#my cat is a counter-jumping asshole

[neuerswaist]

the cat yells at me to make him dinner -> i go make cat dinner -> halfway through i realise i should probably take the trash out -> i leave the cat dinner on the counter to take out the trash -> i realise i might as well clean the litterbox before taking out the trash -> oh no, now i gotta vacuum as well -> might as well pick up the cardboard pieces my cat has decorated my living room with -> might as well -> my cat yells at me because of dinner -> i still haven't taken the trash out

[radmista]

Maybe don't let your animal that steps in it's own feces dirt on the same table that you're preparing food?

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Golden Retriever, Black Cat

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader (Golden Retriever energy x Black Cat energy)

Summary: Based on this request + a lewd comment that a guy made about me in a skirt when I was 16. 

Word Count: Roughly 1.6k 

Warnings: Fluff, comfort, some cursing, mentions of jumping bones, a misogynistic comment from a co-worker 

Author’s Note: Just a cutesy little story for you. If you have a specific idea in mind that you would like for me to work on, please let me know :)

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After getting home and slipping your shoes off, you huffed, immediately looking for Peter. Your Peter. 

You found him in the kitchen. Looking deliciously handsome as always, you wanted to jump his bones, almost forgetting about your annoyance.

You grumbled and greeted him with whispered words and a tight hug.

Noting that you were uncharacteristically quiet, he gave you a small smile. “Hi, bug. How was your day?”

That’s all you need to hear to go off on a tangent.

“And then,” you said, throwing your hands up, “this asshole, this fucking buffoon, had the audacity to tell me I didn’t know what I was talking about and procceded to mansplain the topic to me. Me!” You spun around, narrowing your eyes at him as though Peter was the one who had offended you. “Can you believe that? I’ve studied for years, and he spoke over me like I was some kid who didn't know the difference between a psychology term and a pizza topping. The nerve of that dickhead.”  

Peter leaned casually against the counter, his glasses slipping down his nose, and he rested them on the counter. He observed you with that soft, amused smile that made his brown doe eyes sparkle, listening to your every word. His arms were crossed, his posture relaxed, but you could see how his lips twitched as he held back a laugh.  

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he said, his voice warm and patient. “You’re always right. We should all be grateful to be in your presence.”  

You froze mid-pace and whirled around, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me, Parker,” you snapped, your voice sharp, like a hiss from a cat whose tail had been stepped on.  

Peter pushed off the counter, that damn grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth as he took a step closer. “I’m not,” he said with a soft chuckle, his voice dropping into something impossibly sweet. “I just think you’re perfect. My pretty girl.”  

Your cheeks flared with heat. Even in the middle of a rant, Peter knew how to both fluster you and ease your blood pressure. 

But you, being you, never liked to immediately give him the satisfaction of seeing you melt. It would only grow his massive ego.

You crossed your arms defensively, your cheeks puffing out in a soft pout. “Stop calling me that,” you muttered, eyes darting anywhere but his. You couldn’t handle the intensity of his gaze.  

“Why?” Peter tilted his head as he closed the space between you. His fingers, warm and gentle, tilted your chin up. Your resolve faltered as you looked into his warm brown eyes. “You are my pretty girl. My bug. My sweetheart.” His voice was teasing, but there was so much affection behind it that you couldn’t help but feel your defenses crumbling.  

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” you grumbled, turning your face away slightly to hide your smile from him. The last thing you wanted was for him to know that he was winning.  

Peter, of course, noticed anyway. He always did. That beautiful, beautiful fucker.

He laughed, that melodic sound that made your heart do summersaults, and pulled you into his arms. His big, warm hands settled against your back, pulling you close as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Your tried your hardest not to bury your face in his warm sweater. His scent. You didn’t know how much longer you could resist jumping on him.

“And you’re my favorite person,” he murmured against your hair, his voice so soft and steady it felt like a heartbeat in your chest. “Even when you’re grumpy.”  

“I’m not grumpy,” you muttered half-heartedly, the words losing all meaning as you melted into his embrace.  

“Whatever you say, bug,” Peter teased, squeezing you a little tighter. You rolled your eyes, but when he tilted your chin up again and kissed your forehead, all you could do was sigh.  

He melted off all of the anger from your body. Almost.

You were still annoyed by what the asshole said to you.

"I should have punched that sorry excuse for a human in the face for what he said to me when I was walking out." You whispered into his chest, not expecting him to hear you.

But your boyfriend had spidey senses.

Peter’s smile faltered, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What was that, bug?” His arms tightened around you slightly, the protective shift in his energy not lost on you.  

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. You hated admitting when something bothered you, but Peter’s gentle yet intense stare made it impossible to brush him off.  

“What did he say?” Peter persisted, his voice low, almost dangerous.  

You tried to shrug it off, trying to mask your vulnerability under his scrutiny. “It’s nothing, Pete. I handled it. Told him off before I walked out. It doesn’t matter. I’m just being pissy.”  

But Peter didn’t let go. His hands remained firmly on your waist, and his eyes bore into yours, unyielding. “Bug,” he said, his voice quieter but no less intense. “That’s not ‘nothing.’ What exactly did he say?”  

You hesitated, your heart thumping louder than your words. You knew how protective Peter could be. His love could feel like a force of nature when it came to you.  

“He said...” you trailed off, your voice dropping to a whisper. “He said I was only good for my ass in a skirt.”  

Peter’s entire demeanor changed in an instant. His body stiffened. The gentle, golden retriever energy that usually defined him shifted into something possessive and protective. His jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, his grip on you becoming more solid like he was anchoring you against the storm rising within him.  

The muscles in his arms flexing, but never to cause you pain. He stepped back, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s not okay,” he muttered, pacing now, clearly worked up. “No one gets to talk to you like that. Not ever.”  

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter, watching him pace. “What are you gonna do, swing by his office in the suit and web him to the wall?”  

“If I have to, yes,” Peter retorted without missing a beat. His voice was firm, his tone serious, and his golden retriever energy took on a new intensity. “He’s scum for disrespecting you like that, he’s lucky I wasn’t there.”  

You snorted, your cheeks warming at his protectiveness, though your sarcasm couldn’t help but bleed through. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? A total goofball. A clown. No! The whole damn circus, Pete.”  

Peter turned back to face you, his playful grin reappearing. “Maybe,” he said, stepping closer again, his hands cupping your face this time, his large, warm palms practically enveloping you. “But you’re my girl. No one gets to talk about you like that.”  

The softness in his voice made your sarcasm catch in your throat, and for a moment, you were simply still, surrendering to his care. You melted under his touch, your black cat energy momentarily vanishing in the face of his gentle love.  

“You’re too good for me, Parker,” you murmured, your eyes downcast.  

“Not true,” Peter said immediately, tilting your face so you couldn’t escape his gaze. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Life would lose all of its meaning without you.”  

You sighed, finally leaning into him, your grumpy exterior cracking more. “Fine,” you muttered. “But if you’re gonna be this annoyingly sweet, at least don’t stand there looking stupidly handsome.”  

Peter laughed, and you felt yourself soften even further. “You’re impossible,” he said, pulling you into another hug. His golden retriever warmth surrounded you once more, and all you could do was let yourself sink into the comfort of his arms.  

“And you love it,” you teased, your lips curling up into a grin.  

“Always,” Peter said, kissing the top of your head as he held you close, his love wrapping around you like the safest, warmest blanket you could ever imagine. 

Later that night, you were cooking dinner and Peter silently snuck up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on top of your head.

You sighed, leaning back into him.

“What’re you making, bug?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, easing away any leftover tension in your body.

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” you hummed as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Everything felt perfectly calm for a moment, just the sound of bubbling sauce and the warmth of his embrace.

That peace didn’t last long. It never has since Peter Parker stumbled into your life.

Peter spun you around to face him in one swift motion, his hands sliding lower along your sides.

“That guy was a prick for saying that about you,” he said flatly.

Peter’s grin shifted to something more playful as he looked you up and down. His large, warm hands squeeze you through your yoga pants. “But I will say, because I can say, that your ass is lovely.”

Your cheeks instantly turned pink, and you swatted at him with the dish towel. “Pete!”

He laughed a carefree sound that made your heart flutter. “What? I’m just admiring the view. My view. My favorite view.”

You rolled your eyes, but despite the teasing, you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your lips.

Peter Parker was going to be the death of you. Oh, but what a way to go out.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Much love x

- Maeve

[nighttimealone]

Would love to see more of wraith!simon x reader🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ especially the sweeter dynamics of their relationship!! Maybe the various different parts of their relationship as wel

Wraith!Simon (pt.1)

Cw: Suggestive, fluff

If you have a habit of locking the bathroom door while showering, sorry, the little lock doesn’t stand a chance in Ghost’s breaching inside the bathroom, since he can just phase through the damn door. You’ll find yourself enjoying the warmth embrace of the cascading water until the steam outside the shower glass starts parting without any reason.

Or, there’s a reason—Ghost, staying invisible and interrupting your precious self-caring time.

“Simon?” You turn your head towards where you assume he’s standing and call out. “Told you so many times already, stop barging in while I’m showering, if you want to join, just say it.”

The only answer is the white noises of the shower ringing in the room. Bastard doesn’t feel like talking right now, you shrug nonchalantly, decide to go back and work the shampoo into your scalp, but the hand prints that start appearing on the steamy glass catch your attention.

One, two, three…the hand print crawls its way upwards, smearing the foggy glass door until it stops around the height of your eyes.

‘No’

Firm, without any space to argue with, your typical wraith partner and his grumpy black cat attitude.

“What do you mean no?”

He doesn’t answer this time. Okay then, back to showering.

Lilting the song you accidentally discovered and has been playing on repeat for days, you miss the swirling of the steam behind you, the heart he draws on the foggy glass, musing that he probably left you alone and finally granting you some privacy.

Well, totally miscalculated from your side. Cause a pair of hands rested on your hips the moment you turn off the shower, and a monstrous thing is poking at your inner thighs is impossible to ignore.

“Time to claim my reward.” his breath fanning on your ear, chest pressing against your back as he materialized himself.

Oh, You’re fucked, mentally and physically.

Keep a close eye on your shopping cart when you’re out to restock your groceries.

Detergent, teabags, a carton of milk…5 bags of crisps…

5 bags of crisps?

you lift your head from your shopping list and double check the stuffs in your cart to make sure you’re not hallucinating.

“Simon!” you hiss out a whisper as you put 3 bags of crisps back on the shelf, knowing he’s definitely lurking around you, and the sudden chill you feel with his approach proves that you’re correct yet again.

“2 bags of crisps, that’s all, Simon. you ate 5 bags of these this week already…and all the same flavor?!”

A grumble rumbles from behind, his own method of conveying his protest when he’s invisible.

“No, that won’t work on me anymore, Simon.”

Another grumble emanates after your words, this time more like a purr than a threatening bark from a wolf.

“You used the same trick last time.”

No response this time.

Well, he finally gave up. you resume pushing the cart towards the counter again. Too much crisps isn’t good for him, even though he’s a wraith, and a weird wraith that does exercises, and got caught using your ring-con, jumping like a monkey to collect coins in the middle of your living room one day you were back from a long day. (he didn’t talk to you for the next few days, and the air was extra cold)

Setting the items on the cash desk, you fumble your purse to fetch the wallet absentmindedly, waiting for the cashier to scan the products.

“A bottle of detergent…5 bags of paprika crisps…”

“Sorry?”

“5 bags of paprika crisps.”

The little…apologies, big asshole, and hell, he’s chuckling with that low tone now in triumph beside your ears.

