#because even though it's what it is sometimes that's the only place to get some stuff

[aaagustd]

stay | kth (m)

title: stay pairing: kim taehyung x (f)reader genre/rating: established relationship, smut , fluff; 18+ summary: Sometimes you can be a lot, but Taehyung knows just what you need. warnings: unedited, mentions a petty argument, tae pulling up with the receipts, makeup sex, hickeys, hair tugging, lowkey brat tamer!tae, small Dom/sub vibes, wrist pinning, soft sex, orgasm control, begging, slight edging, i think that’s all wc: 0.7k release date: february 28th, 2025; 10:12pm est author’s note: Someone requested some smutty boyfriend!tae. This is also a repost because tumblr wiped the first one.

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“What’s my name again?”

Hands gripping fistfuls of his dark brown hair, your back arches off your messy bed as Taehyung leaves a trail of hickeys across your chest. 

Waking up to your angry boyfriend standing over you with last night’s messages on display in his hand was a surprise. 

Neither was getting your soul fucked clean out of you before 8AM.

But here you are, a withering mess beneath him, not even able to remember your own name—you sure as hell remember his though.

“Taehyung!—”

“Uh, uh.”

He silences your cries with a gentle kiss on your lips, contrasting the way his hips violently snap as they deliver thrust after thrust.

Taehyung’s consistency leads you to your peak in little time, but just as the sweet taste of ecstasy falls on your tongue, his pace decreases, bringing your pleasure to an agonizing halt.

“What did you call me last night?” he teases, reminding you of all the things you typed in the heat of the moment.

Whines instantly tear from your parted lips. But Taehyung doesn’t bat an eye of sympathy for you; instead, he mocks your disappointment.

“Aw, being bratty isn’t working out for you, huh?”

Taking both your wrists, he pulls you away from his thick tresses and pins them above your head. He sinks deeper, touching your cervix while he stares at you with those dark eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, your voice hoarse and trembling. “You’re not an asshole.”

He smirks.

“Of course, I’m not.”

Taehyug nearly pulls all the way out of you only to swiftly thrust back in. You yelp his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but that doesn’t deter him one bit.

“An asshole, wouldn’t drive an hour after working 14 hours just so he can see you,” he growls in your ear. “Would he?”

“No!”

You cry out as he carries out the same movement as before, but this time, it’s with more precision. Your walls quiver as the tip of his dick hits your G-spot.

The sensation in your gut is slowly returning, and you aren’t sure if you can handle another missed opportunity. You try your hardest to make up for your silly little rant so that your boyfriend will do what he always does—fuck your brains out and then cater to you like you’re his queen.

“Assholes can’t fuck you like this. Can’t they, baby?”

Taehyung seems to be feeling the exact thing. His body is tense as he begins to slide slowly in and out of your crevice. He squeezes your wrists, fighting back the urge to chase his high before he can prove his point.

“No, Tae—”

His lips cut you off, kissing you deeply while he fucks you into the mattress. Your hips lift off the bed to match his thrusts, fueling Taehyung to fuck you faster and harder. Your tongues swirl around each other’s, adding to the lewd sounds resonating throughout your bedroom.

As the sex gets hotter, your moans get louder, and soon your legs are wrapping around your boyfriend’s waist. He chuckles, knowing how desperate you’ve become in the palm of his hand. He knows you’ll do anything to reach your sweet peak.

“Say my name again,” he requests. “I won’t interrupt.”

“Taehyung…”

Without hesitation, his name rolls off your tongue, and it does again and again—until he decides he’s done playing his little game.

“Cum.”

Like he flipped a switch, your body reacts to his command. The wave hits you hard, making you freeze in place as Taehyung fucks you senselessly. His movements become wild, but his intentions are clear. He holds on with everything he has, ensuring you reach your peak before he seeks his own pleasure.

Only when you’re squirming with sensitivity does he pull out, stroking his dick until he paints your thighs with his hot seed.

Both of you stay in your positions, exhausted and out of breath—the argument long gone out of your minds. You look at his defeated figure hovering above you, trying to find something to clean you before he takes off. 

However, you couldn’t care less about the mess. There’s only one request you have for your man as you reach for him and pull him closer.

“Stay.”

…And he does.

[moonsgemini]

cherry wine pt. 3 - firefighter!rafe

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

summary: After a couple weeks you & Rafe finally get to see each other again. He invites you over & makes you dinner & you know the perfect way to thank him. Of course it only ignites the mutual obsession.

warning: firefighter!rafe x teacher!reader, fem reader, fluff, two people obsessed with each other, oral (m. rec), dirty talk, rafe being sexy

an: hi! sorry this took so long & it’s on the shorter side. I promise the next part will come much sooner. Ugh I feel like this isn’t my best work. Also this can kinda be read as a stand alone.

masterlist ★ part one - part two

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

It had been a couple weeks since your first date with Rafe and since then you’d seen each other a couple times sporadically. It was only ever for a few minutes though. He’d be just getting off a sixteen hour shift and meeting you for ice cream or you’d stop by the station and drop off baked goods. His busy schedule and yours didn’t allow for much free time.

Occasionally he’d leave treats at your front door before he went off to work. A hot coffee and a muffin or a scone to help you get through the day. Sometimes even a small bouquet of flowers and a cute note, that particularly made your heart flutter.

The two of you texted practically all day, sometimes he’d call you on his way home if it wasn’t too late and you weren’t lesson planning or grading. It was nice to not feel so obligated to see someone you were dating every day.

At least you think you guys are dating. Actually you don’t know what the two of you are doing. You wouldn’t consider one date to be dating. But every thing since then has felt so much like dating.

He wasn’t shy about letting you know how much he liked you in turn neither were you. He was the first guy to not make you feel embarrassed about your over flowing feelings.

When he let you know that he had a few days off coming up you made sure to get as much work done before then. Yeah you did like the idea of still having your space but you couldn’t deny that you missed him. Plus trying to catch up on lesson plans, grading, and parent conferences all week had run you ragged. You could use some alone time with a hot firefighter.

The thought of seeing him again made those butterflies flutter. It may be possible that you actually had missed him a lot. Not only had you missed his smile, jokes, and his attentiveness but you also missed his mouth and his hands. The smell of his cologne made you want to lick him.

What he had done to you the last time you’d seen each other replayed in your head whenever you had a spare moment. You hadn’t felt so wanted in so long that having him just wanting to taste you and being satisfied with that made you all the more desperate for him. He was truly the first real man you’d been with and you can’t even imagine what he’d be like during sex.

Rafe invited you over to his place so he could make you dinner. From what you had told him he could tell you had a long busy week. He made sure to promise you there’d be cherry wine of course.

It was a Friday and he had the day off so he had spent the day cleaning his condo and getting everything for dinner ready. He even bought some of your favorite snacks you had mentioned in conversation in case you wanted some while watching a movie later.

A part of him hoped you’d want to sleep over, it’d be nice to not sleep alone for once. He decided on cooking steak since that’s what he knew best. He was just a man after all.

He was a bit nervous. Which was a new feeling for Rafe. He didn’t typically miss people and usually that was because he didn’t stick around long enough to know anyone like that. It was a defense mechanism but there was something about you that made him want more. It wasn’t just how good you tasted and looked but it was how easy it felt to talk to you. Rafe thought you were funny, smart, and he liked how you played along with his teasing.

-

After school was over and you touched up your makeup in your classroom. You even changed into a tank top that was a bit revealing and your favorite pants that made your ass look fantastic. You didn’t want to waste anymore time away from him so as soon as you finished you headed out to his place.

That feeling of missing him so much should scare you but you liked it. You liked missing Rafe and you liked that you knew he missed you. With him everything felt real and you didn’t question your feelings or if you were being too eager.

You had to send the principal a fruit basket or something for continuing to insist the firefighter come every year. A few days ago you found out they almost didn’t do it this year but it all worked out. You can’t imagine not meeting Rafe now that you know him.

He didn’t live too far from the school so the drive was relatively short. You had texted him when you left school and since then he had been waiting outside for your arrival. When he saw your car pull up he walked down his driveway to meet you.

Being the gentleman that he is he opened your door for you, that smirk never falling from his lips. You loved him in date attire and his work uniform but him dressed like this. In a sweatshirt and grey sweatpants was making you swoon. He looked so domesticated you would get on your knees for him right here in the driveway.

“Hi,” You said bashfully as you stepped out. Every time you saw him it felt like the first time. Still occasionally turning into a pile of bashful mush around him.

“Hi,” He shut your door and placed a hand on the small of your back leading you up the driveway.

“Been waiting for me?” You teased.

He nodded, “Of course. Been thinking about you all day.” The heat creeped up your neck at his earnestness.

“You’re not shy about what you want huh?” You teased.

He shook his head with a smirk, “Then how would I always get what I want?”

You scoffed as he opened the door letting you in first, “I don’t know if cocky is a good look on you Cameron.”

He laughed, “Not cocky just confident,” he shut the door and gently put his hand on your stomach pushing you back against the door, “And I always get what I want.” Rafe leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your mouth.

It was like finally breathing fresh air when your lips met for the first time in a while. You would make out with him all night right there if you could, but he pulled away with a grin.

After gathering yourself you laughed and gently shoved him, “You’re dangerous.”

-

His condo was nice. It was clean and had as much decor as a man in his 20s with a demanding job can have. There were a couple frames pictures on a shelf. They looked to be his sisters he had mentioned a few times. At least you didn’t have to worry about him secretly having a family.

In the living room he had set up blankets on the couch and candles on his coffee table. It was cute how he wanted to set the romantic mood. To top it off he had Netflix open ready to have a movie played.

You sat on one of the stools on the breakfast bar as you watched him cook. He wanted to wait till you were here so the food was hot. It smelled delicious. If he could cook good food you were never letting him get away. He was almost too good to be true.

The way his back muscles flexed under his white tee shirt had your mouth watering. You wanted to bite him. The two of you made casual conversation about your week. It was weird how his ability to multitask made you more attracted to him.

“You wanna pick a movie while I plate?” He asked turning to you with a smirk.

You agreed and walked over to the living room. As you scrolled Rafe got the wine glasses and opened a bottle. He walked over to you with two plates and glasses.

“Wow, thank you chef,” You teased helping him with the plates.

“Don’t say that too much now you’ll turn me on,” He laughed but was being completely serious.

“Maybe I will then,” You smirked.

-

A bottle and a half of wine later the two of you were settled on the couch not particularly paying attention to the movie playing. It was a romcom you had suggested and obviously Rafe wasn’t going to say no. The pair of you couldn’t keep your mouths shut talking about anything and everything.

It felt so natural laying with you and talking. Everything from the outside world disappeared and Rafe could just focus on you and making you laugh. A sound he had grown to admire. The sound warmed his chest and made him want to pinch your cheeks. It was scary how fast he had become obsessed with you.

He hoped the feeling was mutual but by your body language he’s sure it is. Seeing Rafe relaxed in his own space was doing something to you. The alcohol in your blood stream not helping either. It didn’t help that he also couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Not even inna sexual way but it was still lighting you on fire.

His warm heavy hand had been resting on your thigh and he’d squeeze it occasionally. If he saw your hair move in front of your face he’d be quick to tuck it behind your ear. He even fed you some of your steak and used his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth. Then he had the audacity put his thumb in his mouth to taste what was on your mouth and hum. You’re convinced he was put on this earth to torture you.

It finally became too much when he grabbed one of your legs and draped if over his. His hand began to trace circle on your inner thigh. Moving higher up every few minutes.

