#but it definitely could have turned out worse

[reasonsforhope]

Climate change in 2025: So, what now?

Some real talk for the new year, about where we now stand, and what the next years are going to look like.

(Still ends on a “be hopeful!! or else” kind of note, but definitely gets into some heavy truths about the meaning of recent events.)

--

Obviously, between Trump's reelection at the Los Angeles fires, things are feeling a lot more precarious than they did just a few months ago. I know a lot of people are incredibly stressed. I know I'm certainly stressed.

But this isn't the end. This isn't the beginning of the end, either. We're not doomed.

Don't despair.

Yes, things are about to get harder. Yes, the effects of climate change are now becoming truly apparent.

But here's what you need to hold on to:

We have already cut expected warming in half.

More about that including sources here: (x) I'm not going to go into it again in detail, read the source for that. But it's true. In 2000, when I was a kid, they were predicting 4, 5, 6 degrees of warming, plus a runaway greenhouse effect that would boil the planet.

Now, scientists expect that global temperatures will likely land between 2 and 3 degrees.

Which is incredibly shitty, yes. But it's survivable.

And I have for a lot of reasons (check these masterposts on this) to believe with the confidence of knowing that we're going to get expected warming down even further.

And that's something to celebrate.

I’m not saying that the effects of warming aren’t already bad, or won’t get worse. I’m from California, I currently live in LA. My state’s been on fire for half my life. Natural disasters starting amping up early here (and we’re certainly in the middle of another historic number now). And yeah, it's fucking stressful right now.

But like I said, my state’s been breaking horrible disaster records constantly for the past ten years. I've done this before. And you know what? Natural disasters have been getting more and more survivable for years, largely thanks to faster warnings and better mass communication (x).

Does it suck how many natural disasters there are now? Yeah.

Does it suck how many more still there will be? Yeah.

Do we need to keep working our asses off to beat climate change? Yeah.

Are we going to need to organize and mobilize (both politically and especially community-wise) like never before to see as many people through these times as best as possible? Yeah.

But that doesn't mean we should despair. It absolutely does not mean that we've already lost.

An unknown number of the most optimistic futures were foreclosed when Trump won the US election. That’s painful but a reality.

But for twenty-ish of the past twenty-five years, the science said we weren’t going to survive climate change at all.

For most of my life, we were worried that we had set Earth on a course to become like fucking Venus (which is, on average, well over 800 degrees Farenheit). Even if it didn’t get that bad, we were so worried that global warming might wipe out all life on earth - except maybe the cockroaches.

(Literally, when I was a younger the kids at my church put on a play about that. It was like an adaptation of A Christmas Carol where the future only had talking cockroaches. I grew up so worried about this. (Not the cockroaches thing specifically. Mostly the general concept. Only a little about the cockroaches. Also yes my church was very granola why do you ask.))

But starting a few years ago, studies have shown that there wasn’t going to be a runaway greenhouse effect that could turn us into Venus; that earth is warming, yes, but we don’t seem to be in danger of that.

Between that and the fact that the adoption of renewables globally is too fast to be stopped, and we do have the technology and environmental science knowledge to eventually re-lower global temperatures by getting to net negative carbon emissions (x), and most countries and at least 73% of people in all countries for which there is data (x) actually care very much about the climate, yeah, we have closed the door on the lava planet future.

And yeah, I do think that’s worth celebrating.

That’s a massive fucking victory.

There's still more work to do, and I have every confidence that we're going to do it. I also think that, given the loss of the US election, there’s a really, really strong chance the developing world will be what saves us, and we’ll just be lucky to be along for the ride.

Most people have no idea of the kinds of amazing stories and statistics coming out of the developing world and Indigenous communities. The world is changing for the better on the environment, even as disasters (and the US) are getting worse. Solar power is going to revolutionize the fucking world, because it’s going to grant humanity universal access to electricity, and that’s going to revolutionize the world, especially the developing world (aka the global majority). And most people have no idea at all, much less how much it’s going to change.

So, yeah, natural disasters are going to keep getting worse.

But there’s a long, long long fucking way between “natural disasters are going to keep getting worse” and “the extinction of all of humanity and/or the vast majority of life on earth”

So, in the face of Trump, in the face of everything, I still choose to hope. I still choose to celebrate this as a true and profound accomplishment.

Because for over twenty years, I was afraid I’d never get to.

That difference is absolutely worth celebrating.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

TW: Implied incest, yandere themes

This fucked up thought has haunted me for a bit now and I just need to get it out. I can’t help but think that Damian’s obsession with his twin would go past any form of sibling reunion or anything considered redeeming, downward spiraling into some much more uncharted territory. Maybe it was even something that had been brewing deep within him before. Unnatural feelings bubbling up that he knew were far from ever being considered even remotely okay, feelings he tried to desperately push back down resulting in him projecting his own self-hatred and disgust for himself onto his innocent twin who only ever wanted their brother.

They had once been so close, inseparable, not one without the other. Ever. But now that couldn’t be further from the truth. Damian fucked up. Damian lost a part of himself when he completely turned his back on his beloved sibling. He had never wanted to admit it but he was never truly whole without them. He wasn’t the only one to blame for everything, not by a mile, but he was certainly one who made it worse. He needed to make amends, he needed to make up for so much. But most of all he needed to bring his sibling home once and for all. And he would. It didn’t matter how far gone they were or how broken they’d become, Damian would stop at nothing to have them by his side again. Even if he had to keep them caged up and away from the world, he’d do it. It’s not like this world has done them any good anyway. Then again the same could be said about him and what he’s done to them.

Damian’s more romantic obsession with his sibling would most definitely stem from him over compensating for everything he himself has done to his twin and everything else they’ve been through in general. He’s taking all the love and affection he’s gained from being with Bruce/the Batfamily as well as all the other good influences he’s had come into his life through the years and warping it as he puts it all towards his twin, tenfold. He’s going to make up for everything, he’s going to ensure his sibling feels nothing but loved, cherished and adored from now on. And he’s the only one who can give them that, at least that’s what he believes.

There is also an extreme possessiveness to it all too. This is Damian’s twin after all, if anyone has any right, or rather entitlement, to them it’s him. At least in his mind that’s how it is. They came into this world together, they’ll live in this world together. As one. And no one is going to let anyone take that from him again. He’s the only one who can give Twin!Reader the life they deserved, no one else. If his sibling were to try and pick up the pieces of their fractured and broken self on their own and to make something worthwhile out of their life, trying to finally have something that’s just theirs and theirs alone, Damian wouldn’t allow it. This is something they have to do together. It’s something that can only be achieved with them together. Or that’s what Damian tells himself at least. His sibling doesn’t need anyone else to hold their broken pieces together, not when he’s there. They can hold each other’s broken parts and mend them together. Or they can just stay broken all the same, so long as it’s the two of them together in the end.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

bodyguard!toji was a man who stood out wherever he went.

there were plenty of reasons for this. first of all, he was a genuinely big guy. with a build like that, it wasn’t surprising that heads turned the moment he stepped into any place. he was basically made for the job. the other reason? well, he was just ridiculously handsome.

after the latest scandal, your father had to take control of the family’s image. naturally, the most logical solution was to find a bodyguard who could actually keep you in check. you’d had bodyguards before, but none of them could handle your recklessness and carefree attitude.

but this mysterious man, so much older than you, was honestly a nightmare.

wherever you went, he was there. shopping? he’d be by your side even if you walked around for five hours. heading to a club? he’d show up to snatch your drink out of your hand if you drank too much. you’d tried to escape a few times, but it usually ended with him showing up in front of you by the tenth second, saying, “running away won’t work, ma’am,” and sticking to you like glue again.

in short, there was no escaping this man.

worse yet, he never said a word to you beyond the usual “good morning, ma’am,” “good evening, ma’am,” or “where are you headed, ma’am?” you weren’t in a position to be friends. for one, he was your bodyguard. and he was much, much older than you. the kind of age gap where having anything in common seemed impossible. not that you wanted friendship anyway. all you wanted was to feel like you weren’t completely alone.

“do you have friends, fushiguro?” you asked him as you sat in the car on the way home from meeting up with your friends.

“i can’t disclose any information about my personal life, ma’am,” he replied, short and to the point.

you laughed and teased, “it was just a simple question.”

your bodyguard turned his expressionless, intimidating face toward you. “please focus on deciding what you’ll wear for tonight’s gala, ma’am. your father requested you wear a navy-blue dress.”

“that old man controls everything about my life. what century does he think we’re living in? and why are you telling me this now?” the fact that your father had informed your bodyguard instead of you about what you should wear annoyed you.

“i mentioned it yesterday morning, ma’am.”

shit, did he? you didn’t remember a thing. “you can call me by my name, fushiguro. you’re older than me, after all.”

his face remained unreadable. “noted, ma’am.”

you frowned at his stubbornness. “didn’t you just hear what i said?”

in his usual stern tone, he responded, “i heard you, ma’am.”

“gosh…” you leaned back against the leather seat, looking out the window. “you’re never going to stop calling me ‘ma’am,’ are you, fushiguro?”

“never, ma’am.”

once again, you were reminded that having anything close to a normal conversation with this man was hopeless.

that evening, as you applied your makeup for the gala, your eyes wandered to the navy-blue dress hanging in your dressing room closet. it was just as your father wanted. the velvet, sleeveless gown was elegant and definitely gave off the impression of being “the daughter of one of the most important families in the world.” you actually loved the dress. what you didn’t love was your father dictating even the color of your outfit.

after one last look in the mirror, you headed to your dressing room to get dressed. shrugging off the satin robe, you slipped into the gown that lightly tickled your skin. your hand reached for the zipper at the back, trying to pull it up.

but that’s as far as you got.

no matter how much you tried, the zipper refused to move. it must’ve gotten caught in the fabric. grumbling to yourself about having to take the dress off to fix it, a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. that familiar stern, respectful voice called out.

“ma’am, are you ready?”

you would be. if the zipper would cooperate, you’d definitely be ready.

“uhh, just a second! i’m having a minor fashion emergency.”

“is everything all right, ma’am?” this time, his voice sounded concerned.

“yeah, yeah, i just… my zipper’s stuck, but i’ll handle it. please wait a moment, fushiguro.”

there was a brief silence. while still trying to fix the zipper without taking the dress off, you heard him again. “ma’am, if you wish, i can assist you.”

honestly, help sounded really good right now.

“a little help would be great!” you called out in relief, and the door slowly opened.

toji stepped in, wearing his perfectly tailored black suit. of course, he was always in a suit. come to think of it, you’d never seen him in casual clothes.

his sharp eyes scanned the room before landing on you, standing by the mirror in your dressing area, holding up the gown to keep it from slipping. without wasting a second, he walked over, stepping behind you. his hands hovered over your loose hair, silently asking for permission before gently moving it to the front.

you regretted asking for help immediately because now your heart was racing.

you couldn’t understand why. sure, he was handsome, muscular, and incredibly mature, but you’d never been this flustered around him before.

toji’s large hands quickly fixed the stuck zipper, but he didn’t pull it up right away. you weren’t sure why he hesitated. he should’ve just zipped it and ended this. stealing a glance in the mirror, you saw your handsome bodyguard swallowing hard, as if he was battling some inner turmoil, like he thought he was doing something wrong.

his thick fingers finally gripped the zipper, pulling it up slowly. you dropped your gaze to the floor, feeling every slight touch of his fingers against your skin. the slow movements only made things worse, as if he was deliberately savoring the contact.

this was definitely wrong. you shouldn’t have felt butterflies in your stomach. your heart shouldn’t have raced faster with every light graze of his fingers against your back. in fact, he shouldn’t have been the one helping you at all.

when he finally zipped the dress up to the top, his fingers lingered on the zipper. you kept your eyes down, but you could feel his intense gaze through the mirror.

“you look beautiful, ma’am. your father will be pleased with your choice,” he said in his usual deep, stern tone, though it was softer than usual.

“thank you.” your eyes flickered to the mirror, locking onto his green ones. for the first time, his usually stoic and unreadable eyes seemed to hold something unsaid.

“you’re welcome, ma’am.” his hand moved away from the zipper, but not before his fingers brushed against the bare skin of your arm. his movements were deliberate, as if he wanted to savor the warmth of your skin for just a second longer.

you kept staring at him through the mirror. when his fingers reached your wrist, they paused. his calloused fingertips traced small circles there, and without breaking eye contact, he leaned slightly toward the side of your exposed neck.

“every color you wear suits you, princess, but this one… this one’s the best yet.”

you forgot how to breathe. how to speak. all you could do was stand there, frozen, feeling his calloused fingers brush against your wrist and the weight of his words settle into your chest.

then, just like that, he stepped back, severing all contact. “please put on your shoes. i’ll be waiting downstairs, ma’am.”

even after he left the room, you stood there in front of the mirror, completely still. whatever had just happened, you couldn’t make sense of it. was it the way he touched your skin, or was it the compliment? you didn’t know. all you knew was that you stood there like an idiot, reliving the moment.

but the thing that stuck with you the most? it wasn’t the touch, the compliment, or the lingering gazes.

it was the way he’d called you “princess.”

so many people had called you that before, but hearing it from bodyguard!toji felt entirely different. it was like indulging in something you weren’t supposed to have. a sinful kind of pleasure.

for the first time in your life, in a world where you despised being controlled, you found yourself wishing to be held back by someone.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[asha-mage]

BingLiuShen au where Shen Qingqiu's fevered heteronormativity poisoned brain decides that the best way to avoid dying for the crime of being a heterosexual male in a stallion novel is to pretend not to be heterosexual and thus not a threat to the protagonist's harem. He figures if he can hit that sweet spot where his (supposed! Not real at all!) sexuality is just a quirk of the beloved mentor then the narrative will have no choice but to keep him alive. Airplane might be a hack, but he's exactly the sort of hack who would put in a token gay character, then shunt them off to the background, only to be trotted out again when he's getting flack in the comments for sexist, homophobic, and/or generally shitty writing decisions.