“Cash or card?” The cashier’s skeptical voice snaps you out of trance.

“Cash…”

Next time, watch your six when you’re strolling towards the counter, maybe you’ll finally spot the floating bags of crisps making their way back from the shelf into your cart.

Drank too much water before going to bed…your eyes flutter open as your bladder calling for help and wakes you from your peaceful slumber, hinting you to make your way towards the washroom.

“Bloody hell!” You nearly shout when you spot the massive man few steps away from you, and scares all of your lingering sleepiness away.

There goes your wraith, standing tall and imposing…at the end of your bed, basking in the moonlight that seeps through the curtains and glowing in a blue-white light. Thank goodness you didn’t wet your pants.

“Why aren’t you in the bed?!” you pat the empty spot of the mattress beside you.

“Feeling like going on a short walk.”

“In our bedroom? at 3 a.m.?”

“Any issues?” with the skull mask covering the upper part of his face , you’re unable to see his expression clearly, but you know he’s raising an eyebrow with the ‘you’re the one who’s being weird’ face.

Okay, a wraith being active at 3, valid.

“Just don’t stand at the foot of my bed next time, alright?”

You shake your head in disbelief, sluggishly dragging your legs to the washroom, and make it back to your shared bed again minutes later.

Good, he’s on the bed now, no more shenanigans.

You lay down next to him, “Good night.” the mumble rolls off your tongue with grogginess, closing your eyes and ready to drift back to sleep again.

Ah, should set an alarm so you won’t oversleep and arrive at work too late once more.

The last bit of the sober part of your brain saves you from the predicament before you fully fall asleep, so you reluctantly open your eyes, arm reach out blindly to fetch your phone.

“Holy hell for the love of—“

“You didn’t day I couldn’t stand beside the head of the bed.”

The smirk playing on his lips is infuriating, but attracting as hell too, gracing his ruggedly handsome features so good that you forget about your anger for a brief moment, till his amused laughters escaping his lips and drag you back to reality.

You’ll kick him out of this house, you swear.

[puttingherinhistory]

Most people have absolutely no fucking empathy for the way it affects you to survive an abusive relationship. Most people have absolutely no fucking empathy for what the symptoms of PTSD do to you.

I had to work various food service and retail jobs right after I escaped a violently physically abusive relationship, and that mixes together just about as well as having to work a strenuous physical labor job right after having both your arms broken. But it was my only option if I wanted to pay the bills and keep food on the table.

Of course customers would get aggressive and hostile with me, of course customers would scream while their faces were red with rage and slam their fists on the counter or even try to physically threaten me. And of course given my very fresh and very untreated PTSD I'd freeze and/or fawn and break down afterwards. Even just moderate aggression like a raised voice or a forceful attitude could send me into freeze/fawn because my brain had just spent years being taught that even something as moderate as a raised voice or a forceful attitude meant I was in physical danger if I didn't back down.

And when my co-workers would witness me freeze up in front of a screaming hostile customer the reaction would range from anywhere from annoyance at how pathetic that was of me to later bragging to me about how much better they would have handled that because they're so much tougher and more assertive than me and needed to preen about that. Instead of even bothering to think about why I might be reacting the way I was or trying to empathize they could only jump on the opportunity to judge me as weak to make themselves feel better about themselves.

Or a friend of mine who I distanced myself from after I saw how she reacted to her sister's behavior after leaving an abusive relationship. Her sister was of course afraid of her abuser and afraid of confronting him about custody matters, and my friend would always talk about how frustrated she was with her sister for being "so childish and such a scaredy cat". She knew her sister had just been abused, but all she could do was judge her sister for being "weak" and get mad at her sister for her "weakness".

I have spent years in therapy and have regained a lot of my confidence and assertiveness that I'd lost from the abuse. But it still stings in all sorts of ways when I think of how people reacted to my behavior after I'd just escaped the abuse. How everyone's, and I mean everyone's, reaction to seeing me freeze or fawn or break down when I encountered aggression or hostility was to judge me as weak instead of having any understanding at all, and this includes people who knew I was fresh out of an abusive relationship.

If someone had just broken their arm and couldn't carry anything with their freshly broken arm, any normal decent human being's reaction would be to understand why they couldn't carry anything with a freshly broken arm, and any normal decent human being wouldn't expect them to. It's widely understood that if you judged them as pathetic and weak for not being able to carry anything with a freshly broken arm, and if you started preening about how you're so much stronger and better than them because you can carry things with your unbroken arm, that this makes you a colossal fucking asshole and a generally bad person.

Imagine if we could actually approach mental/emotional injuries, like PTSD from a physically violent relationship, with the same understanding.

[eris-snow]

8. 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐀 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

Tags:bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, detective bakugou, hacker bakugou, fluff in the midst of angst

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. One must grasp it before the tunnel caves in.

January 6 20XX

You have to give Katsuki credit, because the dude was dedicated. Not only that, but he could do things that you found difficult with ease. Such as, well, talking to someone.

"Aizawa-sensei says that the foolscap was outdated from 10 years ago. Apparently, it was the same ones he used when he was in U.A. It spanned a good ten years, so at the very least, they haven't walked off the fuckin' earth and died yet." The ash blond announces, flopping on the ground next to you. It was the first day officially back from winter break, but Katsuki was as unfazed as ever.

Back when people were still being potty-trained, Katsuki was practising hours a day on the piano in between kindergarten and card trading with the guys. That's what made him the best, and half of you was glad to see that part of him was still the same.

Focus, you tell yourself. Now isn't the time to get distracted!

"They could be anywhere in the country. With my luck, anywhere in the world." You counter. "Or maybe the one with my condition has poofed out of existence—"

"Stop it with that," Katsuki knocks his knuckles against your forehead, making you reel back at the contact. "People stop writing for all sorts of reasons. They could have cracked the code, or had a fallout, who knows? Shut up and be optimistic. I can't afford you spiralling."

You make a face at him. "You've changed."

"I'd be an asshole if I didn't." He replies, not missing a beat.

You're still an asshole, you want to point out, but you hold your tongue. He's trying to help you, after all.

"Any idea of what course they were in?" You ask instead. "It'd be easier if it was a hero, high profile is good."

"There's a phone number on the paper—"

"That has been changed and is unavailable." You finish. "It's a dead end."

Katsuki huffs, folding his arms. "It's a lead."

You snort loudly, holding back your laughter. "You've changed a lot—"

"And you're an idiot." He refutes. "You can track a phone even after its number is changed. I can get a hold of the IMEI number—"

"What are the chances of someone keeping a phone for over a decade?" You scoff.

"What other chances do we have of finding these pieces of shit?" Katsuki counters.

Biting the inside of your cheek harshly, you sigh. He has a point.

—

February 20XX

The plan, unfortunately, did not work. Either someone had used the phone beyond repair, or it had already been destroyed.

Brilliant.

Katsuki lets out a growl of frustration. It took him a month to find out how to track this guy. A month. And yet you were no closer to finding these grown-ass men.

It was around that time that you started to bring newspapers of that time to the hall, scourging for any clues relating to that incident.

"If only we just knew what course this guy was in..." You mutter, consuming yourself with the papers.

Katsuki stands by the curtains with an unamused expression, hands full of yearbooks as he watches your eyes scan the papers with an immense amount of focus. He's come to know you for months at this point, and has started taking note of little things about you because the more he looks at you, the more he finds.

Like how you bite your lip whenever you're nervous, bite the inside of your cheek when you're irritated and tuck your hair behind your shoulder when you lie.

Like how terrible your piano playing is but you still continue, like how even though what you've been through is more mentally taxing than anything on the battlefield, you still—

It takes Katsuki a second that he's been staring at you for way longer than normal before he unceremoniously drops all the yearbooks on the ground with a loud thud.

You jump like a startled cat, glaring daggers at him as you scramble to get your newspapers away from him. "What the fuck, Bakugou."

His mouth coils into a pleased smirk. "Jokes on you, I'm going deaf. What was that?"

You groan, and it makes Katsuki's confidence ignite. There we go. This version of you, he can handle.

"What's the yearbooks for?" You ask instead, nearing the dusty stacks of bounded paper before flipping through them.

"I managed to round up the yearbooks from the people who still used this piece of foolscap when they were in school." Bakugou plops down on the ground with you. "It's just ten years. If we can go through every class and see if anyone has photo fucked with—"

"Photo fuck?"

"Has the same photo issues as you."

You raise an eyebrow. "Not one of your best works, Nickname Wonder."

"Whatever. Find someone with consistent photo issues throughout their time in U.A and we might be able to narrow it down."

"..."

"..."

"Seriously, photo fuck—"

"Shut it."

—

"Hey man, where are you going?" Eijiro bounds up to him like he'd shitted rainbows, and as much as he appreciates the ball of sunshine cramped into every cell in his friend, he did not want to deal with him now.

Still, he replied. "Training."

"Sick! I was just thinking of—"

"Not today." Katsuki picks up his duffle, checking the clock. "Meeting the nerd at Ground Beta. All Might wants to try something. Gotta run—"

"You've been real busy lately." Eijiro cuts off, blocking his path. "Look, me and the squad don't want to push, but...don't overwork yourself, okay?"

Katsuki almost snorts. Yeah right. Overworking himself was Izuku's job, not his. A tight schedule didn't mean a messy schedule. He'd planned enough time for sleep, eating, internship, training and hunting down people who may or may not exist.

He was being productive, not stressed.

" 'm not overworking myself," Katsuki mutters, sidestepping his red-haired friend as he walks out of the common rooms.

"Well, I'm here if you wanna talk things out!" Eijiro calls.

Katsuki gives a grunt as a response as he pushes the door open.

It's not like Eijiro would remember anyway.

—

The list of possible victims is done by the end of the week, and Katsuki takes the liberty to go for a slow walk around the school to hunt down his teachers and interrogate them. He'd like to say that he's made a good amount of progress, but Katsuki doesn't lie.

The entire procedure is pretty much a coin flip. He can confidently eliminate one or two, but can't ever be sure for the remaining. Were they just forgotten with time? Did they drop out? What if they went undercover?

A handful were even in the General Course, and getting in touch with those alumni was even more difficult.

"Look," Aizawa stares at him tiredly. He looks like he's on his 5th cup of coffee and that his eyebags can carry weights of lead. "I see you from Monday to Friday non-stop. I wish to be alone on a Saturday morning so I can mark your papers and get them back to you on Monday next week. So for God's sake, get out of my face."

"I'm trying to save someone." Katsuki prevents the door from closing with his foot, staring up at his teacher with raised eyebrows. "And from what I heard, heroes don't get breaks. Let me in, Sensei."

Aizawa squints at Katsuki. He may have lost his leg, and pretty much his quirk, but Katsuki's still sure that Aizawa kicks ass. All Aizawa had to do was say the word, and he'd get booted out.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Even so, his teacher lets him into his lair of unwashed coffee cups and Post-it notes wonderland. Katsuki doesn't bat an eye.

"Doesn't ring a bell." Aizawa shrugs, crossing names off.

"Nothing? Cause this guy was in your class." Katsuki yanks out a yearbook and slams it on the table, flipping to the bookmarked page.

On it, is a class photo of 17-year-old Aizawa surrounded by his classmates all those years ago.

"It's been a decade and a war," His teacher snaps. "Give me a break."

As his teacher's eyes survey the picture of his youth, Aizawa's finger hovers over one person's face.

"Oh, I remember him."

Katsuki's breath catches.

Aizawa-sensei trails his finger down to the names, circling the name of the face he'd pointed out that was streaked with blotchy ink.

Imasu Saito.