You set your empty glass on the table and turned fully towards Rafe. Both of your legs across his lap now. He didn’t notice your change in demeanor as he looked forward and went on about this show he saw with the main guy in it.

“Then he like asks her-“

“Rafe?” You interrupted.

He turned to you with a small grin, “Hm?”

“Thanks for dinner and everything,” You spoke softly.

His lips lifted in a crooked boyish smile, “Of course sweetheart.”

You reached out and rested a hand on his chest, “I think I need to thank you properly.”

Rafe could hear the innuendo in your statement and he was loving where this was going. He maneuvered you as a surprised sound left you when he placed you on his lap to straddle him. His hands now resting on your hips and yours on his shoulders.

“How would you do that hm?”

You shrugged feigning contemplation, “A kiss maybe.”

He raised a brow, “Oh yeah?”

You nodded and leaned forward closing the gap between you. Rafe pulled you closer so your chests were pressed together. He groaned as his body lit up feeling your weight on him. Your hands moved up his chest to grip the strands of hair at the back of his head.

Rafe’s hands gripped anywhere he could reach. The way he manhandled you had your underwear getting damp. He pulled away but only to press open mouthed kisses on your neck. He moved one of his hands into your hair and gently tugged at it to expose more skin. He could just eat you up.

The small whines and soft sighs you were letting out made his dick swell. He mumbled something about how good you taste before his lips slotted with yours again.

After a couple minutes of kissing and you may have started grinding against his bulge. As if you could stay still while feeling just how much he wanted you, but you had something else in mind for tonight. Especially since he’s already been so giving to you, so gently pushed his chest as you pulled away.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” He asked hazily. Rafe was drunk on you.

You giggled and shook your head, “Nothin I just think there’s something else I could be doing with my mouth.”

His eyes widened a bit surprised but it was quickly replaced by excitement. Now usually Rafe is a giver and he doesn’t mind not receiving. Like the last time you were together he got off just on making you cum, but he wasn’t going to stop you if you wanted to suck him off.

“Yeah? Feel free to show me,” He rubbed his hands up and down her sides.

“oh I will,” You smiled softly before leaning in and placing a kiss on his jaw. Moving down to his neck as your hands ducked under his shirt to feel the hard muscles of his abdomen.

Soon you were kneeling on the floor and your hands were fumbling a but as you tugged at his sweatpants. He helped you pull them off and he sprung free from the confines.

You’re not particularly fond of the way dick’s look but Rafe’s was one you could appreciate. No other guy had one this pretty, was it weird to think it’s pretty? you thought as you leaned forward. Never breaking eye contact with him as you gave his head a tentative lick.

That alone had him throwing his head back with a groan. Your mouth wrapped around his head. Rafe was going to explode with how warm and wet your mouth was you gently sucked on him.

Inch by inch you took him in deeper. Your head bobbing up and down at a slow pace to start. Once Rafe felt himself hit the back of your throat his hips stuttered. He was doing everything in his power not to thrust into your mouth.

“Fuck baby you look so good like this,” He groaned as he looked down. You looked like an angel with his cock in your mouth and doe eyes looking up at him. Your hand holding what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Drool was starting to fall from your mouth. He felt your throat constrict around him as you sped up your pace.

“So pretty with my cock in your mouth,” He continued praising you once he saw how his words made you rub your thighs together. You hoped he hadn’t noticed that but he did.

You hummed softly around him. The vibrations adding to his pleasure. Rafe wrapped one hand around your hair to create a makeshift pony tail as your motions became sloppier.

“Getting me so close,” He sighed, “Feels like heaven in your mouth.”

One of your hands reach between him to fondle his balls. This is what got him closer to the edge.

“Dirty girl eh?” He gripped your hair a little tighter, “You’re so hot I could cum just by looking at your face.”

He felt you gag around him and that is what tipped him over, “Fuck I’m gonna cum baby.” He thrusted his hips upwards fucking your mouth. Not too hard obviously but it was enough to finally push him over the edge.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He chanted and groaned as you took him as deep as possible as the his cum shot down your throat.

You pulled off of him with a pop and wipes your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt hot as you thought about what just happened. Rafe had his head thrown back with his eyes closed as he still worked on catching his breath.

“Was that okay?” You asked a bit shyly. Rafe let out a choked laugh

“Fucking better than okay,” He laughed as he peered down at you. You laughed softly and he leaned down to pull you back on to his lap. With you on top of him he maneuvered his sweatpants back on.

Rafe pulled you in and kissed you. His tongue invading your mouth. You’re thinking he surely must taste himself but not care. That thought left you even more damp. Your thighs clenching around his hips.

You pulled away and leaned your forhead against his as you softly spoke, “Rafe I really like you.”

He stroked your cheek with his thumb as he held your face, “I really like you too.” You let out a breathy laugh feeling like a giddy school girl.

He pulled away to look at you properly, “Want to stay the night? We don’t have to do anything else.”

You nodded before he could even finish, “I’d love to stay.”

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Father's Heart: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge at @inklings-challenge

Let me tell you, I sure confused that Beast when I returned. Have you ever seen a cat pounce on its own tail? That was the look of confusion the Beast had when he saw me in his palace. Only this cat was enormous—standing seven feet tall on his hind legs—black as soot, with claws this long, and a mouth full of teeth like butcher knives.

"Where is your daughter?" he asked me. Yes, that's what he sounded like—all deep and raspy, like he was growling and purring beneath his words.

"At home," I said.

"You did not bring her?"

“You told me,” I told him, "that I could return to be devoured or send her to take my place. I returned.”

"She did not wish to save you?"

“I never told her. Do you think I could lay that kind of burden upon my own daughter? What sort of father do you take me for?”

He had taken me for a cowardly one, I guess, because it took me a long time to convince him that my daughters were all safely at home, and I didn't plan to fetch any of them. He didn't seem to know what to do with me after that. He wasn't as bloodthirsty as I'd have expected someone with that many teeth to be.

"You will be my guest," he said at last—and he didn't seem too glad about saying it. No doubt he'd have preferred a pretty young girl as a houseguest to a weathered old sailor. But he gave me run of the place—I could help myself to anything, go anywhere I pleased. I didn't understand it. He'd been ready to kill me for a rose, and now he was giving me everything in the house?

I wasn't about to complain, though, so I set about to enjoy the place. The Beast encouraged me to enjoy the luxuries of the palace, but I've always been a working man—I didn't fancy living the life of an idle aristocrat. Before the week was out, I was working in the gardens—the place was overgrown like you wouldn't believe. When I wanted a rest, I'd explore the castle, and boy, was there plenty to see. He had rooms upon rooms of treasures—paintings, silks, wines, musical instruments, even an entire room full of exotic birds! I'd made my living selling such things, and my head swam at the sight of it—a tenth of it would have been worth more than all the riches I could have transported in ten lifetimes.

I didn't make my fortune by having dull wits, and I didn't lose it for lack of courage, so it wasn't long before I began to piece together the truth of this place and confronted the Beast with it.

"How long have you been cursed, your highness?" I asked him one evening at supper.

That great big cat was so shocked he knocked a wine bottle off the table. "Who says I am cursed?"

"Blazes, man, I'm not blind! This palace is worth more than most of the kingdoms of the world put together. If there was a king out there this rich, you can bet every merchant in the world would know of him. He'd have destroyed the world's economy. Fairy magic's the only way you get a horde like this, but you, sir, are no fairy."

Now the Beast seemed intrigued. "How do you know that?"

"A fairy would never have let me live—if he promised to kill me, he'd have killed me. No mercy among their kind. Only a human could have changed his mind like that—for which I'm very grateful, by the way."

"You're welcome," he said, seeming dazed.

I went on, "You're definitely more than a dumb beast; you walk and talk and dress like a man, so it stands to reason you were a man once—that furry coat of yours is just some fairy shell. Same way all these riches are probably just dirt and ashes once you take away the magic. Which means you must have run afoul of a fairy sometime in your past, who decided to curse you with an animal body and then trap you in a palace full of false riches."

I looked at the furnishings, the food, the Beast's clothes—everything spoke of royalty. "Fairies always meddle with royals, so you must have been a prince. The seventh son of the king of Gher went missing just before I went on my last voyage, so I'd wager that he is you. Am I right?"

The Beast goggled. "I…can't say."

"Which means I'm right. No fairy worth his salt would let you say you were cursed. Which means all I have to do is figure out how to break it. Those fairies always give you a way out—the more improbable the better."

I came around to his side of the table so I could walk around him and examine him from all angles. "You were disappointed when I came—you wanted one of my daughters, not me. When I did come, you didn't seem too keen on killling me—which makes me think it was an empty threat, trying to convince me to send my daughter instead. Which means she must be the way to break the curse. What can she do that I can't? Easy—true love. No fairy would think a girl could love a hulking monster like you, so that would be their impossible way to break the curse. You needed, what—true love? Marriage?"

"I can't say," the Beast said, but I knew by his face that I'd hit upon the right answer.

"That makes things simple. You let me out once before. Let me go home again and fetch one of my girls, tell her there's a prince waiting for her, and bring her back to join you in wedded bliss."

He seemed genuinely horrified by that. "I…can't say."

"Oh, of course. It won't count if she knows you're a prince. Well, I'll leave that part out. Tell her that the Beast who spared my life is in need of more company. With a bit of time and a bit of encouragement from her old dad, we'll have you back in human form by Christmas."

He thought it was worth a try, and something he could arrange with the conditions of his curse. So I went home to my children, convinced my sons not to follow me to slay the Beast, and made the castle sound intriguing enough that all three of my girls agreed to join me. I thought that maybe Hope would be the one to break the curse—she's always been the boldest of my girls—but it turned out that my quiet, gentle Beauty brought out the soft side of the Beast. It was the cutest thing you ever saw, the way they'd sit together reading in the rose gardens, that great big cat as shy as a schoolboy with her.

It wasn't three weeks before the Beast worked up the courage to propose—and my Beauty accepted without hesitation. Then there was blinding light and earthquakes, and when the dust cleared, the palace was gone. We were standing in a clearing in the woods—and a black-haired prince stood where the black-haired Beast had once been.

He's an excellent boy—I'll be proud to call him a son. He doesn't mind at all that his bride's the daughter of a failed merchant or that she once worked on a farm. We'll all be moving to his palace across the sea to live as honored members of the family.

Which is why we're moving out on such short notice—his highness doesn't want to be away from his kingdom any longer than he has to. I'm sure you'll find someone else to take the old place off your hands.

No, you don't have to believe me, but it's much better if you do. You'll look much less like a fool once it comes out that it's all true.

[bunni-v1]

MORE JEALOUS PURE VANILLA COOKIE OMGGGG he'd totally be a jealous person despite his kindness

kinda imagining that in the stage during the push and pull he was doing, trying to push you away, you become quite close to some other cookies in the kingdom, specifically the creme Republic (clotted cream and financier) and he just gets.... uncomfortable when you two are FINALLY together because you're so friendly with clotted cream and his bodyguard.... like, hello.........

his eyes narrow slightly, and it just makes him feel so unpleasant, knowing that clotted cream cookie can easily strike up conversation with you and randomly tell him something you like—it makes his dough seethe slightly, whether he wants to admit it or not. or how financier and some random vanilla kingdom npcs mention a fact about you he coincidentally doesn't know because he was busy going through it and pushing you away before; OUGHHHHHH

i like to think white lily is involved in this in some way? he can't fully get over her and sometimes he tends to get passive about your very real concerns about how he looks at her as though he has something to say, i wonder how he would react if he finds you actually a bit insecure or unsure whether he'd pick you over her......... since he still cares deeply about his once first love, no?

anyways. yes. jealous PV is a concept that sticks heavily in my mind rn

-🃏

Jealousy Looks Ugly on You

🍓Hi pookiebear, I'm so sorry for 100% butchering the Creme Republic. I refuse to play that shit, even for that stupid blonde twink. Note, this takes place significantly after the events of Beast Yeast, so White Lily is technically visiting as a diplomat from the Faerie kingdom, and pv has already had his character development lol. Assumptions are made, and there is heavily implied past PureLily.