And for Shen Yuan, whose stated life goal is to idle away the hours in luxury and occasionally bask in Binghe's protagonisty coolness (in a very heterosexual way of course!) that would be the perfect out. There's just one problem- how does he demonstrate his (definitely fake!) homosexuality without playing into homophobic tropes and getting himself killed for offending the genre's aggressively het sensibilities?

The answer? Pretend to be pinning away silently in unrequited love for another man. It's perfect! All he has to do is drop a few extremely subtle hints in Binghe's hearing implying having feelings he would never act on for say, Liu Qingge, and he'll be golden. After all, what person attracted to men (which he isn't!) wouldn't fall immediately in love with the Bai Zhan War God? It has the added benefit of proving what a good Token Gay he is by the fact that he saved Liu Qingge's life without any expectations or hopes and without ever even revealing his (supposed!) feelings.

Shen Qingqiu gets about a week of feeling like a genius after putting this plot into motion before Liu Qingge starts showing up at Qing Jing with small gifts and pastries and asking to spar, and well. In between melting down (because how on earth did he put it together from the grand total of three entirely ambiguous hints he dropped!) and trying to stay composed (because even the straightest guy- which he is!- would get flustered by having Liu Qingge smiling at him Like That) he figures the only rational thing to do is just Commit To the Bit, resign himself to one day becoming cultivation partners with Liu Qingge and retiring together into the background of future plot shenanigans. Their are clearly no other possible ways of dealing with this situation, and hey being with Liu Qingge of all people isn't bad. That's a fan favorite character and he's stupidly handsome and brave and kind! Shen Qingqiu could do a lot worse, especially in a world like PIDW. In fact given the alternatives, Shen Qingqiu's could probably consider himself incredibly lucky. Objectively that is. From a purely 'guy trying to survive this dumb novel' point of view. It would be an honor to have Liu Qingge's arms wrapped around him. If he where into men of course.

Meanwhile you have Luo Binghe in the background of every scene the two are in with a forced smile, internally speed running the '*fork in garbage disposal noises*' to 'I just want my Shizun to be happy! I swear!' to 'actually Liu-shishu is really nice I can see what Shizun sees in him' to 'oh no I think I want to be in the Middle Of Whatever That Is' arc.

(And of course, Binghe at the end of the day IS the protagonist, and after much trial and tribulation, is supposed to get exactly what he wants...)

And all the while you have Liu Qingge, utterly oblivious to the mental anguish and gymnastics of his shidi and shizi, who just keeps turning up at Qing Jing, because he really does like Shen Qingqiu and even if that first date was his sister's idea he's found he really does enjoy spending time with Shen Qingqiu, and also Shen Qingqiu's sticky first disciple who despite the crocodile tears is actually clearly pretty strong. He has no idea that Shen Qingqiu is silently picking out drapery for the future house while Luo Binghe tries to rationalize his out of control heartbeat as a completely normal side effect of the sparring match they just fought (Which he only keeps challenging Liu-shishu to make sure he's strong enough to protect Shizun! He swears!).

WIll the three of them ever figure it out and get their act together? Sure. Will they do it before the Conference/Abyss arc upends everything? Absolutely not.

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 29

"do you snore?"

you chuckled, the unanticipated question leaving you speechless. "what?"

"are you a silent sleeper?" jack's chest vibrated with his words but the side of your head kept resting on it. "do you snore? snort? talk in your sleep?"

you turn your head to look at him, chin perched on his sternum and a slight furrow in your brows. "where does this come from?"

he shrugged. "i don't know, i'm just curious." he paused, looking away for a moment. "i feel like you would look really cute sleeping."

"i'm sure you snore really loudly."

jack gasped, gaze falling to you again. "i do not!"

"that's definitely the reaction of someone who sounds like a lion when they snore."

he looked almost offended, and yet he was smiling. "i only snore a little."

"sure."

another couple of silent moments followed until he spoke up again. "you didn't answer my question."

"do you really want the truth?" you asked. he nodded instantly and you placed your hands on his chest, pushing yourself up to sit on him. "you're really sure you can handle it?"

"i'm really sure."

you took a deep breath. "well… i don't actually sleep that well." a sliver of confusion entered his expression. you looked away. "i get a lot of anxiety when i sleep. i get nightmares, i have a hard time falling asleep, and…"

you weren't sure what made you comfortable talking so openly about this all of a sudden. this bravery came out of nowhere, but something about jack made you feel so calm. you trusted him deeply even after such a short amount of time.

one of his hands came up to rest on your bare thigh, thumb drawing circles into your skin. "i'm sorry for asking, i had no idea."

you shook your head, feeling surprisingly emotional. but you tried to force the feelings deep down again, to where you usually keep them, locked away in a box in some dark corner of your soul. you couldn't allow yourself to let him in more.

you blinked a few times to keep the tears back. "it's alright."

"i really hope i'm not overstepping here, but," he pushed himself up to a sitting position too, his hands cradling your hips. "i could be there for you, if you want. when you sleep. i could hold you, help calm you…"

you hummed at the suggestion. "you're really sweet." you took a deep breath, hands landing on his shoulders. "but i don't think it would work."

"why?"

wanting to find a way to occupy half your mind, to not make your brain think too deeply about this and get too emotional, you let your fingers reach up to play with the hair in the back of his neck. "anytime i sleep in a new bed, or in a new room, or with a new person, it gets worse. it's like my body fights back, in some way."

jack nodded, though he didn't quite understand. he hadn't known you for a very long time, but he felt a strong need to protect you, to take care of you. he wanted to shake you and tell you that he could handle it, he could handle you, if only you gave him a chance. but for now, he had to settle for baby steps. "thank you for letting me know." his voice was sweeter than sugar and his hands squeezing your skin warmed your heart. you leaned forward, nuzzling your face into his neck as his arms draped around you, pulling you close.

maybe one day, you thought to yourself.

but what you told jack wasn't the entire truth. there was another reason why you couldn't spend the night with him.

you weren't sure if you could control your heart if you were to feel his skin against yours all night, hear his raspy voice first thing in the morning, and have him make you breakfast like a real boyfriend.

spending the night is something real couples do – and there's just too much in your past that's in the way of allowing you something like that right now.

[algrimthestrong]

Aednan felt that the question was no longer if but when Mal would give in to his wooing. 'Yet' was what Mal had said, a simple little word that gave away the fact that he had basically made up his mind. "I look forward to finding out, then," Aednan replied, a triumphant curve to his mouth. After the many times that Mal had turned him down on the previous day, the fact that he was now accepting his hand without the slightest hesitation was a development that had Aednan beaming from ear to ear as they made their way back to the market.

"Oh, I can go for hours and hours," Aednan promised, winking at Mal over his shoulder as he returned to his place behind the florist's stall. "I would never leave you unsatsified, my sweet." Now that he had a better idea of what was expected of him, he found the task of taking orders, providing advice on which flowers were best for an occasion or suggesting meaningful combinations for loved ones, and taking in coin and giving out change much less daunting than he had at the start of the day, and the afternoon passed in easy camaraderie among the flowers. By the end of the day, Aednan had come to the conclusion that there were worse ways to earn one's living than growing and selling flowers. At least Mal did what he loved, which the prince supposed could not be said for the majority of people. As someone who had almost unlimited time to dedicate to his pursuits, Aednan felt he had more than pulled his weight at Mal's stall today and had every right to bask in the sense of accomplishment he felt after having persisted throughout an entire day of commoner's work. A reward was definitely in order.

"Was that all for today, are we finished?" The elf's voice was hopeful as he turned towards Mal after the last customer had been served. He held out the florist's earnings of the day to him, neatly stacked inside the small wooden chest. "Can we go to the tavern now?"

The prince beamed at him so brightly that Mal almost felt a pang of guilt for being so contrary since meeting him, supposing it was rather sweet just how ecstatic he seemed about the mere prospect of the two of them falling into bed together. It wasn’t like any of his mortal bedfellows had ever been inclined to wax poetic about what an honour it was — Aednan was rather different to what he was used to in that regard, unabashedly in touch with his more sensual side, celebratory of sex and intimacy rather than shying away from it. It was more than a little bit refreshing in truth, and he imagined the way of things in Alfheim probably wasn’t that much different to the courts; then again, elves and fae-folk didn’t exactly have anything to be self-conscious about.

Though Mal knew well enough when he was being goaded, there was something about the smirk that unfurled itself across Aednan’s lips that had him debating whether to kiss him or shove him, the florist huffing out a soft breath of amusement as the elf lingered in his lap for as long as he possibly could, even going as far as to delicately adjust the chain around his neck. “Are we?” He observed, lips curling. “Last I checked you hadn’t gotten me into bed yet, so how could you possibly know?” Mal certainly knew how to give as good as he got where such bedroom talk was concerned, able to tease and provoke with the best of them; it was going to be fun to see how the two of them played off one another once the elf succeeded — or once he succumbed.

Not quite able to mask his amusement as Aednan made a show of folding up his handkerchief and tucking it away into his pocket, Mal smiled to himself as he settled his hand in his, supposing there was no point in playing quite so hard to get when there was every chance someone had witnessed their incessant flirting and snogging on the fountain. It was a short but pleasant stroll back to his market stall, the florist only letting his grip slacken once they were stood behind it once more, rolling up his sleeves ready to resume his work.

“Think you can keep up for the next few hours, your highness?”

[dirtytransmasc]

I find it deeply depressing that every adult in Spider's life had children, yet he was never anyone's priority. every adult he could and most likely attempted to match in to. the adults he remembered as the closest things he had to parents since birth (Jake and Norm, even if they weren't acting as his parents, because Spider, genuinely, would not know better). down to his actual foster family (the McCoskers). essentially went out of their way to de-prioritize him.

like I'm not faulting them for having kids, for having a family. but Spider was their first priority. he didn't need to be adopted by any of them, per say, but he was their responsibility. he was their orphan, Jake especially, considering he was the chief of his people, but Norm as well, seeing as he's a prominent figure head of the clan/Hellsgate.

the McCoskers took him in, but over the years, as they had their own children, he was more and more neglected. he was now no longer his actually appointed guardians priority. and that only gets worse and worse as he ages until they become outright abusive (Nash does anyway, cause thats what I'm gonna call violently kidnapping his, throwing him in a room and locking him there, and trying to kill all of them, him included, when they run away. as abuse. and I'll get back to the whole "you have to turn yourself in to the RDA" x2 speech from Jake in a second). they also didn't really accept his culture. with their resentment towards the Na'vi brewing, Spider most definitely faced some heat for being more of the forest than of humans, in terms of culture.

3 times over, Spider came first and was put last. put last by parents who know damn well how much love, time, care, and attention a child needs. who should be able to see when a kid is being neglected. who dialed to advocate and protect him from neglect (instead of calling him a stray).

he was a child and they were his advocates. all three parties failed in their duty as advocates, to protect Spider. to ensure he always had a loving home that made him their priority. that fulfilled all his needs, not just the physical ones. but all put their own families first, and abandoned Spider to the scraps of their love, time, and affection.

imagine being Spider, an orphan who can't even mention his birth parents and is always treated like he is the physical rebirth of his father's sins by half the people around him. every adult in your life has kids and seems like they're such a good parent. you watch their kids being loved and tended to and having a steady home. they receive love and affection constantly. but your fosters pay less and less attention to you as they have babies. and now your a stray to the man you look up to so much. and the man who probably taught you how to put an exopack on has less and less time for you. no one has time for you. you're no one's child. no one's priority. just a stray. a nuisance. and you don't truly belong anywhere.

no one was putting him first. children need to be someone's priority. psychology. they need it.

and then the RDA returns. the McCoskers leave, Spider is expected to leave everything he has ever known, to join the very people he hates and has been trying so hard since he could understand what it meant, to prove that he wasn't like them. Jake, the man he once looked up to, was telling him to leave. sending him away. stripping him of the little amount of family he could somewhatly claim, that being his siblings.

once again, Jake is his chief, should be looking out for him. not even as a father, per say, but as his duty to Spider as his chief. a chief should never be sending away his most vulnerable ward, a child he should consider his own (as all of his clans children should be one with his own children), to the opposing enemy force.

this happens again when they're running away, Jake tells him ever more directly to hide in the forest alone until the RDA stops shooting at everything that moves and then turn himself in so he can his own children could run. once again, putting him last, instead of protecting all of them.

then for a year, Spider has no family. no one. the McCoskers are gone and no one has stepped up to bat for him. he's 15/16 and alone. his the big sibling to the Sully's. those kids are all he has, but they aren't really looking out for him. he's looking out for them. cause he's the oldest. that's just how it is. he is one with the clan. lives with them. does chores. watches out for his siblings, the whole nine. but Jake isn't doing his duty of watching out for his ward. he is once again giving and giving and giving, and not receiving.

and then he is taken, he is taken, and while Jake may not have had the means to go back for Spider, or been able to take the risk of going back for him, he abandons him without a thought for his safety, and puts his children first. it's the language and attitude be poses towards the situation that is wild to me. he has every right to be worried about his children, but he could not spare Spider an ounce of concern, even knowing the danger he was in, and is more concerned about him spilling details then anything else. Spider is, once again, not his first, second, or even third priority. he is a means to an end. a necessary loss.

people only care about Spider when there's nothing else they can put before him.

[antinousletmehit]

HeyyyHow are you doing?