"He was one of the top students in our year, until his third year. Kept disappearing after class and even ditched. Dropped out right before graduation."

A thin thread circles the name, bright red just like his eyes.

This isn't just a throw-away line.

This was a lead.

"Tell me about him."

Surprised by the sudden interest, Aizawa continues. "I don't know. Last I checked, he was still living with his parents. Could be anywhere by now."

Heat burned in his throat. This could mean something. "Kenji Tanaka," Katsuki urges, iterating the name carefully "Did Saito...know Tanaka?"

Aizawa gives him an unamused expression. "Flattered to think you expect me to remember my classmates' names. And to answer your question, I wasn't even aware that there was a Kenji in my class. Now looking back, I doubt I ever interacted with him at all."

Katsuki groans, slamming his head on the table and sending paper scattering everywhere.

"Fuck humanity. This is what I get when I try to be a little fuckin' nice."

Well, a lead's a lead. Best to take advantage of it, no matter how small.

Aizawa raises an eyebrow, slides a hand to the mini-fridge and cracks a can of Red Bull.

He offers it to the blond wordlessly.

Katsuki swipes it from Aizawa's hand.

Best fuckin' teacher ever.

—

Katsuki shares his findings with you when he plops down in the hall later that evening, and you take turns to share yours.

"There's this guy that made headlines for one news issue." You show him the newspaper, and on it, he reads it out loud.

"20-Year-Old Claims The Existence Of The Non-Existent: The Hottest Flat Earther Theory."

Katsuki almost crumples the sandy paper in his hands. His mouth feels just as dry.

"Bullseye."

"Despite the catchy opening, it didn't do well. The news didn't stick, and there are no follow-ups in the issues before or after it." You push the paper down, causing Katsuki to look into your eyes. "This guy was—"

"Imasu Saito." Katsuki finishes, watching you nod in agreement. "A name. We have a name."

Katsuki looks at the decomposing tabloid, seeing gold. "Alright, spit it out. How did you even manage to find this? There were so many companies and articles—this isn't even from a big-name company. This could have taken years to uncover."

You wriggle your fingers together, shrugging. "Let's just say being invisible has its perks. And the internet. No one bats an eye towards me when I went through their archive."

"Their?"

"It's a long story."

Shrugging it off, Katsuki refocuses on their task. They have bigger fish to fry.

"We need an address." You tell him. "Do you have an address?"

Snorting, Katsuki gives you his most 'are you crazy' look. "Who do you think I am? God?"

"No, you're Katsuki Bakugou," Your eyes sear with confidence. Katsuki's felt that look somewhere. The pure, raw, doubtless look of trust behind those eyes.

He's definitely seen it somewhere before.

"You've risen from death and beat someone twice as powerful as you. You've bounced back from setback after setback. You're the winner of the Sports Festival and the top in Battle Simulation, and you've hacked into systems with firewalls so strong people on the other side of the screen think you have a Tech Quirk. You can find one measly address."

Well, when you put it like that, what is Katsuki supposed to say? Deny?

Puffing up his chest, he levels your gaze.

He can do this.

He can do this, and he will.

—

A week to the end of February, there's a text from Bakugou captioned "Look, at what I've got, you little shit."

On it, is an address of a residential apartment.

—

25 February 20XX

Katsuki could only get a permit to leave school on Friday, so it's the tail end of February when you leave school. It was only at this moment, did you allow excitement to swell in your chest. You're making progress. Much more progress than you had in years.

It was enough for you to start believing that there was hope for you after all.

And Katsuki was helping you.

Plugging the address in the GPS leads you both to your destination 30 minutes of U.A., and as you stand in front of a door with a fist raised, you glance at Katsuki.

He gives you a subtle nod.

Closing your eyes, you knock.

Please let him be home, please let him be home, please—

The door creaks open, and the door chain clinks as a lean man with lengthy limps peeks out. His eyes are cobalt blue, and when he looks at Katsuki, he squints.

"What do you want, kid?"

Wordlessly, Katsuki points to you, as if it explained everything.

All the trouble it took to find this stupid goon's house, led to one too-tall man that looked like he had survived a trainwreck.

Sunken eyes hollow, eyebags prominent, and body far too thin.

The man's orbs widen as he blinks rapidly, only just noticing your presence, even though you're standing right in front of him.

"Are you Isamu Saito?" Your voice is small, as if any louder would cause the floor to fall out from beneath you. "If so, I'd like to talk to you about this."

Rifling through your bag, you pull out the decade-year-old foolscap encapsulated in a file.

He just stands there, blinking, unflinching, mouth falling agape.

The door slams in your face.

At first you think that he wasn't who you'd assumed he was and that you had somehow gotten the wrong house.

But before the panic can sink in completely, you hear the door chain jingle as the door opens wide. The man's gaze of you is pitying, and he speaks directly to you for the first time.

"I'm Isamu Saito. Please, come inside."

.

.

.

8 Months, 2 Weeks, And 2 Days Until Time Of Death.

[eden4eva]

Let me out.

Summary: Nick is going through a rough breakup to which he falls into a depressive episode that he can’t seem to get out of.

Warnings: self harm, crying, use of cigarettes, little fluff, depression, cursing, homophobia, ed, throwing up

•Nick is not dating anyone in this fic he is single

•I actually hate this so much😀 BUT this is my first fic so i obviously don’t really know what the fuck I’m doing

“Nick you have to get up” Chris’s voice could be heard from outside nicks door, it was late, Nick had been sleeping all day but still couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed. His brothers knew he was going through a breakup and they somewhat had an idea on how much it hurt him, what they didn’t know is Nick was struggling to stay alive.

After Chris heard no answer from Nick he sighed and his footsteps could be heard walking away. Nick rolled over so he was on his back, staring up at the ceiling.He let out a shaky breath, the memories of his ex boyfriend play in his head, he remembered the night they had broken up, and how Nick caught him kissing a girl, sadness pangs in his chest as he remembers how he was dating a homophobic asshole who was only with him for a bet. It hurt, and it hurt bad. Nick bit his bottom lip as a tear rolled down the side of his face he let out small sobs as he cried into his sheets stained from previous tears, he sat up and put his face in his hands rubbing his eyes roughly “fucking pathetic” he mumbled as he threw the blankets off of his body and made his way to his bathroom.

He knew he shouldn’t but he simply couldn’t help himself, Nick had convinced himself that the only way to silence his mind was to bleed, so that’s what he did. he was standing in the bathroom, a razor blade in his hand, the metal was a burning cold as it rested in his palm. he stared at the razor. Taking in how the edges were jagged like it had been worn out, he wondered what it would feel like to have it drag across his pale freckled skin. If it would burn or if he would feel relieved, either way, it didn’t matter he deserved it.

~~~

He starred back at himself in the mirror, a scowl on his face, he hated himself for this, he looked back down at the razor that rested in between his finger tips, blood dripped down the end of it, splattering on the counter. He gulped and brought the razor back to his fore arm, he pressed it against his skin and swiped, hissing and squinting his eyes shut as the pain settled “fucking cat scratches” Nick groaned staring at his arm. The words “go deeper” repeated in his mind as he zoned out, without thinking he pressed the razor into his arm again wanting, needing to go deeper he bit his lip and jumped when he was suddenly interrupted by a knock on his door. he dropped the razor on the tile floor droplets of blood splattered on the floor and counter “shit” Nick whispered.

“Are you okay in there Nick” Chris said through the other side of the bathroom door “y-yeah just a minute!” Nick yelled, panicked he picked the razor back up and quickly put it in the trash can that rested by the counter, blood still dripping down his arm, he grabbed some tissue and tried to not whine out when he pressed the tissue to his arm, it quickly soaking up the blood, “what do you need Chris” Nick said staring at his arm, still cleaning himself up. “Me and Matt made dinner, come down when your ready” Chris stated before leaving quickly leaving no room for argument, knowing Nick would try to talk his way out of eating. Nick grumbled and took the tissue off his arm, whimpering, tears pricked in his eyes as he looked at himself in the mirror “stop fucking crying” he told himself, he leaned on the counter and sighed running his hand through his hair. he gripped his hair and rubbed the tears away from his eyes. Standing up fully he took a deep breath and opened his bathroom door, quickly making his way to his closest he found a long sleeve and carefully put it on, hissing when the cloth brushed his cuts. He checked himself in the mirror one last time and frowned, he looked horrible, he has bags under his eyes, tear stained cheeks, and his unwashed greasy hair felt like the finishing touch.

Nick made his way down the stairs, seeing Matt and Chris eating, their legs propped up on the table, with their plates in their laps, the boys didn’t seem to notice Nick coming down the stairs. Nick felt disgust churn in his stomach at the thought of eating, “what did you guys make” Nick asked in a monotone tone, almost catching his brothers off guard “we didn’t make anything crazy it’s just pasta, we made you a plate it’s in the microwave” Matt said not taking his eyes off the romcom that was blasting through the tv. Nick slowly made his way to the microwave he grimaced at the food, not because it looked bad, but because he knew in the next 30 minutes he would be on the floor puking it up into his toilet.

~earlier~

Chris walked downstairs seeing Matt on the couch “I told him dinner was ready” Chris said with a sigh making his way to the couch, plopping down next to Matt. “You didn’t talk to him?” Matt asked yet it was sounding more like a statement than a question. “No..he was in the bathroom” Chris bit the inside of his cheek as he grabbed his food that was resting on the table, placing it in his lap he leaned back and scooted his food around with his fork, almost like a toddler who had to eat something they didn’t like. “I don’t think-”Chris cut himself off before he said anything but it still caught the attention of Matt, “you don’t think…what?” Matt said raising a brow, turning his head to look at Chris “I just don’t think Nick is…you know..doing the best right now..” Chris stated quietly “well yeah- obviously he’s going through a break up, of course he’s not going to be one hundred percent.” Matt said, Chris sighed and put his fork down “no- well i obviously know that but I think it might be worse than we think..” Chris said turning his head to look at Matt. Matt put his fork down, his eyebrows pinching together as he bit the inside of his cheek “what are you talking about.” Matt stated narrowing his eyes at Chris, “I just think the break up might have hit him harder than we think” Chris mumbled not thinking he would get this far in the conversation, he instead thought Matt would tell him to stop overthinking it and that Nick is fine. “Chris what are you getting at?” Matt said again, more frustrated that Chris won’t spit it out already “fuck Matt I don’t know! I think Nick might have depression” Chris said quite loudly. Matt put his plate down on the table, “what the fuck are you talking about. Nick doesn’t have depression he’s just upset” Matt said, his eyes narrowed and his lips partly open. “Think about it Matt, he’s always in his fucking room, he zones out way more than he use to and he almost has no energy!” Chris argued back, frustration clear on both of their faces “ok yeah- but that doesn’t mean he has depression! And the breakup probably did hit him harder than we think but just give him time!” Matt yelled. “Matt just listen to me! Why wo-” “because why are you thinking the worse!” Silence awkward silence.

~present~

Nick was seated between his two brothers, there was a heavy tension in the air as they sat in silence, the only sound being heard was the background noise of the tv and the sound of silverware being clanked together.

Nick shifted in his seat uncomfortably, he stared down at his food grimacing. He didn’t notice how his hands were shaking or how his lower lip was quivering, Nick picked up his fork with his shaky hand and closed is eyes. He brought the food to his mouth and almost gaged at the feeling of it on his tongue. Tears were filing his eyes as he somehow managed to swallow the food, “I think I’m done I’m not that hungry anyway” Nick said quickly as he quickly stood up and brought his food to the trash, scraping his plate clean and setting it in the sink.

He could feel Matt and Chris’s eyes on him as he quickly made his way up the stairs. He opened the door to his bathroom and stopped, staring at the toilet he felt as if his legs had a mind of their own as he walked over to it and sat down on his knees in front of it.

Using two of his fingers he he slowly opened his mouth and leaned forward, pushing his fingers into his mouth, his actions paused as he thought for a moment is this really worth it? I don’t even think I’m fat so why am I doing this? Why can’t I eat like a normal person? What’s wrong with me..

~Flash back~

“God you’re so fucking fat!” His boyfriend yelled as he slammed the bathroom door shut, locking himself in there. Nick was staying at boyfriends house for the night, an argument broke out when Nick asked who Selena is because he saw the text message pop up on his phone reading,

Selena🩷

Hey, you still coming over tonight😘

When Nick brought up the message asking who she is, his boyfriend got defensive and ended up telling Nick who she was. “Well maybe if you weren’t fucking huge I wouldn’t have cheated on you!”

~end flashback~

Nick jammed the fingers down his throat, gagging he attempted to push them farther, tears pouring down his cheeks he gaged one last time before puking. He gripped the end of his bathroom counter and sobbed, he was shaking again, sobbing in his bathroom on his knees throwing up his dinner how pathetic.

“God fuck” Nick sobbed gripping the counter harder, he stood with shaky legs. Wiping his mouth he flushed the toilet, tears still streaming down his face. He lifted his shirt off his head throwing it on the floor. He looked at himself in the mirror, disappoint clear on his face, he looked at his arm in the mirror his eyes taking in the dried blood and the opened wounds. his fingers traced the cuts some of the cuts we’re already scabbing.

Scoffing at himself he opens the bathroom door making his way to his closet, grabbing a white wife beater and throwing it on.

He walked to his bed side table opening it and grabbing out a pack of cigarettes and a red lighter. Grabbing a cigarette out of the pack placing it between his lips, he walked to his window opening it and lighting the cigarette. He placed the lighter down on the window seal and rested his arms on it, he inhaled and blew out the smoke looking up at the sky. The cigarette placed between his two fingers his eyes scanned over each star, the cool wind blowing his hair as he took a drag of his cigarette. The night sky is aways able to calm his nerves.

~flashback~

Nick sobbed in his brothers arms, Matt holding him tightly while Chris played with Nicks hair. They were sitting outside as the night sky sounded them, “it’s going to be okay Nick he was an asshole anyway” Chris said soothingly still petting his hair, Nick hugged Matt harder sobbing into his shoulder. Chris and Matt shared glances before Nick looks up at the sky, surprisingly, he smiles he always loved night time. He loves how cold it gets and how bright the moon and stars are. Matt and Chris look up as well, Nick rests his head on Matt’s shoulder, Chris wraps his arm around both of his brothers. Nick couldn’t be more happy in that moment. if only he knew it went down hill from here.

~end flashback~

Nick took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out on the ashtray that sat on his nightstand. He rubbed his cut up arm and looked down at it, his eyes glanced up to his bathroom and back down at his forearm. Making his way to the bathroom he opened up the medicine cabinet and grabbed some bandaids. opening one by one he gently put them over his cuts, hissing when the sticky part got stuck to the actual cut. “God this is so fucked” Nick said opening another bandaid.