Tw: Poor communication; jealousy; implications at the very end; grammar/spelling errors

Info: Pure Vanilla x Reader; Implied past purelily; angst (not really though); fluff

Patience is a virtue that few cookies can claim to have. It's something that doesn't come easy to most, and Pure Vanilla Cookie has never judged anyone for being unable to hold themselves back from frustration. Except... himself of course.

He was exceptionally patient, to the point most gawked at him for his gentleness and understanding in certain situations. He held himself to a higher standard, and very few things brought out irritation in him. So... why exactly was the sight of Clotted Cream Cookie making his dough run so hot right now?

It wasn't as though Clotted Cream was doing anything offensive, quite the opposite actually. He was having a pleasant conversation, all warm smiles and... gentle touches. With who? Oh. Just the object of Pure Vanilla's deepest affections, the cookie he'd only recently been able to call his other half, his dearly beloved you.

Clotted Cream seems to speak to you with such familiarity, such warmth like perhaps he too harbors some kind of affection for you. Pure Vanilla's eyebrow twitches when he leans in to whisper something in your ear, and you laugh like it's the funniest thing you've ever heard. It nearly pulls a frown out of him, but his calm smile remains steadfast, not wanting you to notice and worry over him.

Still, his eyes narrow when Clotted Cream pats you on your shoulder good-naturedly. The former cookie locking eyes with him and smiling before sending you back to his side like he hadn't earned Pure Vanilla's ire only seconds ago. You are oblivious, as you always are, as he wants you to be. He only smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you just a little closer than he normally does.

"Did you enjoy your time with Clotted Cream Cookie, my love?" He asks sweetly, though he doesn't really want to know.

You give him a beaming smile, "As always. He knows how to make boring proceedings fun."

"Ah," he hopes you don't notice how he tenses, "What were you talking about just now, it seemed funny."

"Just an inside joke," you smile fondly as you remember, "it's only funny if you were there, or else I'd let you in on it too."

"That's alright," he hums, though his fingers press a little harder into your side as you walk, "I'm just happy to see you happy."

It's not a lie, either. He does love seeing your smile, but not when it's caused by another cookie. Not when it's treated like some kind of secret he's not meant to see. He tries to remind himself that there's no need to be so immature, but his dough is already warm and his mind spiraling. It took him so very long to come to terms with his feelings for you, he missed out on so much. Where he wasn't, other cookies were, and those cookies took his place in experiences that should've been his. Took smiles that should've been his. Moments he should've shared with you.

You place your hand where he holds you at your waist, turning to give him a warm smile. It warms his heart to know you're caring for him in your own way, but he doesn't want to make you worry. To ease your mind, he presses a kiss to your forehead, offering his own smile up to you. You were with him now, there was no need to worry any longer.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

Pure Vanilla enjoyed quiet moments with you, especially ones like this. In the garden, surrounded by the white lilies there was nothing more peaceful than that. Your fingers run along their delicate petals as you hum a little tune to yourself, and he enjoys the sight with unbridled delight. His favorite cookie surrounded by his favorite flowers, what a blessing it is on his soul.

There are times where he wishes that every day could be like this. Just you and him in company, taking things nice and slow, soaking in the environment. You turn a little to sneak a glance at him, smiling to yourself when you notice his staring. The shyness cute on your face, something he loves to draw out of you.

Yes moments like these are exactly what he lives fo—

“Y/n Cookie? Are you around?” The familiar voice of Financier Cookie calls amongst the sea of flowers.

You perk up, standing from your spot with a wide smile, “I’m over here with the lilies!”

She comes into view around the corner, normally stern expression softening at the sight of you. Pure Vanilla does not like the look on her face. Still, he holds his tongue, there was no reason to be upset. She was a friend.

“Clotted Cream requests your presence,” She announces, and when you frown she shakes her head, “Nothing serious, he wishes to continue your conversation from yesterday. He’s in he quarters as usual.”

You brighten up, “Oh! I suppose we never did finish talking— ah, but… Pure Vanilla and I were spending some time together.”

He does not frown, though he really wants to. He knows that he could just say no, that you would remain by his side if he asked… but he can’t possibly take up your time when you are wanted elsewhere. It would be unfair to do so over such petty jealousy.

“We see each other every day,” He assures with that same gentle smile, “Go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

You frown a little, “Are you sure?”

Of course he isn’t, “Positive. I’ll see you tonight.”

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at him worriedly, but ultimately wander off to find Clotted Cream. Financier stays back for a moment, watching you with an odd look on her face. The consideration is enough to pique his interest, so he raises his question.

“Is something the matter…?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” She shakes her head, “I would tell you immediately if there was anything to be concerned with.”

“Then why do you look so perplexed?” He asks again.

She seems to consider if telling him the truth is worth it or not. Mulling her options over for a few seconds before sighing, “It’s just a bit… odd to see them here.”

He frowns, “Whatever do you mean? Is there something wrong with the gardens?”

She shakes her head, sighing off some kind of weight, “Well, they’ve told me a few times in passing that they’re… not a fan of while lillie’s. The smell irritates them, if I’m remembering correctly, so it’s surprising to find them surrounded by them.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware…” He mutters, grip tightening on his staff.

She gives him a small reassuring smile, but it does anything but help, “I’m sure they just forgot to mention it, that’s all.”

“Of course, thank you Financier Cookie,” He hummed with as much sincerity he could muster.

She smiles tightly at him, and then leaves him alone with his thoughts. And think he does, far too much. Not only are you so close with so many cookies, not only did you leave him for Clotted Cream today, but now he learns you don’t even care for his favorite flower? You hadn’t ever mentioned it to him, but you had to other cookies. Wouldn’t something this important be worth talking about with him?

He takes a deep breath, leveling himself out once again. He couldn’t get ahead of himself, knowing that you would never do anything to hurt him purposefully. He couldn’t stop the ache, though. There was so much he did not know about you, so many things he had to learn that other cookies got to hear without asking.

How much time would it take for him to know you the way they did? He burned with jealousy at how easy it was for other cookies to know you, to see you and talk to you with no effort. Each time you were around he felt himself falling apart at the seams, grasping at any little sprinkle of attention you gave him. He could never be so casual with you, not with the effect you had on him, and it made him so jealous to know other cookies had it so easy.

He sighs again, setting his hat down. Not even the lilies were bringing him comfort now, his mood soured yet again. All he could do was sit and seethe until you returned to his side, imagining what you and Clotted Cream might be talking about that was so important to pluck you from his side.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

It is days of this cycle, which he refuses to break, even when given the chance to a million times. He just can’t find it in himself to step in, not when you seem so happy. Besides, it’s not as though he never sees you. He gets to have you to himself for most of the day, and especially at night.

Still, the annoyance grows in his chest little by little. Without realizing it he distanced himself from you, not wanting to overstep, he decides giving you space is for the best. Yet, he doesn’t realize just how much space he has given you. You begin to miss him, but he always has an excuse for you to go and visit with other cookies.

It feels like he does not want you around, even though he misses you dearly. The conundrum reaches a head when White Lily comes to visit. Being the Faerie Queen now, it was rare she took the time to see her old friend. So when the news of her traveling reached his ears, he cleared all his time to be with her.

You had not seen him since she had arrived, unless you were in your shared room. Even then, you hardly spoke more than a few words. There was an awkwardness there that hadn’t existed only a few days prior, it made your stomach ache. But how could you bring up your concerns when he merely brushed them away, always finding some way to make peace with the situation.

You did not hate White Lily Cookie, she couldn’t not control Pure Vanilla. But the sickness in your dough when you see them together does not go away with any soothing. He talks to her with such ease and knowing, in a way he never did with you. And when he looks at her there is a deep affection that never existed for you.

It makes you hurt. You could never be her, not in a million years. Perhaps that was why he was so distant recently, because he had missed her. Perhaps he wished that you were White Lily Cookie instead.

Despite him seeming oblivious, he was anything but. He was fully aware of the distance he had made between the two of you, and yet… he didn’t know how to fix it. His people pleasing ways had come around to stab him in the back, and he had no idea how to heal the wound inflicted by his own foolish actions.

Not until White Lily’s keen eyes picked up in the tension. She had always been able to read him well, it was why he was so fond of her. She knew him like no other cookie did, and he her. Which is exactly why she was the one to notice how worried he’d seemed.

“You’re tense,” She said simply, taking her seat next to him in the pagoda.

He sighs, “Is it obvious.”

“To me,” She smiles, “Tell me what’s on your mind, friend. It’s rare to see you so worried.”

He frowns at her, all the tension and fear from the week flooding him now that she was confronting it, “I am afraid I may be ruining my relationship.”

She blinks at him, tilting her head, “How would you be doing that?”

After a moments hesitation he lists the ways he has been dealing with the situation. The worry that he will never be close enough to you. The annoyance in his chest when other cookies are chummy with you. The distance he has created to avoid those feeling only making them worse. She smiles through the whole thing, knowingly.

“So… you’re jealous?” She chuckles, leaning forward with a teasing smile.

“I… suppose I am,” He admits, “It’s not as though the feeling is new, but it’s never been so strong…”

She laughs at him again, “Because you are in love, silly. Of course it’s stronger, have you talked to them about it.”

“Well…”

“Pure Vanilla.” She scolds, “Goodness, when will you ever learn. You can’t people please all the time, it’s not good for your health.”

He sighs, nodding along in agreement, “I know, I just don’t know how to bring it up so I deflect. And I’ve been avoiding them since you arrived, I can tell they feel horrible, but I fear I’ve gone too far.”

She hushes him, grabbing his hand in her own, “It’s never too late if the intent is there. I’m sure they’ll understand if you just talk to them. I would.”

“Thank you White Lily,” He smiles genuinely for the first time since she arrived, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She smiles warmly at him, squeezing his hand tightly. She always had a way to ease his worries with her words. It was just how well she knew him, she knew just what he needed as always.

A throat clears to the side of them, drawing their attention to it. White Lily reacts first, pulling her hands away from him and offering you a smile.

“Am I interrupting?” You ask, mousy with voice shaking.

“Of course not,” She assures, “We were just talking about you, actually!”

Your expression relaxes a bit, inching forward as if one of them might deny you entry, “Nothing bad I hope…”

“Never,” Pure Vanilla speaks with such warmth that you almost forget how much you’d missed him this whole time, “Please come join us.”

So you do, and you sit and talk with them, and things are nearly normal. Pure Vanilla is back to his usual affectionate self, like nothing ever happened. But you catch the way he and White Lily exchange glances, the way banter comes to them more easily than it ever has to you. They just understood each other in a way you never have, and you couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. Especially not after he’d pushed you away so much.

Eventually, White Lily leaves with the excuse of needing rest. Yet, you know it’s to give the two of you space. She’s always been observant and understanding, and you’re grateful for her consideration. When it is just you and Pure Vanilla again, you feel the tension begin to creep back between you. The thick wall of awkwardness wedging between you, and you fear for a moment that this is how it will be forever now. Then, he takes your hands in his, leaning over the table to get closer to you.

“I have to apologize,” He begins, “I have been unfair to you, and we have both suffered because of my actions.”