I totally haven’t been stalking you account for any new fanfics. NOPE

But the whole idea with antinous having a sister actually gave me inspiration for my epic au (oc or reader idk still thinking about it) and I have been thinking….

What if- and hear me out

After reader realised how weak? (Well certainly no as strong as her brother) she is, she started to learn on her own (this is before both of them going to the palace)

So she started copying his stance from the ring so she can fight, practiced of her own without her brother knowing somehow (maybe he left her alone because antinous doesn’t learn from his mistakes).

So during one of these endeavours perhaps Pandora got hurt? And didn’t know how to treat it properly? Or just enough so it wouldn’t kill her then went fo sleep all the while antinous not knowing. And maybe in the morning he saw she was a bit feverish and red as well as wheezing a bit then when he asks her why she didn’t tell him and then reader’s reply is like “I didn’t want to be a bother since I caused us a lot of trouble in the past” (as shown in their past with her stealing attempt and what not)

idk I love angst/hurt/comfort and what not (mostly angst)- idk if this is considered as a ramble or a request I just wanted someone to ramble to

(Sorry if this is confusing English is not my first language and I apologise for any spelling mistakes )

Have a lovely day, dear! 🌹

Hiii!! Dw your English was perfectly fine. Also it can be both Oc and reader, Aphrodites gamble used to be just my ocs backstory but then I wanted to turn it into a x reader that’s why sometimes you’ll see the name “pandora” in some fics.

AHHHH I LOVE THIS IDEAAA. Antinous is a jerk so he’d definitely not notice his sister getting hurt. The ring is supposed to be the reason as to why antinous ended up being shitty, and we can see in Aphrodites gamble he’s very protective of her due to the fact he feels bad about everything that happened before the palace life.

——

Blood welled from the cut, but she bit her lip and forced herself to her feet. “It’s just a scratch,” she muttered, refusing to cry. “Antinous doesn’t cry when he gets hurt.” Still, the ache in her arm throbbed, and by the time she made her way back to the small shack where she and her brother were staying, she was exhausted, chilled to the bone, and in pain. Antinous was already asleep, his arm draped over his face as he snored softly. She slid under her thin blanket, clutching her injured arm to her chest. “He doesn’t need to know,” she murmured to herself as her eyelids grew heavy. “It’s nothing.”

By morning, her body was burning.

Antinous woke to the sound of her faint groans, his brows furrowing as he rolled over to check on her. “Sister?” he called, shaking her shoulder gently. She stirred, her face flushed and covered in sweat. “I’m fine,” she croaked, though her voice was weak and shaky. Antinous narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. “You don’t look fine.”

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, trying to sit up, but the effort made her wince. That’s when he noticed it—the makeshift bandage wrapped awkwardly around her arm, stained with dried blood. Without a word, he grabbed her arm and unwrapped it, revealing the inflamed, swollen gash beneath.

“Y/N!” he barked, his voice a mix of anger and fear. “What the hell happened?”

She flinched at his tone, tears springing to her eyes. “I—I was just trying to train. Like you. I didn’t want to bother you…”

“You didn’t want to bother me?” Antinous repeated incredulously. “You’ve got a festering wound, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

“It wasn’t that bad!” She argued weakly, though her voice wavered. “I thought I could handle it.” Antinous ran a hand through his hair, pacing the tiny room. “Handle it? you could’ve died! Do you even understand that? What if it got worse? What if I didn’t wake up in time?”

Tears streamed down her face now. “I just wanted to be strong like you! I didn’t want you to think I’m useless!”

Antinous froze, her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He turned back to her, kneeling at her side. “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion, “you’re not useless. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“But you’re always protecting me,” she whispered. “I wanted to protect myself… and you.”

Antinous sighed, his anger melting into guilt as he gently cupped her feverish face. “You don’t have to protect me, Pandora. That’s my job. You’re my little sister. You’re supposed to let me take care of you.”

She sniffled, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his fingers brushing her damp hair away from her face. “Don’t apologize. Just… don’t hide stuff like this from me again, alright? You’re all I’ve got, y/n. I can’t lose you.”

—-

Yea that’s the Drabble for today gang

[pamwritessometimes]

The Great Invasion: Chapter 2

Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: In a world turned upside down, where monsters hunt and hunters are the prey, Y/N must choose: follow the new rules to stay alive or join a rogue band of hunters determined to reclaim power and change the game for good.

General warnings: dark themes, gore, kind of apocalyptic vibes, language.

Chapter warnings: slight sexual innuendos, depression, ridiculous ghost talk, having dark flashbacks

Theme song of the chapter: Don't Ask Me No Questions by Lynyrd Skynyrd

Set after season 15.

Somewhat canon-divergent.

Catch up on Chapter 1 here

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: I Just Want A Little Peace Of Mind

This was… not as nice as the Mandarin Oriental. In fact, everything felt outdated and dusty, and the black satin pajama set you were kidnapped in didn’t help you feel any better — it just reminded you of the rapid downhill ride your life was taking. It was something you thought wasn’t even possible:

Everything to get worse.

The room that Castiel guy led you to was smaller than the bathroom of your last suite. While you were used to these kinds of digs back when you were a hunter, being the legendary champion of the First and Second Hunter Games had spoiled you with the perks of luxury. 

And not to mention that with that, you got another room that wasn’t quite yours.

Before you slammed the door in his face, Castiel mentioned that this room was one of the last available in the bunker. Apparently, they’d tried to clean it out, but some things from the previous owner stuck around thanks to the lack of storage space elsewhere.

A bunker. You were stuck in a goddamn bunker.

What a twist! Not only were you trapped in a completely unfamiliar place with strange people and the ex-Queen of Hell, but now you were a hunted target. Barbas wasn’t the type to let things slide.

It had been a couple of days now since you arrived, you assumed. You could hear chatter and occasional movements from other parts of the building, which you figured must be the other hunters Rowena had mentioned.

But somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the sturdy walls of your room. You didn’t want to face anyone out there, knowing they’d remind you of how you ended up here in the first place, something you never even wanted.

After a day or two of letting your anger fester, you decided enough was enough. Truth be told, boredom was starting to take over. The room didn’t offer much in the way of entertainment. You could work out — a habit that seemed to stick with you even after your captivity…though, to you, this also felt like captivity. 

Still, that didn’t exactly fill up the day.

So, you decided to search the room. Castiel’s words about a previous owner stuck with you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to them. Maybe sifting through the remnants of their stuff would give you some answers… and it might keep you busy for a bit, too.

Boredom and a healthy dose of curiosity got the best of you, and before you knew it, you were rooting through the various storage boxes you’d found tucked away in the corner of the room. They were a mix of old files, random junk, and a few forgotten knick-knacks that looked like they hadn’t seen the light of day in years. You came across a huge stash of R rated magazines, too.

Great.

Then, you stumbled across a stash of clothes that definitely screamed menswear, which now wasn’t much of a surprise to you: old tees, button-ups, and pajama pants that looked like they’d been on a permanent sabbatical from their glory days. Still, they fit the bunker aesthetic far better than your matching set, which was starting to feel like a bit much for this apocalypse-chic vibe. With a reluctant sigh and a ‘why the hell not?’ shrug, you decided to give it a go.

lThe pants were a nonstarter; they dragged behind you like a sad and worn wedding train, so you stuck with your own. But the flannel? Now that was a surprise. It hung loosely on you, the sleeves comically long, but there was something almost charming about it. And nothing a little roll-up sleeve couldn’t fix. The fabric was soft from years of wear, frayed at the cuffs in a way that made it feel like it had lived a hundred lives before landing on your shoulders.

What really sold you, though, was the smell. Despite their worn appearance, the clothes carried a faint, lingering fragrance, woodsy, warm, and somehow very comforting. Whatever its origin, it was soothing enough in this apocalyptic time to convince you the flannel was a keeper.

After your little bunker chic makeover moment, one box caught your eye. It was a bit more organized than the rest, filled with neatly stacked tape cassettes. Most of them were unlabeled, but one tape stood out. The label on it read: 

Dean’s Car Shaking Traxx

Well, that was… something.

Curious, you pried the tape from its resting place and noticed something odd as well: a tape player sitting smugly at the bottom of the box. A little old-fashioned, sure, but it was there. And, lo and behold, there was a set of headphones too, though slightly frayed at the edges but still in one piece. 

They both seemed to be in working condition.

You hadn’t heard any music in what felt like forever, not since Hell decided to make Earth its vacation spot. What was the last time you actually listened to songs for the sheer enjoyment of it? Probably it was with your dad before the Invasion. He used to take you out to concerts, your favorite bands, his favorite bands, on weekends. That tradition started when you turned sixteen, and he surprised you with tickets to an Aerosmith show. It became a regular thing, a tradition you kept up for years until—

You shook the thought away, eager for something that would make you feel normal, even if it was just for a few minutes. 

You plugged in the tape, set the headphones over your ears, and hit play.

“Well, Dean, please don’t be a country guy” you muttered, glancing down at the flannel you were wearing.

The first few chords kicked in, and you couldn’t help but smile.

CCR. 

Up Around The Bend.

You leaned back and thought the tape was crackling slightly, it didn’t matter and you didn’t care. For a moment, you could almost pretend the world hadn’t turned upside down and fish yourself a little piece of peace.

Castiel walked up and down the hallway, clearly waiting for someone. Every now and then, he'd glance at the different rooms and areas in the bunker.

The library was full of hunters, some reading lore books, others chatting casually. A few stayed in their rooms, likely dealing with their own thoughts — that he understood. None of them signed up for this. Others were at the shooting range, either to train for whatever came next or to numb their nerves about the whole situation, the sound of gunshots a clear indicator of it.

He had been running the bunker alone for what felt like ages. Jack was supposed to be back by now, and yet here he was, walking holes into the floor of the building. If he were human, his feet would’ve been screaming by now.

Suddenly, he froze. A familiar voice hit his ears coming from the hall from the west side of the building.

“No, no, explain it to me again” Dean’s voice rang out, equal parts frustrated and confused. “What do you mean Hell invaded Earth? How the hell does that even happen? And where the hell was Rowena—?”

Another voice, Jack’s this time, came. “I told you, Dean. Demons came up earthside, unleashing every monster they could find.”

"When did that even happen?” Sam asked, the confusion clear in his voice.

Castiel took a deep breath and started walking towards them, dreading two facts: one, it’d been Jack knows how long since he met the Winchesters; and two, it seems Kid God didn’t brief them in entirely.

It wasn’t necessarily the reunion he once hoped for.

He rounded the corner, and there they were. Dean, leaning against a table, rubbing his face as if he could somehow erase the last few hours from his brain. Sam, on the other hand, was pacing the room like a human tornado, clearly trying to solve a puzzle that was missing half its pieces and the other half was written in hieroglyphics.

Both of them looked… well, confused and mildly pissed, to put it lightly. But honestly, who wouldn’t be? Their perpetual, much-deserved heavenly nap had been rudely interrupted by yet another apocalypse. They’d dealt with more end-of-the-world scenarios than any human ever should, and now, it seemed they couldn’t even catch a break in the afterlife.

But the second they saw their long-time-no-see friend, everything seemed to stop. Time hung for a beat.

Dean blinked as he caught the eyes of the blue-eyed angel.

"Cas?" his voice cracked slightly, his lips twitching into a genuine smile.

Sam’s face softened too, once he glanced at his old friend.

Dean took a step forward, pulling him into a tight hug. Then, Sam wrapped his arms around both of them, the three of them standing there for a moment in a rare moment of peace. Like the world wasn’t crumbling outside, like there wasn’t a bloody, chaotic mess waiting to tear them apart.

Castiel smiled, a strange nostalgia creeping through his perpetual mind. 

Yet, he cleared his throat as he reluctantly pulled away. "It’s good to see you again, too" His gaze flicked from Dean to Sam. "Though I wish it was in a better situation. I'm sorry we had to interrupt your Heaven. But the world... it’s in chaos. Hell’s on Earth, literally."

Dean pulled back slightly, his grin fading into a more serious expression. "Yeah, I figured this wasn’t gonna be all hugs and ‘how’s afterlife’. Can’t even let a guy rest in goddamn peace."

Then, Jack turned to Cas. “Was everything alright while I was gone?”

The angel nodded, then added, “Rowena’s back as well.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “She brought her, too.”

Jack's smile widened a little as he processed the news. 

“That’s good” He then turned to Sam and Dean with a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Come on. I want you to meet everyone here.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. “Everyone?” he echoed, sharing a quick glance with Dean before the two followed Jack toward the war room.

As they entered the room, the on-going conversation quieted and was replaced by the weight of at least a couple dozen curious stares, all pointing to their direction. Hunters of all kinds were scattered around the room. Some were fairly young, almost teens, a few of them older, battle-worn and their expressions ranged from intrigued to wary, all fixed on the newcomers.

Dean furrowed his brows, his gaze sweeping the crowd. Despite the enormous size of the bunker, the room suddenly felt suffocatingly small. It reminded him of the time they offered their home to the refugees from Apocalypse World — except now, it wasn’t just a handful of people.  This was at least three times that number, maybe more.

He glanced and Sam and then muttered, “Guess we missed the memo about this place turning into Grand Central Hunter Station.”

Sam pointed a glare at him, then turned to Jack. “So… what are we facing here, again?”

Guns N’ Roses blasted through your headphones, drowning out every thought except the music. You made it your mission to listen to every cassette tape you found in the boxes. By the time you hit cassette number three’s flip side, the music was doing its job at making you feel a bit calmer a little too well. Your eyelids got heavier with every riff and before you knew it, you’d dozed off against the headboard. 

The music was loud enough to block out the creak of the door opening, but not the voice that followed.

“Why’s there a chick in my room?” a gruff voice demanded. A pause. Then louder, like the words were physically offensive: “Listening to my damn tapes? Wearing my damn clothes?”