~~~

Nick sighed and collapsed in his bed, immediately wrapping his body in his blankets. He hated how empty his bed felt, hated how he couldn’t wrap his arms around someone and bury his face in their neck, hated how no one could rub his back while he drifted into sleep.

His heart pangs in his chest, his lower lip quivering as he feels tears brim his eyes I’m such a fuck up, a suicidal loser… Nick thought as a tear escaped his eye. Squeezing his eyes shut he bit his pillow to stifle his sobs. Wrapping his arms around it, imagining it was someone who actually wanted him. If no one wants him in real life you could at least dream, right?

Thank you for reading I absolutely hate this😭😭 but I still hope you enjoyed!

[writingsbychlo]

How do you think Az would react to his mate bringing home a stray puppy? He seems like a bit of a clean freak and we all know pets tend to make a mess....

personally I don’t think az would ever have a dog, he screams cat-person 😅 so I’ve answered this as she brings home a stray kitten!

az would definitely freak out at first, and insist it cannot stay. no matter how sad it makes his girlfriend, no matter how much she pouts, “it’s not staying!”

after a bit of back and forth about it, they agree it can stay for the night, and only because az refuses to let her wander back out into the night to start trying to find a shelter that’s open this late. and az freaks again when she washes it off in their bathtub and it scratches her while scrabbling. it scratches his carpets. and it sharpens it’s claws in his favourite armchair. it meows all night, and when it ‘makes biscuits’ on his chest, he wakes up with scratches. it comes back every time he gets rid of it. it leaves fur all over his pillow.

he gets hardly any sleep knowing it’s in the house, and he wants it gone. immediately.

he gets up early in the morning to get a box and get it ready to go. he finds a box, but now it’s pawing at his leg, meowing as he eats his breakfast, and he figures it’s hungry. he puts a tin of tuna down and it purrs as it eats. it makes az smile.

“you’re a loud eater.”

and it makes a mess everywhere. az is mad at it again. but then it jumps on in the kitchen counter, almost knocking over his coffee, and az is about to yell, until it bumps it’s head against his chin. he’s speechless. it does it again. he just scoffs. it does it a third time. before the fourth time he puts it back on the floor but doesn’t say anything else.

however, half an hour later when azriel makes to stand up, he doesn’t realise it literally just sat there next to him. he stands on its tail, and the sound it makes actually breaks his heart. it bolts away from him and he genuinely feels awful, because that was a deviating noise. his heart hurts.

it’s hiding under a chair and he has to tempt it out, and it scratches his hand. “guess I deserved that.” but he eventually gets it out. upside down in his arms, scratching its belly as he whispers that he’s sorry. it ‘makes biscuits’ in the air, and it makes az smile. eventually it starts purring.

az gives it a few more scratchies, but he can’t dare to leave it alone now. he just carries it. he gets his coffee and his book and sits in his favourite armchair to read. and he just puts the kitten on the arm. it sharpens its claws again but az just sighs now. “stop it… cat.”

and when it starts loudly locking itself – it’s asshole – right next to him until he’s cringing, “you’re a bad… cat. … what are you?”

and so he totally scoops it up and looks under it. and that’s when his girl wakes up and comes downstairs and asks him what the fuck he’s doing. “trying to decide if small-orange-bastard-boy is a fitting name by checking for a penis, obviously.”

“you can’t call a cat that!”

“I can call my cat whatever I want.”

“I think you’ll find it’s my— are we keeping it?!”

and az just smiles and shrugs. “I suppose. I realised how many boyfriend-points this gives me.”

“uh-huh.”

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel by the Wings - ELEVEN

Chapter Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

You were on the edge of sleep and wakefulness when someone gently touched your temple. Raising your head, you blinked the sleep out of your eyes and shifted to look up at Bradley. He gently squeezed the back of your neck, like scruffing a cat, and jerked his chin forward.

“We’re here,” he murmured. Jake was already out of the truck and unlocking the door to his apartment. Bradley gathered up your purse and other belongings while you slowly pulled yourself up into a seated position. His hand settled on your lower back and he slid out of the truck, ensuring that you were steady as you followed after him. The rain had slowed into a small drizzle now and you were grateful that it wasn’t storming as hard.

Lightning cracked across the sky and you jumped. Bradley immediately tightened his hold on your waist, tucking his larger form over you as if to protect you from the storm. The rain started to pick up again and the two of you dashed into the warm glow emanating from Jake’s open front door.

“I’m making you some toast, darlin’,” Jake called from the kitchen. “Want anything on it?”

“Butter and cinnamon?” you asked as you kicked off your shoes. Bradley locked up behind you as you trudged into the kitchen. Jake stood at the toaster, his back turned to you. You paused at the sight of him just standing there, bathed in the glowing light of his overhead lamps, and preparing food for you. It was so incredibly domestic that it nearly hurt.

He turned at the sound of your steps and stepped forward. His hands hovered over your hips as he bent down to check your eyes.

“No fever,” he reported. “Feel any better?”

You nodded, tilting your head up to take in the sight of those bright blue eyes. His hands came up to cup your cheeks and he stroked his thumbs along your jaw.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, searching your face for some sign of anger or frustration over your earlier argument. But he couldn’t find any of that earlier fire.

“I am too. And I really need to go brush my teeth.”

He cracked a grin at your comment and let you go so you could brush your teeth in the bathroom. Bradley leaned against the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room, his brown eyes watching you depart.

“She okay?” he asked once you were out of sight.

“Yeah. You want any food while I’m making it?” Rooster seemed to consider his options as he sat down on one of the island stools and then smirked.

“Can I get some toast too, Gordon Ramsey?”

Jake rolled his eyes and flipped him off, but he dutifully extracted four more pieces of whole wheat bread from the bag. Might as well join in on the fun.

“Are you okay with me being here?” Bradley asked. Jake shrugged, focusing on spreading the right amount of butter on your toast. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder at his fellow pilot.

“I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re asking. You picked up the phone when I didn’t. I told you, you’re a good man, Bradshaw.”

Bradley snorted. “For such a cocky asshole, you sure love beating yourself up. That was always the problem with you.”

“Oh? You want to psychoanalyze me here?” Jake turned around to lean back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. Bradley shrugged.

“Always gotta be the best, but you can’t take a compliment from anyone. It’s not a good look on you, Hangman.”

Jake stepped closer, thinking back to the way Bradley would groan into his kiss and whimper out little praises that shot down his spine and straight into Jake’s dick. Bradley pressed his lips together and raised one eyebrow, as if he could sense what Jake was thinking.

At the back of each man’s mind was the mission looking over their heads. They were failing. Someone wasn’t expected to come home, even if they did get it right. A dogfight…

As if you heard a cue to return, your soft footsteps padded across the floor and you appeared from the hallway, rubbing at your tired eyes. The hem of Jake’s shirt hung down across your thighs, nearly obscuring his shorts and leaving you looking impossibly small compared to the two hulking men before you.

“It’s only seven,” you complained. “It’s too early to sleep but I’m exhausted.”

Jake slid a plate towards you with two pieces of cinnamon adorned toast. You eagerly snatched up a piece as you slid onto the stool next to Bradley. Your eyes shut in pleasure as you ate your first bite and both men pointedly looked away.

“Did your mom teach you to cook?” you asked Jake. He nodded and laid another plate in front of Bradley before taking a bite of his own concoction.

“Remind me to thank her,” you hummed in appreciation. Something sparked in his eyes at the mention of you interacting with his mother. Bradley stared down at his plate, a stark realization of his singularity in the world settling on his shoulders. He focused on this damn cinnamon toast and took a large bite, his head raising instantly so he could look between the two idiots grinning at him.

“Good, right?” you crowed.

“Hell yeah,” he said. “And it looks like you’re feeling a lot better.” He punctuated his statement with nudging the ginger ale bottle at you and you gratefully accepted it. There was something off about the smile you plastered on your lips. It was wooden, less genial and relaxed. It was as if you wanted him to see you smiling, so he wouldn’t question you about anything else.

“Your car is at a local shop I trust,” Jake said. “Kylie will fix the battery and make sure nothing else is wrong. She also won’t cheat you by making you pay hundreds of dollars. It should be done by the time I get off tomorrow so I can drive you.”

“I can just ask Penny,” you chirped. “Actually, I’ll text her right now and ask if she wants to deal with me hanging around for the day.”

Your phone was in your hand before Jake could argue and he sent an exasperated look towards Bradley but the brunet merely smirked and raised his toast in salute before taking another bite.

