#if anyone wants to fight me about this don’t

[botanicsoul]

Girrrrrrlllll I love your work! You are so talented i was gonna ask if you are down to write a hate sex type fic with bakugou :ppppp if you’re not down totally fine already eating up your work anyway so much love from Türkiye 💕💕💕

Yes yes YES!! im obsessed with this ;) Love you lots babe and thank you so much for this request 🙈💕

Spite & Sparks

timeskip | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

. ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

You hated him.

You hated how fucking rude he was. How he talked to people like they were beneath him, like he didn’t have time for anyone’s shit. You hated that smug, arrogant smirk on his face whenever you opened your mouth to argue with him���like he loved watching you get worked up.

You hated how cocky he was, how his presence sucked the air out of the room, demanding attention without saying a word. You hated his stupid grenadier hero costume and how it clung to every inch of his hard, cut body like it was designed just to make you look.

But most of all, you hated that it worked.

You hated how easily he had you moaning his name, legs spread and hips tilted, back arching for more of him even as the words left your mouth—

“I fucking hate you,” you spat, voice shaky, eyes glassy as your fists balled into the sheets beneath you.

You were shaking. Your thighs were trembling from the effort of holding yourself up, from the way he hadn’t let up for even a second. He knew what he was doing. He knew how deep to hit, how fast to move, how to drag his hand down the curve of your back just to watch you arch for him even when you didn’t want to.

And you were fighting it—fighting him.

Your face was flushed, your teeth dug into your bottom lip to keep the sounds in. You were right there, right on the fucking edge—but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

Bakugou noticed. Of course he did.

“Oh, you holdin’ back now?” he growled, voice dipped in heat and arrogance. “Tryna pretend you ain’t about to come all over my cock?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You just gasped, jaw tight, legs shaking.

He laughed—mocked you—rolling his hips deeper, angling himself just right. “Tch. That’s cute. Thinkin’ you got control.”

“I’m not…oh shit—” you cried out when he snapped his hips forward hard, hitting that one spot that made your whole body light up.

“Not what? Not gonna come?” His voice dripped smug satisfaction. “Baby, your pussy’s fuckin’ twitchin’ on me I can feel you milkin’ me.”

“I hate you,” you panted, a sob threatening to break through the words. “I hate you katsuki.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked against your neck, voice low and dangerous. “Then fine. Don’t come.”

He fucked into you harder. Meaner. Grinning when your hips bucked back against him, desperate. “Don’t come, if you hate me that much. Be a good little brat and hold it aaaaalllll in.”

You whimpered—your body betraying you in the worst fucking way. You were right there, teetering.

“What’s the matter?” he cooed, mocking. “Pussy too weak? Huh? She don’t hate me like you do?”

His fingers dragged between your legs, found your clit, started circling it—slow and cruel. “Oh god,” you gasped, body lurching forward, a broken moan ripping out of your throat.

“Go ahead,” he growled, voice strained now, too turned on to hide it. “Let go. Make a fuckin’ mess on me. Come like the hate-filled little bitch you are.”

You wanted to fight it. You wanted to keep the hate on your tongue, not the moans. But when he whispered your name in that low, possessive voice, and slammed into you just right—

You shattered. And Bakugou felt it. Felt the way you clenched and cried and shook beneath him, heard the way you sobbed his name like it was a curse.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, voice rough, thick with lust as he watched you fall apart beneath him. “Look at you, princess. You fuckin’ love me.”

You were still trembling—hips twitching, jaw slack, your whole body flushed from the orgasm that ripped through you. And you hated that he could see it. See how wrecked you were. How much he affected you.

He slowed his hips, grinding into you with slow, punishing rolls that kept you teetering on the edge of overstimulation. But then—his hand left your hip.

You flinched when you felt it on your face. His thumb pressed gently to your cheek, trailing up to brush under your eye. Tender. Almost sweet. The contrast made your chest tighten.

“Look at me,” he muttered.

You tried to resist, tried to keep your eyes squeezed shut. But he gave your cheek the softest little tap—not hard, just enough.

“C’mon, baby. Gimme those eyes.”

And you did. Slowly. Hating the way your gaze met his like gravity was pulling you in.

His thumb rubbed over your cheek again. The pad of it was calloused, warm, achingly careful.

“You fuckin’ hate me, huh?” he said, softer now. His tone still had that edge, “That why you come so fuckin’ hard for me?”

You swallowed, breath catching. “I hate you,” you whispered one last time.

But the way you leaned into his touch? The way your lips parted, eyes half-lidded and glassy?

He smirked like he already knew the truth.

“Yeah, baby?,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple, cock still buried deep inside you.

“Well I fuckin’ love you.”

He knew the truth. The way you were still grinding against him, still begging for more?

“I love you too,” you whimpered lowly, voice cracked and ruined.

. ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

[qwordavoider]

I present to you 650 words of the beginning of my take on Buck transferring to the 122 under Sal. It'll eventually lead to a tevan reunion, but I want to do it from Ravi and Buck's pov to switch it up. I will also be adding it to the make me write that I have going right now. So feel free to request more of the 122 transfer fic 🚒 and enjoy Ravi's pov to start off.

-

“Hey Buck,” Ravi greets as he walks into the locker room at the start of shift. He expects to get the typical, “Morning Rav,” from him. Instead he finds Buck staring blankly at the locker in front of him. Ravi can’t help but notice that it’s a little emptier than the last shift. 

“Buck?” he prompts again when there is no sign that Buck heard him. “You good?” Ravi asks.

Buck jumps and it’s clear that he was in his own world, but he nods in response to Ravi’s question and starts slowly getting ready for their shift. He had been like that a bit more lately. Ravi knew Buck was probably taking Bobby’s death hard, even if he didn’t necessarily see it most days. Buck was the one checking in with him the most and he really appreciated it, but he always brushed off Ravi’s offer to talk. The others didn’t seem worried, so he was assuming Buck was just grieving in his own way. 

The first time he became really worried was when Buck said he was transferring. He never thought the man who chased him with a chainsaw to make sure Ravi was worthy of taking over his spot, would ever willingly leave the 118. Ravi studied Buck out of the corner of his eye and now that he paid more attention, he could see the tension and exhaustion in his face and the way he held himself. He hadn’t taken the time to look beyond what Buck was telling him to see that he wasn’t doing well. 

He’s about to ask how he’s really doing when Buck whispers, “I’m still transferring.”

Ravi stills to think through the best way to respond. He had really thought that Chim’s speech had been enough to convince him to stay. It had been for Eddie and he had bought a house in Texas, so Ravi just assumed that Buck had pulled the transfer papers. Guess he was wrong. 

“You’re not gonna bring out the chainsaw on me again are you?” Ravi eventually asks, deciding to try and lighten the mood. 

Buck stares at him for a second before he catches on, cracking a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Nah. You earned your spot here a long time ago Rav. No chainsaw required.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Ravi asks. 

“Yeah, I am.”

Ravi nods, that’s good enough for him. “Well I’m gonna miss you. Despite our rocky start I’ve learned a lot from you. But like you said to Hen, you gotta do what’s best for you. I admire you for that.”

Buck looks surprised that Ravi’s not fighting him on it. He can’t blame the guy. Seems like every time Buck decides to do something he’s either asking for advice from the team or they try and talk him out of it. He’s glad to see Buck doing something for himself. 

Since Buck doesn’t seem like he’s able to say anything right now, Ravi continues, “Is that why you’re slowly cleaning out your locker?”

Buck nods, “Today is my last shift.”

Wow, that’s quick. He doesn’t know why Buck hadn’t told anyone, so he asks, “Does Chim know?”

Chimney had taken over the role of captain for the last few shifts while the chief decided on whether or not it could be permanent. It seems like something the interim captain should know about. 

“I-”, Buck sighs, “I’m going to tell him right now. Just psyching myself up.”

Ravi nods, “Do you know where you’re going?” 

“A-shift at the 122, under Captain Deluca,” Buck replies.

Ravi thinks that name sounds familiar, but he’s not sure why because Tommy immediately comes to mind when he hears it. Weird. 

“Well, don’t be a stranger. If you need anything- well, not anything, I won’t steal a helicopter for you. But if you need a friend… I’m here,” Ravi offers, hoping that Buck sees it as the outstretched hand it is.

-

Part 2

[c4shm0neyxxx]

“The Way He Stays”

You sat on the steps of the old gym, chin tucked into your knees, shivering beneath your school jacket. Everyone had gone home hours ago. You hadn’t. Couldn’t.

There were too many voices in your head, and none of them were kind.

Then, like a ghost conjured from the fog, he was there. Geum Seong-je. His hair damp, hands buried in his pockets, the collar of his uniform sharp against his throat.

He didn’t ask what was wrong.

He never did.

Instead, he sat beside you — not touching, but close enough that your shoulders almost brushed. Close enough that his warmth bled through the space between your bodies like quiet reassurance.

“Did you eat?” he asked after a while.

You shook your head.

He clicked his tongue, pulled out a crumpled bag of snacks from his pocket, and shoved it toward you.

You didn’t take it.

He didn’t care. He opened the bag, pulled out a piece, and held it to your lips. His fingers hovered, waiting. Not forceful, just patient.

You opened your mouth.

“You always do this,” you said between bites.

“What?”

“Show up. Stay.”

He didn’t answer. But he turned his face slightly toward you, rain dripping from his lashes, and in the curve of his mouth there was something unspoken — something you’d never seen him give to anyone else.

“You scare people,” you whispered. “But not me.”

“Should I?” he asked, gaze steady.

“No.”

You reached for his hand. He let you. His fingers were rough, cold — but they closed around yours with surprising gentleness.

“You make it hard to breathe,” you admitted, “but I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

A beat passed.

Then: “You think I don’t feel it too?”

His voice was quiet. Uncertain, for once.

You looked up. His eyes — guarded, always — had softened. Just for you. Only for you.

And when he leaned in, his kiss wasn’t desperate. It was slow. Careful. Like he was afraid you might vanish.

But you didn’t.

You kissed him back.

Because no one had ever stayed the way he did. Silent. Solid. Unshakable. And in his broken, bruised way, Geum Seong-je loved you more fiercely than anyone else ever could.

No one knew.

Not your friends. Not his crew. Not even na baek Jin, and he knew everything about everyone.

You were Geum Seong-je’s secret — and somehow, that made you feel more important, not less. He didn’t hide you out of shame. He hid you because he was possessive. Because the world didn’t deserve to look at you the way he did.

“Someone’s gonna see,” you whispered.

“Let them,” he said, voice low. “I’ll break their jaw.”

You laughed, soft against his skin. “You can’t fight everyone.”

“Yes I can.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah?” His hand slid up your back, fingers grazing bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. “But you keep crawling back.”

“Because I’m just as bad as you,” you said, grinning.

But then the grin faded — because you saw it. That flicker in his eyes. The one that only showed when he was afraid of losing you, even if he’d never say it out loud.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t speak. Just pressed his forehead to yours, breathing you in like he needed you to survive.

There was so much he never said — but he didn’t have to.

It was in the way he’d always stand behind you without a word, always watching, always ready. The way his hands only ever shook when they touched your skin. The way he kissed you like it hurt — like loving you scared the hell out of him.