Maybe that last part didn’t bother him as much as the rest, though he wasn’t about to admit it. He was too busy scowling and reminding himself that this room, his room, was supposed to be his sanctuary. Instead, here you were, in his flannel, looking entirely too cozy and he woudln't admit it out loud, but also borderline irresistible for someone squatting in his space.

Or was this Jack’s way of saying, Sorry I yanked you out of Heaven, but hey, thanks for agreeing to help me clean up yet another apocalyptic mess!?

Because if so—

But before Dean could spiral further, you jolted awake at his raised tone. Your heart pounded as your survival instincts kicked in. Adrenaline surged and without fully registering who or what you were looking at, you lunged your fists.

“Whoa!” Dean yelped, stumbling back as your fist connected with his chest. He rubbed the spot but barely flinched, barely feeling anything. It was more the act that bothered him. “What the hell was that for?”

Your breath hitched as you glared at him, still half-asleep and wildly defensive. “Who the hell are you, and why are you in my room?”

“Your room?!” Dean repeated, incredulous. “Lady, this is my—” He didn’t finish before you aimed a swift kick at his shin.

Dean sighed, though it was clear he wasn’t actually hurt. “Okay, seriously, what is your deal?”

“My deal?!” You shot back, breathless and still glaring. “You’re the one creeping around in my room, touching my tapes!”

Dean stopped mid-reach for his cassette player, looking at you with a frown.

“Touching your—?” Dean sputtered, clearly at a loss. “This is literally my room, and you’re wearing my—”

Before things escalated further and you could throw another useless punch in his direction, a firm hand landed on your shoulder.

“Y/N” Castiel’s voice cut in, calm and steady. “This is Dean Winchester. He is, technically, the original owner of this room... and much of what’s in it.”

Your brain paused mid-comeback. You glanced at the man, Dean, then down at the flannel you were wearing, and finally at the stack of tapes you’d been working through.

Wait. This guy made those awesome tapes? This is the guy whose flannel I’m wearing?

Dean didn’t miss the realization dawning on your face.

“Yeah” he said dryly, crossing his arms. “That’s my flannel. And my tapes. And my room.”

Castiel sighed, already sensing the incoming argument. “Dean” he said flatly. “you died.”

Dean turned to him. “Yeah, well, guess what, Cas? I’m back.”

“Technically…”

Dean’s frown deepened. “What?”

“Technically” Castiel continued, “you’re not back in the way you used to be. You’re a spirit now, Dean. You don’t need sleep, which means you don’t need a room.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “‘Scuse me?”

You finally found your voice again, snapping your attention to Castiel. “Wait, wait, what the hell do you mean he died?”

“Y/N—” Castiel started, but you weren’t done.

“No, seriously, what the hell?” you repeated, panic and confusion rising. “Are you saying he’s a ghost? Or, like, a demon or something? How the hell did he even get in here?”

“He is not a demon” Castiel said, cutting you off. “And he’s here because Jack brought him back.”

“Am I supposed to know who this Jack guy is? And why are you saying he ‘brought him back’ like that’s supposed to make this sound less insane?”

Dean threw his hands up in the air, clearly done with you, starting to pace the room. "Great. How is she supposed to be a part of this team if she doesn’t even know who Jack is? Does she even know our lore?” He shot a glance at Castiel, as if begging for some backup, but you weren’t having any of it.

“Do you know my lore?” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "How about the fact that I literally crawled out of the deepest pits of demon's hell just to survive, and now I'm stuck in this insane supernatural soap opera? Pretty sure I didn’t sign up for this mess.”

Dean stopped pacing and turned to face you. “Listen, princess, I’m not exactly thrilled about this either, but guess what? The world’s ending. Again. And we don’t have time for your pity party.”

“Oh, princess? Real original, flannel boy” you fired back, stepping even closer, toe-to-toe now. “You think you’re so high and mighty because you’ve been doing this longer? Look where it got you! And mewsflash: your tapes aren’t that good.”

Alright, that last part was just you being pity.

Dean gasped like you’d just kicked his puppy. “Not that good?!”

“That’s right, you heard it.”

“You’ve got a big mouth, you know that?”

“And you’ve got a big ego” you snapped back, your pulse inexplicably speeding up as you met his fiery gaze. Up close, you could see the freckles dusted across his face and the slight dots in his green irises, and the way his upper lip curved into a perfect cupid bow. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smack him or just—

“Enough” Castiel interjected, his tone like a bucket of ice cold water thrown on fire. He stepped between the two of you, looking like a frustrated parent breaking up a sibling fight.

Dean and you both took a step back, muttering under your breaths.

“Y/N” Castiel began, his blue eyes meeting yours, his voice calm but firm. “You need to understand. Jack isn’t just anyone. He… well…Jack is… essentially God. Or, at least, the closest thing to God we have now.”

You blinked at him while his words were bouncing around your brain like pinballs. “Wait, what?”

“He’s God” Dean said bluntly, clearly enjoying your disbelief. “The big man upstairs took early retirement for being a shithead, and Jack stepped in to take over. He’s the one keeping this whole crapshow from falling apart.” Dean then leaned toward Castiel, loudly whispering, “So, I’m guessing she also doesn’t know he’s Lucifer’s kid?”

Your eyes shot to Castiel, disbelief written all over your face. “Lucifer’s kid?”

Cas nodded.

“Let me just repeat: wait, WHAT?” You threw your hands up, pacing a small, frustrated circle before spinning back to face them. “So, let me get this straight. Ghost-boy over here” you jabbed a finger at Dean, “is somehow back because the world’s new Devil-God hybrid thought it was a good idea?”

Dean crossed his arms and looked rrather affronted. “Ghost-boy? Seriously?”

“Jack’s not the devil” Castiel said, voice steady and soothing like he was talking to a toddler. “Far from it. He’s actually the one who fixed what Chuck, uh, the former god, broke.”

You let out a slow, sarcastic chuckle. “Oh, sure. The perfect way to fix God’s mess: The Devil’s spawn. Makes total sense.”

Dean let out an exasperated groan. “Alright, you are just impossible.”

“And you are dead” you shot back. “So maybe take a seat, Flannel Casper.”

Dean let out a dry laugh, the kind that oozed disbelief. “Flannel Casper? Oh, that’s real funny. Guess what, sweetheart? This ain’t your room. It’s mine. You’re the squatter wearing my shirt.”

You shot him a glare, tugging the oversized shirt tighter around you. “Well, maybe you should’ve labeled it before you kicked the bucket, Flannel Casper.”

“I swear, if you call me that one more time—”

“What? You gonna haunt me harder?”

“I’m resurrected, not haunting” Dean corrected. “And as much as I’m loving this little spat, Cas is right. Jack’s the real deal. He’s a kid with God-level powers trying to fix what’s broken. Cut him some slack.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving Dean an unimpressed look. “And how’s that working out? Because from where I’m standing, the world’s still a total dumpster fire.”

Castiel sighed deeply, his expression softening a little, clearly happy Dean is at least trying to calm you down now. “We know. We all know. But that’s why we’re here, trying to fix it.” He gave a quick glance toward Dean before turning back to you. “Look, we’re not asking you to like it. Just to… cooperate.”

He paused for a moment, then added, “There’s a meeting tonight at six in the war room. It’s just down the hall.We’d like you to join us.”

He then glanced at Dean and nodded toward the door, silently asking him to lead himself out and let you weigh his words. He sighed, but complied nevertheless.

You narrowed your eyes at his back as he left, but you had to admit, something about the whole situation made you curious. You glanced at Castiel, who was still standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Do we really have God in this bunker?” you asked, finally breaking the silence.

Cas nodded slowly. “Yes. Jack’s on our side. In fact, he’s the one who organized this.”

Your gaze fell to the floor, shaking your head slightly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me" you mumbled in disbelief.

"Believe me, I'm bad at kidding."

He then turned to leave but paused at the door.

“We’ll be in the war room at six. Think about it.”

And with that, he was gone. You leaned back against the door, arms crossed, your mind a whirlwind of frustration, disbelief, and a healthy dose of curiosity.

God-level powers. Devil’s kid. The Great Invasion. It all felt like you were stuck in the worst kind of fever dream. You couldn't decide if you wanted to scream, cry, or run. Or maybe all three.

By six p.m., the war room was packed. Well, almost packed.

You, of course, were missing.

It was the first official meeting for the hunters living in the bunker. Some had been here for over a year, while others had only recently joined. They’d all arrived, courtesy of Castiel, Jack, or whatever angel Jack had managed to charm into playing cosmic Uber. Some unlucky souls, like you, were recruited, or more like brought here without their consent by Rowena. At first, the whole thing had been met with skepticism. And who could blame them? An underground bunker full of demon traps seemed too good to be true. But, given that hunters were now the ones being hunted, this was their best shot at survival.

And now, with you and the Winchesters finally being dragged into the fold, the recruitment process was officially over. They’d rounded up every hunter in sight. The team was complete and now, it was time to figure out what the hell came next.

But none of that really mattered to you. You were currently in your room, headphones in, pretending that a meeting about saving the world was the last thing on your to-do list. Who needs that noise when you could be busy being a reluctant background character in their season finale of Apocalypse: Part 230?

You leaned back in your chair, giving the ceiling a long, judgmental stare. Maybe you’d just sleep through the whole thing. It’s not like you were going to be much help. And honestly, your bed was giving off some serious come lay down and avoid your responsibilities vibes. A good ten hours of sleep sounded like just the thing to get you through the next apocalypse.

Your body, however, had other ideas. Four days of solid room service (courtesy of mystery snack fairy) had only fueled your inner hermit, and the clock on your nightstand didn’t lie: you were starving. You had no intention of facing the others, though.

So, for now, you'd been making it work. Snacks magically appeared at your door. Just a knock, and then bam. A tray of food, like some weird, celestial version of Grubhub. You’d never figured out who was behind it, but you were grateful, even if you missed Rommer's presence sometimes and the meals he brought.

Today, however, there was no knock. No food. No magical snack delivery.

You glanced at the clock again. Six ten.

Your stomach grumbled in protest. Fine. Maybe you’d have to venture out and loot some food yourself. At least with everyone at that meeting Castiel was blabbering about, you might have a shot at swiping something before anyone noticed.

You sighed, dramatically flopping your feet onto the cold concrete floor and headed out of the room.

“This place is like a goddamn maze” you muttered as you wandered down the hallway.

You’d been wandering for what felt like hours, but only was probably a solid five minutes, trying to remember whether you’d just passed the same door for the third time or if you’d entered some cruel parallel dimension where all hallways looked suspiciously identical. At the end of your latest path, you spotted one lonely doorway, and figured, why not?

You stepped into the threshold, but then froze.

And you’d probably still be standing there, wondering what cruel joke the universe had played on you, if not for the fact that what you found on the other side was, well... a bit of a shock.

The room in front of you was packed.

Your eyes scanned the scene: hunters of all shapes, sizes, and moods. Some looked like they had been at it for decades, their faces as hard as their weapons. Others looked more like they were holding on to whatever shred of humanity was left in a world gone to hell. 

So I guess I found the war room, you thought sarcastically.

Your brain had no idea what to do with this. This was the first time you’d stepped out of your room. This was the first time you were actually face-to-face with any of them. Well, all of them.

They were looking back at you, and that, for some reason, scared the shit out of you.

“Is that—” A voice whispered from across the room.

“What the hell is she doing here?” another one piped up, followed by a chuckle laced with disbelief.

“She can’t kiss demons’ asses out of death here” someone else muttered.

Well, isn’t that just peachy? Your reputation had clearly made the rounds before you even had the chance to make an entrance. Perfect.

You had this gut feeling, the kind that whispered, Stay in your room. Don’t go. It’s not worth it. And damn, how you wished you’d listened to it. But hunger had a way of overriding any form of common sense, and now here you were, in the lion’s den.

You clenched your jaw, every fiber of your being screaming at you to turn around and retreat back to your room, where the worst you’d have to face was your own reflection. But instead, you planted your feet firmly in place, squared your shoulders and made an unspoken promise to yourself that you were not going to let their words get to you. You were better than that, right?

Or at the very least you could look like you didn’t care.

The whispers grew louder, the judgment palpable as more people recognized you. A few hunters exchanged glances so loud, they might as well have been shouting.

“She’s gonna get us all killed.”

“Should’ve left her out there where she belongs.”

Nice. A real welcoming crowd.

Dean, sitting at the table and clearly having a moment of ‘where the hell did all this drama come from,’ glanced over at you. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he somehow saw through the tough act you were putting on. Beneath all that bravado, he could see the raw and jagged edges of hurt just begging to break free.

Leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, Dean couldn’t help himself. He turned to Castiel with a mischievous smirk, his voice was dripping with curiosity about you. 

"So, room squatter’s real popular here, huh? What’d they mean she can’t kiss demons’ asses out here?"

“It’s… complicated” the angel replied, just realizing Dean is still a bit behind on this whole story. “She, uh, she won the Hunter Games twice.”

Dean squinted, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, that teen novel from the 2010s? With the guy with the bread name?”

Cas rolled his eyes with a quiet, almost exasperated sigh. “No. Not that. It’s a game demons set up for hunters they capture. They… They fight for their lives in an arena against monsters. And she was very favored by the monster crowd.”

Dean’s face contorted, his brain clearly still struggling to process the concept of Hunter Games, but he kept his mouth shut. His attention shifted back to you, standing there like a lion tamer on the edge of snapping.

Stubborn. Broken. Probably both at once.

It finally clicked. You weren’t just some random face in the room. You’d been through hell. Literally. No wonder the anger radiated off you like a force field. You’d been fighting demons for who knows how long. And now, here you were, in a room full of strangers judging you without even trying to understand you.

