#i have THOUGHTS. i have HALF A WEB WEAVE.

[plusultraetc]

.

[sunsetsover]

im finally rewatching ep 3 and i remembered that i meant to make a post abt how captain christ is sus as hell. as in this whole scheme he's got going with kant to me feels less like a legitimate (or as close to legit as it can be given the circumstances) investigation into a string of high profile murders and more like some kind of personal vendetta he has, maybe even w lilly specifically. and i have no basis for that other than how odd christ's reaction was when kant told him fadel and bison have different dads. idk the vibes are just off. there's something not right abt him. the whole situation stinks.

speaking of lilly tho i don't believe for one minute she's got her sons out there ridding the streets of bad men in some act of vigilante justice. bison literally calls it out in the first scene, saying that he'd seen their next target helping poor kids on the news or whatever. and yeah ok bad men often do good deeds, and ofc lilly uses that to try to belittle bison by saying that he's always been easily fooled by appearances. which is a little on the nose given the whole kant thing, but i think that actually the point was that she's referring to herself. as in she's the one doing the fooling this whole time w her conditional kindness and her weaponised warmth. helping poor kids while doing bad things behind the scenes. yknow. a common modus operandi in these circles i'm sure.

anyways my original point is that she tries to make out bison is naive and silly for even asking but at the same time the reasoning she offers them for why that guy has to die is vague as fuck. 'he's the man behind corruptions, drugs, human trafficking, and so much more'??? she might as well have said he steals food straight out of the mouths of the kids he claims to be helping too seeing as tho we're just saying shit. like girl cmon. you're an entrepreneur. i know you've trained those boys not to question you at all but lets try a little bit harder queen <3

i also do think lilly had smth to do w whatever happened to fadel's ex and that that might be why he lied to her when she asked if bison is seeing someone. at least partially. if he knows what she's capable of in that sense then he'd want to keep that shit under wraps, not for kant's sake but for bison's. i've said it before but bison's ignorance only exists bc fadel has worked his ass off to keep it that way. i feel like fadel knows, or at least suspects, that lilly isn't the woman she wants them to believe she is. but ofc fadel isn't gonna tell bison that. ignorance is bliss, and even if it wasn't that's their mother. her and bison clearly have a (relatively) warm relationship. fadel wouldn't want to ruin that with the truth.

also i don't trust style's dad either. why include a character in the intro that is seemingly so unimportant? what the fuck is up with the whole 'boonterm' thing? style's dad is obviously at LEAST mechanic running in these 'bad guy' circles considering style had to drop off the secretary's car to her. which like. idk what kinda bougie ass mechanics rich ppl be having but having your car dropped off to you - by the mechanic's son no less - at some random host bar instead of having to go pick it up seems like special treatment. like maybe it's not just a simple mechanic/customer relationship yk

and u know what as i'm typing this i'm thinking about the spiderweb motif that occurs in the show, first in kant's tattoo and then with keen in the intro (and he has spiderweb tattoos too i think?) and how everyone speculated they may be exes and maybe they are. but like. i also think it's more than that. like i just think that in this show there are a lot of people caught in a lot of webs who haven't yet realised they're the fly, not the spider. yknow.

[winterlico]

LATE NIGHT ᰔ sim jaeyun .ᐟ

﹙ masterlist﹚──── sim jaeyun x fem!reader ⚡︎ fluff , mention kiss , make out ⸝⸝ 運命 ◦ aprox 88303 wc ‼

feedbacks ୨୧ reblogs

The night air feels cool against your skin as you walk alone across the quiet campus, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the concrete. You’ve stayed late at the library again, buried under the weight of microbiology textbooks and lab reports. It's almost 2 AM, and the campus is mostly empty, save for a few students rushing to their late-night study spots or the occasional campus security guard making their rounds.

You’d been lost in your thoughts when the sudden sound of crashing and fighting from a nearby alley snaps you out of your daze. It’s not the usual late-night chaos, though—it sounds… different. More intense. You hesitate for a moment, your curiosity pulling you toward the noise.

Just as you approach the corner of the campus building, you freeze. A figure, clad in a red-and-blue suit, is weaving in and out of shadows, effortlessly dodging punches from a group of thugs who clearly don’t stand a chance.

Spider-Man. You’ve heard the rumors, seen the viral videos online. You never thought you’d actually encounter him, especially not this close. And not this late.

Your heart races, half from excitement, half from fear, as you stand rooted to the spot. The way Spider-Man swings through the alley, his movements so smooth, almost like he’s dancing, makes your breath catch in your throat. You can’t look away. His webbing, gleaming in the dim light, zips around and disarms one of the attackers, sending him stumbling backward.

Your eyes follow his movements with awe, but then, something happens that you didn’t expect. Spider-Man pauses for a brief moment, his chest heaving as he pulls his mask off, just slightly, to take a breath. The alleyway is silent for a split second, and in that instant, you see his face.

You freeze, eyes widening. It’s him. The guy from your biology class—Jake. You’d noticed him before, his quiet confidence and the way he carried himself. You had never suspected him to be, well, Spider-Man.

Jake, realizing what he just did, seems to snap back to reality. His eyes meet yours across the alley. A brief, awkward moment hangs in the air before he swears under his breath, pulling the mask back over his face. “Uh… not what I meant to do,” he mutters, clearing his throat.

You stand there, frozen, unsure if you should say anything. His posture is tense, shoulders squared as he awkwardly shifts his weight. There’s no denying it now—he’s Spider-Man.

“Jake?” you say, voice barely above a whisper, still trying to process everything. "You... you're—"

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” he says quickly, still trying to avoid eye contact. "I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. You should... probably head back to your dorm. It's not exactly safe around here."

You blink in disbelief, still not sure how to respond. “But… you just—” Your voice trails off, a thousand questions rushing to your mind. "You're—Spider-Man."

He nods, looking sheepish for a moment. “Yeah. I kinda have a thing for keeping the city safe.” His tone is casual, as though casually revealing his secret identity isn't the least bit weird. “Guess I’m not as good at this stealth thing as I thought.”

You take a step closer, still in shock. "You… you just fought off a group of guys. What are you—?"

“Just trying to keep things from going sideways,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “You know how it is. Some nights, the bad guys just don’t want to stay in their lane.”

“I can’t believe this,” you mumble, a little breathless. “You’re Spider-Man. You’re, like, a superhero.”

Jake shrugs, his typical confident smirk returning to his lips. “Well, yeah, but I’d prefer ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,’ if you’re asking for preferences. It’s a bit less… dramatic.”

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. “This is insane. How long have you been… doing this?”

He tilts his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief now. “Long enough to get pretty good at it. But I’ve always managed to keep my two worlds separate. Until now, I guess.”

“Yeah, now you’ve got me to keep a secret,” you reply, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your lips.

He gives you a playful look, raising an eyebrow. “Guess you’ll have to be careful, princess. Not everyone can handle the truth. Especially when you’re not supposed to know.”

“You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you?” you ask, your smile widening.

“You bet,” he says with a grin, his tone light but affectionate. “Now that you know my secret, you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension from the strange situation beginning to ease. “I think I can handle a little teasing. You’re lucky I’m not calling the cops on you.”

Jake chuckles, clearly relieved. “I don’t think that would go over well. Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun.” He shoots you a wink, his usual cocky self returning in full force.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny the way your heart flutters at the way he looks at you, even with his mask on. You’ve always admired him from afar, but this? This was something else entirely.

As the sound of sirens approaches in the distance, Jake stands tall, ready to leave. “You should head back to your dorm, princess. I’ll take care of the rest here.”

“Be careful, okay?” you say, your voice softening. There’s something about this whole situation—his vulnerability, his strength, the way he’s trying to keep it all together—that makes you want to say more, but you don’t.

He flashes a grin, nodding. “Always am. And hey… if you need anything, I’ll be around.” His wink is mischievous, but there’s a warmth in his gaze that makes your heart race even faster.

You watch as he swings up into the night, the distant sound of his webs twirling around filling the air. It all feels surreal, like you’re still caught in some strange dream. And yet, as you make your way back to your dorm, you can’t help but smile. Jake had just pulled off the biggest plot twist of your life, and you’re pretty sure this was only the beginning.

The air is still warm from the day’s heat, and the night feels like it’s just beginning to settle in as you walk back from the grocery store, your arms weighed down with bags. You’ve had a long day at the lab, and all you want now is to get back to your dorm, eat something quick, and maybe relax for a bit. The street is dimly lit, only a few other students walking to their own destinations, and the quiet of the campus feels peaceful, almost comforting. You hum softly to yourself, oblivious to the footsteps behind you that seem to follow just a little too closely.

As you round the corner near your dorm, a chill runs up your spine. You can feel it now, the tension in the air. Something isn’t right. You pick up your pace, glancing around, but it’s too late. The men step out from the shadows, blocking your way. You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as one of them pulls a knife from his pocket, the blade gleaming under the streetlight.

“Hey, princess,” one of them sneers, his breath foul in the still night. “Looks like you’ve got some pretty nice bags there. Hand them over, and maybe we won’t make a mess.”

Your stomach drops. You can feel the panic rising, but you try to stay calm. You’ve never been in a situation like this before, and you’re not sure how to handle it. The knife in the man’s hand glints, and the other one takes a step forward, closing the distance between you.

“Please,” you say, your voice trembling. “I don’t want any trouble. Just take the bags.”

“Smart choice, but not enough,” the man with the knife growls. “You don’t get to decide anything here.”

You back up a little, but your mind is racing, trying to figure out how to escape. You know you can’t outrun them. You feel a familiar panic bubble in your chest—this is real, and there’s nowhere to hide.

But just as one of the men reaches for the bag, you hear it. A soft thwip sound in the air, followed by a loud crash as something crashes into the ground behind you. The men are distracted for just a second, looking over their shoulders, and in that moment, a figure swings down from the nearby building. You barely have time to process what’s happening before you’re pulled into the strong embrace of someone, their arm wrapping tightly around your waist.

“Did you miss me, princess?” Jake’s voice comes through the dark, warm and teasing, but there’s an edge of protectiveness in it that makes your heart skip a beat.

You look up at him, his familiar red-and-blue suit shining faintly in the streetlight, his mask pulled down just far enough that his eyes lock with yours.

“Jake?” you whisper, your breath caught in your throat. The realization hits you all at once. You almost can’t believe it—again. It’s him.

But there’s no time for explanations. The thugs are already recovering from the surprise of his sudden appearance. One of them lunges forward with the knife aimed right for Jake’s chest, but Jake’s quick, his reflexes honed from countless close calls. He dodges, twisting around and sending a webbing shot that wraps around the man’s wrist, pulling him off balance. With a swift motion, Jake kicks the man to the ground, leaving him groaning in pain.

The second attacker tries to make a run for it, but Jake doesn’t give him a chance. In one smooth move, he launches himself forward, webs shooting from his wrists and pinning the guy against the brick wall of the dorm. You watch in awe as Jake effortlessly takes control of the situation, even as the men struggle beneath his hold.

“Not so tough now, huh?” Jake taunts, his voice laced with playful confidence. He stands over the two thugs, surveying them with an almost casual expression. “You should know better than to mess with someone’s girlfriend. Especially my girlfriend.”

You blink, your heart skipping at the way he says it, the way he casually claims you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. His tone isn’t possessive, but the tenderness behind the words is unmistakable.

But before you can respond, he turns his attention back to the criminals, his body moving in a blur as he effortlessly subdues them, tying them up with webbing and making sure they can’t escape. Within seconds, they’re left incapacitated, groaning on the ground, helpless.

“Done and done,” Jake says, his tone light as he walks back toward you. His mask pulls down over his face fully again, but his eyes still find yours. “You okay, princess?”

You nod, still stunned by everything happening so quickly. “Yeah. I think so. I just… I can’t believe you showed up. You saved me.”

Jake grins, that familiar mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I’ve got my eye on you, remember? You’re my responsibility now.”

You swallow, heart still racing from the adrenaline, but there's something comforting about his words, the way he stands in front of you, making you feel like you’re safe despite everything. His presence alone is enough to calm the storm in your chest.

“I guess this is part of your superhero gig, huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood, even though you’re still a little shaken.

“You got it,” Jake says, chuckling as he steps closer.

“But you should know, I’ve got a pretty personal interest in protecting you now.” He pauses, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. “Don’t go wandering off at night again. It’s dangerous out here.”

“I won’t,” you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake smirks, then without warning, he reaches for your hand, gently pulling you close to his side. “Good. Now, how about we get you home safe and sound, princess?”

Your heart skips again as you look up at him, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

You walk with him toward your dorm, the weight of the grocery bags almost forgotten, your mind still racing with everything that just happened. But as Jake keeps you close, his hand never leaving yours, the world suddenly feels a little safer. It’s not just about the bad guys anymore. It’s about him, and the way he makes you feel like nothing could ever go wrong with him by your side.

You’re still trying to process what just happened—your near-mugging, the way Jake swooped in, effortlessly neutralizing the threat, and now, standing in front of you with that signature grin of his. The adrenaline is still pumping in your veins, and your heart is pounding, not just from the close call but from the way Jake has completely thrown you off balance.

You should be taking a breath, maybe calling the authorities, or even just walking back to your dorm to recover. But instead, Jake is standing there, eyes gleaming with that mischievous spark, as if the world’s danger doesn’t even faze him. His tone is casual when he speaks, though there’s something more playful underneath it, something you can’t quite place.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, teasing, “since I’m already here… How about I take you home in style?”

Your heart skips a beat, the words barely registering in your brain before the rest of what he says sinks in.

“Style?” you repeat, blinking at him, still trying to catch your breath. “How… what do you mean?”

Jake’s grin widens, and before you can fully process the situation, before you can even think about arguing or running away, he does the last thing you expect.

One smooth motion, and you’re scooped up effortlessly in his arms. Your breath catches in your throat, panic flooding in as you instinctively grab onto his shoulder. “Jake—! Wait, no—!” You try to pull away, but his grip on you is firm, secure.

“Relax, princess,” he says, his voice teasing. “This will be fun, I promise.”

Your pulse races as the world shifts beneath you. You don’t have time to respond before Jake leaps off the ground. The wind rushes past you, your feet no longer touching the ground. The sharp sensation of flying fills your senses as he swings between buildings with you still cradled in his arms. You yelp in surprise, your heart leaping into your throat. You’ve never experienced anything like this—never thought you’d be soaring through the night sky like this.

“Jake!” you shout, gripping him tighter, your body instinctively tensing at the rush of the swing. Your eyes are squeezed shut as your heart races, the wind tearing past you too fast for your brain to keep up.

Jake’s laughter echoes above the sounds of the city, clear and carefree. “Don’t worry, princess, I’ve got you.” He shifts slightly, adjusting the way he’s holding you to make sure you feel secure, though the way your body is pressed so close to his only intensifies the wild thrumming in your chest.

It’s not until the next swing, when the world blurs in a rush of neon lights, that you dare open your eyes.

The city sprawls beneath you, like a million little lights scattered across a dark canvas. The buildings rise high, their sharp silhouettes glowing against the dark sky. The streets below are quiet, almost peaceful, and for a moment, it’s as if you’re outside of time. You can see everything—the bustling city, the people moving like tiny dots below you. It feels surreal, like something out of a dream.

The initial shock starts to wear off, replaced by something else, something more exciting, as your grip on Jake’s shoulder slowly loosens. Your eyes widen at the breathtaking view before you, and with the night air rushing past you, you can’t help but let out a soft laugh, the thrill of it all sinking in.

“This is… this is crazy,” you breathe, your voice trembling, but not from fear anymore. From exhilaration. You can feel your body relaxing into his arms as you start to get used to the rhythm, the swings between the buildings, the pull of gravity, and the rush of flying through the night.

Jake glances at you from the corner of his eye, still grinning, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Told you. It’s like nothing else, right?”