You brushed your lips against his. He kissed you back slowly, fingers gripping your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, barely audible.

“I know.”

“And I’m yours,” he added, like a confession.

Your chest tightened.

This boy — this violent, guarded, impossible boy — didn’t just want you. He needed you. And you needed him, in all the dangerous, destructive ways that made no sense.

But in the quiet?

He was soft.

And in secret?

He was yours.

[confusedhummingbird]

Just my opinion, anyone can disagree, but I feel like Dick being tied to the Batfamily holds his own book back from evolving. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Batfamily and all, but being stuck in Batman’s editorial corner keeps him from even being better than Bruce. I know there are some scattered lines in the comics that say Dick is better than Bruce at certain things, like fighting, but honestly, those are more throwaway comments than anything actually shown in Nightwing’s own book.

I wouldn’t be surprised if some really cool ideas for Nightwing’s series got scrapped because they could ‘outshine’ Batman’s story, since the whole family revolves around him. And because of that, every member has to fill a specific role, no one can outshine the other. Dick can’t be shown as smart with tech because that would overshadow Babs, and he can’t be the best fighter because of Cass, or the best detective because of Tim… and of course, no one can outshine Bruce.

I know a lot of people don’t care about this stuff, especially if they enjoy the Batfamily dynamic, but if you’re someone who just wants to follow Dick as a solo character, it sucks, because it feels like his stories never really go anywhere, even when the writer is trying hard. And I do really like Dick. To me, he’s the most important and iconic sidekick. But still, I gotta admit that Wally, in terms of storytelling and breaking free from Barry, had more success in the end, at least in my opinion.

Oh no I completely agree with you. I feel like there could be so much more cooler and better stories used with Dick. I mean think about how he doesn't even really have a Rogue's Gallery. The only really known one is Blockbuster and I think that's most because of the infamous issue 93.

And it's honestly sad on a meta level as well. Because Dick created Nightwing because he wanted to be his own hero. He wanted to be more free than just Batman's sidekick. He loved Bruce but didn't wanna be tied to him for the reason of his life. That's what Nightwing represented in the 80 and early 90s with the Titans. But now while he is his own character he's also so heavily tied in with Bruce and the rest of the Batfamily and it's honestly to the point where you're barely allowed to see any of the Batfamily members doing stuff outside of Gotham that you have to wonder sometimes why he's even still Nightwing. Because he's not free anymore. He's basically just Robin again in a new costume.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Summer ended in a sort of limbo. Every corn stalk was cut at its base, the dried roots left to wither in the ground with an unspoken hope that the earth would take them and the memories of failure back into its embrace. Melancholy hung in the air where they had once grown, emanating from Giorgio and Zelda more than anyone despite the fact that neither were mourning the same thing. 

Its pall settled even on Josephine, who found her sharpened tongue uncharacteristically soft in Giorgio’s presence. They spent their days quietly, the ongoing fight between them paused at least in respect to the heavy weight of change in the air. But deep down, in ways she subtly tried to nudge him toward, she was just waiting for his grief to transform into excitement. She wanted to shout that something dead now meant that something else could grow; and that the longer he lingered here, in the valley between one phase of life and another, the harder it would be to ever let go.

She could feel it pulling her down like an undertow, creeping into her thoughts and slowing down her mind. It had been years since she'd been trapped there, somewhere between the comforting haze of memories and a dauntingly nebulous idea of the future. Its pull terrified her, and so in the back of her mind she started counting. Five weeks. Then four. Now only three. Three weeks until their next tour. Only more three weeks of trying to walk on eggshells and then she could escape this vortex of melancholia hanging in the air for the open road and the -

A purposeful knock sounded at the front door of the cabin. She looked over at Gio, who’s eyes were closed in the midday sun. After waking near sunrise and spending hours fixing things that didn’t need to be fixed or cooking furiously, he often fell asleep around this time. She feared it was because he didn’t sleep at night, even though she herself slumbered as dreamless as a bleary eyed drunk. 

The knock sounded again, more impatiently this time. She threw her bare feet off the bed and ran to the front door.

She opened the door too quickly, unknowingly giving away just how excited she was to see whoever was on the other side. When she saw that it was Hosa Grove, she had to keep her hand on the door to hide her disorientation. He tipped his hat downward in greeting. “Forgive me, Miss Josephine. I’m only in town for the day and Val told me where I’d find you. You know a phone would be wise in your line of work, don’t you?”

She stopped her eyes from going wide in surprise, rolling onto the balls of her feet to seem a fraction of the height she would have been in heels. Barefoot and barefaced, standing in the open door of her home, she knew that she was already at a disadvantage in whatever this was. “Is everything alright with our tour?”

“You’re a wily one, Miss Josephine. You know that?” He laughed in the same unreadable way that Val did, and suddenly Jo realized where she had gotten it from. “Yes. Everything’s fine with your tour. Could be that I cut it here and now given the circumstances you’ve gotten us into, but instead I'm here to counter your little bout of disloyalty with an offer of my own.”

So he knew about George’s dance halls. She crossed her arms, tilting her hip toward the door as she tried to ignore the scratch of the wood on her bare feet. “I got my hands on a dance hall just over the California line. Pair of gangsters were running it before they got chased outta down. Grade A place compared to what we got now; but I want it back up and running in a week, and I want Antoine there for opening night.”

He held out his hand as she started to speak. “Now hold your horses. I want a non-compete. On this tour and any of my bars you play at from here on out.”

Purposeful confidence flooded her voice as she tried to turn the scales back in her favor. “Sounds like you’ve got to admit that Antoine’s performances at George’s only served you all the better then. Spread his name around. Built some excitement. You plaster posters of his face for your opening and now the whole state knows you bested George with your very own dance hall. Guitarist and all.”

When he narrowed his eyes it highlighted the scar running through his eyebrow. I know why he does it now. Why he rides up and down the route without any real sense of home. “Don't you think I know that? It’s the only reason I’m here making you this offer at all. See I don’t usually take kindly to disloyalty, Miss Josephine. But I like you, and I like to think you’ve done us both a service with your maneuverin’ whatever your intentions may have been. So can you be in California by Friday or not?"

His final sentence had been spoken with such a note of finality that Jo knew better than to think it was actually a question. Because even if she wanted to, how could she say no? He was on her goddamn porch, scowling and knowingly holding the upper hand no matter how many ways she looked at the deal. So she buried her hesitation and extended her hand in his direction.

As he took it in his own, the anger on his face softened immediately. “Best get moving then. I know you drive fast but you're gunna need to be wheels on the road by tomorrow if you want to make it for opening. I’ll let Val know. She’ll have the car ready for you this evening.”

As he pulled his hand back he lifted it to his hat, tipping it to someone just over her right shoulder. As his heavy boots turned to move away, Jo glanced to where he was looking and only then realized that Gio had been standing there in the shadows of the living room.

She angled the door closed, already sensing the fight that was hanging in the air. Fuck. That was the last goddamn thing she needed right now. She had managed to avoid it for weeks, just hoping that it would stay buried amongst the corn where it belonged. A loan, Jo! You said it was a loan! 

Gio’s arms went across his body as he waited silently for the footsteps outside their cabin to disappear. The forced patience only seemed to make him angrier, but it gave Josephine the chance to count her breath, rehearsing the argument in her mind before it had even begun. Poised, practiced retorts flooded her thoughts in a neat list, until finally, the footsteps disappeared off the front porch and Gio's restraint snapped like the lash of a whip.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? Did you really just tell him yes without even speaking to Antoine? Jesus Violette thinks her father’ll be here for weeks, and now he leaves tomorrow? What are you going to tell her? What are you going to tell him?”

She didn’t have time for this. The count had suddenly gone from three weeks to one day in a matter of minutes, and this wasn’t about that. It was always something about bigger, some argument that neither of them had a handle on until suddenly their world burst open and he was screaming, A loan, Jo! You said it was just a loan! And she didn’t have fucking time for that.

She moved past him toward their bedroom, mentally packing even as she spoke. “You saw him! He put me on the spot for a reason. This was a loyalty test. If I had said no - if I had even hesitated, we would be out of a main gig by the time we left in three weeks! I’ll tell Violette, I’ll explain. She’ll listen to me, she always does. She’s smart - she understands -”

“Listen to yourself! She is a child! Jo? Jo!” Her arms were out, rifling through the clothing rack with her back to him. “Jo, STOP IT!”

She spun where she stood to face him, but only because the force in his voice had destroyed her list of curated excuses and purposeful poise. Instead she wanted to bring her finger to his face so that he would have to grab her by the wrists just to move it. No YOU listen to yourself! So self-righteous about MY family and MY life all while yours is crumbling! 

But there was something in his face that she didn’t like. It was cold and resolved and beyond anything she had prepared for when she had rehearsed this fight just moments before. It was worse than his ire and more powerful than his rage, simply because it was just a reflection of herself that she wasn’t yet ready to see. The mirror in front of her began to crack and warp; but then, whether out of self-preservation or simple selfishness, a switch flipped inside of her. She realized that all she had to do was what she had always planned, only smarter and calmer and - just turn the mirror around.

One, two, three steps. Then her hand was on his cheek, and he knew that touch. It was comforting - so comforting, and life had only just crumbled. The corn had just been cut. He was mourning everything he had ever wanted. She was there with him amidst the dying leaves. You can do this. I’m here with you. “I know what this is really about, Gio.”

“No that's not it - it’s not about that. It’s -”

“Look at me.” He did as she asked, not even realizing that her eyes were almost even with his because she was using the same trick on him that she had with Hosa minutes before. “I’m sorry I won’t be here when you start work. You know how it is. If you lose your chance it's gone forever. These men are fickle and they find new talent and then you’re out.”

“Jo. That isn’t it. You can’t just -“

“Hey.” She could feel his reflective anger rising, threatening to turn mirror back onto her. “I know the corn failed. I know. I know that this isn’t what you wanted but it will be great, okay? You will be great.”

With one sentence it was done. Quicker and more bloodless than it would have been with any scathing insult, she had pierced through the crack in his armor that she had found when she was taking it off of him in the dead of night. Her own actions moments before had been forgotten, and when he spoke again his voice was thick but not harsh. “It's just busy labor. There’s nothing to be great at.” 

Guilt rose up from her stomach into her throat. In the back of her mouth it transformed into something that sounded a lot like love. “No, there is. There always is. And you’ll find it, I know you will.”

But as she pulled his face down to meet her own, she didn’t even realize that she let her bare feet go flat on the worn wool rug beneath them.

