#running just makes me angrier because it fucking. blows

[queenqunari]

Has anyone figured out what to do with the undying rage that lives just beneath the surface? Like the fury that you constantly need to be pushing down because you know unleashing it onto others is cruel? But if you never let it out the build up causes you to explode on some unsuspecting bystander?

[holylulusworld]

A different kind of Valentine

Summary: Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

Pairing: former!(any male character) x fem!Reader, Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, mentions/implied cheating, making out with a stranger, language, drinking, tipsy reader, a little fluff

Promises shouldn’t be broken.

Promises are meant to be kept. Right?

Love should be strong and unbreakable. If you swear to someone that you love and adore them, you cannot take it back so easily.

How could your fiancé take the words he whispered lovingly not months ago back?

“I can’t do this anymore,” he replied coolly when you asked why his suitcases were standing in the hallways. You believed he must go on yet another business trip.

That he wants to leave you never crossed your mind.

How foolish of you to believe that he wants to stay and keep his promises.

Shell-shocked you watched him grab your hand to slide his grandmother’s ring off of your finger.

You couldn’t think, speak, or even whimper. All you saw was the man you loved turn his back on you.

He stuffed the ring into his pocket, murmuring someone else’s name under his breath. You knew the name. Once in a while, he mentioned his assistant.

Of course, he had to turn your breakup into a cliché. He had to bang his secretary and leave you for a younger model.

If not for the tears running down your face, and the heaviness in your heart, you’d laugh at the fucked-up situation. It felt like you ended up in a bad rom-com slash comedy movie. The only difference was people weren’t laughing at the bad joke your life turned into.

“You can’t be serious,” oh, you finally found your voice. “Why are you doing this? Did you get bored? Is it the wedding? We could’ve talked things out.”

“That’s not it.” He grunted in your direction.

“Is she prettier? Better in bed,” you got angrier and louder. “Does she like it up her ass? Is it that?” You threw the next best things at him, making a scene. “What is it? Huh? Is her cunt squeezing your tighter?”

“You’re just not it!” He bit back and threw his hands up in surrender. “Can you not do this right now? How about you don’t throw a tantrum? People break up all the time!”

“Five years and that’s all I get?” You yelled. “I deserve better than a lame excuse! I want to know what happened to us!”

“I love her because I don’t love you anymore!” He yelled back, making you flinch at his outburst. “It’s not only that the sex is better. She’s all I ever wanted in a woman. You got too comfortable and want to cuddle on the sofa instead of going out and blowing me off behind a bar.”

“What?” You huffed. “I was the one trying to drag you off the couch! You only ever went out with your buddies.” He ignored your tears, and that your voice cracked. “I guess this never mattered. You had to fulfill the cliché. So, go ahead. We will see if she can make you happy.”

You stormed toward the door, blindly grabbing your keys and phone. It was impossible to stand there, staring at the gifts you placed on the coffee table in the living room.

“If you are still here when I come back, I’ll stab you right in the face,” you looked over your shoulder at the man who used to be your moon and stars. “If you touch my shit, you are a dead man. I will find you and your whore and turn you into dog food.”

“Another one,” you slammed the glass down onto the bar counter. “Make it a double.” You placed fifty bucks onto the empty glass. “No, give me the bottle. I think I’ll drink it at home.”

“We don’t sell the bottle for you to take it home,” the bartender gruffly replied.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You glared at the burly guy. “I can drink the whole bottle at the bar, but I can’t pay for it and take it home?” Quirking a brow, you look at the man.

“House rules.”

“Fuck this,” you grabbed the fifty bucks and stuffed the money into your bra. “I’ll get more at the next liquor store. Fuck you, and all of you.”

“All of us?” The bartender asked with amusement.

Storming out of the bar you huffed again. “Fuck Valentine’s Day.” You muttered and walked away, almost running a guy over.

You glared at him and bared your teeth.

“Assholes with a ding-dong between their legs. You are all the same. Useless and worthless…”

“Hey, watch your step, doll,” the guy snickered when you threw your clutch at him. “Ouch, what do you think you are doing?” The man caught your clutch just in time.

“Fuck you too!” You poked two fingers into his chest. “You are no better than the bartender and my lovely fiancé. All of you are useless and have a limp dick. No man is worth my time.”