You nod, still wide-eyed. “I didn’t expect this. I’ve never—”

“Never flown between buildings like this, huh?” Jake interrupts with a playful tone. “It’s a first for everyone. But I’m glad you’re not freaking out.” He flashes you a wink, his cocky grin back in full force.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m too dazed to freak out,” you mutter, looking down again at the city lights below you. It’s like you’re suspended in time, the whole world below you both still and peaceful.

Jake’s voice drops lower, more thoughtful now as you continue to swing. “There’s something about the city at night. Everything feels different from up here. Feels… right, you know?”

You look at him, a little surprised by the shift in his tone. There’s something soft in his gaze as he looks at you, something more than the usual teasing or playful banter. It’s just the two of you up here, suspended in the air, and for a moment, you feel a strange kind of connection—a shared understanding.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your heart still fluttering. “I think I get it now.”

Jake smiles, but it’s softer this time, a subtle warmth in the way his eyes linger on you. “You’re braver than I thought, princess. Not a lot of people could hang on this long without panicking.”

You can’t help but laugh, a little embarrassed. “Well, when you’re Spider-Man, I guess you kind of have to keep up, huh?”

Jake laughs with you, his voice light and carefree, and you feel the tension from earlier slip away. With every swing, the city below you seems more alive, the world seems more exciting, more full of possibility. In Jake’s arms, you feel a sense of comfort, despite the insanity of it all.

As you continue to swing through the night, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this crazy ride isn’t so bad after all.

The air feels charged as Jake swings through the city, his movements fluid, graceful, like a part of the night itself. You’re still wrapped up in his arms, the wind whipping around you as he deftly maneuvers between towering buildings. Every twist and turn has your heart racing again, but not out of fear this time—out of exhilaration. The grip you have on his shoulder has loosened entirely now, your arms still around him but relaxed, and you're actually enjoying the sensation of flying.

As you approach your apartment building, you can feel the change in the atmosphere, the pace slowing down as the towering structures of the city give way to smaller buildings and quieter streets. The lights here are softer, the night air a little cooler, and it feels more like you’re heading into a familiar place, not something far away or foreign like the dizzying heights of downtown.

Jake’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. "We’re almost there," he says, his tone relaxed, the usual mischievousness still present but softer now. He doesn’t need to remind you; you can tell by the way he adjusts his swings that he’s already figured out where your apartment is.

Your apartment building comes into view—a sleek, modern structure in the middle of the city, its glass windows reflecting the soft glow of streetlights. The familiar sight of it comforts you a little, grounding you after the wild ride.

"Hold on," Jake warns, his grip tightening slightly on your waist as he starts to decelerate. You nod instinctively, your arms tightening around his neck just to make sure you don’t lose balance.

With expert precision, Jake swings to a stop just a few yards away from the entrance of your building. The motion is so smooth that, for a moment, you almost forget that you’ve been soaring through the air like Spider-Man’s sidekick. He sets you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist for just a second longer than necessary as he steadies you.

You stumble a little, catching your breath and trying to steady yourself. The world feels like it’s still moving even though your feet are back on solid ground. Jake watches you with a soft grin, his eyes warm, almost like he’s trying to gauge your reaction.

"Not bad, huh?" he says, his tone teasing but affectionate.

You take a deep breath, still trying to get your bearings. “That was… insane,” you manage to say, your heart still racing, but the excitement isn’t fading. It’s lingering, buzzing beneath your skin.

You glance at him, trying to put your thoughts together. "I never thought I’d be doing that... not in a million years. It was... incredible."

Jake’s grin widens, and there’s a flash of pride in his eyes. "I told you, you’d get used to it. Besides, I make a pretty good tour guide, don’t I?" He winks, clearly amused by the situation.

You roll your eyes, but it’s playful. "You know, you’re insufferable," you say, trying to hide your smile, but it’s not really working. The way he’s looking at you makes your heart flutter.

Jake shrugs, his expression shifting to something softer, more genuine now. "Hey, I can’t help it if I’m good at what I do."

He gives you a quick, teasing nudge with his shoulder. "But seriously, I’m glad you’re okay. You’re… pretty tough for someone who looks so harmless."

Your heart skips at his words, and you look away quickly, not sure how to respond. But before you can think too much about it, Jake’s voice cuts through the silence again, playful but with a hint of something more.

"Well, I guess I better let you go inside now," he says, his smile lingering as he takes a small step back, allowing you to move toward your apartment’s door.

You hesitate, your fingers still curled slightly where they rested on his shoulder. The warmth of his presence is still there, lingering, and for a moment, you don’t want to let him go. You don’t know what to say—what to do—but the lingering tension between you both is undeniable.

"Jake…" you start, but the words trail off. You try to meet his gaze, but your cheeks flush, and you look down at your feet, still unsure of what to say.

He doesn’t rush you, though. Instead, he steps closer again, his hand reaching out for yours, his touch warm and reassuring.

"Yeah?"

His voice is soft now, and you can feel his proximity, his presence making everything feel just a little more intense. He looks at you with an unreadable expression, the teasing tone from before replaced with something else. Something quieter.

You feel your heartbeat quicken again, unsure of the moment but still wanting to say something—anything. But as you open your mouth, ready to speak, Jake cuts you off, his voice just barely above a whisper.

"You’re safe now, princess," he says, the words carrying more weight than before, as if he’s letting you know how much he means it. “I’ll always make sure of that.”

His gaze softens as he holds your eyes for a long moment, and something shifts between you. It’s like everything is finally clicking into place, like the chaos of the night has settled into a peaceful, if confusing, calm.

Before you can process it, Jake leans forward, his lips brushing your cheek in a soft, quick kiss. It's barely there, but the effect is immediate—your heart skips, your mind goes blank for a split second, and when you pull back, you see him grinning at you, that same mischievous spark back in his eyes.

“That’s my good deed for the night,” he teases, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, though there's something more in it now. His fingers linger on your hand for a moment before he steps back, giving you space.

You blink, still caught off guard by the sudden gesture. "Jake, what—" You start to say, but he’s already stepping back, that same cocky grin back on his face.

"I'll see you around, princess," he says casually, his voice full of that teasing warmth you’ve come to expect. "You’re safe now. You can head inside. Get some rest."

And before you can even respond, he’s already turning away, his figure melting into the shadows as he swings off into the night, leaving you standing there, feeling a little lost and a lot confused.

You stand there for a long moment, the cool night air pressing against your skin, the softness of his kiss still lingering on your cheek. What just happened? You shake your head, still feeling the rush, still caught in the mix of emotions. Maybe you will get some rest after all... but Jake definitely isn’t helping your mind settle.

With a sigh, you finally unlock the door to your apartment and step inside, your heart still racing, your thoughts swirling.

It’s late again, another night that started out mundane and calm, but turned into something far more chaotic. You’d been wrapping up a late-night study session in the library and decided to walk back to your apartment after grabbing a quick snack. The usual peace of the campus at night, the soft hum of the streetlights, is suddenly interrupted as you turn a corner and find yourself face to face with a group of men blocking your path.

It doesn’t take long to recognize the danger when one of them steps too close, a grin stretching across his face as his gaze lingers far too long on you. His tone is slow, deliberate, like he’s sizing you up. "Hey there, pretty thing. Out for a walk all alone at this hour?"

You freeze, heart racing, eyes darting around, trying to assess your options. But before you can react, another one of them steps forward, his hand reaching toward you. The touch is far too close, and your breath hitches in your throat. Panic begins to bubble in your chest.

And that’s when you hear it—the sound of a thud, followed by the unmistakable, familiar voice.

"You’re not going anywhere."

Jake. He’s here. Again.

You blink, and in the next moment, you’re already being pulled behind him, the sound of his web-slinging catching the air as he lands with a perfect crouch between you and the men.

“You should’ve stayed out of this,” Jake’s voice is dangerously low, filled with a sharp edge you’ve never heard before. The usual teasing lilt is gone, replaced by something possessive. You’re used to Jake’s antics, his mischievous grin, his cocky swagger—but this, this is different.

The group of men stumbles back a few steps, and one of them mutters something under his breath, clearly not prepared for this. The tension in the air is thick, every muscle in Jake’s body coiled with protective intent. You don’t need to see his face to know his jaw is clenched, his fists tight by his side, ready to act if necessary.

The one who had gotten too close to you sneers, stepping forward, but Jake is faster, his movements a blur. With a quick flick of his wrist, a strand of web shoots out, yanking the guy backward into a trash bin with a satisfying crash.

The remaining two men hesitate, clearly unsure if they should fight or run. They glance at each other, but before they can make their decision, Jake’s voice slices through the night again, steady, commanding.

“Don’t make me ask twice,” he says, the warning clear. "Leave. Now."

And just like that, they turn tail and bolt, disappearing into the shadows of the alley. Your heart is racing, but your body relaxes just a little as the threat disappears. You’ve been through this enough by now to know Jake’s got everything under control.

Still, your hands tremble slightly as you try to collect yourself, still shaken by the incident. You glance up at Jake, who’s standing just a few feet away, his posture rigid, his attention focused entirely on you.

He doesn’t move at first, only watches you with that intensity that always seems to make your heart skip. His gaze softens slightly when he sees how shaken you are, but the possessiveness is still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

You take a small step forward, your voice small but steady, “Jake, you— you didn’t have to… you didn’t need to go that far…”

Jake’s eyes flicker, and then his lips curl into a soft smirk, but there’s something in the way he looks at you now that makes your breath catch. He steps closer, reaching out for your hand, but it’s not to pull you in for a comforting hug like he usually does. No, this time, his fingers brush over the back of your hand, a subtle claim.

“I do what I want, princess,” he says, his voice lower than usual, thick with emotion you can’t quite place. “And you’re my responsibility. You think I’m going to let anyone touch you like that?”

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. There’s something in his eyes, something protective that you’ve never seen this intensely before. You’re not sure how to react to it—how to process it, even.

Before you can say anything, Jake’s hand gently pulls you toward him. You step into him, your body instinctively seeking his warmth, his safety. He leans down slightly, his breath warm on your ear, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. The feeling is overwhelming, and you let out a shaky breath, feeling his heartbeat through his suit.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, the tension in his voice now softening. His fingers find your chin, lifting it gently so that your eyes meet his. “Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, though your voice trembles a little. You can feel his protective energy still surrounding you, but you don’t want to seem weak. Not now.

He doesn’t seem to believe you, though. His thumb brushes over your cheek, the touch gentle but deliberate. “I don’t like seeing you scared,” he mutters, his voice laced with an emotion you’re starting to understand. “Don’t like anyone laying a hand on you. You hear me?”

You nod, your breath catching again at the way his eyes darken with something more intense than you’re used to seeing. You’ve always known he cared for you, but this? This is different. This is possessive, raw… personal.

He steps back for a moment, and you watch as his posture shifts, like he’s about to leave. But before you can process it, Jake takes a step forward, his hands cupping your face carefully.

You don’t have time to react before his lips are pressed gently to your cheek, soft and lingering. It’s quick, but there’s something intense about it, like he’s reaffirming his presence in your life. The warmth of his lips makes your heart flutter, and you can’t help the little sigh that escapes you.

Before you can say anything, Jake pulls back, his eyes locking with yours. His grin is softer now, less cocky, and more… genuine. The possessive edge is still there, but there’s a tenderness now that makes your heart beat a little faster.

“Get inside, princess,” he says, his voice quieter now, like he’s trying to ground himself after all the chaos. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”

You nod, your chest still tight from everything that happened. But there’s something reassuring about him, something in the way he holds you, in the way he never lets go. You start to walk toward the entrance of your building, but Jake follows closely behind, his presence never straying too far from you.

Before you reach the door, he stops you one last time.

"Hey," Jake says, his voice a little sheepish now, though his eyes are still burning with that protective fire. “A kiss on my cheek, princess? For a job well done?”

You stop and turn back toward him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re asking for a kiss now?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, but you can see the playful twinkle in his eyes. ��What can I say? I’m a hero. I’m entitled to one.”

You stare at him for a second, the weight of everything still heavy between you two. But then, without thinking too much about it, you step forward and press a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary.

Jake’s eyes widen slightly, a pleased smile creeping across his face as you pull away. His eyes soften as he leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, as if claiming it just as much as he claimed your heart.

“I’ll make sure you’re safe, princess,” he whispers softly, his voice barely audible now, but you hear the promise in it.

You smile, feeling your heart flutter for him all over again as you step inside your apartment, a strange warmth spreading through your chest as you close the door behind you. Jake may have been a hero tonight, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were becoming his hero, too.

It’s late, the kind of quiet that wraps around you like a soft, heavy blanket. You’ve just gotten into bed, the weight of the day finally catching up with you as you settle into the cozy warmth of your apartment. Your mind is still a little restless, running over thoughts of schoolwork, the things you need to do tomorrow, and of course, Jake. You haven’t seen him in a couple of days—he’s been elusive, but that’s nothing new. You understand; it’s his mysterious nature that makes him… well, him.

Just as you’re about to close your eyes, a sound interrupts the silence—a soft, rhythmic tap-tap-tap at your window. You freeze, heart jumping in your chest, and for a split second, your mind runs through the list of possible explanations. Could it be an animal? Maybe the wind?

But then, another tap, a little louder this time, followed by a distinct creaking sound as something shifts in the air. It takes you a moment to realize what’s happening, but when you finally do, your heart skips a beat.

You jump out of bed, rushing to the window. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.

Spiderman—Jake—is hanging upside down just outside your window. His suit is torn in multiple places, bruises marring his face and limbs, and blood is splattered across his chest, dripping down in thick streaks. His usually vibrant mask is barely hanging on, with one side of it barely clinging to his face.

Panic rises in your chest like a tidal wave. You don’t even think twice before pulling the window open, your hands shaking as you grip the edges.

“Jake!” you whisper-yell, trying to keep the panic in your voice at bay as you quickly push the window wider. “What the hell happened?”

He tilts his head slightly, his face still obscured by his mask, but you can see his eyes, faintly glowing in the dim light. His usual confident smirk is nowhere to be found. Instead, his lips are pressed into a thin line, his breathing heavy and labored. He swings himself inside, collapsing lightly onto your bed in an uncoordinated way.

“Could’ve warned me before you came crashing through the window,” you mutter, though your voice cracks with worry as you kneel beside him. “What happened to you, Jake? You look—you look awful.”

He gives you a weak, almost painful chuckle, but it sounds strained, as though even that small movement took everything out of him. “I’m fine, princess. Just… had a run-in with a couple of new guys,” he says, voice laced with exhaustion.

You ignore him, your hands already reaching for the nearby med kit you keep on the shelf for emergencies like this—though you never imagined this would be the reason you’d use it. As you pull out gauze, antiseptic, and bandages, your mind races. You’ve seen him hurt before, but this is different. This time, it feels personal. He looks vulnerable, and it makes your heart ache in a way you can’t explain.

You gently tug at the edge of his mask, and though he doesn’t protest, you can tell he’s trying to hold on to whatever pride he has left. You pull it off, revealing the familiar face you’ve come to know so well. His hair is messy, sweat beading on his forehead, and those sharp, alluring features are softened by exhaustion. His eyes are unfocused for a moment, as though he’s still struggling to come back to reality after whatever fight he’s just survived.

"Jake," you murmur, sitting next to him on the bed, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "You’re hurt. I need to clean you up, okay?"

He gives you a soft nod, too tired to say anything, and you don’t waste another second. You start with his arm, gently cleaning the blood away as carefully as you can. The sight of him—torn, vulnerable, and trusting you enough to let you do this—pulls at your heartstrings. You can feel his muscles tense every now and then, but he doesn’t complain. You think he’s probably too exhausted to even speak.

“You really know how to make an entrance, don’t you?” you say softly, trying to inject some humor into the situation to lighten the mood.

Jake chuckles weakly, his voice hoarse. “Well, it’s not exactly my first choice of grand entrances… but it works.”

You let out a short laugh, your fingers moving to his chest next, carefully dabbing at the gashes and bruises there. He hisses a little as you touch one of the deeper cuts, his jaw clenched, but he doesn’t pull away. You bite your lip, trying not to show how much his pain is affecting you.