You opened your mouth to say something about maybe just finding the kitchen (if this place even had one), but before you could get the words out, you were cut off.

“Welcome! You can take a seat, if you’d like to” Jack offered you an encouraging nod.

For a split second, you froze, staring at the guy like you were trying to solve a riddle. Was this guy, with the warm smile and the kind eyes, really God and Lucifer’s kid? 

And if this kid was truly God… Should you bow? Kneel? Say Hallelujah? Maybe throw in a spontaneous hymn for good measure? You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for meeting a divine offspring, but your instincts were telling you that flinging yourself on the floor wasn’t exactly the best approach.

So, you did the only reasonable thing. You followed his simple instructions.

Your feet felt like lead as you stepped into the room, the stares burning into your back even without you actually seeing them. You spotted an empty chair near the edge of the group, far enough from the center of attention but close enough to hear whatever grand plan they were about to lay out.

As you slid into the chair, someone across the table muttered just loud enough to be heard “Hope she doesn’t screw things up.”

Without missing a beat, you shot back.

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave the screwing up to you.”

A few hunters snickered, and the guy who’d spoken, Joe as you later learned, glared at you like he was about to unleash some righteous indignation but ultimately decided against it.

Smart choice.

Dean leaned toward Sam with a smirk. “Feisty. I like it.”

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, he muttered under his breath, “Can we focus, please? Wait…” His eyes narrowed as he glanced at you. “Is that your shirt she’s wearing?”

Dean grinned like a kid caught stealing cookies. “Hot, innit?”

Sam facepalmed, but before the verbal sparring could go any further, Jack stepped in.

“Thank you all for coming to this meeting. Some of you may know me, but for the newcomers, my name’s Jack” he said, his eyes sweeping across the room. “We’re here because this is it. Hell’s armies are growing stronger every day, and we’re running out of time. We have to find a way to stop them before they overwhelm us completely.”

Dean, now leaning forward with his elbows on the table, raised an eyebrow. “Alright. What’s the play? Because I’m guessing you didn’t pull us all together just to give us a ‘rah-rah, go team’ speech.”

Jack gave a faint smile but didn’t lose his serious tone. “As you all know, Hell revolted against Rowena’s new leadership. They didn’t like her reforms, making Hell less about eternal suffering and more about, well… governance.”

Your brows furrowed. 

Wait a damn minute. 

That didn’t match what you’d been told at all. Alright, demons weren’t exactly known for their honesty, but if what Kid God was saying was true, then Rowena’s leadership wasn’t the tyrannical nightmare you’d been led to believe.

Was she… not as bad as Barbas and his demon cronies had painted her?

“Every revolution has a leader” Sam said, clearly still piecing the Great Invasion together in his head. “Who led the uprising?”

“It was a demon named Malgathor.” 

The name poked at your brain just a bit, nagging like an itch you couldn’t scratch. Malgathor. You’d heard that name before. But where?

Before you could follow the thread, it hit you — a sharp and searing pain flashing into and through your skull, so sudden and intense it felt like someone was trying to peel your brain apart from the inside with a crowbar.

Your hands shot to your temples as you squeezed your eyes shut and that’s when you saw it.

A dimly lit room. Fancy but not ostentatious. Mandarin Oriental vibes, but more… utilitarian. Probably somewhere in its basement.

You were sitting in a chair, restrained. Across the room, faceless figures moved, one stepping closer. There was something about him that sent a chill crawling up your spine and you instinctively started to tremble.

And then, a voice.

“Hey!” the figure shouted. Harsh, commanding. “Hey! Are you okay?!”

But the voice twisted as the vision fractured, morphing into something softer. Female.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

You blinked hard, the image shattering like glass as reality crashed back in. The dim light was gone, replaced by the suddenly too bright fluorescents of the bunker. Dozens of eyes were on you, their expressions ranging from concern to confusion.

A blonde woman had her hand on your shoulder. “You okay there?” she asked, her voice cautious, like she was afraid you might snap at any moment.

You swallowed hard.

What the hell just happened?

You straightened, trying to play it off. “Yeah, I’m fine” you muttered, though you were acutely aware of how not fine you looked. Your face was pale, your hands trembling like you’d downed five espressos too many.

Dean’s eyed you from the other side of the table. “Fine? You just looked like someone plugged your brain into a car battery. That doesn’t scream fine to me.”

You shot him a look, equal parts defiant and exhausted. “Where were we?”

Dean frowned, clearly unsettled by your lack of snark. No witty comeback? No biting remark? That wasn’t you, not like he knew much about what was you. But if he learned anything from his one encounter with you was that you never shut up. His eyes stayed focused on you a moment longer and he couldn’t help but catch the slight tremor in your hands that you thought you were hiding so well.

Before he could press further, Sam shifted the focus. “Malgathor?” he said, his brows knitting together in thought. “How come we’ve never heard about him before?”

“Because he liked Fergus’ version of Hell” Rowena’s Scottish accent chimed in.

Your gaze flicked to her and your eyes narrowed instinctively. Something about her perfect red curls and sharply lined crimson lips rubbed you the wrong way, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. But then Jack’s words about her earlier came rushing back. Nobody else in the room seemed suspicious. Hell, they barely batted an eye at her presence.

Was it possible… she wasn’t the villain you’d been led to believe?

“Malgathor had no interest in causing trouble before. Fergus, for all his flaws, kept Hell… predictable. Contracts, misery, order. But when I took over and began implementing reforms, he turned on me. Violently.”

“Reforms?” you asked before you could stop yourself, the word tasting strange in your mouth. “What kind of reforms are we talking about here?”

Rowena’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, her expression softened. “I ended crossroads deals, stopped the eternal suffering racket, gave the damned something resembling purpose. Needless to say, it didn’t sit well with the traditionalists.”

You blinked, your brain working overtime to reconcile this version of her with the one you’d been told about by the demons who’d dragged you through hell. Had they lied? Twisted the truth? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“So” Dean said, his voice drawing everyone back. “This Malgathor guy was all-in on the Crowley’s Hell playbook, huh? Contracts, fire, long-ass lines, the whole nine yards?”

“Precisely, dear” Rowena replied, her lips curling into a grim line. “Only now, he’s expanded his vision. No longer content with Hell as it was, he’s decided to extend its boundaries. Permanently.”

Sam straightened, his brow furrowing. “You mean… he’s trying to bring Hell topside?”

Rowena nodded. 

“Not just bring it topside, Samuel. Recreate it. The whole planet, one giant pit of eternal torment, chaos, and misery. He’s determined to make Earth Hell’s crowning jewel — greater than it ever was below.”

You sat back, watching the pieces click into place for everyone else, but your mind was spinning in a different direction. Malgathor’s plan sounded insane, sure, but it also felt oddly familiar. Like you’d heard of something similar before.

“What’s the plan, then?” Dean asked, breaking the tense silence. “How do we stop this Hell wannabe dictator?”

Jack finally spoke. “We need to find his residence. He’s cloaking himself with magic strong enough to evade even me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Even you? Aren’t you, like, God 2.0? Shouldn’t that come with a built-in demon GPS?”

“It’s not that easy, Dean” Jack said simply, then turned to you. “I may not have the means to find him… but someone might have heard something about him.”

You froze. The sudden shift in attention made your skin crawl. “Oh, no” you muttered, holding up a hand that was still trembling just a little. “Don’t look at me like that. I have no idea who this Malgathor is.”

Joe, that hunter guy from earlier shot his eyebrow up. “Oh, come on, champ. You’ve been cozying up to demons for how long? You’re telling me not one of them dropped Malgathor’s name during happy hour?”

“Cozying up to demons? Is that what we’re calling ‘being tortured and barely surviving’ now?” you snapped at him.

Sam’s eyes flicked between you and Joe, sensing the brewing storm. “Okay, let’s all just—”

“No” Joe cut him off, leaning forward with a smug look on his face and his arms crossed. “I’m serious. If anyone here knows anything about Hell’s A-list psychos, it’s her.”

“Wow, thanks” you shot back, voice laced with venom. “Really nice to know my trauma has made me your go-to demon Rolodex.”

Dean muttered a low, amused yikes under his breath, but Joe either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

Rowena cleared her throat. 

“Perhaps, instead of bickering like children, we could ask the right questions.” Her gaze landed on Joe then softened as it moved to you. It seemed uncharacteristic of her and infuriatingly annoying to you. “Y/N, dear, I understand you’ve been through… well, hell. But even the tiniest scrap of memory could make all the difference.”

“I said” you repeated and drew each word out slowly and sharper than a demon blade. “I. Don’t. Know.”

And with that, you decided this conversation was over.

Next on The Great Invasion (Sneak Peek from Chapter 3):

He picked up the silky fabric that you immediately recognized as your pajama top from earlier. “Except for this. Didn’t take you for a fancy PJ girl… But I gotta admit, this looks nice.”

But my shirt looks better on you, he thought, as he placed the black satin on the chair next to you.

“Dean… I swear, if you don’t get the hell out of here—”

Instinctively, your hand shot under the bed, grabbing the box of rock salt you’d stashed there for just such occasions.

“Woah, no need to get antsy” he said, moving his hands up in surrender.

You chuckled, glancing at the salt in your hand with a wicked smirk. “Wait, does this really work on you?” You raised an eyebrow.

Hey, you! Yeah, I’m talking to you. Looking fantastic in his shirt. 😉

All jokes aside, I hope you had fun reading Chapter 2 of The Great Invasion. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 3: coming soon!

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@thebiggerbear @spnaquakindgdom @artyandink @globetrotter28 @kaz-2y5-spn

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@roseblue373

[foone]

The thing they don't tell you about becoming a slimegirl is that you have to pull out your own bones. One by one, like baby teeth*.

The slime HRT loosens your ligaments and tendons (which are slowly turning to slimegoo), and the bones remain. It's something chemistry related to do with how slimegirls are silicon-based and bones are calcium-based, so the bones don't slimeify like the rest of your body.

Keratin converts like most parts of your body, so your nails and hair melts into your general goo body, but bones remain, as intrusions in your increasingly undifferentiated flesh. What's worse, slime goo is the same all the way through: you can feel on the inside just as well as the outside. So you feel all your bones, constantly, like a blister in your mouth back when you were biology and not slime (some of us have been feeling our bones since we were born, which is why we're on slime HRT).

So you pull them out. You reach inside yourself and grab hold, and pull. Your goo holds it in, as it clings to the porous bone surface (and slimegirl bones only get more porous, as the goo tries and fails to break down the bone). Slimeified tendons stretch and eventually break, and finally the bone pulls free, dripping with bits of your go. The experience is somewhere between excruciating and orgasmic, in different amounts.

But you have to do it bone by bone by bone. 206 bones. It takes a while. Your body slimifies at different rates, so you have to keep pulling on different bones to see if they're loose enough to come out yet.

A mature slime girl could just filter herself through a fine mesh or screen and leave the bones behind, but by definition a slime girl with bones isn't yet mature. Being able to liquefy to that degree takes time to learn, and a key step on that journey is removing your bones. Your viscosity and density is controlled by your mind, but having your bones still in you keeps you from fully going liquid. Some slimegirls even temporarily lose all cohesion when they finally pull their final bone, as they realize they're no longer human, and no longer biology. Usually they manage to pull themselves together within a few hours, so it's recommended to let him stay that way unless they're in some immediate danger. It helps them adapt to their new form, psychologically.

BTW people sometimes ask questions about why slimegirls can't digest their own bones, when they can clearly (no pun intended) digest other bones: We've all seen a slimegirl eat a chicken whole.

First of all, this is an offensive question. Every slimegirl transitions at her own speed, don't rush them!

But the technical reason is because of the immune system. Parts of it remain active and get incorporated into your morphogenic matrix, and they recognize your own body as "you". So the crepulius filaments don't try to break them down into digestible particles, like they do with other bezoars.

Slimegirls often get help removing some of the larger bones. Femurs, for example, are very difficult to remove on your own.

The skull usually goes last. Once the slimeification process is complete, your skull is protecting nothing, just more slime. Slime girls don't have brains (no jokes please, it's juvenile), every cell contributes equally to cognition. Your skull pulls free with a loud sucking sound, and the last bits of your former body pours out the eyeholes and rejoins your new form.

Many slimegirls keep their skull around as a memento of their former self. Even more of them crush it as soon as they can. Good riddance to being a solid. You're free, in a way that someone trapped in a flesh body could never be. And you're never going back.

* unfun fact about baby teeth: they loosen and fall out because of the adult tooth behind them pushing them out. If you have no adult tooth back there, or too many adult teeth behind them, you can keep your baby tooth for a very long time. I had one of mine until I was in my 30s.

If I got turned into a slime girl and I still had bones inside the slime I would walk into heaven and stab God in the face

[adorerio]

Oh To Be Yours

Suna x reader

older brothers best friends plot! Miya reader! Ending opening for a part 2! Background info for the next part!

word count: 975

--------------------------------------------------

Growing up having Atsumu and Osamu as your older brothers was definitely interesting. They always kept you on your toes and was funny being around. The bad part? They never let you talk to boys they didnt aprove of. It started in junior high when a guy your age asked to walk you home. Safe to say your brothers scared him off because "he looked to funky"

Things didn't change when you came to Inarizaki High. Your brothers wanted to protect you so they insisted you join the vollyball team so they could keep an eye on you at first you said no wanting to join another club after school. But, after Atsumu gave your parents a multitude of reasons they started pushing you to join and reluctantly you said yes.

͙͘͡★

After school you walked over to the gym it would be your first day as the manager and the coach had suggested your first few days would be observing and getting used to the team. He said they were a well behaved group of kids - minus your brothers and the person who instigated most small arguments Suna Rintaro.

