And when you felt the tip of him nearing your heat, you redacted the beautiful arch he helped you to create for him and tried to squirm away.

Before you knew it, he had your hair twisted in his hand, pressing your head painfully further against the floor, his breath fanning over your ear. “Move again… and I will crack your skull over this floor and with this treasure I’ll summon something worse than death for you.”

And then, with a suddenness that stole your breath away, he entered you, filling you completely with a single, powerful thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of pleasure and pain that threatened to consume you. You bit back a gasp, your body trembling with the effort to remain still as he took you further, deeper into the abyss of his desire. He was much too large to enjoy, your stretched muscles struggling to comprehend the intrusion.

And as he moved within you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of oblivion, you realized that there was no turning back. You were his, body and soul, caught in the grip of a passion that threatened to consume you both. And in that moment, as he claimed you as his own, you surrendered to the darkness that beckoned, knowing that there was no escape from the depths of his desire.

By the time he was finished, you had orgasmed nearly six times. The final was barely an orgasm, he had edged you and slapped your ass. Breathy laughs finding your ears and somehow you felt yourself able to share his laughter. Your cunt clenched against his twitching length, a feeling he relished in.

Just when you thought he was finished, he pushed your legs apart as far as they would go, nearly into a split, pressing himself further into you, impossibly deeper. Your eyes bulged, hips tightened and your cunt contracted against his deep-seated length once more, your cervix contracting and relaxing in slow bouts against his tip. He lifted your hips, allowing him a new arch, fresh angle, and an even deeper reach. 

You wanted to sob, to beg him to stop, but you also wanted to see what he would do in this position. 

He reached one hand in front, taking your neck into his possession and he pulled back just enough to keep you stationary and choke you slightly at the same time, the angle would do the rest. 

And slowly, he pulled back, allowing just the tip to remain before he thrusts intensely inside of you, pressing against the spot he knew would drive you insane. 

And you cursed him, screaming out all sorts of obscenities and lewd things as he continued to abuse the same spot. His girth squeezed in and out of you with much effort, the tightened feel of your cunt in this position was the one thing that kept him grounded, eyes drawn into a focus on your connected bodies. 

He had cum so many times and this position had him dangerously close to blowing his load again, but he held back just enough. He wanted to cum with you again.

Increasing his speed, he pushed and pulled inside your pussy, watching as it sucked him and pushed him out simultaneously. 

“S’kunaaaa… Fuuuccckkk! Pl-please!”

He knew what you were begging for, screaming out his name for. And he was so close to giving it to you. He had to give you what you wanted since you had been so obedient for him all night. He was nearing his end, bringing his free hand down to your clit and rubbing dangerous circles and odd shapes into it, nearly ritualistic in his methods and just he groaned his approval, you squirted. Full-body quakes erupting, your eyes rolling back into your head. Anyone watching the scene would have thought you were having a seizure. 

But Sukuna knew. And you knew.

It was simply nirvana.

[jazeswhbhaven]

We outside with a Bad Boy~ (Satan Attacker Prologue Part II)

P A U S E

if you're seeing this first, check out Part I here ->

If you already checked it out, then let's continueeeee

So we left off on Beel trying to take MC away before shit went down in Satan's office. So here we have Levi trying to guilt trip them into going with him (thanks Levi)

And then we have Mammon who's just trying to have a relaxing spa day (in boiling gold....Mammon...please think about how human bodies and skin work against a temperature so high where gold can be boiled please babes)

So because MC can't make a choice at the moment, all three kings are growling at each other (i'd be melting to be honest because yes fight over me) and then there's something strange? another noise? huh?????

HE WHAT

So we have Satan busting inside his office, slamming the kings into the wall, and doing that ever so famous Akira motorcyle pose to come whisk MC away from the scene.

And idk about ya'll but even though I was having a time watching those three fight over MC, I was rooting for Satan being able to take them away because I mean...presentation. He showed up like the badass he is AND on a motorbike he tinkers and fixes up himself?

handy. hot. fast. amazing hair.

let's motherfucking go bby.

So we begin the chase....and from this screenshot alone, I'm pretty sure he's done something similar before where he's had to run away from them at some point. Probably when they were kids and playing tag.

SO they do come after MC and Satan. Mammon using his gigantic hands and Levi's monster tentacle things that he summons from his coffin. (iirc from his event that monster is called Leviathan and Levi just adopted the name because he doesn't actually have a real name just a number he was given at the devil camps)

So let me get this straight for a moment.

The nobles and other subjects that help in the palace were just getting done fixing up the place and here comes these two crashing and bashing things up again.

I'd be pi s s s s e d as a citizen who just finished fixing up my driveway/house and it gets fucked up again. It reminds me of Gotham city. Like what insurance will cover this? (lmao)

So Beel is also chasing us with his swarm of flies. Satan isn't worried about this nor was he worried about Levi or Mammon, calling them slow for how large they are and himself quick and nimble because of how 'small' he is compared to them.

And it clears because he maneuvers through those skinny-ass alleyways of Gehenna quite easily, and it's unfamiliar stuff for the other kings so ofc they can't really catch Satan on his own stomping grounds.

But full stop before I continue.

Have ya'll noticed that Satan embodies street punk, bad boy could be in a biker gang or part of the yakuza but lives in a quaint European town like Gehenna with Victorian meets Balenciaga (cause of the Gucci/Loui V boots) dressed nobles? Like...I feel Gehenna should have been reminiscent of a place like Cyberpunk 2077 or like that city in Gantz.0 or just anything city wise with lots of rainy days and cyberwave music.

So back to our story because I had to stop and think about some wishful stuff for Satan lmao

SOOO he ended up killing Beel's flies because he knew the exact time that a restaurant throws out their hot boiling pots of water for this weird red corn with teeth that Belial eats a lot (gawd I'd starve in Hell nothing is normal for me to eat lmao)

And he zoom zoom zooms to different part of the city

NOW HERE IS WHERE IT GETS HOT FOR ME

Sometimes I keep forgetting that I like certain elements of Satan. That he has qualities that I thirst for in theory for a partner that I know I don't want irl because the moment they even do it I'd dry up like a desert.

But when Satan does it? Floodgates.

So we're in an alleyway of just an area that looks nothing like the rest of Gehenna (peep the background it looks like a downtown area unless Europe is like that, idk I've never been outside the states with my broke ass, I just recently got my passport like a couple years ago T^T)

And MC is talking loud as per usual, and Satan is like "shhh" lmao

the reason being is because he's trying to make sure that he got away from everyone, and since all they hear are just random citizens in suits walking around, that means the coast is clear for now.

also, he's heated up? oh you know what that means

Okay I take back my prior statement about the background, I couldn't see the transition to the city area MY BAD FOLKS

anyways Satan's got us all pushed up on the wall, MC describing how they haven't seen him in a while so everything is like new, like how they first met, and that he may be smaller than the other kings, but he's larger than MC (lets me know that MC is probably at best 5ft 5 or 5 ft 6)

Also...grabbing MC by the scruff of their neck? HELLO?

Now see...he would of had me right there. I'd be a trembling mess because don't tell me that while we're outside? You need to?

Mean you are horny as fuck right now and you need to take me to pound town? AFTER SAYING ONLY HE CAN TAKE US ANYWHERE FUCHOSUJNCOJOKLSNLJKNFLKJ

Look at the pan out on the first screenshot, I'm crying...his horns make up most of his height and that will always amuse the fuck out of me.

Also MC brought up that his body is hard, like he's made of condensed muscle and I'm like oh you know when people draw on large canvases and shrink it down and the image because sharper?

(I know weird analogy but work with me)

that pink CAWK could reach anywhere as far as I'm concerned

oh I jumped the gun earlier...this is when he says he can take you anywhere lololol

but yeah that would send me to the heavens, i'd be begging for him to fuck me at this point like take me ANYWHERE SATAN like I know you will, because yeah.

^^^ me with that d i c k

ANYWAYS LOLOL I'm so unserious ya'll i'm sorry

But that ends the prologue. I DO plan on summarizing the rest of this story btw but I have to figure out how I want to do it because it's mostly just smut stuff lmao and I have to choose the screenshots carefully cause his dick is out in most of it and tumblr is NO NO with that.

As my closing statement there was a time where MC was just like "I wish there were three of me so I could go with all of them" and I'm just thinking to myself....

Beel would be interested in helping you tackle that, MC...and then Levi would probably be like "Yeah if I hack you into pieces for not coming with me" and Mammon is just like "Three of you? All for me??? :D"

It would be so silly.

but as usual, thank you for stopping by and reading my react rambles. It's always a pleasure and I appreciate you all <3

Stay tuned for more react posts because I'm on a role today~ so you will be bombared.

your lovely admin- \(♡´౪<♡)/

[ofdreamsanddoodles]

i feel like too many people are assuming something evil's up with jack. like i won't deny the possibility but "spooky child" feels like such a low hanging fruit esp when it seems pretty plausible that celia just genuinely freaked out when she started "sleepwalking" and made a lot of self sabotaging behaviors that ended with her having a kid. like, jack is one of the first things she thinks about the first time we see her wake up. she calls georgie up to keep him company even tho he's asleep to make sure he's not alone when she gets back (which is what she should do, dont get me wrong). it's clear she cares a lot about her kid, which i assume wouldn't be the case if he was some kind of weird supernatural child that took over her life

i think there's just some inherent disbelief that celia could be a working mom. like idk we don't see it a lot in fiction so it seems extra unusual, but the fact that it's a Big Deal is kind of part of her character. the fact alice reacts so strongly to her having a kid & the fact she mentions it immediately when she goes on a date with sam is part of the struggles of being a young mom. she has to be more responsible than other people around her, because there's someone else she has to take care of. it makes her relationship w sam inherently more serious which in turn creates a bigger gap between alice, sam & celia bc they can't "go out & have fun" like she wants. jack is ALREADY important to the plot just by being a baby.

[just-another-useless-human]

So I was at a restaurant recently and there was a waiter who looked exactly like goose, only younger and some tattoos on his arm.

The restaurant i was at, was kinda fancy but in a easy way if yk what i mean (you probably have no idea what i mean), it had a really chill vibe and everyone was very nice. I think goose would have definitely fit right in

Ofc my brain went BOOM TOP GUN WAITER AU!!!