“Pure Vanilla—“ You want to ease his worries for some reason, tell him it’s alright, but he doesn’t allow you to.

“It took me a very long time to let you in, and because of that I fell short on sharing important moments with you. I’ve found myself… envious of other cookies who take up your time, and I’ve been immature in how I handle it,” He admits, stroking the backs of your hands, “I’ve put too much distance between us, and I can see how much it pains you. I’m so sorry for how I’ve acted, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

It takes you a moment of awkward blinking to take in all he said, and while his genuineness is sweet, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your stomach. It’s ridiculous when you think about it. He was jealous so he avoided you, and at the same time you were just as jealous of White Lily Cookie. It was silly, and so easily solved, yet neither of you were willing to upset the other. He seems to find the humor in it all too, laughing heartily at your side.

You laugh until your sides hurt and tears are streaming from your eyes. Leaning your full weight on him so you don’t collapse to the floor. When you finally calm, you find it in yourself to admit to your own plight.

“I would be harsh on you, but I’m just as guilty of jealousy.” You sigh, squeezing his fingers in yours.

“What do you have to be jealous of?” He asks, and you almost can’t believe he doesn’t know. It’s so obvious to everyone else around him that he still adores White Lily, everyone but him it seems.

You shake your head in disbelief, “Gosh, you’re so oblivious. You really don’t know how you look at her, do you?”

He shakes his head with a deep frown.

“When you look at White Lily, I can see how much you still love her. I know you would never hurt me or betray me like that, but it does hurt when I see how you treat her. I feel like… maybe you’ll never look at me like that.” You admit, voice small and shaky the longer you go. It was hard to come to terms with how much it hurt, and worse to say out loud to him. He could reject you, pretend your feelings aren’t real.

Instead, he tucks a finger under you chin and forces your eyes on him, “I already do… I just get so embarrassed when you’re looking that I hide it from you.”

He pulls you a little closer, “I still love White Lily, but not in the same way that I love you. You are my whole world, my love. I would never leave you, not for anyone, and I’m sorry I made you worry for even a moment.”

You smile softly at him, leaning into his touch, “Next time, I think we should both just talk about it? All this dodging each other is silly.”

“I agree,” He chuckles, “I much prefer talking to you than not.”

“Very good,” You hum, sliding your arms around his shoulders, “Shall we make it up to each other then?”

His hand tug you closer by your waist, “I think that would be very nice, yes.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! Hi. Hope you guys are doing well. I wanted to ask about referring (pretty blatantly) to autistic characters before autism was a formal diagnosis. One of my characters is nonverbal and autistic and communicates primarily using a notepad (in the Victorian era). Her family (positively coded characters) doesn’t really care or like think negatively of her for being autistic, but they still recognize that she’s not neurotypical, however other characters who appear (not the villains necessarily but negatively coded characters) do care that she’s “abnormal”. Are there any words that really shouldn’t be used to describe her (I have been using ‘odd’ by both groups of characters) or that only one group should use (for example having the ‘mean’ characters use ‘abnormal’ but the ‘nice’ ones use ‘odd’) so I can clearly specify that she is autistic and that it’s not a big deal, while also making sure that the characters who think negatively are portrayed in a negative light (even though they’re not the main villains). While still, not offending anyone or accidentally referring to the character in a pejorative light.

Hi asker,

I'm including some extra context, not just for you the writer, about the Victorian era but also to anyone else reading this ask to learn a little more and maybe be able to apply information to their own characters as well.

The Victorian era is used to refer to the period roughly from 1820 to 1910 in the UK, and often the use of this word for the time is extended to the US as well. Sometimes people use it for other places in Europe, even though Queen Victoria herself only ruled the UK and from 1837 until 1901.

Your character might have been described as 'dumb' or 'mute,' at the time, since she does not speak; for both clarity and reason's sake I would avoid using 'dumb' and only use 'mute' instead. 'Dumb' is, these days, only used as an insult.

Other words people might use for her in the time to denote her as being 'strange' but not necessarily negative might have been (aside from 'strange' and 'odd' that you've already stated): peculiar, eccentric, or unusual. They might use 'queer' as well, as in behaving outside of the norm and not as in gay; that meaning was more by the 1920s.

'Weird' as in "off-puttingly strange" is a more modern word, but it started in the 1820s, so people could conceivably call her weird, especially if they mean to speak ill of her. 'Bizarre' might work, but earlier or in its usage it also had a connotation of unpredictability, too. These two would probably not be used by her family or those who think highly of her, but might be used by people who are fairly neutral on her.

A note on 'moron' and 'imbecile,' which were diagnoses in the early 19th century of intellectual disability but also applied to other people they didn't know how to categorize and could include autistic people: they are definitely used as insults now and were definitely used as insults then when they were diagnoses, but they wouldn't be used on your character because they were not used in that way until the 1910s and 1920s. 'Idiot' is an older word, but it usually was used to refer to people who had more severe intellectual disability; I don't think this would be used for your character much, nor would I recommend it. I don't think it would work to convey what you want the readers to get out of it. Not to mention, it's still very much an insult today.

Now, there's two people from a bit earlier in history who might have been diagnosed as autistic today: Henry Cavendish and Hugh Blair of Borgue. (Obviously we can't know for sure, they've been dead for 200+ years.)

Hugh Blair (wikipedia link) lived from 1708 to 1765. He was described as 'eccentric' and 'daft,' and his behaviors as 'unusual.' He was nicknamed "the daft lad of Borgue." He engaged in a lot of repetitive behaviors, seemed unaware of social norms, and had very strong interests. It's noted that despite being seen as strange, he was generally well-liked.

Henry Cavendish (wikipedia link) lived from 1731 to 1810, so a bit closer to the Victorian era. He was a scientist, a very wealthy man, and notably very shy. He was close basically only to his family, was very solitary, had trouble speaking to others and was noted as wearing old-fashioned clothes. Since he was so solitary, he had trouble publishing his findings, even though he put a lot of work into them. It seems people referred to him as 'solitary' and 'eccentric.'

Some people suggest Emily Dickinson (wikipedia link), who lived from 1830 to 1886, might have been autistic. I am less familiar with her than the above two, but am including her because she is directly in your time period so the way people in her lifetime described her can be relevant. She was very socially isolated, although she was also very affected by deaths around her during her life, and later often ill, which can also be reasons for isolation. She mostly communicated with others via letters in her adulthood. She was seen as an 'eccentric' by others.

I will note that all three of those people were wealthy, so their eccentricities were more tolerated by those around them. A poor person might not have been afforded that second thought.

Now that I've said... all that, I will add my final note:

I think more important than the words themselves is how other characters use the words to describe her.

"Elizabeth is such an odd woman, I should like to write to her and see what she thinks about this" is very different from "Elizabeth is such an odd woman, I can't stand to be around her when she's doing that!" So is "My cousin is a bit peculiar, she does not speak but she can understand you just fine; if you can be patient she will write out her answers" versus "My cousin is incredibly peculiar, she doesn't even speak for goodness's sake! Can you believe it? It's ridiculous."

The way your characters speak about her will not be entirely dependent on the specific words the use, but also in the way they describe her and refer to her. Especially in a time where many things are referred to with euphemisms or vague words (which 'odd' and 'strange' and 'peculiar' definitely are or can be), which the Victorian era absolutely was, both groups of characters can use the same words but their intent can come across due to what else they say about her.

Sorry this is super long, but I hope it helps!

mod sparrow

[alwayssassydreamer]

Good Things Go

A/N: dearest Anna I hope you're happy now because this gave me a lot of headaches 😅, got a little longer than planned

Song Prompt Challenge

Say I hate you when I don't Push you when you get too close Only you can save me from my lack of self-control And I won't make excuses for the pain I caused us both So thank you for always standing by me even though Sometimes bad things take the place where good things go

Summary: you've been working for Crocodile for years now and became his most loyal agent though your recklessness during missions often leads to arguments, things get even more complicated when you realize you've fallen for your boss

Warnings: tension, but actually i don't know what to put here, kissing

Characters: Sir Crocodile x GnReader

Crocodile sat behind his desk, his golden hook resting casually against the edge, his cold eyes studying the papers in front of him. The air was thick with tension, as it always was when you were in the room with him.

He was erratic, not the calm, controlled demeanor you were used to seeing. He was angry, frustrated, and you knew you were at the center of it all.

You had been his loyal agent for years, weathering every storm by his side, even when he pushed you to your limits. But this time, it was different. The unspoken feelings that had lingered between you both for so long had come to the surface, and they were threatening to destroy everything.

You had seen it all—the times he pushed you away, the cruel words that had been spat in your direction. But each time, you stood your ground, never backing down, never leaving. You had always been his, always kept your loyalty intact, no matter the cost. You had been by his side through countless missions, through moments where you both bled, fought, and schemed together.

You never backed down from a challenge, never hesitated when given an order, even if it meant risking your life. But lately, things had felt different. You had begun to notice the sharpness in Crocodile's gaze when it landed on you, the brief moments where his usually composed demeanor cracked, revealing something darker and it unsettled you.

You stood across from him arms crossed, waiting for him to scold or lecture you again. You’d just returned from a mission, and as usual, you had some… differences of opinion regarding the execution of his orders.

"That wasn’t the plan," Crocodile muttered, his voice low but laced with frustration. His eyes narrowed as he glanced up at you. "You’re always improvising, always pushing my limits."

You straightened up, uncrossing your arms with a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "It worked, didn’t it?" you replied, your voice calm but with a sharp edge. "Sometimes a little improvisation is necessary, boss. You can’t always follow the script."

His lips curled into a sneer, his eyes flicking over you in a way that sent an unsettling twinge of awareness through your chest.

He didn’t like your unpredictability. He never had. And yet, despite the clash of personalities, you had remained his most loyal agent. You were good at what you did, and he knew it.

He had never said it aloud, but you could feel the weight of his expectation and his distaste for your constant push against his authority.

He leaned forward, his golden hook tapping rhythmically against the wood of his desk. His gaze was sharp, piercing through you as if he could see straight into your thoughts. "You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?"

You didn’t flinch. "I think I’ve proven that I’m capable. That’s why you keep me around, boss."

His eyes darkened, and for a brief moment, there was something in them - something deeper, more dangerous. "Don’t mistake my tolerance for fondness," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don’t have room for attachments."

You raised an eyebrow, stepping forward slightly, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t afraid of him at least, you didn’t let it show. "Is that so? Because I’m loyal to you, Crocodile. That’s something you can’t seem to shake off, no matter how many times you try to push me away."

For a moment, the silence between you both was palpable, heavy with unspoken words. Crocodile’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching as if to reach for something, something that would silence you.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stood up slowly, towering over you with his usual imposing presence.

"Is that what you think?" he murmured, taking a step toward you. "That I want your loyalty?"

You met his gaze, unflinching. "It doesn’t matter whether you want it or not. I’m here, and I always will be."

His lip curled into a bitter smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You’re a fool."

You weren’t the type to back down. Not from anyone, especially not from him. "I’m no fool, boss. You’ve pushed me to my limits, time and time again. But I stay because I know what we have is more than just loyalty."

His expression hardened at your words. He was silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. And just when you thought he would walk away, dismissing you as he always did, something shifted in his demeanor. His hand reached out - too quickly, too harshly - and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you closer.

"You think I don’t know what you feel?" he hissed, his voice laced with both anger and something else - something you couldn’t quite place. His grip on your wrist tightened as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "You think I don’t know about the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention? The way you linger just a little too long? The way you care too much?"