When he told you that the name sounded familair but you just couldn't grasp who the name belonged to. Maybe someone from your junior high? You kept wracking your brain to find an answer while you were so distracted you walked into the door to the gym and landed on your butt due to the impact

great I hope nobody saw tha-

*click*

did someone actually just take a picture??

Turning your head to see whoever the person was you recognized him-

"Hey your the guy that my brothers always bring home right?"

Offering his hand to help get you back on your feet he answered "yeah that's me your y/n Miya. Your brothers talk about you a lot its kinda annoying y'know."

"Im sorry what's your name again?"

"Suna Rintaro"

oh

͙͘͡★

"Ah y/n I see you met Suna"

The coach saw you two walk in toghether in fact- the whole team did talk about awkward. You noticed Atsumu staring daggers into Suna. Who you would assume was a close friend to him. At this rate he's going to tell Suna to never talk to you and your life would be practically over-

"Everyone huddle up! I would like our new manager to introduce herself. Then you guys can as well and we can start the drills."

god damn it

Having all types of eyes on you made you feel nervouse you actually forgot your own name for a second. You tried looking at your brothers but that just made it worse. Until you met eyes with suna again. It felt different. It felt safe. While locking eyes with him you decided to introduce yourself to him. Everyone else was just there.

"Hello everyone my name is Miya Y/N and I'm a first year here. If you cant already tell my brothers are Atsumu and Osamu but believe me I'm the better sibling. My hobbies are *your hobbies* and I love listing to *your favorite musician*.

The rest of the team introduced themselves to you and they included the position they played. Some people stood out more than others. Like Kita who said he was the captain and he even asked if it was okay to call you by your first name since there was now three Miya siblings instead of two. You were fine with it of course.

The last person to introduce himself was Suna. He kept it short really and avoided eye contact during it. It was weird because when you introduced yourself he locked eyes but now that it was his turn he avoided it. Maybe your brothers had already told him off. And if they did you would find out and probably yell at them for scaring away another guy.

After Suna walked away you decided it would be best to forget what happened outside the gym and focus on the team. Of course you studied them but you would help coach with tasks as well. Like filling up the water bottles, getting vollyballs and the coach would ask for your own input like what could have been done better.

Safe to say for your first day it wasn't that bad.

͙͘͡★

Once you got home you grabbed a snack and locked yourself in your room wanting to avoid any questions your brothers wanted to ask. As you approached your desk you reached for one thing in particular your diary. Your parents had bought it for you for your 13th birthday and you still kept it.

Sure your family was very open with each other and you trusted them fully but it was hard to talk to them for certain things and your parents knew that. That's what your diary was for.

"Dear Diary,

today is -------- and was my first day as the manager of the volleyball team. It was a smooth first day with not to much trouble so probably the best part. But, I also met a guy. I mean does it really count as met he's been to the house before but we never talked. If anything all I got was a nod from him. I always thought he was attractive I mean his eyes its like there's something he's always thinking about. There is never a moment he's just blankly staring.

But of course I never thought of the possibility of dating that's not how it goes with two overprotective brothers. I got to talk to him today tho outside with nobody watching. It was embarassing because of that stupid picture he took.

It might be crazy that over this one interaction I'm hoping for something to happen between us. And I'm hoping he's wishing for the same thing

Oh to be yours"

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

AN: well that's a wrap for the first part. Originally it wasn't meant to be a two-parter but I didnt want to rush the ending or make this super long either. The second part will be out once I finish my other wips. Criticism and reqs are always welcome!!

[yoonyeon0]

Hi, could you write headcanons of Raian Kure in a relationship? Like when he likes someone and doesn't know how to approach them?

original asker most likely couldn’t find my ask box so I did it myself 😭

also, my ask box is always some type of song/lyric so just look for that!

RAIAN KURE RELATIONSHIP HCS

“i hate you, i love you.”

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ raian is a very..peculiar lover. maybe not weird, but definitely out of the normal range of lovers. and trust me, it’s even worse when he has feelings he can’t exactly express.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ you gotta be one damn cool and special person to even grab the attention of raian in a romantic sense. you have to be careful and very cautious - someone that doesn’t deal with bullshit and is quick to shut things down. basically someone that is stronger than him mentally but not physically. even with all of your strong points, raian will always somehow be more dominant.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ raian is surprisingly awkward. its the first time he has felt love in a romantic sense and the way it is so intense it takes him off guard which is surprising. obviously his type of awkward isn’t the same as a normal awkward person - it’s wayy more aggressive.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ because raian is so awkward, he doesn’t even know how to go along with his feelings - he most likely doesn’t even realize that he’s in love. he probably treats you like everyone else - insulting, annoying, and more. but he puts a strict ‘no’ at threatening you. he, for some reason, doesn’t want to see you hurt in any type of way and definitely avoids even play fighting with you.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ trust me, if raian has a crush on you, he will pick on you more than he does for anyone else. honestly i feel like that’s why he wants such a mentally strong person, someone that will snap back if they’re insulted because its so much more fun that way!

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ contrary to popular belief, i feel like he shows concern but to an extent. when he has a crush on someone, he will definitely notice new things - whether they are bad or good.

“oi!”

you rolled your eyes and let a loud exhale, obviously irritated by the voice you registered as the man you despised. you don’t know why he was intent on bothering you when your just trying to survive without him being at every corner. you slowly turned around to see the man looking at you with his classic smirk, obviously ready to give you hell.

“hi. what do you want?”

his shit eating grin slowly faded when he looked you up and down before locking on to your broken arm.

“hey. what happened?”

the both of you looked down to your broken arm and prayed he wasn’t going to bring it up but who were you kidding? he always does and you always want to punt him 30 yards.

he slowly started chuckling before breaking into a loud cackle.

“hey! you’re weak as hell! do your bones break when you pick a 5 pound dumbbell or some shit?”

your face obviously scrunched in anger and with a glare that even the birds around you noticed, you went up to him and grabbed his collar.

“shut the hell up. only reason I have this broken arm is because i was busy beating up bitches that wanted you gone.”

he raised an eyebrow before softly chuckling before leaning so close you could feel his hot breath on your eye lashes.

“oh really? what do you want as a reward? maybe a kiss? maybe you want me to get on my knees and thank you, kissing your feet and slowly going up to you thighs and-“

your hand immediately moved from his collar to his face before you gave him a hard slap with your non-broken hand which obviously didn’t even phase him.

“shut up you loser! ugh, i can’t fucking stand you!”

you immediately turned away and walked away, trying to make it seem like you didn’t want to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

unknown to you, raian was behind you chuckling some words while rubbing the slap on his cheek.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ everyone in Kure family can obviously tell that raian’s feelings for you are different than most people around him. it probably became a joke in kure family that you and him were dating because of how obvious it was.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ the person to tell raian that he is very much in love with you is no one other than his own sister, fusui. this probably happened when he was having one of his yearly meetings with her.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ he most likely thinks that she’s just being a dumbass 😭

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ he would have to get near you one more time after fusui telling him that he’s in love to really believe her words.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ i won’t even lie, he would either never tell you he likes you or he would tell you as soon as he realizes. of course when he does tell you, its not a normal confession.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ he def asks fusui for some advice that he tries to take. keyword: tries.

you were so confused right now. there was raian kure, asking you to train with him, knowing damn well that he was so much stronger than you.

“hell no. i know you hate me but i never knew you wanted to kill me.”

he seemed to take a deep breath before looking at you, dead in the eye. he seemed to be looking for something in your eyes. if you hadn’t moved you head slightly, you two would have probably been standing there staring at each other.

“i..don’t hate you.“

he said the sentence so quietly, which was so sudden and surprising, you almost didn’t hear him.

“what did you say? speak up.”

“ugh, you fuckin’ complain too much. cmon, you don’t have a choice. i said i want to train with you. what more of a reason do you want?”

“why? so you can break all of my bones?”

you started getting closer and closer to him, as if to mock or intimidate him.

“huh? what’s wrong? come on say something!”

you stopped right in front of him, now looking up into his eyes. you couldn’t decipher what he was thinking about, what was bugging him. you thought that maybe he was finally going soft on you so you started smirking.

“wipe that fuckin smirk off your face you crazed bitch. making me feel all types of ways, you did this on purpose right?”

your smile faded as raian’s smile came into your sight. he started slowly approaching you while you stepped back, little by little.

“all you want is my validation right? what a whore. well, you got what you want so don’t pussy out now.”

˚꩜ .ᐟ when your relationship with raian finally starts, he doesn’t know what to do. this is most likely his first rodeo and he probably think relationships only consist of fucking and kissing so it’ll be a little hard to teach him that relationships are more than that.

˚꩜ .ᐟ raian is terrible at anything romantic. not that he can’t be romantic, but it’s more of him just doing his own thing.

˚꩜ .ᐟ once a blue moon raian will get you flowers and invite you to train with him because that is his idea of spending time together.

˚꩜ .ᐟ i dont think raian reminds you that he loves you unless you are in a really messed up mental situation but even then he’s hesitant.

not because he doesn’t love you, he just thinks that you already know this. like you being with him isn’t already enough?

˚꩜ .ᐟ i’ll be honest, if you thought that raian would be mentally available; you’re wrong. if you feel like you guys aren’t communicating enough, you’re gonna have to force him to sit and listen to you and and what the two of you should do.

˚꩜ .ᐟ you don’t even suspect raian to be cheating. like not only because of his terrible behavior, he just doesn’t show any interest in people other than you.

˚꩜ .ᐟ you two do get in fights. more than normal. mainly because raian refuses to cooperate and/or communicate with you. he also kinda disrespects and disregards your feelings in fights because he is kind of a dick.

˚꩜ .ᐟ don’t think that he’s like akoya, he definitely notices his wrongs and he always apologizes, even if the apology is just not really him saying sorry. he’s trying okay?

˚꩜ .ᐟ you will NEVER catch him in a submissive way outside of your relationship. but inside the house, he is kinda of a piece of mold. insufferably clingy.

˚꩜ .ᐟ he’s never home. but he always asks to call you and send texts which is adorable in a way. sometimes when he’s feeling extra lonely and romantic, which is rare, he’ll write you a letter that has spots of blood on them. and people say that romance is dead.

˚꩜ .ᐟ no body knows you exist and are in a relationship it’s raian if they haven’t been in the kure village until you two get married. he keeps you secret because he knows how many enemies he has so he doesn’t want you hurt.

˚꩜ .ᐟ does raian want kids? no. does he end up getting them anyway because he doesn’t pull out? yes! but don’t worry, he does love them even if it doesn’t seem like it.

˚꩜ .ᐟ doesn’t like matching things but has a photo of you in his wallet that he FORBIDS people to look at.

˚꩜ .ᐟ will and would buy you whatever you please, just don’t ask him much or it’ll irritate him.

dividers from both @plutism and @aquazero 🥰

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙣! 𝘿𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠.

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ your domestic boyfriend and you

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader genre: fluff word count: 1.2k notes: i felt the need to expand more of why jay is just ...mhmmmm (plus it contains some type of realization about being not what your supposed to be)

There was only so much you could think about.

It was another busy day for you. You had just submitted several important forms, and instead of feeling relieved, you felt frustrated. It seemed like those papers were punishing you for simply delivering them to the right people.

You had one form for the counselor, another for the department head, and a few more for positions that seemed made only to make you feel miserable. All you could do was wander aimlessly across campus, holding those papers that only made your day worse.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Jay called out as he rushed to stop you from crossing the road. If you had taken just a few more steps, that fast bus would have sent you to the hospital just blocks away.

"Oops! Sorry…" You scratched your head, feeling clumsy in front of Jay. "I didn’t really mean to—"

"Are you holding your requirements?" Jay asked as he fixed his own clothes for a bit, then back with a concerned look towards you. "Can I see them?"

"Uh, yeah…" You slowly handed your documents to him.

For a brief moment, you were lost in his eyes, sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight. His strong jawline made it feel like you were gazing directly at Michaelangelo's sculpture.

"—and you definitely need to send all these scanned documents online." Jay said, stopping when he noticed your sudden silence.

He wanted to help you with your requirements since you had different courses this semester, and he might not get the same schedule. But instead of focusing on helping you on your paperwork, he was just looking at your face. It definitely was the way you looked with your eyes, with him being overly familiar it only meant you were basically thirsting for him right at that moment.

Suddenly, you felt a warm kiss on your lips. It took a moment to process, but when you came back to reality, you saw Jay’s playful smile. You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"J-Jay!" You covered your mouth as he laughed at your reaction.

"What? You were daydreaming again."

"I… I was?" You stammered. And yet, it was true.

"It doesn’t creep me out, but…" Jay leaned closer to your ear. "You should keep it low-key when you’re checking me out."

You gasped, your eyes wide at his words. Yes, it was true; you were checking him out. But did he have to be so aware of it?

"Hey!" You playfully tapped his shoulder as Jay chuckled.

"I'm just saying," he replied, "Still not convinced I'm dating you?"

You squinted at him. Of course, you still couldn’t believe it. You were still trying to make sense of it all.

Long story short, you once went out with friends and tried alcohol for the first time. By some twist of fate, Jay was there. From the hazy memories you had and what your friends told you, you had made a move on the campus's big-shot guitarist heartthrob.

And now, ten months later, you were dating THE Park Jongseong. Time really flies.

"I… Yeah," you admitted shyly, rubbing the back of your neck as your face turned red.

"Heh. Cute."

"Ugh!" You tried to snatch your documents back from him. "I showed you my papers, and now you’re teasing me. I’m leaving!"

Jay laughed and quickly followed you.

"You like staring at me for long periods?"

"Like that’s your concern?" You continued to brisk away from him.

