#and have their own way of showing each other that they care | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hexxynn · 23 hours

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you're my forever | best friend! anakin x fem!reader

word count : 10.2k

warnings : MDNI 18+, anakin and reader are 18, angst, angst, so much angst, self deprecation, reader has a mom named lucille, insecure! reader, modern!, jock! anakin, swearing, anakin worshiping the ground you walk on, reader is described as having a tummy!, praise, even more praise, anakin talks you through it, arguing, readers parents are divorced, pet names, virgin! reader, oral (f receiving), piv, no condom mentioned (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, aftercare (i think that's all?)

summary : you develop feelings for your long time best friend, anakin. you fall into a pit of bedrot trying to cope and push him away, only for him to push back. what you didn't know is that he felt the same way.

a/n : my first fic ever pls be kind lol, this is my first time writing smut too, so any tips would be appreciated! im lit new to tumblr so please don't be afraid to request anything. also im literally a slut for angsty sex and praise can you tell? also this isn't proofread soz

You didn't know when your feelings had turned from platonic, to overwhelmingly romantic.

Honestly? It was scary.

You had known Anakin for a while, him being your neighbor for most of your life. That was, until you moved, but only to downsize after your parents split. The quaint neighborhood, the only thing you had ever known, being torn away from you. Luckily— your parents didn't want to move far, so you stayed put in the same town, just in different neighborhoods.

You were two when you guys met, both of your toddler selves adorned with the aroma of innocence and childhood. Your moms had both bonded, over the struggle of motherhood, while you two seemed to find each other in the purity of your early years. He came up to you, with a simple ask to push him on the swing; an offer you couldn't refuse. Retorting with an, "as long as you push me after," which couldn't help but earn an eager grin from Anakin.

As you two pushed each other, giggles and laughs emerging from the silence of the neighborhood, your mothers had noticed the bond and smiled; knowing their friendship, and the one forming by the swing sets, would go on past this little encounter. They exchanged numbers, beams from ear to ear, knowing they found comfort in each other, and a pal for their children.

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As time went along, they set up playdates, leaving you two to watch shows, and do little things only young kids would do, whilst they sat on the back porch of your house with a wine glass in hand. You and Anakin would watch silly things, and you would play with his toy cars; in exchange, he'd play dolls with you (no matter how girly it was, or how frustrated he got in his three year old brain).

The neighborhood gossip would flow from their lips. Inside, the sounds of juvenility and jolly would make themselves present in some of your earliest memories. Your moms has been content with the current exchange. The simple call to come over, no matter whose house, with the almost immediate response from the other, and you and Anakin were dragged into their friendship, building one of your own. It worked out nicely.

As you grew up, playdates turned into school, and he was your best friend in elementary. Bus stop hand holding was the cause of teases from the boys (not the girls, who thought it was 'cool' you were able to get a kindergarten boyfriend), eliciting a shrug of nonchalance from Anakin. He would defend you, and go back to the swing sets with you, returning back to your place of blossoming friendship. He didn't care much for what the six year olds had to say, knowing you already for over half of his life. The bond your mothers had created was stuck, and would be for a while.

Once you got to middle school, there was a shift, though. He found his guy friends, understanding the game that adolescents liked to play with jokes and gossip. While he still walked you to the bus stop, he didn't see you as much in school. Especially with the deferring interests you two had grown. You had become a bookworm, immersed in studies as soon as you entered the next phase of your life, while he became athletic and would stay after school to play soccer with the other boys in the field behind school. Nevertheless, he'd come home and his mom would tell him they're going to your house. With no protest— he'd go. He would never turn down seeing you. Without prying eyes and weird looks, he could be himself and return to the faithful friend he'd had for so long. The simplicity and routine created never felt off, even as the times changed. He would always run back to you.

Until High School started. Things changed yet again, messing with the routine you two had created. He didn't walk you, or drive you to school, but would bring you food, smile at you in the halls, and nod his head in the structured environment of school. It was more than middle school. You two still saw each other as much as possible, but hangouts got a lot different. He got into football, and the schedule was rigorous. Yet, you'd still go to his games, cheer him on, and wait until he got home to personally congratulate him. He never even let flings, or girlfriends throughout the years, change his behavior towards you. It had never been explicitly romantic, but you two were closer than most. He'd hold your hand to drag you to his room, and vice versa. He'd let you drape his legs across him on the couch, or let him spin you around in a hug after his games.

He saw you more than middle school, his maturity hitting him slightly. He valued you, and you valued him, and that was one of the first things he'd ever known. This platonic relationship he held with you, was one of the things he cherished most. He wouldn't let anything get between you two, no matter what was to come in the future. He'd never let you go.

You on the other hand, immersed in studies and prepping for college, had turned a lot of hangouts into study dates. Which was okay with him, as long as you two got to see each other. He'd lounge in your room while you sat at your desk with a textbook and computer. He'd bring you food when your mom called that dinner was ready, knowing your academics had pulled you away from reality. His nurturing nature stayed the same.

You two had both gotten into different colleges, across the state. He got a football scholarship, and you got an academic scholarship at a prestigious college on the west side. You knew what was to come as the summer after senior year approached.

What you didn't know was to come, was your feelings towards him.

You didn't know when your hand holding started making your tummy flutter, or when his hands tracing patterns on your calves had you feeling flustered. Sure, he changed a lot in High School. He got muscular, grew his hair out, had more charm and appeal. He had girls swooning. But you? You never expected to be one of those girls.

Coming to terms with your feelings was definitely a task.

At first, it was jealousy. Jealousy towards the girls who were able to openly fawn over him, with Anakin relishing in the attention they bestowed on him. He loved living in this spotlight, and the rush he got when girls would whisper and giggle sentiments about him. He adored all of the looks and the eye fucks he would get in the halls. It was an ego boost.

You wished so terribly you could be one of those girls. The ones he'd kiss after his games, the ones who went out with him on Friday nights. You just weren't that girl.

Sophomore year came with heated jealousy, and Junior year came with longing. Senior year, you slowly came to terms with it. It wasn't until after graduation, when you relished in all the attention he would give you on summer days, that you fully realized what you were feeling. You had never had a boyfriend throughout all your years, academics taking priority over any man.

The beginning of summer was torture.

He was mindful of his last couple of months with you, giving you his full, undivided attention.

And you fucking loved it.

At the same time though, you hated it. The torment of the sudden affection you received, along with an endless stream of texts and calls when you two couldn't be together. It made your feelings all the more real, and you couldn't do it any longer.

You were then slowly trying to distance yourself, for your own sanity, to protect your feelings and soften the blow of college. You were frustrated, angry, and hurt all at the same time. It wasn't his fault, but your brain blamed him for all of it. You were starting to resent him, and hole up in your room, only coming out for meals and water. It had been this way for about a week now, in the middle of June, and the contrast from this to the way you were two weeks before was startling. Especially to Anakin.

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Your mom, Lucille, was standing on her back porch per usual, pacing around her best friend, also known as Anakin's mom. Though she was across town, it wasn't far. A mere ten minute drive at most.

"I just don't know what's gotten into her, you know? One minute she's going out almost every day with Ani, the next she's- she's- god!"

Lucille was very annoyed, to say the least. The state she had found you in was worrying her, and her financial situation with college didn't assist in her anxiety.

"Did something happen between her and Ani?" Lucille pondered, quirking a brow up inquisitively at her friend, sighing. "Not that I know of. In fact, he's been asking about her," Shmi sighed heavily. "She might just be stressed about university, you know?"

"I know... but she normally comes to me about these things, Shmi! And now she's this void," Lucille sat down, wine sloshing in the glass.

Shmi rubbed her back, smiling softly. "Just be patient, Lucy, maybe try to have a heart to heart with her? Sit down with her," Shmi pondered.

"Yeah... yeah, sure. I'll do that," Lucille returned the soft expression Shmi reflected onto her, letting out a huff. "Can you come by tomorrow morning? I'll keep you updated," she asked, while Shmi rubbed her back.

"Of course. I'll head home, love you," Shmi replied, standing up and walking into the cool air of the house, watching the moonlight cast the house in a low glow. The hardwood floors leading to the front door were bleached from the sun, it's constant rays hitting the floor from the many windows in the home.

"Love you, too," Lucille wrapped her friend in a hug, wishing her off. "What to do," she looked at her feet, shutting and locking the door, heading upstairs to talk to you.

She heard soft music coming from your room, probably from the speaker Anakin had gifted you Junior year. She recognized the soft hum of your voice, and Lucille was then unsure if she wanted to disturb your peace. But, she knew it was for the better.

A soft knock resonated in the empty hallway, and she heard your hums stop, followed by your music. Your footsteps could be heard trekking to the door, that once opened, revealed darkness in your face.

Your bags were heavy, face devoid of any feeling as you tilted your head to the side, "Hey, what's up?" You muttered, avoiding eye contact with your mother.

"Can I come in?" Your mom requested, analyzing every feature you once held. It was sad, depressing, and a mess all in one. You straightened your spine, opening your door wider and flicking on the light. With no words, you sat on your bed, the white comforter all messy and tangled in an array of clothes; unfolded laundry you were too tired to do.

Your mother sat next to you, placing a hand on your back. "Is everything okay?"

"Mhm, why do you ask?" You force a smile, nodding your head. Your appearance spoke much differently though, along with the state of your bedroom. Your hair in a messy updo, and your clothes scattered around the carpet. Spandex and an oversized tee adorned your figure, hiding the body you once loved to dress up with random articles of clothing, a uniqueness reflected in your personality onto your style.

This wasn't you.

"You've been in your room for a few days now, what happened to your summer plans? The job you were looking for?" Lucille removed her hand, placing her cheek in her hand.

You again avoided eye contact, looking to your window. "I'm just tired, Mama," you replied in a hushed tone, chewing on your already scabbed lip.

"I know, hon, I know. But we're all worried. Me, Shmi, Anakin-"

At the mention of his name, you dropped your head again. Deep down, you knew it wasn't fair to anyone. But you couldn't help it. You'd rather put up your walls before letting yourself get hurt with a stupid crush. "It's okay, I promise," you again put up a facade.

"Is it me? Did I do something?" Your mother started to tear up, placing a hand on her chest. The last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt you. She had never seen this from you before, though.

You finally made eye contact, shaking your head rigorously. "No, of course not. I just need to sleep," you scrunched your nose, trying not to let the tears fall yourself.

"Okay... but if you need anything I'm here, alright?" Lucille stood up then, making her way out the door, shutting off the light on her way out.

In the absence of another person, you felt yourself rotting in self deprecation all over again. The mention of Anakin just hurt you all the more. You hated doing this, you really did, but crying for hours on end seemed to help, even in the slightest.

So, you sat back in your mess of sheets and blankets, music starting up again, as you scrolled through photos of you and Anakin over the years. Even looking at photos of him with girlfriends, his smile brighter than ever. Kisses on cheeks, arms around them in photos. A reminder of something you could never be to him. A hole was making its way into your heart, one that only he could fill, and you were devoid of any reciprocation to your feelings.

But, back at the Skywalker's residence, Shmi had come home, setting her keys on the rack, and plopping down on the couch with a soft thud. Even she was confused and frustrated, thinking of you as one of her own.

At the sound of the door opening, and footsteps, Anakin came tumbling down the stairs, excited to see his mom after a long day of work, knowing she went to your house immediately after her shift.

She perked up at the noise, laying back and turning on the TV. "Hello, Ani," she yelled to the hallway, as he came walking towards the living room.

"Hey, Mom! How was your day?" He asked, setting himself next to Shmi, leaning back in the cushions. His hair was damp from a shower, clad in a black tee and plaid pants.

"It was good, stopped by Lucille's after work," she muttered, with him letting out a chuckle in response. "Assumed so, it's around ten— you're normally not out this late unless it's Lucille's," he nodded. "Did you see Y/N?" He then asked, turning his head to face Shmi.

"No... I didn't. Have you heard from her at all?" Shmi frowned, watching him shake his head and loll it back on the couch, a sigh escaping his lips. "No, I haven't. I'm worried, you know? Did I do something?" He asked, looking for some sort of answer. Your absence was sudden, and no matter how many times he'd call or text, you wouldn't respond. Your location stayed the same as well, the icon staying on your house, so he knew you weren't busy. He didn't want to intrude though, and push boundaries, but he truly had no idea what was going on with you. And it hurt him.

"I don't think so, she's avoiding Lucy as well," Shmi looked at her son quickly while she channel surfed, finding something to hopefully fall asleep to on the plush tan cushions.

Anakin sighed, standing up. "Tell Lucille I'll be over tomorrow, okay? I'll see if I can figure it out, might be too personal to tell her mom about," Anakin assured Shmi, standing up to make his way up the stairs.

"Okay," Shmi replied simply, feeling sleep overtake her soon enough.

Anakin, though, made his way up the stairs, racing to his phone. He pulled up your contact again, pressing the call button, and listening to the same ringing tone that he's heard for the past week bounce off of the walls of his room.

He sighed when it hit your voicemail, the sound of your once cheery self beginning to speak. He hadn't heard your voice in so long, it ached and left him confused. "Tomorrow," he told himself.

He'd see you tomorrow, no matter what it took.

Tomorrow didn't come soon enough, though, leaving Anakin tossing and turning in his sleep. He was so, so tired, so worried, and so anxious about what would happen. He had no idea if he had done something wrong, his brain relentlessly bullying him with 'what if's'. He kept waking up in cold sweats, eyebrows furrowed with concern for you. He cherished you like a lifeline, and he felt like he was slipping away as you did from him. When morning came, he had bags under his eyes, and his hair was tousled with the constant running of his hands through his hair throughout the night. He didn't know what if it went wrong today, or if you gave no response and shut yourself off.

He didn't even eat, too sick to his stomach to do so, waving a small, "bye," to his mother before slipping into his car, and Shmi had sent a text to Lucille as he left.

Shmi

He's on the way.

Lucy

Alright, she's awake. Ty for sending him over 😘

Shmi

Anytime. Want to come over while they talk, give them a little space?

Lucy

On my way.

And with that, Lucille had left her own home, knocking on your door and letting you know where she was going. You had hummed in response, getting into the shower, preparing to repeat the cycle of bed-rot you had created in the recent days.

The water soothed you, hot streams battering on your back as you sunk into the tiled floor. The speaker still let out hushed instrumentals and lyrics of your playlist, allowing you to wallow in your feelings. Not even washing your hair, or your body, you simply laid there. Tears were scarce at this point, not able to flow down your cheeks, as you looked at yourself in your naked state.

You doubted Anakin could ever, ever, love something like this in the way you loved him.

It was honestly sickening, in your opinion, how you destroyed yourself over him. Promises to him left unkept, and your friendship flowed down the drain, following the stream of the water. The sad, angry music you hummed along to only allowed for your wallowing to fester into an ugly knot in your stomach.

Some Phoebe Bridgers lyric had you leaning on the wall, closing your eyes. Too many years wasted. Too many tears shed over Anakin.

As the song was reaching its peak, you were oblivious to the sleek, black jeep that pulled into your driveway. Your room perched in the back of the house, anyway, so it was hard to hear over the shower and the music, along with your own humming. You were unaware of the unlocking of your front door, which Anakin had a key to, and the sound of his footsteps bustling up the stairs of your home. Which would have been bad, had it been an intruder, but it was just your good ol' Anakin.

As he made his way up the stairs, he heard the music in the shower, and the sound of your voice, the murmurs of lyrics you sang along to. He also heard the familiar pattering of your bathroom, having also showered here one too many times after games. Your bathroom was attached to your room, and he didn't want to disrupt, so he simply opened your door and sat on your bed.

When he walked in though, he was shocked. Your entire safe space was in disarray, a mirror of your emotions. If there was one thing about you, though, it was that you were a tad bit messy, but never this bad. He frowned at the thought, and decided to lay back on your messy bed, pulling out his phone to check the time. You should be out soon right?

But as fifteen minutes passed, he was getting impatient. He strolled up to your door, knocking softly.

"Mom, I thought you were at Shmi's?" Your voice was raspy, and quieter than normal, a pang resonating in his heart.

"It's me," he softly said, hand on the door.

You were struck with shock, sitting up immediately, feeling guilty and overwhelmed suddenly.

"I'm busy, come back later?" You pleaded, hoping to avoid him. But if anything, Anakin was persistent, and when he says he's doing to do something, he'll do it. Your brain had hoped silently that he'd take it, making his way out, so you wouldn't have to face him.

He shook his head, "No. We need to talk, now. Are you almost done?" he inquired, leaning his side on the door now, dragging his fingertips over the ridges of the wooden door. You didn't respond, and he didn't hear any movement, so he continued to press. "I swear to God, Y/N, I'll come in there if I have to."

Fear struck your veins, and you stayed silent, hoping he'd go away. "We can talk later, I'm busy," you simply replied, shaking your head at his perseverance. You always adored that about him, but now was a bad time for him to do so. Now, you wanted him gone. He was no longer your sanctuary, but a cause of fear and pain to you. Knowing him, though, he wouldn't stop.

And you were right.

You heard the handle jiggle a little bit, before a groan was let out behind the door. "There is no need to lock the door in your own home," he sighed, turning back to your room. A bobby pin should work, right?

"It's to prevent people from coming in, y'know, like you're trying to do," you rolled your eyes and scoffed, borders and walls making their way back up. You heard his footsteps walking away from the door, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. One obstacle down, right?

But then, you heard the jiggling of the doorknob again, and the click of the lock, and a sense of alarm surged through your veins. "I'm coming in," he announced sternly, before you heard the creak of your bathroom door opening. He had successfully found your bobby pins littered around your vanity, from various updo's you'd style your hair with during school. For a second, he was glad for the mess, which allowed him to find it so easily.

"I'm naked!" You screeched, though the shower curtain covered anything he could possibly see.

He chuckled, scoffing, "I've seen you before," he sarcastically uttered, hands finding purchase on the counter behind him, facing the curtain. The only barrier between you and him in the current moment.

"Yeah, when we were four, asshole," you shot back defensively, groaning at his antics. You still continued to attempt to avoid him, dragging out your shower for as long as possible.

Anakin grabbed the towel off of the seat, reaching into the curtain to shut the water off. "Get out," he demanded, "or I will personally come in there and wrap you in the towel myself," his aggression didn't go unnoticed, knowing now that something was definitely wrong between you and him.

"Fuck, fine," you sneered, standing up and reaching out for your towel, which he handed to you through the curtain. You stood up, wrapping yourself, and peeking through the curtain. Shit, he still looked as beautiful as ever. Even more than the photos you would look at while letting sobs escape your lips. He wore a white ribbed tank top, paired with gray sweatpants, hung low on his hips. He looked like a mess himself, curly hair frayed at his neck, sticking to the skin from the steam.

He raised a brow, looking away in respect for you. "Go get changed, I'll wait here," he muttered, allowing you to be at least respectable before he confronted you. As a result, you zoomed past him, quickly grabbing a pair of drawstring shorts and a hoodie, knowing you wouldn't have to waste time on a bra if you were in something baggier. After slipping into your clothes in your closet, you opened up the bathroom door again, and he followed you forward to the center of your room.

He eyed you up and down, finally taking in your features and your state. Though your hair was dripping wet, he didn't miss the puffy circles around your eyes and the split lip you often had when you worried about something too much. His face softened, ever so slightly, as you sat on the bed in front of him, while he continued to stand in front of your figure.

He broke the silence as soon as you sat, "Y/N..." Anakin muttered, folding his hands across his chest in front of you. You gulped, picking at the strings hanging loose from your shorts, "what's so important that you had to interrupt my shower for?"

"You act like you were doing something important. You've been ignoring everyone for days now," he began, eyeing you up and down as you fidgeted and avoided his eyes. Those damn eyes.

"I was, I was showering. Hygiene is important, Anakin," you retorted, turning your head to the window on your left.

"You know what I mean," he opened up his stance, running a hand through his hair. You hardly ever called him Anakin anymore, just Ani. The fact that you used his first name sent shivers down his spine.

"What do you mean?" You inquired, acting oblivious, hoping he'd leave and let you go back to your previous state. Though, as mentioned, when Anakin was determined to do something, he'd do it.

He took a step closer to you, peering down, "You've been avoiding me for days now. Everyone, for days now," he pouted slightly. "You promised you'd tell me everything, so what's going on? You know I don't judge," he assured you, getting down to face you, sitting cross legged on the carpet of your room.

"It's nothing, I promise," You said the same thing you've told your mother consistently. "It's nothing," you repeated.

"It's not nothing, if it's got you like this," he tried to smile warmly, show you he was there, to bring comfort, to bring peace to your mind. "Yeah, well, it's not something I'd like to share with you."

Now that stung, a pain radiating in his very bones, your words leaving him stunned momentarily. You shared almost everything with him. Everything that ever stressed you, he'd hug you and distract you until you were a laughing and smiling disaster. You had never been so closed off, so defensive.

Unknowingly, unintentionally, he shot back, "I've given you every piece of me to show you how open I am, and you can't do the same back? What happened to you?"

Venom laced his voice, making you finally face him. It made the blow all the more easier, while it also gave you a heartache you couldn't possibly fathom. "Life happened, Anakin. We're no longer silly teenagers living our lives, we're adults. We're growing apart," you let your arms fall to your sides, helpless to the heat and tension growing between you two.

"We're about to go off to college, and I've been spending every waking moment with you. We didn't just drift, something changed. I'm trying my hardest to be here, you know? Support you, give you a hand, and you won't even open up," he shifted uncomfortably, sensing an argument arising, which has never before occurred between the two of you.

"It's nothing you can help, Anakin. It's out of your control, so leave it be, and get out," you persisted.

"Get out? Get out?" He shot straight up, standing up in front of you, inching closer to your balled up figure facing him. "You don't kick me out of a place that is basically my second home," he raised his voice, causing you to stand up to face him at the same time.

Before you could speak though, he continued his banter, "So you admit something is wrong," he pointed to your chest, jabbing your collarbone while he spoke the words, voice booming out in the silence of your bedroom. Your stance was less defensive now, as he slowly broke down the barrier, and he continued, yet again.

"I told you, it's nothing you can help with," you replied with a hushed, raspy voice, not wanting to bicker.

"Just tell me what it is, then? Is it school? Because while I may not be as smart as you, I have damn well studied for hours on end with you. I have given up movie nights, going out with you, for all of that shit. You're perfectly fine. You're set. You've got a scholarship, and you'll be fine!"

He continued to step closer to you, closing the space ever so slowly, as you shrunk under his words. "If it's your daddy, fine! But I watched the divorce, the split happen. I watched as you were torn between your parents, and held your hand through that!"

"So tell me, Y/N, what is different this time around?"

Your throat was dry, not wanting to respond, everything seeming so stupid now. How were you supposed to admit, right to his face, it was him? Anakin, the one who held you, the one who made you laugh, the one making you cry yourself to sleep.

"Is it boy troubles? Because I haven't seen any man swoop down and carry you in his arms, and I would have heard about it from your mom. You haven't told her shit, either. So it's got to be pressing you, huh? Just let it out!"

He continued his verbal attacks on you, his frustrations from everything being let out on you. You wanted to shrink back, run away, but there was nowhere to go. Your gut was churning, bubbling, as a sob almost escaped your throat. "You wouldn't get it!"

"Yeah, I don't fucking get it because you won't tell anyone what's wrong," he immediately responded, again taking another step closer. You swatted the hand that was on your chest away, pushing him back from the close proximity. He stumbled, catching his balance, before turning to the side and letting out a low chuckle. "I see."

He saw the polaroids of you and him, laying on your nightstand, shaking his head, "It's me, huh? What the hell did I do? Just tell me," he almost begged, yelling at the top of his lungs at this point. You glanced back and let tears finally escape your eyes, sniffling from the flow. He noticed, slightly softening, as you began to yell back, finally breaking the dam.

"It is you, idiot! Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you smile at girls like they're everything to you, bring them home at night to cuddle and hold them. It's the way you style your hair, and the way you saunter with your huge fucking ego!"

Oh, now he was confused. You despised his guts because of the way he was? Always has been?

"And you know- you know, I wish I was one of those girls! But you've never even looked at me that way, Anakin! That's the issue! That you've been so oblivious to the way I've wanted you, turning around and fucking other girls while I wait at home for your text that you're safe! It's all of it, Anakin," you let out a choked sob in the midst of your sentence, looking him directly in the eyes, "You go around and play football and don't even give me a sideways glance in the stands! It's so, so wrong to feel this way about you, someone I'm just supposed to care about. But no, I fucking love you, Anakin, and it hurts, it hurts so much. You sit and flirt with the cheerleaders in the cafeteria, giving them kisses on their temples and wrapping your arm around them, in public! But I will never, ever, be one of those girls to you. I will always be the best friend. I will never get to feel you longing for me, and never get to feel you loving me the same! That's what's wrong!"

You finished, letting out a huff, and realizing what you had done. Anakin stayed silent, processing your words, mouth open in shock. You were so terrified, yet so relieved that you had let everything out all at once. You knew now that you had crossed a line, broken a border down in your relationship with him. It had turned from sweet, innocent bliss, to rage and despair, mixed with love and fury. You knew you could never come back from this, back from the words that flew out of your mouth. You were desperate for him, and you would worship the ground he walked on if it meant you could receive one backwards glance held with the passion he held for the other women. But you knew you'd never get that, and you'd spend all of your life searching for a person to fill the hole he created in your heart, but never quite filling it up fully. It would be like a bandaid, covering it up temporarily, but the wound would still exist. It would still rot underneath your skin.

"You mean it?" Anakin simply said, words quiet, as he took a step towards you again, looking into what felt like your soul.

"Every goddamn word."

As soon as the curse left your lips, he grabbed you so swiftly, so tenderly, colliding his body with yours as his breath fanned across your lips, waiting for you to say no. You froze instinctively, still coming to terms with the fact that his hand was laid on the small of your back, the other placed on the back of your head, inching you closer. Before you knew it, the feeling of his lips encompassed yours, with unspoken feelings reverberating through the action. You immediately kissed back, gripping his shirt with the arms in front of you, pulling him instinctively closer. He pushed your frame impossibly close to his, wrapping his arm tighter around you, clutching onto the hoodie you wore.

His hand had gripped your sopping wet hair, earning a small noise elicited from your mouth into his, leaving his kiss softening in satisfaction. It was filled with need, hunger, and years of built up frustration. He handled you so softly, as if you would break, tears still streaming down your cheeks. A sob wracked your chest again, causing him to pull away.

"How in the world could you think I could never love you?" He questioned, bringing you into a hug. You continued to clutch his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. He gingerly set you down to sit in front of him, while he kneeled between your legs. His hands were placed on your knees, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess bestowed upon him.

"I'm not them. I'm not the cheerleaders, or the dancers, or the athletes you date. Look at me, Ani," you grabbed onto his hands, squeezing. His expression showed guilt, love, and anger. Anger at himself, for ever making you feel like this. For ever making you feel like you were the second option, and that he could never adore you. Because for years, he has.

"Oh, honey, you are so much more than them," he brought a hand up to cup your cheek. "I have loved you for so long, I can't believe you ever felt this way," he mumbled, kissing your knees after he uttered the sentiment. "You are everything to me."

He wiped the tears off of your cheeks with his hand, raising himself on his knees slightly. "I'm so sorry I ever made you feel that way, because you are my first and forever love."

"You mean it?" You mocked him, your normal attitude coming back to life. He grinned like a cheshire cat, watching you beam back in the midst of tears.

"Every goddamn word," he mocked back, grabbing your hands and placing kisses on them, "you could never compare to any other girl. You are worth so much more to me, I promise. You are my sun and my moon, my stars, I revolve around you. I love you, so much," he praised you, placing one of your hands on his cheek.

You began to cry again, tears of happiness this time, knowing it was okay.

"No, no, don't cry baby, please," he kneeled up, know facing you directly. "You're too pretty to cry."

You shook your head in disbelief, looking down at your lap.

He kisses your forehead, softly, bringing you close to him. "I'm so sorry," he profusely apologized. He left kisses down the side of your face, peppering you, before meeting your lips again, where you wrapped your arms around his neck as he hunched over. He never once disconnected your kiss as he hooked his hands under your thighs, pushing you back on the bed and under him. The kiss grew more needy, more desperate, as his hands rubbed your outer thighs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. As you did so, you pulled him down closer to you, your two bodies moving in sync with love, care, and adoration.

You tugged on his hair, making him grunt softly into your mouth, making you giggle slightly. "What was that, hm?" You mumbled into the kiss. You honestly were lost with what you were doing, your first kiss taking place on the playground at recess, and had never gone as far as to continue kissing someone.

"God— you, Y/N," he pulled away, looking at you from above, the locks of hair falling from his head, caressing his jaw. He scanned your face for any hesitance, any doubts, and in finding none, he leaned back down, caressing your arms in the process.

"Wait, Ani," you stopped him before his lips could meet yours, bringing one hand to trace along his jaw. "I've never done anything like this before," you mumbled, partially out of embarrassment and nervousness. He had then begun to pull away fully, out of respect for you, before you trapped his hips in with your calves, pulling him back down.

"We don't have to do anything, I promise, I don't expect anything from you, nothing— I swear," he promised, grinning at you from above. "I want you to feel as comfortable as possible," he told you, realization hitting him that you most likely had never done anything beyond kissing, and he didn't want to pressure you into anything you wouldn't want.

"No, that's not what I mean. Ani, I want to," you told him, the heat growing between your bodies, his sweatpants and your shorts being a soft barrier between what could occur.

"You want to?" He questioned, anticipation almost hurting him in his core. You were willing to give him one of the most treasured, most vulnerable parts of yourself, to him, and he couldn't quite fathom that.

"Yes. Anakin, I've always wanted to do this with you, since I knew I fell in love," you leaned up to kiss his cheek, then you kissed the shell of his ear, whispering, "let me be yours."

With that, he bent down to kiss you again, gentle hands and tender touches. "I'll be careful, and tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?"

You nodded, bringing him back down to you, yet again, as the kiss grew heated. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, allowing you to open your mouth, letting his own wrap around yours and explore your mouth. The feeling itself was sensational, and you wished you had confessed sooner. Your hips bucked up to meet his, knowing only clothing separated you two. You reached down to tug on his shirt, enticing him.

He sat up, ripping his shirt off quickly, and you took the time to admire him. While you had seen it many times throughout the years, you couldn't get enough, knowing this was the man who loved you, who adored you, who pledged himself to you. Your hand traced along his abdomen, and up his chest, with slow circles and movements.

He looked down to you and your hoodie for permission, to which you grew embarrassed and shy. He stopped, again, tracing his hand along your hip, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not wearing a bra, Ani," you muttered with embarrassment, and he looked at you inquisitively at the fact. "Honey, do you know—"

You interrupted him, mid laugh, "Yes, I know, I'm just nervous. My body, and uh—"

You were cut off, almost immediately, with a tut from him. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I promise," he told you, looking at you as if you'd break with a single touch or glance.

You nodded, beginning to lift your shirt up yourself, before he stopped you, kissing you and setting your wrists down. "Let me show you how much I love you," he told you, so sincerely, that you felt your body heat up and tense.

His fingers found the bottom of the garment, beginning to lift it over your head, as you lifted your arms up for him to slip it off of you.

He could have practically cum at the sight.

He was met with your soft skin, only for him to see, and his sweatpants tightened ever so slightly. Your breasts splayed out, tummy revealed, and it was all for him. Would forever only be for Anakin.

He kissed you again as you held him, trailing pecks down your cheek, and to your neck, where he suckled the skin and nibbled. You whimpered quietly, never having even thinking you could let out anything from kisses.

"You're so, so beautiful. Sculpted by the gods themselves, I swear. If I could worship a statue of you at a temple, I could," he whispered into your collarbone, moving his pecks downward. You became inherently flustered at his words, a garbled mess, until his breath was fanning in between your sternum. His palms found your ribs, inching upward to your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipple. The contact jolted you, overly sensitive and becoming needy for him to make love to you.

"So divine, I swear," he spoke over your nipple, before his mouth latched onto it, suckling like it would be the last thing he ever tasted. Yet, at the same time, it was so pure. Merciful whimpers left your garbled throat, hands tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

He switched over to the other breast, the other one being caressed with his saliva coating it, hardening at the contact. He let his teeth drag along the peak, almost teasingly, before kissing the bud and moving downwards.

He moved down to your tummy, kissing all over. His tongue licked a stripe from your sternum to your navel, then kissing the skin above your shorts. "No matter how insecure you are, your tummy is perfect," he mumbled into the skin, teeth gently grazing the skin as he sweet talked into your skin, lust filling his eyes as he made eye contact with you from above him.

"Anakin, I need you," you muttered, not able to hold the eye contact as he sat between your legs, where you needed him most. He smirked, nodding as he did so, "I know, baby, just wanna take my sweet time with you," he spoke, so close to your core, where your desire lingered for him. He could practically taste it as well, bending down lower, his teeth biting on the waistband of the fabric, slowly pulling it down. His other hand met the other hip, assisting in his teasingly slow antics. He shimmied the shorts off, looking back to where you laid underneath him. He adored you, to say the least, and the way you're looking at him as him twitching in his pants. Desire and need are painted all over your expression, as he finally looked down to your panties.

He noticed the damp spot on the gray cotton, his mind going crazy. He did this to you. God, he loved it.

He kissed the wet spot, earning a small noise that strangled it's way out your mouth. Those damn noises to him, would be the death of Anakin himself. He then looked up, "Is this okay?" He questioned, wanting to make sure you were alright more than anything.

"Yes, please, Ani," you begged, watching him then tauntingly pull the fabric down your hips. Before looking, he begins to kiss the inside of your thighs, tongue dragging along the plush of the skin. The freckles and moles and scars, everything, he was taking in as he tasted you. It was perfect to him. You are perfect. He wanted to make sure you knew that as well, his attention switching to the other leg, repeating the same tantalizing licks and nips and kisses, sucking gently as he got closer to your center, leaving light hickeys and eliciting noises from you.

He then made eye contact with where you needed him most, a small sigh of his breath leaving a tingling sensation for you. "All of this, for me? You're too good to me," he spoke, before taking his first lick, a stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. "Y'taste so heavenly, honey, please," he begged for nothing, knowing he already had you as putty in his hands. You fell limp as he pressed a damp kiss to your clit, using one hand to pull back your folds for him. You were glistening with desire, leaking onto your sheets. He was disappointed he couldn't take the chance to lick it up off of the sheets, your hole twitching and practically clenching at this point.

He began his attacks on you, slow and steady, trying not to overwhelm you. Moans began to fill the room, letting him know he was doing a good job, only using his tongue at this point. "S'good," you spoke out, and he hummed in response, smiling in his head. All he wants is to make you feel good. This is an apology, devotion, and need all in one.

The vibrations sent shivers up your spine, fingers clutching the sheets beside you. His other hand was keeping your legs apart, the incessant twitching making him rut into the end of the bed. This wasn't about him though, this was about you.

His tongue prodded your entrance, scooping up whatever was leaking out, and he swallowed it graciously. "You're doing so well, my love," he praised. You hummed in response, not being able to form coherent words, even though he was the one with his mouth occupied. The hand spreading your folds twisted, allowing for his thumb to start slow, gentle circles around your clit.

"Is this good? Do you feel good, darling?" He asked, looking up to you as you nodded feverishly, in a haze of love and lust all at once. Your brain was clouded with the pleasure of Anakin between your legs, lapping you up like you were his final meal on death row. His thumb circling your nub, and his tongue swirling around your walls, gummy and slick with his saliva and your desire. He loved every second of it, your squirming and your hips rolling on his mouth, suffocating him in the best way possible.

His thumb began to speed up, and your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer and gripping on for dear life. And he hasn't even inserted fingers yet.

The heat between your legs grew stronger, as minutes passed of torturous circles and slow licks and prods, before you begged for him more. "Fingers, something, Ani," you managed to make out some words, jello and oozing into his palms and mouth. He chuckled at your eagerness, now using his hand he was using to hold your legs apart to wrap your legs behind his back, heels digging into the muscular blades of his shoulders. A single digit slowly entered you, curling inside, arching your back off of the sheets. His tongue moved up to your clit, suctioning the bud, and gently nibbling as his finger began a new pace. It was steady, almost leisurely, as he inserted a second finger, scissoring at your entrance. You were so, so tight, and it was heavenly to him. "Ani, faster, please," you commanded, and he damn well listened like an obedient dog, picking up the pace and curling inside of you each time, his thick fingers searching for the spot that would make you see stars. One your own fingers could hardly reach.

As he sped up and became more passionate with it, your legs trembled from overwhelming excitement and anticipation. You felt the knot beginning to form, one you had only reached on your own, while always thinking of this. Your moans became more strangled and raspy, his mouth never leaving his assault on your clit, and his fingers squelching from your wetness between your legs. The smell, the taste, everything was undeniably delicious to him. This was his Y/N, the one he pined after for so long, the girl of his dreams.

Your pussy began to ache, an overwhelming sense of your release approaching. With whatever you could make out, you uttered in a strangled mess, "C-cum, Ani, 'M gonna."

He began to get more aggressive with his suckles, and his eyes looked up to your expression as your breasts shook with every breath you took, head lolled back from the craving you had- no, the need you had for him. He felt your walls clench around him as your release was coming, his eyes never leaving you. "Good girl, I wanna see that pretty face look at me while you cum," he quickly reattached his mouth to you, the words themselves making your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck. Your eyes never left his, though they rolled into the back of your head momentarily. He felt the flutter, and the clenching of your legs around his head as you finished, his mouth licking up the last of you as he finally pulled away. "You did so well, baby. We can stop here if you want," he assured you, licking his fingers clean as he leaned up to cup your face and kiss your neck.

"I want to feel you inside of me," your lips were flush and swollen from the kissing and biting you had done, and your checks were splotched with redness as he nodded. "Fuck, you're so perfect," he guaranteed your utmost comfortability and contentment. "If you're sure."

He began to pull down his boxers and sweats in a swift motion with one hand, the other propping him up so he could kiss your cheeks sweetly and with care. "You're doing amazing."

You grinned and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips eagerly. Sweat beaded your foreheads, but the mess created never stopped either of you from continuing. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, before dragging his lips down to the corner of your mouth. He pulled away momentarily, hands reaching down to stretch you with his fingers. You glanced down to below his navel, and holy shit, was he big.

"It'll fit?" You questioned, your naïveté getting the best of you in the moment.

He chuckled, grinning and looking down at you waiting for him. He took a mental picture, analyzing every possible detail of your bare skin, and the way you looked right now. He was infatuated with you before, but this sight under him, left precum leaking from his tip. His fantasies could have never compared to this sight of him between your legs. "Yes, it will. It'll hurt at first, okay? And tell me to slow down or stop at any point, promise?"

You nodded your head eagerly, "I promise," so grateful for the way he was praising and taking care of your needs over his.

He kissed you again, dragging his tip along your folds. The red and swollen cock in front of you had you nearly drooling, but you decided to save that for another point in time.

"Are you ready?" He asked tenderly, kissing along your neck, tapping your clit with the head of his cock. "Yes, please," you chanted over and over again, like a prayer on your lips.

He let out a quiet hum, slowly pressing his tip into your folds. It slowly slipped past your entrance, earning a hiss from between your teeth.

"Are you okay?" Anakin immediately asked, though not pulling out, so he could look you in the eye, his gaze wavering slightly.

"Mhm, just hurts," you felt tears prick the corner of your eyes, and Anakin knows you've never been someone with a high pain tolerance. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you," he comforted you, pressing a small kiss to your lips, waiting for you to nod to continue. It didn't matter that even your entrance was gripping him like a fucking vice, he wanted you to feel as safe and pleasured as possible.

You made eye contact with him, nodding slowly, as he pushed in a little more, your hands finding his biceps, caged around your head, nails digging into his skin and leaving welts. It hurts, but you expected it. And there was nobody else in all the universe you would rather give your virginity to, just Anakin himself.

"You're doing such a great job, taking me so well," he smiled, hoping his voice would bring you a sense of oasis in the middle of his cock piercing through your insides. "Think you can take a little more?"

You nodded, as one hand reached down to press on your thigh, as he felt your pussy clench him so tightly, knowing you were his. Made for him. "Relax, it'll help it hurt less baby, I promise," he told you, rubbing sweet circles on your leg.

He felt your body loosen up, and he was able to bottom out into you, and his tip kissed your walls, a whimper of pain and pleasure entering his mouth from the kiss he gave you. "Good girl," he whispered into your mouth, making sure he was to never break eye contact in this moment. It was so pure, so sinful, and such a precious moment. He was lingering inside of you, movements stilled, no matter how badly he wanted to pound into you until you were crying into the sheets. You bucked your hips up, enticing him to move, and he got the memo.

It wasn't full throttled thrusts, but slow and lazy pumps in and out of you, waiting for the pain to subside. He felt so amazing inside of you, with your warmth and wetness connecting you both. The closest he could ever get to you, and he never thought he would be here. He was savoring every clench, every thrust, and every moment like it would be his last. Because it was you, and he loved you so dearly, he wanted this to be perfect for you.

Your back arched, your pussy twitched around him, all the while he was still slowly going in and out. It was celestial, the way you moaned and let out slurred words of his name, eyes half lidded and already looking fucked out, a devious and wanton expression he'd commit to memory. "Ani," you made out, grabbing the hand on your leg and placing it on your core. He understood, starting to rub spirals under the red and swollen hood of your clit, picking up his pace. Then, the pain has completely subsided, turning into seraphic pleasure, his eyebrows creating a wrinkle as they furrowed. His own pants and grunts left his lips, chest heaving from the bliss he was subdued in. He was immersed in you completely, mentally and physically. You looked so angelic, even godly, as your bodies connected in the most unholy way possible.

He had waited too long for this.

Your warm and inviting, virgin pussy, saved all for him. And now you were underneath him, his cock filling every inch of you, and each time he bottomed out his tip would meet your cervix, but not hard enough to hurt you. He treasured you, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

"Faster, Ani, I'm okay," you rested your hand on his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes, as he tried so hard to contain himself so you could feel loved for every second of it. He got off on you feeling so cherished under him, and you had never felt more adoration than in the present.

He listened though, picking him his pace, hips snapping so scrumptiously against you. You could hardly moan anymore, and you broke the eye contact, head rolling back and hitting your pillows from the amount of satisfaction you gained. He took the opportunity to look down at where your bodies met, watching his length slide in and out of you, coated in the sticky sweetness of your serene need for him. His eyes glanced over your body, watching as your tits bounced with every jolt of his body, and he almost creamed at the very sight. He was going to wait though, until you came, to ever think of cumming.

"S'well, baby, you feel so good wrapped around me. You're so beautiful, God. I could do this for hours," he praised you, feeling your pussy clench around him at the simple, yet overwhelming words. The way the plush of your thighs jiggled with every little movement, and the way your tummy followed with. He was encompassed in serenity for every second of it.

"M'gonna cum," you mustered out, warning him of your second release, building quicker than the prior one. "Go ahead, my love, whenever you feel like it," he said between pants and grunts, thumb still circling around your clit as he felt you get all the more tighter.

He sped up his pace, shifting his body to the right, the angle directly hitting that spongey spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your hands began to dig into his shoulders, the knot tightening. He could tell, watching as your thighs clenched and you let out the most wanton cry of his name, cumming around his cock.

The feeling and satisfaction of you finishing left him close to his own release, pulling your head down to look at him. "'S it okay if- fuck- I cum?"

"Cum in me, Ani, fill me up," you assured him, still whimpering from overstimulation and groaning at the feeling of him fucking your cum back into you.

His breaths were shakier, turning into soft whimpers and groans as you felt his thrusts grow messy, and soon still, feeling a gush of warmth inside of you, filling you to the brim. He stayed there for a moment, sighing as his cock softened, not wanting to pull out and disconnect from you in the most intimate way possible. He knew he had to though, as he pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty and lost.

You let out a breath of air, leaning up to kiss him. He happily obliged, rubbing sweet patterns along your hips, tracing the dips and curves with his index finger, soothing you after your release.

He leaned up quickly, making you feel cold, empty, and lost. Was he already leaving?

But no, he came back with a warm washcloth, leaning between your legs again. He came face to face with your cum and his load leaking out of you, beginning to drag wet and sloppy kisses on your knees as he ever so gently wiped up what was leaking out of you, and the mess and sweat off of your thighs. The residue piled along the fabric, which he then wiped his soft cock with, running back to your bathroom to throw it in the hamper. He crawled back into bed with you as you turned over on your side, the room smelling of sex and love.

"I'm so proud of you, you did so well," he told you, wrapping an arm around you and bringing you close to him, so you could lay your head on his chest. His palm rubbed along the small of your back, tracing up your spine.

"Thank you, I don't think I could have asked for someone better to do it with," you smiled, an after sex glow making you all the more beautiful to him.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend now?" You asked, and a dumbfounded expression was plastered on Anakin's face, causing you to worry momentarily.

"I would assume so, but only if you'll have me," he spoke into your hair, bare and naked bodies intertwined under the cold sheets. "Of course I'll have you," you comforted him, hands tracing the curve of his biceps. "You're my forever, Anakin."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

#anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen x reader #modern!anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #best friend!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker angst #star wars #hayden christensen smut

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lanabitch2 · 3 days

Text

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss scenarios:How you guys met

Charlie:(Time Line: Pilot

So you were good friends with Alastor or he owned your soul so he just spawned you to help out with the hotel and Charlie was nothing but sweet to you which was why you guys became close friends

Vaggie:(After Charlie found her)

So you are Charlie's sibling and Charlie wanted your help to get Vaggie better to which you did help ,and you and Vaggie bonded during that time which lead to her being a protective friend

Alastor:(During the show,before the Pilot)

So before the pilot he knew because once he became a overlord and came to the overlord meetings he met you another overlord and he didn't talk to you at first so you talked to him first which you and him become with besties especially with Rosie!(wait I should make a group of Alastor, Rosie,and Overlord!Reader!)And now to the show so during the overlord meetings you see him after 7 years while you and Rosie were chatting and she basically pushed you to talk to him again to which you do and you guys became close friends again!

Angel Dust:(Pilot)

You were a sinner who wanted to be redeemed so you helped Charlie with her hotel and in scene where they were in the car,Angel Dust was flirting with you the whole time even if Vaggie was screaming(?) At him,he didn't care

Husk:(Before He lost his soul to Alastor,and the pilot)

You knew him once again because of overlord meetings!You are a overlord again,You and him became friends fast and you would sometimes go to his casino and play cards with just for fun and then Alastor showed up and then Husk lost his soul. During the pilot Alastor has you help to which you do and while at the bar you meet Husk again, his is grumpy towards you but he secretly is glad that he can see you again!

Nifty(THIS IS PLATONIC!):(Pilot)

It was when Alastor just got her out of the fireplace or oven(I've heard both)and she started cleaning the place and at one point she just looked at you and then giggled and then started cleaning again, You knew she was something different

Sir Pentious:(Show)

It was after"It starts with sorry" you 2 didn't really pay attention to each other at first but he then started to try and talk to you which he was super nervous and would say the wrong thing but you were nice to him(cause duh he is sir pentious)and became his friend

Cherri bomb:(Show)

When she just blew up the wall in the hotel and Charlie gave her money to the bar(?),so when you guys were there you started talking to her and she was kinda rude bur in teasing way and after a while she was acting like your best friend

Valentino:(anytime)

So you needed a job so you went to his studio and you didn't even half to say"Can I have a job here." He just goes"Do YoU nEeD a JoB?"*And you just nod so you gave your soul go him and stuff <3

Vox:Anytime

You are just a powerful overlord who works with the Vees and Vox grew a liking to you and was kinda weird but you didn't really care about it and deal with it but you guys are friends(you replaced Alastor?)

Velvette(MA QUEEN!):Anytime

So you were one of her models and she didn't really care for you at first until she saw how much talent you had and she was awestruck so she then started showing favoritism towards you

Adam:(Earth garden of eden)

So after he lost both of his wives to Lucifer,God made him a new wife(or husband but it might start just becoming a female if so then sorry!),you were loyal to him and loved him no matter what(MY HEART OF STONNNNNNNE!)

Lute:(Anytime,and so this reader is female it just makes since of what I'm about to for the reader)

So your are a exterminator and she used not care for you until Adam started talking about you to her and she then started to pay close attention to you,which you noticed after a while and asked her"What?"and she was pissed until she chilled out started talking to you and you guys were chill

Emily(My bestie loves her):Anytime

You were a Seraphim to(I REALLY HOPE THAT NOT ALL SERAPHIMS ARE REALATED!)And she always talked to you when she just wanted to but you guys never really were friends she talked to you when she didn't think Sera would understand so at one point you were like"Wanna be friends?"and she would squeal and be like"YES!YES!"

Saint Peter(I love him and "OH!~"):Anytime

You were a Seraphim and he would sometimes see you when he would see Sera and Emily but you guys never really talked so at one point when you were just alone,he started talking to you which made you guys close

(End of hazbin hotel but if you want me to add more people than you say who)

Helluva boss

Blitzø(Mwah):(Before the whole Blitz and stolas fucking thing for the book)

So you needed a job so you saw IMP and thought *Murder >:)* so you when to work there and he had you meet him in his office and he was like "who do you want dead?"until you telled him you wanted a job and hired

Millie(THICK-um sorry and her and Moxxie are not married atleast not in these preferences but you can request them together!):season 1 episode 5 Harvest Moon Festival

So she knew you from her childhood back in the warth ring and once she saw you again at The Harvest Moon Festival she was overjoyed and so were you and you guys started catching up you ended up just going back with her and started working at IMP

Moxxie(Possum!):Harvest Moon Festival

So you also knew Millie and she introduced you two to each other and he was kinda nervous but you were kind for him to trust you and like the last preference you went to IMP to work there

Lonna(Goth queen):Anytime when she was with Blitz

So you got a a job at IMP and you tried to talk to her but Moxxie is telling you to not so you didn't for a while until you just did and she at first wasn't listening to you until she found out you like some of the same stuff as her and she kinda became your friend

Stolas(Birdy :<):Loo Loo land

So you worked for IMP and Blitzo had you and M&M to come along to protect Stolas and Octavia at Loo Loo Land,After a while Stolas started taking a liking towards you and was like "Blitzy give that one and you still have the book"

Stella(Sorry):Idk

You were a servant/maid for the Goitia family and she was kinda nice to you but was still a bitch

Stirker(I mean!~):Teen times

You were Millies sibling and knew him some what around the ranch and his father so at one point when you were trying to get on a big ass horse and kept falling,he walked over and was kind(I think he was a weet heart in his childhood and teens but his dad messed it all up)and he said"Do ya need help?" He smiled and helped you up and you guys started talking after becoming friends

Asmdeuos&Fizzarolli(IM SORRY I PUT THEM TOGETHER I JUST-UGH!I LOVE THEM BOTH SO SO MUCH SO I WILL GLADLY DATE BOTH!):Anytime

So you were a stripper for them and they never really noticed you until you pulled a amazing stunt(?) So after they had a talk with you and started saying how good you are and that you are probably the best stripper which you became close to them

Verosika(Mommy):Anytime

You one of her BIGGEST fans in hell and on time at her concert when you were shouting "I love you!" She winked at you and after the concert she had you come back stage and she had you join her little group

Vortex(....Well!~):Anytime

So you were part of Verosika's little group,he never really payed attention to you but at one point you started flirting with him and he was pretty chill about it and was screaming on the inside and after that you guys became close

Mammon(Fat Christmas tree that I love!):Anytime

So you performed for him at one point which he really liked you and your style so he had you like work with him and now you are the SIN OF GREEDS pet.Maybe?

Beeulzubub(slay queen bee!):anytime

You were at one of her party's and she started talking to you and was like acting like your best friend and after she like gave you her number,you guys started hanging out

So I forgot Lucifer so!

Lucifer(eat me out please):when he visits the hotel

So when he visits he noticed you were like a parent to Charlie and he wasn't mad about it because she needed a parent figure(Alastor:I'm a roach-wait no nifty!)*and he stared talking to and was like "new Lilith?" In his head

My oc's

Helen:Anytime

So you came to her bar and she caught interest in you and would start talking to you and be kind flirty while also being a sweetheart and then you guys meet again at the hotel

Dawn:anytime

You were also a model for Velvette like her and she noticed how good you are and wanted you to teach her and so you did and then you guys met again in the hotel

THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO HAVE READ THIS!<3

THANK YOU FOR 57 LIKES( Is that what their called?)

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slasherstories123 · 1 day

Note

Hii this is the first time I make a request. Can you make slashers(your choices hehe) react to S/O making a plushie that look just like them? Thank you :)

Slashers reaction to their S/O making a plushie of them

Paring: Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Vincent Sinclair,Lester Sinclair, and Brahms Heelshire x reader

Tagslist: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @pink-apollo @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby @l0sercat

A/N: When you said dolls it made me think of crochet dolls, but if not then I’m sorry😭💗

Jason Voorhees

Very curious. He's curious about the process of you making the plushie once tibeas given to him.

Jason loves the plushie, even carrying it around like it’s his own child and will even sleep with it besides his teddy bear that was given by his mother.

He’ll hug you to no end as his way of saying thank you

If you were to make another plushie he’d want to watch you make it so he could make one of you, it was terribly made but it was his first time… and it’s the thought that counts

He’ll be forever grateful because it’s the fact that you wanted to make the plushie and haven’t had any sort of gift in years ever since his mother was killed, it’ll possibly even make him emotional just the thought of him receiving any gifts after being called a monster or freak.

Michael Myers

He’s giving you so many head tilts of confusion

All he can think about is why? Why are you making it, he knows you love him, but that far to make a plushie?

He’ll keep it of course but you won’t see him around with it, he probably has it put up on your dresser.

Will he stare? Yea. He’ll stare at you through the whole process of making it. Once it’s done he’ll definitely see something missing. Going in the kitchen to get the largest knife and give it to you.

You’d have to stifle a laugh and make a large knife that will fit the doll to fit his liking, handing it up to up for his own approval.

He’d take the doll and hold it by its head. Placing it on his shoulder.

He’d walk around the house with it on his shoulder, surprisingly, it doesn’t fall off.

Vincent Sinclair

Loves it.

Vincent keeps anything you give him, even if it’s a a half head flower you saw outside he’ll keep it even if it’s shriveled up into nothing

At first he’s curious since he never knows you could make things like he could. Once you show him how you do it, just know he’ll also make you one as well so you both can have plushies of each other

He’s rather good at it for the first time but often cuts his fingers so you’d have to stop him just to patch them up or to make sure he isn’t bleeding

He’ll often watch you make them since it’s satisfying in his opinion to watch. Just have music play in the background while you work he could stare for hours and not get bored at all.

Lester Sinclair

Lester literally laughs at the sight of it

It’s more of a surprise laugh since he didn’t expect you to make a doll that’s exactly like him, he loves it and will give you the tightest hug known to mankind

Even press kissed all over your face happily, mustache sloppy but they’re still kisses 🤷🏾‍♀️

He’ll even call the doll “Lester Jr” and will have it in his truck… or will carry it everywhere but will also have it in his truck since it reminds him of you

He’ll hug it to no end, even in his sleep, or he’ll have you hold onto it while he curls up besides you to sleep

Brahms Heelshire

It would be hard for you to even make it since he’ll sometimes take the tools away just so he can get your attention.

Once he settled down… hopefully. He’ll watch while having the porcelain doll of himself in his lap. Holding onto it until you finished with the doll you were currently making yourself.

Just like with the porcelain doll, he expects you to be careful even though it isn’t as fragile as the one he has

It’s a doll, and it was made by you. He wants it to be taken care of of since it resembles him.

As his way of a thank you, he’ll give you one perfectly made as well, and it has more details of your features that you don’t even pay attention to.

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batsycline69 · 2 days

Text

Night & Day

Summary: Jason's night doesn't go as planned. As a result, neither does yours.

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 4,365

Content/warnings: profanity, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood

Jason wakes in a sweat.

He’s had this dream before; his body throbs, slick and sticky with blood. Each hit of the crowbar jerks his body.

He pushes himself up from the bed, his feet meeting the cold wood floors beneath him. He huffs, his head falling in his hands as he slumps towards his knees.

There’s no blood. Hell, there aren’t even the scars to prove what he went through anymore. It’s just Jason trapped in his own mind. The laughter echoes in his ears long after he wakes up, but the pain eventually fades into the back of his mind, a lingering nagging as he tries to grip onto reality and find something to distract himself.

Lines of light fall across the floor from the streetlamps pouring in through the venetian blinds. He’s been meaning to get curtains. He feels too exposed, even if the blinds are always shut.

When he was first resurrected, there were only so many memories he had to comfort himself with. Anything from his life with Bruce was immediately off limits, so he usually sought out Talia. The comfort she’d managed to offer him after all of that just by showing a little kindness.

A few days ago, he met you. You’d been kind to him too.

He told you to just call a ride instead of taking the train. He knew what happened in this neighborhood at that time of night. But you didn’t listen.

Jason knew you weren’t going to get onto that train without a hitch. He chose following you over the stupid drug bust. He figured there’d be time to take care of them later. He’d been right, of course, but after that, he froze.

You hadn’t been intimidated by him at the shop. But you’d seen him—the real him—and flinched. Not that he can blame you. It was a hell of an introduction on his part, barrel of his gun up against some guy’s head. In a city like Gotham? God, he could have been any creep.

But he’s him. He’s the same he’d been at the shop, but you don’t know that. And you can’t.

That doesn’t stop him from thinking of you. As he wakes from his nightmare, you’re there, and he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because your kindness is so straightforward. It’s not shrouded by trauma and odd gestures meant to translate to kindness. You talked with him, laughed with him. You got him food that you insisted he eat.

You’re better off without him. There’s a natural path for the two of you to never see each other again. It’s more work to not lose contact with you. Even with every part of him saying no, Jason makes the effort.

How’s your tattoo healing?

It’s still dark out, but it’s nearing 6 am now. As he sends the email, he hopes you get the idea he’s some sort of early riser. Maybe you think he’s less of a mess than he is. He’d let you think that, if you wanted to.

Part of him also worries about you. Not in some wild way, but after your close call with the guys at the train station, he doesn’t want you to be scarred for life. That may be overdramatic, but the point remains. That’s normal shit for him, but that’s not something you signed up for. That’s just the bi-product of living in Gotham.

His body collapses back into bed in a heap, his breath finally evening out. He’ll try to fall back asleep for at least an hour before he realizes it’s probably hopeless and gets up.

Mornings like this, he cooks. It passes the time. Dealers aren’t making deals this early. The shop doesn’t open until ten, but he sure as shit doesn’t want to be sitting around dwelling in his thoughts for longer than necessary.

So when Jason finally rises out of bed, he goes to the kitchen. He pulls out eggs and bread. Bacon, tomatoes, and cheese. Good salt, the salt that costs extra. He doesn’t have a lot of good these days, so he takes it where he can.

The Gotham underworld is lucrative, no surprise there. Jason has access to things he never would have as a kid. The sort of stuff he was introduced to at Wayne Manor. Except now Jason has them on his own terms. He didn’t need Bruce for it.

Bacon is on the stove sizzling as Jason’s old coffee machine gurgles. He’ll drink most of the pot by the time the sun rises. By now, there’s enough for him to focus on that he can push the dream to the back of his mind. He doesn’t need to think about the past. That’s why he has his plans. He has a future to look forward to. And if he has to be alive again, he’s going to make something of it.

Just the light above the stove is on. Jason likes the dark. Old habits and all that.

He fries up an egg until the ends get crispy. Toast, egg, sharp cheddar, bacon, and hot sauce. He takes a mug of coffee and his sandwich over to the small table up against the window and watches as the city wakes up.

It’s the most normal his day is going to look. These moments where his brain isn’t completely fixed on the job. He’s not trying to parse through whatever lying scumbag is coming into the shop. There’s no blood. It’s quiet.

The quiet is nice until it isn’t. Until it’s too quiet, and there’s nothing besides the quiet.

When he woke up, buried six feet under, it had been quiet. Except for his breathing. The claustrophobic weight. The crushing weight of the dirt as it pressed against him, as he fought to the surface.

You reply while he’s out taking his smoke break.

The tattoo itches, but it looks good, you say. I’ll send a picture once it’s healed.

His second appointment of the day, the one he goes to after he sees your email, is the type he usually sees. Some asshole that wants a skull on his arm to prove he’s tough. Someone who definitely isn’t you. But it’s not his place to wish it was. He feels ridiculous being so attached to you like a lost little puppy.

He wants to think of an excuse to see you again, but his mind is blank. Can’t just lure you to a dark alley for a chat like the people he’s normally trying to get in touch with. Yet again, just trying to be a regular person, he falls short. He doesn’t know how to navigate this. He spent the years he was supposed to figure this shit out in a box beneath the earth. As much as Talia taught him when he came back, he didn’t get flirting lessons.

There’s so much he doesn’t know about you. Sure, he could dig around and fight out a thing or two. That’s what Bruce would do, but he’s not Bruce. He doesn’t want to do that with you. He wants to just be Jason in your eyes, so that means keeping Red Hood as far away from you as possible.

Are you taking care of it?

It’s not flirting. It’s not smooth, either, but it does keep the conversation going.

During his next appointment, he has to push you to the back of his mind. The guy ends up being a small-time dealer. A guy who works for a guy who works for a guy sort of dealer. His license was scanned when he came in for the tattoo, and that means Jason has his address. There’s a lot he can learn from a license, assuming it’s real. Lucky for Jason, the dealer wasn’t smart enough to use a fake. Now he’s got a new lead, more heads to bust.

After the shop closes, he goes home. As he’s researching, he gets another response.

Yeah, I’ve been going swimming every day and using dish soap to keep it clean just like you said.

He smirks. You’re a smart-ass. That’s part of what he likes about you.

As he eats the leftover fried rice he heated up to the light of his laptop, he thinks about your appointment. The way you’d laughed over your dinner. The mischievous look in your eye as you teased him. He wished he had paid closer attention to that look because when he thought of you now, he saw that look of fear. That look directed at him. Guilt sat heavy in his chest because of it. You couldn’t trust him when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you. It was a good instinct. As much as it hurt, he wasn’t going to blame you for it.

Tonight, he’s going to kill. Becoming a crime lord isn’t pretty work, but he’s not about to shy away from it. If he has to spill blood, that’s what he’ll do. But he isn’t willing to risk that colliding into his memories of you either.

You’re separate from all of this.

Jason doesn’t regret being there for you at the train station. How could he? But at the same time, now you know, and that’s a liability. He doesn’t think you’d go around asking everyone, but he also doesn’t know you, and that fact remains even when his mind runs away from him to focus on your skin. Sure, Jason’s got the training to be able to read someone, but he’s not one to get too comfortable about such things.

This whole thing is still new. It’s precarious. Jason’s been back in Gotham weeks. There’s still plenty to be done, and he doesn’t need to be distracted.

Jason’s night doesn’t go as planned.

The dealers he’d been meeting with had gotten sloppy. A crew that got way too comfortable talking about sales in public. Batman got wind of it, but Jason was one step ahead. He got out minutes before Bruce arrived, and he didn’t leave anyone left alive to talk to. It’s messier than he’d like, but he doesn’t leave evidence. Whatever trail Bruce has picked up through them will run cold.

Just when he thinks he gets away without a hitch, he runs into the boss of the men unlucky enough to cross his path. He gets a shot in, but not before the boss grazed his thigh with a bullet. It bleeds, but it doesn’t go deep. Still, he can’t ignore it. He takes shelter in a residential area. He can keep a lower profile here if Batman is in the neighborhood, so he finds a dark alley to lick his wounds. He steams over how much carelessness has set him back, when a door slamming breaks his concentration.

And there you are.

You don’t see him in the darkness. You’ve got a bag of garbage in your hand heading towards the dumpster just a few feet away from where his back is pressed against the wall. It’s only a matter of time you see the faint glow from his mask, and he’ll see that same startled look on your face. He doesn’t want you to look at him in fear again.

The bag of trash clamors into the dumpster as you toss it in. You turn over your shoulder and freeze at the sight of someone standing just out of sight. And there’s that look. That same startled, caught in headlights look that’s been haunting him since he left you at the train station. He can’t stand it. So he raises his free hand and gives a small wave.

“Just me,” he says.

Recognition crosses your eyes as you fully find him in the shadows. “Oh,” you say, the sound getting drowned out by the light rain falling. Unconsciously—at least, he hopes—you take a half step away from him.

Yeah, maybe Jason should have thought this through a little more. So careful when he’s making his big plans, but all of the sudden, with you, he’s got his foot in his mouth and his brain where it shouldn’t be. Last you ran into him, he had been hidden out of sight, appearing suddenly to come to your rescue. And maybe doing the same thing outside where you presumably live isn’t a good look.

He should have gone on a rooftop somewhere.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he says.

It’s not a lie, but it’s not like the full version of the truth would offer you any comfort. I don’t think you’d like to hear that he’s on the run from Batman for killing a few guys. But is you potentially thinking he’s stalking you any better?

Your body is still rigid, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of your coat. “What are you doing down there?”

He wonders if you’ve got your pepper spray on him. You’d know better than to use it against him from your first run-in, but maybe you’re holding it now as a comfort. He’s not going to humor himself by believing you trust him. Even if he knows you’re safe with him, you don’t.

“Seemed like a good spot for a rest,” he replies.

The shadows across your face make it hard for him to really see where you’re looking, but he sees your back stiffen.

“Is that blood?” you ask, and now he’s sure your eyes are on his leg, fixed to the spot he was grazed. The concern is evident in your voice. Your eyes grow wide, and Jason all but sees the internal spiral happening on your face.

“Don’t worry, it’s mine,” he replies.

You stand, open-mouthed for a moment, the features of your face twisting further into confusion and worry. “Don’t worry?” you ask in disbelief. Your voice pitches slightly.

“Relax, it’s just a bullet graze. I’m fine.”

A moment of silence passes. Jason waits for the bleeding to slow a little. But once time passes without any sort of response from you, he looks up to catch your eyes wide in disbelief. Which is probably fair. At best, he sounds like an asshole being so casual about something like that. Sure, it’s Gotham, but even that’s a little much. Your obviously freaked out, and here he is acting cavalier.

Jason nods once. “Sorry. The people I’m usually around don’t get bothered about that sort of thing.”

You nod once, your arms crossing over your chest. “I bet.”

God, this is such a mess.

Your eyes flicker up from his wounded leg to the glowing white space where his eyes are beneath his helmet. Jason wishes so desperately to know what’s going on in your head. Do you see him as some sort of monster? Is there any bit of Jason you see beneath the helmet, even if you can’t actually know it’s him? Or has he blown all of this?

“Are you...okay?” you ask.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about me.” He thinks it’s silly you would in the first place. People have never worried about Jason; he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. You shouldn’t be the first one to take on the hopeless task of worrying for him, especially not over some graze. Especially not some graze relative to all of the other things that’s happened to him.

If this is what happens when he a bullet grazes his leg, he can’t imagine what you’d think of everything else.

“So...what’s your deal?” you ask cautiously.

“My deal?” Jason replies, even though he knows exactly what you’re asking.

“Yeah. I mean...what kind of guy in a mask are you?”

There’s a rough, modulated laugh from behind the helmet. “Well, I scared off those guys the other night, didn’t I? What kind of guy does that make me?”

“You scared them off with a gun.”

“And? They didn’t hurt you either way, right?” Maybe there was no room for you to see anything in Red Hood, and maybe he was foolish to think otherwise. He wonders if that still leaves any hope for you and Jason.

“And you conveniently are in the same place as me at the same time. I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“So you think I’m stalking you, huh?” he asks with a light laugh.

“I don’t see how that’s funny,” you reply.

You don’t trust him. There’s no hesitancy to voice your skepticism. He has to admire you just a little bit, even if it is a stupid idea to be arguing with the guy you know is carrying a gun. Now he’s the one who’s going to start worrying about you, as if that wasn’t already the case.

“You live in a shitty neighborhood. You’re gonna see guys in masks around here.”

“It’s Gotham. Most of the neighborhoods are shitty. Are you always this evasive?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

There’s a pause as you look him over carefully. Even if you don’t trust him, Jason doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants you to believe that he’s not a threat to you. Not on purpose, at least. He showed up at the train station because the thought of those guys laying a single hand on you made his stomach roll.

He wants you to trust him now like you had trusted him with your skin.

“Listen, I was working in the area. Swear to god, it was a coincidence. I needed someplace quiet to patch up. I didn’t know you were here.”

You don’t seem totally pleased with the answer, but he can tell you could maybe eventually buy it. Again, you watch him carefully for a minute. Gotham is singing her usual song around you, sirens and rain hitting the rooftops. Somewhere a few blocks away, Jason swears he can make out a fight.

“Are you blinking under there?” you ask, sounding a little unnerved by the constant glowing where he can see what’s going on.

He laughs lightly. “Yeah, I’m blinking under here.”

“I tried to thank you the other day, but you were gone already,” you finally say. “So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jason replies, even though he had heard it. When you were focused on the train rolling in, he’d slipped back into the shadows, waiting until the sounds of the train had long died down just to be sure there wasn’t anything else that was going to interrupt your trip home.

There’s another beat before he speaks again. “So are you okay?”

You look at him, slightly surprised. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just glad you were there when you were.”

Jason nods. “Yeah, me too.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, your eye darting nervously back to his leg.

“I already told you, I’m fine.”

Your weight shifts. You’re hesitating, still not ready to accept his answer. “Do you...need anything?”

He wants to tell you not to offer help to guys like him. You’re being too nice, and not every guy is going to be like him. Maybe he’s just flattering himself, but he gets the idea this isn’t a universal openness. You’re testing the waters, weighing everything he says and does. He thinks about how you must be putting together one hell of a pros and cons list in your head right now.

Jason imagines what would happen if he said yes; maybe you would scurry up to your apartment. You would come back with three towels even if you thought he only needed one. You’d get him water or some food to keep his energy up. What would you bring out to share with the stranger who has a gun?

But Jason shakes his head. “I’m all set,” he replies. “Jacket’s got a lot of pockets.”

Thunder cracks overhead. You startle from the sound, gaze turning towards the sky as rain starts falling down harder around you both. With Jason’s helmet on, he’s not much bothered beyond the drops blurring his vision slightly, but you’re exposed.

“You should get inside,” Jason says, nudging his head back towards the door you came out of.

And, of course, you pause. He sees the way your eyes flicker nervously to his wound.

Jason shakes his head. “Don’t do it,” he says.

“Don’t do what?” you ask indigently.

“Invite me in to be polite and all that.”

You scoff. “Invite you in? Are you kidding me? You’ve given me next to no information about yourself. You’ve openly admitted you hang out with people who aren’t phased by getting shot--”

“’Hang out’ is an overstatement--”

“I am not inviting you up to my apartment. I’m sure you have dangerous friends you can stay with.”

With the helmet, you can’t see, but Jason smirks. You are warming up to him. The you from the shop is getting pulled out little by little. He’s glad to see you again.

When he doesn’t respond, you turn towards the door a little. “Well...good luck with your leg,” you say, fishing through your coat pockets. The movement picks up a little more, followed by a soft curse under your breath.

“Locked out?” Jason asks. He doesn’t bother to hide the pleased tone in his voice.

“I left my keys inside,” you grumble.

Jason rises to his feet, careful to stay off his wounded leg as much as possible. “Bummer,” he says. “Want me to pick the lock?”

You turn back over your shoulder, looking like you’re trying to suss out whether he’s joking or not. With the helmet on, he’s sure it’s hard to tell.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reminds you. “Just gonna get the door open for you, and then I’m out of here. Promise.”

A bright flash of lightning illuminates your face, and you nod. “Okay.”

You take a step back from the door, letting him at the lock, gnawing on your lips nervously. “What if someone catches you?”

“I’m not worried about it,” he replies.

“And if someone catches me with you and I get evicted? I’m a little worried about that.”

“I get I’m not exactly at the top of the list of trustworthy individuals, but I’m going to need a little more confidence from you.”

There’s a crash of thunder. The rain gets even just a little bit heavier as Jason fiddles with the lock until it opens. It only takes him a few seconds, but you don’t comment on it. He’s not sure if it’s because you’re not surprised he can do it that quickly or because you’re exhausted with everything you’ve learned about him in the past few minutes.

You look at the open door, then back at him. “Thank you,” you say. It’s a little reserved, but he sees the echoes of you sitting in his station at the shop. A hint that maybe his chances aren’t so doomed as he worried.

“You’re welcome. Stay out of trouble.”

One last time, your gaze drops down to his thigh before looking back up. “You too,” you reply, letting the door slam shut behind you.

He should take this as his sign to leave, but he lingers a minute. It’s long enough for him to just barely hear a window slide open overhead.

Above him, he sees your head peek out over the ledge of your fire escape. Your building has the old kind, the wooden ones that are without a doubt a safety hazard. When you see him looking up at you, you quickly disappear out of sight again. The shyness is a little endearing, he has to admit. Not that he’s been doing a great job fighting it to begin with.

He can’t tell what you’re doing, but he knows you’re still out there. The top level is about as tall as the tracks above him. You live close to the station. That makes him feel a little bit better about your trip home after your tattoo. At least the time you were exposed to more trouble was cut down because of that.

There’s a little movement up on the fire escape. You hang something off the edge, but he can’t quite make out what. He sees the top of your head as you climb back through your window, and then the faint glow coming from your window goes dark.

Jason waits one second longer, trying to decide whether he’s meant to see what you’ve left him or not. He decides he is, and makes the trek up the rickety ladder. Some steps give a little from rot. Even if his leg isn’t wounded too badly, he does feel it each of the steps up. He wonders if you left everything up on the fourth floor where you live to spite him for being so nonchalant about getting hit.

When he finally makes it up to where you’ve left him a surprise, he sees your curtains are drawn shut. There’s no sliver of light peeking through. He wonders if you turned the lights off so he couldn’t see you trying to stay hidden while getting a look at him.

Hung over the railing is an umbrella. One he knows you didn’t have with you when you were out with him. You put it out here for him, even with his helmet on. Maybe as a thank you for helping you inside. Maybe as a way of toeing the line of you saying you won’t invite him in.

He could be anyone, but you gave away where you lived. He’d done enough for you to trust he wasn’t going to take advantage of this knowledge. But as the rain starts to get a little harder, he leans up against the brick of your building and opens up the umbrella. He can keep his leg dry until the rain lets up, at least.

Sitting out of the rain in the safety of your rickety fire escape, Jason makes the decision he’s going to ask you out for a drink tomorrow morning. Not him, Red Hood, but the tattoo artist. He knows for certain he’s not going to be able to keep you off his mind now.

He hopes tonight, he dreams of you.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider giving this a reblog 💛

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason #x reader

79 notes · View notes

dolldefiler · 1 day

Text

[Sup, nerds, it's bird boy again. I am once again opening up harem applications via pigeon messanger. Also someone reminded me I'd not written much cuck stuff recently (or anything else tbf) so...]

C/W: Cuckquean, cheating, fucking your little sister

It’d take months for you to introduce me to your family. Not because of your overly-curious parents. Not because of your loser brother. But because of your little sister. As soon as she’d walk into the room, it’d all click into place. The reason why you’d never show me photos of her. The reason why you’d hold off on introducing us for so long.

A tighter ass, a sluttier waist, better tits, and a prettier face. She’d look exactly like the pornstars you’d jerk me off to every night, and you’d know it. I’d introduce myself warmly, my eyes and hands lingering a little too long, a little too much. She’d notice, of course. What man would so openly disrespect their own girlfriend without hearing a word of anger? As soon as you’d see her lift an eyebrow, intrigued, you’d realise you’d already lost.

I’d spend the next few hours, ignoring you, focusing on her, our laughs becoming more and more frequent, our voices becoming more and more hushed. What would we be exchanging? Insults and secrets about you? Flirty banter? Or maybe we’d just talk about how badly we needed to fuck each other, not giving a shit about you.

You’d see my hands move further down her body, from shoulder bumps to briefly brushing her back, long sweeps across her thighs… and then, when we’re both stood up, you’ll watch your own boyfriend grope and fondle your little sister’s perfect fucking ass. You’d watch my fingers sink into soft flesh, my hard cock bulging against my pants, and my words becoming louder and more depraved. She’d either be too turned on to notice your tears or she simply wouldn’t care. Could you imagine that? Your own baby sister who you loved and fought for? Betraying you for your boyfriend’s cock? Perhaps she’d already known what a pathetic cuck you are.

We’d walk to your room, all pretences dropped while you play and fiddle with your neglected, dripping cunt, following behind. You’d be met with a locked door and the sounds of our moans. You’d hear us fucking on your bed. My animalistic groans while I pump my heavy cock inside her little cunt, stretching her out, abusing her with passion I could never show for you. My own perfect pornstar in the flesh that I’d breed, regardless of how much you begged me not to. Something would snap inside your sister. Your sisterhood would break with it. And then she’d ask me one question.

“Who’s better?” I’d howl her name, railing her perfect fuckbox harder, yelling it again and again, knowing you’d be outside furiously fingering yourself, unable to even stop us. Perhaps you’d cum. Maybe you wouldn’t. Either way, you’d have to listen to the sounds of our loud, passionate fucking for hours until the rest of your family came back home.

#cuckquean #cuckcake #cheating kink #cheating bf #cheating boyfriend #fauxcest #rough kink #degradation k1nk #degrading k1nk #humiliation kink

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samarecharm · 2 days

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People who really like shuake also seem to write themselves into a corner wrt Akechi and his relationship to Akiras team. Contrary to popular belief, the team, including Haru, does not hate Akechi. At worst, they tolerate him and deal with his attitude. Hes a good teammate and respectable fighter and the team recognizes that at the end of the day, he was a teenager who was manipulated and abused by a man who saw him as disposable. Just about every thief understands this intimately. They have the same mindset wrt adults who take advantage of the people beneath them. Under different circumstances they wouldve been friends. And if u approach it from that angle, it becomes less about Akechi being the sole person who ‘gets’ Akira, and more about the thieves being the only people in the world who ‘get’ Akechi.

When you expand your thoughts to include the thieves as members of his Team and not roadblocks that get in the way of your ideal shipping dynamic, you allow urself to give Akechi and Akira more depth and nuance to their own relationship.

Akira and Akechi are wildcards; both of them struggle with the face they choose to display to the world. Its the first time Akira interacts with someone who is, at a literal, technical level, his ‘equal’. But Akechi is one of many firsts for Akira yeah? Every thief has their bond with Akira thats completely unique and personal. Akechi will never be the person who witnesses Akiras Awakening, hes never the person who watches Akira have his restless nights alone in the attic, and hes never the person who realizes in real time that the teenager hes housing is just Some Kid, not the delinquent hes been warned about. Hes not Ann or Yusuke, or any of the thieves; he doesnt have the time or experience that they have with Akira, and I think its interesting to explore that part of their relationship, shippy or not.

Akechi is someone who is incredibly lonely and self depreciating despite his cockiness and attitude. He has no positive bonds to speak of save for his connection with Sae. To have him see a team that works together and cares for each other, how do you think he would feel? Out of place? Inferior in some way? Angry about how hes been alone for so long in this single minded quest for revenge? Wouldnt that be a point of struggle between the two of them? I think what makes shuake good for me is knowing that Akechi needs alot of time to heal, and the thieves would want to help with that process. They do it bc they care, bc Akira cares, and bc they trust Akiras opinion (and he trusts theirs in return); if Akira feels like Akechi is someone who can be trusted Now after everything thats happened, then the thieves would do their best to help. And how would Akechi feel about that? Angry about the show of pity? That even now, he has no real say in what happens to him? Or begrudgingly grateful that they are cordial with him? Because they do care, he KNOWS they care, they care TOO MUCH actually; but the one thing he values over brawn and wits is honesty- fighting for what you believe in without having to use soft words to justify it.

#chattin #also like. as an aside #my hcs regarding these two is like. they could not date. theyd kill each other lmao #and like TOTALLY by all means i am obsessed w unhealthy dynamics for shipping #let ur boys be toxic. let them be messy and loud and violent. its like crack to me #but just like fandom as a whole; fanon interpretations are prevalent and LOUD #and so trying to interact with it is like pulling teeth #personally. i think too many of them think of Akechi as like. the Rude one of the bunch #when i like to think of Akira as rude and full of himself when its deserved #and man. being able to outwit Akechi makes it Fully deserved #and i like to think Akira would remind him of this when he tries to intimidate or degrade his team #like. i have a short wip i never finished (basic sketches)#of Akira pulling him aside and grilling him #‘youre here because I Want you here. youre here bc i Allow you to be here’#‘if youre going to stoop low and play petty i can do the same. if theres anyone on my team whos a fucking idiot; its you.’#‘dont make me reconsider having you on the team.’#and akechis like okay great does ur dick feel big trying to pull rank on me?#but really hes fuming. hes MAD. like feral dog mad. bc akira is RIGHT. like he is most times as akechi starts to see.#he has enough of a mind to recognize that hes lashing out bc of his own shortcomings; even if he refuses to admit it out loud #its beyond infuriating. its degrading. its a little 😶.#never had to deal w anyone that rivaled his own brawn and wits. and now theres a TEAM of them #just humbling him time and time again. it sucks. he stays bc he cant help himself 😭#he needs to see more…#also #shuake #for blacklisting

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misskattylashes · 2 days

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Okay, I’m going to do it. I have been holding back and just telling my closest fandom friends my crazy theory, but what the hell. Most of you think I’m batshit anyway.

Here we go.....

What if we have been on the receiving end of a long played out psyop and Louise has been a way to make the public want Milex?

Okay, hear me out...

It’s 2017/8 Alex has abandoned Miles after EYCTE. He has gone to France to write and record TBHC, having realised their little TLSP bubble could never last (see Star Treatment). Without Alex, Miles is a little lost and lonely in LA. His reputation is also at rock bottom after the journalist incident. Miles decides he wants to move back to England, and Alex decides he wants to move back to, as we know they can never be more than a few minutes away from each other

Taylor either wouldn’t or couldn’t leave LA, so she and Alex break up. But they need a new girlfriend to keep up the straight image (especially with the new badly-received album and a world tour about to begin). On the original version of OPP as seen on the AM in Mexico video, over the turtle segment Alex sings ‘One More Year I’ll Call It Quits’ maybe the plan was to give it all up,but he had signed a contract to do another album and tour after TBHC, and with Miles’ reputation so bad, if they were together then they would both be cancelled.

So a European girlfriend is found and this is where the subterfuge begins. We start with old Instagram posts with tags like #alexturnerwillyoumarryme, then we get professionally shot videos of her backstage at AM’s concert (all the time Alex is ‘still with’ Taylor) so as soon as they launch, the first image of Louise the public get is a negative one, as a fangirl who has set out to get Alex, not caring if he cheats in his current girlfriend.

Before I list the reasons why I think she is fake, can I say this idea he has stayed with her as punishment for cheating on Taylor is absolutely ridiculous. Men who are serial cheats aren’t known for wearing hairshirts. Especially when you’re a handsome, wealthy rock star who could easily get another girlfriend.

So, the idea is, Louise is the most unpleasant person who makes Alex miserable, and if most people are honest, they want Alex to be happy..

So, let’s look at the evidence..(where there is a * it means there is a Miles counterside)

Louise doesn’t work. She claims to be a feminist, but her job seems to be being Alex’s girlfriend.

She openly copies selfies posed by previous girlfriends, making her look like she has no personality of her own

She boasts in her IG posts ie the ‘we just fucked’ pic and the panties on the piano.

She claims to be a musician but we rarely see her writing or recording anythjng.*

She writes embarrassing things about itAlex on social media (beautiful dick).*

Openly takes a neutral stance on Palestine.

Claims to wear vintage clothes but they rarely are*

When Alex was ill after the third London show, it is publicised that he leaves the Emirates with his parents, no sign of Louise. She’s too busy taking pics in the hotel with Matt and Amanda

Meanwhile Miles has worked hard on his public image. He has shown he is a hard worker. He rarely mentions Alex on social media and when asked about him in interviews, whilst admitting they are good friends, is insistent they are not working together. Which is good because he has always been accused of riding on Alex’s fame.

He frequently gives updates when he his writing and recording, treating us to little snippets, something Louise never does.

Is it a coincidence that holiday gate is the same as the week One Man Band’s release. Alex looking miserable with Louise Vs Miles being charming and hard working.

Not long after Louise starts going on about her fake vintage, Miles posts a whole real of him going proper vintage shopping so he looks authentic.

Even in Dublin there is no duet with Alex. Miles not using Alex’s,fame,but also those who monitor social media can see how hungry they are for Milex interaction.

The river Mersey comment – another way of guaging public opinion. Finally the legion of doom 😍😍 comment on the NY recent. The fandom went crazy at Milex acknowledgement.

Alex....

His face..Alex is a pro. He has had twenty years of faking smiles after arguments with the other Monkeys, girlfriends, even Miles. He could fake a smile with Louise if we wanted to when they call their friends at Backgrid to take pap pictures. But instead he chooses to look like someone either on the verge of tears or else being held hostage. And in the latest set of pics, Louise looks the same.

The Taylor tattoo....it looks like he thinks so little of her he has kept that tattoo.

‘I don’t wanna be hers, I wanna be yours’ quite often at gigs where Louise is in attendance.

Not one song on the car written about her.

And now of course with the tour over, a lot of people return to watching TLSP videos. Happy, muscly, healthy looking Alex having fun with Miles as opposed to skinny, miserable Alex trapped with Louise.

Apart from Louise’s most ardent fans, most people want to see him away from her and would be overjoyed at a TLSP reunion, and for us Milexers, a declaration of their love.

So, has this been a long game? A way of making the people think they want Milex? I told you it was crazy, but just remember the world of public relations is completely underhand and insane.

#craziest thing you will read in a long time #alex turner #miles kane #milex #tlsp #milex theory

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cosmicjoke · 2 days

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Could It Be That We Finished Our Mission Way Back Then?

I think people often grossly misunderstand and often twist Levi's sense of directinlessness after Erwin died to fit some sort of interpretation of his character as being solely motivated by or only caring about Erwin, whether that's to badmouth his character as being Erwin's "sidekick" or to push this agenda of some sort of romance between them.

But as usual, with these sorts of interpretations, people cherry pick and ignore context.

The above panels are vital to understanding Levi's sense of directionlessness after Erwin's death.

He says

"Could it be that we finished our mission way back then? When we got those brats to the sea? Did the part we had to play end there?"

Levi feeling lost and without direction after they retook Wall Maria has to do with the fact that the nature of the problem they were facing completely changed. It went from freeing the people of the Walls from the threat of the Titans to suddenly facing the threat of entire nations and other countries and people.

Levi was recruited into the Survey Corps to begin with because of his exceptional skills on the ODM gear, and thus, his exceptional ability to kill Titans.

But after they retook Wall Maria, the Titan threat was pretty much eliminated. Levi's skills and the specific abilities he brought toward the end goal of attaining humanity's victory over the Titan's were no longer required. The thing he brought and was able to give humanity, his incredible physical prowess in killing Titans, was rendered basically obsolete.

His sense of directionlessness and uncertainty has to do with the fact that he no longer feels he has a role to play in saving humanity, because the problem facing them has completely shifted. He muses above about whether "their mission" was to get "those brats", meaning the younger generation, to the sea, and wonders if "the role they had to play" ended there. He's talking about attaining freedom for these kids from the Titan threat and, that being the mission of the Survey Corps, feeling like, in that moment, their own role, the veteran scouts role, was complete. Levi talks during the Uprising arc about "choosing the hell of people killing each other over the hell of being eaten", and again, he's talking about eliminating the threat of the Titans so that people can actually have a choice in how they live, even if how they choose to live is its own kind of hell.

Levi never believed in a utopian world. He just wanted people to be able to live and choose for themselves how to live. And the way he was able to help them do that was by killing Titans and ending the threat of the Titans against them. Without Titans serving as a threat, he doesn’t know how his abilities can be used anymore to help people.

Levi's sense of directionlessness after Erwin dies has got nothing to do with Levi fighting for Erwin, or this idea that, without Erwin, he doesn't know what to fight for.

He still knows what to fight for, he's still fighting for humanity and for his comrades, but he doesn't any longer know what he's supposed to do in that fight, because, again, the nature of that fight has changed, and he feels like maybe all he could do to help the younger generation attain freedom has already been done.

And particularly in relation to Erwin, it was Erwin who first showed Levi how he could best utilize his abilities to help people. It was Erwin who directed Levi in how to use his strength to free humanity, and Levi relied on that direction from Erwin toward that end. Without Erwin there to direct him, again, Levi became unsure of how his abilities could or should be used to fight for others.

So, again, his loss of direction wasn't because he lost the thing he was fighting for. He was never fighting for Erwin. He was fighting for humanity, for his comrades, for "those brats". His loss of direction was because he no longer knew what he could do to continue to help people, when the way he'd helped people was by using his great strength to eliminate a threat that, at that point, no longer really existed. Remember what Levi says to the dying soldier at the beginning of the story? "I swear to you, I'll kill every last Titan". And he promises that soldier that he'll use his sacrifice to give him strength toward that end. He makes the promise to that soldier to kill all the Titans, because that's what that soldier sacrificed his life for. It's the same promise Levi makes in his quest to kill Zeke. He makes the promise to accomplish it because it's what all those soldiers in Shinganshina died for. It's something Levi can accomplish for his comrades. It's something he can achieve to help them. Like I'm always talking about, it's not for the dream itself that Levi fights, but for people, for his comrades, and for humanity as a whole.

Being able to kill Titan's gave Levi a clear directive in that drive to help people. Being able to kill Zeke also gave Levi a clear directive in how to help his comrades.

All Levi ever cared about was helping as many people as he could. It wasn't that Levi was fighting for Erwin, and without Erwin, Levi didn't have anything left to fight for. It was about fighting for people. About helping people. He knew how to do that when the only threat they seemed to be facing was the threat of the Titans.

When the nature of that threat changed, Levi no longer knew how to help.

That doesn't mean he didn't care about helping people, or humanity. Quite the contrary. His general uncertainty and doubt in the aftermath of the RtS arc, and, subsequently, his strong desire to kill Zeke, is reflective of how much he still wanted to help others, is reflective of him searching for a way, for a clear path, toward that end. Killing Zeke was a concrete goal he could cling to in that regard. A concrete way for him to apply his abilities toward helping his comrades, particularly, the comrades that had given their lives for the goal of Zeke's death, when everything else for him was left ambiguous and unknown. When he no longer knew how he could help, even as the deep, driving desire to remained.

#Levi Ackerman #attack on titan #shingkei no kyojin #analysis #meta #commentary

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lunnats · 1 day

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I present to you, a listener character!!

YouTube Audio Series: Gator Boys

Listener: Bug (in nearly all varieties except literally)

Name: Beatrice "Trish" Atknis

Never knew a biological family, grew up in an orphanage in Aakahn, where the environment was less than ideal for a small child. The kids in their care would quickly learn to fend for themselves, stealing food, coin purses, medical supplies, whatever they might need whenever they might get the chance to get it.

Beatrice learned quickly to play the tough girl act, to play at being confident and do everything on her own.

When she managed to get out of the orphanage, she tried to get a better life for herself with an honest job but it's not as easy as it seemed to be for everyone else. After a few years of bouncing from job to job, she decided to try to be a hunter, the work' i's dangerous but she could handle herself and not only was it well paid but hunting down monsters sounded like an honorable enough job. What could possibly go wrong?

She could get herself lost and then step right into a bear trap! That's what could go wrong! Because Divines forbid anything actually works her way even once! Her very long and varied list of curses did not seem like enough as images of dying alone in the middle of nowhere where bleeding out or starving were the better options when compared to being brutally murdered by some swamp moster made the rounds in her head... Maybe her next life would be better, because there was no way it could actually be worse! At least it wasn't like she was leaving anyone behind to remember her, let alone miss her...

As it happens, her whole life was about to take a turn she had never even dreamt possible.

Turns out, the “monsters” of the swamp weren’t the big green and clawed alligator half bloods, but the humans who hunted them. Kinder than any human she had ever met, these gators take her in and show her something she had only ever dreamt of – a true home. They look after her when she's injured and when she's sick, never doing anything to make her feel like a burden. They care for each other and even for her, a human who they know basically nothing about "Do humans not help each other? The way I see it, it's only natural to help a person when they need it." an action that seemed so natural to them yet feels absolutely foreign to her even though she knew it shouldn't. For the first time ever she felt... Safe.

Confessing to being a hunter was the scariest thing she’d ever even considered doing, but Bodie admits to have known all along and so revealing himself SOMEHOW even kinder than she already thought him to be. But what about Marco? Or, Divines forbid, Timmy…?

As she's gathering her courage and picking just the right words and where to even START that conversation, the chance gets taken away from her... With the catfish out of the bag, she just hopes to be able to help and maybe, just maybe, Divines willing, they'd understand too.

***

OK! I've done it! @astralbulldragon13 I'm tagging you OBVIOUSLY for dragging me into making this and everyone else you said I should tag... So yeah...

@rozeliyawashereyall @asmrbrainrot @willowve01 @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @rustycopper4use @piffany666 @lunaritychuwolf @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia @redcated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry

#bug army #the bug army #the gator boys #obsidian lantern #listener character #YouTube audio stories

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loustat-0 · 1 day

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Your answer about why Louis and Armand stay together brought something that always made me wonder about the show. Louis is jealous in the show so how come he would not be of Armand and Daniel in the 70s? Is it a way to show that Armand is not the love of his life (unlike Lestat)? Did he have his memories changed too? Has the writing just changed from season 1 to 2? What do you think?

This one will be a long one too . So please bear with me 🙏🏻

1. I hope no one attacks me for this but I didn't buy the " love of my life " of Louis at all . And as we can see even after Lestat is supposedly dead Louis can't get over him no matter how much he tries . On the show in Paris it seems like Armand is Louis's way of distraction from Lestat even though it doesn't work all the time . Not that Louis isn't attracted to Armand no , he's gay on the show and he has quite specific taste in men but Armand is also different feeling from Lestat so he's actually looking to any vampires who aren't like Lestat at all because he's trying so hard to forget him so Armand is that person at least that's what Louis thinks . And he thinks he has a common feeling with Armand about getting hurt by Lestat .

2. And in my opinion Louis isn't the love Armand's either he's his way of having new feelings and trying a new kind of love after a century but a century after Lestat . So Armand also want to forget Lestat and he also resents him and he could be after Louis to get revenge from Lestat . For all we know Lestat could have possibly arrived in Paris even before Louis and Claudia . So Armand knows about them . Even if they arrived in Paris earlier than Lestat did Armand still knew about them and I'm sure he suspected them being Lestat's fledglings . It's still love for Louis and Armand they were together a long time but what if they BOTH tried so hard to forget their relationship with Lestat that they quite became performative love to each other ? Both of them showing a part of themselves that they hated in Lestat?

3. I don't know much about Armand and Daniel possible history on the show yet But according to the the devil's minion chapter in the 3rd book Daniel is the love of Armand's life , someone who accepted his as he was adored him for his beauty and evil , although they had a rough start but they remained a couple for years . A relationship Armand cherished more than anyone else and possibly more than even Lestat because at the point of the book Lestat was in danger in the concert but Armand found Daniel and stayed with him and protected him and then turned him . Unfortunately in the books it doesn't last too long though they separated until the prince Lestat book where they became a couple again but Marius was there too .

4. I don't think Louie would be jealous over Armand's relationships because it seems like in the 70s they're in an open relationship even before that Armand and Louis brought out other men to their relationship and Louis had possibly sex with those men and Armand probably did too and then Armand killed them or probably erased their memories of being with them and left them on their own . EXCEPT FOR YOUNG DANIEL . He probably did something to his memories but it seems like both Armand and Louis kept a close watch on Daniel too . But I think Armand is mostly pretending that Daniel was like another men they had fun with and played with him like a pet and left him to be with Louie . Armand might be jealous and possessive of Daniel though , remember when Louis offered to turn Daniel in Ep 4 in season 1 ?

5 . So I don't think Louis cares about monogamous relationships anymore maybe because the show is going to go into poly direction . OR maybe Louis only have that feeling for Lestat . That fire , that burn , that jealousy . Maybe he's not jealous over Armand's and Lestat and Nickolas relationship because he doesn't know how deep they actually were . He thinks they were both a passing thing for Lestat and maybe he's deeply hurt by that what if he was that too ? 😢

6. I'm not sure who do you mean by having his memories changed too . But if you're talking about Louis and Daniel yes their memories are probably changed or I better say tampered with .

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #loustat #amc interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #iwtv spoilers #lestat x louis #louis x armand #loumand #armand x daniel #armandaniel #lestat x armand #lesmand #armandstat #iwtv theories #iwtv theory #iwtv speculation

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would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend · 3 days

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Hey! Love the blog and all the research and writing you do to make it!

I don't think my best boy, Donphan would make a good pet due to size, but what about his Baby Blue self, Phanpy?

[Thank you, I really appreciate it!]

Phanpies, unfortunately and perhaps surprisingly, would not make great pets for most owners. When it comes down to it, these pokémon are difficult to care for and exceptionally dangerous, no matter how good natured they seem.

On a more positive starting note, phanpies are a good size for a house pet at only a foot and eight inches tall. They’re rather heavy, which could make transporting them a headache for some owners, but it’s nowhere near as big a problem as it might be for some pokémon. That being said, this species’ housing needs could potentially cause some serious issues, despite their small size. Wild phanpies are avid diggers, which shouldn’t be surprising to anyone familiar with Ground-Type pokémon. This species tends to make their homes on riverbanks, where they dig themselves deep, vertical holes, about which they are rather possessive (Ruby). They spend a lot of time in the water as well (Crystal, Sapphire). This means that, in order to provide a phanpy with a simulation of their wild habitat, you would need to give them access to both a body of water to play in and an area where they can safely build a nest. This will, of course, be beyond the means of some owners. It really depends on the context of where and how you live. On the bright side, phanpies have some pretty impressive natural cooling methods, so they have no issue living in warmer climates: they have been observed using their large ears as fans to cool themselves off when needed (Emerald).

Now, phanpies are certainly playful and friendly, which is great for pets. The way that their playfulness and friendliness manifests, however, could be problematic for you. Like real-world elephants, phanpies enjoy giving themselves showers with water stored in their trunks (Crystal). In fact, they’re pretty insistent on it, hating being dirty or muddy after playtime (Scarlet). This could, obviously, cause you some problems if you don’t want to get water and mud all over your home. Any potential phanpy adopters had best be ready to get sprayed with water too, since wild phanpies are known to give each other showers out of the kindness of their hearts (and, perhaps, occasionally, with mischievous intent) (Sapphire). Unfortunately, their showering habits are the least of your worries! Phanpies are very affectionate and playful pokémon, and they swinging their trunk around wildly and bumping it into those they love to show it (Gold, Silver). This becomes a real problem when you consider this species’ startling strength! The pokédex makes the bold report that a loving bump from a phanpy is enough to “send you flying” or even shatter your bones (Silver, Violet)! Despite their small size, these pokémon can easily pick up and carry a full-grown human on their back, which may be occasionally fun but equally inconvenient at other times (Diamond/Pearl/Platinum). The risk of accidental injury with a phanpy is dangerously high, which makes them an ill-fit for a lot of potential owners.

Additionally, phanpies surprising strength makes moves like Rollout, Bulldoze, and Slam easily lethal, making playtime (or calming down an tantruming individual) incredibly risky. While they are good-natured, I can’t in good conscience recommend a phanpy as a pet to anyone, given the incredible threat to their own safety that they would be taking on. This is a species best observed from a healthy distance, unless you have specialized training for caring for them.

#pokémon #pokemon #phanpy #pkmn irl #pr-c

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ratanslily · 2 days

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-> meet my mcs: Kfs version! Devi & Deviya (just to differentiate)

Devi "Devisha" Sharma x Ram Doobay

• Pride, Legacy.

• Pride!Devi because they're both idiots in love who will be stubborn in confessing feelings, but feel deeply for each other. literally everyone knows they're in love but they themselves won't accept it. (yeah, even if they're in a secret relationship).

•Devi's full name is Devisha (Yeah, my hc) but she likes to keep it short and sweet "Devi".

• Diplomatic, Doesn't prefer showing emotions, masking it behind a non chalant face. but Ram knows how she feels, when he looks into her eyes. her eyes are very expressive, even if the rest of her face isn't. those close to her will always judge her mood by her eyes.

• Very very jealous of other women approaching Ram. but as I said, she doesn't let it show, and just clenches her fist behind her back, glaring daggers at the woman.

• Her family and legacy is very important to her, to the point of sacrificing her own happiness to honour her ancestors.

• Ram and her used to tease and call each other "haughty" when they met as teens.

• Devi has always been fascinated by his eyepatch, but is too proud to let him know it looks good on him

~tbc if I'm not lazy~

Deviya Sharma x Doran Basu

okay can we please assume he's separated from his wife for simplicity??

•Passion, Legacy

•Passion!Devi because Doran should have a passionate woman in his life to show him what love and romance really is. and passion can manifest itself in many ways, like in swinging of a sword and riding a horse recklessly in the night, the way Doran likes his Deviya.

• Deviya loves the full name her parents gave it to her, and insists on using it as a remembrance of her family.

• Oh my god, she literally cannot hold her tongue or hide her emotions. if she doesn't like something, she will blurt it out, not caring for the consequences. some forgive her for having a pure and frank heart, but some don't..

• Doran likes it, he appreciates her boldness in letting her opinion being known.

• Doran trains her with his own collection of beautiful swords whenever Deviya is free. He loves to see how she can swing it so gracefully even if she's so short in comparison to him!

• Height jokes are very common between the two.

•Deviya has never met Doran before the event when she bumped into him, her hand holding his sword. but she has heard tales abou the Executioner from her brother.

#romance club #kali: flame of samsara #rc ram #rc doran #ram doobay #doran basu

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bbbuckaroo · 3 days

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i think the entire 911 fandom situation is very interesting to witness because we've been saying this for years: buck and eddie girlies would have been at each other's throats all this time if their common ship hadn't united them. i think the current takes show incredibly well that the same people who hate bucktommy simply wanted eddie to have the queer storyline, with or without buck. i do understand that. people can have favorite characters and want them to have specific storylines. but now, from a narrative standpoint, bi eddie and buddie seem very unlikely to ever happen in canon. buck girlies get to enjoy canon bisexual buck kissing a man on screen and being in love while they cannot and probably will never get that for eddie. at least not with a man, and let's be real, that's all the hardcore antis seem to care about. i think now, given all that has happened in s7, we're finally seeing people's favoritism unveiled (not that it wasn't obvious the entire time) and there is less unity on where the story should go for buck and eddie. suddenly, i think for the first time ever, hardcore buddie shippers are truly forced to actually view buck and eddie as individuals that live alongside each other as besties while having their own separate lives. it's funny to me that antis act as if people have "abandoned" eddie. he is getting heavy focus in s7? he is still a main character? shouldn't people be happy that his character is further explored and his trauma is hopefully finally worked on? i feel like i appreciate canon eddie more than many eddie girlies do just because many eddie girlies seem to enjoy a highly fanonized version of him only. and that fanon version is being shattered, due to bucktommy and now with eddie being confirmed to still love shannon, the love of his life. it's good for the 911 ecosystem. i hope this adjustment period will end soon, and people will finally calm down about the buddie agenda.

I truly did not even think about Eddie vs. Buck being such a huge trigger for the drama, which I why I love these constructive discussions. And I agree that if not for their friendship/the discussion of Buddie it could have created a lot of tension (“Buck’s getting more screen time, they’re making Eddie look like the bad guy, it’s not fair this and that”). It’s one of the reasons I suspect that small radical group may end up imploding because if they’re not getting the attention they want from us they’re going to start fighting amongst themselves.

I agree that if not to Buddie the idea of Eddie being queer would have never come up but then again I’m not sure any girlfriend would have been good enough? It’s a double-edged sword. And I think the show has amazing queer representation and adding another character journey so similar to Buck’s would seem too repetitive and do a disservice to the others because it would feel like a trend.

I did a post a while ago with a bit of a rant about how Ryan seems so excited about his future character development (think he’s ready to portray some good angst) and it was automatically brought back to Buddie. How is journey is really about Buddie and how it goes back to that. And talk about a disservice. You’d think people would be THRILLED for Eddie to get his own individual storyline but alas no.

I haven’t always been an Eddie fan, I may be biased towards Buck but whether it was intentional or not, I always found him to be a bit selfish and his relationship with Buck a bit more one way or another. Which could be me totally misreading it but this sesson?! OMG I’ve fallen in love with him again. He’s so silly and playful, the basketball scene where he’s doing that little head bop makes me all sorts of 😍😍😍. I feel like it’s a true representation of who he js and that’s probably why all the Shannon drama is coming up, he’s going back to himself and that brings back a lot of repressed trauma. Ryan has done phenomenal and is vulnerability as a “macho” man is so needed to be seen nowadays.

I agree as with everything you’ve said, it’s time to focus on the characters as separate entities who will always gravitate back to each other. No matter how bad a fight Eddie and Buck have or will have, they have such a special (platonic) relationship that I adore. Thank you so much for your ask, it brings up so many good points and definitely offers hope that these sorts of mindsets will drive us to continue to push the positive and ignore the negative!