So here are some of my thoughts (i dont think i ever did smth like this, let alone publish it but here i go i guess) :

Goose is about 20 bc the waiter looked aroud that age

He just finished school, is broke and had no idea what to do and saw a flyer that says that restaurant, near his and mavs flat, needs staff.

Mav and goose met in high-school and have been besties since

Goose gets the job as a waiter and somehow gets mav in there too. Probably the restaurant needing more staff and goose says "i know exactly the guy you are looking for" with a smirk

Goose meets this sweet and funny lady, who is a regular, he always gets excited when she comes to eat breakfast and he doesn't alow anyone else to serve her. (Do you call it serve or wait idk??)

He massively fails at flirting, mav and the others tease him because of it but carol thinks its cute.

Slider works in the kitchen, as well as merlin and sundown

Hollywood and Wolfman are waiters like goose and maverick

Slider has a good looking friend (ice ofc) who often comes to eat, he even is allowed (more or less) to visit slider in the kitchen and he always sneaks himslef a snack (that man is not sneaky)

All the staff ppl have nicknames (just need an excuse for their ✨️navy codenames✨️) and ofc goose gets his bc of his honking laugh and maverick bc he is in his own world when he is concentrating on his work, better at it when he his doing it on his own and hates it when others stick their nose in his work and disturb him.

Slider got his nickname bc he once dropped soup and sliped on it

Merlin has his because he is magicaly good at seasoning and always seasons the food like a wizard would, to make fun of it, but now its a habit of his

Mav nad ice always banter when ice is there and mav serves him often, they both start to develop a crush but wont tell eachother. They both have to big of an ego to admit to have a crush

Ofc goose knows and teases him because of it, but still tries to wingman the best he can (pun intended)

Mav flirts with customers to see ices reaction but also bc he is mav and he just does that

Also mav nad ice making out in the kitchen after everyone left and ice lingered up until mavs shift ended mmmmmmmmm

Thanks for reading this🫶!! Even though its just me rambling to feed my brain worms.

Maybe i will write more about this idk

<33

[cryscendo]

for the kiss prompts, klaine and "kissing your lover to show you forgive them"? <3

omg i loved this prompt!!! it gave me a chance to write something a bit sweeter than i usually write so i hope you love it! idk how long a drabble is typically supposed to be, but im sure i exceeded that here whoops

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson

Word Count: 1152

Rating: G

if anyone would like to send me a prompt, check out the prompt list here!

fic can be read under the cut <3

Blaine still harbored a lot of guilt, Kurt knew. He wasn’t such a fool that he didn’t realize that the sudden proposal was Blaine’s effort to show how devoted he was. And Kurt really did believe him, regardless of how aloof he tried to appear to be at times.

Upon Blaine’s whirlwind proposal, the two of them hadn’t had much time to discuss anything between each other. They were busy having their attention pulled every which way by family and friends alike. And make no mistake — Kurt was grateful for it! He missed his friends dearly ever since moving to New York, and his family even more so. But Kurt was well aware, given their previous struggles with communication, that they would need to talk. It was an inevitability, really.

So that’s what eventually led them to the Hudson-Hummel household alone. “Carole and I are just gonna go see a movie. Maybe also get dinner or something. You boys don’t wait up,” his dad had said, but Kurt knew what he was really saying. The words hidden underneath sounded more like You and Blaine ought to talk about this. And like with most things, his father was right.

It was only seconds after the door closed behind his parents that Blaine started kissing him. And Kurt… he missed this. He really did. Kissing Blaine was something that he could never grow tired of, and after having gone so long without the contact, it felt like home. Sure, he had Adam for a time, and there was also Mr. Schue’s wedding, but those were so different. Kissing Blaine like this; it was with the knowledge that they belong to one another. More so now than ever before.

Which is why they needed to talk about this.

“I can’t believe we’re engaged,” Blaine muttered against Kurt’s mouth, quiet giddiness dripping from his lips and intoxicating Kurt like an aged wine. He couldn’t believe it either, honestly. He had the weight of it around his finger and still couldn’t believe it. He could stay kissing Blaine like this forever, just existing in this rush of gentle joy.

They needed to talk about this.

“It’s everything I ever wanted,” Blaine continued, carefully carding his fingers through Kurt’s hair. He leaned into Kurt, eager to experience closeness that he no doubt had been craving for so long since their break up. “You’re everything I ever wanted,” he whispered then and Kurt could easily see himself slipping into the fantasy that everything is perfect and there’s no loose ends. It was easy with Blaine. He was so charming and genuine, it was nearly second nature for him to cave beneath it.

They needed to talk about this.

“Blaine,” Kurt uttered finally, nudging Blaine away with a light press of his hand on Blaine’s chest. “Why did you do this?”

It’s not the words he meant to say, but they had already spilled out of his throat before he could even think about stopping them. Fine. He guessed his brain wasn’t going to be diplomatic about this.

Though, with the look of confusion that spread across Blaine’s features led him to somewhat regret speaking up. Blaine pulled away from Kurt, but kept his fingers nestled in Kurt’s hair. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why did you do this?” Kurt questioned, redirecting to the silver ring that wrapped around his finger.

This time, Blaine did let go of Kurt, his anxiety betraying him and fully replacing the happiness from earlier that evening. “Because I love you, Kurt. And it’s important to me that you know that,” Blaine said and it was so obscenely sincere that it tugged at Kurt’s heart. Then, Kurt watched as tension built inside Blaine as he spoke again. “Oh god, you’re not changing your mind, are you?”

“No, no, not at all!” Kurt reassured quickly. He took Blaine’s hand in both of his, holding them close to offer some sort of security and warmth. Blaine, Kurt has really begun to learn, is driven heavily by emotions. He needed to tread lightly. “This just all came very suddenly, that’s all. Blaine, I love you too, but if there’s something else going on, I need to know about it. No more secrets, right?”

It seemed like Kurt had said the right things, because Blaine nodded, and sag in his shoulders indicated that he was a bit more relaxed. He couldn’t really blame Blaine for being emotionally turbulent today; a lot has happened in the past few hours. “You’re right, no secrets,” he agreed and followed up with a soft sigh. Kurt held securely to his hand, silently encouraging Blaine to continue. After a brief moment of reticence, he spoke again. “I’m just so scared, Kurt. I messed this up once already, and I feel terrible everyday for it. I wanted to do this to show you that I’m really serious about us — about you. I never want to make you feel that way ever again. Cheating on you was by far the worst mistake of my life and I’ll regret it forever.”

Kurt listened quietly as Blaine poured his heart out. He had figured that it had something to do with their break up. It was too big of a roadblock to just ignore.

Keeping one hand holding Blaine’s, Kurt reached up with his other hand and played with one of the loose curls that had sprung free from Blaine’s hair gel at some point throughout the day. “I think you should start forgiving yourself.”

The look of confusion returned to Blaine’s face. “But I-”

“I know what you did,” Kurt interrupted before Blaine could self-deprecate further. “And I also know that you apologized no less than eight-hundred times since it happened. I won’t lie, Blaine, it broke my heart when you cheated. But you’ve said you’re sorry, and I do believe you. We wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t.”

The hand that was toying with Blaine’s hair slid down to instead cradle his cheek. Blaine’s eyes were glassy, but under that, there was undeniable love and devotion. Blaine loved him so much; it was impossible to not see it.

With as much intention as he could hope to portray, Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine’s lips. It was a simple kiss; chaste in comparison to many of the others that they had shared throughout their relationship. But there were words written all over the kiss — words that Kurt didn’t feel were necessary to verbalize, and could only hope that Blaine could feel them like a brand to his skin.

The peaceful sigh that Blaine released against his mouth was all the confirmation that Kurt needed.

Kurt allowed the kiss to linger for a few moments longer before pulling away slowly. His eyes met wet, brown ones that shimmered in pure adoration. “I have long since forgiven you, Blaine. It’s time that you start forgiving yourself.”

[amirasainz]

Hi! Cloud I please request Amira attending a race in Australia but before that visiting the famous Bondi Beach with some of her family (that isn't Carlos) and the lifeguards from Bondi Rescue, current and ex are really excited to meet her. The beach isn't too busy because it's be like autumn time. Idk where else to go with this sorry

Don't worry, my friend. You are at the right place. I hope you guys enjoy reading this and let me know if you have any requests.

-XoXo

Bondi Rescue

The Australian Grand Prix—the race that held a special place in Amira’s heart. She loved the vibrant energy of the “Land Down Under,” from the people to the natural beauty and the animals. This year, she had a whole list of things she wanted to do in Australia. Unfortunately, because it was Saturday, neither Carlos nor the other drivers could join her. However, her cousin Carlos “Cacao” Oñoro Sainz stepped up as her sidekick.

After visiting the Australian Zoo, going on a shopping spree and enjoying lunch with a view of the Opera House, they decided to cap off their busy morning with a relaxing beach trip. And what better place than the beloved Bondi Beach?

Cacao wasn’t thrilled about random strangers seeing his little cousin in a bikini, but he’d silently judge anyone who dared to look twice at her. Fortunately, the beach was mostly empty due to the cooler weather and a recent storm warning. But nothing could deter Amira from visiting Bondi Beach.

After they set up their spot, Amira wordlessly made her way toward the water. “Hey, hey, hey. Where do you think you’re going, pequeño alborotador?” Carlos asked, concern in his voice. “Well, we’re at a beach, so I’m going…in the…water,” she whispered the last part. They locked eyes, each assessing the other.

With a shrug, Amira continued walking into the water, ascending until it reached her thighs. Cacao stayed back, keeping a close eye on her. Carlos Sr., Carlos Jr., and every other family member would never forgive him if anything happened to her. Hell, he wouldn’t forgive himself either. This was the moment he started overthinking really hard.

As Amira took a moment to soak in the surroundings—the distant seagulls, the water’s gentle aggression—her relaxation was interrupted by a shout from her right.

“Hey, everything alright?” A man stood there, long blond hair and a kind smile. Clearly, he was a lifeguard. “Si, I’m alright.” Jethro, the lifeguard, was mesmerized by the pretty girl before him. “You aren’t from 'ere, are ya? A beautiful girl like you probably comes from heaven or something.” His comment made Amira giggle, opening the door for conversation.