“You’re not fine,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him, your fingers now gently pressing the gauze against his ribs to stop the bleeding. “You’re hurt… badly.”

He glances over at you, his eyes softening just a little, and for the first time, you see a flicker of vulnerability that he normally hides so well behind the mask. “You’re right,” he admits quietly. “But I’ll be fine. You always take care of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, princess.”

Your heart swells at the softness in his voice, and you try to ignore the way his words make your stomach flutter. You focus instead on taking care of him, cleaning his wounds, bandaging him up with steady hands.

“There,” you say, pulling back and looking at your work, “that should hold for now. I’ll have to check your other injuries, but… you need to rest. And I need you to stop throwing yourself into dangerous situations.”

Jake leans back, leaning against the edge of the bed with a soft sigh of relief. “I’m not a kid, princess. I can take care of myself.” He pauses, glancing at you with a flicker of something behind his eyes. “But… I don’t mind you taking care of me.”

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. “Oh, you don’t mind, huh? Well, don’t get used to it.”

Jake smirks, though his expression is softer than usual, more grateful than teasing. “You know you love it,” he murmurs, his eyes almost sparkling with exhaustion and amusement.

You lean back slightly, still worried but trying to ease the tension. “I love making sure you don’t bleed out on my bed.”

He chuckles weakly, his head resting back against the wall behind him. “Fair enough.” He closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath. “Thanks, princess. You’re the best.”

Your chest warms, a mix of worry and fondness flooding you. You glance at him, taking in the sight of him sitting there, tired and bruised, but still him. Jake. Your Jake. You wish you could keep him out of harm’s way forever, but you know that’s impossible. He’s not just Jake; he’s Spider-Man. And no matter how much it hurts to see him like this, you know he wouldn’t change a thing.

But for now, you’re content to just sit next to him, making sure he’s okay, knowing that—no matter what comes next—you’ll always be here for him.

The soft moonlight filters in through the window, casting gentle shadows across the room. You’re still processing everything—the way he crashed through your window, his bruised and battered body, the way he insisted on being fine despite it all. But now, with him lying next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you close, you can’t help but feel a strange mixture of relief and concern.

You let out a soft sigh, turning slightly to look at Jake, who’s still awake beside you, his head resting against the pillow. His eyes are closed, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, like he’s content to just be here, with you.

"Jake," you murmur softly, your fingers tracing small circles on his chest, trying to steady your thoughts. "Are you really okay?"

He exhales a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. "You’ve asked me that a thousand times tonight, princess," he teases lightly, his voice husky with exhaustion. "I told you I’m fine."

You roll your eyes, still not convinced. "You’re not fine. You’re covered in bruises and bleeding all over the place. Don’t lie to me." You feel the heat of his body against yours, his warmth strangely comforting. But the worry still lingers in the back of your mind, twisting your insides.

Jake opens his eyes then, his gaze soft but serious as he looks down at you. "I’m sorry, okay? I didn't want to worry you," he admits, his voice low. "But I guess I failed at that, huh?"

You nod, though your heart sinks a little at the vulnerability in his voice. "You always try to protect me, don’t you?" you say quietly, your voice almost a whisper. "But who’s gonna protect you when you get hurt like this?"

Jake’s eyes flicker with something unreadable, but then he gives you a soft, almost tender smile. "I’m the one who’s supposed to be the hero here, remember?" he jokes, though there’s no real humor in his tone this time. "Guess I can’t help it if I need saving every now and then."

You shake your head, the feeling of helplessness creeping up on you. "You’re not invincible, Jake. You can’t do it all alone."

He shifts, propping himself up slightly on one elbow so he can look at you better. "I’m not alone, princess," he says seriously. "I’ve got you. I’ll always have you."

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, warmth flooding your chest. You bite your lip, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d probably lecture you about taking better care of yourself," you tease, but your tone is softer now, more affectionate.

Jake grins, his expression relaxing as he leans in slightly, his forehead gently touching yours. "I know, I know. But I’ll let you lecture me when I’m not bleeding out." He laughs, a little chuckle that makes your heart flutter. "You’re the best, you know that? Even when you’re mad at me."

You push him lightly, though you can’t help but smile back at him. "I’m not mad, I’m just… worried. You scare me sometimes, you know that?" Your voice comes out more fragile than you intended, and you immediately regret it.

Jake’s smile falters for just a moment, a fleeting shadow crossing his features. Then, without warning, he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you. "I don’t want to scare you," he murmurs softly, his voice low and soothing. "I promise, I’ll try not to. I just… I have to do this. It’s who I am."

"I know," you say, your voice quieter now, the weight of everything finally hitting you. "I just… wish you didn’t have to do it alone."

You can feel his chest rise and fall with his breath, his fingers lightly brushing against the small of your back. "I’m not alone. Not anymore."

The words settle between you, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. Just the sound of your breathing and the quiet hum of the night filling the room. It’s strange, but comforting. Like this moment, as fragile as it is, is enough.

You finally let yourself relax into his embrace, feeling his warmth and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. "Jake," you murmur, your voice soft, "stay with me tonight. Please."

He doesn’t hesitate. "I’m not going anywhere, princess."

You close your eyes, the steady rhythm of his breath lulling you into a calm that you didn’t know you needed. You feel his hand gently stroke the back of your hair, his touch soothing, his presence grounding you.

And as you drift off to sleep, you realize that, despite everything—despite the danger, despite the fear—having Jake here, safe beside you, is all that matters right now.

Hours later, you’re woken by the softest of movements beside you, a slight shift in the air that has you blinking your eyes open. You immediately feel the warmth next to you, and when your gaze flickers to Jake, you realize he’s no longer lying a safe distance from you. Instead, he’s shifted closer, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips as his arm slips around your waist, pulling you in against his chest.

At first, the shock of his closeness makes you freeze. Your body tenses instinctively, not sure how to react to the sudden intimacy. His chest rises and falls steadily beneath your cheek, and you can feel his warmth, his body pressing gently against yours. He’s not unconscious anymore, but he’s still too hurt to move much.

He mumbles something against your hair, his voice barely audible, but it’s enough to send your heart skipping a beat. “I’ll be fine, princess… just needed you close.”

You let out a soft breath you didn’t even know you were holding, your mind still racing to catch up with the reality of the situation. The fact that he’s pulled you this close so effortlessly makes your stomach flutter in a way you can’t explain. This is Jake. Your Jake. And even though his arms feel a little too tight around you, the weight of his closeness feels… right.

Slowly, you relax into his embrace, the warmth of his body soothing your nerves. The feeling of his fingers lightly brushing over the fabric of your shirt as he pulls you closer feels so natural, despite the tension in the air. You can’t help but feel a little comforted by the fact that, in this moment, it’s not the superhero or the fighter beside you. It’s just Jake.

But the faint ache in your chest doesn’t go unnoticed as you shift slightly, adjusting to his position. You can’t help the little sigh that escapes you, not from discomfort, but from something deeper. Something more protective, more concerned. You don’t want to see him like this again. It scares you to think of him out there, fighting for lives—and for you—only to come back like this, broken and bruised.

Jake shifts again, his hand moving up to cradle the back of your head, his thumb brushing over your hair as if trying to comfort you, even though you’re the one taking care of him. You meet his gaze, the softness in his eyes a stark contrast to the usual mischievous glint, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s just the two of you. No Spider-Man, no danger, just Jake… your Jake.

“You should get some sleep,” he murmurs, his voice low and quiet, his hand gentle against your back as he pulls you even closer, your chest now flush against his. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this… again. But I’m glad you're here.”

You press your lips together, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through you at his words. You thought you might feel suffocated by his closeness, but instead, you feel something almost comforting. Even if you didn’t ask for this life, even if you never expected any of this to happen, Jake is here. And as much as he’s the one always looking out for you, it’s moments like this that make you want to look out for him, too.

“I’ll stay,” you whisper, “but only because you’re impossible to get rid of.”

Jake chuckles softly, his breath tickling your ear, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “You know you love me, princess.”

You smirk, but there’s a warmth in your voice as you reply, “Maybe. Just don’t get used to it.”

His grip around you tightens just a little, and you can feel the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corners of his lips as he pulls you closer again, not saying a word, just content to hold you close. The night settles back into a peaceful silence, save for the occasional sound of his breathing, deep and steady.

You drift off to sleep in his arms, the weight of everything finally starting to feel a little lighter. And even though you know there will be more challenges ahead, more times when he’ll get hurt, more nights spent worrying, you feel a quiet peace in the fact that, at least for tonight, you’re together. Safe.

[poisonlove]

The Addams curse | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

A/N: Okay, I admit it. I read a story that inspired me so much that I "stole" the idea

Wednesday was painfully aware of the curse she inherited from her family: the Addams curse. It was a curse that had existed since the 5th century, binding an Addams to their soulmate. A curse that would drive one to madness if rejected by that person, a madness that would torment them even after death.

As alluring as that last thought sounded, Wednesday didn’t want to become a slave to another person.

And she especially had things to do.

Just the thought of her father's expression when he looked at Morticia sent a warm, nauseating sensation to her stomach, a warmth that was far from pleasant. It was a reminder that in her life she would encounter… her other half. She would prefer to skin herself alive than to fall into this trap.

Because love was, in fact, a trap.

Thanks to reading a book about her family's history, she learned that the curse activated with the first contact with the destined person. A touch that sent thousands of electric shocks coursing through the body, a bond capable of quenching the thirst of her cursed soul.

That’s why she was averse to any contact: no one, ever, would trigger that curse to drag her into madness. She categorically rejected the idea of succumbing to temptation; she was even willing to kill the destined person, fully aware that she would die immediately afterward.

there was another side effect: if your soulmate died, you would follow them incapable of living without them.

Wednesday pressed her lips into a thin line.

That moment had arrived the instant she crossed the gates of Nevermore Academy. A warmth spread through her body and an annoying itch kept her on edge. Wednesday mentally cursed herself for having attacked students at her old school: at least she wouldn’t have anticipated her end. Her parents watched her with curiosity as they approached her new room and Wednesday tried to maintain an unreadable expression, fully aware that chaos reigned inside her.

Where her mother stayed in the past: Ophelia Hall.

As soon as they opened the door the itch intensified and something indefinable vibrated in the air. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the curse or the fact that she had entered a painfully colorful room. A girl immediately sprang up from the bed, a smile stretching from ear to ear as her blonde hair with blue and pink streaks danced toward their direction. Another girl sat cross-legged on the bed to the girl to far too… enthusiastic.

There it was again, that annoying itch.

“Hi, roommate!” the blonde exclaimed excitedly.

Wednesday felt nauseated, a wave of discomfort tightening her stomach in a cold grip. It was a new sensation for her. She felt her throat constrict, the urge to vomit ready to explode but the lack of food ingested that morning left her with only a painful emptiness, like an abyss sucking her from within. With a shiver she realized that the nausea wasn’t caused by hunger but by the curse that poisoned her insides, slithering through her veins like a subtle venom.

Oh no.

The impression of tiny spiders weaving her stomach from the inside sent a chilling shiver through her, insinuating itself between her bones. Every thread of that imaginary web seemed to tighten around her, making every breath harder than the last. The sensation of being trapped, of losing control, terrified her in a way she would never admit to anyone. Wednesday found herself immobile; perhaps "paralyzed" was the best word.

“Are you okay? You look... pale,” the blonde said with concern.

Other eyes turned in her direction.

“Oh… Wednesday always looks half dead,” her father commented with an ironic smile.

Her mother’s hand rested on her shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze, a gesture that could have seemed comforting but for Wednesday was a reminder of the distance between them.

But inside, Wednesday felt a turmoil boiling in her chest. A raw, primitive energy surged through her like an electric current, making her muscles tremble. Paradoxically, it was the first time she felt so… alive. That pain, that sense of oppression and that devastating nausea had awakened an intensity she had never experienced before. It was as if the curse was showing her the limits of her humanity, forcing her to feel closer to life, precisely because she was on the brink of her annihilation.

If her mother hadn’t placed her hand on her shoulder, she probably would have fainted.

“I understand,” the blonde mumbled, a look of confusion on her face. “Anyway, I’m Enid, and that over there is my best friend Y/N,” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Y/N timidly waved her hand as a greeting.

“I’m happy to meet you!” Enid exclaimed, filled with bubbly happiness, opening her arms and walking toward her.

Wednesday’s eyes widened and she quickly took a step back to avoid contact. The itch had appeared as soon as she entered this room and the gothic girl didn’t know if it was the blonde girl who was the possible cause. There was also the chance that it was the other girl, Y/N, but honestly she didn’t want to know in any case.

Enid slowed down and looked at her with disappointment.

“Oh… I see you’re not a hugging person,” she mumbled weakly, still wearing a big smile on her lips.

“Do you like the room?” she asked curiously, her eyes so bright it seemed like she had two stars instead of irises.

“No,” Wednesday replied venomously.

“Sorry… Wednesday… is allergic to colors,” her father justified and Enid raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What does it do to you?” she asked weakly.

“My flesh is peeling off my bones,” Wednesday replied in a flat tone, her lips reduced to a thin line. She felt the itch slowly fade but the annoyance remained on her. A faint laugh reached her ears, forcing her to turn toward Enid’s best friend. “Sorry… that was funny,” the latter stammered trying to justify herself as her cheeks flushed.

Wednesday stared at her intensely, a visceral hatred bubbling within her.

“Well… I’ll go now,” Y/N mumbled weakly. The girl got up from the bed and Wednesday found herself analyzing her quickly: tall, slender, long y/c hair and eyes of the same color. A smile resided on her lips and the goth felt as if her own were about to rise in reflex

she held back.

“It was nice to meet you,” she mumbled timidly.

Y/N passed by her and the proximity was enough to awaken the unsettling sensation gripping her insides. But luckily for Wednesday, it lasted only a few seconds.

(...)

Nevermore turned out to be much more fascinating than Wednesday had imagined: gorgons, werewolves, sirens, vampires and all the other creatures that populated the world of outcasts. However, what intrigued her the most was the series of murders wreaking havoc in the quiet town of Jericho. A frenzy of curiosity filled her; she felt inspired.

She longed to discover the identity of the killer, continue her novel about Viper and investigate any mystery that could be connected to her ancestor Goody Addams.

She would think about escape later.

Regarding her curse, Wednesday had narrowed it down: Enid, Y/N, and Yoko. Tayler and Xavier had quickly been eliminated from her list. Tayler for covering her mouth during the excursion in the woods to avoid being discovered by Sheriff Galpin and Xavier for taking her to the infirmary when she fainted. In both cases, she hadn’t felt anything, a total absence of emotions.

But Y/N was different. She was almost 80% sure that you were her soulmate.

Every time they spoke, even if she could detect a note of sarcasm in your responses to her icy remarks, she felt a palpable energy between you two, an electric current that seemed to draw her closer to you. Her eyes couldn’t tear away from yours and an unbearable fire exploded in her chest. She found herself experiencing mental blackouts lost in your gaze and on more than one occasion she had even stammered. She hated the curse, hated herself, and above all, hated you.

But what got her into trouble were her thoughts crowding her mind like a chorus of impatient voices: Take her hand, kiss her, find out if you are her damn ruin. These thoughts didn’t manifest with Enid or Yoko. With Enid, there was a weak itch, a sense of comfort but not attraction, probably because they were roommates. And Yoko? Well, she was simply a friend of Enid and Y/N.

Wednesday blinked and directed her gaze back to her plate.

The goth found herself having lunch at a table with her roommate's group. Despite loving solitude, she found herself amidst Enid and Yoko, with Y/N sitting in front of her, a calm expression on her face.

The buzzing continued.

Wednesday was close to Enid, so close that their shoulders brushed against each other. Anxiety gripped her stomach but she needed to narrow down the list, she wanted to know: she bit her lower lip and decided to eliminate the distance by leaning her weight against Enid's shoulder.

Nothing.

“Oh, sorry,” Enid shifted.