Previous / Next

[busyw0man]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

❝ i don’t like you. i just… don’t want you to get hurt. that’s all. ❞

❝ stop being so kind to me. it’s confusing. ❞

❝ why does it always feel different when it’s you? ❞

❝ don’t pretend you don’t feel it too. ❞

❝ i hate that you understand me better than anyone else ever has. ❞

❝ we keep doing this — arguing, pushing each other away — and still… we end up right here. ❞

❝ i should walk away. i should hate you. but i don’t. ❞

❝ this isn’t supposed to matter. you’re not supposed to matter. ❞

❝ tell me to go. tell me you don’t want me. i’ll believe you. ❞

❝ you weren’t supposed to mean anything. so why do you feel like everything? ❞

❝ if i let myself want you, i’ll never be able to stop. ❞

❝ do you really hate me, or does it just hurt less than wanting me? ❞

❝you ruin everything, you know that? including my ability to stay away from you.❞

❝ say it’s nothing. say it doesn’t keep you up at night, too. ❞

❝ if you kiss me right now, i’m not going to be able to pretend anymore. ❞

❝ what are we even doing? we fight, we hurt each other, and then we end up like this. ❞

❝ i wish i didn’t care. i wish it didn’t tear me apart when you look at someone else like that. ❞

❝ i should hate you. but all i feel is this ache when you’re not around. ❞

❝ you’re the last person i should fall for. and the only one i want. ❞

❝ this was never supposed to happen. not with you. ❞

❝ i don’t want to want you. but you keep making it impossible. ❞

❝ i can’t lose you. not when i finally figured out what you really mean to me. ❞

❝ you make me feel everything i’ve spent years trying to shut down. ❞

❝ is this still hate? because it doesn’t feel like it anymore. ❞

❝ you drive me insane… and i’d still rather be near you than anyone else. ❞

❝ i know we’re supposed to be on opposite sides, but i can’t stop thinking about you. ❞

❝ i’ve tried to forget you. god knows i’ve tried. ❞

❝ say you don’t care. lie to me. maybe i’ll believe it this time. ❞

❝ when did you start looking at me like that? ❞

❝ maybe if we’d met under different circumstances, this wouldn’t hurt so much. ❞

❝ i kept telling myself it was just tension. just adrenaline. but it’s not, is it? ❞

❝ you broke something open in me. and now i don’t know how to close it again. ❞

❝ i’m not supposed to love you. i’m not supposed to want this. ❞

❝ for someone i’m supposed to hate, you make me feel way too much. ❞

❝ just tell me it didn’t mean anything to you. say it to my face. ❞

❝i wanted to hate you. but you saw me, and now i don’t know how to forget that.❞

❝ we can’t do this. so why does it feel like we already are? ❞

[theseinfernalangels]

Random things FW boys do that are unreasonably hot

AHHHHHHHHHH. Warning for suggestiveness. 

Dain: His Wingleader voice…Enough said. You don’t get to hear it much yourself, since Dain gets all soft and sweet around you, but in the rare chance that you come across him while he’s running drills, all you can hear is his voice, strict and sharp and commanding and…Damn. You should best hope he doesn’t notice that you’re there, because then he’ll notice you lingering and use it on you without a warning — and he has. Multiple times. Once to testyour reaction, and the next to enjoy your reaction. 

Bodhi: I write about this too much, and it’s probably getting annoying, but I think it’s so hot when someone speaks in their native language to you. Bodhi uses a lot of Tyrrish in passing, just out of habit, but when he talks to you in a certain soft tone, his accent crisp and clear, it makes you so giddy — even if you don’t even speak Tyrrish. It’s even hotter when he groans out a curse, because that’s when you know he’s unraveling — or one of his little pet names for you, the most common ones being “mo leannan,” and “a thaisce.”

Ridoc: There’s this aura of confidence that practically shines around him wherever he goes, particularly on the sparring mat. Whenever someone deigns to try and talk shit on him, his lips quirk up into this sly little grin, and he tilts his head challengingly as if to look down on them. Yeah, it looked good from the sidelines, but when he directed it towards you? You almost let him pin you on purpose. It’s painfully deliberate sometimes, sneaking onto his face like poured honey, but who are you to complain?

Aaric: Aaric is tall. That’s literally one of the first things that Violet says about him. I’d estimate he’s about 6’2-3”. Why is this important? Because, dear reader, he loves to reach stuff for you, even though he does it pretty nonchalantly. If you’re reaching up for something in a cupboard, he’s the type of guy to step behind you with a hand on your hip, murmur, “I got it,” and then hand whatever it is to you. It’s gotta be on purpose at this point, with how often he does it. When he lingers a little, with his chest pressed to your back���You’re a goner.

Sawyer: Everything. We know that Sawyer can be pretty snarky sometimes. Whenever someone gets a little too close to you for either of your likings, he raises an eyebrow and inches a tiny bit closer, muscles slightly coiled. He looks like he’s about to scold the people toeing the line. Dammit, it shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but he hardly ever pulls that older and stern thing on anyone since he’s usually so collected. It works, too — whoever he’s watching gets the memo and backs the hell away. The first time he shot that look at you, it sent chills down your spine in the best way possible, and you finally understood why people backed up immediately.

Liam: Liam is just hot in general, but when his protective side comes out, it’s a fight not to climb him like a tree. Pulling you out of the way by the waist (even if the people approaching would’ve missed you by, like, three feet), casually resting his hand on your knee and stroking it with his thumb, the emphasis he puts on, “I have to go. My girl and I have to get some work done.” He’s protective of everyone he cares about, of course, but it’s different with you, because while the people around him are special, you’re everything to him. Everyone notices it, but no one says anything.

Brennan: It’s the way he’s clearly destined to be a father for me. Spending his years taking care of Mira and then Violet, he’s already prepared for fatherhood. I don’t even want kids, but the idea of him directing the Assembly and then coming home to his partner and kid…Woof. Kind of a spoiler, but him and Sabine end up having a child right before the war ends, and it takes everything in her not to jump his bones because of how seriously he takes it all. It’s mutual, though, because the moment he sees you with a baby on your hip, he gets the worst baby fever ever and wants another kid. 😭

Garrick: You know the way that some guys sit down, where they sit and then slightly shift their hips? That’s Garrick, and it’s hot as fuck. It’s not even a conscious thing — he’s just trying to get comfortable — but it’s the way his legs are slightly spread, and then his abs flex a little…And bonus points if he casually pats a thigh, asking you to come sit while he talks to someone. I’m a little too self-conscious to sit on a guy’s lap…but maybe I’d make an exception for Garrick, with his posture and such.

[hevexns-realm]

Yearning

Black sapphire cookie x fem! (Angel!) reader

(Fair warning: These dividers are not made by me! They belong to @anitalenia and @bunnysrph respectively! Go check em’ out! >v< this is also going to be a pretty long one-shot, so bare with me here!)

(This takes place after chapter 8.) After the events of chapter 8, black sapphire cookie can’t seem to get his mind off you, even while at work. So he decides to pay you a small visit.

Edit: I can’t believe that it took almost 4-6 months to write this. (I started not long after that his banner came out.) so I really hope the fem black sapphire fans enjoy this!!

Backstage of his studio, black sapphire cookie is preparing for his next show. Checking the script, prepping his skin with a face mask, and sipping on some berry juice. He goes over a few words in his head as he looks at the clock. 9:30pm the clock says. Black sapphire cookie sighs and leans back in his chair, a hand tuffles in his hair as he tries to get his preparations ready.

Even with his show’s ratings being higher than ever thanks to some recent scandals, shadow milk’s defeat at the hand of pure vanilla and his friends has gotten him distracted. It wasn’t the fights themselves, it wasn’t even how pure vanilla cookie was able to trick his master. Nope, it was you.

The little angel who dared to fall into the yogurt river herself, even without knowing how to swim. The way you constantly apologized for tripping into the river and nearly ruining it for him and the others. The way you were so kind and supportive to all three of them, and how carefully you tended to candy apple’s ruined syrups, full of love and care. Your voice and actions seem to echo in his brain, he could still feel the warmth of your hands on his cold and dead hands, and he could still remember the look of guilt and remorse on your soft and delicate face as he left to where he is now. Oh how that look made his heart sink.

He shakes his head as he puts down the script for tomorrow’s show and begins to take his face mask off and put on some moisturiser. Yet it doesn’t seem to take his mind off you. He remembers how you asked how his dough always looked so shiny, smooth, and soft. He told you his routine to pass the time for the next game to start, and the way your wings flapped up and down as he spoke. It’s probably one of the cutest things he’s seen all century.

He looks to the mirror, his face flushed. He sighs softly as he begins to realise just how flustered he is over you. It’s embarrassing honestly, he’s the one of the most popular show hosts, and can get just about anyone he wants, but yet he falls for you of all cookies. Anyone he can ever want, and he falls for an angel. One so susceptible to corruption, yet the one who showed him what genuine kindness and love felt like.

He groans softly as his head sinks in his hands, his hair fluffing everywhere. At this moment he wants nothing more than to have you in his arms again, to keep you safe from the corruptive place that is this world. Yet he can’t. He can’t risk shadow milk finding out that he still harbors feelings for you. He’ll tease him for centuries. And don’t get me started on candy apple, she’ll go batshit crazy fangirl mode if she finds out.

He looks up to the window beside his vanity, the moonlight shining through the window panes so elegantly, so lovingly. His mind begins to wander. He wonders if he went to see you right now, are you safe? would you even be awake tonight? If so, what would you be doing? what would you be wearing? Do you have windows in your home? How would the moonlight reflect off your precious face? The questions fill his head before he sighs and grabs his suit and his mic. He needed to clear his head..

Meanwhile, you’re carefully brushing your hair in front of your vanity, your silky nightgown reaching to your ankles, and the moonlight shining through your balcony doors. Soft curtains flowing in the breeze as you hum a song under your breath. You set your brush down and carefully grab your nail polishes to redo your nails. They got rather chipped during your time in beast yeast, and it’s time to choose a new color.

You carefully set out each color. You have your usual baby pink, black and red, baby blue, and a soft amethyst-white shimmer polish. You carefully hold it up to the moonlight, its amethyst shine sparkling in the moon. You sigh softly as you recall your time in the tower, how you finally felt connection with those around you, when everything didn’t seem to make sense, made perfect sense in what appeared to be a broken mind in your vision. Behind lies, you saw fear, when you hear gossip, you saw loneliness and jealousy, and illusions are just hiding insecurities from the world that would never accept them, no matter how hard they tried. All that you see, and those you connect to, gone through the darkness.

You think back to your conversations with black sapphire cookie. His voice was always so suave and sweet, but yet you couldn’t help but hear something else in it. Was it anxiety? Exhaustion? Or something else entirely? Regardless, his words and actions were always maticulated to perfection. How he saved you from the yogurt river when you tripped, how he got you dressed up in a gorgeous purple dress, and how well he treated you in comparison to all those who courted you before..

And how heartbroken he appeared when he saw you trying to reach for him in your injured state before he disappeared.

You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. Black sapphire is gone now, and you remain in your room, tears trying to poke from your eyes.

“No no! Don’t think about him (name) cookie. He probably all did it for show, he probably doesn’t even remember you anyways..”

You sigh as you pick up the soft nail polish bottle and begin to grab the rest of your nail materials and begin to redo your nails. Even if he doesn’t remember you, at least you know that you look good in purple!

Black sapphire is walking around the shopping district to try and clear his head, his eyes always glancing up to the gorgeous moon above him. He stops in his tracks and sighs softly as his mic begins to look at him with a worried expression. Never before has it seen its master so well… lonely. Yearning even. It looks around for a moment before noticing a flower shop, and it taps its master’s shoulder.

“Hm? What is it my dear microphone, did you hear of something interesting?”