Your heart raced. He was right. You had tried to hide it, tried to bury the feelings that had grown inside you. feelings that had no place in this world you had chosen to live in. But Crocodile, for all his faults, always saw through you. His sharp mind never missed a thing, not even your most carefully guarded emotions.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice a little shakier than you intended. "Don’t pretend like you don’t care."

For the first time, you saw it a flash of something unreadable in his eyes. It was fleeting, but it was there: the barest hint of vulnerability, quickly masked by the cold indifference that was so characteristic for him. He let go of your wrist and took a step back.

"You think I need you, don’t you?" His voice was colder than ever, as if he were trying to convince himself. "You think that because you’ve stuck around, because you’ve followed orders, that I’m... attached to you."

You didn’t answer him right away, letting the silence linger between you two. Your feelings were complicated, too complicated for words, but it didn’t matter. You had already known, deep down, that he’d never admit to it, and maybe never would you. But you were his. And no matter how far he pushed, no matter how many times he tried to reject you, you wouldn’t leave.

"I don’t need your acknowledgment," you said quietly, your voice steady. "But I won’t abandon you. Not when it matters most."

Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a dark smirk. "You really are a stubborn one."

You smirked back, your gaze never leaving his. "You should know by now, I don’t back down. You always push me away, Crocodile. You tell me you hate me, but it's all just a shield, isn't it? You say things you don’t mean, and I’m the fool who keeps standing by you."

Crocodile’s gaze softened for just a moment, but the harshness quickly returned. He stepped closer again, his voice low and threatening. "I push you because it’s easier than admitting that you’ve somehow become the one thing I can’t control. I push you because I can’t stand the thought of you seeing me as anything more than the monster I’ve become."

Your heart skipped a beat. You had never heard him speak like this before. Never seen this raw, vulnerable side of him. It both terrified you and made you want to reach out to him, to pull him from the darkness he was drowning in.

His golden hook glinted in the dim light, but it was his eyes that held you captive. There was a desperation in them, something that made your pulse quicken, something you hadn’t expected to see.

"I say I hate you when I don’t," he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. "I push you when you get too close. But the truth is… only you can save me from my lack of self-control. And I won’t make excuses for the pain I caused us both."

The words hung in the air like an unsung confession, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Everything that had been left unsaid between you both was finally spilling out, raw and unfiltered. You could see it now - the darkness that had clouded his heart, the fear of being loved, of being wanted, of being needed.

You felt a lump form in your throat, your emotions a tangled mess of longing, frustration, and something deeper

"I stayed," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but strong with the weight of your emotions. "I stayed, not because you need me, but because I need you. And maybe that’s what hurts the most."

For a moment, the harshness between you vanished, replaced by something quieter, more fragile. "I’ve always known," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving yours

You stepped closer, closing the distance between you, your voice soft but unwavering. "Sometimes bad things take the place where good things go," you whispered, your words carrying the weight of everything you had both been through

He moved his hook closer and gently lifted your chin with it uncharacteristically careful not to hurt you. "Thank you," he said, the words strained, as though forcing them past years of hardened pride. "For always standing by me… even when I gave you every reason to leave."

Your breath hitched at the sincerity buried beneath the rough edges of his voice. You had never expected him out of all people to show you such a.....vulnerability.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as he removed his hook from you. "You made it hard, you know that? Pushing me away like I was poison. Acting like I was nothing but a pawn when you damn well knew what I feel for you."

He didn’t flinch at your words. Instead, he nodded, as though agreeing with every accusation you hurled.

Your fingers curled into his coat, pulling him down to meet your gaze. "You’re an insufferable bastard, Crocodile," you murmured, your voice thick with the ache of everything you had endured. "But I stayed. Not because I’m weak, but because I chose to. I choose you—flaws, scars, and all."

"I won’t promise I’ll change," he admitted, his voice low but steady. "I’m still the same ruthless man who’ll destroy anything that stands in my way ."

"I don’t need you to change," you whispered fiercely. "Just let me stand by you. Let me fight beside you, not against you."

You tilted your head slightly, your voice soft but challenging. "What now, boss? Going to push me away again?"

His lips quirked into a dangerous smirk, one that sent a shiver down your spine. "Not this time," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I’ve had enough of that game."

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours, hot, demanding, and unapologetic. The kiss was fierce, a raw clash of wills as much as it was a surrender. He tasted of smoke and danger, a combination that had always drawn you in, even when you knew better.

You matched his intensity, your hands fisting in the fabric of his coat as you pulled him closer. The years of unresolved tension ignited between you, burning away every doubt and hesitation. His hook pressed lightly against your back, the cold metal a stark reminder of just who you were tangling with - a ruthless, dangerous man who had somehow become the center of your world.

Crocodile’s free hand slid down to your waist, gripping you possessively as if staking his claim. His control, usually so unyielding, seemed to fray at the edges as he deepened the kiss, his breath ragged against your lips. You gasped when he pulled back slightly, just enough to speak, his voice full of desire.

"You drive me insane," he growled, his forehead pressing against yours. "Always have."

A breathless laugh escaped you, your heart racing. "Good. Otherwise things would be boring and you know that I don't do boring." You teased.

"You're mine," he declared, his voice rough but resolute. "And I'll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me."

A thrill shot through you at the possessiveness in his tone. But you weren’t intimidated, you never had been. Instead, you met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Damn right I am. And you're mine, you handsome bastard. Don't forget that."

His low chuckle sent a shiver down your spine. "You really are trouble," he murmured, before capturing your lips again in another searing kiss.

[soukokuforthesoul]

chuuya and dazai had always had a habit of getting into constant trouble in the mafia. one of their many antics was disappearing off to nowhere at the most untimely moments, causing much irritation to the others. somehow, they always managed to get away with most things anyway, which fueled their enthusiasm in troublemaking. truly, it was unfortunate to have one of their most skilled duos be a pair of children. but that was exactly what they were—children exposed to a life in the mafia. and even children as strong as chuuya and dazai would still need to seek elsewhere for comfort.

on days like such, where things got overwhelming, chuuya and dazai put a truce to their typical fights and ran away, if only for a couple hours. they had many places to hide—were well practiced in not being found—so with their mutual cooperation, they always managed to stay undiscovered until they returned. sometimes, they found a field far from h.q., tucking themselves in a tree and watching the birds fly by. other times, they scaled an old building and lay on the roof. occasionally, they went through towns window-shopping, or spending all their money on ice cream. but wherever they were, it was only chuuya and dazai, always just two children who were there for each other no matter what anyone said.

there were days where they simply wanted to be alone, leaving for an hour or two with their phones on silent. other days, it was for recovery—trying to get dazai to truly smile, or to get chuuya to forget his worries. sometimes it was pretending that it wasn’t obvious dazai had been crying, instead taking him to an arcade and not saying anything when he lost easily. sometimes it was buying chuuya his favorite snacks, because mentioning how terrible he looked would be shitty of dazai (and he was definitely never shitty). there were days where they hardly spoke, hands clasped together and silently laying out a blanket on the grass. there were also some where speaking had to be ceaseless—because it was all that would keep the mental breakdowns at bay.

they were able to understand what the other needed immediately, so that with even just a single glance, they had already disappeared. days like these were days neither kouyou or mori bothered trying to find them anymore, because they’d learned that they would come back regardless. (and, though neither admitted it out loud, it was relieving to see them return looking much happier than before).

[spaceorphan18]

Any thoughts on Chris’s latest interview??

I assume you mean this one?

I have not watched it so.... let's live blog, shall we?

I appreciate that he got his hair to stand up on all sides. Looking good Chris ;)

Basics on Chris? I totally guessed his expertise would be related to the paranormal. I completely forgot about the British History love of his, so I'm so not surprised there.

I really was waiting with baited breath to hear if he'd say llamas were his least favorite animal, lol. (Oh god, a lot of you weren't around when he claimed he liked llamas because he said he was a social llama and ended up getting a room full of stuffed llams, lol)

Oh my god, off of Diet Coke? What even?? Also, guys. Don't kill me. Don't revoke my Chris fan card. While I'm glad that he went back into acting - I have no desire to see that film he just made. It sounds like... not my cup of tea. (sorry :( )

The 'who are you' quiz section was super cute. I do love that he gives us little bits into his daily live and world and something that has just not changed is his sharp wit. I have always been a fan of his humor.

Chris's high school experience - I mean he's talked about this a lot over the years. A lot. But the thing that sticks out is this evolution of being okay with it. When he was first on Glee - it was STILL a big trauma. Which makes sense because instead of going to college, Chris went straight from HS to Glee, and omg, what an insane thing to do.

The getting into Glee stuff is... stuff I've heard before. But always glad to hear him speak on it, and again, glad he's in such a better place in life that he can reflect without the being traumatized part. The stuff about his current auditioning is interesting. He admits he doesn't really anymore unless he really wants to... and I'm guessing not really much has come his way that he really wants to do. I have a feeling that he probably won't do a whole ton of acting moving forward, but you never know.

Chris talking about his coming out on Chelsea Handler, lol... I love that he can reflect about being 18, and how differently choices are made when you're that young. But I also love (and get, and my god sometimes still I remember why he's the only celebrity whom I've ever felt was actually a bit like me in thought process) the fact that he was like - I'm gonna try to do this once and never deal with it again. And have it, like, become a bigger ordeal than he could have ever imagined.

I love though, also, that his story is also being contextualized through a queer lens. And, I mean, I felt this way when he was talking with Kevin about their joint experiences -- I'm so, so glad Chris has these queer spaces to have these conversations, because there's a level of knowledge and awareness and perspective you don't get from straight media.

(He took his shoes off, how cute, lol. Also this interview knows, like, nothing about Glee. Fascinating.)

"I would rather be the unicorn in the room than the elephant." -CHRISTOPHER!!! This quote is fantastic.

Getting into the conversation of activism, and how queer culture and community was still very different back in 2009-10 then it is now. And I mean, it's come a long LONG way since I was in high school back in the 90s. We've come a long way in the past fifteen years, even if the asshats in charge are trying to push everyone back to the 50s (or really the 30s :P) Anyway, some great queer history embedded in this.

The conversation about fame being his protection back then is fascinating. Also, how he calls himself ugly (back then). Oh Christopher.

He talked to Shirley MacClaine about aliens. Because of course he did. I love him.

OOhhh, Chris loved every guest star except for one. Any guesses who? (Honestly - I have no idea. so this is a fascinating new tidbit. Perez Hilton? Lol - Chris didn't work him though.)

Also more interesting things to think about - Chris getting a lot of the spotlight early on created resentment. (I wonder if it was Lea... Hmmm.)

Mr - I'm never getting married - actually mentioned that at some point he and Will probably will get married. Don't know if that was kind of a deflection from this dude assuming or if he's changed his mind. But, I mean, c'mon, in any capacity we all know he and Will consider each other done and locked in for life, which Chris basically confirms. (Awww - I love Will.)

Oh god, talking about the tinhatters. Chris, thank fuck for finally talking about this more openly and explicitly. And guys, I told you. I TOLD YOU that this shit happened.

THE HAIR STORY! HE'S TELLING THE HAIR STORY! No, guys, this was almost like urban legend stuff, but yeah, there were rumored instances of people sending hair to Will (and to Mia) and he actually talks about this. Oh my god, I'm laughing (though my god this was not funny at the time)

Oh, god, he thinks there were 100,000 CCers. No. There weren't. That seems too high. The people who were actually crazy were a very, very small number -- who made an unfortunately huge impact.

Oh. God. Also. He is NOT talking about Darren when he talks about people who are still in the closet. He's just not.