“Sweet, Penny said it’s fine. In fact, we have to balance the books tomorrow so she’ll make me do math. Hey, is there anything on TV?”

You drifted away from the counter and took a spot on Jake’s long, plush couch. Jake’s brow furrowed in concern at your dismissive attitude. He and Bradley shared a quick look of understanding before both men joined you on the couch. Bradley snatched the remote out of your hand and started flipping through the channels, ignoring your scandalized gasp. In retaliation, you leaned closer to Jake and nestled into his side. He stiffened just slightly but quickly relaxed when you nestled your head onto his shoulder.

“Oh, sweet, history channel.” Bradley landed on the show which conveniently was on an episode about pilots in combat. The narrator droned on about the tremendous difficulties pilots faced in World War II. How they could be shot down or bombed or malfunction or-

You grabbed the remote and quickly changed the channel to anything other than that. Sure, technology was improved and planes were built better, but you couldn’t bear to think about the two men on either side of you facing those same difficulties.

After the day you had, you just couldn’t.

The last hour of Titanic was playing on whatever channel you had landed on and you settled back onto the couch cushions. Sure, it was depressing as fuck, but at least it was a boat and not a plane that sunk.

Jake and Bradley did the smart thing and kept their traps shut as Rose and Jack sprinted through the hallways of the sinking ship. Your eyes were growing heavy by the time the pivotal scene on the floating doorway came up. Jake stroked your back as you settled your head in his lap, your legs tangled with Bradley’s as he laid on the other side of the couch.

The song in the background, for some inexplicable reason, made your breathing hitch. The woman’s haunting voice mixed with the shouts of the sailors searching for survivors struck you in the chest.

“Come Josephine, in my flying machine, going up she goes, up she goes,” you whispered along to the words. Jake’s ministrations made you feel even sleepier and you were dimly aware of Bradley’s thumb rubbing along your calf.

“Go to sleep, angel,” Jake murmured. “We’ll be here in the morning.”

You would allow yourself to sink into this brief moment of peace for now. With the morning came another day and another opportunity for the world to crush you. For now, you would take this moment to just be content.

Tag List: @mizzzpink​ @xoxabs88xox​ @dreaminglandsworld​ @khaylin27​ @loveforaugust​ @phoenixssugarbaby​ @atarmychick007​ @mak-32​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @krismdavis​

[aromanticannibal]

oo oo yes, i would like to hear more about...

ghost deku yee yee

Shinsou Hitoshi does not have curshes

and The Story of a Very Loved Kittycat!

!!!

Ok ghost deku is a sad one hehe. tw for suicide

Katsuki hands Aizawa his homework quietly, ignoring Kaminari's constant stream of words behind him. He can feel Izuku's presence around his shoulders, observing Aizawa's reactions as he looks at the short answers.  "Stay after class, Bakugou."  Told you you should have written better answers  I know, Katsuki thinks. He stands in front of Aizawa's desk as the last of his classmates clear out of the room, sending him thumbs ups and mouthing good luck at him half-heartedly. Aizawa glares at him, it’s unclear if it's intentional or not. He sighs.  "It's not like you to half-ass your assignments, Bakugou. What's going on," He asks.  Katsuki's only half surprised to not get scolded. The old man is soft, whether he likes it or not, almost three years of being taught by him made it obvious.  Katsuki doesn't answer. What the fuck is he supposed to say? I’m haunted by the ghost of my childhood best friend who killed himself because of me? Aizawa sighs again. "Listen, if the subject triggered you, it's fine, but I'll need you to go talk to the counselor again–"  "It's not that," Katsuki says.

second one is monoshin galore bc i love this ship but i don't ever write about it. title is very inaccurate given shinsou does very much have crushes.

"Okay, a boy then. Who is it!" Ashido asks, going back to the subject at hand. Hitoshi's brain tells him to not say anything and Hitoshi's heart tells him to shut the fuck up but he speaks anyway. "Blonde. Not Aoyama," He says, clarifying the second Aoyama starts gasping. He pouts.  "You're cute, but not my type," He tries to console, and Aoyama brightens up again. Ashido hums theatrically in thought.  "Kaminari?" "Same comment. He is very cute," He admits.  Kaminari is nice, but Hitoshi has more fun just chilling with him than anything else. Jirou sighs in what he identifies as relief and he mercifully ignores it.  "Uh, Ojirou," Uraraka chimes in. Hitoshi shakes his head. "He doesn't like me. He's cool I guess," He mumbles. Yaoyorozu frowns but doesn't say anything, in that distinct way Midoriya does when he thinks Hitoshi is saying stupid shit (except he does talk, the asshole).  "Bakugou?" Ashido says incredulously, and Hitoshi shakes his head, turning his nose up. "Hell no." Whatever he has with Midoriya is disgusting enough without me being included. Ashido sighs in real relief and Hagakure bursts out laughing from the corner she's tucked in.  "Wait, there's no more blondes in our class. Oh my God no," Ashido says, finally realizing she shouldn't have asked. Hitoshi smiles deviously (and lopsided, because there's no world in which he's not lopsided during Girl's Night with his nails painted bright yellow and a blonde lounging around his shoulders). 

last one is cat shinsou fic thats been lost in my wips forever, god help it .

Hitoshi jumps awake when he hears the sound of metal. He panics, wondering if someone got in the house, if a foster sibling lost control of their quirk, god what if his fosters had enough of him and are going to stab him–  He tries to get up only to fall back and slide off into the abyss – it turns out, wooden planks – before getting caught.  Right, he's a cat. He's at Aizawa's house. It's fine.  He looks up to see Aizawa with some chicken hanging from his mouth. He'd laugh but he's still coming down from his panic, and he isn't sure if cats can even laugh.  "Sorry, kitty. Didn't mean to scare you," Aizawa says, his mouth still full. He seems to remember about his chicken situation and actually eats it, putting Hitoshi on the dinner table and bending down to get what fell, a big spoon.  "I know we keep putting you on the tables and counters but when you're bigger, you can't do it anymore, alright?" Aizawa says half-heartedly. He still looks tired. Hitoshi wonders what hour it is, but he can't see the clock from where he is. He looks at what Aizawa's eating. Chicken soup, it seems, and Hitoshi almost drools at the smell. He didn't have chicken soup in so long. Hitoshi hesitantly gets closer to the soup, but Aizawa chuckles and picks him up.  "You can't eat that, there's garlic in it." 

[sebastiansgaycousin]

Sebastian Sallow and the Mystery of the Black Cat (O.G x Animagus!Reader x Sebastian Sallow)

Sebastian meets a cat who behaves like an asshole. He's a little bit dumb, very jealous and very, very much in love with his friends.

-

Reader can be read as cis or as a transman. Reader can also be read as any race. Also posted to my Ao3

Words: 3,026

The first time Sebastian saw the black cat, it had been in the potions classroom.

It was laying on top of the counter, next to the stove Sebastian was using. Amber eyes cracked ever so slightly open when Sebastian approached the potion station with an outstretched hand.

The black fur felt soft underneath his fingertips. Its coat was shiny and well kept. It had white socks on every foot except its back left paw. The one on the front right was up high compared to the others too. Soft, pink toe beans greeted Sebastian when the cat turned on its back. Sebastian rubbed underneath its chin, the cat purring appreciatively.

"Well, aren't you adorable? Are you professor Sharp's cat?" He said to the cat. The cat just purred in response, eyes closing. Sebastian chuckled and checked in with his potion. It was a batch of wiggenweld potions he made for the new fifth year, at his new friend's request. The batch was finished, glowing a neon green in the cauldron. Perfect. He started filling up the glass flasks with the liquid. Quickly, he realised he didn't have enough flasks.

The cat, who had been staring at the student for a while now, meowed. Sebastian booped its nose. "I'm going to pick up some more flasks. Can you keep an eye on my cauldron, little friend?" He asked. Something sparkled inside the honey coloured eyes. It meowed again and started licking its paw. Sebastian took it as a yes.

That was his mistake. The second he had his back turned to the cat, he heard the sound of glass breaking.

Sebastian quickly turned around to see if the cat was okay. The cat was very much alright. In fact, it was calmly sitting on the counter, looking down at the broken potion on the ground. It noticed Sebastian was looking. Its paw moved towards the next potion, softly pushing the flask to the edge of the counter. "Don't you dare do it," Sebastian whispered, loud enough for the cat to hear.

The mischievous eyes were locked with Sebastian's as the cat pushed the other potion off the desk too. A high pitched squeal left Sebastian's mouth as he rushed to the potion station. The cat jumped off and ran out of the classroom. "No, don't you dare run off you little bastard!" Sebastian exclaimed as he kneeled next to the puddle on the floor.

"Mister Sallow!" The door to Sharp's office swung open with quite a lot of force. It slammed against the stone next to it with a loud bang. The ex-auror took a second to assess the situation in front of him. Sebastian still sat on his knees next to the puddle, though fear was visible on his face. "Mister Sallow. Would you mind explaining to me what this is all about?" Sharp shot a piercing glare Sebastian's way.

"Sir, your cat - it threw my potion on the floor." Sebastian tried to explain.

Sharpe frowned at this. "Don't be ridiculous, Mister Sallow. I don't have a cat." He stated firmly. "Now, are you going to clean that up?"

The second time was while Sebastian was in the library. For once he was not sneaking in the restricted section. He was sitting at a table with his nose buried in his astronomy book. He felt how something warm jumped onto his lap. The Slytherin looked down to see the cat (who he had named Bastard since the potion incident) settle on his lap. It looked at Sebastian with a cocky look in its eyes.

The intensity of Bastard's stare was like a challenge. Sebastian couldn't figure out what it wanted or what it was going to do. Regrettably, he took too long as the black cat climbed onto the table and laid down on top of his homework.

Sebastian groaned.

"Please leave. I need to finish 20 inches on the discovery of Jupiter," he asked, trying to stay polite even though he had no reason to be. It was an animal, after all.

"Meow." The cat stated, factually. It got up and knocked his book off the table when it jumped off. It shot Sebastian a glare and Sebastian felt guilty for sending the cat away. Then, Bastard disappeared around the corner.

Sebastian wondered whose cat it was so he could tell them how rude Bastard was. With the amount of cats that had free reign to go wherever they pleased inside of the school, Sebastian doubted he’d ever find them. He groaned and bent over to pick up his book and saw that the paper had folded and one of the pages was torn at the top.

“Hey, Sebastian! I didn’t know you were studying here as well!” His new friend walked up to him and put his books down on the opposite side of the table. Then, he sat down with a heart warming smile on his face. Sebastian waved a little and put the book down on the table again.

“Hello there. I was trying to work on my paper for astronomy, but someone’s cat decided against that. Did you see it leave?” Sebastian asked. His friend frowned at the question.

“Cat? Sebastian, what are you talking about? I didn’t see anything,” He looked very worried at Sebastian. The latter was too stunned to speak. His friend took Sebastian’s hand. “Maybe you’re overworked. You should take a break! Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks to unwind a little.”

* 

The third time, it was in the Slytherin common room.

Bastard was laying next to Ominis on the couch, purring away. Ominis was reading a book and petting the cat at the same time, sitting close to the fire. Sebastian narrowed his eyes when he walked in and saw the scene in front of him.

“Ominis. What is that cat doing next to you?” He asked, sitting down on the other couch.

Ominis didn’t move to answer, fingers still going over the page. “He’s a cat, Sebastian. He doesn’t do much, besides sleeping the day away.” He said. The cat cracked open an eye to look at Sebastian, almost as if it heard and understood the conversation between the friends.