In the lifeguard house, Huts and Jessie watched Jethro talking to the breathtaking woman. She had caught their attention when she ventured into the water alone. For some reason, Jethro had volunteered to approach her.

“Mate, what are you two watching?” Harries asked. “You won’t believe this, H, but our boy Jethro is talking to the most magnificent Sheila over there,” Jessie replied, keeping his gaze fixed. “No way!” Harries grabbed the binoculars from Huts. “No freaking way. Since when does Jethro have it in him?” he murmured. Gavin joined them, and for the next 10 minutes, the entire Bondi Beach lifeguard staff kept their eyes on Jethro and the pretty girl.

“- and even though I’ve told them five times not to swim near the cliffs, they keep going back there.” “No way,” Amira laughed. She genuinely enjoyed talking to Jethro. He was funny and kind. When he offered her his T-shirt to ward off the wind chill, she appreciated the gesture. After a comfortable silence, Jethro asked shyly, “I know we just met, but I’d like to see you again next time you’re here. Would it be okay to ask for your number?” “Of course. I enjoyed our conversation too.” Amira assured him. When she tried to return his shirt, he quipped, “Na, don’t worry, pretty girl. I’m really hot-blooded,” making her burst into laughter.

And Cacao? Cacao blinked, momentarily disoriented by his thoughts. The sound of his cousin’s footsteps snapped him back to reality. Amira had returned, and he focused on her, ready to engage in their next adventure.

[strawb3rrystar]

Imagine this right

Bayverse raph right? Big strong muscly loud guy? Mhm mhm?

Weird affection s/o, like for me, I bite as a way of showing affection (obviously) and I also make stuff for people like IVE FULL ON CARVED A DAGGER FOR SOMEONE BEFORE, so like how would he react to the love of his life just being weird affectionate

(Another example of my affection is: drawing on them, playfully punching, random bits and bobs like buttons, sleeping on them dont ask and squeezing the living daylights out of them)

Idk you don’t have to include all of it, let alone do this request

Love languages in red.

Pairing: Bayverse! Raphael x GN! Reader

Warnings: None!

Word count: 302

✰Masterlist

✰Bayverse! Raph who loves receiving the weird gifts you make him. Sure, they're a little odd at times, but you were thinking about him while making it. He keeps all of them and stores them in a box under his bed. Whenever he's feeling sad he just opens the box and he's reminded of how much you love him. If you ever find out about the box, Raph will get very embarrassed and deny its existence.

✰Bayverse! Raph who finds it amazing when you draw on his arm. He thinks you look very cute trying to concentrate on your drawing and not on the way his muscle flexes in your hand. He'll refuse to wash off your drawings, no matter what it is. He thinks that washing something so beautiful away is basically like him telling you he doesn't love you.

✰Bayverse! Raph who wants to cry when you sleep on him. The fact that you're so comfortable around him that you'll sleep on him says something. Especially early on in your relationship. If you're cuddling and fall asleep on him, he won't move a single muscle. Will get so mad if his brothers are too loud and wake you up. He's so scared of crushing you in his sleep, though. Holds you like stained glass that's about to shatter.

✰Bayverse! Raph who wants you to squeeze the living daylight out of him. Of course, you kinda can't because of his shell. But, he loves when you cling onto his arms. He is very strong, so even if you squeeze him with all your might you won't hurt him. He finds it funny when you want attention, so you start basically beating up his arm. Could literally pick you up and throw you around, yet he lets you playfully beat him up.

Star's notes -> I love writing for this oversized teddy bear.

(Thank you @footninja for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @raphaelsqueen @mamaemoemu @sleebykei @looking4userthatworks @toast-on-dandelioms

@alexandria-fandom @ghostdoodlen @roboticsuccubus83 @sweetadonisbutbetter @little-miss-chaoss

@sunr1s3-strab3rr1 @kipxer @spongejuice @blood-heart22 @myamythos

@ghoul-with-a-gun  @facelessfionna | Join the taglist

[therealflickerman]

Split Lips (tasm!peter parker x reader)

Part two

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it be when the two worlds meet.

______________________________________________________________

chapter summary: You never want Peter Parker around, but you find he tents to show up whenever you need him most.

word count: 4.9k

chapter contents: reader is intended to be fem! , language, a little banter and a little fluff, reader is anxious and a mess,  idk anything about american diner culture, these two r awkward idiots that don’t know how to be soft 

note: poor pete just wants to be your friend, and poor reader is a disaster girl. I had so much fun writing this chapter I hope yall enjoy it!, thank u charlie for editing

masterlist

series masterlist

chapter one / chapter two / (ongoing!)

Your earphones carry music to your eardrums, blaring at the highest volume possible, it's a feeble attempt to drown out your thoughts and you’re not quite sure it’s working. It crosses your mind that you should probably lower the volume sparing others in the library from the distraction, however, as you find yourself re-reading the same sentence for the third time, you can’t quite find it in yourself to care. 

A groan slips past your lips, the heels of your palms find the sockets of your eyes and you sit like this for a moment before dragging your hands down your face in irritation. Your biology textbook sits on the desk in front of you, the annotated page, a testament to last night's productivity, mocks you with its perfection. 

You’ve been at this since Eleven a.m. and you can quite literally feel your brain melting out of your head, it’s rare you have trouble studying, actually, you would go so far as to call it a forte of yours. You blame your recent bout of sleeplessness and curse how busy your brain has been the last few nights. 

Sliding your sleeve just above your watch, you check the time, it reads ‘one twenty-six p.m.’. “Shit,” you exhale, scolding yourself for letting the time slip through our hands.

You look at the testbook with disdain, promising yourself at least fifteen minutes of study before your shift at the diner begins. You flip to a new section and pray a change of scenery will kickstart your brain into surrendering a bit more work, though you feel deep down that it’s a lost cause. 

A defeated sigh escapes you, your eyes lock on the start of the page and you begin to read. The chapter talks of the immune system's response to pathogens and you recall touching on the topic in class. You specifically remember that day because Peter had ‘accidently’ spilt his milk all over your notes during one of his usual attempts to irritate you, despite the way his grin curled into that of a worried frown, and the way he had jumped into action, letting out frantic apologies, you’re not so sure it truly was an accident, though maybe that's what you’d like to think. 

Your brows furrow as you realise you’ve in fact lost your train of thought once again, your brain had wandered off about a thousand times already that morning, but it particularly bugs you this time as it dawns on you that you are unable to escape Peter Parker, even as you sit alone with your thoughts. For a second your throat feels tight and you think you could cry from pure frustration, though you look to the library that surrounds you, there are a mix of silently working students and businessmen, and you decide you don’t want to be the deranged woman crying into her biology textbook at one-thirty p.m. the afternoon before her test. 

You opt to take a deep breath rather than the later and you reread the line, taking a note on the sentence before completing the paragraph. You turn the page and you finally feel concentration begin to build. 

A yelp slips from your lips as a book drops and lands before you with a soft thud, it breaks the still silence of the library, shattering the first string of focus you had managed since last night's study session. Your gaze shoots upwards and you’re met with the same big brown eyes you’ve become accustomed to.  

“Enjoying your last-minute study session?” he plops into the chair across from you carelessly. 

You struggle to hear him through your loud music though you quite like it that way.

Your eyes narrow and you rip your headphones out with a swift tug. Music plays from them softly as they’re discarded on the desk. “Peter-”, you start, and wish you had the chance to finish. 

“I finished studying last night but,” he slides your textbook across the table, spinning it in his direction so he can read your annotations, “it’s good to see you putting in the work,”

“Peter, I am going to kill you” In a fit of irritation, you aggressively shove the textbook back to your side of the desk, you genuinely cannot believe your luck or lack thereof. 

“That's not very nice,” 

“You…” you spit loudly, wincing at the volume of your voice before lowering your tone, “are not very nice.” Your hand motions to all of him and your eyes narrow further in aggravation. 

He mouths a humoured ‘wow’, and leans back in the chair with an arrogant grin and a cross of his arms.

“How did you even,” you find the words, “there are like twenty libraries in Queens and you’re

sitting across from me…” your arms crossed, “uninvited” you emphasise. 

He shrugs with a grin and leans over, digging through his beat-up backpack.

He silently places his things on the desk, ‘just make yourself at home’ you huff ironically with an eye roll. He laughs softly at your comment as he pulls out a small pencil case, it's dark blue and covered in Sharpie doodles, then grabs the rest of his books, piling them on top of the one he had used to startle you. 

“I thought you were done with studying” you deadpan. 

He hums a laugh, “you can never be done with studying" he quips sarcastically. 

You let out a breath of frustration as he continued digging through his bag. 

“Look Parker I really need to focus-”

“Oh I wanted to give you this,” he mumbles, cutting you off and pulling a sheet of paper from the backpack, sliding it across the desk to you. 

You look down at the page, it's a photocopied version of his messy, yet readable notes. 

“Your bio notes…?” you look up at him and meet his eyes, “why?” your brows furrow further though this time fueled by confusion. 

He hums, opening his book, “felt like being nice” he adds and you let out a humoured scoff. 

“And you just somehow knew…” you correct yourself with a clearing of your throat, “Well, thought I needed these” You watch him, a brow raised in confusion, 

“I can take them back,” he grins, meeting your eyes and reaching across to snatch them from your hands. You pull away, further furrowing your brow and begin reading the notes. 

“What did you do to them,” you ask, sceptically as you skim the page. His work seems genuine, in fact, the notes are far more well-versed than the half-assed sheet of scribbles you’ve been working on and you swallow the insecure feeling you’ve grown used to. 

He laughs, his smile growing as his hands pull back and raise defensively with a soft ‘nothing’. 

You spare him a cautious eye with a shake of your head, continuing to look through the notes. 

“Hey… look at this way,” his face turns earnest as he leans in to speak, you humour him, placing the paper down and giving him your attention. 

“Now you won’t fail” he nods, the mask of seriousness slipping away as he breaks into a stupid grin.

‘Asshole’ you mumble to yourself softly, a gentle smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and you shake your head. 

He watches you carefully, satisfied with the faint smile that curls on your lips. 

“Seriously though, how’d you know I’d be here?” your focus turns back to the notes with the raise of an eyebrow and the linger of a smile. 