Wednesday furrowed her brow. Why hadn’t anything happened? Maybe the contact needed to last longer? Should she hold her hand or something? The goth extended her hand and placed it on the blonde’s arm.

Nothing.

She quickly fell into a panic, the electricity increasing around her and decided to touch Yoko.

Absolutely nothing.

“Do you want to kill me? Did you touch garlic with those hands?” Yoko asked, panicking as she looked at Wednesday through her sunglasses.

“I don’t think so… You would have already burned,” Y/N commented playfully. Wednesday looked up and locked eyes with Y/N. This only meant one thing... Her suspicions were true.

It was you.

You were her soulmate.

Oh, fuck it.

[slasherscream]

Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. what type of yandere are they

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine / clingy, obsessive, manipulative 

You'd better be damn sure you want to be with Tiffany before you ever bring up dating her because there is no escape once you've embarked on the exciting journey of being her romantic partner.

But if we're being honest you never really had a choice. You think you met organically? Became close by fate? No, Tiffany saw you and wanted you and decided to have you.

It was love at first sight on her part.

You'll be friends for a few months as she weaves the inescapable web around you. Best friends, actually. You'll tell her absolutely everything about yourself. Learn everything about her in turn. It's pure bliss to have a friend like Tiffany. Supportive, charming, affectionate.

You can tell she loves you more than anything. Loves you more than anyone else has ever loved you before, and she isn't afraid to show it.

You probably already had a partner when you met Tiffany. She was heartbroken when you first told her. The heartbreak didn't last long. Why cry over spilled milk? She wants to take it slow with you anyways, make sure that this time every aspect of the life you build together will be perfect.

She's come in too heavy before. You can't rush perfection, her mother always told her. For you, the lesson is finally worth learning.

Everything can be a tool. In the right hands. And Tiffany's hands? Why, they're incredibly skilled. She uses your soon-to-be-ex as a diving board for your upcoming relationship with her. Even if you'd been perfectly content with the relationship until you met Tiffany, suddenly everything is awful.

Tiffany points out every mistreatment. Every cancelled date. Every strange tone they used when talking to you. Every shitty, unoriginal gift. Every moment they weren't enthusiastic enough about good news you had to share.

It gets to the point where you can't even look at them half the time. You'll end dates with your partner early just to go spend more time with Tiffany: "What do you think they meant when they said that, Tiff?" / "I think they forgot who they were talking to, sweetheart! They're lucky I wasn't around or I would've cut out their tongue."

Tiffany has you so wrapped around her finger she's not even the one who suggests the break up. She was still going to wait a month or two before she began to truly push.

But when you show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, holding flowers and her favorite takeout, rambling about how you've been so blind and it's always been Her...

Well, she has to smile as she pulls you in, savoring the last first kiss your lips will ever gift another soul.

She almost forgot how good she is at getting what she wants.

Jordan Li / protective, obsessive, lucid

You're so sweet. It was the first thought Jordan remembers having about you. The beginning of the end. They haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that one fatal moment.

Jordan has plenty of other things to think about. Things that should outclass you in importance easily. Their ranking, Brink's careful mentoring, their grades. They tell themselves that it all still matters more than you but they know they're lying to themselves.

It scares them a little, how much they actually think about you. Not a minute can go by without their thoughts drifting to you.

Did you eat today? / Your next class is in ten minutes, let me walk you, I've got the time. / You were running out of your favorite perfume. Got you a new bottle. / You look upset. Did someone fucking say something to you?

They can't help the way they hover around you during every spare moment they can find.

Jordan knows your schedule by heart to maximize the amount of time you can spend together. It's a balancing act they have to play with their brain for the simplest of tasks: you can spend the rest of the day with Y/N but you have to finish grading these essays first.

They can't function properly when they go too long without you. They swing on their sparring partners too hard. Stare at the clock during lectures instead of listening. They rip textbooks and snap pens by holding them too tight.

Sometimes they have to give up and call you. If they can't go and see you for whatever reason the sound of your voice makes it better. Hearing you talk, the sound of you breathing, laughing. It helps. Calms the buzz beneath Jordan's skin. They dial your contact, glaring into space as they wait for you to pick up. As soon as you do their body relaxes.

They recognize that their behavior isn't normal. Always needing to know where you are, who you're with. Feeling sick when they don't know.

You're like a drug for Jordan. They know you're an addiction, the way you've crawled under their skin. No high on earth compares, and Jordan has fucking compared them all. They pull you into their lap, as close as they can get you and it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough.

"Please don't fucking go anywhere, yeah?" Jordan will mumble into the skin of your neck. Their grip on you is too tight, face twisted at the desperation they feel. It's not pillow talk. They're begging. Genuinely. They'd do anything to keep you this close, always.

"Of course not, Jordie." You coo back. They close their eyes and pretend the words are enough. Nothing ever is.

Nancy Downs / delusional, possessive, obsessive

As soon as Nancy wants you there's no other option for you besides her. You can either choose to go along with it or you can fight it.

Fighting against her is like fighting against the tide, though. You can tread water for awhile. Keep your head afloat, sure. But eventually you'll get tired. Nature wins. Besides, fighting against Nancy becomes unpleasant fast. Being hers is so much nicer. She's gentler that way, kinder.

You're allowed to have friends, she doesn't isolate you completely.

It's just your old friends sucked. They didn't appreciate you. Didn't look out for you. Selfish users just like everyone else. Moths are always drawn to the light, and she'll kill every moth that strays a little too close to you, before it ever gets a chance to singe itself on your warmth. It's a mercy, really. Living a life in the darkness and having one brief moment in the sun is miserable. Nancy should know. It almost drives her crazy when you're not around. If you ever left she'd want to be put out of her misery too.

Her coven, though? They're perfect. Her coven is a family. And you were the last missing piece of it.

Anything about your old life, the life before her, can be viewed as a threat at a moment's notice. Family. Friends. Memories you speak of a little too fondly. Even a hobby could do it. She wants your focus to be her. It's only fair, her only focus is you.

Even when she's not around. Even when you're completely alone you swear you can feel her eyes on you. Her magic drifting against your skin as if she was sitting right beside you.

Nancy's intensity can be scary but she makes anyone else's love seem dull in comparison.

Who else could love you like she does? Who else would die for you? Nancy wouldn't even have to think about it first. All she asks in return is for you to do the same. Live for her. Dedicate every breathe in your lungs to her.

It's not so hard, she'll lead by example.

Jennifer Check / manipulative, possessive, clingy

She couldn't give a shit about anyone else but you. Somehow you managed to sneak your way into her heart and she can't let go of you. Won't let go of you. You're the only thing that's keeping that small, soft, human part of her alive. You dragged that bit of her back from the grave she put it in, actually. So it wouldn't be fair for you to try and leave, after you made her weak again. Human again.

Her world revolves around you. Her priorities are her next meal and you. Of course she gets pissed off if you don't reciprocate her energy. Look at her, how could you ever put anything above her?

Jennifer wants you to be everything to each other, though she won't say it out loud. It shows in her actions.

You belong to her. Every version of yourself that exists in the world should belong to her. The version of you that you are when you're someone's best friend. When you're someone's partner. It's all hers. She won't let anyone else take root in your life in a role that she can fill. She'll do a better job anyways.

The enormity of her ego and the way she clings might seem at odds. She thinks she's a God walking amongst fucking cattle. But she sticks to you like a second skin. A hand always at your waist. Her lips always chasing yours, whining when you don't give in fast enough, when you don't melt like she does. Her grip iron clad when you hold hands. If you pull away too soon from a hug, from a kiss, she bites, she holds on with claws.

She coos at the marks she leaves on your skin and kisses all the scratches and bruises she leaves better. / "I'm sorry baby, you know I hate letting you go."

Carrie White / idolizer, protective, selfless

Not in her wildest dreams did Carrie think anyone could be as kind as you. People are cruel. Their first instinct is to cause hurt before they'll ever reach out a hand to help, to shield, to love.

But you're not like that at all. You're something ripped straight from a fairy-tale. The rare ones that her Mother let her read, that weren't hiding devil worship between their poetic words.

You're so patient with her. So gentle. You treat her like glass. You hold her close, and kiss her soft, and cup her face in your hands that are always so warm.

You say you love her in a breathless way, every time. Like even expressing how much you care makes you dizzy. As if she overwhelms you. She feels dizzy herself as she hangs on your every honeyed word. Clings to you every time you reach out your hands to hold her.

Carrie doesn't know if she believes in God nowadays, but if she did you'd be an angel sent straight from heaven. A gift, maybe, to make up for all the years of torment she endured from everyone she'd ever known.

She'd think you were some kind of God yourself, if you had any sort of abilities like her. But you don't. You walk around doing what's right, being good down to the marrow of your very bones just because it's who you are. You greet the world with your fists raised and you're only human, and it scares Carrie so much.

You're the last decent person alive and you'll throw yourself onto any pyre you see if it means doing what's right. Carrie loves that about you. It terrifies her.

So Carrie throws herself into the ring with you. Your sweet, gentle Carrie who you're always trying to protect. But Carrie doesn't need your protection. She's not the helpless little girl she used to be. She won't let anything hurt either of you, from now on. For the rest of your lives you'll be safe, happy. Together. Carrie would burn the world to ash if it meant not a scratch would befall you.

"You're an angel, Y/N. The most wonderful angel God ever made."

Ginger Fitzgerald / possessive, impulsive, protective,

Sometimes Ginger wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They're a hindrance.

She feels insane when she watches you. She feels her claws come out and makes herself bleed as she fights against the instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you, and every pair of eyes that's ever looked into yours.

She shivers when you claim her. The only time she enjoys being around other people now is when you're introducing her: "This is Ginger, my girlfriend." "This is Ginger, my partner." "This is Ginger, my best friend." "This is Ginger, my everything."

She loves being yours. Relishes in the way you say the word mine. She wants to lick the words from your mouth, the weight of your total ownership over her sweet and poisonous.

She wonders if you get the same pleasure from belonging to her. She wants you to. She wants to carve her name into your skin with her claws and have you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter G.

It's primal, the way she wants you. Beyond anything humans have words for. She leaves her scent on your skin and wants to growl when you wash it away with artificial soaps and perfumes. She sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else could see.

She wants you to do the same. Wants to roll onto her back and expose her neck, and have you bite so hard you draw blood.

Ginger's wanting comes with teeth. What she is demands she sinks her teeth into things, that she draws blood. Even when she loves you. Because she loves you, maybe. She needs to leave a mark on you. She needs to always be there. She needs the same from you.

Needs you to leave scars on her that she can touch when you're not around. Proof that you were there. Proof that you're coming back. You don't carve your name into things and then abandon them. When you own things you keep them.

When you're gone the world goes dim and cold. She couldn't survive in a world without you. She wouldn't even attempt it. What would be the fucking point?

"We're a pair. We belong to each other. Always, yeah?"

[zoieru]

Half Measures ~

After an accidental and messy reunion with Dazai after two years, you - like you suspected - ended up with your clothes off. But when your tryst had an unexpected imaginary cameo by a friend of yours, you realised some things really never do change - and Dazai and Chuuya's competitiveness really does transcend time and space.

NSFW CONTENT - Dazai my little content warning 𖹭 alcohol mentions, reader n dazai n chuuya grew up together in pm, pm!reader - ada!dazai, droplets of angst, fluffy, cockwarming, f!reader riding, reader had chuuya-sex-tm during the years they weren't together, basically Dazai is competitive and gets off on reader talking about chuuya-sex-tm while they fuck :3 It's sweet really, I promise you. My pussy wrote this while I was sleeping. She kinda a good writer fr. 5.2k~

a/n ~ while I wrote this from my own hyperfixated horny brain, it's come to my attention that this fic is actually very similar to this one written by @/osarina. This was completely unintentional, but if you came across mine first and happen to want a longer exploration of this sort of theme then go read that one after~ it's a super fun idea.

Perhaps if you and Dazai Osamu had a slogan, it would be no half measures. It was the same two years ago, and the same now. While he loved to weave his webs, leaving those none the wiser to find out later that he had a grand plan all along, there, ultimately, was nothing subtle about it.

Your impromptu reunion was no exception. The man had left to become a 'good guy' as it were, two years ago. Even the thought had you huffing breaths of joyless laughter when it crossed your mind as you brushed your teeth. Not because he had no good in him, oh no, he had tonnes of good. Shit covered gold is still gold, right? You'd always seen the gold, always cherished it, reminded him of it when he forgot. That's what you gave to the boys as you grew up in the mafia, dealing with shit storms of violence all day. You were their safe space, their reminder that no matter what they did, were ordered to do, they still had that gold inside. You seemed to find it effortlessly.

Did it mean you weren't mad, though? Mad at Dazai fucking Osamu of all people for being able to weazel out of the mafia at the behest of a dead friend and have a happy good guy life? No it fucking didn't. You were mad, pissed, angry and...heartbroken. but not because he didn't deserve it. Just because...that life wasn't with you.

Now all of this was discussed in no uncertain words, raised voices and snarks and huffs and tears, the last few hours, after you bumped into eachother underneath one of Yokohama's bridges. You didn't think Dazai bumped into anyone. But he seemed genuinely shocked to see you. Your filled out body, your beautiful face that made his heart ache uncomfortably in his ribcage, that scar he knew definitely hadn't been there before. His safe space, the only one that saw all the good, nourished it. The only thing he had never wanted to run from. You, that he left behind in the darkness.

They were a mess, these hours, because of course they were. Words weren't enough to express both your feelings, even if either of you were good with expressing them. But you managed. You had to. Because you never thought you'd see him again, before this.

So that's how you ended up in your apartment. He hadn't seen it, yet. Hadn't met your cat, either, who - despite hating strangers - hopped into his lap happily the moment he sat and curled up as if he belonged there.

Over lumpy throats, tight chests, and a two year old bottle of whiskey, more talking was done. And now you were in his lap.

I think you probably see where this is going, right? No half measures, always some grand finale. The point is, Dazai didn't plan any of this. But you, both of you, even before, even growing up, were never subtle. Always intense and a beautiful gorgeous mess of chaos.

So as you replaced the cat in his lap, clothes strewn across the sofa beside you, his cock nestled deep inside you after a round like it belonged there - like it never fucking left - you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Even as the hurt feelings lingered. They would, for a while, you knew. He knew. But it didn't change the way you felt about eachother.

Dazai's head was spinning as he came down from your combined high. He could barely focus, fingers still trailing idly over your bare back, tracing patterns mindlessly onto your skin. He hadn't thought he'd see you again either. Not like this. Not anywhere but from an aching distance with you none the wiser.

He just needed you close, needed to keep feeling you, and not let go. He whispered, that hum of a tone you knew used to be reserved for you, soft, gentle.

“You’re...still amazing.”

You chuckled breathlessly as the words reached your ears, planting a soft wet kiss on his neck just above his bandages. Your heart felt warm. Tired, but warm.

"You thought I'd have lost my edge? I've only grown up, Dazai~" you murmured, fond, teasing gently.

He let out a soft scoff, and his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling your lips and breath against his skin.

He shook his head as you spoke, dark hair falling into his eyes a little. “Of course not..” he breathed softly. “You've not lost your sharpness, either.”

It was one of the reasons you just worked. It was as though you spoke in another language, a communication of smartass snark and wit that left others confused and bewildered when they tried with futility to keep up.

He closed his eyes as he spoke again, as close to reverent as the man could get. "I don't think I realised how much I missed your body until now."

The words made you clench a little around him, involuntarily, your walls tightening in a brief squeeze as you were reminded of your position. You let out a soft huff of pleased amusement, fond and sleepy sated.

"Mmh~ Others didnt quite match up?" You weren't sure why you asked, in fact you kinda wished you hadn't when it plopped out your mouth. But there was that lingering anxiety curled up in your chest that would take a while to ease. Thinking about him being with other people while he was gone made your insides writhe uncomfortably, albeit reluctantly, even if his cock was comfy inside you.