“Wait. Bastard is a male cat?” Sebastian blurted out the question using the nickname he’d given the cat. Ominous sighed and closed his book. He leaned over to place the object down on the table. The cat took this as a sign to climb onto his lap and make himself comfortable.

“You named him Bastard?”

“Yeah, the little shit has only ever thrown my items onto the floor. Including potions in the classroom, which wasn’t fun to explain to Sharp.”

Ominis chuckled at his friend. Sebastian wished he was the cat, he wanted to sleep on Ominis' lap, too. He ignored that thought and opted to simply glare daggers into the soft asshole currently purring at the way Ominis scratched behind his ears. Again, the cat appeared to look at him with a ton of cockiness in his amber eyes.

The battle for Ominis' attention was on.

*

The weeks after, Bastard started appearing more and more around Sebastian. The cat made Sebastian's life a hell in a way the wizard didn't think a cat was able to. Constantly breaking stuff, laying on top of items Sebastian needed to use and mostly just sticking to Ominis' side.

Sebastian couldn't believe it either, but he was jealous of a cat.

Then there was his friend. The prodigy had been there to listen to his complaints about the animal. They were very kind and considerate of Sebastian, who'd only been complaining lately. Even now, in the dorm.

"I don't understand it, really. What does that thing have that I don't?" He was laying on his back, head hanging over the edge as he burned a hole into Ominis' bed with his eyes. They'd been hanging out for a while now, on their rainy Saturday afternoon.

His handsome friend - who was practising some charms on his own bed - shrugged. "Whiskers? A tail? We could be here for a while if I need to list every single thing the cat has that you don't." He commented as he made an apple float in the air.

Sebastian groaned in frustration.

"Sebastian, calm down. You're jealous of a cat. Just confess your undying love to Ominis already, then you can be scratched behind your ears and be told you're a good boy too." The fifth year looked away from the floating apple, turning his head to look at Sebastian. Sebastian, meanwhile, flushed a deep scarlet.

"I don't know what you're talking about. And it sounds like you're thinking of a dog, not a cat."

"My point still stands. I really don't mind hearing you out, but it's painful to watch how much you're in love with Ominis," his friend paused to pluck the apple out of the air. Sebastian watched as he took a bite out of the apple and he felt something familiar stir in his stomach. The same feeling he got when he looked at Ominis. He filed the thought away in the furthest dusty cabinet in his brain. "Watching you deny your feelings is way more painful than the cruciatus curse. And I would know, since you cast it on me."

Sebastian groaned. "I told you I was sorry."

"I know, it was a joke. I like watching you squirm. Makes you look prettier." He replied. He got up and tossed the remains of his apple in the bin. "Anyway. I'm heading out, you're being boring. See you later!"

Sebastian watched his friend leave. A soft blush was present on his face. Did he just call Sebastian pretty? Purely out of instinct, Sebastian got up to chase them and ask about it. When he left the dorm room however, he was greeted by an empty hallway.

*

Truthfully. He'd only put his wand onto the floor next to him to tie his shoelaces again when something soft and dark rushed past him. Sebastian had looked up to see the cocky fucker peak just around the corner, his wand in Bastard's little mouth.

"Give it back." He commanded the cat. Bastard looked up at Sebastian, eyes yet again filled with mischief. The Slytherin was certain the cat understood him, especially since he was always challenging the human. Sebastian got back up and walked over.

Of course, Bastard had other plans and ran away. Sebastian cursed and ran after the cat. They ran through the corridors of Hogwarts, Sebastian focused on the white tip of Bastard's tail. If he was able to pay any attention, he'd have noticed the hallways were all abandoned.

Sebastian crashed into someone after coming around a corner. He was barely able to save himself and the person, who happened to be none other than his best friend. Holding Ominis tightly, he checked where Bastard went. He was sitting on a bench, looking at the two students with an amused look in his eyes. "Sorry Ominis," Sebastian said, eyes not leaving the amber eyes. "I was chasing Bastard, he took my wand."

Ominis appeared to be amused. "Oh, really now? A cat took your wand?" Sebastian wanted to punch and/or kiss the smugness off of Ominis’ beautiful face. Ominis had no reason to be smug either, it was not like he made the cat…

“Did you make the cat bother me?” The accusation came out a bit harsher than he had meant to. He was just so sick of the animal bothering him so much. And he wanted answers, too.

His best friend started laughing out loud. He didn’t say anything, just turned around and tried to find the cat with his wand. He eventually did and kneeled down in front of Bastard. Ominis took the wand from the jaws of the monster. “Thank you,” he said. He leaned down to kiss the top of Bastard’s hair. The cat purred and rubbed his head against Ominis’ cheek.

Sebastian’s wand was placed into his hand. Sebastian quietly thanked his friend, glad he didn’t have to get close to Bastard himself. “You owe me,” Ominis turned back to Sebastian with a grin on his face.

“Yeah yeah. Just tell me when I can do something for you,” Sebastian replied, rolling his eyes with a smile. He thought Ominis was joking. Ominis stepped closer to Sebastian.

“I know something,” Ominis stated, something indescribable on his face. Sebastian had never seen this expression on his friend’s face. It was a mix of determination and something else. It made Sebastian feel equal parts scared and attracted to his friend. Ominis took a step closer towards Sebastian, now standing in Sebastian’s personal space.

Was this still a joke? What was Ominis doing? Blood rushed to his face, turning him a nice scarlet red. He could smell Ominis now, it did things to Sebastian. Did it suddenly get hotter? “W-What do you propose?” He stuttered. He stuttered . Anne would probably laugh her ass off if Sebastian ever told her this.

Sebastian’s brain short-circuited when he felt Ominis’ lips on his own. Out of reflex more than anything, he took a step back; the kiss had been way too intense for Sebastian’s unprepared mind. He took the time to stare at his best friend, mouth wide open. Ominis now looked a bit insecure, toying with the sleeves of his robes a bit.

“Are you… Mocking me?” Sebastian asked, softly. Ominis’ eyes widened at the question, clearly confused.

“Sebastian. I’d never mock you with something like this. I’ve wanted this, I’ve wanted you for the longest time now,” Ominis confessed, making Sebastian feel dizzy with just his words. “I was too stupid to see you wanted me, too. Until he pointed it out to me.”

Sebastian folded his arms across his chest. “Explain. Now.” He gave his friend a stern look. “This doesn’t mean no, by the way. I just want to know who he is.”

His best friend smiled a little. “It’s our friend. He… Put things in perspective for me. How I feel about you, for example. He said it was obvious you were interested in me as well. I started noticing he was right, so I decided to take the leap with both of you.” Ominis’ explanation made sense. Sebastian decided he disliked that their friend read Ominis better than he himself did. Ominis had always been hard to read, Sebastian only started being able to read him better last year. And their friend knew him for less than a year and figured him out pretty quickly.

Sebastian blinked. “Wait. Both of you?” he asked.

He saw how Bastard jumped off the stone bench behind Ominis. Then, suddenly, their friend was standing behind Ominis, stretching out his limbs. Sebastian let out a high pitched squeal and jumped. Their friend chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around Ominis.

“He means you and me. Because, well, I like you both,” His soothing voice answered Sebastian’s question instead of Ominis. “Sorry, Seb. I haven’t been entirely honest to you. I’m an Animagus.”

Sebastian pointed at the boy. “You’re the one who keeps messing with me! I knew you understood the things we were saying!” He loudly exclaimed. He tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach at the sight of his friends standing in front of him like this. “How long have you known, Ominis?”

The memory of seeing Ominis and Bastard (in cat form) relaxing on the couch in the common room came to mind. It kind of pissed Sebastian off, if he was being honest. Ominis, ever perceptive of his friend’s behaviour, spoke up. “I’ve known for a few days. When he confessed his feelings for both of us to me. We were devising a plan to confess to you, though I didn’t know he was going to do it out of nowhere like this.”

Bastard let go of Ominis and moved to stand next to him. He reached for Sebastian’s hand and squeezed it tight. “I just couldn’t wait any longer. I want you two to be mine,” he stated, pretty eyes darting between his two friends. Sebastian’s blush returned to his face. He let himself be pulled closer by Bastard, his two friends now in his personal space. He watched as Bastard moved behind Ominis again and whispered something in Ominis’ ear, then kissed his cheek. Ominis’ cheeks turned a dusty pink as he blushed. It made Sebastian’s stomach flip.

A hand cupped Sebastian’s jaw. It slid up and behind his head, fingers weaving through his brown hair. It was Bastard (he really wasn’t going to let go of this nickname), who looked at him with the mischievous eyes Sebastian had come to know from his cat form. Honestly, how he didn’t put two and two together and figured it out quickly was beyond him. He didn’t have time to think as he saw Ominis lean in again.

This time, Sebastian was prepared for the kiss. Ominis’ lips were soft and gentle for no reason, but they were. They went beyond Sebastian's wildest dreams and suddenly it felt all too real. He closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around Ominis as they kissed. He felt another set of lips below his ear; they were a bit rougher, more chapped but pleasant nonetheless.

Eventually, Ominis pulled back for air. His lips were red and swollen and he looked soft. His guard was fully down now. It warmed Sebastian’s heart. Then, Bastard kissed him, but only briefly. He smirked and appeared to be satisfied with himself.

Sebastian sighed. “Fine. If Bastard stops throwing my stuff off surfaces, I’ll be yours.”

The Animagus laughed. “Aw, you’re really going to keep using that nickname for me? And we only just got together, sweetcheeks.”

Sebastian cringed at that nickname. “Shut up, before I change my mind.”

Again, Bastard laughed and Ominis chuckled too. Sebastian rolled his eyes and rested his head on Ominis' shoulder, blowing air into Bastard's neck. It was the happiest he had felt in a few years and silently, he really didn't mind his new lover's prankis if it ended up like this.

[thebelovedmuse]

Copycat

Fandom: Be Kind My Neighbor

Summary: People are disappearing in Baths and you make the mistake of being caught out after dark.

Content: Violence, swearing, Female!Reader, no pairings, but Rarold is pathetic in this if you like your men like a wet cat.

🌽🌽🌽🌽🌽🌽🌽

The sun is barely peaking over the horizon as you increase the speed of your pedaling. You didn't mean to stay out so late biking the trails and honestly you were a bit lost. You know with the rumors swirling about a serial killer in Baths that you shouldn't stay out after dark, especially out in the woods. Suddenly your world spins as you feel yourself flying off your bike, crashing into the dirt and gravel. You look over to see your bike, it's front tire twisted, a large stick between the spokes. You start to pick yourself up, wondering how you even managed to do that when you feel a force push you back down. You feel a hand grab your arm and begin to drag you across the path. You stumble trying to pull away and get your feet under you when you finally take in who it was.

"Rarold?!"

Of course it had to be Rarold. The two of you were not on good terms since the time he over heard you make a comment in the diner soon after his wife went missing. Something about making yourself disappear too if you had to be married to him...

"Fucking bitch..." Rarold says. You recall him saying something similar to your remark that night in the diner. He continues to pull you along, muttering. You catch "barn" and "Kevin" before deciding you were done with whatever the hell this was. You dig your heals into the ground in an attempt to throw him off balance. Unfortunately he counters you, whipping his arm forward and sending you flying. You land face first next to him as he stands there, looking down at you and snickering.

"FUCK OFF RAROLD," you screech. Its now or never, in one swift motion you pull the pocket knife from your back pocket and slam it into Rarold's boot. He screams and you pray he ends up a few toes shorter after this experience. You feel dirt hit your face as he begins to run. You're fairly surprised at how quickly he can still haul ass with a limp.