Oh for the love of fuckery, this host is just... he had to take a college course to discover fanfiction? C'mon.

Ah, the awkward conversation of celebrities reading fanfic. I wish this conversation would be had with someone who understood it better. Honestly do not like this host's summation of it because -- not just as someone who reads and writes it, but as someone who understands it's influence on published writing and understands its relevance in women's circles, this is a much deeper conversation and this host makes it feel trivialized (because they don't understand it).

Also - I wonder what Chris read, great abs and about cats? lol.

STOP FUCKING CALLING ANY KIND OF QUEER FANFIC SLASH FIC. It's old school term. Now it's just... fanfic. You no longer need to qualify the fic by saying it's slash.

This host is... bugging me a bit. But that's my issue.

They're getting into the writer portion and as a writer myself I'm... honestly a little bored by this. The TLOS convo he's had a million times. He's also talked about his process a lot, which idk, maybe this is more interesting to non-writers but like, yeah, yup, i've been there done that.

Aww, Chris talking about his anxiety issues - I do always love hearing about this, because I feel like mental health issues don't get addressed in the way should.

Um, they end on a section called 'fight me' where Chris debates a position - and his is that only queer actors should play queer roles. I... think that's a nuanced question that deserves more than a 60 second watered down debate and I'm not going to touch it.

And.. yeah, that's what I have to say about that. It's nice to hear from Chris again, so glad he's so much more open about his life and experiences. If I'm being honest, though, I think I do kind of value the conversations more so when he has them with, say, Kevin and Jenna, because there's something more personal going on there.

But that's just me - someone who has followed Chris and his career for, my god, what sixteen years now? Yeah. :)

Hopefully that answers your question, Nonny! lol :)

[blu3-ja3]

Chapter 7

Bruce's POV

I think I'm alive, it's hard for me to tell. I can't see, I can see my body but even that is hard to see. Dark greys and black merging into the darkness around me. The only way I can tell if my eyes are open is if I look down but after sometime I have to blink or else everything just fades. I know my body is there but it'll slowly drift to the background almost, it won't be at the forefront of my vision.

I'm breathing or I think I am, there's not really air it's just stagnant. No breeze, no outside sound the only thing I hear is my heart beating. I can't even tell if I'm floating or falling, no up or down. I'm surrounded by nothing. I remember reading about people who stayed in sensory deprivation for too long or the people who stayed in the world's quietest room. I wonder how long before I start being affected by my own mind?

It comes sooner than I thought because I swear there's a face of a woman in the shadows. It's uncanny how clearly I can see her but not what she looks like. I feel nauseous for a moment as I hear a faint whisper of something. I realize a little later that the face is moving, like she's talking but I can't hear anything.

Then the hallucinations become more vivid, I see a small speck of light growing bright and more defined. It's a humanoid and they're moving closer. They're feminine in their features, curly hair and a familiar face, Jillian Rodriguez. She comes closer and closer, for the first time since appearing here there's a change. It gets warmer as Jillian approaches.

The first change leads to a cascade of changes, I can see color where once there wasn't. I can hear distant echoes and voices in a language I don't understand, and I can feel that there's no air in my lungs. I can feel myself suffocating.

The girl drifts to my side and reaches with both hands and places one on the center of my chest and upper back. There's a flash of searing hot energy that pulses through me as my lungs suddenly pull in air. Another pulse and the voices begin to focus and become clear words. Another pulse and I realize what happened to cause the hand shaped burns on the younger girls.

"Enough child, he is alive now," I hear a woman's voice call out there's layers to it like millions of people whispering every word she speaks.

"It felt different, why?" Jillian's voice rings out but it's centralized around her not like the other voice.

"Because his body is here, that is why I forced you to move so quickly. He was running out of time but you stopped the clock," a face begins to form from nowhere then slowly becomes something faceless with no real features. In an odd way it reminds me of my mother...

"I'm flattered child, your mother was a kind woman." I watch as for the briefest moment the featureless face morphs into that of my mother's, then my father's and then back to nothing.

"I've done that before right? Stopped the other girls from whatever was about to happen to him," She doesn't know, of course she doesn't know what's happened to them.

"In a sense, yes," that's ominous, does this thing know what happened...

"What does that mean? Wait don't go!" The face slowly starts to disappear, fading away into the darkness around it. The whispering also follows slowly fading into nothing.

Shit this is unpleasant, all of it. I'm not even sure how to help myself out of this let alone Jillian's soul. I'm guessing this is her soul it looks similar to the one I followed hours ago but there's something different. I can't figure out what it is though, it may just be the environment we're in.

Jillian isn't looking at me, her eyes stay fixed on a certain point like she sees something I don't. Maybe she does I'm not entirely sure how different a soul is compared to a body. Jillian's eyes snap to something above me, and I follow her eye line.

Above me are multiple golden strands that drift and swirl around, some drift off into different directions than the other. Some disappear into nothing while others stretch on for miles, I can't see the end. Looking back down there's a small silver thread that's drifting behind Jillian, it's choppy and fragmented and almost too faint to see.

There's another smaller thread drifting in front of Jillian, it's more prominent going from silver to gold. Following the thread I realize it drifts up and connects with my chest. Jillian doesn't seem to notice it's even there too focused on the threads above me. The young girl suddenly drifts up and reaches out only to hesitate for a moment.

"What's wrong?" I ask seeing clear conflict on Jillian's face. Whatever was causing conflict she seems to resolve because she reaches out and touches a thread.

There's a faint glow from where she touches it that travels through the thread, when it reaches me there's a surge of warmth in my chest and memories of Dick begin to appear in my head. Odd, but not unpleasant. Jillian seems satisfied with something and turns to me.

"Okay Batman, you wanna get out of here?" It takes me a moment to realize that I'm still in my Batman suit and that I am indeed still wearing my cowl. I give a simple nod and the teen smiles at me.

We follow a particular strand for a while,l in the process of traveling I learn that all these different threads are connected to a different individual that I know in my life. There's one for every JL member, one for each of my children and their friends. There's ones for different rouges and villains that I've encountered and civilians that I've saved.

Jillian says the more prominent the string the closer they are. It's like a live wire system of every person I've ever met and as we move I watch it spread and grow. We're following a large cluster of strings, Jillian is keeping a finger on one strand in particular; Dick's. Eventually the end began to appear, it just stopped like it's been cut, there are other strings around it.

As I look I can see my children and their friends, I can see Alfred, Selina and Constantine. As I look closer at one it's strange, like Jillian's it's choppy and fragmented but not silver in color. Roy, Tim, and Lian's threads are all nearby. As I move closer to inspect I know who it belongs to; Jason.

"Okay I think I can get us out of here but I need you to stay in one spot," I looked over to where Jillian is floating.

She's at the very end of Dick's thread, reaching up with one hand she touches something and for a moment I can see Dick, wearing his Nightwing suit. Her other hand reaches out and touches the center of his back and the image becomes more clear. He's talking, gesturing like he does when he's stressed. His brow is furrowed and face pulled into a grimace.

There's a flash of gold as a thread moves and joins the group of threads surrounding Dick. I look closer and see that it's Zatanna's thread. It drifts closer to Constantine's thread.

My attention is drawn back to Jillian as something flashes, looking at the girl her eyes glow a bright purple. She moves both her hands together and clasp them together before moving them to her chest. There's a rush of whispers that echo the words Jillian speaks, it's again in the strange language from before.

Jillian's focus snaps to me bathing me in a purple glow. Moving suddenly the girl is right in front of me, her hands still clasped together. Slowly she opens them and a rift begins to form, it's not jagged and ripped like the others. It's like a perfect door opening, through it I can see the back of my oldest son still wearing his vigilante suit. The door grows and becomes fully formed.

Suddenly Jillian's hand reaches through it and pulls me forwards causing me to tip over and fall through. I land harshly onto the metal floor of the batcave, causing a bit of air pushed out of my lungs. Rolling over I watch as the visage of Jillian steps out of the doorway and glides calmly away towards the infirmary. Her eyes are still glowing the same purple.

"Well, that saves us a trip doesn't it love?"

Time Skip!

Jillian's POV

I'm so tired of waking up in pain it's been like this for almost two weeks, as my eyes open I'm in a hospital...Odd, I can hear the beeping of machines and I can feel the slightest pinching pulling pain as I move my arm. I look to see I'm hooked up to an IV bag as well as a monitor of sorts.

I let my head drop back down against the pillow of the hospital bed, I cringe a little at the feeling of my own hair. I can feel the dirt and grime caked into it, my body feels a little better but not by a lot. I'm also starving and thirsty, quickly I checked and I can feel my feet, legs and toes wiggle.

The door to my hospital room opens and a woman in blue scrubs walks in pushing a small cart with a large basin and several rags and sponges. She freezes when she sees that I'm awake, before I can say anything she's out the door again.

I learned I was comatose for a week and a half, the doctor said it was a miracle I even woke up let alone spoke and moved relatively fine. I'm being released with everything paid for along with a wheelchair to help me get around while I rebuild my strength.

I also learned that the Wayne's had covered all medical expenses and apparently Timothy Drake-Wayne was a frequent visitor to my room. How nice? I don't really care for the gossip, I'm thankful for the money and I'll tell Tim that when I see him again.

It was an awkward ordeal to learn that the clothes that were brought in with me didn't belong to me. Not that I said as much I refused to go home in only a thin piece of paper they call a medical smok. Getting out of the hospital was its own little disaster because they had to call GCPD to sign off as a legal guardian.

Thankfully the man who came Commissioner Gordon was nice enough to offer me a ride back home, while driving he informed me about the open investigation against my sister and her boyfriend... It was awkward sitting in the back seat and driving into Park Row but I'll deal with whatever flak I get for that later. For now I just want to get home and take a shower. The Commissioner saw it fit to escort me to my apartment door as well.

The elevator was thankfully working today, I clicked the button for the third floor and waited patiently. The elevator dinged open and I pushed myself out and turned immediately to my right to go down the hall. I stopped pushing for a moment at the sight down the hall from me.

Standing in front of my door was my neighbor's daughter, she was talking to a man who I couldn't recognize from here. Pushing my wheelchair closer I caught Maria's eyes, instantly her face fell and my stomach opened into a pit.

"Oh Jill, I'm so sorry sweetie," Maria pushed past the man and came closer to me. Please just let Ms. Gonzalez be in the hospital again or maybe Maria finally convinced her to go into assisted living and she moved.

"Why-" My throat tightened as I fought back tears, she was fine. Abuela was fine, "Abuela's fine right?"

I swallowed a cry as Maria shook her head, I closed my eyes and let my head tip back again my wheelchair. I'm going to regret asking this question but I have to know.

"How?" Maria said she'd tell me but only once I was inside, showered and ate. I let Maria push my wheelchair the rest of the way to my apartment.

The man who Maria was talking to was on the phone with someone before quickly ending the call to talk to Commissioner Gordon. I vaguely recognize him as Bruce Wayne and only just noticed Tim with him. I didn't even bother asking questions just let myself be guilded into the empty apartment before moving myself to my room.

I grabbed a change of clothes that would be easy to change into and quickly shower or as quickly as I could give I can't really stand for to long without my legs giving out. I feel a little better with clean hair and clothes, opening the bathroom door the smell of bread and cheese waffed through the air. Maria made me chicken soup and a grilled cheese, well more like she brought over leftovers when she realized I had no food in the kitchen.

"Where's Queenie?" I asked as I haven't heard her call out the entire time I've been back, and usually Queenie is a very vocal ball of black fluff.

"She's with us," I look up to see both the Wayne's sitting on the couch in the tiny living room alongside a woman in a very fancy business suit and the commissioner still here.