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair, “remember that one time in English,” he says in an attempt to jog your memory, his hand finds the textbook in front of him and he fidgets with the pages, “we were fighting about the best libraries,” you’re sure he’s right because the two of you fight about everything, “you said this one was your favourite, specifically this area because you like to look into the garden” 

He’s right, you like to look out of the giant glass windows and watch people sitting in the library's garden, studying with their friends.

“And what, you wrote all that down in your journal?” you joke, watching as he laughs.

He hums nodding his head with a, ‘Yeah, wrote it all down in my personal diary’.

“No um,” he breathes a laugh, “I just have a good memory,” his eyes flick to meet yours, you exhale a sceptical hum, nodding your head in response. 

“How else do you think I beat you in all those exams,” he smirks watching the grin tug at your lips,

“What, like the one on friday?” you mock.

“No like the one tomorrow” he retorts. 

This pulls a laugh from your lips, you roll your eyes with a shake of your head. 

You hum as the laughter dies down, “you might’ve got me there” you say softly, letting up the teasing and your eyes leave his, suddenly very interested in your textbook. Unconsciously your lip slips between your teeth and Peter notices. 

“Do you… want help studying?” he offers awkwardly, it’s unusual for him and your eyes flick up, sending a sceptical look.  

You’re met with a genuine smile. 

You beckon him towards you with furrowed brows, he leans forward, accepting your hand against his forehead, with a roll of his eyes and a sweet laugh.

“No fever,” you hum, “but you’re just not acting like yourself,” you mumble in sarcastic dismay and your hand pulls from his forehead, sitting back in your chair, you turn your focus back to your textbook. 

"You're a regular comedian," he remarks dryly, a humoured smile never leaves his lips.

Your eyes keep on the page in front of you, “so I’ve been told” your voice drips with irony, pulling a laugh from Peter. 

“So…” his words fade though you know what he’s asking, he bites the inside of his cheek watching you. 

Your eyes drift to your watch before meeting his, they’re already staring at you. 

“I truly, truly would love to you” you deadpan with a nod, “I would, but luckily for me, I have work in about ten minutes and my boss will wring my neck if I’m late” You give a wry smile, collecting your things. 

A stupid grin stays curled on his lips, ‘yeah yeah’ he shoos you off with a roll of his eyes.

You’re satisfied with his reaction and push your chair into the desk. 

“Thanks for the notes!” you tease, waving them in his direction as you head for the door. 

______________________________________________________________

As dusk settles outside, the diner is left lit by the dingy light bulbs that hang overhead. Your eyes hurt from their flickering and you blink tightly with a shake of the head in an attempt at dulling the pain. 

Balancing a coffee cup in each hand and a slice of hot apple pie on your left wrist, you tread cautiously, one foot after another, approaching an older couple on the far right of the diner. The heat from the porcelain kisses the tips of your fingers, both cups filled to the brim with boiling hot coffee, your eyes trace the black liquid, watching as it sways with each step you take.

“Here you are,” you give a sweet smile to the older couple, placing their coffees down and hiding a wince as your raw fingers place the hot plate of apple pie between the two of them. The wife thanks you sweetly with a smile and you ask if there's anything else you can help them with, to which they politely decline. 

You offer a smile before turning on your heels and heading back to the kitchen, pushing open the swinging doors softly and slipping inside. You quite narrowly dodge a kitchen hand who’s balancing a towering stack of porcelain dinner plates, frantically apologising, you offer to help out but she swiftly brushes you off, rushing in another direction before you can finish your sentence. 

You slip to a quiet corner of the kitchen, avoiding the preparation benches and bury your face in your hands for just a moment, an exhale of frustration slips from your lips.   

“Hello!” Your manager's voice is grating as he calls your name, your hands drop from your face and you quickly turn to meet him, instead you’re met with clicking fingers inches away from you eyes, you recoil at his obnoxiousness with a flinch. “You’ve still got twenty minutes on the clock kid, get out there” his voice is raised over the sounds of the kitchen, he points to the kitchen doors and you send him a sheepish smile, ‘sorry’ rolls off your tongue but you’re not sure he hears, let alone cares for your apologies. Your expression drops to that of disgust as he passes by, heading to grab something from the freezers, and you throw the finger in his direction. 

You push through heavy kitchen doors, and you notice the back of a man's head sitting in your section of the diner. Rushing to the booth, your eyes flick to your watch quickly and you make a mental note that you have around fifteen minutes left. 

Your hand feels around your apron for your small notebook and pen and your eyes flick down to assist, “Hello welcome to Uncle Bills,” you find it and flip it open giving the man your name, “I’ll be your server today,” you plaster the usual cheesy smile on your face and look up to meet the eyes of the man you’re serving. 

“What a surprise seeing you here” 

“Parker…” your eyes narrow and you try to find the words, “Do you not have a job or like, anyone else to bug?” you genuinely wonder how it’s possible to see someone that you actively avoid twice in a day. 

“That's not a very nice way to talk to customers” he quips, tilting his head to the side.

“Seriously are you stalking me or something,” 

“What you didn’t know about that journal of mine?” he grins up at you, “the one with all that info about your favourite libraries” he laughs with a shrug, and mumbles a ‘thought you knew’.

You roll your eyes with a cross of your arms and turn to clean the table of an old trucker who had finished his burger.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he laughs out, “I promise. I didn’t know you worked here,” his face is sincere though that stupid grin remains.

You raise your brows at him and a beat passes. 

“I just want a coffee,” he smiles sweetly. 

“Okay” you exhale a sigh, “how do you like it” 

“Just black,” he answers, “so um… when do you get off?”. 

“In like ten minutes thank god, why?” you question writing in your notepad.

“Sugar?” you ask before he can answer and he shakes his head with a, ‘no thanks’

“Well, I just thought, maybe I could walk you home”, he offers with a hint of uncertainty

“What, is my address missing from your journal?” you joke, putting your notepad back into your apron. 

“You’re just on fire today aren’t you” he teases. 

“Aren’t I always,” you give him a sarcastic grin. 

Before turning to get his coffee you pause a moment, meeting his eyes with a genuine smile, “Look Parker… thank you, for the offer but I’m… I’m just exhausted, maybe another time”, you nod and your teeth catch your lip picking at the skin as he responds. 

He nods softly, “Yeah, for sure”. 

You offer a pressed smile before turning to brew his coffee

You return just a moment later, lowering the near overflowing cup ever so slowly ensuring none of it spills. 

“There you go,” you lean in slightly, “I found you our biggest mug, absolutely free of charge” you whisper with a wink, sending a sweet smile.

“My hero” he murmurs sarcastically, matching your low tone with a grin. 

You let out a hum and stand up straight brushing your hands down your apron, “well I’m just about off” You smile and there's an awkward beat of silence.

“Hey you keep those notes I gave you safe, I heard they’re worth a lot” he teases, looking up at you. 

“Hmm, I don't recall any important notes, I did throw away a sheet of paper with unreadable chicken scratch on it though” 

He offers an eye-roll laced with amusement, wishing you a good night. 

You return the sentiment with a sweet grin. 

______________________________________________________________

Awkwardly, your hands fumble behind your back, untying your firmly tied apron. You grab your tips from the pocket and stuff them in your jean pocket. With care, you fold the apron neatly and slide it into the pigeon-hole designated with your name, swapping it with your jacket which you slip on. 

The image of Peter's big brown eyes flash in your mind and you feel the all-too-familiar pang of guilt rising in your throat. Your teeth snag your lips as you frown slightly and for a moment you think you should have accepted his offer to walk you home. 

You swing your backpack over your shoulder, taking a second to think, and release it’s likely you’ll catch him on your way out, you swallow your nerves and decide you’ll take him up on his offer. 

You let your manager know you’re leaving and push through the kitchen swinging doors, expecting to see Peter still sitting at the booth. 

Instead, you’re met with a half-drunken cup of coffee and a five-dollar tip. Your lips curl into a smile and you roll your eyes, ‘always the gentlemen’ you think to yourself as you pocket the money. 

______________________________________________________________

The soles of your shoes tap against the floor of the subway, and you hum along to your music, resting the back of your head against the cool of the glass. The subway is quiet at this time of night having just missed rush hour and you’re more than grateful for the peace. The voice of the announcement system warns you that your step is the next, you hear it quietly through your music, opening your resting eyes. 

You step onto the quiet platform, thankful for the more peaceful trip this time around. You walk slowly through quiet backstreets taking your time and mindlessly listening to your music, the volume is gentle, wary of the softly throbbing headache that you’ve acquired from the day. You hum along softly, and your teeth sink into your lip, occupying themselves. 

“I thought we weren’t doing that anymore” a familiar voice calls out and a flash of red drops down next to you. 

You jump slightly, turning to look at the man. “And I thought we weren’t scaring young women at night” You let out a breath attempting to control your heart rate, he laughs with an apology and follows your footsteps, walking by your side. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again?” you utter, though it comes out as a question. 

He hums a laugh, “I just couldn’t stay away” he teases sarcastically. 

“Seems to be the way a lot of people feel” you mumble with a grin. 

“Elaborate”

“I’m fairly sure I have a highly dedicated stalker” you nod playfully. 

He chuckles, “And what makes you think that”. 

“You know that kid I was talking about, Peter?” you ask and Spiderman nods along, “well, he first found me at my favourite library and then walked into my job four hours later to order a coffee”. 

“Sounds like we have a high-profile case on our hands,” he jokes and it pulls a small laugh from your lips with an eye roll. 

“You know you sound a lot like him” you say matter-of-factly. 

“You don’t know what I sound like” he retorts rather quickly. 

“No I mean,” you think for a moment, “you’re both annoyingly witty”. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment” he jokes with a satisfied nod. 

“How does the um,” you raise your hand to your lips, “the voice thing, how does it work” you question with a small tilt of your head. 

“It’s just a vocal converter” he nods. 

“Like Ghostface in Scream,” you add and he nods. 

“And the um,” your hand hovers over your wrist, and you contort your hand into his signature pose. 

“Oh, here look” he stops the both of you and flips his wrist, a white web shoots onto the brick wall behind you. 

“Try it,” he mumbles, your hand hovers over his wrist and he gives you a soft nod, encouraging you to press down on the sensor. You press the heel of his hand and a web shoots past you, sticking to the wall in one swift motion. Your mouth forms an ‘O’ as you mumble a soft, ‘woah’,

Spiderman watches you, a soft smile sits behind his mask. “So do you, like, have any actual powers?” you ask with a furrowed brow, “besides being a genius” you add and the irony draws a small laugh from the boy. 

He hums a soft ‘hmh’, he shakes the web from the shooter and walks past you. You stand with crossed arms and watch as he climbs the walls, his hands and feet sticking to the vertical bricks. “So you can do that without the suit?” you call up at him and he gives a soft nod, releasing the wall and gracefully falling from the height. 

“What else can you do?” you ask in awe, you had never particularly been a fan of Spiderman, you’d watched the news clips, and defended him when your mum questioned if his presence was ethical, though you’d never questioned, nor ever thought of, the logistics of his ‘powers’. 

He lets out a laugh, “I have um, enhanced strength, agility, stamina, all that” he nods, “Oh and um, a tingle?” it comes out as a question and he tilts his head slightly.

“I do not want to hear about your tingle dude” you laugh with a disgusted face, he elbows you gently, with a, ‘Not like that you weirdo’. “No it’s like, I can tell when there’s danger,” he attempts to explain, “like, I know to duck before something hits my head”. 

You shove your hand in your pocket, pulling out a scrunched-up receipt and throw it towards his head. His hand raises swiftly, catching the ball of paper, “really?” he questions before unravelling it, with a serious face and a hum he reads, “Hemorrhoid cream?”. 

Your brows furrow and you quickly grab the receipt to see a grocery list of, ‘gum, Coke Zero and a KitKat’, you roll your eyes with a ‘ha ha, very funny’. 

“So,” he looks down at you and the two of you make eye contact, “tell me about your day,” he mumbles as the two of you continue your stroll, you accept his offer once again. 

“It was pretty boring… I studied for like god knows how long and got nowhere,” you grumble and Spiderman listens attentively. “Then, just as I was on a roll Parker interrupted me… but he gave me his notes so,” you give a pressed smile, “never will I ever tell him how much it helped me out but he is a lifesaver.” you nod. 

Spiderman's lips curl into a wide grin behind the mask and he lets out a hum in response, ” Anyway my boss is an asshole,” you add with a, ‘but what's new’.

“What’d he do today?” he questions and watches as your eyes roll at the thought of your manager. He’s so intensely focused on you and for the first time since knowing you he’s able to take in the small imperfections on your face, he observes the slope of your nose and the way your mouth moves as you speak, and suddenly he’s all the more grateful for the guise of his mask then he’s ever been before. 

“He’s just an asshole you know?” you ramble, eyes locked on the floor in front of you as your brain trails back to your manager's fingers in your face. “I mean he clicked in my face as if I’m like some dog,” you let out an angry huff, “seriously, get your dirty ass fingernails out of my face dude, and then he yelled in my face!” you take in a deep breath before releasing it with the rest of your frustration. 

Spiderman frowns slightly behind the mask with a shake of his head, “you want me to web him up?” he attempts and grins as your lips curl into a smile. “That would be great actually,” you giggle. 

There's a beat of silence before you start up again, “and, I don't know, I feel guilty, I think Peter keeps trying to hangout with me, I mean I refused him like twice today and I don't know…” you trail off for a moment, “It’s not like I hate him, I mean he’s annoying, but so am I, and… well I actually really like talking to him, I just,” you look up at Spiderman, “I’m not blabbing on too much?”. 

His masked face shakes slightly with a soft laugh and a, ‘You’re good.’

“I just don’t think I’m that great at being friends with people,” you exhale a sigh. 

“Well we’re friends” he adds and the Peter behind the mask feels a pang of guilt.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumble. 

“What you don’t think we’re friends” he quips, nudging you softly and you hum a laugh. 

“Well this is our second time talking…” you trail off and look up at him, sending a stupid grin. 

“That's okay… we just… move fast,” he mumbles and you hum in agreement with a nod, ‘really fast,’ you add and he laughs with an, ‘Exactly’.

“No… you’re right,” and you send him a genuine smile, “Thanks Spidey, for listening”. 

“Spidey huh?” he asks teasingly. “Well I’m not going to say Spiderman every time we talk” you ask with a grin, “I bet you’re not even a man,” you add teasingly. 

“What makes you say that,” he asks defensively. 

“Well first of all that was a little defensive,” you giggle, “and I don’t know,” you shrug, “I’m a teenager, I go to school with teenagers, I know how they act,” you mumble matter-of-factly with a grin. 

“Also I would be a little worried if a forty-year-old man actively sought out walking me home at night,” you add 

“Proud of your detective work are you?” he teases and you give a cocky nod. 

“Well I can’t actually tell you my age-”, he begins,

“Oh come on,” you grin, cutting him off. 

“Okay, you wanna know?” he asks, his tone is earnest and you respond with an eager nod. He pauses and leans in slightly, and you follow his action,

“I’m actually eighty,” he says and a giggle slips from his lips. You grin with an eye roll and hit his arm playfully, he lets out a joking, ‘ow’.

“I think you should have a little more respect for senior citizens,” he laughs following as you continue your route home,

“I have plenty of respect for real senior citizens,” you mumble. 

As the two of you reach your apartment block you let out a huff of pain. “I’m going to rip my feet off,” you groan, wiggling your toes in your shoe. 

“Not so sure that will do any good,” he quips and you grin. 

“What kind of apartment building doesn’t hand an elevator,” you moan, 

“Why don’t I swing you to your fire escape,” he offers sweetly, and you send him a smile, “really?” you ask. 

He hums a, ‘mhm’, and your smile curls wider, before dropping ever so slightly, “my mum… she’ll wonder why I didn't come through the front door,” and Spidey gives a shrug. 

“Maybe she just didn’t notice,” he offers, winking behind the mask before he remembers that you can’t see his face. “Yeah… why not,” you shrug dismissively with a smile. 

He wraps a tight arm around your waist, ‘which is yours?’ he asks and you point to the one lit up with a string of fairy lights with a sheepish smile, he lets out a small laugh finding your attempt at decoration sweet. 

“You’re going to need to hold onto me okay,” he mumbles and you swallow a pang of nerves with a nod of your head before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. 

He shoots a web, swinging you both upwards and you let out a small yelp at the feeling of the floor disappearing beneath your shoes. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes slam shut at the strange feeling of freefalling for short bursts of moments. 

You feel his chuckle rise with a chuckle as you cling to him tightly. Wind rushes past your ears and through your hair before you feel your feet land on the slightly shaky fire escape, it's over before it begins and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Holy shit that is terrifying,” you mumble with big eyes, a laugh escapes your lips and you meet his gaze. 

“Next time you should try opening your eyes,” he teases and you mumble a ‘next time?’ with the raise of a brow. He nods with a laugh, “I’ll take you,” he says and his voice is sweet. 

You breathe out an, ‘okay’ with a sure nod of your head. “You should see how beautiful the city is at night,” he mumbles softly and you feel a grin of admiration grow on your face. 

“I’ll look forward to it,” you smile and you wish each other a goodnight before he swings off.

TAGLIST

@chaoticcoffeequeen

[da-proti-toku-grem]

jance + royalty au? 👀

Ohhh I think I'm gonna have fun with this one and it'll probably turn too long so putting this under the cut <3

(Note: I'm too lazy to search which countries still have any sort of monarchy and which ones would fit the most, so I leave it up for imagination. I mean, I know we have one here in Spain so maybe one could be Spanish but idk, whatever agahsbs)

Both Jan and Nace are next in line for their respective monarchies. They've never met each other, but along with the education they received as princes, they had to learn about the rest of the monarchies and regimes in the world, so yeah... they do know at least a bit about each other.

Jan has been out as queer for a few years now, since he was 18. It took him some time to gather the courage to speak to his parents, scared of how they would react to the possibility that the prince - the future king of the country - might fall in love with a man one day, making the possibility of having biological children a little, well, complicated. He still liked girls, but he liked boys too, so the possibility was there.

Still, he talked to them. Thankfully, his parents were very supportive and reassured him that there were many ways they could still have children, and there was always the adoption possibility if other methods didn't work out. "The crown is something that is passed from generation to generation, but it is not our blood that makes us kings or queens. We will love you and your future children no matter what."

They agreed to wait until he was 18 to make a statement. It was pretty wild, he appeared in the news and every single newspaper, the word obviously spreading all over the word: he was the first ever out and proud (future) monarch. But anyways, the response was mostly supportive.

Nace, for his part, belongs to a much conservative monarchy. The country has progressed a lot, is a lot more open and lgbtq friendly than it used to be. The monarchy - or, well, his parents and the people around them - on the other hand...

He has known he's gay since he was little, after realizing that him looking at men that way was not admiration or him wanting to be like them, but more like him having a crush on them.

He didn't tell anyone tho, he grew up hearing everyone around him talking bad about people like that, people like him, so he never said anything about it, he hated himself for being like that. That was until a few years later he confessed everything to his sister one night, crying, expecting her to hate him just as much as he had learned to hate that part of him. Instead, his sister hold him tight and told him that it was okay, that she loved him just the way he was, there was nothing wrong about it and he deserved to be loved for who he was.

With time, he started to learn how to love himself again. It was hard sometimes, he wasn't quite there yet - the thought that his parents wouldn't accept him if he came out a constant reminder of it - but he tried.

Then, it happened. Jan - the gorgeous prince with long, black hair and a slightly mysterious and cool aura, yet with beautiful big brown eyes and a soft smile that might or might not make Nace's stomach tingle every time he sees him on tv - has come out as queer. It's shocking at first, but he can't help but feel... good. He's not alone, there's people like him out there, and they're determined to prove that there's nothing wrong with being queer just because you're part of the Royal Family. And he's also proud of the younger boy, for having the courage to come out to a whole country (and the whole world basically) when he himself can't even talk to his parents.

It's not until a few years later that they meet at an event Nace's family organized, but Nace hasn't stopped thinking about the beautiful prince's speech. Nace surprises even himself by going up to Jan and introducing himself (even if they obviously know who they are but, a prince has to be polite right?). They talk a little and they realize that neither of them really wanted to be there, so they escaped the salon where everyone is gathered and Nace shows him around the castle.

They end up going into Nace's room, both of them laying on his bed side by side, looking at the ceiling, cracking jokes and talking shit about how ridiculously polite and hypocrite everyone in that room was. Nace's heart warms as he realizes that the beautiful, kinda shy guy he's had a little crush on from seeing him on tv is apparently really kind and funny and sweet and even more beautiful in person than he is through the screen somehow, and Nace doesn't know what possessed him in that moment but he ends up talking to Jan about when he came out. He confesses him how much his speech impacted him and how much it has helped him accept himself.

He doesn't say it directly, but it doesn't take a genius to understand, yet Jan ventures a quiet "so, you are..." There's a bit of silence where Jan wonders if he pushed too hard until Nace says "I'm gay". He's never said that to anyone besides his sister and it feels good, liberating and, for the first time since the conversation started, he dares to look at Jan. He finds him already looking at him with a bright smile on his face and a (hopeful?) glimmer in his eyes. The younger man doesn't say anything, but he wraps him up in a hug like no one has ever given him. It makes Nace feel safe and accepted like he's never felt and without realizing he starts sobbing quietly, the sobs turning into full tears streaming down his cheeks and heavy breathing as he tells Jan everything that troubles him, everything about his family not being accepting and Jan holds him through it, caressing his hair and whispering words of affirmation until he fully calms down.

Nace feels embarrassed after that, but Jan quickly reassures him and they end up exchanging numbers.

Sadly, the event doesn't last forever and Jan has to go home not long after, but he leaves with a promise to keep in touch, both of them excited for what seemed to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Nace probably didn't expect it, but they end up texting almost every day. Despite their equally busy schedules, it's nice to come out of a very boring meeting to a bunch of messages from Jan, complaining about his equally boring meetings, talking about stuff that happen throughout his day or sending random memes. He's a bit shy at first, not daring to start conversations, but it's not long until he starts doing the same.

They stay up late at night chatting and sometimes even face timing each other. Nace learns that Jan is very much a night owl, but he's not that used to staying up too late so he sometimes falls asleep in the middle of their call (Jan just finds it incredibly cute and endearing, and if he sometimes spends a few long minutes looking at Nace's peaceful sleeping face before hanging up well... no one needed to know that)

It's been a few month since they first met when Nace has to travel to do some stuff in Jan's country. He swears he's never been more excited to go meet some people and visit some places, but the thought of getting to reunite with Jan is exhilarating. They hug each other so tight and definitely longer than you would hug someone you've only met once before once they meet, but they're both too happy to care about it.

The time Nace spends there passes by way too quickly and he has to go home. It's when he's laying in his own bed that night, his whole body seeming to miss Jan with every atom and his heart aching with the desire to have the other man near, that he realizes (or more like, accepts) that he's in love with Jan.

And he cries. Cries because he's fallen in love with his best friend. Cries because he doesn't want to fuck up this beautiful friendship that they've manage to build besides the distance. Cries because he knows he doesn't stand a chance. Cries because he would never forgive himself for ruining what they have. Cries because he misses him, so fucking much. But how could he not? When Jan has helped him accept and love himself just the way he is, when Jan has showed him he's deserving of love and genuine friendship, when Jan is just so... Jan.

Unbeknownst to him, Jan is having a similar reaction all the way over at home.

Jan blames himself. He knew he had a crush on Nace after that night they met. He thought it would be just a silly crush and it would go away soon, but every day that passed, every text and every late night call, made him fall a little bit more. How was his (not so) silly little crush supposed to go away when Nace was so sweet and nice and kind and cute and beautiful, when his hair was so soft and his dimpled smile was so bright and genuine and his sassy remarks never failed to make Jan smile, when he looked so incredibly adorable and hot when he was wearing his glasses, when his hugs made him feel so safe, when he talked so passionately about the things he liked - god he was such a nerd and fuck Jan was so down bad for him.

So yeah, Jan blames himself. Blames himself because he know this could potentially ruin their friendship. He would never be able to forgive himself if his feelings for his friend were the reason Nace decided to step away from his life, making him lose probably the most precious thing he has ever had.

Of course, none of them say anything about it, they keep in touch just like before, they visit each other as often as their schedules allow them, enjoying being friends. Both of them secretly hoping they could be more, but neither of them daring to risk breaking what they already have.

How long will it take them to get their shit together and realize the feeling is mutual? Will they be able to resist the urge to lean in and kiss the other on one of those rare times they get to spend the day together? Who will take the first step, risking everything they have, holding on to hope that this could turn out well and they could be happy together? How will they overcome all the challenges they will encounter once they are together, like having a long distance relationship or what Nace's parents will have to say about it? How will the world take it when Nace comes out, or if they - two princes and future kings of two different countries - come out as a couple? Well... that's a story for another time.

Leave an AU and a pairing in my ask and I’ll give you the plot of the fic I won’t write for it.

[mixterglacia]

THIS IS THE PART WHERE LOGAN BITCHES ABOUT CARTOONS

WARNING: VIVZIEPOP CRITICAL, STOLITZ CRITICAL

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I don't like this show, and I don't pretend to. Full transparency, I'm meaner in this then any before now. This is also slightly more disjointed than normal because I was directly reacting to the episode it's self.

"I swore I wouldn't dwell on the divorce." MAYBE WE SHOULDN'T BE RUSHING THESE THINGS BECAUSE IT FEELS LIKE HE'S WAITED TWO DAYS. EVEN IF IT'S BEEN MONTHS IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE IT.

"I'll hear him and not the voice that says I'm not enough" Oh boo hoo bitch. You've seriously done nothing to convince me to feel bad for this stupid fucking asshole. His writing is full of holes and contradictions. It makes him feel like two different people.

"I'll set us free!" Are you quite sure that means what you think it means you stupid fucking ass.

Framed adoption certificate is a nice touch. Very cute.

Blitz is immediately not coming off how they want. I think they're -trying- to imply he has some deeply buried feelings too, but it comes off as "i didn't want this and i still don't want this, why can't it just be normal hookup shit."

"I'll die alone if this goes wrong!!" You have the emotional depth of a teaspoon and are about as interesting as one. Boo fucking hoo. BAD.

NGL this really made their wealth difference hit home. Why the flying fuck is blitz still bordering on abject poverty dude? You should be able to help him advertise send something IDK man, if you really gave a shit, why aren't you trying to actually help him in a genuine way? I'm sure he wouldn't say no if you slipped a hundred bucks or so into the book every so often. I fucking hate it here.

"Would he want me if he was free?" No. Next question. (You've done very little if anything to prove Blitz actually wants strings attached in this.)

"If he's only here as a prisoner what kind of monster does that make me?" Little late to have this realization but I'll take it. Also can we seriously stop downplaying how awful this is for BLITZ to go through? Stolas is severely over represented in Blitz's own fucking show. Why is Blitz so underdeveloped??? Why, dude? The episodes that mainly focus on him are pretty okay, but once Stolas shows up it's all fucking stupid.

If Blitz rejects him (which he should. Look how fucking anxious he is just THINKING about this.) he could lose his entire way of life. No more apartment, probably gonna get Loona taken away. Probably has to resort to prostitution or return to clowning. Stolas just gets to go about his life of luxury.

Why is Blitz's emotional well being such an after thought in this duet? THIS IS NOT STOLAS' SHOW.

"He showed me that I could choose" ...Dude. You have given no weight to swing that line at us. This isn't much of a choice in the grand scheme of things. Stolas and Stella already had the kid. The marriage never had to last. Not from the impression you've given us. He's a toddler deciding he wants chocolate milk instead of regular. We have never been shown he's actually going to lose anything of real value. He's still a prince. He's still got his money. Like are they trying to have him killed, sure but lets be real he's A PRINCE OF HELL. Assassination attempts are like...Tuesday for him.

GOD THIS SONG IS ASS. I will not allow Blitz to be painted as the bad guy here. Fuck Stolas, and fuck the team for trying to make it seem like we should feel bad for him. They both suck. BUT STOLAS IS OBJECTIVELY IN THE WRONG.

Ah yes, The Helluverse special of "let's yeet a stupid ass joke in the middle of plot, completely derailing anything." it has only been a few seconds and it's already going on for too long. Go learn from Bojack or RvB.

...........This cherub bit is throwing your entire lore off. If these idiots are having to do this shit to get by, why are they acting like heaven bound can do whatever they want in Hazbin? If all you meant by that line is the human souls in heaven, you totally screwed up the message there. Your points are murky at best, and you're contradicting yourself at every turn.

...............Are the cherubs mortal now? Like they're flying and glowing but they have to eat???? Huh? I don't think I've ever realized you're showing they eat a lot, but surely you don't actually have to eat as an angel or demon? Surely it's just a choice???? That's genuinely so fucking stupid???? WHY IS THAT EVEN A THING?

WE DON'T NEED FIVE ANTAGONISTS IN A CHARACTER DRIVEN EPISODE YOU FUCKING IDIOT. YOU ARE LITERALLY RUINING YOUR MAIN PUNCH. YOU ARE TAKING AWAY TIME THAT SHOULD BE USED TO ACTUALLY PROVE BLITZ HAS SOME KIND OF FEELINGS FOR STOLAS. BAD.

Honestly the stuff with these five would have been a fun standalone minisode. NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF ONE OF YOUR SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT EPISODES.

Bloody alleyway was a phenomenal cutaway gag. Points.

You really are not making it sound like Blitz likes this at ALL.

"If someone wants to see you less and less? Big red flag." NOT IN A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP, DUH. He's literally a prince of hell in an affair with a """childhood friend""" who was literally PURCHASED for him. The whole thing is a red flag. Not just this!

You are making it exceedingly clear Blitz's just in it because he think's he'll lose the book. I don't give a rats ass about what micro-development you're going for. You take away time needed for showing that Blitz is conflicted on more than one level to do stupid ass tertiary character shit. YOUR CAST IS OVER BLOATED. BAD.

If you wanted me to feel bad for Stolas, maybe don't show that Blitz has an Angel-esque box of sex toys because he thinks he has to impress him. Stolas should have made it very clear AGES ago that he just wants Blitz. If Blitz is this hung up on needing to impress the damned bird, something very VERY wrong is happening in the bedroom.