He felt the slight clench and let out a soft noise of pleasure, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing kisses on your skin. Each one a tiny message of affection. Of course there were other people. But no one like you. No one ever matched you.

He spoke against your neck, his voice soft and tired. “You know they didn’t.”

Your fingers tightened on his shoulders a little as he trailed a kiss moistened path down your neck, your eyes fluttering closed as you tried to focus on the sensation rather than the thoughts.

Perhaps each kiss was a small apology, for all the pain he'd caused as a result of his actions, his inability to bring you with him, and his incapability to handle contact with you the last two years knowing he'd break if he had.

"It didn't mean anything."

"I know."

Your own language again. Speaking in half complete sentences, picking it up as if he'd never left. You used to find it funny how others used to look at you, seemingly reading each others mind quick fire.

You did know. Your heart still didn't like it, though.

He hummed against your neck, the vibrations gently lulling. He knew you knew. His own heart was conflicted too. Filling the you-shaped void was never successful, of course, even if the physical act itself was somewhat pleasurable.

After a gentle teasing comment about you feeling the same inside, and you wiggling a little on his lap in response, his hands came to hold your waist tighter to keep you still - his dick stirring inside you with the subtle overstimulation.

After a moment, he paused, those brown eyes glinting in the dim light with a subtle hint of mischief and curiosity. "And...what about you?"

You knew what he was asking. Frankly, it was a conversation you'd rather avoid, but you'd been the one to bring it up because you were a dumbass, apparently. You always seemed to lose a few braincells when it came to him. He had too many to count.

You felt a blush creep up your neck a little, no clothes to hide behind, and huffed a bit indignant.

"A...bit. not as much as you, almost certainly," you said with a small chuckle. He always was a bit of a slut.

He chuckled at your blushing, ever finding your flusterment amusing, and his hand slid slowly along your hip. His gaze lingered on your body, taking you in. Re-memorising you. The achingly familiar, yet subtly new, curves and marks.

"You're not going to say who was in your bed while I was away?"

"What, you want a hit list?"

You asked the question rather dryly, raising an eyebrow with amused scepticism. It was a joke...mostly.

He barked out a laugh, and rolled his pretty eyes. You always were a smartass, and he loved that about you.

He gave you a small tap on your hip, and answered dryly, his tone mock-offended. "Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"A little, sure," you chuckled. "I don't wish to be the cause of death for those who might suffer your wrath~"

His fingers dug lightly into your hips, and he bit back a moan at the way you were moving.

"Oh, come now...you're underestimating my self control," he teased. "You forget, I'm a model citizen."

"Oh yes, how could I forget. You're the good guy now, and I'm the one in the mafia~" the last word was emphasised with a spooky lilt.

He smirked, ever charmed by your sarcasm.

"Exactly. So you shouldn't doubt me, mafia princess~"

It earned him a grumpy huff and narrowed eyes, which was rather undercut by the fact you were cockwarming him while chatting idly.

After a few moments, him nuzzling and running his nose up your neck, he paused and raised an eyebrow at you slowly with a playful curious smirk. "And...a list, is it?"

You blushed again a bit, tucked into his neck, and let out another indignant huff. You really wished you'd kept your damn mouth shut.

"No...not really," you admitted. There weren't many people. It was rather who...

"Come now, you can tell meee~"

Dazai's tone was playful, amused. But he was genuinely curious, he did want to know. You'd said there were others. Who were they? Were they a one night stand or was it a repeat thing? The idea of anyone else touching you made his chest ache a bit, though he was fully aware he didn't have much of a right to it. It was understandable, you were eachothers person.

Another thing about Dazai, he didn't often let things go, especially with you. Realistically, you did not want to have this conversation with him still nestled deep inside your pussy. But this was you two. Stupid and messy and ridiculous.

You sighed, deeply, and looked up at him through your eyelashes, heart doing quick thumps in your chest.

-

"Chuuya."

-

He couldn't say he was surprised. You three had been inseparable in the mafia, and Chuuya - while being a grumpy old chibi about literally everything else - had a soft streak for you a mile wide. But it didn't mean his heart was totally happy with it.

His eyes found yours again. "Chuuya, huh?"

Time to explain.

Your eyes searched his for his feelings, fingers drawing soft and idle patterns on his collarbone.

"Well... When you left we were both pretty shaken, fucked up. We only had eachother, y'know?" You paused for a minute, gaze tracing his face. "His wine might have had something to do with it~"

He was trying hard to keep his expression and his voice steady, his fingers tightening on your skin. The thought of you in bed with Chuuya, touching you, kissing you, having you was making him more than a little possessive.

Still, he couldn't deny that it made sense, that at the time when they were both so in pain, it was only natural that they'd seek comfort in each other.

He gave a soft scoff, his voice still somewhat even. "The drunken hatrack, I must question your taste~"

Your ability to read him was still sharp, despite the subtle rust on the edges from the time apart.

"Don't...be sad about it," you said, softly, lifting a finger to trace down his nose gently. "We all grew up together, explored together, yknow. It was...likely, I guess."

"I'm not sad. I'm just... not thrilled."

He felt a shiver go through him as your finger traced down his nose. The feeling was so familiar, so familiar it hurt. And it was exactly that. They'd grown up together, they'd explored their bodies and the world together. It made sense that they would be together in that time. But it didn't mean he had to like it.

"I know." You said. Soft, reassuring. And a touch guilty, despite it not being a fault or misstep.

"But...he's not the one inside me now, is he?~"

Had you forgotten he was still nestled deep inside your walls while you talked? He almost had, comfortable. But your comment, the discussion, that subtle intoxicating tease to your tone amongst the gentleness saved for him...it made his cock twitch with renewed interest. Your words had inadvertently triggered, awakened, something you knew all too well.

His eyes gleamed in the muted light, and he gave you a devilish smirk. "I'm more interesting than Chuuya, anyways."

He gripped your waist tighter, his eyes darkening in the dim lighting. His fingers trailed up your stomach achingly feather light, and came up to your chest, tracing lazy circles. His touch was more possessive than he intended. Not that he cared.

"I bet I feel better too~"

You made a soft sound of pleasure mixed with exasperation, and rolled your eyes, shooting him an unimpressed look that said 'seriously?' The comment was hot, and so damn him. This guy, honestly. Always the same.

"You're so..." You chuckled. "Ridiculous."

But you hadn't caught on yet, had you. The danger you were walking into? The way his cock started to stir more than before, filling itself slowly as it stayed nestled deep inside you. His smirk grew cockier, cheekier, and he nipped at your neck.

"Ridiculously charming, you mean~"

His fingers wrapped around your waist, tighter. He pulled you down a little further onto himself, sighing a pretty breath through his lips as you felt even tighter around him.

He looked up at you through his eyelashes, his tone turned teasing again. "Don't deny it. I bet Chuuya couldn't make you feel this good."

You let out a soft sound of pleasured surprise as he shifted you deeper, fingers gripping a little tighter onto his shoulders. You were sensitive, having had sex and then cockwarmed him for like 20 minutes already. But it felt so good all the same.

"Dazai, I don't really want to discuss the details of sex with Chuuya while I'm sitting on your dick," you said, as if that wasn't rather obvious.

He let out a soft sultry chuckle, and his hands wandered more, firmer, his touch soft and yet so possessive and greedy. You could hear and feel his breath shake slightly as he breathed you in. He felt needy for your body, for your attention. And this was only making it worse. Or better~

He leaned in and nipped gently at your neck again, his voice a low, teasing tone. "Oh? Why not? Scared I'll out-perform him?"

You whined quietly, hoping this wasn't what you thought it was. You knew that look, those eyes, that voice.

"Are you seriously getting competitive with Chuuya when he's not even here?" You asked, in a little breath, feeling his now much harder cock poke your insides almost playfully as it twitched. It was so him, so them. They just had to one up eachother even if one of them was balls deep inside you and the other had no idea.

He gave you a soft bite, chuckling against your skin. He always loved it when he riled you up a bit, when you got all flustered. And he was getting excited...

His hand slipped under your thigh, fingers tracing along your skin. He rolled his hips languidly upwards and pulled you closer against him deliciously. "I'm just curious, don't get all annoyed~"

He paused. He was deliberately provoking you, poking gently, he just couldn't help himself. He let out a another sigh, a bit of neediness, and his voice was playful - but also serious. "I want to know everything about what you did with him."

That's what gave it away.

Your hand in his hair paused it's idle patterns briefly as the few braincells you had left untouched by the lustful haze rubbed together to realise what was happening.

You pulled back just a little to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown out a bit, brown honeyed pools half lidded and a little hazy with affection but also this conflicted lustful glint, not dissimilar to when you used to see him get a little sadistic.

"Dazai..."

His expression turned just the tiniest bit sheepish, his cheeks lightly dusted with a hint of pink, but his eyes still held that playful glint. He knew what you would say, what you'd ask, what this was. He leaned in again, nuzzling against your neck.

"Maybe~"

You felt the tips of his long fingers trace over the bumps of your spine, down from your nape gorgeously slowly over each one. He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't help but feel territorial, jealous, thinking of Chuuya. You and Chuuya. And well...he'd always been a little masochistic. "What of it?~ he murmured, giving you a small bite on your shoulder to gently rile you.

You let out a whine at his bite. His words and that beautiful soft melodic tone seeped into you and curled deep in your tummy around where his cock still stuck now achingly hard inside you. He and Chuuya, all three of you, always had tonnes of sexual tension. Among other types. So it wasn't so far off that he could be a bit aroused by this...that you could be a bit aroused by this...

"mph, you're weird," you breathed in a sigh into his neck, your warm breath running over his bare and bandaged skin as you closed your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

He could feel you squirming in his lap, and a soft moan escaped his lips. Dazai's fingers gripped your waist, holding you still. He leaned against you, his body moving to grind his hips up into yours.

His voice was a bit breathless, but there was a smirk to his words. "You already knew that. You always liked it, anyway~"

He couldn't help but be a cocky little bastard, even now. He was feeling playful and way too turned on, and he wanted to tease you a little bit. He knew he was being a bit much, but it was fun.

His fingers retraced their steps and cupped the back of your neck, his teeth lightly nipped at your jaw, and hummed. "It's hot, thinking of you with him."

A soft moan from your lips. A shuddered sigh. A lift and gentle roll of your hips so his cock peeked out just a little to shift back in through your folds achingly slowly. His words were unravelling any reservations you had about this weird mental cuck chair he had himself in. Replaced with arousal curling in your gut and making your skin hot where he touched it.

"mmh, you think so?" You hummed, face turning and burying in his hair. It was ridiculous. A messy heart-aching reunion after two years, hours later ending up like this. But it was so you.

"even if you're jealous?"

As your hips rolled he let out a breathy groan, and he tightened his grip on you. This was crazy. You made him crazy, and the way your body felt against his after so fucking long was making him a bit desperate.

"That's what makes it fun.~"

He could feel you slipping, starting to play along with it. He adored that about you. You'd always put up with and indulged in his little kinks and fetishes as no one else would. You went along with him in just about every aspect of life. It just spurred him on. That's his girl.

"It gets you going too, doesn't it?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your own in a parted smirk. He ran his nose up the side of yours, teasingly. "Thinking about Chuuya touching you..."

A shaky pretty sigh escaped your parted lips, brushing hot against his - eyes fluttering closed. Your mind, at his words, unwillingly but conveniently provided flashbacks of the nights you'd ended up pressed against the wall, red hair tangled in your fingers, leather gloved hands hungrily running over your body as if they couldn't get enough.

"Mph...a little," you mumbled. "He was kinda good, y'know~" A rather gross understatement. Another roll of your hips, languid, achingly slow, cock sliding out just a few inches to press steadily back in. You could play along. Tentatively. Seeing that he was enjoying it.

He felt something tighten in his chest at your words, like something was clutching at his heart a bit, but he was still enjoying himself. He wanted to know the details, wanted to know everything, see it through your eyes.

His fingers dug into your hip, keeping you moving, his own hips starting to respond. He thrusted upwards into you a little harder, his tip kissing your cervix pulling pretty breathy noises from his mouth. He moved his head to your neck again, his favourite place, his nose nuzzling the skin. A soft hum, tone huskier, lower. "Good, huh?"

"Sometimes it was kinda lazy," you murmured into his ear. You could tell he was struggling to muster enough focus to talk, one of the only times Dazai was rendered more speechless. So you did the talking, working with him as he rocked you up and down, your clit touching and sticking gently to his pelvis with each descent. You wanted to give him some more ammo. You didn't mind talking if he was getting worked up, after all.

You bit into his neck softly, leaving a little wet stripe over the sting as your hands drifted over his chest. "But sometimes it was like...pissed off, stressy, aggressive. Y-you know how he gets...if something pissed him off during the day~"

Dazai moaned again as you bit him. Despite the softness of your quickening movements, the languidness, his head was spinning with need. He nudged his nose bridge into your jaw, breath brushing across the skin on your throat. "Oh I know~" He pulled you closer, your breasts against his chest, pressed closer, closer, closer. "A little rough sometimes, too, huh? That sounds like him."

He couldn't help it, the idea sent thrills up his spine. This heady mix of slightly possessive jealous teasing arousal combined with the feeling of you again, a feeling he had missed for fucking years, was driving him a little insane. He wouldn't apologise. He knew you wouldn't ask him to. "mmph...you like rough."

You moaned in response, eyes fluttering closed once more as your hand slipped into his hair, steadying yourself in his sensual rolling that was just as perfect as it was overstimulatory.

"S-sometimes. Ngh - I did more, then. I was pissed that you we-re gone and, pissed a-at mori for making me do your fucking jobs. We got our anger out l-like a-ah that."

His chest ached with guilt, but also with this weird possessive need. He loved you, and he was glad you had someone.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he fucked up into you with a bit more speed, more force. His eyes heavily lidded with lust watched your breasts bounce prettily, your kiss plumped lips apart and panting softly.

"Did he leave any marks?"

You whined as he leaned forward and started kissing along your neck and collarbone with renewed hunger, as if he was determined to leave some along with the ghosts of those Chuuya had potentially left. He didn't care how pathetic he sounded, he needed to know. He was letting this side out, this small masochistic possessive side that wasn't present very often. And he was nothing if not competitive.

"Fu-ahh," your eyebrows drew in at the centre as he shifted his angle ever so slightly to hit deeper, each push of him through your spongey walls making you huff and moan. It was hard to keep talking at this point. But you did your best. "Ngh-he...he liked leaving hickeys on the...nginside of my thighs."

He cursed through a moan into your neck, his mind instantly going to Chuuya leaving those marks there, spreading your legs and trailing his tongue over the flesh. He hated it, needed it. He nipped hard on your neck, as if in response, outdoing him.

He thrusted up harder into you, still sensual rolls but harder, more needy, more hungry. With each one his arms and hands now cradling you, holding you like you were precious and gorgeous pulling you down onto his weeping cock that was nearing its fucking limit. He wanted you shaking and breathless when he was done.

"I bet you looked pretty, all marked up for him."

You whimpered into his mouth. A mess. You were both overstimulated, whiney, breathy messes. But this was you. Never in moderation, never a half measure. Some things never change.

He was close. You could feel it. Hear it in those gorgeous fucking sounds coming from his lips, higher pitched, breathy, into your neck as he rested his forehead there. His long cock twitched over and over, your walls automatically responding by squeezing gently, trying to coax out his high.

He loved your cute little sounds. His brain was mush. "Mmph...f-fuck. You're so-ah-good~". Seeing the ever composed Dazai come undone and needy for you was always unreal. He had one final question, murmured strained and raspy into your skin.

"Did...ngh- did he come inside?"

The mixture of the question, being with him again after all this time, the Chuuya bullshit, and his fingers finding themselves between you, rubbing gorgeous circles on your sensitive nub, had you crashing over the edge and falling into bliss. You whined and buried your face in his shoulder, his arms snaking further around you as he kept the now stuttering pace as you rode out your high, leaking, squeezing his cock. "y-eah...yeah ngh."