You pick yourself up off the ground, now covered in dirt as a sense of rage washes over you. You weren't just going to let this asshole go, you begin to head in the direction you last saw him. You find yourself soon coming upon a clearing. An old abandoned barn.

As you walk along the back wall of the barn you see the silhouette of a figure and realize you caught up to Rarold. You notice the empty oil drums next to you and decide to pull a little trick you learned working at the local haunted house, scaring teens. A loud bang lets out as your fist connects with the side of the drum. You see the figure nearly jump out of its skin and scurry around the corner. You roll your eyes and mutter in disgust, "Rarold you little bitch."

You're surprised to hear a car door slam and the sound of the engine start up. You run around the corner to see that Rarold had hopped into his truck, the sounds of screeching as he quickly pulls away. You watch as the headlights disappear up the winding road, he's gone now. You accept that you're stuck hitchhiking back to town and you begin to walk along the side of the road.

[unreal-unearthing]

My parents used to complain all the time about their cat (to be clear, they LOVE this cat, this was just one thing she does that annoys them to no end) jumping on the island counter. She only did it when they did were in the kitchen, and for ages they were convinced she was being an asshole, flagrantly disobeying their rule about counters.

And then one day I pointed out to them that the first thing my parents do when they get home is sit across from each other at this kitchen island and talk. My dad sits on one of the stools and my mom stands on the opposite side, leaning over so their faces are about level while they chat. And the cat, I pointed out, was trying to sit in such a way, on the counter, that she was about level with their faces. She was just trying to be a part of their conversation, of their little ritual across the counter. It still pisses my dad off but now my mom finds it kinda endearing.

Anyway I love cats.

Trying

[wolfprincesszola]

Echoes of 50 Chapter 1

As always, check the TWs and CWs in the masterlist. This is probably one of my favorite chapters though and along with it, one of my favorite songs by Gracie Abrams. I hope you enjoy <3. ——————– Now Playing: Close to You by Gracie Abrams

<Masterlist>

<Previous Chapter> <Next Chapter> ——————–

Logan had a schedule he stuck to. He liked being punctual. He liked planning everything down to the T. He liked living in the most optimal way.

6:30 AM. Wake up and get ready for work. 7:30 AM. Head out of the apartment and walk to the nearby coffee shop. 7:45 AM. Order his regular: a caffè mocha. 7:50 AM. Get his order and walk the rest of the way to his work. 8:00 AM. Arrive at work on the dot. 12:00 PM. Take a lunch break. 12:30 PM. Go back to work. 4:30 PM. Walk home. 5:00 PM. Arrive at home and prepare dinner. 5:30 PM. Eat dinner and research. 9:30 PM. Get ready for bed. 10:00 PM. Mandatory cuddles with his cat Luna with no blue light. 10:30 PM. Sleep.

Repeat. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

He liked the consistency. What that meant was that Logan had almost never missed a day of work in his life besides the day he had seen the orange-suited man and that Logan had never been late to work. That was his life.

Work. Research. Sleep. Work. Research. Sleep. Work. Research. Sleep. Work. Research. Sleep.

Logan didn’t mind it. He enjoyed the schedule.

What he did mind was his schedule being interrupted on a sunny Thursday morning by the most gorgeous man he had ever laid his eyes upon.

To think it all started with an order of a simple caffè mocha. Logan had arrived into the coffee shop to be greeted with the barista he saw everyday. Roman Prince.

Around this time every day, there was always no one around. Too early for anyone to be getting coffee in a local small business without a drive-through.

“Logan. As on time as ever.”

“Ah, Microsoft Nerd! As on time as ever. Caffè mocha, is it?” Roman grinned at the man, “I’ll have it prepared in just one moment.”

Logan rolled his eyes at the man dashing around–more dramatically than need be–to prepare a simple order.

“You would think that after three years of me coming here every day at the exact same time that you’d have my order before I even got here, Roman.”

“Ah, then how would I be able to converse with you, Calculator Watch?” Roman chuckled mischievously, “You know how much I love to talk to people.”

“Then you must know how much I abhor socialization.” Logan huffed, placing the correct amount for the coffee on the counter. $5.24 exactly.

“I never got why that is.” Roman shrugged before capping Logan’s coffee. “You must absolutely have a miserable life.”

“I’m sure whatever you categorize as a ‘miserable’ life would be absolute blissful for me. I’ll be off, Roman. I urge you to have my order ready before I come, seeing as you usually are not doing anything when I arrive.”

“You know I won’t do that.” Roman kept a smile on his face as he handed the coffee cup to Logan. Logan lifted his coffee cup in thanks as he turned on his heel and began to walk away. Roman didn’t deserve a retort back for that.

“Asshole. Won’t even give the greatest Prince in all the lands a proper farewell.”

“I heard that!” Logan remarked. He didn’t miss Roman’s playful laugh.

Logan’s walk towards the front door was interrupted by someone slamming into him and hot liquid splashing on his chest. “Hey Ro. I didn’t see the people who wanted me to deliver these and it’s cold outside-”

Logan yelped, jumping back as he felt the hot coffee soaking into the newly-pressed collared shirt he was wearing. He couldn’t help the involuntary “fuck” that escaped his mouth.

“Oh no…Logan, don’t be upset at Pat. Don’t be upset. Don’t be upset. Don’t be upset.” Roman’s thoughts rang in Logan’s mind.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Let me get you a napkin.” A man’s voice spoke up with panicked kindness as he rushed to grab something for Logan. Logan blinked once before staring at the man who had bumped into him. His heart skipped a beat.

The man was, to say the least, unique. His glasses matched Logan’s frames. A light gray cardigan hung on his shoulders as he wore a light blue polo shirt. Besides that, he had the most mesmerizing eyes Logan had ever seen. If Logan wasn’t careful, he could drown in their bewitchment. Logan had always detested the color brown, but somehow, it didn’t matter that the man’s eyes were brown because they were brown like the espresso grounds and dark chocolate Roman used to make Logan’s coffee. They were the brown that Logan found beauty in. Freckles adorned the man’s face, scattered around as if an artist had splattered paint onto his face. The arbitrary placement of his freckles on his face made no sense to Logan and yet he found himself entranced, wanting to count every freckle that adorned this man’s face.

“Yikes. That’s an angry face if I’ve ever seen one.”

Roman’s thoughts pulled Logan back into reality where he saw the man trying to carefully pat Logan’s stained shirt with napkins. The man’s glabella scrunched up with a fear that Logan would snap at him. So Logan didn’t. Even if he was upset over his shirt. Even if he knew he was now going to be late for work. Even if he was slightly annoyed. Logan would not get angry. And he didn’t.

Instead, Logan took a deep breath and looked at the man sincerely. “Are you alright?”

The man blinked in surprise, his glabella and his shoulders relaxing. “Uh, yeah. Are you?”

“I’ll be fine. What’s your name?” Logan asked as he pulled the man up to stop trying to wipe the coffee stains away. It would just have to be dry cleaned.

“He’s not mad?”

“You’re not mad?” The man looked up at Logan warily.

“I’m not. Really.” Logan looked to see what had been knocked over. A tray was strewn on the floor with two cups of spilled coffee. He leaned down to grab the tray and handed it to the man, “My name is Logan Sanders. You are?” “Patton Morris.”

Patton. Logan etched it into his brain, letting it spread across it like a primary-school rumor on the playground. He allowed the name to take over his entire thoughts and kept it hidden for safety in the back of his mind, forever knowing he’d be able to access it anytime he saw Patton.

“These orders must not be too important, Roman, if you are sitting around watching us instead of remaking them.” Logan called out to the barista. That seemed to make Roman jump as he began to remake the two drinks, no longer watching the interaction with burning curiosity.

“I’m so sorry.” Patton exhaled, “It’s my first day and it’s bean one of those days-”

“It’s alright, Patton. Mistakes happen…” Logan trailed off before processing what Patton had said, “Did you just make a coffee pun?”

“Oh, no. Pat, don’t make another pun. He hates those.”

“I make puns when I’m nervous.” Patton squeaked.

“Alright then.” Logan blinked as he grabbed the two empty cups on the ground, “Why don’t you go ahead and grab the mop to clean this up? I’ll help you.”

“There’s absolutely no way he just brushed it off. Logan, you hate it when I make jokes! What is this treatment?”

Logan ignored Roman’s complaints.

“Don’t you have work, Egghead?” Roman chirped up as he finished brewing both cups needed.

“That can wait.” Logan cleared his throat as he looked to see that his coffee had also fallen in the process of being knocked over by Patton. He did not want to admit the main reason he was doing all this was because of Patton.

“I java mop now!” Patton chirped up as he walked in with a mop, getting ready to mop the ground.

“Another pun.” Logan stared at Patton before allowing him to mop the floor. Once it was cleaned, Logan turned to Roman to ask for another cup of caffè mocha.

“Now what is going on with you now, Logan?”

Logan really wanted Roman’s thoughts to shut up.

“Coming right up, Specs.” Roman winked at the man before turning away. Logan turned to Patton.

“I feel awful for spilling this on you. Surely I can do something for you. I'll do whatever beans necessary to fix your shirt.”

Logan ignored the pun. “There’s no need, Patton. I will just be on my way home after this to change my shirt before heading off to work.”

“Ah yes, the slave of capitalism.” Patton remarked, “The damn government back at it again, amirite?”

Well, fuck. Prettiest man Logan had ever laid eyes on, and hated the government just like him? Logan was screwed to say the least.

“Yes, you are correct in that aspect, but I must urge that there is no need to pay me back.”

“Let me at least pay for your dry-cleaning then.” Patton seemed uneasy to see Logan let the incident go, so Logan gave in and sighed.

“Alright, fine. Usually, my dry-cleaning bill is $5 per dress shirt. You can pay me by tipping your employer, Roman, that amount.”

Roman gave an indignant noise, but a look from Logan shut him up before he could protest.

“I’m not going to make my friend tip me, you ass.”

“Here’s your coffee, Book Germ.” Roman scoffed as he gave the new cup to Logan. Logan sipped it and nodded towards the two of them.

“Have a brew-tiful day, Logan!”

“See you tomorrow, same time.” Roman called out.

Before Logan left the building though, he caught Roman’s last few thoughts.

“I wonder if Logan felt pity because he could hear what Patton was thinking.”

Now that Logan had thought about it, he hadn’t heard Patton’s thoughts once throughout the entire process. He had no idea what Patton was thinking through the entirety of their interaction.

Maybe Patton was the start to the answers Logan was looking for.

Logan would have to come to the coffee shop more often, if that was the case. To assess Patton’s importance to Logan’s research.

…and maybe also to see him more in general.

[briamichellewrites]

45

Bria was home after four months on the road. Despite playing for thousands of people and meeting her fans, she was still lonely at the end of the day. She used alcohol to help her get through everything, though she hid it from everyone. On top of meeting her fans, she also had photo shoots and interviews. She missed her cats the most. Mike was also on tour with the band. He wondered how she was doing by herself, especially since she was nervous before leaving.

Her tour received positive reviews from critics. She interacted with her audience and had nonstop energy, which she and her fans threw back and forth with each other. It was as if she was born to perform. Her album was getting hype and people wanted it to be nominated for a Grammy. Neither Mike nor Brad knew about her drinking and she wanted to keep it that way.

When she returned home, the house was empty. Save for her cats who welcomed her home. Meow. You’re home! We missed you, human! She missed them, too. It was good to be home! She picked Cream up. Cookies and Bon Jovi followed her to her room with her stuff. After putting Cream on the floor, they watched her put her stuff away. The cats got up on the bed and looked inside her suitcase. There was a lot of human stuff in there.