"Oh, um thank you," I say half cutting myself off as I stuff my face full of grilled cheese and soup.

It's exactly what I need and Maria is kind enough to make me another grilled cheese that I also polish off. I don't particularly care that there's multiple people watching me eat. Once finished and satisfied I started to move towards the couch, Maria helps me and sits down next to me.

"First I want to know what happened to Abuela Gonzalez," I look straight to Maria.

Maria sighs and tells me how Ms. Gonzalez had passed while I was in the hospital. She was in the kitchen making her weekly batch of bread and tortillas when she had a sudden heart attack. She passed within moments and was found by Maria a few hours later. Maria informs me that I missed the funeral but that I was left with a few things in the will and they were waiting for me.

Maria excused herself to go get said items to get and bring them over. Calming myself and turning my attention to the other group of people in my apartment. I really didn't know why they were here but they are. The woman spoke first.

"Ms. Rodriguez, I'm sorry for your loss," The woman starts off, she moves herself a little closer to the edge of the couch as she talks.

"Thank you, why are you here. Who are you?" I asked, I'm trying to keep my tone polite but I know my smile is definitely tired.

"Well I'm your new social worker, it's come to light that your previously assigned worker wasn't doing his job very well," I couldn't help but roll my eyes, I really was too tired for this.

"I'll cut to the chase, your sister is no longer in a position to keep custody of you," I nod know a little from what Gordon told me, "because of this you are going into foster care-"

"However I'm to take temporary custody of you and allow you a space near home," Bruce cuts in, he smiles as he continues, "I know it's a bit odd but..." Bruce trails off after that.

"It would be short-term, only until the court case is resolved. Unless of course something happens," the social worker continues.

"Court case?" I look at the three adults in the room, making sure my confusion is clear.

"We'll discuss that in a moment, what do you say Jillian? Regarding Mr. Wayne getting temporary custody." I look around me at the nothing that has been my life and shrugged.

"It can't be any worse than this place," Tim looks to his dad immediately and Bruce looks at me.

"If it's alright, my kids are here to help pack your room. I know it's sudden but sadly this apartment is no longer yours or your sister's. I've done what I can but they want you out as quickly as possible..." I kinda nod dumbfounding but I'm not surprised. Mr. Jenkins has always been a tool so of course he wants me out as soon as possible.

Tim hops up off the couch, pulling out his phone and tapping something onto the screen. I kinda sit there confused about what just happened when my attention is drawn to the Commissioner who moves to sit where Tim was.

"There was an investigation done against your sister and her boyfriend. There was a lot of evidence and because of that we were able to take it to court quickly," Gordon starts, he's staring at his hands which are clasped together.

"We weren't expecting you to wake up anytime soon but you have, because of this I'd like to know if you'd be willing to testify against Grace and Daniel?" The Commissioner meets my eyes and oh boy is this all overwhelming.

"I can try, I'm not promising anything right now," I see Bruce nodding his head with an impressed look on his face.

"I appreciate how forthright you are Ms. Rodriguez, truly. I've already discussed with Bruce about having you come down to the station to give a statement and answer some questions," Gordon nods over to Bruce who simply smiles politely at me.

"I don't expect you to go right away, I'd hope to let you settle down first and let you get your bearings. I will say I've taken the liberty to hire a trusted friend of mine to be your lawyer, she'll represent you fiercely I can promise that," Bruce yet again flashes a kind smile to me and I find myself taken aback at the sudden kindness.

"Why'd you do it?" The question slips from my mouth before I have the chance to stop it, to filter it out.

"I'm not sure what you're asking me exactly," Bruce tilted his head to the side, confusion painting his face.

"Why help me? The hospital bill, the fostering, now a lawyer, why help me? I'm sure you'll get some brownie points with the press but this is a little much," I can't stop the words now that the gates have been open.

"Ms. Rodriguez! That is incredibly rude! Apologize-" my social worker was chastising me but stopped when Bruce held up a hand. Still smiling kindly.

"It's alright honestly. Truth be told I'm doing this mostly for Tim's sake, he was quite shaken when he learned of your disappearance," Bruce's voice becomes soft and kind as he talks about his son, I feel myself flush with embarrassment.

"Ah! I'm sorry Mr. Wayne, I-" Bruce holds up a hand and again smiles softly.

"Bruce is fine and it's alright, you've had a rough time recently so I don't blame you for having your guard up," He says before I can respond there's a knock at the front door before it opens.

Six figures walk in, two girls and four boys. The youngest is carrying a small animal carrier crate. Almost instantly I hear the familiar trill of my baby.

"Queenie!"

Part 1 /// Previous /// Next

Cursed Gotham Masterpost

[whereserpentswalk]

There's a room somewhere. Or perhaps everywhere. You can reach it from anywhere in the world but it requires a very specific set of motions to get to. The Greeks said that it's true location was exactly between the moon and the sun, and the way for the gods to test our intellects. In the middle ages they said it was the one place that neither Christ nor Satan knew. In the early modern period people started saying it wasn't real.

It's a single white room. Small but not too small. There's a table with too chairs, and a glass wall cutting the room in half, with the table split, and each chair on another side. There's holes to talk through the glass but they're too small to pass objects through. And ever so often, someone from an alternate universe will walk into the other side.

There can never be more then two people in the room at the same time, the mechanics will just put you in another copy of the room if you try. And you can never end up on the same side of the room as the second person. The other person can be from any alternate universe. The glass cannot be broken, and you'll understand the language of the other person. People have tried to break the rules and faced consequences from whatever entity owns the room.

Sometimes the person on the other side will be similar to the people from your world, so similar you might never be able to find out how your worlds differ, or if you find out it will be so mundane and local you won't really care. Other times you'll see someone from a completely alternate history, different cultures, entirely alien forms of technology, or vastly different societies. People have reported seeing 21st century Roman Imperials, or post nuclear survivors, or cyborgs, or people with steam powered technology, or living technology. There are even more dubious rumors of nonhuman intelligences, androids, or sapient dinosaurs, or technologically advanced Neanderthals.

A lot of people come to the room to try to find out as much they can about the civilization before them. They'll try to ask as many questions to know what they can about the alternate earths. "If the soviet union never fell what happened to Latin America?" "Are there any major cities left after the plague?" "Did your civilization ever reach the moon?" "Why did you get to have a Mars colony so soon when you didn't even invent the internet?" "How does the internet work in a feudal society?" "How does that machine you're wearing on your wrist work?" "If you're an android how do you reproduce?" "What's it like living in a world without sex or children?" "If your timeline diverged from mine in 1989, did they ever make star wars prequels?" Normal questions.

But there's always a problem. Because you can never find out everything. You have to leave the room at some point to eat or to sleep, and when you do you'll never be able to talk to that person again unless you get luckier then probably would ever allow you to account for. The only person from that civilization you'll ever talk to will be gone to you in a relatively short amount of time whatever you do. You can ask a thousand questions, but there will always be more, and there will always be things that you forgot to ask.

Some people just go to the room for someone to talk to. To ask about their day, and ask them about theirs. To bounce ideas off of a neutral party. To debate. Occasionally people will use it as a way of testing out their manuscript. The room has had a non zero rate of sexual harassment, though people's ability to just walk away has mitigated it. Occasionally people come to the room to try to convert people to their religion, at least one of our world's major religions started that way.

Sometimes people use the room to be exceedingly cruel. They will tell people the worst insults. Argue with them. Claim their civilization's superiority. It's rare, but occasionally it happens. When you know you'll never see someone again, you can do anything. It's surprisingly rare that people use that for cruelty, but it's still something that people do.

Sometimes people make genuine freinds in the room. Talk to people they meet there for hours upon hours. Meet people who they had wished they knew their entire life, the type of person you never knew you needed but you know that you have to have. There are even some cases of people falling in love with the person on the other side of the room. And they'll always want to give them a contact, or plan to meet again, but they'll know they can't. And as the hours click on they'll slowly realize the tragedy that they're experiencing, that they'll never see the person across from them again, that they always knew it, and how it kills them inside.

[sunshinesickies]

Not proof read. Just wanted to get something out for the last day of Feveruary. Don’t worry I will catch up to the days I missed. Been a hell of a couple weeks, but hopefully life will smooth out enough soon for me to have some actual time to write! For now enjoy this fic of Vi on her period and Cait fussing over her. Based on two requests I had in my inbox for Vi on her period, one request by 🧸anon and another anon request. (Also I’ll add a picture later)

Feveruary Day 28— “Well it sounds to me like you need a bit of TLC”— CaitVi/Violyn

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence and prison

“Shit again?!” Vi groans as she curls into herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her abdomen. A uncomfortable pain was shooting through her once again and it made her simultaneously nauseous and incredibly irritated. She hasn’t felt like this in, well, years.

Vi tries to think back to when she last had her period only to come up with nothing. She’d been 15 when she was unjustifiably taken to Stillwater, so she’d known about and gotten them for a while. She can remember getting them a few times in prison, but she doesn’t want to think about that.

When you’re in a place like that, there was nothing provided to women during their cycles, only what they could scrap up, and even so, showing any sort of weakness usually meant you were to be beaten to a pulp later. But after her first few months there’s…nothing. She can’t recall having it again.

So yeah, periods in prison sucked, though Vi doesn’t understand why her cramps feel so bad this time. Maybe because they were often drowned out by the stinging pain of the guards’ sticks against her body, or maybe its because she’s grown a little weaker now that she’s living a cushy life in Kiramman estate.

Either way. This fucking sucks. Vi moans again as a fresh wave of cramps shoot through her. Her head is thumping, her body aches and she wants nothing more than for this to be over. Sometimes she hates being a woman.

Currently Vi is curled up on a cozy bed she found in one of the Kirammean’s smaller guest rooms. Yeah. Guest rooms. Plurals. She supposes this is one time she doesn’t think they’re a waste of space.

She’s trying to both hide from her girlfriend and from her own misery. If she could just fall asleep then maybe she could wake up and feel better, sleep off the rest of the pain. But every time she gets close to sleep, some random symptom (usually more cramps) keeps her up.

She knows she probably shouldn’t be hiding this from Caitlyn, but she can’t help it. Vi hates feeling weak. And right now she’s pretty sure she can’t even stand which is pissing her off to no end.

Taking in a calming breath, something Caitlyn has been having her work on whenever she gets frustrated, she squeezes her eyes shut tightly and tries counting as a way to distract herself.

She’s not sure how much time has passed, nor what time it even is. She’d woken up in the morning feeling terrible and somehow gotten herself out of the room without waking Cait up. The curtains in the guest room are drawn closed so tightly that the only light comes from the crack under the door to the hallway.

A gentle creak and the sound of soft footsteps soon pull Vi from her thoughts and she stiffens, hoping not to be found. She knows those steps.

“Violet? Are you in her darling?” Caitlyn’s gentle voice calls a second later and judging by the tone of her voice, Vi knows there’s no use to keep hiding. Plus her girlfriend’s voice was so soft, so warm, that Vi wishes she could sink into its invisible embrace.

“mmno.” Vi murmurs into the pillow she’s clutching and her body softens slightly when she hears an amused chuckle come from across the room.

“Vi? What are you doing in here?” Caitlyn makes her way over to the bed, squinting her good eye to try and make out Vi’s form curled up on the mattress. “Took me ages to find you.” She added, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Kinda the point.” Vi grumbled before curling more into herself with a slight wince, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by her attentive girlfriend.

“Are you alright, are you sick?” Caitlyn worries, a small crease forming between her brows.