"Um, yeah? I am your boyfriend—" You covered his mouth, trying to get him to some nearby shade.

Under a big oak tree, you sighed as you removed your hands from his mouth.

"Are you still shy?" Jay asked with a teasing smile.

"I don’t want the attention! And—"

"I don’t care," he said, holding your hand. Suddenly, warmth spread through you. It was hard to be brave when he was looking at you like that. You were basically melting within his gaze.

"You… should…" You cleared your throat, trying to find your words.

"I don’t care. You know that," Jay said, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

You looked away, and he gently turned your chin towards him.

"We’re together now," Jay smiled, holding your hands. "I’m your lover. That’s final."

You squeaked at that. Your lover. It still seemed unreal. You were a guy, and you never thought you would experience something like this. It was painful to think back on how you accepted that you didn’t deserve such care.

Someone reliable, caring, and genuinely wonderful—Jay was like a miracle. You still couldn’t believe it was true.

"You're so sappy," you commented, even though you felt the same way about him. Jay chuckled.

"And so what?" He looked at you, determined to give you that confidence boost. "I’ll tell you I love you for all my life if it means embarrassing myself in front of everyone."

You sighed. Of course, he was impulsive. You tried to laugh it off.

"You don’t have to go overboard."

"You’re not giving me options," Jay raised an eyebrow. "I’ll shout it if you don’t let me do my own thing."

You rolled your eyes. No matter what he did, he did it well.

"Fine." You tried to fondle his fine fingers with your own hands. You could still see the marks and slight calluses he gained from playing his beloved guitar, both past and recent. And yet, they looked so pretty when they held yours.

"Fine?" Jay’s face lit up with a grin. "So you’d let me shower you some affection in public?"

You tried to hold back your laughter. "Just keep it to a minimum! Keep it low-key. Okay?"

In the end, you were still shy about making Jay look like a total loser in front of everyone. One moment, he was known for charming girls, and now he was enchanted by you, a guy who was barely anything but common dude. Yet, Jay comforted you. He refused to be looked down upon for loving someone so special.

"I can see you’re still worried," Jay said seriously, fixing your hair. "We’ll be fine."

You swallowed hard.

"I’m here," he held your hands tightly.

That was enough to cast aside your fears. One look at him and you knew he was there to protect you. And in any case, all you need is him. And so did he need you.

"Ugh, so many people!" You tried to enter the admissions office as students crowded the waiting area.

"Just stick close!" Jay held your hand tightly as you navigated through the sea of students. Even though he had finished his requirements, he stayed by your side, never letting go of your hand.

Sometimes, Jay was just too perfect. It made you feel lighthearted as you walked beside him.

"Okay, I found some seats!" Jay called out, leading you to a row of empty chairs.

As you plopped down, you sighed heavily. You didn’t even care how uncomfortable the plastic seat was; you just felt tired.

While you waited, Jay pulled out his phone and plugged in his earphones. He offered you one of the buds.

"Hey."

"Mhm?"

"Music?"

You smiled and accepted. As you listened, you closed your eyes, letting the slow rhythm take you away.

Jay watched you relax, fixing your hair with one hand. It made him feel warm inside, like a child with a favorite toy.

As he looked away to distract himself, you rested your head on his shoulder. He felt his heart race. It was hard to resist hugging you right then.

But he remembered your earlier request. Keep it low-key. Still, he wanted to take a chance.

He held your hand tightly, cherishing the moment. For him, nothing felt more precious than having you by his side.

| masterlist! | previous | next |

[t-lostinworlds]

Spider & The Slayer | Peter Parker

PAIRING: peter parker x vampire slayer!oc TROPE/GENRE: meet cute; coffee shop au; fluff SUMMARY: Where Peter meets a girl who isn't who she seemed to be. WARNINGS: cursing, nwh spoilers i guess, vampires, i think that's it? it's pretty tame. WORD COUNT: 5.2k+

A/N: hello! here's a fic commissioned by @theslayerofthevampires ! thank u so so much for trusting me with this. this was definitely something new for me bc i've never done oc's before. but anyways i hope you're satisfied with it! and i hope u guys enjoy it!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ P. PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was fascinating how changing one small thing of a routine could have a profound impact on a person's life. You could leave the house a minute early and the series of events that would happen henceforth would be different than if you had left the house a minute late. Whether that was for better or for worse remained unknown.

As for Peter, it was him coming into the café later than when he usually did.

Later in the afternoon once he was finished with his morning errands was when he typically showed up, that way he could go straight into patrolling for the night after finishing a warm coffee or two. But since the night before was much more taxing compared to the others, he found himself sleeping past his multiple alarms.

It only became a domino effect after that.

He showed up late at his morning job, which caused him to clock out later than usual to appease his manager. As a result of that, rush hour caught him so getting to the train station took far longer than usual.

Peter knew of MJ's schedule at the café, so he knew he could still catch her on time, even if it would only result in seeing her for only a few minutes. What he didn't take into account was her getting off early and missing her entirely.

He only found out the second he got inside the café. Because instead of the familiar girl with a certain head of curls standing behind the counter, it was a big, bald, burly man who he knew was the owner of the place. Peter was so used to MJ taking his order that he ended up just staring at the man for a few seconds or more.

"Are you going to order or what?" the man gruffly said.

Just as Peter was about to speak, he was interrupted by the chime of the front door's bell followed by heavy and rushed footsteps.

During the months he'd been keeping tabs on MJ and Ned under the guise of being a regular customer, he had never seen her before.

Beautiful brown eyes with dark brown hair framing her pretty face even though her features sported an annoyed look more than anything else. The red dress she wore complemented her skin tone prettily. She also wore some black tights, knee-high boots and a long black coat—to keep her warm, most likely. Apart from finding her cute, her silver necklace with a cross also had him intrigued.

At first, Peter thought she was just a customer rushing in to seek warmth and to hide away from the coldness of the outside. Yet aside from the sharp glare the man was sending her way, she walked directly past Peter and straight into the back room.

The man turned to Peter and said, "We will be with you in a moment."

The moment the man disappeared into the back, an argument ensued. 

It wasn't a screaming match per se—the voices were muffled more than anything else—but it was loud enough for some words to echo into the front counter. Either way, Peter was only able to discern their exact conversation due to his enhanced hearing.

"You're supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago!"

"The traffic was shit, Larry, what'd you want me to do? Fly?"

"This isn't the first time you've been late, young lady!'

"I'm earlier than my usual shift!"

"If this happens, again—"

"What? You're firing me?"

Peter heard a beat of silence followed by some grumbling.

"That's what I thought. You're already short-staffed as is," the girl scoffed. "Now can I go and do my job?"

There was a few more grumbling before she finally came back out to the front.

Peter caught her heavy eye roll before she locked gazes with him.

As if knowing that he overheard everything, her whole demeanor suddenly turned shy. Or perhaps Peter simply didn't master his poker face yet. He probably looked too concerned for someone who wasn't supposed to hear anything.

"Sorry about that," she said with a timid smile.

"You don't need to apologize," Peter responded, trying to reassure her as much as he could.

She nodded, her smile turning a little more relaxed. "Same as usual?"

Peter looked at her confused.

Sure, he frequented here often but he didn't think anyone else would be aware of his order considering it was always MJ who took it.

Noticing his confusion, the girl in front of him let out a soft yet awkward laugh.

"I usually work at the back but I do notice how you come here often," she explained, looking away immediately after as she waved her hand. "Not in a weird way or anything! I-I mean like, I'm not a stalker or uh, a creep or something—"

"Don't worry," Peter reassured her, chuckling. "I mean, I come here often and I barely know who else works here? It's kinda my fault for noticing you."

The girl became even more flustered than before, so Peter decided to divert the subject and asked for her name.

"Isabella," she said, smiling with her hand out. "But you can call me Elle."

"Parker. Peter," he fumbled, cheeks turning hot as he shook her hand with a chuckle. "Peter Parker."

"Nice to meet you, Peter," she giggled in return. "Now, what can I get for you?"

•••

It was only a week later that Peter found out that MJ had already resigned from the café. He shouldn't have been surprised considering school was starting back up again. Sure, August was still a few weeks out but he figured she decided to go there early to be able to familiarize with the city. He assumed Ned did the same thing too, since he also hadn't seen him around the café since then.

A part of him wished he could've seen them one last time before they got to Boston. But the other part of him was saying this was for the best. Besides, what was he even going to say? It would've made things weird if he said goodbye because at the end of the day, to them, he was just a random customer that frequented the café.

Yet despite the fact that the two main people he always checked up on—the main reason he visited the café in the first place—were no longer in New York, he couldn't stop going.

He told himself it was simply out of habit. After all, he had been going to the café every single day for the past couple of months. It had been ingrained in his routine that not stopping by at least once simply felt wrong in some way.

Yet deep down he knew it was probably something else or rather, someone.

In only a short amount of time, Elle had intrigued him more than he'd like to admit.

Peter wasn't sure yet as to what exactly it was.

He'd like to think that he was simply making a new friend. But would a simple and innocent friendship—if the mentioned friendship didn't have any underlying feelings—make you feel conflicted? 

Even though he was very well aware he was doing absolutely nothing wrong, Peter somewhat felt a sense of guilt hanging out with Elle.

He kept going back to the promise he made to MJ, about finding her and making her remember. But then again, he'd been visiting the café for months yet there was never any progress. And every time Peter thought they were getting somewhere, that hope would immediately be snuffed out once he realized that she only recognized him as a regular customer and nothing more.

Now, she was hundreds of miles away and chasing after her to Boston wouldn't be a good idea. Apart from coming off as a stalker by appearing at every place she was at—New York needed Spider-Man.

Maybe he should've tried harder when she was still here. Maybe he should've just told her the truth right off the bat.

Or maybe it was time to move on.

Not that he would ever acknowledge all of these feelings any time soon, obviously.

For the past few weeks, he'd been justifying his urge to spend time with Elle as a mere curiosity. Because there was just something about her that he couldn't quite put a finger on. And the only way to find out was to be in her company.

Peter only wanted answers to the questions floating in his head.

That was what he kept telling himself, at least.

•••

It sort of worked.

And by that, Peter meant he learned much more about Elle the more they spent time together.

She was the same age as him and an only child of divorced parents. She was originally from a town just outside of Los Angeles and had only recently moved to New York once she was legal to do so. Now, she found herself working full-time at the café to make ends meet.

They weren't at a stage of knowing each other's numbers yet and they mostly hung around the café—as if it was their own little bubble, almost. But the hours Peter spent in his usual nook in the corner had definitely increased.

If she noticed, she never said a word about it.

Better yet, whenever he would study there for an upcoming GED test, she would sometimes sit with him and help him out whenever her boss wasn't looking. She also was generous enough to give him free refills during moments he would stay later in the night.

Peter would be lying if he said it didn't make him feel some type of way.

His cheeks would heat up whenever their gazes would meet from across the room. A certain warmth would settle in his heart whenever he'd hear her laugh, its pace beating that little bit faster whenever it was him who'd made her laugh. He would find himself grinning unconsciously whenever he would catch a glimpse of her smile, the corner of his lips lifting higher whenever that very smile was directed at him—that type of way.

Something that only seemed to grow on the one-month mark they'd known each other—and hadn't stopped growing since then.

It was easy to say that he was starting to really, really,likeher.

He had also learned to simply let things play out—to go with the flow, if you will. So, he tried not to be too hard on himself and just let himself feel what he feels and see where it goes.

After saving the world countless times and this city even much more, he could at least indulge himself in talking to a pretty girl, right?

Still, there was something else that also piqued his interest. Because the more he got to know her, the more questions seemed to keep popping up.

It made him even more curious.

Other than the fact that she seemed like such a nice sweet and funny girl, quite upbeat when you catch her in a good mood, was able to match his sarcasm very well, funny as well as pretty, he could feel that there was more to her than meets the eye.

Peter was noticing things that simply seemed off.

Aforementioned things weren't necessarily odd in a bad way. They could pass as benign at best. Peter would be able to leave it alone, if she didn't react the way that she did.

But that was the thing, her reaction to being questioned was odd.

Like that one time Peter asked her about a cut on her eyebrow. It wasn't too deep, and he could see that it was on the path of feeling. Still, when he'd seen her the day before and the cut didn't exist then, it was normal for him to ask about how she got it.

Peter expected her to shrug and say something simple like bumping her head against the door or some mishap that was caused by clumsiness more than anything else. But then she started to get nervous. She was stammering an explanation he didn't get to catch because she was already rushing away, throwing in an excuse about some delivery she needed to prepare before disappearing into the back room.

He tried to ignore it but then things just kept getting weirder.

•••

"As if New York hadn't been through enough," said an older, scruffy man as he took a sip of his black coffee.

"Yeah, I don't get why we're always the center of shit," a lanky guy with glasses responded. "Why can't it be Indiana's turn or something?"

"Well, heard there's some shit going on in that town, too."

"Huh, you're right."

The two men chatted as they sat at a booth just beside Peter's. They were two construction workers from across the street, taking a break from their night shift.

It wasn't that Peter was nosey—okay, fine maybe he was, I mean, who isn't'?—but he was unable to tune them out as he waited for Elle to come back with a refill of his coffee.

Besides, their conversation was starting to get interesting.

"You'd think the Avengers would've handled it by now," lanky-boy added. "The number of victims is coming up to double digits."

"Do you really think the Avengers would waste their time on animal attacks?" the old man scoffed. "That's way below their pay grade."

Peter found himself agreeing.

Besides, Spider-Man was there. It's not like he couldn't handle whatever these mysterious attacks were—definitely not tooting his own horn.

Either way, Peter was already aware of the situation. He had been keeping up with the reports on the radio and each one has left him confused more than ever.