That was all he needed. With a broken throaty whimper he felt a hot rush of ecstasy, and release, starting to fill you, spilling into you as he couldn't maintain the rolls of his hips anymore. Your arms came around, still coming down yourself, essentially cradling him as he worked through his orgasm, feeling your tummy warm up with him spilling inside you.

His body was shaking a little, just clinging to you, head buried in your neck with panting breaths slowing with the time and as both your orgasms receded like the tide. His weary and pleased, overstimulated, cock gave a few last gentle spurts as it nestled and softened once more comfortable inside your walls.

He always had been a bit of a mess after sex. You could only take it as a compliment. It made your heart swell with affection wildly, even as the reality of what you both just did came down over you both like a light rain shower.

"Did we..."

"Yeah...yeah, we did." He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at your question, kissing your neck lazily as his head began to clear and the clouds revealed how ridiculous that was.

He was a little embarrassed, but also didn't care all that much. He rested his cheek on your shoulder as he looked up at you with a sleepy sort of grin. "That might have been a bit much."

You could have burst out laughing, but you managed just a sleepy exasperated chuckle, shaking your head as your hand came to run through your hair. "Yeah, no shit."

He laughed softly, his hand tracing down your spine lazily. He gave you a cocky grin, his expression lazy and satisfied.

"You're going to be feeling that for a bit, I think~"

He sounded rather pleased. Of course. Though he'd probably be sore as well. He pulled you closer, settling you into him as he leaned back against the sofa.

"Suppose I should have gone easier on you~"

That earned him an amused huff across his chest as you settled comfortably against him. You would need to get off soon, deal with the inevitable mess between your thighs. but for a moment you just...wanted to be close to him. seemed like he needed the same.

"I never thought you could... get off on thinking about me with Chuuya." You said, eyes lifting to his with an amused look of curiosity.

He let out a short amused scoff. "I wasn't exactly planning on it."

Dazai didn't really have the energy to try to defend his actions. Though he might not have anyway even if he did. You always did accept him for his quirks, like he did with yours albeit you having less. Safe space, even for this.

A dramatic wistful sigh left his lips. "Chuuya truly brings out the worst in me~"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. He really was ridiculous. Though your expression was filled with rather too much affection to be healthy. You'd had a good time, even if it was freaky.

"We are not telling him about this."

"Definitely not."

The thought was a rather horrifying one. For Dazai at least. The man would never hear the end of it if Chuuya found out that he'd essentially cucked himself in his mind with an imaginary version of him as he fucked you. Even if it was for competitive one-uppery. No thanks.

He let out a soft tired sigh, nuzzling into your cheek affectionately. "Our little secret."

He pulled away a little, eyes lifting to yours with that mischievous glint. "You know... If you ever mention this, I'll be forced to silence you with aggressive and enthusiastic methods. You likely wont enjoy it~"

You huffed, lifting an eyebrow. Two could play that game.

"I suppose I'll have to hold it over your head as blackmail material just in case you get any cute ideas about abandoning me again."

He chuckled at the idea, and his hand drifted up higher, lightly trailing over your ribs. A smirk played at his lips, his tone soft and lightly playful. "As if you could ever get even with me."

Though his expression sobered, then, eyes following his hand almost thoughtfully as it travelled over your beauty he knew so well. "I'm not going anywhere. Not anymore."

At the shift in tone, your heart did a gentle flutter, eyes softening along with it. Though before you could let the emotions linger, maybe say something soft and loving back, he smirked a little.

"Besides...can't go off somewhere and let the chibi have you can I?

Your mouth dropped open in an exaggerated display of offence, and you huffed. Honestly.

"You're such a dick."

"I know~"

"You can't meet me again after abandoning me for two years and then make a joke about you only staying with me to beat Chuuya."

"Why not? You like me when I'm a dick~"

Legend has it people can still hear you bickering around Yokohama at all times of day. You were a chaotic gorgeous ridiculous mess. And you never did anything in half measures.

Thankyou for joining me for...whatever this was >:3 ~ reblogs and interactions are always cherished deep within my soul !! 𖹭

[kioflerkira]

“ CATCH ME IF YOU CAN ! ”

pairing(s): m.morales x reader genre: fluff, humor, established relationship, friendly competition warnings: fluff, implied teasing swearing tee hee, kissing summary: you and miles make a game out of who can swing to the top of the tallest building first

━━━━ ⋮ ୨୧ ⋮ ━━━━

“ALRIGHT RULES ARE SIMPLE,” you said, perched sideways on the edge of a rooftop, fingers holding also the concrete roof. “first one to the top of that—” you pointed across the skyline, toward a skyscraper that gleamed under the afternoon sun, “—wins.”

miles arched a brow, stretching his neck like a professional athlete about to enter the spider-verse olympics. “what building ? that’s like three bridges and a pizza place away.”

“I believe in you,” you teased, already leaning forward like a runner on the starting line.

he gave you a squinty look, smirking as he pulled his mask back over his face. “you’re gonna cry when I beat you, aren’t you ?”

“ha ! you wish.” you grinned. “first one there gets bragging rights and the loser buys dinner.”

“oh, now it matters,” he laughed. “let’s go, pretty girl.”

and with that, he shot a web and zoomed.

you cursed under your breath, firing your own web right after him, launching off the edge with a scream of wind in your ears. the race was on.

the city blurred past as you swung between buildings, weaving through fire escapes and dodging the occasional surprised pigeon. you could see him up ahead—barely. his suit flashed red and black like a taunt every time he flipped over a building edge, cocky as ever.

“slowpoke !” miles shouted over his shoulder.

“trash talk won’t save you when I pass you !” you yelled back.

he laughed again— show-off

you took a shortcut, slicing through a narrow alleyway and rebounding off the side of a brick wall, shooting your web higher. boom, suddenly you were ahead.

“HEY !” he shouted.

“oh now you care,” you called, twisting mid-air, flipping backward just to show off. “I thought you were gonna win ?”

you didn’t even have to see his face to know he was pouting under that mask.

but then, as if scripted, you misjudged a swing. your web caught a weird angle, and you dipped for half a second.

and man, that one slip up was all he needed.

FWOOSH

he passed you in a blur, momentum perfect, body graceful in a way that made you want to punch him.

you landed on the rooftop a mere second after he did, tumbling into a roll and popping up just in time to see him already striking a dramatic pose on the edge of the building.

“you’re late,” he said smugly.

you stood, hands on your hips. “you literally just got here.”

“yeah, but I got here first.” he walked toward you, peeling off his mask. that smug smile of his was in full force. “so.. what’s for dinner ?”

you shoved him lightly, laughing. “you got lucky.”

“no,” he said, gently pulling your mask up halfway and kissing your forehead. “I got you. that’s all the luck I need.”

you groaned. “that was so incredibly corny—”

“and you loved it.”

you shoved him again, harder this time, and he caught you in a hug, arms wrapping around you in that warm, miles way that made everything slow down.

“you almost had me,” he said softly.

“you’re annoying,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “but you love me anyway ?”

you paused .. then sighed. “unfortunately.”

“rude.”

he kissed you anyway, grinning.

━━━━ ⋮ ୨୧ ⋮ ━━━━

a/n: WHY on gods green earth is it so hard to find decent photos for my shi bro, specifically miles 🥀 kid you not, it took me a good 30 minutes to find barely 3 decent photos

[eclipseiz]

Twin Thrones

pairing- caracalla x fem! oc x geta

(♡ synopsis)- calista amulis was determined to get her brother back, no matter the cost. even if that means she had to cozy up with the emperor's to do it.

part 1 of ?

please note...

✧ this is set PRE gladiator 2 as the story progresses it might dabble in the beginning but that's about it.

✧caracalla will not have syphilis in this story, he'll just be a crazy freak.

✧this story is gonna be dirty and raw (lol) so 18+

_✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩_

Calista Amulis was set on saving her brother, Caius from Rome the moment she had heard he’d been sold to them.

The sun beat down relentlessly as she leapt from the boat, the heat biting into her skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire that fueled her every movement. She darted away, her heart pounding with urgency, desperate to stay ahead of the soldier she had seduced only hours before for the free ride to Rome. She had played her part well, weaving the web of deception so carefully. She stumbled upon a young woman walking with a basket filled with what looked like bread, “Pardon me!” she called out making the woman turn around

“Yes?” the woman raised an eyebrow

Calista looked around and leaned in closer, “Do you know who I can talk to in regards to the Gladiators?”

She seemed to think for a moment before answering, “Macrinus would be your gentleman. He buys them up the moment they touch Roman soil. If I were to guess I'd say he's in his office near the Gladiators cells just down there.” she pointed down a dusty stairway to the right of the Colosseum.

With a quick ‘thank you’ Calista began down the path coming across a bustling corridor with training men she assumed to be the gladiators and guards. “What's your business here girl?” a bald man walked over to her.

“I'm looking for a man named Macrinus, is he here?” she asked folding her hands together

He grunted and began walking, commanding her to follow him with a wave of his hand. She moved with him until they stood in front of an archway, “Sire this girl here has a few words for you.”

Calista stepped into the room and watched as Macrinus gave her a once over, “Thank you Viggo you may return to the floor.” After the guard had retreated, Macrinus leaned back and clasped his hands together, “Well why have you come to see me…?” he requested her name.

She moved to sit at a chair in front of the desk, “Calista. My brother was sold to you after our city was attacked and I would like for you to release him. I'll give you anything you require.” 

Macrinus tilted his head before letting out a laugh, “Silly girl, who knows if your brother is still alive.”

“Caius. His name is Caius.” she urged

The man thought for a moment, “Ah yes ‘Cyclops’. Quite the fighter…managed to lose his eye during his first fight here.”

Her face flashed with worry, “He’s still standing then?”

“For now.” Macrinus answered with a shrug. He got up from his seat over to where he had a glass of wine, “I know what you can do for me.”

Calista straightened her posture and put her confident mask in place, “Anything.”

The older man hummed, “I'm sure you’ve heard of the emperors Geta and Caracalla from wherever you have come from?” 

“The twin tyrants?” 

His lips twitched, “Correct. I want to take them down and I had no way of doing so until now. You are a pretty girl, Calista, just their type…”

She furrowed her brows, “I am not following.”

“The emperors are young fragile men. Just the kind who can be turned agaisnt each other when it comes to a young beautiful woman.” he handed her a cup half full of the alcohol.

She swirled the liquid in the cup, “You want me to seduce them? Both of them? How do you suppose I got close enough to do that?” 

“I can handle that without fretting. Though you will need to wear something of more taste.” he gestured to her raggedy dress which she had been wearing for days.

Calista stood, setting the cup back down, “And after I somehow manage to pin them against one another, what after?”

Marcinus took the girl's face in his hands, “I'll take over from there. You'll find I can be very persuasive.”

She scoffed, “And you'll let my brother go?”

He gives her a pat on the cheeks before backing away, “If all goes to plan then yes. Caius will be freed.”

“And if it doesn't?” she anxiously questioned

“Then you'll most likely die at the hands of the emperors.” he shrugged like it was nothing.

Calista let out a breath of air before slowly nodding, “Fine I'll do it.”

“Wonderful!” Macrinus beamed, his smile wide and full of triumph, as though he'd just secured a victory in a game of great importance. “I can arrange for you to meet them as soon as tomorrow. But first, let me tell you a little about them.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the edge of his desk as he considered the task at hand. “Geta is the older twin,” he began, his tone steady and assured. “He’s the one I consider the true leader. Handles most of the imperial duties, keeps things running smoothly. He's a sharp, methodical person who expects loyalty, and demands it. He’s the one you’ll have to watch closely.” Macrinus paused, rocking back slightly, as though trying to find the right words for the next part. "Caracalla, on the other hand..." He shook his head, a flicker of something between amusement and disbelief crossing his face. "Crazy, to put it lightly. He's unpredictable, impulsive and makes decisions on a whim, often with disastrous results. He'll be the easy one to handle, no doubt. But it’s Geta you need to worry about." He sat forward, his gaze sharpening. "Geta is the real challenge. If you can get to him, take him down, the rest will fall into place.”

She regarded Macrinus for a moment, her expression calm but calculating. "I see," she said slowly, her voice smooth and confident.

Macrinus tipped his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'll have my servant prepare your bath, clothes, everything. If all goes well with the twins tomorrow, they'll likely request a room for you at their palace."

She blinked, a furrow of confusion crossing her brow. "Wait, hold on," she said, her voice calm but edged with uncertainty. "Just like that? They’ll let me in? You make it sound almost too easy."

“It’s not as difficult as you’re making it sound,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring. “The twins are accustomed to intrigue and manipulation, but they both believe in appearances. A beautiful, well-dressed woman appearing as if by chance? They’ll think nothing of it. The way you present yourself will make all the difference.” He paused, watching her carefully. “Don’t overthink it. If you act confident, poised, and play to their egos, they’ll let you in without a second thought.

She chuckled sarcastically, the tension in her expression easing for a moment. "Let's hope I'm as good of an actor as I've been told then." Her voice was dry, but there was a flicker of determination beneath it.

“Cordelia!” Macrinus called for his servant. “I'll have her get you cleaned up. Get a good night's rest and get ready for tomorrow.”

“If sleep can even call upon me.” With that, she exited, the weight of what was to come settling on her shoulders. Tomorrow would tell whether the pieces would fall into place or whether she'd be walking into a trap.

_✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩_

check out my masterlist pinned on my profile

[reidmotif]

Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different. 

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age. 

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again. 

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit. 

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out. 

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets. 

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be,  the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular,  but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom. 

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again. 

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide. 

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known. 

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.” 

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion. 

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.” 

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions. 

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself.  “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic. 

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion. 

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated. 

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?” 

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.” 

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong. 

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her. 

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft. 

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.” 

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say,  but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile. 

“You waited.” She says, softly. 

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling. 

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. 

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets. 

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar. 

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her. 

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand. 

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away. 

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.” 

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice. 

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words. 

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly. 

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that. 

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me. 

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says. 

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.” 

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says. 

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me.  And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious. 

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart. 

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.” 

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs. 

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her. 

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.” 

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.” 

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

 “6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.” 

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.” 

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely. 

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup. 

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there. 

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here? 

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?” 

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

 I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly. 

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment. 

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze. 

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine. 

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was. 

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one. 

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such. 

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-” 

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine. 

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.” 

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan. 

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want. 

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion. 

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly. 

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before. 

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-” 

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine. 

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us. 

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me. 

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her. 

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her. 

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.” 

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out. 

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her. 

“What about?” 

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly. 

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her. 

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers. 

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one. 

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

[violetdawn001]

What is with the Dreamer's Houses? Herrah's Den

Okay, we can all agree that Team Cherry put a LOT of thought into crafting the backgrounds and environments of Hollow Knight. But why is nobody talking about the designs for the Dreamers' houses?! Especially compared with their base forms?  Well, let's start talking about it!

Herrah

This is Herrah's design:

Herrah is massive compared to several creatures we have come across in Hallownest. While her mask and horns give off sharp and spooky vibes, take a look at her bottom half. It is round and supported by many limbs.

In comparison, Hornet is far slimmer than her mother, which can either come from her father's genes, her age, or lack of nutrition. Herrah, however, is matured in both mind and body. Herrah's body is like a woman's body which has gone through a pregnancy: stretched and curvy. I do not mean it in a demeaning way. No, these are Herrah's battle scars that she wears proudly as Hornet's mother.

Do people think about that when they see Herrah? No.

At first, they are put off by Herrah's sharp horns and six eyes. It is a mental aspect of our brains to associate sharpness with threats. But the roundness in character design is often associated with warmth and approachability.  This Beast is the same person who Hornet called "Mama"; the deadly hunter queen who cuddled her baby.

By the time we meet Herrah within the Dream Realm to strike her, we should already know that she is Hornet's mother and be conflicted about killing her. Herrah's design only adds to the drama as we listen to Herrah's last words "For her…for her…"

Herrah is a Seal but also a Mom and a Queen. And most likely the main reason why anyone writes AUs sparing the Dreamers.