“Mmfine.” Vi answers but Caitlyn doesn’t buy it for a second. “Vi.” She presses gently but in her no nonsense manner and Vi sighs deeply.

“On my fucking period. Don’t ’member it sucking this much.” She complains even though she hates admitting it. Caitlyn gives a sympathetic hum. “Poor love. Why didn’t you tell me, we’ve got painkillers and pretty much anything else you need.” She offers softly and the thought of having such access to these basic things makes Vi blink rapidly before any betraying tears can slip out.

“Don’t need ‘em. Please don’t make a fuss, Cait. Been through worse.” She answers curtly before she can break down. Caitlyn is slightly taken aback by the sharpness of her tone and she takes a breath, softening her response in her mind before her answers.

“I wont fuss, Vi, and I know you have but…well it sounds to me like you need a little TLC. Let me help? Please.” Caitlyn hums gently as she tucks a strand of hair away from Vi’s eyes.

“Okay…I guess it’d be nice to not feel this sucky.” Vi begrudgingly agrees and Caitlyn frowns as she cups Vi’s face. She isn’t overly warm but there’s some sweat around her temples that lets her know she really is miserable. Plus if she’s agreeing to take meds, Caitlyn knows she’s feeling worse off than she wants to let on. Sure periods are the worst, but Vi’s never mentioned having symptoms this bad, but come to think of it, she can’t remember Vi ever mentioning her period even though they’ve been together a few months now.

“Violet?” An inquiry strikes her attention. Vi hums for her to continue. “When was the last time you had your period?” She asks gently, curiously. Vi shrugs as she begins to sit up, groaning as she moves.

“Dunno…years, maybe?” Her response has Caitlyn completely taken aback this time. “That’s—well that’s interesting. I wonder if your body has been in too much stress for so long that it hasn’t had one, and now that you aren’t constantly watching your back or trying to just survive, that it’s hit you again with full force and then some.” She rambles her idea out loud and honestly, that makes sense to Vi.

She just wishes it weren’t so painful and annoying. “Well it better not be like this every month.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, Vi. Is there anything I can do to help?” Caitlyn hums and Vi looks up to meet her concerned, loving gaze.

“Maybe for now…could you just be with me?” Vi almost whispers, her tone bordering shy in a way that tugs at Caitlyn’s heart.

“Of course my love. There’s no where else I’d rather be. Come here, we can lay here for a bit, but soon I do think it best to get some meds in you.” She tries and Vi nods as Caitlyn moves to sit behind her. Vi settles closely into her girlfriend’s loving arms and for a moment, all the pain dissolves as she sinks into her hold. Caitlyn now has one hand slipped under her shirt, resting on her stomach as she traces soothing circles to her skin. Her other hand finds it way to Vi’s soft pink hair, her nails gently scratching her head.

“Thanks, cupcake.” Vi hums contentedly, the two comforting sensations quickly lulling her into a state of bliss. “Always, love.” Caitlyn leans down to press a kiss to her plush pink lips.

It doesn’t take long for Vi to finally fall asleep, feeling cozy and relaxed in her girlfriend’s loving hold. Periods be damned…though maybe it isn’t so bad. As long as Caitlyn is by her side, Vi feels as she can get through anything.

[loverducky]

tryouts | oliver aiku x gn!reader | 1.5k

suggestive (kink discussion, bondage and petplay mentioned) with some grinding + praise at the end, i’m tagging dubcon because oliver just kinda jumps into it, reader’s a little insecure, a lot oblivious, and is implied to be more on the inexperienced side, oliver’s like. a soft tease in this ngl, this is Very selfship coded and based on this post, sorrgy not sorrgy :3

“so, whaddya think about being tied up?”

you and oliver are lounging about on the old couch you’ve got in your apartment. you lean forwards and grab your soda, half shrugging, “sounds fun to me! not a huge fan of those, like, metal handcuffs, they don’t look very comfortable, but rope and all that’s cool! shibari’s pretty too, although i don’t think i’d have the patience for it.”

you rest your face on your hand as you lean on the couch arm, cheek squishing a bit as you ask, “what about you? you got any fantasies about being tied up?”

he laughs, shaking his head, and you crack a smile when you notice how grown out the green is. “i’m more of the type to be doing the tying,” he says, shooting you a lopsided smirk, and you consider this with another sip, setting the can down on the table.

“huh. neat!” is your conclusion, and there’s a slight lull in the conversation as oliver stares at you. you tilt your head at him, curious, and he laughs again, quieter this time. weird.

“oh,” another thought occurs to you, “what‘s your opinion on petplay? ‘cause of the leash and all.” you gesture to your neck.

his smile turns cocky at that, and he leans in closer. “why, you trying to collar me?” he asks, voice low, and you turn to glare at him, fist raising in the air.

to his credit, he backs up in an instant, his hands held high like you’re holding him hostage. “woah, woah, woah, i’m kidding, i’m kidding,” he flashes a quick grin, “or am i?”

you roll your eyes and let your fist drop, going to grab your drink again, using it to gesture at oliver. “yeah, yeah. that’s not an answer, bitch.”

his arms drop to rest on the back of the couch, fingers tapping to an internal beat as he thinks. “sure, yeah, i think it’s pretty cute. sometimes they get all whiny, and that’s fun—”

you choke in the middle of chugging the rest of your soda, and you see his eyes flash towards you as you curl in on yourself. he scoots closer and pats you on the back while you hack away, his hand warm as he rubs circles into your shoulder blade. he grabs you some napkins from the table too, passing them over so you can wipe your mouth. when you finally straighten up, he leans back, smirking at you a little. you can only meet his gaze for a second before it drops to the floor, and suddenly sheepish, you mumble, “sorry bout that. wasn’t expecting you to bring up— well. you know.”

he nudges your thigh with his own, his voice teasing as he asks, “weren’t expecting me to bring up personal experience?”

“well, i mean,” you feel your body flush, and your shoulders hunch as you curse yourself internally. “i’ve told you this before, i know i have. haven’t i?”

your leg bounces in place as you continue to ramble. “it’s just that. well. i haven’t… god. okay.” you take a deep breath. inhale, exhale. “so, full disclosure. i haven’t really tried a lot of the things that i say i’m into? i guess it’s more like… i like the idea of that stuff?” your voice gets even quieter than before, “like, i, um. get off? to it?”

you’re not even sure if oliver hears those last bits. when you get the courage to look back up at him, though, he’s staring at you with a quiet intensity, a small smile playing at his lips that makes your gut twist in knots.

“something funny about that, asshole?” you clear your throat, trying to ease some of the tension that’s built up all of a sudden. “because i swear—”

“you interested in trying it?” oliver interrupts, and your mind blanks, your brow furrowing.

“trying… what?”

“petplay. or bondage.” your jaw drops a little and he laughs, not unkindly. “or anything else you think you might be into.”

you shut your mouth in a frown, kicking him lightly in the ankle. “very funny, you dick. there’s a reason i haven’t, you know.” you sigh dramatically, slumping over his lap with your full weight. you close your eyes, placing the back of your hand against your forehead as if you’ve fainted, and say, “not all of us are six foot tall football players with beautiful thighs.” your free hand pats them for emphasis, but with your eyes closed, you miss the flush of color that rises to his ears.

after a few long moments of silence, you peer through splayed fingers to see oliver looking down at you, that same soft smile on his face. he’s handsome, you think, reaching up to caress him, feeling the stubble scattered across his jawline. he lets you for a bit, before his hand grabs yours and guides it close, and you blink up at him in confusion as a gentle kiss is pressed to your wrist. you feel a wicked edge to his smile curl against your skin, then, and before you can tug it back into yourself, your arm is pinned high above your head.

oliver pulls his legs out from under you, and your second arm quickly joins the first, his body settling above your own with a practiced ease. you squirm in his grip, but he’s got you pinned against the couch, a knee between your legs and a smug look in his eyes. he leans down and you let out a little whine as he grinds his knee right where you want it, lust pooling between your thighs as your whole body shakes underneath him.

“well, would you look at that.” his voice drips with satisfaction, his eyes roving up and down your body appreciatively, and you bite back another embarrassing noise. “seems you do like being restrained, hm?”

you open your mouth to answer, only for your words to die with another half choked gasp as he grinds his knee into you again. his breath fans against your neck as he settles into the crook of it, alternating between soft kisses and tiny, nipping bites, and you feel like you’re losing your mind from how good everything feels. he’s got you by the wrists, his hold steady and warm and immovable, and at this point your hips are practically moving on their own, desperate for relief.

it doesn’t help that oliver won’t shut the fuck up. “-so cute like this, you know? always so loud, so brash, but all you wanted was a little attention, hm?” you feel the rumble of his laughter more than you hear it, feel it alongside the gentle scratching of his stubble, and you want to sob — from pleasure or relief, you’re not sure. “it’s alright, baby, you’ve got it, now. whatever you want, whatever you want to try, i’m right here, promise.”

your hands flex under oliver’s grip, and you whine again, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. your hips continue to buck against the sturdiness of his thigh, and you can pull yourself together just enough to whimper out a little “please.”

even you aren’t sure what you’re begging for, but when he lifts his head from where’s he’s been terrorizing your neck, the sheer lust in his eyes makes you shrink away from his attention. it’s too late, though. he rubs a little circle on your wrist with his thumb, before he switches his grip, holding both your wrists with one hand, the other guiding you by the chin to tilt your head into his. when he leans in and presses his lips to yours, it’s chaste at first, to your surprise, although your eyes still flutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours.

his free hand wanders down, down from your chin, down your chest and below your waistline, and oliver’s kiss gets greedier as it travels closer to where you need it, eventually swallowing your cries whole when finally, finally, he’s reached between your thighs.

the direct stimulation is too much, too fast, too quickly. oliver’s good, even when working with just one hand, and within the next minute the coil within you snaps. you stay there shuddering beneath oliver’s body for a while, him releasing his grip on your wrists and you clinging to him in turn. when you think you’ve settled enough, oliver sits up, grinning at you like a madman.

you, on the other hand, scowl at him and punch him in the arm on your way up, crossing your arms and huffing. “you dick! have you just been trying to get in my pants this whole time?”

he shrugs at you, cocky half grin still clear as day.

“unbelievable. this isn’t happening again,” you poke him hard in the chest, “you hear me?”

“sure, baby,” he says, easy as anything, and you already feel your heart start to race again. fuck. “wasn’t lying when i told you i’d be your partner if you wanted to try some of those other kinks out, though. what was it you said again? petplay?” he leans down, drops his voice, and grins, “you’d look cute in a collar.”

you shiver, glare up at him, and point at the door. “out!”

[lucabyte]

some thoughts on Claude

alt title: diversity win! this Butch Nun is crafting bombs in an unventilated room in her convent while actively courting Mother Superior! Do Not Give Them Access To Unlimited Power No Matter How Nice They Are

+ bonus

[astertimberwolf]

I miss my Italian grandma.

She is the reason I love Ruby. Because they share the same personality.

This is the reason I am still in love with the adult version of a fictional character.

My Italian gran was the only healthy maternal figure I had growing up... And the only person to love me unconditionally in my entire life.

... And I'm afraid it will stay that way, with how things are going...

...

There. I said it. The cat is out of the bag.

May the budding rose she imprinted in my heart stay intact and safe, even though it will likely never get to bloom...

All the other bad imprinting, represented by roots of all evil, has / have been removed.

This rosebud is the only living flower standing in the middle of the snowy clearing and scenery inside my soul.

I will cherish this rose forever, with all I have.

[keeps-ache]

gonna keep it shmoovin man

[redflannelsheets]

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