He'd tried to catch whatever it was that was behind these attacks but he never seemed to get to the scene of the crime on time. It was always already taken care of. The police would already be swarming the place, so it was safe to assume that they'd been called. Journalists would then follow suit, trying to cover the story as best they could.

Peter would watch from the rooftops as they interviewed the very few witnesses. But what truly raised some questions was that they always describe a woman that stopped these creatures, there for one second and then gone the next.

Was there another new vigilante in New York?

"Sorry that took so long, the machine was acting up again."

Peter turned to Elle with a bright smile, "Why are you apologizing? Are you trying to get me to leave quicker or something?"

"Yes, your ass is about to burn an imprint on that seat," she retorted sarcastically.

Raising a brow, Peter leaned closer to her, smirking. "Why are you thinking about my ass?"

Her eyes widened in shock, pretty lips opening and closing with no words escaping them.

Peter couldn't stop his laugh from bursting out.

"Shut up, Parker," she scoffed, kicking his foot under the table. Though she couldn't stop her giggles as she poured him more coffee.

"There's not even an explanation as to where these animals are coming from," old man grumbled, continuing their conversation.

"But what if there is?" glasses said. Lowering his voice, added, "What if they're not exactly…animals."

"Not that rumor again, Bob—"

"Come on, Luke, it makes sense!"

Peter's heard about that rumor, too.

The people who were attacked by these 'animals' were found to have two punctures on the neck. There was also the case of severe blood loss which didn't make sense from a scientific standpoint because it's impossible for such tiny holes to cause that amount of bleeding in little time. So, theories started going around as people drew their own conclusions. It was probably a way for them to soothe their own fears because knowing what it was would enable them to prepare. That was much easier than trying to fight the unknown.

"Really?" Luke scoffed. "Vampires?"

"I mean, what else could it be?" Bob pushed. "Do you really think a wild animal will survive New York city? It would've been hit by a car by now!"

"Vampires are just a fairytale," Luke brushed off, tone turning teasing as he said, "Or that one shitty movie you love."

"Twilight is not shitty," Bob grumbled before sighing, "Look, Thor was a fairytale once! The Hulk is real but you draw the line on vampires?"

"Whatever floats your boat, Bob."

"Okay, then what about the woman?" lanky Bob continued. "Why would people on the street call her The Vampire Slayer if there aren't any vampires?"

Peter was snapped out of his eavesdropping when Ella let out a panicked yelp. It was only then he realized that coffee had spilled over his mug and splattered all over the table. His concern only grew when he saw the way she was clutching her hand.

"Shit, shit, shit," she hissed.

Peter immediately got out of his seat to stand in front of her. He took her hand in his as he grabbed some tissue from his table. He gently wiped her hand clean and started checking how badly she burned herself. A sigh of relief escaped him once he saw it wasn't severe. Peter didn't know that it was but he couldn't help but pull her hand up to his lip and started blowing cool air on it.

The second he looked up, their gazes met.

Peter didn't know how long they were staring at each other, but he found himself not minding it. But the emotions that flickered in her eyes, from shock to embarrassment had her looking away.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a tad bit disappointed. He would've stayed looking into her eyes for much longer if he could.

"You okay?" he asked, softly caressing her tender skin with his thumb.

"I—" She blinked. "Y-Yeah! Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean your hand—"

"Is completely fine!" she squeaked, pulling her hand away and hiding it behind her. "Don't worry about it."

"Everything okay?" Peter frowned, confused. "You seem spooked."

"Why would I be spooked?" she let out an awkward laugh. 

She never had a mishap before. If there was one thing about her, she was quick on her feet. Peter has seen it countless times from catching a plate before it hits the floor without even looking, or dodging a cupcake with her back turned when a baby had decided to toss it across the room. So, her spilling coffee, on her hand at that, seemed uncharacteristic.

Maybe she was distracted?

Judging from the proximity of those men, she probably heard about what they were talking about or, more or less, was reminded of it since it was the only thing the news had been covering lately. 

"Are you scared about those animal attacks?" he asked in genuine concern. "I could always walk you—"

"Me? Pfft, no. I'm not scared," she quickly brushed it off, waving her hand around. "It's all rumors anyway."

"What, you don't believe in vampires? I mean, punctures in the neck, the evidence is already there," Peter attempted to joke to alleviate the tension but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

The way her eyes widened before rushing to the back and stammering about cleaning up told him as much.

Again.

Weird.

•••

Peter wished he could say it stopped there but what he found tonight brought him some sort of an epiphany almost, a thing that made him slowly connect the dots.

It was the same as any other night of closing the shop, yet as they started to bid their goodbyes, her phone started to beep, loud and fast.

She hurriedly pulled it out of her jacket, took one look at it, and started sputtering her a reason he didn't catch and rushed off, gone before he could even do as much as a wave goodbye.

It was then that he realized that she had dropped something.

At first, he thought it was one of those defense weapons women usually bring with them when they walk at night—a long cylinder-shaped stick with a sharp end. But the more he examined it, the more questions he seemed to gather.

Why is it made of wood?

Is this a wooden stake?

Now, Peter had his moments but he wasn't completely clueless. The animal attacks, the rumors, her sudden nervousness about it, the silver cross necklace, the wooden stake, some woman saving people in the night—could it be?

Surely not…

Right?

•••

It's not creepy if I'm only making sure she's safe.

That was what Peter kept telling himself as he once again followed Elle as she made her way home. He'd been doing it for a couple of nights now, especially since the attacks had only increased. Right after helping her in closing the cafe, they would go their separate ways. Peter would bid his goodbyes as he returned her sentiment about getting home safe.

Yet he was not on his way home.

It might have been wrong to lie, but it was to keep her safe.

But more often than not, Peter somehow would always lose sight of her. Whenever he would look away for a split second, she would be gone. It was either she was quite fast on her feet or she knew how to vanish from thin air.

It only added to the list of odd things he had discovered about her.

Fine, he was making sure that she got home safe, and maybe he was trying to get answers, too.

Both things can be true at the same time, right?

There were simply too many coincidences for him to ignore.

Even more so when he caught her suddenly turning towards an empty alley.

But not for long.

Peter felt like his heart was about to jump out of his throat when he saw four men follow in right behind her.

He swung as quickly as he could, heart beating faster and louder at the thought of her being hurt…or worse.

But whatever scenario he was conjuring in his head, from good to bad to worse outcomes—he never expected this.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement.

It's not every day you see the girl you'd been crushing on take down one guy at a time, flawlessly and effortlessly, as if she could do this in her sleep.

She was mesmerizing.

Her strength was unmistakable as Peter watched her send a guy flying across the alley with a simple kick, swiftly swerving the other perpetrator behind her in one move before hitting them square on the nose and knocking them out.

Peter was awestruck.

Does she have powers?

The fight was already over when he got to her, landing just beside the building that covered any source of light.

Yet Peter's questions only seemed to grow as he watched her pull out a wooden stake from her coat—similar to the one she dropped—and started stabbing each unconscious man. He would've been shocked and scared by the brutality of her actions, that until these…men started turning into dust.

So the rumors were true, then?

"Who's there!"

Peter slowly came out of the shadows with his hands up in surrender, showing her that he wasn't a threat. Yet the second she saw him under the light she lowered her weapon.

"Spider-Man."

Peter tilted his head. "You know who I am?"

"Well, duh? New York's greatest defender? You've made quite a name for yourself," Ella said, crossing her arms over her chest as she raised a brow. "Should've just introduced yourself, you know, instead of following me every night."

"I—uh," he chuckled shyly, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that—"

"What? You think I wouldn't notice?" she snorted, amusement painting her features. "I'd like to believe I'm not that oblivious, given my line of work."

"Of course not I—" Peter didn't know what it was, but he decided right then and there that he might as well just go for it. "Elle, right?"

He expected her to be surprised. But instead, she merely narrowed her eyes at him as if to examine him.

"How'd you know?"

"Well…" he trailed off, grabbing the top of his mask and then pulling it off.

He flashed her a shy smile. "Hey.'

"Peter…" she breathed out, blinking for a few times before her grin widened. "I fucking knew it!"

Peter blinked.

"What?"

"That makes so much sense!" she added gleefully.

"Okay, wait no," Peter shook his head, glaring at her playfully as he crossed his arms. "Don't you dare say you had your suspicions."

"Oh I absolutely had my suspicions," she giggled, all adorable and proud. "Besides, Spider-Man following me home immediately after I say goodbye to you after closing the café?"

Peter let out a defeated sigh.

"Yeah, you aren't as slick as you think you are, Parker."

"You're not as careful as you think you are either," he retorted, tossing her the wooden stake she dropped a couple nights ago.

She caught it effortlessly.

"Huh, so that's where it went," she mused, laughing shyly. "I guess we both have our moments."

"So you're the slayer person?" Peter asked, walking closer to her.

"Vampire Slayer," she corrected.

Once he was close enough, he swiftly yet discreetly scanned her form to check if she was hurt, grateful that he didn't seem to see any visible injuries.

Still, ever the observant person—or maybe it was one of her powers, who knows—she still caught him. "Are you checking me out, Parker?"

"I'm making sure you're not hurt."

She blinked at him, surprised. She probably didn't expect him to be so blatantly honest.

"I'm not hurt," she reassured with a soft smile.

Peter mirrored her grin with a nod before narrowing his eyes. "What does 'Vampire Slayer' mean, exactly?"

She raised her brow at him. "It's literally on the name."

Peter deadpanned.

"What?" she giggled, reaching a hand up to settle his hair, made unruly by his mask.

He couldn't stop his heart from doing a silly little dance inside his chest, its warmth slowly seeping onto his cheeks.

"You know," he hummed, daring to place a hand on her waist. He couldn't stop his smile when she leaned a little closer. "You had me worried there for a second, thought you were in danger when I saw those men follow you in. Turns out, you didn't really need any help."

"Well, I'll have you know I'm not some damsel in distress," she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes.

"Never thought you were," he chuckled. 

"Besides, you're not the only one who has powers in this neighborhood," she said, grinning.

Peter didn't exactly know where the sudden burst of confidence was coming from. Maybe it was from the fact that his feelings for her were definitely confirmed by the fear he felt at the thought of her being in danger or hurt. Maybe he was just feeding off of her high energy and adrenaline. Either way, he didn't hesitate to shoot his shot.

"How about you tell me all about it over dinner? My treat."

"Is this your way of bribing me to spill my secrets?" she said with narrowed eyes. "Or are you so enthralled by my skills that you're asking me out on a date?"

"Why not both?"

"Shut up," she giggled. "About time you asked though. You can be kinda slow with hints sometimes."

Peter looked at her genuinely confused, "What hints?"

"Seriously?" she snorted. "I don't just give free coffee refills to anyone, mind you. It's technically not even allowed."

He grinned, placing his other hand on her waist and giving it a gentle squeeze. "What are you trying to say here exactly?"

"Uh…" She turned shy, then, eyes casted down. Peter could see she was trying to gain the courage to just say it out loud.

"That you like me, too?" he supplied instead, her eyes snapping back up to meet his.

"Too?"

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's slow when it comes to hints."

Peter felt his heart stutter at the way her smile brightened.

"So, pizza at my place?" she hummed, giggling. But then realization dawned on her face. "Oh wait. I still need to patrol."

"Same here. How about I come with," Peter offered. "Then we get pizza after."

"The Spider-Man needing my help?" she teased. "I thought I'd never see the day."

"Shut up" Peter rolled his eyes. "Now, hold tight."

"Why?" she asked confused, yet did so, anyway, wrapping her arms around his neck.

It made Peter feel warm, simply from the fact that she trusted him and his word enough.

Once he put on his mask and made sure she was secured, Peter didn't say another word as he hoisted them up and started swinging, her shrieks and expletives marrying with his boisterous laugh.

After roaming the city of New York and stopping any petty crime they came across—and killing two more vampires, a sight Peter still needed to get used to—they stopped at his apartment to get some stuff before crashing at her place for the night solely because it was bigger than his.

They might have skipped a few steps compared to any normal relationships—they were barely even there, frankly—but then again, nothing about them was normal to begin with, anyway.

For the rest of the evening, as they sat on her living room floor with two boxes of warm pizza sitting on the coffee table, Elle told Peter her story, and in return, he also shared pieces of his.

She got chosen—ironic since there wasn't even much of a choice—as a slayer when she was fifteen, and Peter shared that he got bitten by a radioactive spider at that age, too. She shared how she was given these powers that basically made her an enhanced individual which led to a playful arm wrestling match to see who was stronger. Peter ended up losing solely because he was too scared to hurt her, especially when he himself wasn't fully aware at what level his strength truly was.

She got all pouty about it but it was immediately pushed aside when Peter said she looked so cute when she was pouting.

He got a pepperoni in the face when he wouldn't stop teasing her about it.

But aside from the witches, vampires and demons alike—which was how Peter learned Wanda was actually a witch instead of a mutant—the two of them are surprisingly so similar in some ways. They already clicked before, and now, they seemed to have a lot in common when it came to their second life as well.

They also shared sentiments as to how lonely this life could be sometimes and it was like a breath of fresh air for Peter to have someone understand him. Maybe not to the fullest of extents since whatever this was between them was new, but understand him, nonetheless.

It was safe to say Peter was glad he came into the café later than when he usually did that day.

Fascinating how changing one small thing in a routine could have a profound impact on a person's life, huh?

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[hellohailu]

exo suho (수호) — kim junmyeon (김준면)

• gold / nude ocean aesthetic moodboard

• it's for a merfolk alternate universe that i have in my head and will probably never finish...

hope you like it, and please don't hesitate to send me a request if you'd like a moodboard !

[puppppppppy]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously