#I want him suffering till he breaks and crys

[grimreaperofroleplay]

I don't know about you but my bingo card for S3 of maws is just gonna be full of Clark suffering through the after affects of the black mercy shit because God let us see this boy vulnerable and in need of a therapy session, that's the least he deserves after the shit pack the writers put him through, It's also because I want to PHYSICALLY see this 6 something ft man BREAK INTO SOBS AFTER UNABLE TO SAVE SOMEONE BECAUSE GOD I NEED THAT, I NEED TO HIM NOT ABLE TO SAVE SOMEONE BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T WANT TO BE SAVED I WANT HIM TO SHATTER I WANT HIM TO CRY AND BREAK!! I WANT HIM TO SUFFER I WANT TO SEE HIM IN SUCH A FRAGILE STATE THAT SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS A MISUNDERSTOOD WORD GETS TO HIM. I WANT HIM BROKEN.

Anyways

Thank you for coming to my pep talk^^

[stvolanis]

i loveeeeee ur writing ah!!!!! just read ur most recent farleigh one and i was foaming at the mouth <3 idk if ur reqs are open but i cant stop thinking about being in a situationship with farleigh and finally getting sick of it, u break up with him and hes like ‘?? whatever’ thinking that u will come back but when u dont after a few days/weeks he starts lowkey panicking and basically begging u to take him back… just need him crying begging and being pathetic <3 rlly making him beg for it and purposely making him jealous with other guys just to make him suffer :p then when u finally decide to forgive him he fucks u crazy good and RAW 💕

Thank you so much! Also, sorry if this isn’t like EXACTLY what you wanted D:

Love & War

PAIRINGS: Farleigh Start! X Fem! Reader

WARNINGS: foul language, situationship, toxic! Farleigh, mentions of drugs & alcohol, angst, possessiveness, jealousy, crying

NSFW WARNINGS: Switch! Farleigh, Switch! Reader, choking, spitting, tummy bulge, face sitting, breath play, slight size kink, slapping, degradation, praise, dumbification

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Farleigh Start was a cunning, asshole of a man. You’d know, because you’ve been in love with him since you’re late highschool days.

Well—you didn’t know him personally till you both started attending Oxford. You admired him from a distance, as did many other people. You were never popular enough to bask in his limelight. You only ever dreamed of being with someone as amazing as him.

You thought Farleigh had no idea who you were, and truth be told, he didn’t. But he knew of you. He seen you everywhere, always somehow where he was. You were pretty, probably the most prettiest girl he’d ever seen; you were just so quiet. He knew that the people he hung around would eat you alive. You wouldn’t survive in his world.

So, he never dragged you into it. He watched you from afar for years, both of you unknowingly having feelings for each other. Deep down inside, Farleigh knew his friends weren’t the only reason he couldn’t be with you. He, himself had many issues of his own. One of the worst ones being his fear of rejection, and the second runner up; his pride. Always held so high, never coming down for anyone. It would get him hurt one day, but he’d have to realize that on his own.

When you began attending Oxford, you became friends with Oliver, who had become friends with Felix. He was your ticket into the “in crowd”, as you liked to call it.

You attended parties, stuck around for drinks and quickly grew popularity of your own. This didn’t go unnoticed by Farleigh, who you finally, after years of silence, began to talk to.

It was everything you imagined. He was nice, funny, a bit of a bitch in just the right way. Even when you were in a group of people, your eyes somehow always found his. The two of you would sneak away together, talk about nothing aimlessly for hours on end. Counting stars as you rambled about your favorite constellation.

At night, you’d meet at the bridge, sit on the edge in complete silence just to be in each others presence. Your hands would meet, and electricity sparked through your body. He made you feel like you were walking on clouds, and there was never a dim day when you were with him.

He was charismatic, confident, charming—everything you wanted to be. You were complete opposites of each other, but in just the right way to balance each other out. He noted every little thing about you, so much so that he began to do some of the things you did.

He’d use the dorky slang you used subconsciously when talking to other people, or start playing with the pretty rings on his finger like you told him you did when you got nervous. He listened to the music you recommend him, and connected the dots as to why you liked those songs. It all made sense, they explained you perfectly.

Everything was going great, till it wasn’t.

You didn’t know how it happened, or why, or maybe even what you could’ve done that changed him—but suddenly, he started acting different around you. The time you spent together was shortening and as were his touched and glances.

And the worst part about it? You weren’t in a relationship. You never where, but everyone just kinda knew that you were Farleighs’, and Farleigh was yours. No one ever questioned it, not even you, till now.

As you sat across Farleigh at the pub, playing with the flimsy black straw in your cocktail. You were so tired of him and his hot and cold actions and words. First moment he wanted you, and the next, he acts like he doesn’t even know you. It hurts, and you were sick of it.

Farleigh was talking to Felix about their home in Saltburn and stupid stories of how they used to throw these ‘amazingly grand’ parties during the summer and breaks they had. You huffed, standing up before harshly pushing in your chair. Why did you have to sit here and deal with this fuckary if you didn’t have to? You deserved better than the half-assed shit he was barely even offering.

As you walked away from the table full of people, a certain pair of eyes followed you, but you’d rather have died than look back. You heard footsteps follow hastily behind you as you exited the pub, the cold air welcoming you as you shivered.

“What’s your problem?” He shouted from behind you. You laughed dryly, spinning around to face him on your heel. “Oh you must be fucking kidding.” You laughed out. “My problem? No, what the fuck is your problem?” You yelled back at him.

“You’re the one who stormed off like a damn toddler! So enlighten me.” He fired back at you with furrowed brows. You felt your eyes water. God, you didn’t want to cry in front of him, but it hurt so badly. “Farleigh…why are you being like this?” You muttered.

He groaned as he ran a hand down is face. “Jesus, what are you on about?” He yelled out. “You keep leading me on!! I don’t understand it. You want me one second and the next you don’t!” You yelled back, pausing for a moment.

“You act like you love me and leave me the next second and it hurts, Farleigh. You hurt me!” You sobbed out, wiping your tears from your cheeks with your sleeve. He was taken aback for a moment, his mouth opening and closing. Almost as it he was at a loss for words. “That’s not—no, I didn’t—“ he started, but you cut him off as he reached to grab you.

“No. We’re done. Whatever we had is done. It’s over.” You said as you back away from him. Something inside of him snapped, and you could see it in the way his jaw clenched and eyes hardened. “Fine. Go on then. See if I give a fuck.” He chuckled out, shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out his mouth. After everything you’ve said and done together, he has the audacity to act like he’s the superior one in this situation? It was the icing on the cake for you.

Tears ran down your face, and as they hit the ground, Farleigh felt his heart clench. Never did he wanna hurt you, but it’s what he had to do, or so he thought. He was gonna have to leave to go back to Saltburn with Felix in a month, and he couldn’t bring himself to take you.

Yes, he had fun times at Saltburn—but his family was crazy, rich, narcissistic assholes and he didn’t want you around them. More over, he didn’t want someone like Venetia to corrupt you in that way. He didn’t want you to become like her.

He knew he was being a dick, distancing himself from you. And he planned to keep it that way, but god, you made it nearly impossible to stay away. You were so inviting, how could he not succumb to his urges when it comes to you? He knew better, but he felt on top of the world when he was with you and he didn’t wanna let that go.

Watching you walk away from him right now made tears form in his own eyes, but all he could do is watch as you slipped further and further away from him. And he knew it was all his fault. All because he couldn’t communicate to you what the problem with himself was. He felt like such a coward, but he refused to hurt you more than he already had.

It had only been two weeks since you and Farleigh fell off. It was hard for you, and it was the hardest thing you’d ever done, but it was needed. You knew that.

When you stopped talking to him, you continued being friends with Felix and Oliver, but it was a nuisance. You were trying your hardest to forget about the tall, curly haired man and move on with your life, but they nearly made it impossible.

When you would all hang out, other friends included, Farleigh would show up and say act as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you. Felix and Oliver weren’t dumb, Farleigh was the one who came crying to them about what had happened. They seen right through Farleighs facade, acting as if he’s okay.

They were doing this kind of stuff on purpose, casually. Asking you about Farleigh, or bringing him up in conversation. They wanted you to give Farleigh another shot, but you gave him one too many chances to redeem himself, and you weren’t having it.

Felix invited you to one of his little frat parties, and I say little very lightly, because everyone knows the entire campus attends his parties.

You had no interest, but Oliver had insisted on you coming. Making it his mission to drag you out of the comfort of your bed. “You need this.” He insisted as he dug through your clothes. He pulled out an ed-hardy, strapless dress and some red platformed boots. “Oh this is fuckin’ perfect, love.” He smiled as he held it up to you.

“I dunno, Ollie. I don’t think I should go..” you muttered as you sat down on the edge of your bed, bringing your knees to your chest. Oliver sighed. “Cmon, just let loose tonight. You’ve been moping around for like ever!” He huffed out, yet a smile returning to his face as he held up some jewelry. “These’ll go good with it.” He urged.

You groaned and got up, snatching the clothes and jewelry out of his hands. “Out.” You grumbled. Oliver clapped his hands excitedly as he stepped out so you could get dressed.

The ed-hardy dress he chose for you hugged your curves in all the right places, your tits pushed together with the small padding built into the dress. You let Oliver back in and his jaw dropped. “You look fucking edible! Maybe you’ll get laid tonight.” He said, bumping your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, yet a smile danced on your lips. Oliver always knew how to make the best out of a bad situation, and you loved him for that. “Let’s go before I change my mind.” You laughed, he nodded his head.

When you arrived to the party, the lights were flashing different colors. Red, blue, green, etc. it reflected off of Felixs’ shirt as he approached you, Farleigh following next to him. You clicked your tongue and looked around for an exit.

A boy caught your eye. You’d seen him around the campus, he was friends with Felix a while ago but Farleigh didn’t like him, which ended with Felix ending their friendship. Nathan, was his name, you thought as you approached him.

His eyes trailed up and down your body, stopping at your breasts that were spilling out of the thin top part of your dress. “Hey.” You purred, batting your lashes up at him. He smiled. He was handsome, you had to admit—but no where near as handsome as Farleigh.

You shook your head from the thought, directing your attention back to the mediocre boy in front of you. “Hey, baby.” He whistled out. You giggled, obviously fake, but he couldn’t tell; most likely strung out on cocaine and alcohol.

His hands snaked around your waist and he pulled you to him. He was disgustingly sweaty and reeked of cheap cologne, almost as if he poured the whole bottle on himself. Sickeningly too strong, making you gag. You forced yourself to ignore it, instead focusing on the way his hands cupped your ass in your dress.

You turned around, your back pressed to his front, only to be met with Farleighs eyes from across the body-filled room. He was staring at you, then down to the hands around your waist, and his jaw clenched. Anger, betrayal and hurt was all Farleigh felt as he watched some stranger feel you up.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. He brought this upon himself, and he knew that. But he also knew he’d do anything for your forgiveness, so he marched his way over to where you stood. You knew you should have ran away, but you didn’t.

You let him rip you away from the stranger holding you. You let him drag you all the way back to your dorm silently, a painfully tight grip on your upper arm the whole way there. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

Once you reached your dorm, he slammed you against the door that was now shut. “What the fuck was that, hm?” He muttered. But something was different. His voice, still hard, wavered and you noticed tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You muttered.

All the sudden, he broke down. The tall boy, usually filled with confidence and pride fell to his knees before you with a small, barely noticeable sob. You stood there, unknowing of what to do, or what to say. This was new territory for you.

“M’sorry, baby. Please—“ he said through his tears. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Know I was I piece of shit, I’m sorry.” He repeated the words you longed to hear over and over again. “I’m sorry.” He said. Those two words weren’t ever said enough from him, and you basked in every moment he said it. It made you feel a sense of power over him.

You turned his arrogant, cocky ass into a whiney little boy begging for your forgiveness at your feet and, nasty enough, you fucking loved it. You loved that only you were able to bring him to his knees like this.

“Oh, You’re sorry? Hm?” You cooed down at him, running your fingers through his curly hair. He sniffled as he looked up at you, his pretty lashes wet with tears. “So fuckin’ sorry. Promise I’ll be better.” He muttered out, hugging your stomach.

“Prove it.” You told him. He rubbed his eyes with one of his hands as he looked up at you again. “What?” He muttered. You smiled. “Get on the bed.” was all you said.

He nodded before climbing onto the bed, laying on his back. “What—“ he started, but you didn’t let him finish. “Eat my pussy good, make me cum with your mouth and then I’ll forgive you.” You said. He sat up on his elbows and watched you undress through hooded eyes, till you were wearing absolutely nothing.

Your nipples grew hard under the cold air, and the wetness between your thighs he could see from where he lied on your bed; it glistened in the dim light of your bedroom. Your lips were glossy and plump as your tongue glided over them, and he felt his cock harden in his pants.

You climbed on top of him, hovering your pussy over his face. His mouth watered at the sight, and he gripped his cock through his pants. Your lowered yourself onto him till your full weight rested on his face.

He began lapping at your cunt with everything he had. Licking and slurping at your juices that ran down his chin. You tasted like heaven on his tongue, and he couldn’t get enough. You were the drug in him, and he was going fucking wild.

He was a starved man, and it had been too long since he had you like this. He whined when you lifted off of his face, pushing his head back down when he tries to extend his neck to connect his mouth to your pussy again desperately.

You click your tongue. “So desperate, hm?” You mocked with a laugh. Farleigh played nice long enough, you were holding up his meal, and he didn’t like it. “M’not fuckin done.” He growled out. You let out a gasp as his arms wrapped around your thighs, slamming you back down onto his mouth.

You moaned out as his tongue swirled around your bundle of nerves. “Farleigh!” You yelped. He groaned into your messy cunt, sending vibrations through it that had your head falling back. “Perfect little cunt.” He said, Voice muffled by your pussy.

His laps at your cunt more erratic as your moans became more high pitched, signaling that you were on the verge of your orgasm. Your hips moved against his face, your hands entangling themselves in his hair as you glided your cunt across his tongue.

“M’gonna cum, oh my god—“ you moaned out as you squeezed your breast. Farleigh moaned. “Cum on my fuckin’ tongue. Good girl” He grumbled against you as you felt a wave of pleasure roll off of you. The little pinch in your stomach finally releasing into that delicious orgasm you were so desperately chasing.

Farleigh was drowning in your juices, slurping and licking, taking everything you had to offer. He let you ride out your orgasm, your little clit bumping his nose in just the right way, your moans growing lower as you came down from your high breathlessly.

“M not done with you. Actin like a fuckin slut, letting that motherfucker touch you.” He said through clenched teeth as flipped you around onto your back, hoisting your legs over his shoulders.

He lined his cock to your entrance, clenching around nothing. He smeared his pre-cum around your folds before slowly, almost teasingly, sinking into you. You felt him fill you so full of him, almost painfully. The sting was so agonizingly good, and you wanted more.

When he bottomed out in you, his bottom lip was between his teeth, biting down so hard he nearly drew blood. You yelped when he lifted his hips before harshly slamming himself back into you, over and over again.

His pace began to pick up, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass loudly. You gripped around him firmly, so much so that he could barely pull out of you. It made him wince, but he wanted this more than anything. He’s been craving this since you left him; he jacked himself off at night to the thought of being in your warmth.

His hand found it’s way to your throat, gripping tightly. “Take this cock, baby. Know this slutty pussy can take it.” He muttered as pried your mouth open with his thumb. He spit into your mouth, lightly slapping the side of your face, signaling for you to swallow, to which you did.

You felt so small beneath him as he pounded relentlessly into you, the grip on your throat never wavering. His groans were like music to your ear, and the sudden flip in him turned you on to no extent. It was fucking perfect how he could be so needy in two different ways. First, begging for anything you’ll give him, and the next, taking what he wanted from you desperately.

“You with me, honey?” He moaned out against your ear. You mumbled incoherently, your words slurring together. You couldn’t focus enough to form a sentence with the way he was fucking you, your mind going blank. “Fucked you dumb. My stupid little whore.” He mocked as his hips stuttered against yours.

You knew he was close by the way he throbbed and swelled inside you, squeezing down onto him more as he hit that bundle of nerves inside of you with each thrust. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gripped onto Farleighs wrist that held your neck, heels digging into his back.

His breathing was uneven and both of your bodies were sweaty messes together, but what really had you in a chokehold was the way that even when he was dominating you, his whimpers never stopped. Still so needy for your cunt as you let him take what he needed from you helplessly.

He came deep inside of you, painting your gummy walls white with his seed. His hips stilled against you, making sure to stuff you full of his cum, not wanting any of it to go to waste. When he finally released your neck, you looked down to where you were connected but your eyes froze on the sight before you.

His tamed mound of hair above his cock was soaked with your juices, but what really got you, was the evident bulge showing through your stomach. He grabbed your hand, holding it onto your stomach where the bulge of his cock was. “Feel that? Remember, only I can fuck you this good.” He spat out as he pressed down, and you released a moan at the sensation.

His free hand traveled down to your clit, rubbing harshly and fast. “Gonna cum, please, can I cum?” You whimpered out as you clenched the sheets beneath you. Farleigh nodded feverishly. “Cum for me, be a good girl.” He muttered as he slowly fucked his cock into you at just the right pace.

The way he dragged along your walls, paired with the stimulation on your swollen clit, deprived clit had you reaching for the moon as you came for a second time tonight. Your mouth hung agape, not a word slipping out as a breathless moan slid past your plump lips. You needed this. You’d been craving this, and you finally got it.

Farleigh nestled himself in you, leaning his head down till his forehead was pressed against yours. Your hair was matted to your forehead from sweat, as was Farleighs, but you didn’t care. It was the least of your concerns. All you wanted was him, and you finally had him again, and this time it actually felt right.

But the words he spoke was what sealed the deal for you.

“I love you, y/n. From the moment I seen you sitting alone at lunch when we we’re sophomores back in Highschool, I’ve loved you. I loved you when you were small, shy and quiet, barely knowing anyone; and I love you now when you’re the socialist butterfly I know. I love you when you laugh, when you smile, when you speak, and even when you cry.” He said, tears running down your face.

“I will always love you.” He finished, kissing the tears that fell onto your rosy cheeks.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[psblooms]

and I would’ve married you, if you’d have stuck around

𓍯𓂃 angst lee heeseung x female reader works word count: 1148 non-idol au. the fall of a relationship and the period waiting for the end. contains: break ups, long distance relationship, flashbacks on italics

as people grow apart and new relationships start, sometimes old ones tend to die alone, with more questions than answers, without villains or heroes; relationships you expected to last long end up being the thing you now long. the moments spent together in rose color glasses become dull and full of hurt, and the wishes you made of never forgetting those moments of happiness come back remembering the promise; only this time, the person you shared them with is not with you anymore to reminiscence them.

growing out of relationships always tends to hurt, but the fact that this was a romantic relationship that had the build-up of your life meant that it was also going to ache for maybe as long as he was part of your life.

the worst part tends to be ending because of a fight and the feeling of regret for ever choosing to be with a person like that. Sadly, this was not the case; each other's personalities were the perfect match, you got along well, and you became friends with each other's friends. you always felt like your relationship was the closest thing to perfection.

until it wasn't.

trying to pinpoint the moment you knew this relationship was nearing its end was impossible for your mind. it was unknown to you if it was your subconscious trying to protect you or the fact that it really came out of the blue. as days went out and you went from crying all night to finally starting to go back to the routine you realized just how much was he a part of your life. the fact that you were living your life as if nothing happened was not the easiest thing when you remembered you could not call him at the end of the day.

saying his name hurt, thinking about him ached, and the fact that the place you still lived at was a graveyard of memories would not help you from thinking that maybe if you called his number, he would answer and come to you.

"what happened?" he asked while catching his breath after opening the door of your apartment.

"I just hurt my finger with the hammer," you said while running your hand through the cold water in the kitchen sink.

dried tears in your warm cheeks were apparent to him so while he ran for your first aid kit his voice echoed throughout the walls. "I told you to wait till I came to help, you were just so excited right?"  

and he told you about his day while bandaging up your finger and helping you finish assembling the new bookshelf  

and now that same bookshelf that holds some of your favorite framed photos with him seated empty in the living room. breakups are usual in people's lives, but maybe you would have more of a reason to be sad and depressed if he had been a shitty boyfriend, or if he had cheated, but instead, he had been the perfect boyfriend for all the two years you had been together.

he broke up with you. on a cold night in your daily facetime call, he was sad, and tired and it hurt you to see him hurting, the easiest way to make him hurt less was to accept his request between sighs.

"i think we should break up"  

the sinking feeling in your stomach was still there, you wanted to fix whatever there was to fix, but nothing would fix something that was not entirely broken, he was, and your relationship was suffering. even if you tried to reach out he was not trying to hold you any longer.

he was your everything. he was the only constant thing in your life for a long long time, he was your friend before he was your boyfriend. and now, as much as you hate to say it, he was gone and he continued his life miles away from you while you felt like everything around you was falling apart.

“It’s just going to be for a year okay? I’ll be back soon” heeseung said holding you closer while laying on his bed with you.

you were helping him pack, putting you feelings aside while he put his life away in suitcases.

“I’m going to miss you a lot” you whispered while holding back tears and hugging him harder.

“I’ll miss you too, but I’ll call you every night to tell you that I love you okay?” He reassured you with a kiss on you head and a warm pat on your back.

oh, how naive you were thinking thinking you’d be the exception to you friend group bad experiences with long distance.

what where you going to do now? where would you put all of his stuff that stayed at his place? where would you store all his gifts and photos? where would you hold all the love you felt for him?

what. comes. next?

your heart was broken, your tears were dry, you felt like everything was over and that felt out of character. he was yours for a while and you needed to move on since you were unable to turn back time, but why was it so hard?

is he hurting to? is he having a hard time falling asleep? did he threw away your gifts? you hoped you were not the only one feeling this way, but still, you were not brave enough to ask, scared of the sheer chance that he was better off.

you wanted to hold on a little longer to these selfish feelings you had, to hold onto the memories, to the kisses and the late night calls. to the hope that maybe this was a nightmare and you would wake up back in his arms, that this relationship was not over and that the issues could be fixed, you were dreaming that maybe you could save yourself from the doom of this heartbreak.

but every morning, as the morning came, doomsday came along reminding you of the fact that you were still miles away from him, with a numbness inside you and unable to move on from a love like his.

your life will go on, and so will his, there will come a time where lee heeseung will be a memory of your past, and maybe you’ll be okay with that; okay with not knowing what made him want to break up with you, okay with him finding someone new. one day that won’t be a big deal.

but for now you still have those questions, and they take away your sleep, you still love him and it will take a long time to unlearn how to do it, and you’ll watch him move on through pictures and post of his friends, and you’ll hope he’s happy. so much happier than how he was with you.

[bakugo-softski]

In which Izuku is left quirkless, so they find a new reason

Katsuki stayed crouched above Izuku, pinning one arm with his foot and clasping the other, pressed to the floor of the training mat. Almost in an exact replica of their fight at ground beta all those months ago, minus one arm and a slight change in hand placement. They both stay like that, breathing heavily, staring into eachothers eyes with the mutual feeling of impending doom sat heavily between them.

Because Izuku was getting weaker.

Katsuki had noticed, though he tried his best to ignore it. They both did, afraid to speak it into reality. Afraid for their dynamic to change. But as Katsuki had an easier and easier time pinning Izuku, as the embers slowly died out, they both found it hard to ignore that this…whatever it was they had, was coming to an end. Katsuki felt frantic, empty. Watching as something dear died before him, completely out of his reach.

Izuku had resolved to accept his fate, his eventuality. He didn’t mind being quirkless again. The loss held between them came from a different place, and they both knew it.

“…Kacchan?” Sad. So sad.

Katsuki released his hold and stood up, before offering Izuku his hand to help the boy up, too. They stood in silence, Izuku still breathing heavily and looking embarrassed about it, unable to find the words to express what they both clearly wanted to say to eachother.

“I’ll make katsudon tonight.” A common condolence when Izuku suffered yet another decline in power. It seemed now that one for all was gone for good, the embers inside izuku were dying at an increased rate than what All Might had gone through. The embers seemed to die at a steady rate regardless if Izuku used OFA or not. When they’d realized, they’d fought eachother deep into the night, openly crying at eachother and throwing punches. A silent agreement they’d do this as often as they could, until they couldn’t anymore.

This.. felt like a goodbye. Katsuki stared into Izuku’s eyes and felt like he was at a funeral.

“…okay. Thank you, Kacchan.”

With one last look into Izuku’s eyes, Katsuki turned and walked out, Izuku staying behind to put distance between them. To give eachother space. Katsuki managed to stifle the sob caught in his throat till he made it onto the elevator.

.

.

.

Katsuki poked the pork frying in the pan on autopilot. In his head, he thumbed through the same stack of thoughts sitting heavily in his mind like clockwork. He felt lost, weak, trapped. Condemned to a fate he had no control over. They wouldn’t be able to keep sparring. Izuku had stopped being able to keep up with catch-a-kacchan months ago, and they had been staying ground-level for a while but they both knew even that was too much for him now. The embers were barely even there anymore.

Katsuki hadn’t seen Izuku since he’d left him at the gym. They hadn’t texted eachother, either. What would they even say? There weren’t words. Katsuki didn’t have the words.

At this, Izuku makes his first appearance in hours, to slink into the kitchen and stand beside Katsuki. He’s silent for a moment.

“…Can i help?”

Katsuki is relieved those were the words that came out of Izuku’s mouth, instead of..well.

He lets out a little breath of relief.

“Sure. Grab the egg, mirin and soy sauce for me.” Mix those together-equal parts, four eggs, and chop some of those green onions while you’re at it.”

“Got it.” Izuku flits around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and settling again beside Katsuki, beginning his task.

They don’t know how to bring it up, but the silence is somehow comfortable, each settling in to their tasks, accomplishing the same goal of katsudon together. Katsuki can’t say it, but he’s thankful to have a reason to be near Izuku like this. Even if it is just making a meal together. They don’t say much else, afraid to break whatever fragile comfort they’d created.

They ate in silence. And then stared into space together, in silence. And then Katsuki said he’d wash their dishes, and then Izuku left, in silence; and Katsuki wished he’d asked for help instead.

.

.

.

10:24pm.

Katsuki stared into the dark, in silence. Thought about texting Izuku. Couldn’t find the words.

.

.

.

It’s Saturday. Katsuki came down to make breakfast. Hoped to see Izuku, but he didn’t show. Thought about taking the food to him, put it in the fridge instead.

.

.

.

4:24pm. He’d stayed in the common room the whole day, but Izuku never showed, and Katsuki couldn’t find the words to give him a reason to seek the boy out. What could he even say? “You haven’t eaten all day.” ? As if. How stupid for Katsuki to care about that when…when he couldn’t even..

Fuck it. A reasons a reason, he supposes.

Katsuki sped through the curry prep, in a hurry to get it to Izuku’s door and tell him he hasn’t eaten all day. With two steaming bowls held on a dish platter, because he didn’t want his to get cold while he ate alone, he marched his way up to Izuku’s room and knocked firm, once, twice, and waited.

Izuku opened the door quickly, and Katsuki saw he was in a similar shape to himself, dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t slept either.

“You haven’t eaten.” An observation, a request, a plea.

Izuku looked at the bowls, took one. Stood in the doorway, awkward.

At the same time Katsuki makes to turn away, Izuku speaks up. “Do you want to come in? You just, you have two bowls. You don’t have to…but. Um. I’d like you to.”

His response was immediate. “Yeah.” A breath, a small relief. A break from the pain.

They both settle down on Izuku’s bed to eat, backs against the wall. Close, even if neither one of them acknowledged it. They didn’t speak. Until,

“Um. So, theres a show I started a couple days ago. Do..you wanna watch it with me?” Izuku digs around for the remote. Kacchan grunts for him to go ahead, so he turns it on from the beginning and they settle back in to eating, watching together.

.

.

.

8:52pm.

They’re on episode five now, bowl’s of curry empty and forgotten on the floor beside the bed. They’ve pulled Izuku’s blanket up over their legs and are zoned into the show, a merciful relief. A reason. Katsuki hides his yawns as subtly as he can, and Izuku pretends not to notice.

They both pretend not to notice when Katsuki subtly shifts further into the bed, afraid to break the spell. They’re both tired enough to not think about it.

.

.

.

6:46am.

Katsuki blinks his eyes open and finds the clock on the wall that doesn’t belong to him, and then feels legs that also don’t belong to him entangled with his own. He can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed about it. Izuku is sleeping peacefully, soft snores and breaths coming out in little puffs, one hand resting peacefully on his chest and the other holding Katsuki’s forearm, which was sat snuggly against the curve of Izukus side, being held in place in the air. Katsuki didn’t dare move. The TV sat dark and paused on the wall, long forgotten. He’d have to check to see when they both fell asleep so they knew how far back to go, he thought idly. A problem for later, though.

He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

.

.

.

When he woke back up Izuku was silencing his phone, his ringtone for Uraraka being cut short and detangling his legs from Katsuki’s in order to stand up from the bed.

“We uh...we fell asleep last night.”

“…Yeah.” A yawn.

“The show’s good. Whats the last part you remember? We’re probably gonna have to find where we left off.”

“Oh uh, i think..the new guy, the blonde one had just fought with that guy in the boat restaurant. I think he was gonna leave.”

“Huh? The last thing I remember is whats her name and whats his face playing some drinking game.”

A chuckle. “I’ll go back and find our spot tonig-when we-um. Anyway. I’m..I’m glad you liked it, Kacchan.”

“I’ll come back tonight. And we can watch more.” Small reliefs. Small reliefs, small reliefs.

A smile, small, shared. “I’d like that.”

Silence.

“So. Um. It’s..it’s Sunday.”

Sundays they typically spent the whole day in the gym, sparring, being in each others company. Katsuki didn’t get much physically from their sparring sessions these days, they both knew it. They seemed to be at an understanding though, of what they got from their Sundays together.

Suddenly, Katsuki had a thought. The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them, eager to run from the conversation he so badly feared having.

“Lets go play some fucking baseball, Zuku.”

Izuku’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks funny like that, Katsuki thinks. It makes his stomach do a weird little flip that he usually only felt in the heat of the moment during their fights and sparring sessions, back when Izuku was at full strength. The feeling puts a surprised little crease between his own brows.

“…hah..what?” Izuku’s smiling, confused.

Katsuki keeps going, fueled by the quick return of the feeling he hasn’t felt in months, replacing the impending doom.

“C’mon, nerd, let’s go to the batting cages back home and play some fucking baseball. Maybe we can stop at your moms and say hi or something while we’re out.”

Silence. But..different this time. Better. Expectant.

Izuku huffs out a little laugh, relief of some sort.

“Yeah, Kacchan, that sounds good.”

It does sound good, Katsuki thinks.

.

.

.

“Hold your fucking arms higher, nerd!”

“Shuddup! I know how to hit a ball, Kacchan!”

“Getting cocky? Since when do you talk back to me you little shit?” Katsuki hasn’t felt this much like himself in months.

“You make it easy being such a know-it-all, Kacchan.”

“I’m a know-it-all, because i know it all, you little asshole. Don’t you patronize me.”

They’re both laughing, and Izuku is trying his best to hit the baseballs flying towards him in between snorts of laughter and playful banter. It’s so easy like this. Katsuki had imagined the day Izuku’s ember’s went out a million times, he imagined it like death, but this didn’t feel like death at all. This felt like..the birth of something new.

Then, suddenly,

“Lemme show you how it’s done, nerd.”

Izuku backs up and turns to hand Katsuki the bat but Izuku misinterpreted what he meant, because Katsuki turns him back around and comes up behind him with his hands on his shoulders.

“Pick your arm up dummy, higher, angle it like this, you want to meet the ball at the same angle its coming at you.” Katsuki takes Izukus arm and imitates hitting the ball the way he wants him to, and then pushes Izuku forward again. Izuku is weirdly quiet, now.

“Try it like that. And don’t be pissed when it’s better than your way.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Kacchan.”

*CRACK*

“…Fine. Don’t be rude about it, though. You’re still a know-it-all.”

Katsuki can’t contain his shit eating grin, and that feeling in his gut is back with a vengeance.

“There’s a reason for that, Zuku.”

.

.

.

Inko was delighted at the unexpected visit, flitting around to whip something up for the two and offering apologies for not having more ready for them both. In the end, they’d eaten curry for the second day in a row, but neither of them commented on it, happy to be in Inko’s company, happy to see Izuku happy. Eventually they’d thanked Inko and ushered themselves off into Izuku’s bedroom for a while before they went back to UA.

Izuku was pulling All Might merch and knick knacks out of every corner of the room, handing them to Katsuki along with stories and “do you remembers” and Katsuki felt overwhelmed. The feeling in his stomach only grew the longer the day went on and he found it harder and harder to keep the stupid, easy grin off his face. He felt so happy it almost felt wrong.

“Ah! kacchan! Do you remember when we drew these!”

They were two sheets of paper, one, in big letters, labeled “KACCHAN”, punctuated by tiny explosions in between each letter, and the other, “IZUKU” written neatly, simply across the top of the page. Underneath each name was a drawing to match, the both of them drawn in crayon as heroes, in gear that hadn’t quite matched up with what they’d grown accustomed to.

Katsuki took the papers from Izuku and stared, and stared, and stared, and only snapped out of it when a single tear drop hit the page.

And then it happened again. He spoke without meaning to.

“I don’t want to go back to the way we were before, Izuku. I-i don’t even care that we can’t spar anymore. I don’t care about that. I just-i wanna keep hanging out with you. I don’t care what what we do. I just-“ he was shaking, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He’d feared this conversation, so.. why did this feel like relief too?

Katsuki just let himself cry, tiny sobs crawling the way into their atmosphere.

He looked up through wet lashes just in time to see Izuku launch himself into his arms, throwing him back into the bed and burying his face into Katsuki’s neck, sobbing with all the intensity Katsuki felt in his soul.

“I wanna be with you too, Kachhan, always, always. I-i..just want-to be around you...”

Katsuki wraps his arms around Izuku and lets the relief wash over him. Katsuki doesn’t know what compelled him to say it.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Izuku pulls back just enough to look into Katsuki’s eyes. His heart is hammering in his chest, stunned speechless, and as Izuku searches Katsuki’s face he feels the boys breathing become panicked, coming out in short puffs verging on hyperventilation. Katsuki barely opens his mouth to take it back, to unscare Izuku when he seemingly realizes this and smashes their lips together in an effort to stop him.

It’s sudden, scared, mutual. Blissful.

It takes Katsuki all of two seconds to come back online and fit his hand into Izuku’s hair in an effort to keep him there, and returns the kiss in full. Izuku grunts out a little sound that seems pained but somehow matches that feeling in his own gut, swirling and verging on the side of too much too much too much

They break the kiss at the same time, leaping away from eachother and doubling over themselves, anxiously giggling against their will and breathing heavily. Izuku leaps to his feet and starts pacing, muttering all the while, energy buzzing within him with the same intensity as one-for-all and Katsuki feels it seep into everything, feels his limbs buzz, heart racing, mind running a mile a minute and somehow not at all.

“Ahhaah, AHHH, Kacch-i love you, FUCK I love you, holy-sh-shit, holy shit, oh my god. kachhhANNNN OH MY GOD.”

Izuku’s yelling and Katsuki finally yanks himself out of his shock to speak up just in time for Izuku to run out of the room screaming.

“Hey-what the FUCK, IZ-get back here!” And then he’s off the bed too and running out the door behind him, leaving a stunned and confused Inko sat on the couch.

.

.

.

Katsuki catches up to him already at the bus station, pacing circles around the bench, laughing and crying hysterically. He catches a glimpse of Katsuki right as he stalks up to him and grabs Izuku’s arm.

“Caught you.” He grins triumphantly, and so, so happy, and doesn’t even give Izuku the chance to respond before he captures the boys lips again.

Relief.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Waiting^

sorry this is shit, i am just sad and wrote this. the ending sucks, I know. might do a part 2

. . .

You were excited. Excited was a small word to describe what you were feeling. Thrilled, maybe? 

Today was you and Harry’s 6 month anniversary. And it’s not as big as it sounds, but it was for you. It was the longest relationship you’d been in, without getting your heart broken or thrown away. 

You were excited, and so was Harry. He woke you up with his raspy voice, and an overload of kisses, that made your cheeks turn red from the utter adoration you felt for him in that moment. You couldn’t believe your surroundings at that moment. Being so much in love, it almost hurt.

You both cuddled, till one of you had to break away so that you both could leave for work, or you would have ended up lying there till the afternoon or so.

He had a few interviews today, which he promised to finish up early, so that he could be there at the dot, pulling out the chair for you on your reserved table. At 8 pm.

And now, as you glanced at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 8:46 pm. No sign of Harry. No call, or even a text.

You felt sad, almost pathetic sitting there and waiting for him. He forgot. Of course he did. He was so busy even when on a break, and had a million things to attend to. A stupid 6-month anniversary dinner was not worth his time.

The waiter gave you an apologetic look as he asked you if you were still waiting or were going to order.

“I think I’ll leave. Thank you.”

You picked up your belongings, your phone and purse, and headed out into the chill air outside. You walked to your car, trying to hold your tears in, atleast till you were inside and had the windows pulled up.

He could’ve just said that he wouldn’t be able to make it, when you had first asked him. Could’ve just said no, instead of standing you up and making you suffer.  That would have hurt less.

The tears escaped from the chokehold you’d held them in, flowing through your makeup, and on your red dress, which you had brought specially for this occasion. You had saved up for a few months so you could buy an expensive one, to at least try and curb the difference of him wearing a thousand-dollar suit.

But, it all went down the drain.

You started driving, wiping off the never-stopping tears so you could focus on the road. As you reached the intersection, instead of turning for the road to your shared home, you turned for your old apartment.

It had grown old, and Harry had suggested that you move in somewhere else. You were packing up to do that, and then he asked you to move in with him. You happily agreed.

Maybe that was the issue. You were a pushover, or just an easy game in general. That was why nobody could stand you for even three months. 

Turning and parking into the parking complex, you searched for the keys and went upstairs. Opening the door with a bit of effort, you made your way in. It had gotten dirty, but was enough to atleast spend the night in. You would move somewhere else tomorrow.

Making your way to the bedroom, you didn’t even bother turning on the lights. Removing the expensive dress and leaving it on the floor, you jumped on the bed, pulling the sheets to cover yourself. 

Your crying had stopped, but you couldn’t stop the repulsive and self-loathing thoughts filling your head. He didn’t forget anything, till today. He even remembered the smallest of the small details, even your college grades. How could he forget this?

Was he done? And he didn’t want anything more to with you anymore? Maybe it was all your  fault. You were so talkative and expressive of everything you felt. He got tired and needed breaks. But your stupid self just couldn’t understand, could it?

You weren’t perfect too. You didn’t have a skinny body or long legs like the models he had dated. Didn’t have that beauty, or that money. But, you worked hard and made enough to take care of yourself without depending on your parents or him. Wasn’t that enough? 

Maybe that wasn’t for him. Maybe he wanted all he had before, before you. Maybe he wanted to try a mediocre girl before going back to the ones he really wanted to be with. Maybe you were just a rebound for him. 

It took a while for you to focus on the sound ringing thoughout your room. It was your phone. A call from Harry.

“Hello”

“Hi” your voice sounded raspy, your throat swollen from all the crying.

“Love, I know I’m super late and I’m really fucking sorry. I just went for a few drinks with the guys and lost track of time. Are you near the restaurant? I’m halfway there-”

“You couldn’t call? Or even text?”

“Sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, it’s just, tha’ I-I completely forgot.” He was swearing a lot, something he did when he was drunk.

“You forgot? After I had been telling you for almost a month. I reminded you in the morning? And why are you driving after drinking? Are you insane?”

“Look, I’m really sorry. I know I messed up. Are you still near the place?”

“No, Harry! I’m not. It’s almost 10 now. The reservation was for 8 pm. And stop talking on the phone while drunk driving. Someone else couldn’t have dropped you?”

“Everyone was drunk, and I left without telling them. Will you just tell me where you are?”

“No, I won’t. Just turn around and go home. It’s just 5 minutes away. Don’t bother about me.”

“What? Why? Look, the signal is on. Just tell me. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Go home!”

“Why are you bein so mean?”

“Bye, Harry”

. . .

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl

dm, or send an ask if you want to be added!

[suguru-getos]

|| octaves part -1 | gojo satoru x geto suguru x f!reader ||

summary: being suguru’s s/o, you were in agony with the news of his death, and satoru had only one mission in his head, heeding the last words of his best friend and saving you from being broken

warnings: lots of angst, this series will have sm angst and dark themes, comfort, etc.

a/n: i just want to bleed thru my words for stsg else i cant cope up with how my heart breaks for them😭 lmk if you wanna be tagged for part two !!

the skies felt drenched with the heaviness of the grief you carried in your heart. you dragged yourselves out of the bed, footsteps dragging against the wooden floor as you strided towards the balcony, glossy eyed and gazing up at the sky. the only sight in your head was suguru’s smile. he looked so tender, as if he was made of glass. breakable at the slightest touch; whenever he was being himself. a lonely rain drop fell on your cheek, and before you could envelop your senses for anything more, you were drenched. your tears mingling with the rain, masking your choking grief and misery.

suguru geto was no more…

the man who killed his parents, just because they were non-sorcerers, couldn’t bring himself to kill you. he thought the immense cursed energy you had within yourself could be controlled, could be— moulded into something that’s supreme. suguru refused to see you as a filthy monkey, even though. that’s just what you felt you were. yes? you could see cursed energies, but you were no sorcerer. sometimes you wonder if the man who so tenderly cherished you would’ve slayed you just because he hated you for not being one of his kind.

“let’s curse each other.” is what he had said to gojo satoru, and still— he didn’t let you enter the battle. himiko and nanako opened the door to your room. locked by suguru and hugged you till they passed out crying; telling you suguru was no more. you had no words, no emotions to explain the tightness in your chest, your head haunting with the daunting fact of suguru’s absence which will linger forever.

you didn’t really agree with what suguru wanted, you knew in the end; he just wanted the suffering to end. he didn’t want his comrades to be gory dead bodies. suguru cared, suguru cared oh so much that it took him his heart. you didn’t mind that. you were broken just like him, suguru accepted you as it is. only fair you did too… even if; it was… unacceptable. besides, you thought you could change his unhinged ideals. typical case of, ‘i can fix him’, while he continued getting worse.

suguru never wore his kimono/monk dress with you, with you he was— suguru. smiling softly, wearing clothes that scented like him, that scented like home. the way he’d smile and grin whenever you’d kiss him on the cheek, whenever you’d kiss his forehead and tell him he’s beautiful. whenever you’d pout over his hair being longer than yours… suguru geto was an exquisite man, and now you were bearing the consequences for loving him with all your being.

it was like your heart was slowly forked out, carved out of your chest with the pain, you wanted to scream out until your throat burns and you wanted to kill yourself… you didn’t want to live in a world without suguru geto.

“y/n san.” himeko called out, shaking your tranced form in the bathing rain. dragging you inside and wrapping a blanket against you. you still remembered them as little girls, dazed eyes and shaky hands wrapping and cupping her face as a pathetic chuckle escaped you. tears drenching your face. “himeko chan, where’s suguru?” part of you knew the answer to it, yet asked the same question. refusing to believe it.

“geto san-” himeko teared up, leaning her forehead against your knee. “please, y/n san. please.” she silently babbled, begging you to not ask that again. you were his family and he was yours. right now, all you felt was intolerable grief.

“make it stop.” you mumbled, eyes strained from the lack of blinking due to your haze. “himeko chan, leave me alone.” your words didn’t seem like a suggestion, it was an order. the girls knew better than to respect you, especially in a time like this. when you were shattered, broken, unmendable.

himeko got up, looking at you and wiping her tears. you wanted to be there for them, for everyone. but you wanted to be selfish as well. you wanted to destroy the world, you wanted to destroy yourself, you wanted to destroy every single thing in this world. the next thing you heard was her footsteps, fading away from you as you sunk down the couch.

there was a pin drop silence, until you could hear the second hand of the clock tick with every moment. everything started to seem overwhelming at that point, suguru’s smile engaging with your grieving soul. his warm hugs, the intimacy of feeling him inside you.

a shrill scream echoed, tearing through the deafening silence of the room. it was you, horrified with everything. you screamed until you couldn’t anymore, until your silent tears turned into wails, broken sobs and panicked breathlessness. “come back, come back, come back please please pl-”

meanwhile, the man who stood outside your door, satoru gojo. hearing everything and also sharing your pain as tears spilled from his baby-blue eyes, remembered the last conversation he had with his best friend, the only one he had.

“any last words.”

“… no matter what, i fucking hate those monkeys”

“suguru…”

“satoru… promise me. you will take care of y/n. i deliberetely kept her away from everything- from,” a weak chuckle escapes suguru, causing him to cough out blood. “from who i am as a whole, just so she is redeemable if i am not here. that’s my last word to you. neh? satoru. promise me.”

[sophiethewitch1]

G & T for Dick please? Congrats on 1k!

Warnings: SFW, gen yandere behaviour, suicide mention, dick's kind of pathetic lmfao, I don't know what a paragraph break is <3

-

G = Game (Is Every Move Meticulously Orchestrated, Turning the Pursuit Into a Twisted Game? Do They Derive Pleasure From Watching Their Darling Attempt Escape?):

Dick: One thing you have to get about Dick is that he takes everything with you very seriously. Like, obviously he’s joking around (the sight of your laughing face is etched into his brain with a hammer) but he considers your relationship very important, that it requires a lot of care. He doesn’t think it’s a game. He doesn’t think you’re a game. But, he does probably… definitely puts too much thought into your every little interaction. He’s a thinker. He’s always going over your interactions, wondering if you would’ve found A) joke funnier or if B) joke was the way to go. He chooses when to flirt, when to push, when to pull back when it’s needed too. And it’s all subconscious. He’s not even really aware that he thinks of your relationship the same way he thinks about missions, about fights. And also, he finds the idea of wanting to ‘escape’ him heart-wrenching. He’s desperate to be seen in a good light by you, desperate to be likable, lovable. And you disliked him so much you ran away? He probably tries to stay away after you do. He manages for a little while until he eventually appears on your doorstep begging you to take him back. And if you say no, he only gets more desperate. This is about where you see Dick go fully mad trying to appease you. Where you’ll see himself throw himself at you again and again, trying to see what sticks. He really will just keep trying. About till he drops dead from his own unbearable yearning, cause he’s dramatic like that.

T = Tears (Does the Sight of Their Darling's Suffering Evoke a Twisted Pleasure, a Morbid Satisfaction Reinforcing Their Control?):

Dick: Oh, you’re crying. Oh. You. Are. Crying. Instant breakdown. This is literally his worst nightmare. He wants you happy, and unless your tears are from joy or pleasure, he will probably actually kill himself. No, no, he’ll just want to do it really bad, but he has to make it up to you. Right then and there, through his own tears, he’s asking how he can fix it, what he needs to do to make it up to you. Now if you told him to kill himself, he’d probably do it then. Absolutely anything to make sure you’re smiling again. If you are kind enough not to immediately ask him to commit honourable suicide, he will spend the rest of his life making it up to you. Anytime you want anything from him, even hinting at the time you cried has him ready to go to the ends of earth for you again. Just, god, please don’t start crying again. He thinks he’ll have a heart attack. He also thinks he’d deserve it, though.

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE CEDRIC DIGGORY HEADCANONS

Cedric as a yandere would be delusional, soft, clingy, protective and obsessive over the love of his life aka. you. He would always spend time with you no matter what and even if his schedule is packed as hell, he'll still find some time to make for you. For him, not seeing you at least 5 times a day is equivalent to him not breathing. And he won't be able to sleep till he doesn't strike up at least one conversation with you after every class is finished lol

He's polite, charming, handsome and you'd actually be lucky to have this goody two shoes here as a yandere for you. He never wants to see you sad or upset or even have tears in those wonderful eyes of yours for that matter. If you're upset and crying about something it just breaks his heart and he'll start hating himself since he couldn't do anything to protect you and you're suffering because of him. But beware once he does find out the reason as to why you're crying though, I can't see him ACTUALLY murdering someone but he'll put them under the Imperius curse and make them say sorry to you, even if it's Malfoy

The worst this goody two shoes here can do is go as far as manipulation that's it. And using the Imperius curse, but other than that he's not insanely possessive over you when someone talks to you like some other yanderes I know (I'm looking at you ferret boy)

He's also a BIG TIME worshipper for you, he literally worships the ground you walk on. He thinks you're a literal divine angel sent from the heavens above to bless him and grace him with your wonderful presence. You're perfection in his eyes, he can't help but want you all for himself. Of course, he'll understand why other people could also be infatuated with you, you're amazing and so...precious. He literally radiates softness, warmth and love when he's around you, lol I make him sound like the male version of Cupid

As much as he won't ever do anything without your consent, he loves holding your hands, an indication and signal for everyone out there to know that you belong to him and only him, no one else, loves hugging and cuddling with you and will also kiss your hand like a true and fine gentleman. And if you initiate any signs of physical affection with him, he'll feel like he's died and gone to heaven and he'll feel so flustered yet happy at the same time, his heart about to burst from his chest. His darling has finally responded to his love, and now it's time for him to take the next step

Now, he has the idea of asking you out planned very carefully. In case you guys forgot, let me remind you that he's the Golden boy of the Hufflepuff house. Meaning his house is willing to do whatever they can to make him happy and content even if it means getting Cedric closer to you and asking you out no matter which house you're in. I guess you could also say that they might also come off as platonic yanderes for you too since they're going to be helping Cedric planning on how to ask you out. Now, he'll ask you out in a public setting with people around and fancy and nice decorations and stuff like that so you won't be able to reject him. Yep, under that innocent good boy personality of his lies a dark manipulative personality of his

Though he might never hurt you he'll turn out to be a bit scary after a while and sooner or later, he's going to get paranoid about your safety. He's also a paranoid yandere, worrying about your safety constantly and he'll kidnap you faster than you can say 'Merlin's pants'. He can't bring himself to punish you at all, he's too soft with you but don't take his kindness for granted else he'll slip Amorentia in your food/ drink or put you under the Imperius Curse to be in love with him. He'll make sure to spoil you with his love and affection forever and ever and ever till time ends...

[captain039]

PART 5 He’s Grumpy, I’m sunshine

Alpha!Logan x omega!reader

Warnings: AOB, age gap (legal), light swearing, grumpy/sunshine, anxiety, mental health issues, intimacy, violence, torture, plus size reader, medication usage for anxiety, depression and sleeping, heat pills, scent blockers

Set at Charles school

Your mutation: fire creation and control

Previous part <-

“Hey, hey-“ Logan snarls seeing a small needling in your neck. He holds you up with a growl leaving his lips as he lets his claws extend, eyes tracking the tree line. He can hear footsteps, soft mumbling till something hits his neck. He snarls again carry’s your body over to the car and lays you in the seat before he’s charging to the tree line across the road. There’s three more shots in his chest which he just pulls out before more join. Something hits him though it’s stronger a lot stronger than whatever the hell is in those tiny syringes and he feels his body failing as he takes down two men in black camo suits. He feels slowed and his body slowly crashed to the ground as he hears shouting.

He’s in and out of consciousness somethings keeping him changed down, there’s flashes of faces and different scents he doesn’t know.

You feel wet when you awaken, groaning in discomfort before you open your eyes and look at your surroundings. You jolt seeing nothing but four steal walls with a security door and one light. You panic quickly hands jingling as you glance to the wall you’re leaning against. There’s cuffs around your wrists pinned to the ceiling. You begin to shake and feel like you’re gonna be sick till to you take a small breath. You breathe deeply bringing your flames to surface, you look to the chains but they’re not even getting red or hot.

“They won’t break” a woman’s voice calls out and you stop. You sigh body back to normal noticing you’re not in your dress either.

“Figured you’d do that so I changed you into a fireproof suit” the woman’s voice says and you gulp a bit.

“Oh and the others awake” you frown hearing a low grunt and growl from behind you.

“Logan!” You call turning your head seeing the wall transparent between you both. Logan snarls claws extending as he fights against the restraints.

“Logan” you call again and his head snaps to the side. You can’t turn around far with these chains.

“You ok?” He growls out and you nod.

“I’m ok” you say and he grunts in response. You try to breathe slowly despite how you’re feeling and the situation. You hear a beep outside your door and it hisses open showing three people in black suits, faces covered. Your cuffs unlock but you feel weak as you fall to the floor. The men grab you and you fight engulfing in flames but it does nothing as they inject you with something that stops them. You hear Logan yelling and growling before you’re dragged out and put on a what seems to be a hospital bed. You groan at the flashing lights over head, doors opening and closing and chatter. You finally stop in a larger room, too weak to lift your head so you roll it to the side. It looks like some underground hospital, tools on the small wheeled steel benches and blue curtains hung up.

“What are you doing?” You groan as people move and hustle around you.

“Just need some things from you flame girl” the woman’s voice calls out this time not over a PA.

“Who are you?” You mutter.

“Someone who’s carrying on a legacy” she says as your eyes droop. You drop in and out of consciousness, feel things prick your skin. You cry out sometimes when a needle goes into your back sometimes your neck, sides. Whatever they’re doing you don’t want to be awake.

You awake again feeling woozy and sick, you want to throw up but have no energy.

“Obey! Or she will suffer” you hear then a snarl and mutter a soft ‘Logan’ afterwards. Your body’s hotter than usual sweat drenching your clothes and body, your mouth feels dry and your lips feel cracked. You haven’t been here long have you? You hear a cry beside you a woman’s you think, another omega by her scent.

“Ok?” You slur as she stops her noises.

“You ok?” You manage looking around seeing IV’s hung by you.

“No” you hear weakly and figure she’s in the same position as you. You weakly tell her your name as you feel acid in your throat and groan.

“Lacey” she says back softly before you hear footsteps.

“The genes are mending together well” you hear and frown.

“Good, continue” you recognise the woman’s voice as your curtains pulled back and you see her. She’s tall in a black tailored suit that looks expensive, her hairs cut to her shoulders and straight, her eyes a bright green.

“Welcome back” she smiles fresh white straight teeth on display.

“Where’s Logan?” You say trying to bring your flames out.

“Sorry won’t be able to see him for a while, really the animal damn, anyway we’ve got some more tests, have fun!” She grins, waves and leaves as more doctors join. You whimper as the doctor injects something through your IV and your vision blackens.

You awake with a small jolt not feeling a bed under you but a cold floor. You groan softly feeling your muscles ache, hell your skeleton hurts.

“Logan?” You call but get no response. You lay there for a while feeling no urge to move or get up. You see fire on the tips of your finger tips and figure whatever the hell they drugged you with is wearing off. You just watch absentmindedly as the flames dance across your skin down your hand and arm. Your whole body is covered soon as you lay there. You feel in some state of a drug high you guess. Your body grows hotter and hotter though, you feel your skin burning and frown as your flames go hotter and burn brighter. You begin to scream trying to turn them off but feeling as alarms flare and your door opens. Somethings shot into your neck and you go limp, flames residing as you whimper and look at your burnt skin. It’s bright red with some blisters as you try not to move too much.

You’re taken back out on a hospital bed and in and out of consciousness once more as they inject more things into you before you’re in the room again. Your skin is less red now, the healing blisters looking disgusting. You whimper and cry you want Logan, you have no idea where he is.

When your body engulfs in flames again it leaves you sobbing in pain and you’re taken out once more and injected some more. The cycle repeats too many times, your body now heals on its own quicker than before but your flames still hurt. You feel in a loop, back to the table, back to the room, agonising pain, quick healing. You can’t keep up, your body can’t keep up you feel it deteriorating with each conscious wake. You want your alpha, you want Logan, you want to tell Logan that he’s your alpha even if he doesn’t like it. You want to be safe in your room with him. They’ve done something to your omega biology too, anti-heat no doubt at a high dose from how shitty it’s making you feel.

You’re in the room again when alarms blare and your ears hurt. You whine cover your ears as something tears through your door. Your names called and relief floods you as Logan lifts you from the floor. You sob clutching to him, holding him tightly as you hide your face in his neck.

“Shhh, I’ve got you sweetheart, I’ve got you, we’re getting the fuck out of here” he says and you nod. He’s strong, he lifts you and cradles you close as you head yelling and alarms

“Charles where the hell am I going!” Logan yells and you feel more relief. Logan winds through a maze of a place as you try to cover your ears from the sounds.

“I know, I know where almost there bub” Logan mutters. You feel fresh light on your skin and wince closing your eyes and curling yourself more against Logan.

“They experimented on her somethings wrong” Logan snarls as you see shade against your closed eyelids. You open your eyes seeing the jet, Charles, Jean, Scott, beast and Storm. You cry softly, body so exhausted.

“Logan lay her down” Jean says but Logan snarls at the other alpha. The jet seats aren’t exactly made for two person sitting but Logan keeps you against his chest, your knees by his hips your arms dead between you both.

“You’re ok sweetheart” Logan whispers against your hair as you can’t stop your tears. You feel bad for sitting on him, but you can’t physically move. Your eyes are hazy, staring at nothing your cheek pressed against Logan’s chest. You see tiny flames on your arm and panic rises instantly. Logan hush’s you hand rubbing up and down your back but you scramble to get off him, falling on the floor.

“No, omega, hey” Logan says but you cry at him seeing your flames worsen.

“C-Charles” you beg seeing him across from you.

“Please!” You cry as he presses his fingers to his head and your body calms. You sob now on the floor of the plane a worried Logan kneel by you.

“Hey, I need you to look at me” Logan says to you but you shake your head.

“Omega!” It’s a command and you look to him with blurry eyes.

“You’re safe” he says his alpha tone running through your body.

“We’re going home” he whispers.

Next part ->

Taglist:

@beanhardy

@gimmethatdilf

[bidisasterevankinard]

Tease tidbit Tuesaday

I remembered how my youngest nephew were suffering from teething since he was 2 months so I decided to put it in a fic with bucktommy and platonic buddie and their baby :

Both dads look at each other’s red wet eyes with lost and scared faces.

Tommy decides to intervene and help. His family definitely needs some new composed person to let them rest and calm down.

“Can I see her first? Maybe I can find a way to calm her?” Tommy holds his hands to Izi, carefully, getting closer to Evan, who looks at Eddie.

Eddie erratically nods, “we are tired as hell and anxious so hard I’m hyperventilating. Tommy is at least calm and it can help her.”

Evan nods too and weakly smiles at him, but it barely touches his blue tired and red from tears eyes. His boyfriend passes his daughter to him and Izi looks at him with tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. Tommy’s heart breaks. Especially when after some silent seconds she starts crying again. 

Her face is red and she’s warmer than Tommy would like to so he decides to check one thing he knows not many people expect their baby would suffer from at such a young age. So it is possible Evan and Eddie weren't thinking to do it.

Tommy puts his finger in her mouth, carefully touching her gums and cooing at his sweet baby when he feels how warm and swollen they are.

“Oh, my sweet princess, I’m so sorry,” he continues stroking her gums, allowing the baby to gnaw his finger with toothless gums. Her crying subsides more and more till it just little hiccups and some little happy noises.

“Yeah, how I thought, she's teething,” he says to two blinking and smiling at him, as if he’s God himself, men.

“Tommy, I can kiss you right now,” Eddie says and comes to him, smiling at his daughter who carefully smiles at him too, but keeps munching on his finger. “Platonically!!! Absolutely platonically,” he adds to Evan, smirking at his friend.

Evan just shakes his hand exasperatedly at him, frowning when he gets to him, hugging him behind, leaving a little kiss on his neck and flipping Eddie off.

It makes him and Eddie laugh, but not Evan. 

“But-but she's only two months old. Why is she teething so early?”

I was tagged by @diazsdimples @hippolotamus 💙

NP tagging @queerbuck @queerdiaz @wikiangela @bewilderedbuckley @devirnis @watchyourbuck @repressedqueen @rainbow-nerdss @racerchix21 @theotherbuckley @epiphainie @ebdaydreamer @evnnkinard @evansboyfriend @evanbi-ckley @eddiestummy @eddiestommy @underwaterninja13 @kinard-buckley @lavenderleahy @loveyouanyway @lonelychicago @pirrusstuff @aspecbuddie @saybiwithme @shortsighted-owl @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazheartsbuckley @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @cal-daisies-and-briars @buckera @bigfootsmom @bi-buckrights @bekkachaos and anyone who wants to

[formulapookie]

rosquez for on a scar pls<3

20. on a scar

Marc is tracing a pattern between all the moles on Vale’s chest, head resting on the older’s arm as he strokes his hair.

This is one of the moments Marc prefers in their newfound routine. The domestic feeling of belonging somewhere that’s not a place per se, but the arms of someone you love so dearly, like Marc loves Vale.

Vale is home to him as much as he is home to Vale.

It’s enough to look one of the two in the eyes while he’s watching the other do anything.

It’s pure love.

Vale watching Marc pace around the house? Love Marc watching Vale cook? Love Vale watching Marc getting ready to go train? Love Marc watching Vale while he explains to him all the different kinds of wines he has in his cellar? Love

Vale is looking at Marc right now, and he wants nothing more than to hug him tight and never let him go again.

He’s divine, perfect body, out of this world face, amazing personality and that god forsaken smile that never fails to brighten up Vale’s days.

Vale’s eyes lock on that scar, one of too many, the one which had Marc almost stop racing, the one he got back in 2020, when he was so high on painkillers and antibiotics he hallucinated Vale being with him, in Cervera, holding him at night when the pain was too much.

Vale hates it.

Not the scar as a thing, but what it means.

They weren’t speaking back then, not even a greeting.

Not even “hello” if they met in the hallways of some hotel they were both in.

And when Marc had gotten injured, and declared he was going to miss the season because he had to get surgery, and because his arm hurt too much and had to undergo rehabilitation Vale hadn't called.

Or texted. Or sent anything to say “I’m sorry you’re going through that, as a rider I know how awful that must be”

Nothing. Complete Radio silence.

The scar reminds him of what he had managed to get of those years, 2020 especially, when he wasn’t there.

Marc didn’t like to talk about it, he hid his scar for the majority of times, either with sleeves or bandages or simply sitting, standing or laying making sure to cover it.

But Alex did.

He told Vale everything, how awful he was for letting his brother suffer alone, calling for him during the night, blindly reaching out to someone who wasn't there, who was probably at some club getting shitfaced with his friends, who was probably making fun of him.

He had told him how Marc, in his less lucid moments, thought Vale was really there, and he would find his brother hugging a pillow, sleeping while hugging it tightly and sometimes telling Alex not to yell because he would’ve woken Vale up.

Vale’s fingers find their place tracing the outline of the scar, slowly, feather-like touches.

Marc tenses up, his hand not moving anymore.

Vale leans down tentatively, slowly, he doesn’t want to do something that will drive Marc away.

But Marc lets him, waits to see what will happen.

He presses a light kiss on the boy’s scar, then locks gazes with him.

There’s tears in Marc’s eyes, while he looks at Vale, because the scar is something they never talk about.

Vale just knows that if Marc is hurting 90% of the time it’s that arm.

“You’re beautiful, every part of you is, even the ones you don’t like, they’re perfect”

Marc can’t keep the tears in anymore, he just breaks down in Vale’s arms, sobbing loudly as Vale hold him tighter than ever before.

It’s not often he sees Marc crying like this: real, deep, hurt.

The last time he had seen him like that was after Sepang, when Vale had doubted Marc ever being a fan of his and had called him other names too.

That night, when Vale was in his hotel room with a bunch of the Yamaha crew and some friends Marc had gone to him, lips red and patchy from Marc obviously biting them till they bled, fingernails bitten and the area surrounding them coloured of a bitter red.

He was standing in front of him, a sad face on, looking up at the man who was supposed to be the love of his life.

“Can we talk Vale please?”

“What do you - CUT IT FOR A MINUTE GUYS MARQUEZ CAME HERE - what do you want?”

Vale remembers his crew getting up from wherever they were sitting and going to the door to see how destroyed that kid looked.

“Can we talk like - without all these people?”

Marc was hurt, Vale could fucking see that, could feel the desperation coming from him.

“Talk or I’m shutting the door Marquez”

“I - why did you say that? About me, my room with your poster - you know they are there. You’ve been to mine you saw them”

Marc had looked for confirmation in Vale’s eyes, but had only found hatred and sick fun.

“If I was ever in your house it was in your wet dreams Marquez, surely I never set foot there”

And he laughed. Alongside with all the others.

Marc had stood there, heart caught in his throat, feeling laughs like daggers in every part of his body.

And he had cried, hot tears streaming down his face as he tried to walk away, shame surrounding him like a cloud.

Marc feels like that right now, ashamed weak, stupid.

Because he hates crying, much more so doing it in front of the man he loves.

And Vale is just holding him, cuddling him and stroking his back lulling him to make him calm down.

“I love you Marc, I love all of you, I always will”

He kisses the scar again, this time it calms the sobs down, Marc hiding his head more in the crook of Vale’s neck, waiting for him to finish.

“I love you too” Vale is happy, happy Marc is as well, because he deserves happiness more than anything right now.

Marc manages to fall asleep in his home, Vale’s arms, and slowly gets Vale back into his comfort zone.

“I am so sorry baby, so so sorry I wasn’t there”

A cut sob comes from Vale.

“But I promise I’m not letting go of you anymore, I want to bring you to the altar”

A third kiss on the scar, softer this time, like a peck, like a butterfly just rested her tired body on Marc’s scar, giving him a little relief.

Semd me a Ship name and a Number and I’ll write a kiss

[angieblogging]

Fight and Forgive.

characters: Spencer Reid, Reader/You

relationship: Spencer Reid/Reader (romantic or/and platonic)

description: Reader is laying alone in bed, tired after fighting with Spencer, soon enough he comes into the room and is their comforter.

other tags: no use of Y/N, gn!reader, established relationship (not specified if it was romantic or platonic.) Anxiety, Anxious and Overthinking Reader

read on ao3!

It was dark and late, it was summer so it took a moment for the sun to fully set and the moon to shine, you could see stars through the window, it was a beautiful night, which you were spending all alone.

Spencer as usual wasn’t back till’ late hours, it was eating you up alive. You couldn’t bear it anymore, you loved him, truly, but all this separation, his recent visit in the hospital…

He called it “risks that come with the job”.

You called it “bullshit”.

Both of you said a lot, that happened each time you held back, silently suffering, feeling as if your feelings, your pain was just not worth it, it’s not like anything could and would change.

You were covered with a fluffy blanket, you had nowhere else to go, really. Spencer didn’t say much, just stayed in the living room, two hours have passed, yet the light still shined through the crack under the door, so he obviously was awake. You simply returned to the bedroom, where you could freely sob, still you tried to be silent, the pillow was wet from the tears however it would dry by the morning, so nothing would look suspicious.

Spencer kept risking his life and the stress of losing him was not something you wanted to go through. You loved him, he loved you, but he also loved his job, his coworkers, sometimes it felt like he loved them more then you. No matter what he said or would do — it couldn’t bring back the time you lost with him, because of the BAU or the sleepless nights when you’re anxiety was horrible, not allowing you to sleep, because he hasn’t returned yet. It was his job, but it had a firm grip on both his and your mental state.

Soon enough you had no tears left to cry, so you laid on the empty, king-sized bed, just spiralling with no intention to stop. Not only you needed to figure out what to tell Spence, you also punished yourself that way, the overthinking mainly resulted in painful headaches, but you just couldn’t stop, I mean this whole fight was your fault anyways…

That’s when your head turned towards the door when you heard it click, he was standing there, his hair messy, letting in the light from the living room, which made you squint your eyes. He moved into the room, switching the lights of the living room off and shutting the door behind himself.

“Hey…” His voice was raspy, he stood over the bed just looking at you, you glanced at him, but chose to focus somewhere else.

You cried and fought, still you could feel the rage and sadness inside of your chest, bubbling up.

“What do you want?” You were straight forward, with no intention to start a conversation, you didn’t want to fight anymore, you couldn’t handle it, you were simply exhausted.

“I- Can we talk…Please?” He hesitated, he knew you too well, well enough to ask, knowing you don’t have the heart to turn him down.

“Spence…Can we do this tomorrow?” You furrowed your brows as he sat on the bed and sighed, that’s when it hit you, he was not going to be here tomorrow. “Oh…” The sound left your mouth as it hit you, like a slap across your face.

“I’m sorry…But it’s…The BAU—“ He didn’t got a chance to finish, you didn’t let him.

“No more of that…” The whine left your mouth as your palms rubbed your face in a poor attempt to stop yourself from bursting out crying. “I’m sick of listening to that, Spencer.” Your voice was stern, you felt so fragile, like anything he says might break you.

He simply nodded as the two of you sat in silence for a moment. You looked at him more carefully now and without a doubt he was doing the same, but only one of you was a profiler.

His eyes were slightly red, his lips chapped and under his eyes you could see eye bags, he obviously wasn’t asleep in awhile.

“Lay down.” You spoke more softly, moving slightly to make him more space. “You need to sleep, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“Sleep.” Spencer simply repeated the word and laid down awkwardly next to you. You could blame him, one moment you’re throwing a tantrum and the other you two are back in bed.

He glanced at you, the silence was loud, the only noise came from the streets and the cars passing every now and then. It was your fault, so you initiated contact, your body moved towards him, closing the distance between you two. Soon enough his hands traveled to your waist and your head to the crook of his neck. Both of you said nothing, just kept calm and enjoyed each other’s warmth.

“You know I love you…I do…” He whispered softly, his breath send a shiver down your spine. “I love coming home and seeing your face and I love spending the holidays with you and every other free moment I have…” He continued as his hand slowly rubbed your back.

“I know…I—“ You whispered back gently, holding back tears.

“It’s okay…I understand.” He whispered back and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, before the two of you drifted to sleep.

[strrykais]

die with a smile

a hwang hyunjin short story

week one

he couldn’t hear the doctor with the buzzing in his ears. he refused to believe it. he was sick. the doctor said cancer. no he felt fine. there was no way he could be sick. the light shaking of his shoulder brought him out of the little daze he was in. 

“hyunjin are you okay? did you hear the doctor.” his friend said. 

the tears in his eyes started to fog up his vision, slowly tumbling out his eyes. the doctor in front of him, pulls out tissues softly handing them to the crying boy.

”i understand this news can be very hard to take in, we are lucky that we were able to catch it in it’s earlier stages. if you don't mind we would like to have you stay here for some testing.” the doctors voice did nothing to help the breaking heart of his. he should be happy they caught it because if it was too late, he didn’t even want to think of that. 

hyunjin nods, his friend patting him on the back saying its going to be okay and that he is in good hands.

a soft knock on the door followed by a girls head poking in with a bright smile. “good afternoon doctor kim. is this the new impatient?” the girl turns her head from the doctor to stare at him. hyunjin felt awkward, his face was tearfilled and you gave him a bright smile. 

“hi yn. yes this is hyunjin, he will be staying here for a while, and how did you come by this news?” the doctor says placing the charts down on his desk. 

“word travels fast; we don't really get many inpatient's anymore. can i walk him?” hyunjin finally looked away at the girl in the doctor's coat leaning fully on the door frame. 

“yn this isnt your job, how many times do i have to sa-“ 

“i know, ill just walk him to nurse lee. im heading that way anyways.” you say practically begging. hyunjin couldn’t understand why you was so eager to walk him to his ending doom. some people love to see others suffer or something.

the doctor sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. you smile walking further in to grab the charts only for the doctor to slam his hand over top of them.

”nice try kid. hyunjin this is yn she will be leading you to the care unit. please just ignore anything she says. she likes to talk alot. also if i can speak to your friend for a little and then i can send him your way.” hyunjin nods, following you out the door. 

the hospital smell was sickening, hyunjin couldn’t get his mind off the devastating news. trying to distract himself, hyunjin watches yn. the little skip in your step, the doctor's coat that seemed a little too big for you. he watched how you interacted with the other doctors laughing or with other patients like himself. It made him sick. there was no reason for someone to be happy in this moment. 

you stopped in front of the nurses station talking to someone. she waves over to him, he slowly takes steps till he standing right next to your smaller form. 

“this is nurse lee they will be taking care of you from now on. trust me you are in gentle hands.” you say bye waving to him and the nurses at the station. hyunjins eyes continue to follow you till you round a corner no longer in sight. the nurse in front of him called him out, then showed him to his room.

masterlist | next

tags : @hannamoon143 @jellyleggz @tajannah-price1 @skzfelixlove

[koolaidoverliving]

random candymaker rant

these two live in my head rent free... they are straight (gay) chaos. both of them are highkey insane so their relationship matches that.

they've known each other for ten years, or more. candy pop and the toymaker have a mutual understanding of each others' powers. they acknowledge each other as "equals" and though they had a rivalry in the beginning parts of their relationship, that fell apart. candy pop was more than overwhelming with his traps and tricks. it became a one-sided thing that jason has to suffer from. 

their first encounter involved jason fixing candy pop's hammer. only pierrot had been able to fix it in the past, so candy pop was impressed. unfortunately, jason's arrogant personality pissed off candy pop. he tried to kill him the moment he got his hammer back.

despite this, they have some friendly ties to each other. they're frenemies!!! candy pop always celebrates jason's birthday. even when jason doesn't ask for a celebration, candy pop still brings 1-2 people and a cake. also, candy pop doesn't have a birthday of his own. so when jason asked for candy pop's birthday, he didn't have an answer. for that reason, jason made up a date for him. candy pop forgot about it a few minutes later, but jason remembered it. sooo thanks to the toymaker, candy pop's birthday is july 12th. 

candy pop refers to jason as his personal chef. jason buys him food, makes him food, teaches him how to make food. it was super cute at first but now jason wants to fucking kill himself. why can't this jester just learn how to FUCKING COOK. it doesn't help that jason's the only one with an actual job so he has to pay for basically everything. 

jason overworks himself all the time so candy pop runs errands for him. just so he doesn't fall over and die from something that isn't his hammer. "nothing is allowed to kill you except for me!" candy pop also tries to make jason some food but it goes so terribly wrong. he just gives jason some candy instead. jason does NOT thank him. this shit is the bare minimum. candy pop is constantly trying to get the toymaker to do things other than work in his workshop all day.

candy pop sets up traps to "catch" the toymaker. they rarely work. the one time it did work, the toymaker was so disappointed in himself he had to drink ten bottles of wine just to forget about it. the toymaker barricades his door so candy pop doesn't enter his workshop, but candy pop finds a way in no matter what. whether it's climbing in through the window or digging in from the floor, he will find a way in.

jason finds candy pop's crying to be really fucking annoying (or funny, it depends). candy pop cries a LOT. he has such terrible mood swings. he's like a girl on her period. but jason is one of the two people candy pop goes to when he's upset (the other being nathan), so jason has to deal with it. candy pop just bugs him till he breaks down. and now they're BOTH on the verge of tears! HOORAY!!! 

when candy pop has a genuinely good reason to be sad, jason will give him ice cream and tell him to sit in a corner while he works. if that doesn't work, he shows him some cool magic tricks. speaking of magic tricks, candy pop is always amazed by them. no matter how basic they are. candy pop's magic tricks are NOT as good as jason the toymaker's. 

the way the care for each other is really confusing. candy pop acknowledges that jason's a manipulative piece of shit dickhead and jason acknowledges that candy pop's a disrespectful loudmouth freak... but at the same time, they work together pretty efficiently... which is saying a lot because they both hate working with people.

smaller headcanons that i will not elaborate on unless asked

candy pop and the toymaker gang up on the puppeteer, taking turns calling him poor and homeless. usually happens when they're drunk.

jason only uses handmirrors due to candy pop's fear of mirrors.

jason loves his reflection though he'll always stop in front of store-windows just to see himself. 

candy pop is one of the only ones to see jason's true form. this is simply because he's pissed jason off so much.

jason the toymaker probably thought candy pop was a girl when they first met. he was another victim to the feminine jester.

rivals... with benefits. it's not gay if he looks like a woman

jason throws out all the "birthday shirts" candy pop gives to him. he does NOT want 10 shirts with candy pop's face on it.

jason is a famous and popular toymaker. candy pop is an unemployed homeless man who tries to ruin his career by posting ads calling him a misogynist and an abuser.

candy pop spreads the worst rumors about jason. it's actually crazy. 

there are too many people out there who think candy pop is jason's son. and another group of people who think candy pop and jason HAVE a son. 

THE TOYMAKER IS A WOOD EATER. HE EATS WOOD. CHEWS ON WOOD. EATS SAWDUST. 

jason had to make an entire new email and hide it from candy pop because he kept enlisting jason into the US army.

list of candy pop's names for the toymaker

jason

jas

jacey

toyboy

the toymaker

toymaker

the

redhead

favourite redhead

leprechaun

jason t. toymaker

misogynist

whiny bitch

annoying narcissistic asshole

list of the toymaker's names for candy pop

candy

GET OUT OF MY WORKSHOP

LEAVE

PLEASE 

HOW DID YOU GET PAST THE BARRICADES

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS

I AM GOING TO KILL YOU

[devine-fem]

(D+J) The Valentine's Day I’ve been thinking about.

I’ve been thinking about Jon and Damian having been together for a fair amount of time, just enough to make Valentines important. Damian doesn’t try to go out of his way a lot but he wants to this time. He’s been planning something for Jon, something he thinks will make him very happy.

He’s been trying to learn kryptonese with the help of Kara. She was not a good teacher so much at first but he was a good student. At night if she wasn’t available he’d shovel through his Dad’s files on Kryptonians and study the alphabet and vocabulary.

He wants to surprise Jon with all his hard work and be able to speak his language. He knows he only picks up kryptonese from Chris and his Dad but beyond that, there are few people who he can share that with.

When they meet, Jon’s the one who thinks he’s surprising Damian with a haul of clothes he’s been gawking at and his favorite vegen dishes he suffered through cooking up. He’s dumbfounded when Damian thanks him in Kryptonese, actually he even thought he misheard him.

When he realizes what’s happening he throws back an “I’m glad you like it,” as a joke but when Damian understands and replies casually, his mouth gapes open.

He’s so happy, so purely happy, he can’t sit down anymore - he practically flew to him, berating Damian with questions on where he learned it from and how his punctuation is so good.

Damian’s proud of himself but less proud when Jon sheds a tear, then another, and then his smile just fades. So does Damian’s and now it stops being so proud.

Jon just cries and cries, Damian asks why he’s crying but he keeps saying “I don’t know,” all he can do is hold him tight till it passes.

If he was honest to himself that was the truth, he didn’t know, he was just as confused as Damian when he couldn’t stop himself from shoking on his own spit. Maybe, it had something to do with how at home he felt, or the way it felt so cared about and respected, like sometimes it’s easy to forget that you belong to the Earth as it’s easy to forget some people belong to you. He thought it couldn’t possibly affect him like the others - thought he’d be the one to break the cycle but alas, there still was pain that almost flowed in his blood.

Damian asked him if he didn’t want him to do that anymore but no, Jon insisted that he did and asked if maybe he could do the same for him sometime.

[m0nster-babi]

Slip Up

Regressor! Bruce Wayne/Batman, Caregiver! Alfred Pennyworth, ft. Clark Kent/Superman

Angst/comfort

This is not tied to any particular incarnation of Batman

Warnings: mentions of a fake gun, amateur writing

Alfred could tell Bruce was at least a little distressed when he had exited the BatMobile, which was odd since the Justice League didn't even have a big mission today. Just some minor crimes and then filing reports about them. At most, there was a bank robber in Metropolis armed with a 'gun' that turned out just to be a painted airsoft for scare. Alfred sometimes reads through reports as they are submitted into the system.

Regardless of no real big findings today, Bruce still headed straight for the computer like always. Alfred was still able to catch that slight look of distress before he sat down and turned away, though; the way his brow was furrowed not in the usual scowl but a deeper emotion, his lips tightened and mouth minorly askewed into an almost grimace of pain inperceivable to just about anyone except for Al. It made him worried for his ward.

"Are you alright, Master Bruce?" he asked gently. Not so gently as to sound tender, as too much care seemed to put off 'The Batman' causing him to shut down or flee, even though he had been cared for by this same man since he was born. However, today Batman didn't hide. It almost seemed as if 'Batman' wasn't there at all by the way the response of, "Nothing," came out. It wasn't laced with gruff or the secret hidden fear of letting people close that Alfred knew he suffered. It didn't sound like Batman at all. He sounded. . . embarrassed. Like a child not wanting to speak about something cause they just wanted to bury it.

"Are you certain?" he pushed, now more just curious than worried. "Is something on your mind?"

"No, I'm fine. Nothing happened, just. . ." Bruce never finished the sentence. Remarkably unlike him. He hadn't even looked at anything on the computer yet despite having sat down in front of it. When he finally typed something, it was only the password to unlock the computer, then he was a bit frozen all over again.

Alfred just stood there, pondering. Bruce must've felt the stare on him.

"I just. . . said something really dumb. That's all." His voice had gotten quieter, and he refused to look at Alfred. Now he was worried again, cause this must mean that it was very serious to Bruce.

Alfred stepped closer till he could put his hand on Bruce's shoulder. He then slid his hand to the back of the neck, where the cowl met the suit and could be removed separately. A silent gesture Bruce caught on to as he hesitantly removed the cowl.

"I'm sure whatever was said can be forgiven by your team. They are all kind and understanding people, even towards someone as hard on the outside as you, Master Bruce." Though the last part was a small jab at the suited man, it was said with no contempt. Only comfort.

Bruce was slightly curled in on himself, and Alfred swore he could see the gleam on his ward's eyes; the gleam of watery eyes that had not yet gathered tears to shed. He hadn't seen Bruce this distraught over anything in the past dealing with the Justice League. He has come home preoccupied with guilt from being hard on the team. He has come home saddened at the team openly discussing feeling distant from him and he expressed to Alfred he just can't break past his own barriers. He has come home dissociated after grueling missions that have left the team wounded to the point of hospitalization.

But Alfred has never seen him so embarrassed to the point of possibly crying. This highly-volatile emotional state is unheard of from him.

Almost unheard of. . .

He's fidgeting with his hands, too.

'Oh, my love,' Alfred thought to himself in realization.

Alfred moved himself more to Bruce's side, practically in front of the chair, so that he could cup the boy's cheek in his hand. Those big, round eyes, definitely wet with tears about to form, finally looked up at him before he gently swatted Al's hand away and scooted the chair just a couple inches away from him. He whined as he did, a protest to it all.

"There's no need for shame, my dear."

Alfred then heard Bruce sniffle as he leaned over the desk, putting his head in his hands.

Regression was not new to them, but Bruce took much warming up to it. Realizing he did it involuntary and that it was okay was a battle to get him to realize. Then he denied himself from wanting to regress voluntarily. Then there's all the stuff inbetween such as what he wanted during regression: bottles or sippies or big boy cups, diapers or pull ups or neither, pacis or not, what toys, what books, ect. It was a fight that has lasted since his teen years, and he still admits to feeling bad about it or that he's a burden.

"How about you tell me what happened, what you said. Maybe I can help you," he attempted at redirecting the conversation back to the original topic.

Bruce sniffled again, and then breathed for a moment. He finally lifted his head from his hands. The tears had broken free, but at least he could talk.

*

In the Watchtower, the League was split up here and there. They had their briefing about some of the petty crimes that had teamed up on, but they all still had to write out individual reports about ones they handled on their own that night. Some liked to chat with each other, like Flash and Wonder Woman. Others liked to write alone, like Batman. But he didn't get his alone time at first. Superman had followed him through the hallways.

"I'm just suggesting to not put yourself so close to danger. Yes, it turned out to be an airsoft, but you were awfully confident for someone who couldn't confirm that from a quick, non-studying glance." Superman deemed Batman's actions that night as a bit reckless, but ultimately wasn't hounding him.

"My suit could've taken a real bullet anyways," Batman grunted back. He was sort of paying attention to Superman's talk, but he felt a little dazed. The thing was: he didn't realize he was dazed. He didn't take notice of his involuntary tuning-out of everything. He didn't feel the floors beneath his feet. He didn't have visual confirmation of where he was heading and was rather on autopilot. He couldn't feel his movements as he walked. Just dazed and unaware of it.

He could hear Superman say some other things, and he comprehended it was about being safe, but he couldn't actually recall a single word that was being said to him.

He then felt himself say something in return. It took him a second to realize what he said, though it felt like an eternity of trying to understand what it was.

"Okay, Daddy."

He said it so casually. It just slipped off his tongue. It held no weight when he said it; nothing stopped it from coming out, but when he realized, it hit him like a ton of cartoon bricks and he felt his throat close up.

They both paused physically and verbally. Batman was just internally shocked but didn't dare look or talk to Superman. He kept asking himself why he said that. Why did he say that? Why did he say that? Why did he say that?

Why did he let himself say that?!

"Well excuuuuse me for caring about this team!" Superman broke the silence with a jest. He was chuckling, but Batman couldn't process why immediately. "Okay, maybe I'm a little overbearing, but you still mean a lot to me, Bats!" He chuckled a bit more. He lightly placed his hand on the other man's shoulder as if bracing himself in whatever hilarity he perceived this as.

Batman slowly looked up at him, but Superman must've not seen the horror underneath the cowl. "I didn't know you could make a joke," he spoke as he started turning the other direction. "I'll get off your back for tonight, sonny." He spoke the last word with laughter still stuck to his voice as he half-waved, than walked away.

Batman was still stunned. Okay. Superman took it as a jest, that Bats was remarking on Superman's fatherly concern. That should have Batman relieved, but it doesn't.

Why did he let himself say that?

*

Bruce spoke a bit broken up and unformulaic as he tried to recount the events. The tears still ran down his face, but he didn't break down into sobs at any point.

"It just came out. I didn't think it, I just said it." Bruce was now rambling slightly through his sniffles and labored breaths to try and keep from breaking down.

"I'm certain if Superman understood, he would still forgive you for the slip," Alfred tried to comfort him.

"I shouldn't think that stuff. I was with the others, I was workin'. I shouldn't think that stuff when workin'." It was progressively getting harder to keep himself calm.

Alfred knows that his baby isn't mad for calling Superman 'Daddy', necessarily. If that were the case, it would all have been solved when Superman took it as a joke. No, he was upset that he was regressing involuntarily in front of other people. On top of that, this might have been a passing thought in his mind for a while, thinking of Clark as a caregiver. Alfred fought hard to get Bruce to see that regression wasn't gross or weak just between the two of them, but they both knew very well what outsiders thought. And Bruce, despite what others say, cares a lot about what others think about him.

"Aw, sweetheart," Alfred had caught back up to Bruce's side and grabbed one of his ward's hands. "Superman would never hurt you. You know that, don't you? He's always kind and gentle. He would understand." Al sandwiched the hand between his own, and rubbed his thumb soothingly over the top of it. "It will be alright, my love."

Bruce finally just let himself cry as Alfred pulled him into a hug. With Bruce still sitting, his head was cradled in Alfie's chest. He moved his head to the side so he could hear his heartbeat, and that helped him calm down again. That, and the gentle hand sliding up and down his back that he could feel even through the suit.

"Why don't we get you changed out of this tight suit, get you cleaned up with a bath, change into some soft pajamas, and I'll make your favorite tonight: mulligatawny soup. How does that sound, little one?"

He felt more than saw Bruce nod as his cry had returned to labored breaths.