But I have written too much about Herrah. Let us check out her den!

The entrance is carefully spun while the door is framed by metal design not seen in Hallownest, implying that the Weavers know both the arts of metalwork and weaving.

After entering the Beast's Den, you are treated to a large hall. It seemed to have served as a dining hall, meeting hall, and war room in the past. Now, it is solely used to "prank" any visitors.

Both pictures, however, are the only ones that visitors see when they come to the Beast's Den. Unless you count the distorted view you get as you try to peer through the silk before you get eaten.  Now, if you are lucky enough to be seen as a visitor and not future food, you will see the Weavers are crafty and capable in many arts: weaving, metalwork, and war.

Now, apply that to Herrah and you should carefully take a few steps away.

This, however, is what is applied to Herrah based on a public area. It is time to enter the Beast's Den proper.

And immediately you start to have claustrophobia.  Webs everywhere…

Need I say more?

There is light, but it is very soft and in-between. Your lantern must suffice. But for the Weavers and Herrah, the light from the few lamps is more than enough.

Herrah's Den does not seem to be just for her glory alone, however, as several masks are seen.

IMPORTANT! Neither mask belongs to Herrah! The first mask is too round, like one the few Weavers we find alive in Deepnest, while the other is a Stalking Devout as seen by the hole where the mouth would go.

As for their significance, we are unfortunately left without a guide to tell us anything. But if they were in Herrah's Den with such fine art surrounding them, then Herrah wanted these masks there to honor whoever the masks represent. This detail speaks volumes of how Herrah greatly respects those whom she believes are worthy of honor, even if you must to travel into her den to know of her respect.

As for respect, let us see how the Weavers paid their last respects to Herrah as she laid dreaming to protect them all.

First, the room is the most lit in the whole den due to wide array of candles. Second, the webs are everywhere, but the angles framing the space make it far nicer on the eye (unlike the rest of the den. 😬). Herrah herself is laid perfectly centered, framed by two banners hanging. Even her hands are neatly folded in rest. This is no longer Herrah's home; it is her shrine.

Yet it seems that the Weavers are the ones who highlighted the importance of Herrah. The queen, after all, cared more about her people and daughter than herself. Of all the banners hung, the only markings on them are the six eyes of the Weavers, not just Herrah. It is her people's flag, not Herrah's. 

One last thing to mention before moving on to the other Dreamers, is asking Herrah what in goodness gracious is this?!

As it is deep within Herrah's den and there are more pressing questions in Hollow Knight, I have not seen many attempts to answer it. As such, we have literally no idea except for some insight provided by the Fandom wiki. I quote:

Beast’s Den Shrine

"A room located in the west part of the Beast’s Den contains an unknown being. The file names for the sprites in this room refer to the area as a ‘shrine’. Hitting the being with the Nail produces a metallic sound. Hitting it with Spells makes a seal appear over it. It is unclear if this being is the corpse of an ancient bug or a statue.” Taken from the Hollow Knight wiki: Ancient Civilisation - Hollow Knight Wiki.

If this is true, then we found what Herrah worshiped, or at least what she let her people worship within her den. Whatever this thing, it is not Weaver in origin. The seal used on it does NOT match up with the various Weaver seals of protection we see in the rest of the game. Perhaps the Weavers learn how to make such seals and spells by studying this creature? If so, then it shows how Herrah is willing to learn from others to protect her people.

Willing to learn from anyone but Hallownest.

The bench and elevator are destroyed, specifically the ones from Hallownest as seen in their designs. It is not that Herrah does not like benches, but that she doesn't like Hallownest. See proof below.

The Bench design here fits far better with the Weaver metalwork than the broken bench in the Stag Station. 

Herrah will use Hallownest to benefit her people, but it will always be on her terms.

Even the existence of the Stag Station is to further trade to increase power and influence for the Weavers while lowering the risk to them. Pro-Hallownestian or Pro-Weaver, you must admit that Herrah acts like a queen should, forever serving her people.

And that is all I could find! If you have any thoughts or questions, comment or reblog down below!

This is a part series to see if I can fit everything in. I hope you enjoyed Herrah's den!

Part 2.0: Monomon's Archives: Here

Part 3.0: Lurien's Spire : Here

Part 3.25: More of Lurien's Spire: Here

Part 3.5: Lurien's Spire: Pillows and Patriotism: Here

Part 3.7 Lurien's Spire: What is wrong with Lurien's Office?! Here

Part 3.8: Even, even More of Lurien's Spire: Secret Room: Click here

Part 3.9 Watcher Knight Boss Room! Here

Part 4.0 What We Know We Don't Know About the Dreamers' Houses: Click Here

Link to essay on Ao3: Here

[nightmarearian]

Turns out, Odysseus thinks hysterically, being on a magic island with a Titan’s child for seven years has… affects.

What the fuck, he thinks. Calypso and Hermes looks just as confused as he feels. (Which rules out that this might be one of Calypso’s schemes. She can’t truly act for the life of her; It’s always in her eyes and she can’t do a long act).

There are scales on his arms. And legs. And neck. And basically everywhere, actually. They come in patches and in different concentrations; The biggest batch is the one already consuming his abdomen, and meeting with the ones growing on his thighs and just generally his legs The other highest concentration is on his elbows, and they spread faster down towards his hands.

They’re a mix of sea-green-blue and gray; Some of the pale-soot colored scales bounce off a warm hazel or sunset-orange in the dappled sunlight that leaks through the trees. The gray - and especially the warm-gray - patches have some dusky gray and sepia feathers peaking out, in between the scales. The most of them are around his neck or from his elbows through his forearms. His hands have grown into aqua tipped webbed claws as well.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, he thinks on a loop. As he huffs a hysterical laugh, he can feel his teeth having sharpened into needle point snake-like fangs and on that point - his tongue has thinned into something rough and forked. A snake’s tongue as well. The panic increases. (There are whispers in the wind now, feeling of his dead crew).

His ears twitch as he looks at his reflection in a nearby stream, peacefully running like everything in Ogygia, and - holy mother of Zeus what the fuuuuck

His… ears (can he even call them that? His hearing still seems the same…) have transformed into… fins? They remind him of the sirens’ ears, actually, though a bit wider and thinner. They’re mainly the same sea-green-blue color that the scales decorating mainly his lower half are, only fading into a cool blue gray as they near his head. …Are those more feathers behind his fin-ears??? (Scratchy ghost hands reach out of the water, like they did the River Styx. Not real, not real, he automatically tells himself, ignores them).

He turns back to the two gods, who are still staring at him; He feels his fin-ears(???) dip down in panic.

Hermes at least seems like he’s thinking - and worried - even if Odyseeus can’t see his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at Calypso much for anything, but the quick glance he gives seems to spell a similar expression, if not with a bit of… anger. Or disgust. (He hopes it’s the latter; He still feels a spike of fear at the anger. Nothing good ever came of her, much less of her anger).

(Odysseus doesn’t notice in his hysteria, but as his breathing picks up, his legs fuse together, into a snake tail. Hermes catches the moment).

Hermes seems to have thought of something, as his shoulders drop just the slightest and he slowly floats towards Odysseus, as if he was an unbroken horse (or monster, Odysseus thinks. He did say he’d become the monster but this- this is-), holding his hands in front of him in a placating gesture.

“Calm,” Hermes breathes in soft voice. Odysseus tries to follow the god’s orders. “Calm,” Hermes whispers again.

He’s done this before, he thinks, as he turns his gaze on the grass floor, unfocusing. Despite whatever in his gods forsaken travels or the war. Shut it all off. (turn off your heart, a ghost Athena murmurs behind him. Not real, he knows. Follows anyway. Why didn’t he listen to her all those years ago.)

Odysseus can’t do it as.. cleanly as usually could with the whole… well. But he tampers it down a bit. Evidently at least Hermes is willing to help. (He ignores his thoughts on how Penelope might react). They’ll… figure something out.

He tries to think about it calmer; He can feel his panicked tangled thoughts flow into a familiar, calmer weaving feeling, like whenever he makes a good plan and all it’s variables. Is it a curse from Poseidon? The fins and sea-green make him think that, if not for the feathers that are definitely not part of the Earthshaker’s realm. The feathers actually make him think of Athena but- but she didn’t answer him earlier- or did she? Hermes seemed uncomfortable and oddly tightlipped about… something; Something happening in Olympus, Odysseus can guess that much. Regardless, the most of… this seems to a snake. Snakes are either of Athena, Hermes, or Ares.

“d...eus,”

Odysseus has never even met Ares, that goes to Diomedes, he absentmindedly thinks - only Hermes and Athena, and the silver & sienna scales and feathers are very in their domain, however, Hermes obviously doesn’t know much about it, so he can really only think it’s Athena - the myth of Medusa flashes in his mind - except again, he points out against himself, the fins. They’re so clearly Poseidon, and he knows the both of them - Athena better - enough that he knows they’d rather impossibly die that work together for something as so small as a curse.

“Ood...seuusss,”

But if Poseidon can hold a grudge and he knows Athena well enough to know that she does to, as much as she denies, but still then, why would it be years after - is it cause he called to her?

“Odysseus!” Hermes half yells. The mortal in questions jumps, standing again. …When did he stop standing in the first place …wait a minute was he higher than usual earlier? Think about that later, Odysseus tells himself, shaking off the familiar feeling of fading into his thoughts.

Odysseus looks up towards Hermes, who looks a bit worried, but not as panicked as he did earlier. Odysseus looks back down at himself. There are still some scales and feathers, but considerably less. His hands have dulled down - they’re still sharper than usual, but they’re not claws, and the webbing between them is similarly less.

He feels around his mouth. His tongue is still… forked, but that’s all - still a human tongue otherwise; his fangs are still sharp, though.

“Yesss?” It’s harder to speak with a forked tongue and fangs. There’s a slight hiss and lisp at the end of the word.

Hermes doesn't respond, glancing at Calypso, then Odysseus, then Calypso again before partially turning to her, lips pressed, adopting a colder expression, like he did when he was addressing Calypso earlier, to tell them Odysseus was finally free. Hermes nods his head towards the general direction of Calypso’s ‘home’. Calypso opens her mouth, indignant, but the pressure in the air increases as Hermes’ wings stretch up and out, spreading the feathers in an act Odysseus can somehow instinctively tell is meant to intimidate. Calypso closes her mouth, still looking upset but cowed, and she runs off.

Hermes turns back to him, the wings furling back into resting near the god's ears, pressure in the air lifting. He stares for another moment, before sighing and giving Odysseus a small smile, infinitely softer than his usual mischievous ones.

He floats towards Odysseus (careful and gentle and so much unlike Calypso-) and tucks some of his curls behind his slightly-webbed ears, careful around the scales; he lightly ruffles his head like he used to when Odysseus was so, so much younger.

"Should be fine, my friend," Hermes whispers. "Rises with your emotions, no?" Hermes watches the wheels turn in Odysseus' head. Yeah, Odysseus thinks, mind blank in a good way that it hasn't been in a long while. Okay. He nods. "Smart, kid," Hermes whispers.

One of Hermes' ear-wings twitch, and his head minutely tilts towards Calypso's 'home' before tilting back to Odysseus. Hermes softly runs his hand behind Odysseus' head and leads him towards the beachside. There's a raft bobbing back and forth with the waves.

They're really letting me go, Odysseus walks towards the raft, water splashing against his legs. He turns back to Hermes who- is gone- wait no; Hermes flits back from somewhere, wings fluttering and a moderately large basket full of food, water, and clothing in his hands that he pushes into Odysseus' hands.

The god gently hurries Odysseus onto the ship, and after setting down the basket helps him push the raft into the open sea. With Hermes' help, Odysseus is far enough out to barely see the shape of Calypso, once she made to the coastline; Odysseus turns his head away from her. From Ogygia.

Hermes stays with him for a while, until Ogygia's silhouette is shrouded in fog, fading into sky. Hermes watches it fade away, as Odysseus keeps his eyes trained to the open sea (Captain-).

The messenger god turns back to Odysseus, and hovers in front of him. He lightly ruffles his hair again, and his hand cups the side of his head as Hermes ducks his head down and presses a kiss to his great-grandson's forehead.

"Call my name, and I shall be there," Hermes murmurs with a fond smile. With that, Hermes dissipates in a quiet flutter and feathers.

-

ok. so. this developed into great-grandfather hermes. uhm. yeah. anyway. so, in procrastinating on this I now have a full tag for monster-ody-au, it's called Ithacan Naga AU.

*ody has been dissociating his entire stay on Calypso’s island, besides maybe the first year, where he hadn’t spent enough time to be affected. His heightened emotions at leaving cause the actual affects to show, btw.

So! There's absolutely a ref post with a verrry long conversation in the replies that talks about it but to formally do it/add onto it: > Ody's scales are mainly/usually sea-blue-green to gray/purple, but changes colors based on lighting! > Ogygia isn't meant to be inhabited by normal people (or smth), so after seven years + Calypso's inherent magic (as a titan's daughter) it changes Odysseus into basically what Ithacans/Ody would be if he was greek monster, which is why he doesn't notice it & why it's overall very natural. -> Ithacans would really just be sea-snake nagas with some feathers. Ody is special cause he's a descendent of Hermes (and maybe Zeus) & Athena blessed, so he gets wings. > He's venomous! > He can "unhinge" his jaw (Snakes have an extra[?] bone called a quadratic bone that connects the top half of their skull & their jaw, which lets them extend it more. The jaw is also in two parts & has a stretchy ligament to let it stretch). > Full length naga, Ody is like... 27-33 ft? > He has three pairs of wings, one of the small of his back, near his waist, and the other two on the side of his snake half. > He gets gills! Three near his human ribs, a few several spaced out throughout his snake half.

Small headcannons that make a cameo in this: > Hermes used to hang out with little Odysseus (and Ctimene) before Athena (and Ares) came along and chose Ody (and Mene) > Ody has schizophrenia (and PTSD, by now).

...my battery is about to die & I can't remember anything else so that's all for now

[moonselune]

Wyll x Drow!reader | Leap of Faith

had to write something to accompany this

The night air was crisp, laced with the lingering scent of damp earth and crushed leaves. Moonlight bathed the forest clearing in a soft, silvery glow, illuminating the narrow path that led from the river’s edge to the towering trees beyond. You stood there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, shifting your weight from foot to foot as impatience and worry warred inside you.

Wyll was late.

He was never late.

A thousand thoughts whirled through your mind, each one darker than the last. Had something happened? Had he been caught? It was no secret that Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard disapproved of you, had never bothered to hide his disdain whenever Wyll so much as mentioned your name.

The man was a legend—a stalwart protector of Baldur’s Gate, a symbol of law and order. And you? You were drow. That alone had sealed your fate in his eyes. Never mind that you had fought to protect the city, bled for it just as Wyll had. Never mind that you had spent your entire life trying to prove that you were not like the kin who still lurked in the depths of the Underdark, weaving their webs of cruelty and deceit.

To Ulder, you would always be one of them.

You could stomach his hatred—you had faced worse, after all. But Wyll? Wyll bore the weight of his father’s expectations, shouldered them like a burden he had long grown used to carrying. You had seen the way he tensed whenever the Grand Duke’s name was spoken, how his smile turned brittle, how his gaze darkened with something bitter and unspoken.

You had told him, time and time again, that he didn’t have to fight for you. That you could endure the disapproving glances, the whispered insults, the veiled threats. What you couldn’t endure was the thought of him suffering for your sake.

A rustling noise jerked you from your thoughts. You turned sharply, ready to berate him for making you worry—but the words never left your lips.

Wyll stumbled into the clearing, his usual noble composure entirely shattered. His coat was askew, his shirt half-untucked, and his once-pristine curls were now tangled with twigs and leaves. A streak of dirt smudged his cheek, and—were those bruises? Your heart clenched.

"Wyll!" you rushed forward, reaching instinctively for him, but hesitated at the last second. "What happened?"