#911 show #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #platonic buddie #i’m not anti buddie #i’m anti bullying and bullshit #great insight #oliver stark #ryan guzman #with a side of tommy and shannon #i feel like they’d be all sorts of sass together #anon ask

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nico-di-genova · 2 days

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Heart On Your Sleeve (I Think It's Mine)

Summary: Alex knows the pain of tasting a win only to have it ripped from you, the way it leaves you gaping and wounded and spilling every part of yourself across the floor. He knows the hurt, and yet it is worse to see it, somehow. Or: Post Indy 500 comfort for Pato, who so very dearly needs it.

Ao3 Link

Pato smells like shampoo, clean, hair damp against Alex’s skin where his lips are brushing the crown of Pato’s head. Beneath the cedarwood scent, there is the lingering undercurrent of rubber and gasoline, remnants of racing that are forever embedded in him – in both of them. It is a smell that tends to stick, soaked into the core of a driver and becoming a permanent piece of them.

Laying on the mattress at the back of Alex’s bus, with Pato curled up in his arms, his face buried in the crook of Alex’s neck, Alex breathes in the scent of him and tries to ground himself in the familiarity of it. He can’t afford to float off into his own thoughts, not with Pato still sobbing against him. They both lost today, but it is Pato who is tasting the sharp bitter taste of failure so strongly he is choking on it. Racing is in Pato’s blood, and it is spilling out of him, across the sheets, with every sob that wracks his body.

He had been so close. Alex had seen it.

“I got you,” Alex promises, tastes the shampoo as he does. “I got you, it’s okay.”

“It hurts,” Pato cries, shakes, clings to Alex tighter with hands that must have been so sure on the wheel earlier but now tremble when he curls them around the fabric of Alex’s shirt.

Alex knows it does, knows the pain of tasting a win only to have it ripped from you, the way it leaves you gaping and wounded and spilling every part of yourself across the floor. He knows the hurt, and yet it is worse to see it, somehow. To see the haunted sort of look on Pato’s face when Alex had asked him if he was okay and Pato had shook his head before stepping in front of the cameras, red-rimmed eyes and wobbly smile something that he couldn’t hide. And then in the press conference. In the shadows of the speedway as they made their way to Alex’s bus. In the shower, when Pato stood under the spray of the water and stared unseeingly at a spot on the wall behind Alex.

Alex had washed his hair and Pato had let him, arms limp at his side, leaned forward enough to rest his head against Alex’s chest and softly cried. Alex is not gentle with very many things, he can be abrasive, brusque, but when he lathered soap along Pato’s back and worked at the tension in his shoulders it was done with all the care and gentleness he possessed. And then he watched the soapy water swirl down the drain at their feet and hoped it took the day with it.

Instead, when he closes his eyes he sees Dixon passing him, Josef passing Pato, a sick shared parallel between the two of them. For a moment, Alex had given into the hope that he could pull it off, that they both could, when he and Pato had been trading the lead back and forth with each other and the racing had felt like riding a livewire. Alternating who had the clean air and the tow and being told by his engineer that they were focused on 1 and 2, that it was all beginning to slot together. He hadn’t been thinking far enough ahead then to consider which one of them would win, if second place would have felt satisfactory enough if it meant he got to watch Pato douse himself in milk. And then the cracks started to show, when they said Alex didn’t have the fuel to go all out, when he realized victory wouldn’t be his. It had fractured further when he watched Josef gain on Pato, shattered completely on the final lap, lay broken and crystalline in the pitlane when he got out of his car but had watched as Pato couldn’t.

He is trying to fix it, reassemble Pato and the hope back together with calloused hands, but Pato keeps shaking in his arms and he can’t seem to make the pieces fit.

“I got you,” he continues to promise, as Pato cries harder, clings tighter.

“Please,” Pato begs, and Alex doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. Release maybe, relief, something to ease the ache he must be feeling. The physical ache from having his body held so tightly for so long, or the mental one from replaying that last lap again and again trying to will it to go right. Alex knows he wouldn’t be able to vocalize it even if he tried, not with his throat raw from the sobbing and his breath coming out uneven.

He runs a hand along Pato’s back, presses a kiss to the crown of his head, tries to slow his own breathing so that Pato will maybe feel it and mimic him.

“Easy, Pato,” he tries, quiet against the drying tufts of Pato’s hair, like he’s speaking to a spooked animal.

“I can’t-“ Pato starts, chokes on a ragged inhale. His grip on Alex’s shirt goes so tight Alex can feel him begin to grab at skin, the pinprick of fingernails against his back.

“Easy.”

“It won’t-“Pato tries again, chokes again, presses himself impossibly closer to Alex.

Leave. Alex thinks, realizes. It won’t leave.

Alex closes his eyes and watches third place slip away, Pato keeps his closed and has the win dripping through his fingers like water, or like the blood he was offering in exchange for the chance to finally know what it felt like to have a wreath rested around him. He’s not in front of the cameras anymore, no media or fans to distract him with questions and praise and sympathy. It’s just them now, and instead of sleep offering relief, it is the repeat of a race they gave their all to that plays on a loop in both of their heads. Only, Alex has won here before, he at least has the relief of memory to fall back on, Pato has only the loss, the absence.

“Hey,” Alex soothes, “Pato, baby, come here. Look at me.”

He eases himself back, grips Pato by the shoulder and works to pry him away for long enough that he can actually see his tearstained face. There’s a damp patch on the collar of Alex’s shirt, moisture cooling at his neck. When Pato opens his eyes they are red-rimmed, glassy, and blood-shot.

“That’s it. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I- I need- the-“

“I know, it’s okay. It’s done. It’s okay.”

Pato’s lip trembles, his eyes fill with fresh tears.

He shakes his head and forces out raggedly, “It’s not.”

“It will be. I promise, baby, it will be. I know it hurts, but you’re hurting yourself more right now.”

He isn’t letting it go, not the way you have to once the adrenaline wears off and there’s nothing left but the loss. He’s clinging to the hurt of it with a desperate sort of wish that if he hopes enough it will change the outcome and they both know it won’t. This isn’t St. Pete, a fluke and a delayed win, this was just Josef having the better car and Pato already having admitted he had driven his to the limit. Alex knows he’d pulled everything from the McLaren, drained it of every bit of potential that it had till there was nothing left but the metaphorical fumes. He’s proud of Pato simply for somehow managing the performance that he did, but Pato is only seeing the back of Newgarden’s car as it crossed the line first.

“I can’t,” Pato pleads, unwraps his arms from where they’d been around Alex and then grabs at Alex’s chest instead. Alex lets him, lets him pull on his shirt until he’s pulled forward to close the gap between them again and Pato is breathing heavily in the hot air between them.

He moves his own hand up from where it was resting on Pato’s shoulder, threads his fingers through damp hair. His thumb rests at Pato’s temple, soothes at the headache he is sure is forming there, if not pounding already. Pato has been crying so much he’s surely lost what little water he did manage to sip down after the race.

“You have to let it go, Pato. You have to.”

“How?”

Bury it, shove it so far down you maybe forget the taste of it, push and keep pushing until there’s time until it works its way back up again. That’s what he would do, what he does, but that maybe wouldn’t work for Pato. He’s got his heart on his sleeve along with the rest of him, maybe wouldn’t know how to bury something at all.

"You focus on the next one, right?” Alex offers instead. “And then the one after that, and the next one. Until it’s next May and you go again.”

Because one of these days it will work, one of these days Pato will cross the line first. Alex believes that, unfailingly. He’s raced with hundreds of drivers, across so many series, and very few of them have driven the way Pato does. Quick with his hands and quick to recover and so very good at finding that space where they all want to be. He zones in with a precision Alex has experienced himself, but Pato somehow lands in much faster. He will win, because Alex has been a winner, and knows them, and can see the makings of it in the man he holds now.

“And the further you get, the less this one hurts.” He says it for himself just as much as Pato.

“But it hurts now,” Pato forces out around the breath he draws in, manages to say all four words even if they are muffled against the fabric of Alex’s shirt.

“And it won’t stop until you let it,” It’s a harsh truth, but a truth nonetheless, because Alex doesn’t like to lie. His comfort has always come in the simple form of brute honesty, and maybe that made him a dick sometimes, but sometimes it was just what it was.

Right now it’s what Pato needs to hear. Because Alex will continue to hold him, kiss him, whisper comforts against his cedarwood smelling hair as long as he needs, but it won’t change the race. And Pato will drift off to sleep in his arms restlessly, his breath evening out only in unconsciousness, but he will still wake with an empty look in his eyes and a distant gaze as long as he stays in that car. He could go in circles on that final lap forever, pull Alex along with him if he needed, but it wouldn’t change it. He knows that. Alex knows he does.

It’s close to midnight, the lamplight in the room is dim enough that it’s luring them both toward unconsciousness. Alex can feel the toll of 200 laps at 200+ mph beginning to set in, truly set in, and knows he’ll wake to the ache of it tomorrow. There was a time he could bounce back quicker, but he knows come morning there will be a soreness in his joints, his chest, that Pato will try to ease away with whatever breakfast he manages to produce from one of his many favorite spots. Or maybe with his hand around Alex’s cock, distracting him from the pain and replacing it with slow-building pleasure as he’s done in the past.

He takes care of Pato now, and Pato takes care of him tomorrow, and they pass comfort back and forth the way they had the lead today. But tonight he only needs Pato to breathe, to look at him with eyes that don’t shine with tears, to speak and not have his voice come out wrong. He needs to put Pato back together enough that the pieces hold just for a while, just long enough for him to get some sleep.

“I know it’s not the win you wanted. I know it hurts, and it sucks, and you maybe want to take a crowbar to Josef’s car-“

Pato laughs against him, breath warm against his skin. It doesn’t sound right, not yet, but it’s almost him. Almost, which is the best they can do right now, in the car and out of it.

“But I’m proud of you. The team is proud of you. You didn’t do a single thing wrong today, baby. It just wasn’t your day. Not yet.”

“Yet?” Pato asks, pulls back, shifts up on the mattress so he’s resting his head on a pillow alongside Alex. Face to face, Alex is able to trail a hand down from out of his hair to cup his jaw. His eyes are still shining in the light, but the tears don’t fall as steadily.

Alex smiles, really smiles, the sort only reserved for Pato because he doesn’t think it’s fair that Pato should get to express all the joy in their relationship. And because he isn’t an asshole, not really, he’s just careful with who he gives himself to.

“Of course, ‘yet’. Your name will be written here someday, and you’ll get to chug a mouthful of disgusting milk, and you’ll know how it feels to win here. I know it.”

“You do?” Pato asks, earnestly. There’s a light in his eyes, a dim ember, nowhere close to its usual spark, but rekindled, nonetheless. He asks it like Alex is responsible for deciding who wins himself, like Alex will be the one to wave that checkered flag come next May and welcome Pato to the brickyard, kneel beside him and kiss them like it’s a win they both have earned. He asks like he’s surprised Alex believes in him.

Alex feels like he’s made himself clear in that regard, what with the way he’d hugged Pato earlier and whispered in his ear that, ‘it should have been you. It will be you. One day.’ But maybe Pato hadn’t heard him over the crowd still chanting his name and the reporters calling to him and his own internal voice repeating that he was a failure too loudly to process much else at all.

So Alex repeats it in the silence of the bus, where he’s sure Pato will not miss it, “Of course.”

He shifts so there’s barely a breath between them at all, feels and hears Pato’s quiet inhale as Alex closes the distance and kisses him. Alex pours himself into it, into the gentle touch of his palm against Pato’s neck, the loop of his leg around Pato’s so he can pull the man to him fully. Pato tastes like salty tears, Alex licks them away. He closes his eyes and dredges up things he has buried, just long enough that Pato can maybe taste them, the honesty of it, and then he packs it all away again and pulls back.

Pato chases him, and Alex laughs, soft and breathy.

“No wait, let me finish,” he demands.

Pato stills, nods, opens his eyes from where they’d fluttered closed during the kiss.

Heart on his sleeve, Alex thinks when all he sees is love, but then Pato smiles at him, and he thinks he maybe isn’t hiding his own heart as well as he thinks. He’s seen the photos the social admins post, the ones where he’s staring at Pato with so much adoration it’d be impossible to miss how much he respects him. Affection pouring off of him through the cracks in his mask that he isn’t sure if he wants to fix sometimes.

He swallow and then confesses, “Dixon passed me today because I let up. Because I was coasting, and he was to the floor, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about third place or fourth, Because you got around Josef and I watched it. It should have been you, Pato. And it wasn’t today, but it will be. I don’t believe in fate, or luck, but I believe in you. Even if you don’t right now.”

It’s sappy, and cheesy and everything Alex hates, but all the things Pato loves. The words come easier when he has Pato grinning at him.

“You were watching me?”

“I was cheering your name. Along with everyone else. Your world remember?”

Pato’s brow furrows until he remembers their car ride from a few days ago. The joke Alex had made to the cameras about it ‘just being Pato’s world’, how maybe Alex hadn’t meant it as a joke at all.

“Shut up, it is not,” Pato laughs, shoves harmlessly at Alex’s chest.

“Maybe not to everyone else,” he admits, grabs Pato’s wrist and raises it to kiss at the exposed skin there, feeling his heartbeat against his lips.

Pato stills, lips parted slightly, tear tracks on his cheeks dry and breathes out fully. It doesn’t catch in his throat, isn’t choked by grief and failure.

“So it is just you fighting me for the win next year then?”

Alex grins, “Of course. I’m not just gonna give it to you.”

“Oh? No?”

“No, gonna push you all the way to the line. Make you earn it.”

It’s late, and they need to sleep, and Alex isn’t meaning to veer into suggestive territory, but he ends up there somehow anyway. He’s not even slightly interested, dick soft in his sweatpants and exhaustion pulling at him now that he doesn’t have Pato falling apart in his arms to focus on.

Pato waggles his eyebrows, “Oh yeah? Earn it? I thought I was pretty good at that?”

“Eh, sometimes. If you’re trying to get me to call you a ‘good boy’ again you’ll have to wait until morning though.”

Pato pouts, but quickly loses it to the yawn that escapes him.

By one, they’re asleep, Pato curled back up in Alex’s arms with his back pressed to Alex’s chest. Outside, there is the occasional bark of a dog, the shout of someone who had found satisfaction in their race finish and was content to party for the sake of it. But they are not content people, Alex and Pato, unless it came to each other. Pato is restless, hungry for more, and Alex has never known when to stop moving, stop chasing, stop hunting for another win. So tonight they do not party, instead, they fall asleep to the steady sound of each other’s breathing in Alex’s bus while Pato’s stands empty and largely untouched.

“So proud,” Alex mumbles when he’s on the edge of unconsciousness, teetering in and out of awareness, “Always.”

He doesn’t know if Pato is already asleep, if he hears him, and then he himself isn’t awake to gauge if there’s any sort of response. But it doesn’t matter anyway, he’ll say it again come morning, say it until Pato believes it. Alex doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but he’s put a piece of it on Pato’s, lets the man carry it and trusts him enough to do so. It’s the piece that makes loving Pato easy, the piece that believes he’ll win at the brickyard, and he’s given it to Pato in hopes that one day he will believe in himself too.

#pato o'ward #alexander rossi #palex #first time writing indycar fic #I come from f1 land so...idk how this is...we'll see #anyway I just think they're neat!#And I think pato should continue to get all the hugs from everyone for the rest of time forever

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