It looks and points over to the flower shop. In the window there are these gorgeous white roses in the front window, perfectly primmed and prestiged in all their beauty. White roses have a meaning of pure and innocent love, love that you gave to him and candy apple cookie at the spire, despite being on opposite sides.

Black sapphire walks up to the window and stares at the white roses for a few moments, remembering how much you loved the white roses in the spire’s garden. They were his pride and joy, and you adored them just as much as he did. He thinks back to the rose he gave you from his garden the night before the battle between the heroes and his master. Do you still have it? What condition is it in? Does it give you good memories of your time together, or does it give you PTSD every time you look at it?

He sighs and looks to his mic and smirks softly.

“Let me guess, you want me to buy the flowers and go find her?”

It nods quickly as he chuckles and puts his mic on his back as he walks into the flower shop.

Meanwhile, you finish the final coat of the pretty amethyst-white shimmer polish and put it under the UV lighting for the final time. Once the machine beeps, you carefully take your hands out of the small machine and gaze at your nails with a soft smile. Never in a million years would you think purple would look good on you like this, but you’re thankful to be proven wrong. The amethyst shimmer in the soft white base seemed to give this almost gemstone glow to them, especially in the angle of the moonlight currently. You let out a soft sigh with a gentle smile on your face as your wings flutter softly behind you, your halo bouncing over your head. You carefully stand from your vanity and admire yourself in the delicate mirror, your nightgown shining softly in the pale moonlight, your hair falling carefully over your delicate face, your halo giving the right amount of light to show your eyes and face. After a few moments, you decide to enjoy a few minutes outside on your balcony before you head to bed and rest your head.

You carefully walk over to your mini fridge to grab a club soda and your favorite flavored syrup as you make a simple drink to enjoy while you enjoy the moonlight on your balcony loveseat. Once done, you set down your drink on the table next to the loveseat as you lean on the armrest of the loveseat as you look out to the kingdom below you. You were given a nice three story manor to enjoy as a reward for helping save crispia from dark enchantress cookie, but yet it didn’t feel like a home. Not to you at least. No matter how homey you made it feel for you, it just felt so empty without anyone here except you. You wish you could home cookies and sugar gnomes in your home, but most either politely decline or have homes of their own. You sigh as you look to the moon. You weren’t alone, you just feel a constant loneliness in your heart. You wish for true connections, for gentle hugs and dancing in the main hall with your loved ones, you wish for companionship, for friendship, for family, for love.

Yet the one time you felt so close to reaching it, it was ripped away from you. Leaving your heart empty once again. You remember the feeling of sewing the frilly edge of candy apple’s dress as she asked how you learned sewing, how it felt as if you were your mother mending your own ripped clothes, asking her how she was able to do it. If only you were given more time with them, maybe you could’ve taught her how to sew too? Maybe you could’ve given some sort of womanly knowledge and lessons to candy apple cookie when black sapphire didn’t have an answer? Maybe you could’ve had more of a connection with those two, if only you were given more time.

Tears creep into the corners of your eyes once more. Is this some sort of maternal instinct? The grief of having some sort of daughter figure in your life to teach and care for, only to have it taken away? Your mind trails back to black sapphire before he entered the portal again, that look of guilt and heartbreak in his eyes as he stares at you before jumping into the portal. When he found you injured after the fight with his master, how you tried to reach out to him and call out to him. You hide your face in your arms as your thoughts begin to spiral slightly. That is until you heard a swooping noise come from above you.

Your head shoots up to the moon above you, a shadow barely visible in the corner of your eyes. You swallow the breath you were holding in your throat and carefully take a deep breath. Maybe it’s vampire cookie sneaking off to his juice storage for more to drink. Or maybe it’s latte cookie flying back to parfaitdea for her lessons tomorrow. That is until you hear footsteps of heeled boots on the floor of your balcony. A soft voice calls to you, in the same suavely sweet tone you remember oh too well…

“(Name) cookie…?”

You gasp softly as you turn around to see black sapphire cookie behind you, his eyes widening slightly as he sees you for the first time in months. You both stare at each other for a moment before you sit up on the loveseat and he smiles softly, his face covered with a soft blush.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your enemy. Not tonight at least.”

His voice is not its usual charismatic self. It’s more relaxed, gentle, even affectionate as stares at you for a moment, taking in your beauty once more before he looks to you.

“If anything, I came here to get something off my chest. May I sit with you, dear?”

You nod shyly to his request. You can feel your face heat up as he lies the bouquet of white roses next to him as he sits next to you on the loveseat, it’s soft and silky texture only adding to the moment as music begins to play from below.

He takes a deep breath, trying to find his words for a moment before beginning his sentence.

“You’ve been on my mind recently, more than a lot of things. Your voice rings in the back of my mind, your warmth remains on my hands, and when I saw you taking care of candy apple. Something seemed to spark in me, and it hasn’t left since we last met. You haunt my narrative daily, even in my dreams you appear.. do you have any idea how dearly I missed you…?”

You blush softly as he confesses how much he missed you. After he asks his question, you stay quiet for a moment before finally coming with an answer.

“I never thought you’d miss me. I thought you’d move on from that night, to have forgotten me..”

You blush softly as you look at him with a shyness in your tone as you explained your thoughts during that time. Your heart is ringing in your ears as you recall the times he stood in between you and his master, as if he were protecting you from him, knowing that you’d suffer if you were involved. The way he spoke to you the night before the final fight was so gentle and sweet. When he showed his garden of white roses and gifted one to you, the same white rose you keep on your vanity to remember the times you two had together. It felt as if something changed in your little friendship that night.

“Forget you? The little darling who tripped into the yogurt river? The sweet angel who haunts my narrative all the days? How could I ever forget you…?”

He chuckles as he floats up and looks down at you, his mic keeping him afloat as he stares you down with an endearing look in his eyes. Watching you play with your hands as your wings flutter softly, your halo creating a soft glow over your precious face. You’re just as shy and sweet as he remembers you, even after everything.

“You were always willing to help with little tasks around the spire, even as a guest. Your gentle presence was always so endearing to me, and it still is. Especially when you sewed up candy apple’s dress, she’s still wondering if you’ll be able to teach her one day…”

“Well, I wanted to show you how much I appreciated your kindness, and that’s really the only way I knew how. But I’m glad I made a positive impact onto you and candy apple cookie! She’s always welcome here any time to learn how to sew! I have a lot of spare time on my hands after beast yeast, so if you two wish to make an appointment for sometime this week I’m up for it!”

You smile sweetly before you see black sapphire float down from his microphone and walk towards you with a soft smile as he carefully grabs one of your hands and brings your knuckles to his lips.

“Gentle and sweet as I remember. You really know how to make my demonic heart melt, don’t you my dear?”

“Oh! Uhm..!”

You let out a small gasp before he kisses your knuckles gently. you look away blushing heavily, a small chuckle escape his lips as he watches you look away blushing so heavily. It’s just so cute watching you get so flustered over the simplest affections. He can only imagine how you’d be at your wedding, and that’s what gets his heart racing faster.

“I must say, it’s an absolute shame that nobody can see you for the beautiful angel that you are. Then again, if everyone saw your ethereal beauty, then I wouldn’t be able to see you. That would be the biggest shame of all.”

He states in a more dramatic sense as he uses his mic to catch himself and feign a fainting moment. He chuckles and you giggle sweetly before you look towards him shyly, your hand over your mouth as you look to him. You walk closer and hug him, being hit with the feeling of his cool skin against your warm embrace. This leads a gasp from black sapphire as he stares down at you in shock and a heavy blush burning on his face.

“That would be sad… because then I wouldn’t be able to see you or candy apple ever again.. I don’t want to lose you two.”

He smiles softly and hugs you back tightly with his free arm, that same protective hold from back in the spire. He chuckles softly as he sets his mic down and carefully guides your head up to look at him.

“Awh dear, you missed me so much, you just wanted to run into my arms the moment you saw me, didn’t you..?”

He leans in slightly with a teasing glint in his eyes as a smirk forms on his lips. You look away shyly with an embarrassed flush on your face as he teases you. You hug him tighter, your wings fluttering as you lie your head on your chest.

“Of course I did.. I missed you and candy apple cookie dearly, and I can’t help but think that our time together was cut short because of the final fight between your master and my friends… being with you it… it felt so wonderful, it felt as if I was whole once again.. yet, whenever you left… the pain it left was scarring, it felt as if half of my soul was ripped from my body and left with you… but, now that you’re here, it doesn’t have to be that way anymore… right?

He cups your cheek with his hand before he leans in closer. His breath hitting your lips as he stares into your eyes.

“No my angel, not at all..”

He leans in and leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek. The feeling of his lips on your cheek and the small smooch sound makes your face burn red as you let out a soft gasp. Leading him to chuckle softly before kissing your other cheek. This one more quick and sweet than the previous one. Then you let out a soft yawn as you begin to realize just how tired you were.

“I’ll talk to candy apple cookie about the possibility of sewing lessons. Until then…”

He carefully picks you up in a bridal style, grabbing his mic and the roses in his arm, feeling the silk of your nightgown against his hands. His face begins to burn a soft red as well before he sighs with a smile and carries you to your bed. Your arms wrap around his neck as you lean your head against his chest. You look up at him as he looks down to you. It feels tense, but also peaceful. A air of mutual trust and affection for the other. And black sapphire couldn’t ask for anything more precious than seeing you in his arms all tired and needy in his arms!

He carefully sets you down in the bed of soft and warm covers that are trimmed in lace. He moves a strand of hair or two from your tired face as you smile softly. He carefully kicks off his boots and sits next to your form on the bed, his smile unwavering as he watches you try and get up.

“Ah-ah, no need to sit up my dear. Let me join you…”

You nod as he He gets up from your side of the bed and sets his mic down before stepping over to your vanity to set the roses on the vanity next to the soft eternal white rose that he gave to you the night before the big fight. He then walks around the bed and climbs into the opposite side as you turn to him as he sets his mic down on the nightstand and lies down next to you, covering you and him in the soft and warm blankets. It’s strange for him, to be in the same bed as someone, and to have the same feelings that he’s had for flings. Yet he doesn’t feel the need to satisfy his lustful urge so quickly. This soft tension between you both is adamant, yet it’s not inherently lust. It feels more gentle, intimate even. It feels as if it’s a sense of yearning. He smiles softly as he cuddles closer to you, holding you carefully in his arms and rub your back as you lean your head on his chest.

“…thank you…”

“For what?”

“…for letting me trust you. I don’t usually let cookies into my life like this, let alone let them into my bed.. this is sort of my safe space, my safe haven from the rest of the world. And now you’re part of that safe haven too…”

You yawn as you wrap your arms around his waist as you cuddle closer to him. A small sigh escapes his lips as his wings seem to wrap around your form as you close your eyes.

“I find it ironic how you find me of all cookies to be trustworthy, I’m far from it. But if an angel like you thinks of me like this, then maybe I’m not as bad as I thought I was…”

Black sapphire continues to rub your back and hold you close as you yawn softly and slowly begin to fall asleep in his arms…

“Trust me, I wish that were true as well. Yet this world is so cruel, so violent, so…”

You whisper slowly as you feel his hand on your head as he rubs your hair back slightly as he leaves a gentle kiss on your head to shush you.