Wyll, breathless and grinning, shook his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" You gestured wildly to the state of him. "You look like you just fought off a pack of rabid wolves—!"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, well… not wolves, exactly."

Your eyes narrowed. "Explain."

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face before meeting your gaze.

"My father finally figured it out," he admitted. "Realized I wasn’t just taking evening strolls through the lower city for my health."

You inhaled sharply. "Wyll."

"He forbade me from taking another step down the manor stairs."

You stiffened. Your grip on your arms tightened. "Then how did you get here?"

His grin widened. "Window."

Silence. You blinked. "You what?"

"Jumped." He gestured vaguely behind him. "Right out of the window. Landed in some bushes."

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. "Wyll."

"I tucked and rolled!" he added, as if that somehow made it better.

"You jumped out of a window—"

"Tucked and rolled!" he insisted.

"Do you want to die?!" He had the audacity to laugh.

"Absolutely not," he said, then grinned, all boyish charm and reckless affection. "Though I would risk a broken leg if it meant getting to see you."

Despite yourself, you groaned, raking a hand through your hair. "You are impossible."

"Mm. And yet—" He stepped closer, lowering his voice, his smile softening. "You love me anyway."

You exhaled heavily, leveling him with a glare that held no real heat. "Unfortunately."

His grin turned smug, but before he could say anything else, panic surged through you.

"Wyll—your father—" You grabbed his arms, scanning the darkened forest behind him. "Surely he followed you?"

Wyll chuckled, shaking his head as if reliving the memory. "Oh, he tried."

You swallowed nervously, panic rising in your chest. "And?"

He shrugged. "I think he realized that if I was willing to jump out of a window for you, there was truly no point in trying to keep us apart." His expression softened, voice dipping to something more tender. "It would be a waste of effort."

The breath caught in your throat. Ulder Ravengard had given up. He had spent so long trying to pull Wyll away from you, trying to keep him tethered to the image of the noble hero he had envisioned for his son. And now—he had let go.

Your chest tightened, something fragile and aching welling up inside you. Slowly, you reached up, cupping Wyll’s face, tracing the smudge of dirt on his cheek with your thumb. He stilled under your touch, breath hitching ever so slightly. You didn’t let yourself think, didn’t let yourself hesitate—you surged forward, capturing his lips with your own.

Wyll made a soft, startled sound, but then—gods, then he melted into you, one hand finding your waist, the other threading into your hair. His lips were warm, insistent, home.

Then, suddenly—he winced. You immediately pulled back, heart hammering. "What?"

He exhaled a breathy laugh, rubbing his ribs. "Landed harder than I thought."

Guilt surged through you. "Wyll, I—I'm sorry, I didn’t—"

"You could kiss it better," he suggested, voice dipping into something playful, teasing.

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks burned. "You are insufferable."

"And yet—?" he prompted in a sing-song tone, repeating your previous conversation not moments ago. You sighed dramatically, then leaned in, pressing the softest kiss just below his jaw. His breath hitched.

"Mm," he hummed, arms tightening around you. "That does help."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Come on," you murmured, tucking yourself against his chest. "Let’s go get you a drink and maybe some bandages."

Wyll smiled against your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

"Lead the way."

Guys I had to, work is stressing me out and I had to write something with my baby boy. My stupid baby boy. But by gods do I love him and I hope you love him too. Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[smilesatdawnmain]

Big Family Au

Pick your Adventure 1

(Day with MK Part 3)

Previous

Next

—-//

After some debate, you decide on the Silken Cradle.

The Silken Cradle was a shop tucked away at the end of the market road, its entrance framed by cascading silk banners in every color imaginable. The air inside was warm and fragrant, carrying the scent of incense and freshly dyed fabric. Bolts of silk, satin, and brocade lined the walls, their patterns ranging from delicate floral motifs to bold, geometric designs.

As you got a little closer, MK seemed a tad tense, noting a very particular symbol above the door of a Spider atop a purple rose. “That’s-” he turned sharply to you, giving a toothy and rather nervous smile, “Y-You sure you want this shop??” he tossed his hands around, “I mean cause- cause uhhhh- there is an exciting shoe shop right down the road that would probably be so much more exciting, right?? Who cares about clothes-”

“Who cares about “Clothes”??” a chilling voice repeated his outrageous words.

MK nearly leapt two feet in the air, squeaking loudly and rushing to hide behind you, cowering.

The voice belonged to a tall, elegant figure who emerged from the shadows of the shop. Her long, silken hair as dark midnight, and her eyes glimmered with a mix of amusement and mild irritation.

"Xiaotian," she said, her voice smooth but laced with a teasing edge, "are you suggesting my craftsmanship is... unworthy of attention?" She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly smile.

MK peeked out from behind you, pale, “W-What? N-No no! Not at all Ms. C-Chyou-” he stammered.

“I thought so. Well, I must say I’m surprised little Monkey Kid. I thought for sure I wouldn’t see you near our new shop any time soon,” She chuckled lightly, gesturing with an elegant finger for you to approach, “And who is this little friend of yours?”

“This is Anon,” MK said, still half-hiding behind you, though he managed to straighten up a bit. “They’re, uh, new to the Mountain. I’m just showing them around.”

Ms. Chyou’s gaze shifted to you, her sharp eyes softening slightly as she took you in. “Ah, a visitor. How delightful.” She stepped closer, her movements fluid and graceful, like a spider weaving its web. “Welcome to the Silken Cradle. I’m Chyou, the proprietor of this humble establishment.” a single finger of hers slips below your chin, lifting it slightly to examine you closer. “Fourth Daughter of the Violet Spider Demon, Ruler of the Webbed Hollow.” she removes her hand, noting how you seemed a little puzzled

MK was quick to awkwardly fill in the blanks, “A-A new ally of Flower Fruit Mountain. She is also my Big Brother Haoyu’s-”

(Totally forgot her forehead markings- whoops)

“Yes, we are a small domain towards the South called the Webbed Hollow.” She gave MK a pointed look. “I am here to establish our first official shop within your lands and ensure it’s set up is successful-” her lips curled, “Regardless of my relation to your elder Brother.”

MK’s cheeks burn and he looked down, nodding quietly.

That rings a bell with you, the name Webbed Hollow. A small domain that didn’t have a lot of physical power, but an incredible amount of wealth for the silk it trades. Ruled by the Violet Spider, a powerful demon, and her 6 daughters. It seems they have recently established an alliance with Flower Fruit Mountain. You realize this woman herself is a Spider Demon- and someone MK seems to be quite… nervous around? He was fidgeting nonstop.

Ms. Chyou’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she stepped back, her hands clasped elegantly in front of her. “Now, what brings you to my shop, little one? Are you in need of a new garment, or perhaps something more... exquisite?” she gestures back towards, “I admit, I am not as skilled as my Sisters in the craft, but I have brought many of their designs with me. Many across the realm spend quite the pretty penny even to look at such a collection.,” she tapped her chin, “hmm… Perhaps, if you were to wear it during your tours as free advertising, I could offer a free piece in this collection.” She considered that. “What do you say?”

Option A

Option B

Next part

[aventurineswife]

A Refuge Beneath the Waves

Summary: Sunday seeks solace after a stressful day of diplomatic negotiations. You, a cecaelia with a penchant for playfulness and wisdom, guide him to your secret undersea sanctuary. Amid bioluminescent waters and coral cove serenity, you remind him of the beauty in stillness and the importance of connection, fostering a moment of quiet intimacy between two kindred souls.

Tags: @spinnyboination, Merman!Sunday x Cecaelia!Reader, Fluff, Comfort, Gentle Intimacy, Slow Burn.

The ocean was a symphony, humming its ancient melodies as bioluminescent trails wove through the undersea world. The water shimmered with life, flickering gold and silver as creatures danced through coral and kelp.

Sunday swam with fluid grace, his tail glinting faintly in the dim light of the abyss. His halo, glowing faintly behind his head, illuminated his features in ethereal hues as it pulsed in rhythm with his thoughts. The weight of the day lingered in his mind—a diplomatic encounter gone awry with a neighboring pod, his efforts to broker peace once again met with mistrust. He sighed, pausing mid-swim, his wings twitching faintly in frustration.

"Trouble in paradise, little dove?"

Your voice, warm and tinged with mischief, echoed through the currents. Sunday turned, his eyes meeting yours. You drifted closer, your cecaelian lower half—moving effortlessly through the water. Your eight tentacles, each tipped with bioluminescent patterns, shifted lazily as you watched him with a crooked smile.

"Nothing unusual," Sunday replied softly, his wings fluttering slightly behind his ears. "Merely the usual dance of ideals and realities clashing."

"Ah, the plight of a dreamer," you teased, circling him playfully. "You're far too good for them, you know. Not everyone appreciates the grandeur of harmony."

Sunday chuckled, the sound soft and lilting. "And yet, I cannot abandon the dream. It's... complicated."

"Complicated is just another word for interesting," you countered, stopping in front of him. "Why don’t you let me distract you for a while? You look like you could use a break."

"I—" Sunday hesitated, but your warm gaze melted away his resistance. "Perhaps you're right."

You beamed and reached out, gently taking his hand in yours. Your fingers were webbed, the faintly translucent membrane between them glimmering faintly. Sunday’s touch was cool and calming, and you felt the faint hum of his energy through your skin.

“Follow me,” you said, tugging him along.

The two of you swam together, weaving through the towering kelp forests until you reached a secluded cove. Here, the ocean floor was a mosaic of colorful anemones and gently swaying sea fans, their hues amplified by the glow of the moonlight filtering through the water’s surface above. You guided Sunday to a smooth rock outcropping, settling there as your tentacles curled beneath you in a comfortable nest.

Sunday joined you, folding his tail beneath him. "This is lovely," he murmured, gazing around.

“Isn’t it?” you said, leaning back on your arms. “This is my little sanctuary. A place to just... exist. No politics, no expectations.”

Sunday sighed, his wings relaxing as he mirrored your posture. “I envy that simplicity sometimes.”

You glanced at him, the golden glow of his eyes softer now, contemplative. “You should visit more often,” you suggested. “You don’t always have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. It’s okay to just... be.”

For a moment, Sunday was quiet, the rhythmic sway of the water filling the silence. Then, he gave you a small, genuine smile. “You always know how to bring me back to myself,” he said.

“Someone has to,” you quipped, bumping his shoulder gently.

The two of you stayed there for a while, talking softly about everything and nothing. Sunday’s voice was like the melody of the ocean itself, and you found yourself drawn to his thoughtful words, the way he painted pictures of his dreams and fears. In turn, he listened intently to your stories, his eyes never leaving yours.

As the hours passed, the tension in Sunday’s frame seemed to dissolve. He leaned back against the rock, his wings fluttering faintly as he gazed at the play of light on the water above.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle hum of the ocean.

"For what?" you asked, turning to look at him.

"For reminding me of the beauty in stillness," he replied, his gaze meeting yours. "And for always seeing the best in me, even when I doubt it myself."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you reached out, brushing a strand of silver hair from his face. "That’s easy," you said with a smile. "There’s so much to see."

Sunday’s halo pulsed faintly, its glow a soft, warm gold. He reached out as well, his fingers grazing yours, and for a moment, the ocean seemed to hold its breath.

And in the quiet, beneath the dreaming waves, you found something more profound than words—a connection that needed no explanation, only the quiet truth of its existence.

[littlemisspascal]

Today marks the 3rd anniversary of my fic The Infinity Cube. I can still remember posting the first chapter, hoping at least one person out there liked it, and I can still remember how it felt to reach the end, a feat that wouldn't have been possible without the support of so many kind souls 💗 I wanted to make something for the occasion and having seen so many amazing web weavings out there, I thought I'd give it my best shot 😊

THE INFINITY CUBE: a journey home

Shades of Earth by Beth Revis // I Choose You by Adam Melchor // When Did It Happen? by Mary Oliver // First Love by Jennifer Franklin // The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde // The Bronze Horseman by Paullina Simons // The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman // 10 a.m Is When You Come To Me by Louise Bourgeois // Maybe In Another Universe, I Deserve You by Gaby Dunn // Maybe When the Time is Right You Will Find Me Again - K. Tolnoe // We Were Missing the Present by Mahmoud Darwish // Persona (1966) // Matched by Ally Condie // In the Pines by Alice Notley // It Wasn't Love // La Pointe Courte (1955) // "My better half" by Pablo J. Davis // The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller // Bioshock Infinite // Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar // Oh It Was Meant to Be - Kate McGahan // Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell // If My Body Could Speak by Blythe Baird // Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens // Unending Love by Rabindranath Tagore // The Blinding Star by Blanca Varela // Wild Spirit, Soft Heart by Butterflies Rising // Finding You by Kesha // Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths // Web weaving about the untold story in you // "Feel like making a deal with the devil?" // A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara // Reborn: Journals ad Notebooks by Susan Sontag // I love you like a rotten dog // Sax Rohmer #1 by The Mountain Goats // The Bubble (2022) // Rabbit Hole (2010) // Beginning with O by Olga Broumas // How many times can the same thing break your heart? // War of the Foxes by Richard Siken // On Death in Heartbreak // Lonely Day by System of A Down // This Road (The Mirror is a Trap) by Poe // Memory for Forgetfulness by Mahmoud Darwish // "Do you think we're soulmates in another universe?" // Radio Silence by Alice Oseman // "In one timeline we kiss" - Elizabeth Hewer // Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed // Almond Blossoms and Beyond by Mahmoud Darwish // X // The Collected Poems of Alvaro de Campos by Fernando Pessoa // Excerpt from Moony Moonless Sky's 'I am an observer, but not by choice' // @/lookoflove // Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg // "Do you know what it's like to live somewhere that loves you back?" - Danez Smith // Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros // The Chaos of Stars by Kiersten White // Home // You and Me

All Pedro Photos - Pinterest // Reader in my story is physically a blank slate, I just really like the photo of Javi + Gabriela touching foreheads

[thewertsearch]

@manorinthewoods asked: We're still midway through Act 5, but I'd like to ask - what do you theorise will happen in the rest of A5 and in Acts 6 and 7 of Homestuck? ~LOSS (7/6/24)

It's an interesting question. We're coming up on the halfway point of the comic, but our current main plotlines - namely, Murderstuck, the Blackout, the Green Sun and the Scratch - all feel like they'll be wrapped up in a thousand-ish pages, along with the kids' session and the Act itself. The question of what's next is beginning to present itself, and I have a few thoughts.

My main prediction is that back half of the comic will be extremely English-centric. As the man behind Scratch's schemes, he's going to be revealed as the 'true' villain who's ultimately responsible for the current crisis, as well as crises yet to come. I think he'll elbow Perfect Jack out of the primary antagonist's position - and honestly, his chief minion is already more intimidating than Jack.

To contrast Noir, I think English will be a less instinctive, more cerebral villain. His choice of Scratch as a lieutenant suggests that he's more about carefully laid plans than open aggression, and his absence from the Felt Intermission suggests he prefers to hide in the shadows, weaving a web of conspiracy that would put Vriska to shame.

As a result, I expect the next arc of Homestuck to be more about information warfare than flashy displays of power. Our heroes will need to advance their understanding of the multiverse's wider cosmology, as they come to terms with what English is, what he wants, and most importantly, how to stop him.

The later arcs of the comic will involve discovering a glitch in spacetime that can break through English's supposed invincibility, while English works to keep the protagonists in the dark about his weaknesses. How this weakness could manifest, I can't say - but I do think Spades Slick will be directly involved in his demise.

Outside of English, I think the world of Homestuck will expand in other ways, too. It might finally be time to make contact with other Sburb Players, since our current sessions aren't going to be habitable for much longer. We might even be leaving the 'session' framework behind entirely, and travelling through the Furthest Ring to parts unknown.

I know these aren't very specific predictions, but it's hard to be specific about events which are thousands of pages away. I still don't know how the Pen-Pal fits into everything, for example, or why Gamzee is so important to the story.

I guess we'll find out together!