She had her dirty clothes washed before they were packed. All she had to do was put them away. Cream accidentally got tangled up in her underwear. Meow. Human, help! She went over and untangled her. Thank you! She jumped when she heard a funny sound. What was that? Bria found her phone and looked at the text message that was sent to her.

Yes, I’m home. I was going to start making dinner if you wanted to come over. I won’t charge you haha. – Bria

Bradley replied he was on his way after getting the address. She texted BP to let him know. He joked about her stealing his friend. She replied jokingly calling him an asshole before putting her phone down. They didn’t have much food in the refrigerator since they needed to go grocery shopping. She would do that the next day. Since she was in the kitchen, the cats demanded food.

While she was gone, they had a neighbor come in twice a day and feed them. She offered a lot of money, but the neighbor declined. Instead, she just asked her to bring something back for her. She loved cats but never had any of her own, so she was more than happy to help out. After dispersing the food, she heard the doorbell ringing. That was probably Bradley. She got up and went to the front door. Yes, it was. They greeted each other while she let him in.

“I hope you like cats.”

“How many do you have?”

“Three.”

She pointed them out. They were all different breeds. Bon Jovi, Cookies and Cream. They all looked up at the stranger. What was she making? She was trying to figure that out. Was he a vegan or vegetarian? No, he was not. That made things a lot easier! He laughed. She decided to just make a soup with leftover vegetables and chicken stock. He questioned if she liked to cook.

She loved cooking, especially for other people! Her favorite thing to eat was salmon, though she was having trouble finding it at the store. Were her friends vegetarian or vegan? Two of them were. She had to be creative with what she could make. He watched her cook, as the cats roamed in and out. Something smelled good, but they couldn’t see what it was. It was probably human food they couldn’t eat. Cream meowed because she wanted to see what she was making.

She was too small to jump up on the counter. Her claws caught ahold of her pants and she climbed up. She was about to take one of the cut-up vegetables, but she was caught and put back on the floor. They didn’t want cat hair in their food. She grumbled before going out to the living room. Bradley laughed at her. Did they have separate personalities? Yes.

“Bon Jovi and Cookies are the ones who will demand attention. We lived with my friend, Mike for a while. They would go in and bug him until he acknowledged their presence. Bon Jovi is the most vocal. She has tantrums when she doesn’t get her way.”

“What does she do? Just lie on the floor and meow?”

“Pretty much. It’s mostly over food but it’s also because we’re not worshipping the ground she walks on twenty-four-seven”, she joked.

Meow! That’s not true, human! Bon Jovi had to proclaim her innocence. Her human was disparaging her good name by spreading lies and misinformation. She had a reputation to uphold and defend. After cutting up the vegetables and adding in lettuce, she put her salad on the counter. She then found leftover salmon hidden in the freezer.

She put it on the stove to heat up wrapped in aluminum foil, before setting the timer for eight minutes. Every so often, she flipped them over to evenly distribute the heat. The cats had gone back to playing in the living room. Cream was playing with Bon Jovi’s tail. She pretended it was a snake slithering around. I got you! She pounced on it and grabbed it with her paws. It slipped out, so she pounced again. Bon Jovi didn’t mind because she was just playing around, as kittens were known to do.

Haha, you two have fun. I love you. - BP

Bradley was enjoying the spontaneous date. He felt he was getting to know her better and seeing who she was. She is the most incredible woman you will ever meet. He remembered Brad saying that about her. Why was she selling herself on dates? Who decided that? Her manager did. She just agreed to do it. Her manager was selling her? Yeah.

“You need to be represented by a new manager. They shouldn’t be doing that. Do you want to do it?”

“Yeah, it’s a good way to meet people. It’s not about the money.”

“Oh, yeah. I never thought that. You can do a lot better than selling yourself.”

She would talk to Brad about it when he got home. The meal was delicious! Brad was a very lucky guy! After putting their dishes away and cleaning up, they went to the living room. Even though she was the girlfriend of a close friend, he wanted to kiss her. When he did, he felt her lips on his. What were the rules between her and Brad? While he was gone, she was allowed to be with whoever she wanted.

That included hookups. She just had to be honest with him. So, he wouldn’t mind if they went upstairs? No, he wouldn’t. They got up and he followed her up to the bedroom. He closed the door behind them. After going to the bed, he kissed her and pulled her in closer. He took off his shirt before laying her down on the bed and getting on top. She wasn’t a virgin because he could tell she knew what to expect. They slowly removed their clothes and tossed them on the floor.

He was just going to be a hookup. At the moment, she was not thinking about that. Being with him would not cure her loneliness. Neither would the men who paid her money to take her out on dates. They would eventually leave her to go home to their wives or girlfriends. The only person she would ever have was herself.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

[homelander-rp-blog]

She's taller than him when she's perched up on the counter, John's eyes unintentionally is drawn to her long, beautiful legs before she makes a grasp at his jaw, tilting his head up, his adam apple bobbing when he swallows, doesn't move a muscle, her touch sends a shiver down his spine, making him arch his back subtly Jesus just don't hump her now! and that's when he notices he's hard as a nail in his pants, awkwardly moves his legs to cover it. "well.. my daddy didn't raise a rude maniac.. he did raise a maniac but with manners" flashes a fond smile "if ain't a woman then what are you, kitten? Satan's spawn?" and throwing random sarcasms is what he's excellent at whenever he feels nervous or in danger, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, try not to play it as a salacious act "I'm afraid there's not a story in there, sweetheart. just me being an idiot for my entire life.. but girls like a marred man, no?" shit, he isn't sure if he's flirting right now or just babbling, it's been ages and he feels he's getting dry down there-

Finally, she lets go of him to eat, thank God, John tries to reel his thought to somewhere which doesn't involve her but can't help it, idly thinking if she was wearing a mini skirt, from his place he could take a peak- bites his tongue not to blurt a 'bet you got other interesting things under the belt, too' but stops himself a moment before ruining this peace "ah, such a pity.. wish I could give you my enemy's soul instead but guess I'm the first idiot handing over his own soul to you, eh?" he's only joking, no one likes to live in this world for so long "it does.. I just gonna hope mine won't be thrown to the deep level of hell, but, if hell is full of hot chicks, I wouldn't mind being thrown around" he gives a meaningful wink, raises his beer bottle for her "to my lil' demon's health then!" and goes up only to choke on the drink, coughs it out with a breathless laugh "who?! you?! you wanna.." placing the glass back on the counter, he pushes his empty plate away to prop up his foot on the counter, chair tilting back so he can look right at her face when they talk "you wanna run a ranch? didn't know it was between the options too. didn't peg you as a country girl" but then John notices the obvious change in her feature, how she talks about her family and gripping the counter too hard that her knuckles turn white, the blonde man is quick to shoot out of his chair, both hands wrapping gently around Eris' bony wrists "hey now.. hey" and tries to make her focus on him instead, a cloud of darkness covering over her always so bright eyes, John cups the side of her face, an act of instinct "yeah.. family can be bad sometimes.. God knows my own daddy used to beat me, and I wished for his death sometimes.." he grimaces, blue eyes looking sad "but not all of them are.. I uh.. my mom, she's a lovely woman. I think she'll like you if you two meet." chewing inside his cheek, his mind jumps to different branches to change the mood "look, we ever make it out alive, I'm gonna take you to my family's ranch, good? we got all types of animals in there.. uh.. goats, sheep! I'll even get you a cat, an orange one"

Their peaceful moment won't take long when a knock at the door interrupts them, John frown at the closed door "I don't expect anyone at this hour.." sure, Kevin is gonna visit him today but it's not the time "I swear if it's that kid from the upper floor.." looking around, he picks one of kitchen's knives and cautiously approaches the main entrance, his heart beating so loud in his ears "who's this?"

But no answer.

John opens the door, only a small gap to take a look at the visitor and gets hit in the face when whoever was behind, kicks it down. "it's from the Don, asshole!" two buff man rushing inside, and the first one kicks him right in his face, sending the knife in his hand flying across the floor "my fucking nose!" and there are blood everywhere. John tries to shield his head when they beat him. I should have known it, that pig sent his men for me! which will end up with him in the hospital, bad ending. John just hopes Eris gets her soul at the end, he wasn't someone to make a promise and break it.

"maybe the cat would like me for that very reason. A ginger one would be cute, or even a black cat, spook all the kids in the area." she smirked in amusement over the idea. "virgin demon, you're so funny." but she did laugh, that was a small achievement, she could probably have got him a gold medal for that one. either way those little berries popped into her mouth so easily, she loved the crunch of them fresh from the fridge. grapes were something she'd once dreamed of tasting. "when i say last time i was around it just means that it's been some time... but time works differently down there."

There was a pause, a way that she stared at him, her head slowly tilting, like she was learning every small fact in what he said, judging his soul and not his being but that wicked little smirk was everything and more. that smirk was what some people would sin for, even the holiest of men. "i think you'd look fantastic strapped to a chair, John." she remarked firstly with all the amusement trapped in the curl of her lips. "Oh, so you find me gorgeous?" Eris quipped onto that quickly. "Also, what's to say that I don't enjoy old you? I like the way you... view things, and I like the way you cook." with another swift motion she'd put another grape to her lips and crunched into it's skin, a soft hum of appreciation. "Meow." she played into the joke, but she was the luckiest black cat you could wish for.

"I've seen them, I like them.." she spoke a little softer, and without warning reached across, some of that smoke she moved in followed her and the surprisingly gentle way she reached her hand to run across the skin of his arm but it was her eyes that traced where she knew his scars to be. "They remind me of my own." she admitted. Glamour was a fantastic thing, it meant she could appear however she liked and most demons picked to look like someone they'd known or idolized in their life, Eris chose to be exactly as she was. Exactly as she'd been as a human, but her scars.... they reminded her so brutally of her death. "No need to apologies, I'm not much of a lady." Oh but she was, better than most. She flitted again, that is what she called the motion where she'd disperse, flitting. This time she was perched before him on the counter surface, one leg crossed over the other and bobbing up and down. Eris reached to take his chin, like he'd made him look at her days prior, she did the same to him. "I do like your scars John, they give you character, they tell me stories and I like the stories." Perhaps that was the nicest extension of humanity she could offer him on that.

"Bon patie!" she copied, this humming delight took her, it was the most content the demon looked when she was eating. " I've got a lot of souls under my belt..." she was truthful with that, but her eyes glued to him, trying to decipher his reaction and sometimes it was like Eris was studying his soul for response. "Souls give me power... that is how we rise up. I think humans believe we eat souls? That isn't it, it's sort of like... the more that belong to us, the more power we're granted, that type of thing. Some demons the lower level kind, they don't have the resolve to do what is required. Let's say you're summoned and someone wishes someone dead, you can take their soul in exchange for the chore you'd do for them, that's how it starts on the low levels and some can't do it. They are the weak, incapable. They are the ones I'd send to the pits, the hot coals, does that make... some sort of sense?"

She seemed happy in those moments but she had appreciation for food, especially when he'd cooked and it was still hot. "Why don't I run the ranch? I like animals, more than people. People are.." she pulled a face but it didn't last long before her eyes filled with utter darkness. If it was John's turn to study her, he'd find bitterness and hatred, a lack of mercy to their existence. "If my line continued I wish them plague and hunger, I would beg my highest for their damnation and revel in the glory of watching it. and I, do not beg for anything." there was no pause, no hesitation. She didn't know that she was digging her fingernails so firmly into the way that it was chipping beneath her grip, the tips of her fingers turning white from the pressure. "I hope they live in fear of my name."