“My dear angel, you need your rest. Go on off to sleep, I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt..~”

You yawn once more before you start to sleep in his arms, a small chuckle escapes black sapphire as he sees you close your eyes.

“Sweet dreams, sweet angel~”

Your eyes slowly open the next morning. The room has the light scent of a shower being taken, there’s a sense of warmth next to you as you look up to see black sapphire cookie. He’s in a black robe that’s partially opened, sipping on some tea and reading the local gossip papers as he waits for his hair to dry and fluff up again. His gaze reaches yours before you look away with a burning blush on your face. You can hear him chuckling slightly before he sets his tea and magazine down before leaning over to hug you again.

“Good morning my wonderful angel~.. I assume you slept well?”

You nod softly as you feel his arms around you. The soft robes keeping you warm as he nuzzles his face into the back of your neck. You let out a soft squeak before he chuckles and holds you closer, his wings fluttering as he smiles sweetly.

“Y’know, I can get used to this. Don’t you agree?”

You turn to him with some surprise on your face. He actually wants to stay? With you? You stare in awe at him, you honestly thought that he’d only want one night, since Y’know, you’re not really supposed to be lustful, not that you want to be anyways. But yet he wants to stay, all cuddled up with you in bed like this. You turn fully to face him.

“You.. you actually want to stay with me?”

“Do you really think I’d leave my post and search for countless hours and miles for you with the perfect roses just for a singular intimate night over? At that rate, it’d just be straight up manipulative and cruel. That’s something a sweet woman like you doesn’t deserve.”

He leans over and kisses your forehead gently as you giggle softly. He smiles softly as he watches you squirm and giggle in his arms before you cling onto him.

You lean your head on his chest as he wraps his wings around you again. Enjoying the morning sun, before his cell phone rings.

“Hold on a moment, my dear.”

He sits up slowly, grabbing his phone and answering it. His free hand carefully glides over to your cheek as he rubs it tenderly as he speaks on his cell phone. Through it, you can hear candy apple wondering where he is. Then squealing her ass off when she finds out that he’s with you. He yanks his phone away from his ear when she squeals. It’s so loud that you can hear it from the speaker.

You giggle softly as you scoot closer to him as he carefully moves his hand from your cheek to your wings as he plays with them, your head on his lap.

“Yes, yes candy apple, I was speaking to her about sewing lessons. You still wish to learn, right?”

You listen in carefully as you hear them chatter and bicker, as some siblings do. Eventually he taps your shoulder and you look up at him with a tender smile, and you swear you could see his eyes soften and sparkle a little bit when he sees you. He smiles softly and leans down to kiss your forehead. He caresses your hair carefully as he stares at you for a moment, completely in awe of your smile. Although, candy apple snaps him out of it when she calls him out.

“How does 11:30AM on Sunday sound for the first lesson..?”

You nod softly with a heavy blush on your face before you nuzzle into him. He smirks and goes back to talking to candy apple cookie. Once he hangs up, he’s back to lying next to you and holding onto you.

“Mmpphh.. she can be so annoying sometimes…”

You giggle softly as you wrap your arms around him, letting him get close to your neck and nuzzling into the crook of it. The scent of your perfume hits him like a truck before he sinks closer and deeper into your neck.

“At least you have someone to come home to and chat with… it makes me happy to know that you won’t be lonely..!”

He smiles and leaves a gentle kiss to your neck, a soft and tender one, full of warmth and love, a lacking of lust. A soft noise leaves him as he leaves a black lipstick mark on your neck, a little mark to say that he’s finally yours. A moment that feels like absolute heaven to him.

“And you won’t be lonely either, not now, not ever beyond here. You will never be alone, and I will never leave your side again… and don’t worry about my master, I’ll talk to him about this when I return to him. Until then, let me love you as you should have been treated for so many years…”

You sigh and hold him close to you. A smile forms on your face once more, a smile of knowing that you won’t be lonely, a smile of gratitude that this is the start of something absolutely beautiful…

——————————————————————

Shadow milk watches from one of the portals he used to keep an eye on his servants. His face holds a smug smirk and an amused look on his face. He knew all along he fell for you, it just took a while for him to finally admit it and go running towards you. Candy apple is watching as well, trying so hard not to squeal at the cuteness in front of her. He closes the portal and sends a quick message to black sapphire cookie.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t break her heart. You hear me?”

He sends the message and then looks to candy apple cookie, who is clearly worried about her brother.

“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

He shakes his head with a smirk. He knows black sapphire will be stubborn about it, and he’s worked hard.. eh, why not? She’s not that dangerous yet.

“Nah, I’ll let him have this. He’s worked quite hard for me for these past millennium, the least I can do is reward him for his dedication!”

He sets his phone down before candy Apple drags him to the sewing room, rambling on about how you’re planning on teaching her how to sew, and how she already made mock up designs for his puppets. He giggles softly before they leave you two be, in the peace and quiet of the start of your happily ever after…

——————————————

FINALLY. AFTER 5 MONTHS, IT IS COMPLETE! I hope you all enjoyed this, because this took forever. I also am open to requests for cookie run fanfics, just the usual boundaries of no proships or anything like that!

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My taglist for people who probably want to read this!:

@graywasxivara @hunniegl4zed

[vicodinandvows]

Men Be Like "I'm Fighting Demons" But the Demons Are Just Bisexuality

It started with three shots of bourbon, two bad jokes, and one dramatic failure to seduce Cuddy.

By 11:46 p.m., House had struck out, declared himself a sexless medical prophet, and demanded Wilson “come retrieve his charmingly rejected corpse.”

So Wilson drove across town.

Picked him up from the bar like the world’s saddest Uber.

Dragged him inside his apartment, one arm slung over his shoulder, the other occupied with House’s cane, which had somehow been left under a barstool near the jukebox.

He got the front door open. House mumbled something unintelligible about jazz and maternal abandonment.

And then he did it.

Pressed his mouth to Wilson’s.

Just for a second.

Sloppy. Warm. Lingering like he meant it. Then—

Collapse.

Right on the floor.

Wilson stood in the doorway for a full minute, staring down at his unconscious best friend, mentally calculating how many years he’d repressed the word “gay” like it was a tax deduction. Three things became immediately clear.

That was the first time a man had kissed him.

He liked it.

He was in trouble.

By the next morning, House was eating cereal straight from the box, watching Jeopardy! and yelling wrong answers at the TV.

“Why are you staring at me like I told you I murdered a priest?” he asked.

Wilson blinked. “No reason.”

Over the next four days:

Wilson dropped three mugs.

He choked on a salad.

He said “bro” instead of “thanks” to a nurse.

He avoided House’s gaze like it was radioactive.

House gave him two days before making it everyone's problem.

“Did Wilson get dumped?” Taub asked.

“No,” House said, eyes narrowing, “but something got into him. Something dramatic."

By the fifth day, Wilson was in his office, head in hands, Googling “bisexuality symptoms.”

House walked in. Closed the door.

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“I’m fine.”

House tilted his head. “You’ve been acting like a man who was kissed by another man and liked it.”

Wilson froze. “You remember?”

House raised an eyebrow. “You mean you remember.”

Silence.

House smirked.

“Don’t worry, Jimmy. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Tell them what?”

“That you’re bisexual and stupid about it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” House said, leaning in. “But relax. I’m irresistible. You didn’t stand a chance.”

Wilson opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then sighed.

“…Do you want coffee?”

“Always.”

And that’s how Wilson’s sexuality crisis ended: with mediocre coffee, smug grinning, and the horrifying realization that he was now house-sexual.

The demons had won.

[heartz-for-de]

Aww your pieces are so adorable :3

How about first 'I love yous' with the mha boys?

Sorry this took forever!!! You didn’t specify which ones you’d wanted sooooo sorry if I forgot anyone!!

Characters included- KATSUKI, KIRISHIMA, KAMINARI, IZUKU, TODOROKI

Not any warnings lol js fluff and some cussing.

REQUESTS- OPENNN

————

Katsukis first time saying ‘I love you’ was reassuring and aggressive.

Katsuki was terrible with words, both of you knew that. In fact he’d made it a point to compensate for his lack of communication through actions. You appreciated his effort in your relationship, but even with his constant affection you’d still felt a tinge of doubt clouding your mind.

It had all started when one day during class when you had began to think, what really attracted him to you? I mean he was the epitome of a perfect man in your eyes and you felt as if you had very little to offer. He had shut you down multiple times when it came to downplaying yourself, but sometimes you couldn’t help but overthink the balance in your relationship.

Katsuki had come up to you after class, expecting to walk you to your dorm per usual. But you had walked forward quickly, causing him to almost have to jog to catch up to where you were.

“Oi? Fuck are ya doin’” he growled out once he had reached you.

“Hm? Oh I was just headed to my dorm.” Your heart skipped at beat at the sound of his raspy and deep voice.

“Right, without me? I think the hell not. whats wrong?” He brushed off your half truth answer and immediately pressed for something more honest.

“I had just..—I had forgotten, I’m sorry.” You nearly held your breath. Lying to anyone was hard, but lying to Katsuki? Damn near impossible.

“No, you did not, y/n. What the fuck is wrong with you? I mean…did I—did I do something?” For a split second you saw confusion and worry flash over his face as he seemed to go through his memories in attempt to find something, anything, but to no avail.

“No! No, Katsuki, I promise you did nothing. It’s just— “ you abruptly ended your sentence once you had reached your dorm room, trying to decide if you should tell him what was wrong, or tell him to leave.

“Just what?” He anticipated the answer, his ruby eyes peering at you through his blonde eyelashes.

“It’s just, I don’t know. You’re so perfect, and I’m so…I don’t know..me I guess?” You stumbled over your words, as his gaze became harsher the more you went on.

“The hell? Yeah, you are you. The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He pressured your answer, his eyebrows furrowed with a look of anger and disgust flooding his features.

You let out a guttural sigh, this really wasn’t how you had wanted to spend the end of your stressful day.

“I mean that I feel like you’re way too perfect, for someone like me.” You wished for nothing more than for him to just disappear and let you wallow in your own self pity, but Katsuki Bakugou never took lightly to people talking bad about what’s his, and that included yourself.

“Oh fuck no— don’t ever let those words come out of your mouth, not now not ever. You are— you’re everything I need, everything I want, so don’t spew some bullshit about how I’m too good for you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t..” a pause came offer his half said sentence.

“If I didn’t love you, y/n. I love you, and it makes me so unbelievably pissed when you say shit like that.” His cheeks were flushed as he kept his glare set on you. Katsuki had never been one for words, but whatever he did say, came straight from his heart.

Kirishimas first ‘I love you’ was genuine and sweet.

It hadn’t been long since the two of you had started dating, but that didn’t make it any less real. And Kirishima was fighting demons everyday not to scare you off. He knew the 3 month rule, he also knew that if he did too much too early he could scare you off, and he’d rather die than see you walk away from him.

Training had been rough, per usual, and you and Kirishima were eating together in the common room.

He eyed your plate with tentative eyes.

“Mmm you meed more proteim.” He said with his mouth full of chicken. You let out a laugh at his mumbled words causing his eyes to land on you instead.