If you seriously want us to think Blitz has feelings/cares about Stolas (Not that he HAS to), this sex candle shop would have been a perfect place to do it. "Well, he really likes it when I do this-" "This is his favorite colour." "This is his favorite scent." Blitz clearly knows nothing about Stolas, and both of them are to blame. This relationship is never EVER going to work if they know this little about each other when they've been regularly boning for ages. He should know more about what he likes. "What's the mood!?" "I don't know!" Woof. Full stop. This is never going to work in a real scenario. Womp Womp Move on.

HOW DOES BLITZ NOT KNOW HIS MEASUREMENTS. HOW CAN HE NOT JUST HELL-GOOGLE HIS MEASUREMENTS. STOLAS IS A PUBLIC FIGURE IT WOULD BE KNOWN. HE DOESN'T CARE, ERGO WE DON'T CARE. BAD.

Like he seems to MILDLY know what Stolas likes but this should be WAY clearer. Especially if you want us to think Blitz secretly cares too.

Love Fizz's new outfit. Very cute.

Gonna be real, Fizz and Blitz are seriously adorable. Can Ozzie pick him up too and actually show Blitz what being sexually valued is like? Because clearly he pulled it off with Fizz. Because he clearly enjoys sex and it feels like Stolas is just...using him. Not enjoying him. It's gross and SHOULD feel gross, because it FUCKING IS.

This whole bit with the cherubs makes it feel like we aren't supposed to give a damn about the main plot. That it's just a silly background to TERTIARY CHARACTER NONSENSE. BAD.

So far this confrontation is good as far as the pit of dread it opened in my stomach. I still really don't feel bad for Stolas. I feel bad for blitz. Him begging tore my soul out. It's so obvious how bad this power imbalance has gotten. I refuse to entertain these two any longer. This show needs to GROW UP and get over them, leave it here and I will forgive it.

Stolas should have 100% consulted Blitz before OFFICIALLY PUTTING HIM UNDER OZZIE'S JURISDICTION THAT'S NOT OKAY. Even if he leaves him alone, that can absolutely be weaponized.

"Am I not fucking you good enough?" Doesn't come off as him wanting more. Blitz feels like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the love of the gods stop stringing this POORLY WRITTEN. BADLY RETCONNED. PATHETIC ATTEMPT AT A WELL DONE TOXIC RELATIONSHIP ALONG. BAD. MOVE. THE FUCK. ON.

"I care very deeply and have for a long time" You sure as shit never showed it.

To Those in The Back. ONE GRAND GESTURE DOES NOT FIX A TERRIBLE RELATIONSHIP. This is Mr. Peanutbutter with the library thing. This is Not ROMANTIC. This IS EMBARRASSING.

If he really cared, Blitz would not be living in poverty. If he really cared, he'd make an effort to engage beyond sex. IF HE REALLY CARED HE WOULD HAVE DIVORCED HIS WIFE THE PROPER WAY AND NOT TRAUMATIZED HIS FUCKING DAUGHTER OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

Stolas is a godsawful woobified piece of shit that doesn't have the decency to acknowledge he's the problem, and when he does, has the fucking AUDACITY to behave like a pathetic child. This I was wrong speech is DOGSHIT and has no punch to it because more than half of the episode was TERTIARY CHARACTER BULLSHIT.

Blitz has EVERY RIGHT to see this as a joke. I immediately burst out laughing because YEAH. WHEN HAVE YOU GIVEN HIM ANY IMPRESSION YOU CARED BEYOND GETTING YOUR FREAK ON?

"Thank you for being here for a little while." Oh boo fucking hoo. Get over yourself. "It's just about sex" BECAUSE YOU NEVER MADE IT ANYTHING ELSE YOU FUCKING BOZO.

I am immediately cheering Blitz on in his retort. He's fucking earned it. You're not going to make me feel bad by making them show up in the room from their childhood. Blitz is completely in the right here.

If Stolas really thought so highly of him, he'd be putting in more of an effort. Stolas treats Blitz the way he treats Octavia. Like they're dolls from his childhood. If he wanted to do right by them, he would. He is FUCKING ROYALTY. There is NO reason he can't put in more effort for the people he supposedly loves. You don't love them. You love the idea of them. You can't accept that they aren't the idea in your head. This isn't love. It's abuse.

Fuck you. Blitz has NOTHING to apologize for.

It's like Stolas doesn't seem to think he's the problem. No shit, of course Blitz isn't going to react the way you thought he would. Why are you just THROWING HIM OUT RATHER THAN TALKING TO HIM? BECAUSE YOU DON'T WANT TO ACTUALLY WORK FOR YOUR RELATIONSHIPS YOU STUPID ASS OWL. YOU WANT EVERYTHING TO BE HANDED TO YOU ON A PLATE YOU RICH DUMBASS.

Fuck everyone trying to paint Blitz as the bad guy.

FUCK. YOU.

He's just trying to survive! He has a fucking daughter! A found family! EVERYTHING to lose!

Stolas just gets his fucking feelings hurt. He is the architect of his own undoing. Suck my entire ass. This was easily the worst episode bar none.

The tone was ALL OVER the place, and not in an effective way. The plot moved at a halt and go pace and all the fun bits were BOGGED DOWN by the supposed point of the episode! You can't tell me this shit took all that time, unless you were constantly saying "OOOO YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE COOL/FUNNY?" and shooting your production scheduled in the foot!

The rest of the portraiture being covered up is a very nice touch.

I can't believe you've gotten me to defend BLITZO of all people. But here we are. I guess I'm on his team. (He's an abusive dick, but NO ONE deserves this.)

[weministertomonsters]

M Werefox (Harcourt) x F reader - 1

➤ Pairing - M werefox x F reader ➤ Wordcount 1.9k

A lovely reader on Patreon liked Harcourt and asked about a Part 2 for this story and of course I said yes! I had to rewrite Part 1 though, so here it is! Part 2 is coming soon as well.

I don't think I've ever posted this to Tumblr because this story was from my glory days on Wattpad before my book got deleted. (If you’re reading this on Wattpad, maybe you remember it? Idk)

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It's your twelfth birthday and the sun is shining and your friends are due to arrive in an hour for your little party. Suddenly you hear your mother yelling outside.

"Shoo! Out, out!"

You scamper into the backyard to see what the fuss is about and find her chasing the scrawniest werefox kit you've ever seen away from the chicken coop. He's got egg yolk clinging to his chin, an undeniable sign of his theft. His black-tipped ears pin to his head as he deftly dodges the dishcloth your mother is wielding and leaps over the backyard fence, disappearing into the brush.

"I've heard all about him from Pansy down the street. She says she's also missing eggs now and then," your mother says, putting her hands on her hips and blowing her hair out of her eyes.

"But Ma!" You wail, "he's hungry! Did you see how thin he was?"

Your mother pats your head. "He's different from us, darling. Those creatures are half wild. I'm sure there's plenty of things in the forest for him to hunt."

"But he's so small," you reply anxiously. "Not much bigger than me. Maybe he can't catch anything."

"How did he even get in?" Your mother murmurs, checking the latch on the coop, and then tutting in dismay as she sees the side of the coop, where the kit has scratched and chewed through the thin wood planks, making a hole to squeeze through.

"Oh dear. This is going to take a while to fix," your mother sighs and peeks into the coop. "And now I'm a few eggs short for your cake. At least he didn't go after the chickens."

You hardly care about your cake now. "If he comes again, can we keep him?"

Your mother purses her lips together in the way she does when you ask her a question she doesn't know how to answer.

"He might be wild, but he's not an animal," your mother finally replies. "He'll grow just as big as you, and you can't keep him as a pet."

"Why not?" You whine. "He doesn't have a mommy or a daddy, does he? He's all alone."

"You don't know that, darling," your mother says.

"Pleaseee?" You hop from one foot to another and stare up at your mother with pleading eyes.

She smiles, but she doesn't say yes. "My soft-hearted girl," she says and hugs you. "Come, let's see if we can still put together something sweet for your birthday."

You pout for the rest of the week, but she doesn't budge, like any sensible mother. The little werefox has to have a den nearby and you hope the next time you see him, you can follow him to it. The next Saturday your mother is visiting the Pansy down the street with some soup for her sick son. You're alone at home, swinging in the backyard and trying to see how high you can go. Your stomach swoops as the swing brings you down, and just then you see a flash of russet through the corner of your eye.

The werefox boy sits down and pries at the planks on the newly repaired coop, bracing one hindfoot on the wall as he begins to pull. He's stronger than he looks, and you hear the wood beginning to splinter. You leap out of the swing and misjudge your timing, crashing onto your knees in the dirt. The noise startles him and he jumps up.

"Wait!" You clamber to your feet.

He hops over the fence and scurries away, darting glances at you over his shoulder. You grab your half-eaten ham sandwich from the porch and race after him. He's fast and agile, darting into the trees and leaping over fallen branches while you straggle behind, still calling for him to wait for you. You lose sight of him when you're forced to stop and catch your breath. The lettuce has fallen out of the sandwich, but you're pretty sure he wouldn't have wanted it anyway. You walk aimlessly in the direction he went, wondering if you'll be able to find him.

You come across a hole between the thick roots of a tree that looks just about big enough. You kneel and look into the hole. The dirt has been scraped away and smoothed down to make a tunnel.

"Hello?" You call down. "Is this your den?"

There's a rustle, and the werefox boy pops his head out, his eyes alert. You sit back on your haunches and look at him.

"Why are you following me?" He asks, his ears constantly twitching as he listens to the forest.

"You can speak?"

"Duh," he replies.

"I brought you this." You hold out the sandwich, which is crumbly now.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward to sniff your hand. He snatches it from you and scarfs it down, his pupils widening as he tastes the ham.

"Is it good?" You ask.

He nods and eyes your greasy hand. He leans forward and presses his muzzle against your hand, licking the taste of ham away.

You giggle. "You're like a really big puppy!"

He pulls back and disappears into his den.

"Better come inside. It's dangerous out there," he mutters.

You clamber happily in with no regard for your safety. His den is like a secret treehouse, but way cooler. The floor is lined with dry, crunchy leaves and soft downy chicken feathers.

"You might get in trouble for killing people's chickens, you know," you say, crossing your legs and getting comfortable.

There's just about enough room for the two of you.

"I'm not," he says. "I gather the loose feathers when I... You know." He looks ashamed.

"Where are your parents?" You ask. "They should be taking care of you so you don't have to steal."

"I don't know," he says, lying down and curling his tail around his thin body. "I ran away."

"Ran away from your home? Why?"

"It wasn't a home, it was a traveling circus." He stares at the dirt ceiling of his den. "We went to so many different places."

You glimpse a scruffy, dirty collar chafing the fur around his neck.

"Was that from the circus? Why are you still wearing it?"

"I can't work the latch," he says.

"Can I help?"

He squirms and shivers, but tilts his head to let you try. In a few seconds, you've removed it. His eyes brighten and he rubs the fur on his neck.

"Thank you," he says shyly.

You nod. "What was the circus like? Did they poke you with sticks like they do with the lions? To get you to do tricks?"

His shoulders quiver and he makes a barking sound that seems equivalent to a human laugh.

"No, I pickpocketed the crowd. I was small and quick, so nobody really noticed me.

"Where the circus people mean to you? Is that why you left?"

He shakes his head. "They were okay. But we were always in the cities when all I wanted to do was be in the forests and look up at the night sky. I couldn't leave because I had a contract, so I just ran away."

"And now you're here."

He nods, idly scratching the matted fur on his neck where the collar was.

"You can't steal any more eggs," you tell him. "I'll bring you food instead."

"Why would you do that?" His gaze follows you as you crawl over to the entrance of his den.

"Because we're friends," you tell him. "I have to go home now, or else my Ma will wonder where I am."

"Okay."

"You never told me your name. Friends need to know each other's names," you tell him.

"At the circus, everyone called me Harcourt, so I guess that's my name."

"So fancy," you giggle and tell him your name in return. "See you tomorrow!"

You keep your promise, showing up the next day with a whole sandwich this time, and a brush. You show him how to use it and help him pick twigs and clumps of dirt out of his fur. He hates the water, but you convince him to try it. Once he's dry, you brush him until he's fluffy and soft, and the sun dances in his fur. He begins to smile, and you never mind how sharp his teeth are. As time passes you grow apart from your old friends, but Harcourt remains close.

Your mother notices that the eggs are never stolen again. One day as you head out for your daily "walk" she packs some extra food and puts it in your hands.

"How long have you known, Ma?"

"Do you think I'd let my girl leave the house almost every day without making sure you're safe?" She says with a twinkle in her eye.

You wrinkle your nose, trying to picture your mother sneaking after you.

"So you don't mind?" You ask. "Harcourt and I are friends now."

"So his name is Harcourt..." She murmurs. "Just make sure to come home before dark, my child."

That's how you made- and kept- your unlikely friend. You spend most of your free time in the forest with Harcourt, eating sandwiches and drinking cool water from the spring nearby. You taught him how to swim and look for shapes in the clouds and in return, he showed you how to forage for berries and edible mushrooms. You brought some blankets out to his den and on cold days you would curl up together inside his den and you would read to him with the light of a lantern.

He began to put on a little muscle and get taller than you. He was also moodier, and would sometimes growl when he was in an extra bad mood. You got testy yourself, and sometimes you would argue and end up storming back to your house in angry tears. You had always told your mother everything and that didn't change. She listened to you, smiled, and sometimes even shed a tear at your woes.

She never complained about your friendship with Harcourt but as puberty hit she got more cautious, often poking around embarrassing subjects, which embarrassed you to no end. You would tell her it wasn't like that and you were just friends, and then you would run to your room and blush angrily into your pillow, wondering why she even had to bring that up.

Eventually, you had to leave for the capital to further your education. You cried the hardest that day, soaking Harcourt's fur with your tears and promising that you wouldn't forget him. You wrote him letters and asked your mother to read them to him. Your dear mother even wrote back for him now and then. Harcourt's letters were filled with stories about fishing, expanding his den, an incident with a badger, and even working in town to make some money. He had learned to read and promised to learn to write as well.

Half a year later he fulfilled that promise. His handwriting was chicken scratch and hard to read, but you stuck each one to your dorm wall and looked at them often. Your roommate got to hear the whole story from you, and would often tease you and tell you that you were definitely in love. After a while, you stopped denying it.

Finally, you completed your last year and graduated. You could hardly contain your excitement as you packed to go home, looking forward to seeing your mother, breathing in the crisp countryside air, and meeting your good friend again. You headed to the train station and before you knew it, you were on the way home.

[mixelation]

akatsuki but ranked by if you (you, personally, a random tumblr user) could defeat them with a gun. none of them have the slightest idea what a gun is but they can probably sense it's a weapon based on your body language

9. deidara - deidara clocks you have a weapon but also he clocks you are a random non-ninja. if you finesse him right, you can engage him in a stupid argument and then he'll go "YOU THINK THAT WILL WORK ON ME, YOU DUMB FUCK?" and let you shoot him in the face. you do have to work him up juuuust right right though. if you piss him off too much too fast he will blow you up, but if he keeps his cool too long he'll make smarter decisions and just take the gun away from you

8. hidan - hidan will also just let you shoot him in the face. the difference here is hidan will then get back up. you better run fast

7. kisame - kisame is not stupid enough to let you wave around an unknown weapon in front of him. however he IS made of actual human organs so if you ran in shooting maybe you'd get lucky. remember that even if you wound him, if it doesn't take him out immediately, he can still fight you <3

6. sasori - if you can hit sasori in one very specific spot, he dies. however i'm not sure how you're going to accomplish this unless you are some sort of trained sniper. you hit anything else? you miss? you die. also there might be poison gas while all this is happening

5. konan - konan turns into paper. however she also has human organs in there somewhere. idk, maybe if you survived the millions of exploding tags--

4. itachi - itachi once got hit by lightning and then stood back up. so uh. yeah. he will not let you get in close enough for easy aiming and he's already divined what a gun is based on logic that sounds like complete nonsense when spoken aloud. there's a 72% chance you are already in an illusion aiming at your own foot. maybe if you are that highly trained sniper from the sasori scenario you have a chance? but if he doesn't die instantly, you're going in tsukuyomi. sorry

3. pein - pein in an animated corpse. shooting him does not much of anything. the only thing that prevents him from ranking higher is i think on the extremely slim chance you managed to find his real body and get past his collection of animated corpses and konan, nagato wouldn't do much to stop you

2. zetsu - i think zetsu would..... just regenerate? giggle slightly? idk, i don't think a gun would work on him at all. however he might just leave you alone because he doesn't care about you! you wouldn't win, but you might not die!

1.kakuzu - idk man kakuzu is a rage monster made of mysterious tentacles and five human hearts and his skin can turn invulnerable. even if you get lucky and kill one heart, he's ABSOLUTELY going to rip you in two with his bear hands

[crazylittlejester]

for mini fic prompt

“it’s ok” (idk really what to put here) ft leg and wars

everyone thought that the war didn’t affect the captain anymore, that he forgot the way she touched him, put her hands on him, little do they know mans has breakdowns abt it at night in the woods and when I say breakdowns I mean EVONGELION LEVEL BREAKDOWNS

unfortunately for him, leg just so happens to find him crying while the veteran was on watch on night

LMAO I KNOW YOU SENT THIS IN A MONTH AGO ANON, BUT I DID UR PROMPT!!

and I got a Bit carried away with it too, my bad

(all of us are gonna ignore that i wrote and posted this in one sitting because it was supposed to be 300 words and not a full length fic)

(mandarin wars anon im so sorry-)

Summary:

Warriors tries his best not to let the chain see how badly the war and everything that happened still effects them, and his plan of sneaking off to cry in the woods had been working pretty well for a decently long time. But Legend hears him while up on watch, and he’s not just going to leave Warriors to cry alone

[dead-inside-demiboy]

Just some things I wanna let out after reading posts from the newest episodes. Not saying anyone is right or wrong, just giving my own perspective and analysis on some stuff for fun/brainrot reasons :)

I don't think the Darrien statement had anything to do with this one. My main reasoning for it is his is clearly dimension hopping and said effects of that, while this one on the other hand had the malnourishment come from living in her own fear, which is wandering alone in a house until she starved to death. And the additional injuries show that, with Darrien there wasn't any, while with Rachel there was the tissue damage on her feet and the fracture on her ankle.

Sam had a point in laughing about Mr. Bonzo, and not just because of how ridiculous the statement was. I think he was upset. Sam is a former gifted kid that crashed, hard, and clearly has a lot of insecurities when it comes to validation. He is upset he didn't get it from the Magnus Institute as a kid, and then later when his life fell apart. During his time at the OIAR, one of his main goals is to validate the creepy stuff that happened to him at the institute as a kid. You see it both when he goes crawling through the institutes ruins, and when he discusses if the statements are real with Celia. No offense to Alice, but she shuts the man down instantly when he reaches out to her over and over and it is likely not helping Sam with his insecurities at all. Before Gwen walked in the office, Sam had been reaching out, only to have Alice shut him down again (for good reason, but besides the point). He was already sensitive, and then for Gwen to finally, finally start to validate Sam's own experience, only to then say "You know Mr. Bonzo?" Sam likely felt as though she was baiting his insecurities only to take the piss out of him, hence the too loud laughter and the "You absolute asshole Gwen!" sentence. Idk, I think its important to remember that Sam is still human with issues that are capable of harming his relationships.

If a TMA fear has to be put on this statement, it would be the Lonely, none of the other ones fit in this one even a bit. I think what this fanbase forgets a lot of the time is that the fears aren't just the object or the creature, but in what they make their victim feel. For example a drowning statement could be vast, if it makes the person feel small in the large ocean, buried if it makes the victim feel trapped or claustrophobic, or end, if it makes them aware of their inevitable death. The type of fear is what defines the statement. So this statement would be fully lonely aligned, because yes there was talk of spiders, but none mentioned in the house itself. Yes there was rotting wood, but it served as a reminder that if Rachel were to fall or get injured, there would be nobody there to save her. Yes, the house was large, but it just served to show how empty it was. Yes, there were a lot of rooms and doorways and it was a labyrinth, but they didn't make her feel like she was going insane, they made her feel as though she would never get out, never see other people again.

Im surprised I haven't seen any foot fetish joke posts yet