“And you need to chew your food.” You smile hadn’t left your face and Kirishimas heart was beating faster by the second. He gave you a sharp toothed smile and continued eating.

You then grabbed your drink and tried to wash down some of the rice stuck in your throat, but you had choked on the smooth liquid causing you to spit out some and remain a coughing mess.

At first Kirishima was alert and ready to help in whatever way he could, but when he realized you were just choking on water he let out a relieved smile.

You looked up at him with watery eyes and started laughing, the water from the previous attack now all over the table.

He laughed with you, his hand clutching his stomach form the sheer force.

Once the laughter had subsided all that was left was Kirishimas soft glance that landed onto your own. In that moment Kirishima felt nothing other than utter devotion and adoration.

“I love you.” He had said softly, his eyes still melting pure hot emotion. Your eyes went wide for a second from the unexpected confession. Your reaction caused Kirishima to realize what he’d said. Snapping out of his trance he gave you a terrified look.

“Shit, I’m so sorry y/n— I shouldn’t have said that.” He pulled his hands in front of him as if to defend himself.

“Hey, calm down.” You tried to calm the red headed boy who was now in a frenzy.

“I’m so sorry, I was trying so hard to wait—Yknow the three month rule— and I just let it slip.” He continued his rant.

“Eiji, baby. I love you too.” You grabbed his face with your hands, forcing his to meet your own eyes. His posture slumped as his cheeks turned a darker shade of red. He then made a weird expression as if he were constipated.

“I’m so freaking pumped you just said that, but I would take like three steps back because my entire body is about to go rock hard, and I don’t wanna cut your pretty hands.”

Kaminaris first Time saying ‘I love you’ was flirty and unexpected.

The two of you had been friends for what seemed like years, having met through Bakugou and mutual friends. However, you constantly teetered between friendly banter and full on flirting which made it difficult for outsiders to figure out the relationship between the two of you.

One day during the friend groups weekly movie nights, kaminari had volunteered to help you grab some snacks. You stood in the kitchen watching the yellow haired boy attempt to juggle a couple bottles of butter for which you wanted to use on the fresh popcorn.

“Kami, I really think you should put those—“

Splash, one of the bottles had fallen and spilled onto the ground near his feet.

“Shiittt, I could’ve sworn that I was gonna catch that.” Was all he said as you gave him a deadly glare.

“Yeah, well you didn’t.” You muttered angrily, not in the mood for his antics anymore.

“Cmon, babe, I’ll just clean it up! No need to get all pissy on me.” He smoothly grabbed. Paper towel from behind you and began to clean up his mess.

All you could do in return was roll your eyes, the seemingly empty nickname he had used brought a small heat onto your face.

“Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just listen the first time.” He glanced up at you, his cheeky grin forcing a smile out of you.

“Youre right shoulda just listened to you, i mean youre always right.” He said with a thick sarcastic tone lacing his voice. He let out a laugh as he threw away the dirtied towels.

“Mm, I am.” You responded simply.

“So stubborn, gosh. You’re lucky I love you.” He mumbled out. His voice slowly dropping out towards the end once he had realized what he’d said.

It wasn’t weird for friends to love eachother, in fact it was very normal. It would’ve been normal. But you and him both knew there was nothing platonic about what he’d meant. You both were frozen, waiting to see who would address it first, you decided you needed to break the thick silence.

“You love me?” You questioned, praying to everything there was that he wouldn’t try and say he didn’t mean it in the way you’d hoped. His face lightened and you saw the flirtatious look you usual saw.

“Thought it was kinda obvious, I mean cmon, babe. I charge your phone like every night…” he laughed softly while rubbing the back of his neck.

Izuku’s first time saying ‘I love you’ was pressured and hilarious.

He had spent the entire morning worried sick about you, his girlfriend, who had been seemingly upset. He couldn’t figure out why and it was eating away at him, the constant worry that he had done something wrong and was unaware.

So stupidly, the green haired boy had went to denki kaminari for relationship advice, because I mean obviously he would know what was going on in your head.

“Well I mean yall have been together for like two months right?” Denki asked with a perplexed look.

“Yes, but we’ve yet to get past a few important milestones.” Izuku added, his notebook in hand and ready for any notes or tips denki might have.

“Milestones? Like what might I ask?”

“Er, we haven’t said I love you, we haven’t—“ Izuku was cut off by an unimaginably loud gasp from his classmates mouth.

“You haven’t said I love you?” Denki whisper yelled as if anybody was actually listening.

Izuku gulped harshly.

“N-no? Should we have?” He questioned with a Look of worry written into his freckled features.

“Uh, dude, yeah! That’s probably why she’s so upset, I mean she probably thinks you hate her.” He said as if it was the most obvious answer to the boys problem. Izuku could do nothing but look horrified, how could he have let you felt that way?

The second he saw you in the halls he marched up to you and grabbed your shoulders.

“Y/n, I just want to let you know that i love you! I’m sorry for making you feel like I hated you and I want you to know that it’s completely the opposite.” He blurted out quickly with shut eyes.

“Izu, what the hell are you talking— I mean I love you too? I’m super confused, I didn’t think you hated me.” You tried to process everything he’d said but you couldn’t quite answer everything he’d thrown at you.

“Huh? You were super upset today, so denki had informed me it was because I hadn’t told you I loved you—“ you cut him off with a hand to his mouth.

“And you…listened? To denki? I love you too Izuku, but that was very, very dumb.” You patted his cheek with your free hand and played your lips to his forehead.

Todorokis first time saying ‘I love you’ was planned and professional.

He had been thinking all week about the perfect way to let you know and truly understand his feelings for you. You had been dating for about a month and he’d been waiting for just the right time.

He had decided that setting up a few candles in your room and a rose bouquet would really swoon you. (Kirishima had helped him with this perfect idea)

There were several candles, all of which were a lovely lavender scent that filled your room almost immediately. He had repositioned the roses multiple times, trying to get them in just the right position for when you opened the door to see him standing there.

He’d scheduled a study date with your friend group, only to bail last minute calling in sick. You were a little upset at the absence of him but he knew it would be soon replaced with joy when you entered your room. Or he hoped.

He stood awkwardly as he waited for the seconds to pass by, you’d be walking in your room any moment now and he was quite nervous.

The door gently creaked open, and you peered your head into the softly lit room.

“Sho, what the— I thought you were sick?” You asked with shock written all over your face.

You fully entered the dorm and took in all of the things he’d set up for you.

“I lied, my apologies. I needed you to be out of the room whilst I did this.” He answered you truthfully.

“What is this all for? I mean I love it so much this is the sweetest thing ever, but I must admit I’m a little confused.” You picked up the bouquet and looked at him with a small smile.

“I love you.” He felt his stomach drop once he’d released the words, his nerves now heightened beyond what he thought was possible. You gave a shocked expression, but it hadn’t lasted very long. You quickly teared up at the thought of your sweet boyfriend doing all of this just to tell you he loved you.

You let a smile flood your features as you nearly jumped onto the tall boy, his arms instinctively coming to wrap around your torso.

“I love you too, sho”

————

[hearts4hughes]

Drew w 🍬?

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ SWEETHEART SYNDROME

you don’t mean to start the fight.

but you don’t mean not to, either.

his feet are loud behind you. his apartment smells like bergamot and whatever cologne he swiped on this morning. your breath’s still sweet from someone else’s drink—too sugary, too cheap. maybe that’s what does it.

he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it somewhere near the couch. doesn’t look at you. “you have fun tonight?” he asks, voice low. unreadable.

you unclip your earrings. “why? you checking in on me now?”

he laughs once. not the kind sound that you’re used to. “just looked like you were having a real good time with him.”

there it is.

you set your earrings down slow, deliberate. “his name’s caleb.”

“right. caleb.” drew’s jaw ticks. he runs his hands through his tousled hair. “real friendly guy. handsy, too.” suddenly his jeans feel too tight and his body runs warm.

you roll your eyes. “he was drunk.”

“he was into you.”

“so what?” you fire back, spinning to face him. “this isn’t a thing, remember? that’s what you wanted. we don’t owe each other shit.”

his gaze flicks up. dangerous. like a ticking time bomb seconds before setting off.

“then why’d you look at me like you wanted me to care?” he scoffs, pacing back and fourth like he was contemplating something.

your stomach flips, low and ugly. you don’t answer. you shouldn’t have to.

“you were smiling,” he says, stepping closer. “laughing at his dumbass jokes. letting him touch you like that—”

“letting? jesus, drew—” your brows raise in disbelief. your muscles stiffen. he can’t want all of you, not now, not after how he made the last months feel.

“—like i haven’t had you moaning my name into my pillows for the last three months.”

silence cracks between you. it’s hot and suffocating.

“you think this is fun for me?” he says, voice all gravel. his eyes bore into yours like lasers. “watching you pretend you don’t know exactly who you belong to?”

“i don’t belong to anyone,” you snap. too fast. too loud. too unconvincing.

his eyes go black. “the hell you don’t.”

he’s on you before you can blink. a storm in a t-shirt, kissing you like he’s punishing you for even thinking about someone else. his hand finds your jaw, tilts your head just the way he likes. the kiss isn’t pretty, it’s angry, starved, desperate. a claim.

you push at his chest once. he grabs your wrist. pulls back just enough to speak against your lips.

“don’t ever say his name again.” his mouth brushes yours again, lighter yet meaner. the stubble of his beard scratches your soft cheek.

“don’t even think about him when i’m this close to you.”

you swallow hard. your voice comes out thin. “then shut me up.”

and he does. this time it’s worse. better. you hate him for it. love him for it. your spine hits the hallway wall and his hands are everywhere, tugging, grounding, greedy.

this isn’t kissing. it’s combustion.

you’ll regret this in the morning.

but right now, you pull him closer.

right now, he’s yours.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @43hughes @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @xoxosblogsblog @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles @brennanyay @grungefck

[saaraofthesand]

Okay, I debated replying to this at all because sometimes people interpret it as me wanting to fight, which I absolutely don’t. And I don’t interpret your reblog as malicious at all.

But, in the most respectful way possible, your reply kind of proves my point about the way people treat their headcanons. Because Maomao isn’t canonically autistic nor is she objectively autistic-coded. There are many possible explanations for her behavior, most notably her canonical trauma around expressing her emotions. (And I’m saying this as an autistic person who also interprets her as autistic) It’s absolutely fine for anyone to headcanon Maomao as being like them. There’s catharsis in that. The problem is treating it like it’s canon, which it’s not.

at this point I’ve blocked so many ppl why can’t I scroll the tag without seeing these annoying ass motherfuckers

[ficsloverblog]

Hello, anything about Petunia Dursley and reader ? Reader moving in next to Petunia ? I don’t really have a prompt, I’m sorry. But I love your work and there is not enough Petunia stories out there !

Let Them Talk

Petunia Dursley x fem!reader

A/N: Petunia Dursley is a repressed sapphic. You can try and fight me on this, but you will not win. Also, I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I teared up writing this….I can’t help myself, I must write redemption for unredeemable characters…Enjoy <3

Privet Drive is unnaturally quiet in the mornings. Not peaceful, never peaceful, but controlled, like silence scrubbed raw and bleached until even birdsong sounds too loud.

You move in mid-March, just as the crocuses are beginning to push through the earth, stubborn and uncertain. The woman next door watches you unpack from behind gauzy curtains. She doesn't wave. You wonder if she's always looked like that: thin, stiff-necked, a jaw clenched with permanence. The neighborhood has a stillness to it, but hers is different. Her stillness is worn, like a dress she never got to take off.

A week passes before she speaks to you.

“I saw the lorry left your bins out,” she says from across the hedges. “They don’t take them if they’re not in properly.”

You turn, caught mid-sip of your tea. “Thank you,” you say. “I’m still learning the rules of the neighborhood.”

She doesn’t smile, but she gives a curt nod, like your answer passed some invisible test. You catch a glimpse of her eyes—green, cold at first glance. But not mean, not really. Just weary.

“Petunia,” she says.

“Sorry?”

“My name. Petunia.”

“Oh.” You offer your hand over the hedge, as well as your name.

She doesn’t take your hand. Just stares at it for a moment, then looks up at you again. “You might want to keep the gate shut. Foxes.”

Then she leaves.

It’s been sixteen months since Vernon died.

A sudden heart attack. No fuss, just a sound in the hallway and the thud of a body hitting the floor. Petunia found him with his hand on the bannister, face turned upward as if surprised by death’s efficiency.

She called Dudley. He came down for the funeral, held her awkwardly when she cried once, just once, then returned to his girlfriend up north.

Now it’s just her and the empty house.

No voices. No footsteps. No arguments over the telly. Even the fridge hums softer these days.

The silence is the hardest part.

You don’t mean to listen through the walls. But it’s impossible not to hear how still her house is. No music. No television. No visitors. Just the muffled scrape of a chair, the low murmur of kettle to stove.

Two weeks later, you pass her at the grocer’s. She’s holding a single apple and a jar of marmalade. Her eyes flick toward you, then quickly away.

You don’t expect her to speak.

But just before you reach the checkout, you feel someone near your shoulder.

“Don’t buy that brand of tea,” she mutters. “It’s bitter.”

You glance at her, surprised. She doesn’t look at you. She’s inspecting a packet of biscuits.

“What do you recommend?”

She considers. “Earl Grey. Loose leaf.”

Then she walks away.

You buy it.

One afternoon, there’s a knock at your door.

You’re not expecting anyone.

Petunia Dursley stands on your step in a pale blue coat, the kind with stiff shoulders and buttons like pearls. She holds a plate.

“I had some extra. I thought—well. I thought you might want it.”

You take it from her hands. Shortbread, delicate and crisp, lined with sugar.

“They look perfect,” you say.

She shrugs. “They used to be Vernon's favorite. I still make them sometimes.”

She doesn’t explain who Vernon is. You don’t push.

“Would you like to come in?” You offer. “For a cup of tea.”

She hesitates.

You see the battle play across her face, the careful calculation of manners against discomfort. Then—against all odds—she nods.

She perches on the edge of your sofa like she’s never sat on anything soft. Her knees are pressed tightly together. She’s looking around your living room like she’s expecting to find something indecent.

“Do you ever get tired of being alone?” you ask softly after a long moment of silence.

Her eyes snap to yours, brittle and glassy.

“I’m not lonely.”

You don’t answer.

She exhales like it hurts.

“I was married for thirty-five years. I know what lonely really is.”

The silence after that is wide and echoing.

She leaves before you can say more.

You begin to notice how her fingers tremble sometimes. How she double-checks the curtains before opening her front door. How she dresses like someone halfway through mourning and never finished.

One day, while walking past her house, you see a photo through the window. A wedding picture. She’s a young bride in pale ivory, eyes wide but not joyful. The man beside her—Vernon, you presume—has the look of someone used to taking up space.

You knock.

She opens, eyes wary.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?”

A pause. Long enough to hold your breath in.

She nods once.

That night, she eats in silence until the second glass of wine. Then her voice loosens.

“I never wanted children,” she says suddenly, staring at her empty plate.

You glance up.

“I never said that out loud before,” she adds. “It wasn’t an option. Vernon wanted a boy. My parents wanted normalcy. I wanted…”

She stops.

“What did you want?”

Her throat works. Her hands twist the cloth napkin in her lap.

“Not this.”

You start to expect her.

Late afternoons. Early evenings. In the garden. At your door. On your sofa, just barely touching your teacup, like any more warmth might burn.

She tells you little things. About Dudley, who sends postcards but never calls. About Vernon’s snoring, his disdain for jazz, his love of order.

She never mentions the boy. The one she used to take in, years ago.

You don’t ask. But sometimes, when she goes quiet, her eyes flick toward the stairs like she’s listening for footsteps that haven’t echoed in years.

She starts tending your garden without asking.

At first, you think it’s a favor. Then a habit. Then something else.

You find her crouched in your flowerbed one morning, murmuring about the lavender.

“It’s being choked,” she says. “You planted it too close to the boxwood. It needs space.”

“Don’t we all?” you murmur.

She freezes. Her breath catches like you’ve pressed on a bruise she forgot how to hide.

You kneel beside her. “Petunia, you don’t have to do this. Not for me.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” she says. “I just— It helps. To fix things.”

Her voice breaks on the last word.

You don’t tell her that some things can’t be fixed.

Not yet.

It’s July when she finally cracks.

You find her on your porch just after sundown, breath fast, hands shaking.

“My roses are wild,” she says, nonsensically. “They’ve never grown like this before. I trimmed them. I followed all the rules.”

You lead her inside. She doesn’t argue.

“They’re blooming wrong,” she whispers, clutching her own arms. “Or maybe finally right.”

She looks up at you, and something inside her shatters.

“I think I knew,” she whispers. “Even as a girl. There were teachers. Friends. Girls I dreamed about. But I pushed it down. I married Vernon. I thought I could make it go away.”

She looks at you with such rawness you almost can’t hold her gaze.

“I thought it would go away,” she says again, voice shaking. “That if I buried it deep enough, it would die. But it didn’t.”

You step closer. Her eyes are red-rimmed. Her breath smells faintly of sugar and wine.

“I wanted so badly to be normal,” she says. “To be good.”

She looks at you like she’s already bracing for rejection, and then she kisses you.

It’s desperate, broken. All sharp angles and crushed breath and thirty years of denial unraveling at the seams.

You kiss her back. Gentle, anchoring.

But when you make it soft, when you make it real, she panics.

“No—no, I can’t—this is wrong—”

“Petunia—”

She pulls away, then she’s gone, coat trailing, door slamming.

You don’t sleep that night.

Neither does she.

She avoids you for a week.

When you knock, she doesn’t answer. When you call, the line rings out.

But then you find a lavender sprig tucked into your mailbox. No note. No explanation.

That evening, she knocks again.

She stands in your doorway like she’s waiting to be turned away.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It scared me. But I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You let her in.

She kisses you again, gentler this time.

She stays until morning.

There’s a day in early autumn when she reaches for your hand in public.

It’s just outside her gate. The mailman nods to you both. Someone across the street closes their curtain.

She doesn’t let go.

And for the first time in a very, very long time—

She smiles.

Not the tight one she’s worn all her life. But something real.

Something just for you.

And you think: Let them talk.

————————————————————————

Taglist : @ness029

[butch-corvid]

Okay so I could tell you all about how I brought home a cute subby puppygirl, started bossing her around, making her huff my cock until she was cross eyed and whining. I could tell you about how the scent of my cunt made her something…else, made it a creature hellbent on raping a litter into me. I could tell you how I tried to fight off the virile wolf pinning me down, fucking me, knotting me. But I think the moment after it came was the best, when I heard my friend’s timid voice.

I’m so sorry…I’m sorry…did I hurt you?

“I mean, you turned into a thing and raped me, so.”

Quiet crying above me. Her knot was still inside, our bodies locked together in nauseating quiet. Are you gonna call the cops on me?

“No, no, I wouldn’t. You didn’t mean to. And being full isn’t that bad. I don’t like boys but. You’re not really a boy like that, just some kind of animal. I won’t tell anyone.”

Her hips rolled forward and she gasped. You liked it?

“That’s not really what I—-“

But it was gone, rutting into me, knot swelling back up as it growled and sank its teeth into my neck. Bitch. Bitch. Take it. take my litter. You want it.

It was only after another load in me that she came back, apologizing again. Apologizing for being a rapist, for giving in to her instincts, for hurting me, for hurting others.

“It’s…what if you just raped me from now on?” I turned around as much as I could while being mounted and caught a glimpse of her eyes shining in the dark. “You wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else”

There was a pit in my stomach as she began to thrust again, but the pleasure was quickly rising along with it. Another load…I could take it. I could take as many as it wanted to.

[redux-iterum]

There haven’t seemed to be any strongly neurodivergent coded cats in the story yet (unless I missed them LOL that’s very possible for me), so I was curious! Would their clan mates be more accommodating to whatever they struggle with, or would it be seen more as a personal failure since they don’t have concepts for these things? I know that many end up as seers, but surely others wouldn’t fit in that role too. I know they are very community focused and don’t expect everyone to be good at everything— but would those with social deficits, attention span issues, or sensory issues end up in conflict with their clan mates? Would a clan cat understand tics or stims? I know that it probably wouldn’t be explored in detail in any of the books, since the focus is more on the communities at large than on one or two individual characters like in canon, but I like to make up my own cats with two of my friends based on this lore and I would love to hear a little about how neurodivergent cats interact with their community outside of the seer role!

I'll give you this for now: a major character in the third arc will be neurodivergent. I hesitate to use any specific labels, because these cats don't experience mental disorders or conditions the same way humans do (both for plot and worldbuilding reasons), so I won't be using them except as a comparison. I guess the best I can say is that this character will lean very hard into traits you'll see most often in autism, even if they aren't one-to-one with it. Along the way, as we plot out the second arc, we may add in more divergent characters (or alter characters to be divergent), but I won't declare it as a certain thing, in case we don't or can't get to it.

Now, for the lore questions! I'll give a rundown of the big information here, so we have a main post to link to people when they want more context:

We've mentioned before that conditions that affect the brain are not super easy for the Clans to handle. They can understand a broken leg, but (for lack of a classier term) a broken mind is invisible, and you can't just fix it with licking a wound clean or giving someone prey until they can get up and go hunt themselves. This is mostly in the cases where one hallucinates, or is severely mentally handicapped, or struggles with suicidal thoughts or depression - the Clans do not have therapists or a rank specifically built to handle such issues. The best they often can do is provide physical care and work around these disorders to keep the cat alive and as happy as they can be in the Clans. That doesn't always include becoming a seer.

Gooseleaf was extremely lucky that he happened to be in tune with the spirit world and became a seer apprentice, otherwise his schizophrenic episodes would have landed him in the elder's den as soon as he got his name. There have been plenty of challenged cats (and other disorders are included in this) that were just regular warriors, and some became elders quickly in their lives (though there have been perma-apprentices before, but they're treated as elders are all the same). It all depends on the severity of their condition and how it affects their quality of life.

As far as the Clans are concerned, you do the best you can to contribute to your community, and if you simply can't because you're mentally a kit or beginning apprentice, or you can't do much more than sit there and stare at nothing, then it becomes time for the community to contribute to your survival. Often, this includes retiring someone early, or limiting them to staying near or in camp if a caretaker isn't around. In some cases, these cats do end up going to the Houses - not that anyone wants to do that, per se, but sometimes it's just better to let the apprentice who can't learn basic hunting or fighting techniques go be a kittypet, where they'll be safe and warm and cared for their entire life.

The way a Clan decides if a cat needs to leave the territories entirely is pretty simple: if the cat is in significant enough danger from their issues that they need a guard with them at all times, even when they're in camp, it's just not a life anyone considers worth living. The Clans may have contempt for kittypets, but they're not fools; they know that kittypets live longer than any other class of cat in the known world, and they don't have to struggle. The logic then follows that their challenged Clanmate won't have to struggle either, so it's best to ensure their safety and happiness and take them to the Houses. Not anyone's favorite thing to do, but they consider it for the best.

Now, for less intense disorders, such as cat-ADHD or cat-anxiety (simply referred to as "nervousness"), where the cat can function but just has a few "quirks", no one would probably think twice about them as anything but that cat being that cat. Little Cherrypaw is just a fidgety molly who's easily distracted, she can't help that. Better get her a mentor who can keep her active and help her focus in her best way. Oh, and Ravenkit? Yes, yes, he's scared by default, so let's all approach him carefully and back off when he starts to shake. Hey, don't get upset with Mosstail, she's wandering in her mind again. You know she does that sometimes. Don't shake her, she'll get upset and yell. Just let her come back when she's ready.

The nice thing about Clan life is that the community adjusts to whatever issues crop up as quickly and as well as it can, because they need to work together to survive. This can cause friction sometimes, yes, as we've seen in CL with Bluestar - some things are harder than others to work around. But warriors care deeply for each other by default, and they'll do whatever it takes to keep each other alive and happy. If that means taking extra precautions to keep a wobbly cat standing, or letting an apprentice sprint off their energy until they can come back and focus again, or learning how to speak in sign language with a deaf warrior, then they've got no problems with that.

[thefemmefatalexo]

Sukuna SMAU - A Study in Breaking

Chapter 1 - Cornered

Summary: You dated him once. Six months before it ended in a single message. Sukuna changed after that—cold turned cruel, distant turned violent. Now, three years later, you share a campus. He fights. You keep quiet. You don’t speak, but you see each other. Then his brother disappears. And everything you’ve tried to keep buried begins to shift. Because you know things. And he’s willing to tear through anyone to get them. Even you.

cw: emotional and psychological abuse, abusive family dynamics, drug-related content, violence and threats, kidnapping, stalking, depression, toxic relationships, underage drinking

an: I won’t say much. Please tell me your opinions in the comments and if you’re feeling generous reblog my work to support me! Thank you and enjoy reading this chapter! SMOOCHES 💋 💋💋

{introduction} ; {next}

taglist: @idontwannatalkrn1 @heartwoundd @linny-bloggs @tqd4455 @el-lise @loveyislost @kyo-kyo1 @wiserebelpartypie @prisvvner @love-me-satoru @food8me @j311yf1shk1tty @mxchiii @gojocumslut @maomimii @mirk0-maniac

You don’t remember when the fear started.

You just remember that by ten, you knew how to tell which version of your mother was walking through the door — by the sound her keys made against the counter.

Heavy meant tired. Light meant angry.

The crash of glass? That was for you.

She never needed a reason.

You could breathe wrong, and she’d call you disgusting.

You could speak too softly and get slapped for mumbling — speak too clearly and get told you were being a smartass.

Her love came in quick flashes, guilty hugs after bruises, hot food dropped in your lap with a bitter “there, are you happy now?”

Your father was worse in the way that made it hard to explain.

He never touched you. Never raised his voice.

But you’ve never felt smaller than when he looked at you like you weren’t worth the calories it took to keep you alive.

Like your existence was something he regretted but wouldn’t say out loud.

He never asked about the bruises.

Never stopped your mother from dragging you by the hair when she thought you were lying — about homework, about boys, about your tone.

He just watched the TV louder.

By high school, you’d mastered the art of silence.

You smiled when they needed you to. Kept your room clean. Got perfect grades.

You sat at dinner and counted how many times you could chew without being told to stop grinding your teeth.

And even then, it wasn’t enough.

Because nothing was ever enough.

Because when someone needs to feel in control, you become the easiest thing to break.

Then came Sukuna.

Not kind. Not safe.

But he never lied. Never pretended to love you one day and hate you the next.

His cruelty was clean. Predictable. Honest.

He was the first person who looked at you like you weren’t fragile — like you were already ruined, and he didn’t mind.

And for a while, that felt like freedom.

You gave him six months.

He gave you a text.

And that should’ve been the end of it.

But somehow, he still lives in the part of you that flinches — not because you miss him, but because you remember how it felt to not be invisible.

So now you run drugs.

Not because it makes you feel alive.

Not because you want to spiral.

But because it’s easy, and it pays in cash. Because it keeps your parents out of your bank account. Because no one asks questions if you don’t give answers.

You don’t care what’s in the bag.

You don’t care who you’re delivering it to.

You just care about saving enough to get out — out of the house, out of the city, out of everything that’s tried to keep you small.

You don’t tell anyone. You don’t brag. You don’t slip up.

There’s no thrill in it. No rush. Just a job.

And that’s all you need.

Because feeling something?

You gave up on that a long time ago.

You see him sometimes.

Not often enough to call it routine, but just enough to remind you he’s still here — that he didn’t disappear when he left you behind.

Campus is big, but not that big. Frat parties are even smaller, especially when Gojo throws them — which he does too often and too loud, like he thinks he’s doing the world a favor. You don’t go because you want to. You go because you need your friends to keep thinking you’re still a person.

They drink. They dance. They flirt. You stand in the corner nursing warm beer and trying not to look like you’re counting the exits.

That’s usually when you see him.

Sukuna.

He doesn’t look at you. Never does. Not really. But you know he sees you.

You feel it in the way his eyes slow when he scans the room, in the way his jaw flexes when someone leans too close to you, even though he keeps his back turned.

He makes it look effortless — the indifference, the distance.

But you know him. You knew him. Long enough to recognize when he’s pretending not to notice.

And maybe it’s pathetic, the way your stomach tightens anyway.

The way some part of you still waits for him to look at you and say something — anything.

But he never does.

He just leans into some new girl’s neck, hands on her waist, grin like a weapon.

They always look the same. Loud laughs, short skirts, arms thrown around his shoulders like they’ve won something.

Maybe they have. Maybe you’re the idiot for ever thinking he could be anything else.

Most people either want him or stay the hell out of his way.

He’s known on campus for the fights, the reputation, the rumors no one can ever confirm.

Even his silence feels dangerous.

You don’t talk about him. Not to your friends. Not to yourself.

But when you leave those parties, you always walk home alone.

And you never look back.

Flashback — April 2021

You had noticed him earlier, but you didn’t think he’d noticed you.

That changed when Uraume leaned close and said, almost offhand:

“He’s been staring. Might as well let him talk to you.”

“Who?” you asked, already knowing.

“Sukuna. Don’t act clueless. Come on.”

They didn’t wait for your answer.

You followed them through the crowd, careful not to spill the drink in your hand, careful not to look too eager. Your heart beat a little faster, but your face stayed even. You were good at that — keeping things where no one could see them.

Sukuna was leaning against the wall at the far end of the hallway, lit only by the dim glow spilling from the kitchen. He didn’t look like he was waiting for anyone — but his eyes tracked you as you stepped closer, like he was already figuring you out.

“This is her,” Uraume said, then turned and disappeared into the party.

You looked at him, met his eyes without flinching, and gave him a simple, calm smile.

“Hi.”

He stared for a second like he was deciding whether or not to answer.

“You look different up close.”

“That’s either a compliment or an insult.”

He smirked slightly.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

You took a small sip of your drink and glanced past him, down the hallway.

“I thought you’d be louder.”

“Louder?”

“Yeah. You have a reputation. The kind of guy who starts fights, skips class, doesn’t shut up.”

“I haven’t hit anyone tonight.”

“Congratulations,” you said softly. “Growth.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him, short and real.

He looked you over again, not in a gross way, but like he was trying to figure out what exactly he was seeing. You didn’t give him much. You didn’t need to.

“You always come to parties like this?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“But here you are.”

“Uraume insisted.”

“And you listen to them?”

“They’re… interesting company.”

“So are you.”

You raised your brows just slightly.

“You don’t know me.”

“Not yet.”

There was something easy about the way he said it, even with the edge in his voice. He wasn’t pushing, just observing. And he seemed surprised you weren’t fawning over him — not trying to impress, not giving him anything but honest, even-toned conversation.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said after a moment.

“What were you expecting?”

“Someone louder. Or someone who’d already be asking for my number.”

“Not my style,” you said.

“You don’t want it?”

“Didn’t say that.”

He grinned at that — not cocky, just quietly entertained.

The silence between you settled in, not awkward, just steady. You could still hear the music from the other room, voices spilling from the kitchen, but it felt distant. He looked at you like he wanted to say something else — but didn’t.

“I should get back,” you said, tipping your head slightly toward the noise.

“To what? Standing in the corner?”

You smiled.

“Exactly.”

He didn’t ask you to stay. But as you turned, he said your name like he wanted to remember it.

You glanced back once before disappearing into the crowd. And even after the hallway faded behind you, you could still feel the weight of his stare.

The night thinned out like it always did — bodies pressed too close, drinks half-spilled on floors, basslines making people forget where they were.

You stayed. Not because you liked it, but because watching people unravel gave you something to focus on.

Everyone was either drunk, high, or both — laughing too loudly, dancing like they’d already forgotten who they came with. You recognized most of the faces, even if none of them ever really saw you.

That’s when you noticed Yuji.

You didn’t know him well — just that he was Sukuna’s younger brother. A freshman, a little loud, too nice for this kind of crowd. He trained in Taido, always smiling, the kind of person who made everyone else relax without trying.

You’d seen him floating around earlier — talking to people, trying not to look like he was keeping an eye on his brother.

But now he was headed toward the back door, walking too fast behind someone you did recognize.

A dealer. One of the ones who worked off-campus. The type that stuck around too long at parties and offered things that came in ziplocks with no label. You’d done enough runs to know the type.

Your stomach turned.

You watched Yuji follow him out into the dark. No hesitation. No one else noticed.

You looked toward Sukuna.

He was on the couch with some girl half in his lap, nursing a drink he probably didn’t even like. His head was tilted back, laughing at something Toji said — sharp, mean laughter that didn’t reach his eyes. The two of them were bickering like always, throwing insults that could’ve been jokes or threats. Hard to tell with them.

He didn’t notice Yuji was gone.

Of course he didn’t.

Your eyes lingered for a moment too long.

That’s when Uraume stepped beside him.

They didn’t say anything. Just stood close enough that it was clear — this was territory. Their gaze met yours across the room.

Blank. Cold.

You weren’t supposed to be watching.

So you set your cup down, quietly, and turned away.

You didn’t tell anyone. Not about Yuji. Not about the dealer.

It wasn’t your place.

But you left that party knowing something most people there didn’t.

Not all the damage comes from the people screaming. Some of it comes from the ones who look away.