You snatched the clutch out of the man’s hands. “Language, lady,” he said, his voice now dangerously low. “If you don’t watch your tongue, someone might teach you some manners.”

“Oh, and you are that kind of man,” you slapped him across the face with your clutch. “Who do you think you are?” Usually, you wouldn’t attack a stranger in the dead of the night, but you were a little tipsy, and still mad because of the events of the day. “Threatening a woman.”

“Sweet cheeks,” he said while rubbing his face. It was still red from the slap, and he considered his next step. “I wouldn’t dare to raise my hand against you.” The man stepped closer to grab your clutch. “I said—” He grabbed you by your throat and slammed you against the wall, “I’ll teach you a lesson.”

“I’ll scream,” you began to race. Maybe you messed with the wrong guy. “Get off me.”

“Yeah, you will scream,” he smirked darkly and leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I’ll make you scream my name, doll. So, what will it be? Do you want me to make you scream, or do you want me to make you whimper my name?”

“That’s not a choice!” You complained. “I have had enough of selfish men believing they can toy with me and my heart. I’ll cut yours out if you dare to touch me.”

“A cocky one,” he dropped his hand from your throat and pressed his hand against the wall, right next to your head. “Tell me, doll. Who hurt such a sweet girl?” He looked you up and down, hungrily roaming your body with his eyes.

“He—” You looked away and blinked a few times. “You’re not my therapist, and I’m not your problem.”

“You made it my problem when you attacked me because a douchebag hurt you. So, again. Who hurt you, doll?”

God, he smelled so good, and his lips tenderly pressed against your earlobe. You didn’t know what got into you, but you grasped for the stranger, taking him by supposed when you pressed your lips to his.

His hands grabbed your face, gently cradling it while he allowed you to dominate the kiss. “Doll,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re a little drunk, huh?”

“Make me forget about him,” you pleaded and fisted his jacket. “Here and now. Come on. Don’t be all talk.”

“I’d love to make you scream my name.” He pecked your lips twice. “I love me a crazy girl hitting me at first sight but, I won’t take advantage of you. You’re hurt, drunk, and a little lost. Let me take you home.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you gasped and stepped back. “I just kissed a stranger and asked him to fuck me. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, doll,” his features softened. “It’s alright. I’m a nice guy.” He smirked and laughed as you stepped back again. “My name is Bucky, okay. I’ll take you home if you want me to. Or I could call a cab for you.”

“Y/N,” you murmured your name, embarrassed about your actions. “Sorry. I didn’t want to attack you…or kiss you…or ask you to fuck me.”

“Y/N,” Bucky hummed. “A very nice name.” He said. “For an even nicer woman.” Holding out his hand Bucky waited for you to take it. “I won’t bite, promised.”

“Maybe I like it when you bite me,” you challenged him.

“Let’s stick to getting the alcohol out of your system,” Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you didn’t take his hand. “Doll, you shouldn’t stay here. We started on the wrong foot, but I’m not a bad guy.”

“What the shit!” You exclaimed loudly while you looked around your apartment. “That bastard had the guts to unpack the gifts I got him before leaving our home to bang that bitch.”

“Hmm…that him?” Bucky lifted one of your picture frames. “He looks like a douchebag. I was right.”

“Why did you come with me again?” You glanced over your shoulder at the stranger in your home. “I’m good. Really.”

“I won’t leave a pretty dame in need alone on Valentine’s Day,” Bucky said. “Not after that man left you for some other woman.”

“I’m fine,” you lied. “Just…mad.” You shrugged. “I had the whole day planned; you know. Dinner at our favorite restaurant, the perfect gift, and naughty underwear to…” You shook your head.

“His loss,” Bucky shrugged while looking at one of the gift bags on the table. “It should’ve been him making big plans for Valentine’s Day. If you love your lady, you spoil her.”

“He found someone prettier and sexier,” you sniffled. “He told me so. The man I loved fell in love with his secretary because he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Again, his loss,” he stepped closer to look inside the gift bag, taking the lingerie out. “Red lace, huh?”

“He liked red…” You snatched the underwear out of Bucky’s hands. “I wanted to turn him on. It’s been a while since he was interested in doing more than sleep in our bedroom.”

“I’d say white suits you more,” Bucky threw the lingerie over his shoulder. “How about you change into your favorite outfit, and I invite you for dinner. No strings attached, doll.”

“You want to take me out?” You questioned.

“Please let me take you out,” he stepped closer to grab your hand. “You deserve to spend this day with someone who cares.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Yet,” he said. “Let me get to know you, please.”

You nodded and agreed to go out for dinner with Bucky. It was a risk, but one you were willing to take.

Valentine reloaded

Tags in reblog.

[chrissv4mp]

AND TELL ME WE WEREN'T JUST FRIENDS

THIS DOESN'T MAKE MUCH SENSE...

"Friends." — "Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear."

The cool air of night felt burning on your skin, the anger you held spilling over the brim. You couldn't believe you were having this conversation with Billie right now. You swear you saw things clearly. You know you read the signs correctly.

"Friends, that's all we are, Y/N." She breathes, never even sparing you a glance as she shifts her weight onto one foot and then the other. She couldn't bear looking at you, "Jus' wanted to clarify since—"

"Since it got a little too far and you said you loved me?" You scoff, squeezing your hands into fists and then releasing them. Every word that came out of her mouth since you got outside made you even angrier, "Yeah, okay, whatever you say."

Billie parts her lips to speak, but all that comes out is a small squeak of sadness or maybe anger? You couldn't even pinpoint it anymore. You didn't even know her. She felt like a completely different person. Like a stranger.

You barely knew the person you stood just a few feet away from. And, sure, you should've known when this whole "friends with benefits" situation began, but it just hit you hard each time she reminded you of it.

She's reminded you of your boundaries countless times before. Neither of you knew why you lashed out this time. Maybe you did. Maybe you were just tired. You were tired of not being able to kiss her publicly. You were tired of only being able to hold her hand behind closed doors. You were so fucking tired of not being able to call her yours.

"Stop—Fuck—Just stop, Y/N." She groans, inhaling sharply as she runs a hand through her hair. It was just as stressful for her as it was for you, but you didn't know that. You didn't know a lot of things about her.

Her eyes meet yours for a split second, but she just can't do it. She can't look at you and speak because if she does, she knows she'll spill her true feelings. And she can't do that. She can't. She can't. She can't.

"Stop what? You're acting like I'm crazy, Billie!" You all but yell, eyes wild and hair blowing in your face from the windy night. It feels like a scene from a movie. You wished it was because there would've been a happy ending.

"Because you are!" She yells, her eyes snapping to yours quicker than you can even process. You let out a short breath as she speaks, tears brimming in her eyes, "You are fucking insane thinking, for even a second, that I ever had actual interest in you!"

Push her away.

Push her so fucking far away she won't ever come back.

"God, you're crazy, Y/N!" She scoffs, a fake smile on her face as she tilts her head, "Haven't you seen the signs?" But the signs weren't of hatred. They were signs of actual love. She was contradicting herself just to push you away.

She had to push you away. She wasn't good for you. Her reputation was too much. She didn't want to hurt you. You'd leave her in the end, anyway. It was better she hurt you than millions of people on the internet. Right?

"Friends." She states, her voice shaky despite her efforts to stay strong, "Is that clear?" Her eyes move away from you again, and your heart breaks just that little bit more.

Tears streak down your cheeks as you sniffle. You just wanted the floor to open and swallow you whole. Embarrassment, sadness, anger—God—Every emotion ran through you. What were you supposed to say?

"Crystal clear." You utter, voice small and weak. Your knees felt like they would give out any second now, the ache in your chest hurting more than it should've.

It felt like the entire world was watching the situation unfold, but in reality, it was only Billie. But what was the difference, really? She was your entire world. She was. Was.

@mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @br4ttyeilish @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @hrtsdollie

[ssinnerplazahotel]

WC:2k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, yandere elvis, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Note/: this is part two of a five part series and was intended for black readers but written with no physical descriptions——all reader’s welcomed

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“That’s strike three. I’m getting too good at bending my own rules.” You got deja vu as you shut the door. The room was the same, the walls had collected more dust and the shelf in the corner had finally collapsed, but it was the same.

“BB said you w-were in Missouri.”

“I don't know why he said that.”

“I-I have y-your, uhm…” He retrieved the compact, fumbling around for it in his pocket before holding it out to you. “Y-Your little mirror.”

“Oh, I forgot all about it.” You’d thought about it every day, wondering if he’d been keeping up with it or if he’d lost it somewhere along the way.

“I’m sure he told you, b-but, I-I’m getting sent away soon.”

“Germany, right?” You tried on an optimistic tone. “You’re gonna love it.”

“You been?”

“It’s beautiful this time of year, the snow and everything…” You turned to hoist the window open, hoping to let some air into the room. You could hear the commotion in the street when you finally got it up. Elvis stepped back into the corner, hiding in the darkest shadows of the room to avoid being spotted.

“What were you doing in Germany?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Cigarette?”

“No, thanks.”

“Do you want a drink?”

“No.”

“Muscle relaxer? They work like a charm.”

“Do I seem tense?”

“Of course not, bunny.” You stepped in front of him and put your hands on his shoulders.

He put his arms around your waist and you relaxed into the casual embrace. “How have things been with Ron? I stopped calling when BB told me he was giving you a hard time~”

“Let’s not talk about Ron, right now, okay?”

“Where did you go after I left you in Ohio?”

“I got a ride.”

“From who?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I can’t ever picture you doing anything. When you disappear it’s like you stop existing.”

“Elvis,” You chuckled.

“If I don’t come here and talk to BB I feel like you aren’t real.”

“Why do you need to know that I’m real?”

“Because I…I-I love you too.”

Your stomach dropped. You had hoped he’d avoid the topic or wait for you to bring it up—which you had no intention of doing.

“E-Elvis…” You cleared your throat. “I play a lot of games, and I know we have a pretty good one going but…I-I don’t think it’s a good idea to get too attached to me.”

His eyes hardened and he looked like a different person. This person took a long time to respond and you began to miss the gentle eyes he had before. “You think this is a game?”

“It’s fun, right?”

“Telling me you love me was a game?”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, bun~”

“Cool it with the stupid nicknames, alright, it’s fucking~”

“Shh~”

“No, I’m not gonna be quiet~”

“Elvis.” You let him push you away, watching him pace a few steps.

He faced you and the shadows made him look angrier than he really was. “Why’d you even show up here?”

“BB called me.”

“And said what?”

“He said that you were here blowing up his spot and he wanted me to talk to you so he could stop boarding up his windows every night.”

“He never said anything to me about that.”

“Because he cares about you.”

“If he cared about me he would’ve told me that I was just one of your tricks.”

“You’re not.”

“What makes me different? You were gonna kiss up to me all night then go home and crawl in bed with Ron, right? Just like every other sucker you run into.”

“Don’t pretend to have a clue about anything I do.”

“I have no clue, no one in the world has a clue. BB’s your goddamn cousin and he doesn’t even know where you grew up.”

“He tells people that because we’re close. Like play cousins.”

“You aren’t close to anyone except Ron~”

“I’m sorry I made you upset, Elvis, that’s not what I want. Alright?” You weren’t sure how to salvage the night, but you had made a promise to BB so you tried. “Baby, I want to make you happy before you leave. Don’t you want that?”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t stop you when you took his face in your hands.

“Don’t you want to feel good?”

“Stop playing the game.” His voice was a whisper.

“I’ll do whatever you want. I’m here for you, bunny. That’s all I’m here for.”

“This is…T-This feels disgusting.” For the first time since he’d met you, he saw a break in your resolve.

“I-I don’t…” You sighed and threw your hands in defeat. “I don’t know what you want from me if you don’t want this.”

“Is this the shit that you do?”

“Elvis, I’m trying to~”

“Is this what he has you do for him?”

You felt exposed—like there was nothing surrounding you.

“You said he takes care of you, well in exchange for what?” He already knew the answer.

“…If you don’t want to have a good time then I’m leaving.” You panicked when he grabbed you and struggled against him—swinging your free arm with as much strength as you could muster. He relinquished his grip immediately, opting for blocking his face. “Don’t touch me like that. Do you hear me?”

“I’m sorry~”

“Don’t fucking grab me like that~”

“I won’t, alright, fuck. Just don’t leave.”

“Why should I stay? For you to interrogate me some more?”

“I didn’t mean to pry, honey, I just…fuck, I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what this just turned into o-or what it always was—I just don’t know.” You believed him.

“…BB’s paying Ron for me to be here, so…whatever you’ve been wanting now’s the best time because who knows when you’ll get another opportunity~”

“See? Stop, alright, that’s what I’m saying. What do you mean he’s paying him?”

“You know the game now, you might as well play.”

“I don’t want to. I’m not interested. Alright? I mean, for fuck sakes, do you even want to be here? H-How many people have you slept with tonight?”

Suddenly, you felt like crying. You knew why but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. You didn’t want to acknowledge the underlying disgust behind his tone because that would mean having to admit that he was in fact disgusted by you. It would mean having to admit that most people are or would be disgusted by you. You didn’t typically have to admit or acknowledge those things, and so you never did. Instead, you picked your purse up from the ground and prepared to leave.

“Don’t go,” He insisted.

“I’m sorry that I’m not the person you thought I was. But I won’t stand here and be degraded for things I have no control over.”

“Is he forcing you?”

“No. I like it.” You couldn’t stop the tears anymore and you stepped into the light to hide them—you knew he wouldn’t follow. “I like t-the freedom and money and it’s w-what I’m good at, so…”

“I’m not degrading you. I-I’m worried about you, honey, y-you’re…you’re just a little girl.”

You felt an odd sense of relief at his words. For once it seemed like someone was allowing you to be something other than what Ron had molded you into—you didn’t feel the need to pretend.

“How much did BB pay? I-I’ll give it back.”

“You don’t have to…I ruined your night.”

“No you didn’t.” Suddenly his hands were on your shoulders and while you didn’t feel the immediate urge to recoil, you rushed to push him away.

“Elvis, don’t. Someone might see~”

“I don’t care.” You let him stay. “How’d you get caught up with Ron?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll never see me the same.”

He wasn’t silent for long, but it felt like an eternity. “I didn’t know you were playing a game when I told you I loved you.”

“So?”

“So, I meant it. And telling me won’t change that,” He promised.

You tried to take a deep breath but there was still hardly any air in the room. “…He married my mother when I was younger.”

You could’ve imagined it, but you thought you felt him tense. “What happened to your mother?”

“She got away.”

“She left you?”

“Yeah, she’s…I don’t know where she is.”

“How old are you?”

You hesitated, you shouldn’t want him to know. You were careful to never reveal even the slightest detail of your life to anyone. But this was different—he was different. “…Nineteen.”

“How long have you been doing this?” His voice was clearer than it had been all evening, suddenly it felt like he had the upper hand.

“He lets me come and go when I do this. I feel freer when I can leave and do whatever I want~”

“That wasn’t my question~”

“I know that at the end of the day, if it's all accounted for, I can always go home. That's the way it is, that's the way it’s always been.”

“He’s taking advantage of you.”

“I’m not a little girl.” You pushed his hands off of your shoulders and faced him. “Like I told BB, things are good. Things were good before you.”

“Are they not now?”

“No, because he’s sick of hearing about Elvis Presley. You call a million times and send me gifts and expect him not to give me shit about it?”

“You said he didn’t care.”

“He doesn’t care, Elvis. No one cares, so why do you?”

“No one in their right mind would be okay with what you just described.”

“BB paid your bill tonight and didn’t bat an eye, wanna know why? Because it’s business. You’d save yourself a lot of trouble if you chose to see it that way.”

“I refuse to see it that way.”

“Then enjoy being miserable.” You made to leave but he stopped you—this time with a gentler hand.

“How much for a night?”

“Don’t worry about paying BB back, he doesn’t need your money.”

“How much?”

“…$20.”

“If I sent you back with $60 would you come with me for a few days?”

“That’s the way the game works.”

“Then come back with me.”

“You’re twisting the rules to your advantage.”

“You said yourself that you were getting good at bending the rules.”

“My bending the rules and your bending the rules aren’t the same.”

“How so?”

“Because, E…I know how not to fall in love.” He looked devastated as you stood up on your tip toes to leave a kiss on his cheek. “I won’t see you again.”

“Don’t say that.” His voice was quieter. “I-I’ll pay, birdie, I’ll p-play the game.”

“You said you weren’t interested.”

“I’m interested in being near you for as long as I can be before you disappear and it feels like this never happened.” He huffed. “I’ll do $70.”

“No~”

“$80, $100~”

“It’s not about the money, Elvis. You could give him a million dollars—he’s still gonna want to hear from me by the end of the week.”

“What’s he gonna do if you don’t show up?”

Your expression must’ve said something you didn’t because the crease between his eyebrows was there again—but this time it wasn’t because he was angry.

“I can’t stand that look you get when you think about him.”

“What look?”

“Like you’re scared of him.”

“I am scared of him.” The confession shocked you the same as it shocked him. You hadn’t admitted it before to yourself or to anyone else how much fear had been instilled into you from an early age.

“Please, come back with me.”

“You’re leaving soon~”

“You’ll be safe at Graceland.”

“I can’t explain why, E, but I…I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“How will I know if you’re okay?”

“You won’t know.”

“I-If…” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “If I sent letters here would you stop by sometimes to pick em up?”

You shrugged. “I’m usually in town every Saturday.”

“Oh, now you tell me?”

You bit back a smile. “You’ll forget all about me when you get over there. You’ll see.”

“No I won’t. The whole time I’m gonna be trying to get back here to you.”

“You might see me there, you never know.”

“You haven’t actually been to Germany have you?” He asked.

“No, but you believed me, didn’t you?”

“You lie too good. It’s scary.”

“It keeps you wondering.”

He did that thing where he looked at you like he was trying to engrave the vision of you onto his retinas and you smiled fully. “Promise you’ll stop by for the letters.”

“I promise.”

“Swear.”

“I swear.”

“…I still don’t believe you.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He sighed and looked off.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You said, rubbing his shoulder. “W-We can just…talk about Germany if you want.”

He nodded and you moved to find a comfortable enough spot to sit down in. He joined you on the old wooden floorboards and crossed his legs.

“Are you okay?”

“…No.”

“What’s wrong?”

He shrugged and leaned back against the wall behind him. “I’m scared.”

“Of Germany?”

“Of everything.”

You nodded. “What can I do?”

He shook his head and you understood. You moved closer and laid on his shoulder.

“No matter what happens, bun, you gotta know that it’s gonna be okay. They can take whatever they want. They can’t have your soul. That’s yours. It’ll always be yours, even after this. You’ll see.”

“Do you think they’ll remember me?”

You listened to the frenzied fans through the window for a moment and laughed:

“I think they’re going to make sure everyone remembers you, baby.”

[starwalker03]

A popular fandom headcanon is that if someone calls Dick, Tim, or Jason ‘Robin’ in a time of stress they would listen. There was actually a scene with that in a Nightwing annual.

Would this work with WMLP Dick? I imagine he’d be super pissed if someone tried it regardless if it worked or not.

Man the idea of Bruce yelling “ Robin Stand Down!” At Dick

ooooooooh I had some delicious thoughts about this. And most of them are spoilery.

For the most part the only thing that'd do is make Dick angrier because jesus fucking christ are you joking? you think you can start calling me that and I'll keel over like a fucking dog? I'm not a child. how dare you come in here and talk about Robin, as if you didn't leave him for dead.

But.

that being said.

Something happening where the league is working with Deathstroke. And they get to the end of the mission and everything had been tense and difficult but otherwise fine. And some guy makes a comment. Someone who's got some power or whatever and saw Renegade and Deatshtroke together. and they've lost the battle so as a last minute gesture they're like "of course Deathstroke's dog can't do the job himself, has to run to the next authority to order him around like the little bitch he is. After all the work he put into you you're just his little slut-"

And Dick has shot him in the jaw before he can even really finish the sentence. and he's tearing through people again to get to this man, who's still alive but has half his face blow off, so that he can beat the shit out of him, and the leaguers are too far away, busy handling something else as they begin arrests. It's not till he's standing over the man, gun leveled on him, that Bruce finally gets close enough and yells "Robin no!"

And Dick pauses.

and everything goes still for a moment as quiet cold rage seeps into the air.

and he looks up at Batman. Batman, who he has ignored this whole time. Batman, who he never attempts to be in the same room as. Batman, who he has refused to deign with his gaze-

"Now you have my attention," and his voice is cold as it seeps out of a voice altering device. he cocks his head, "and yet still no authority."

and fires.

he puts his gun away, not bothering to come any step closer to Bruce, who is horrified. Because not only has Dick killed a man in front of him, but he's done so with the knowledge that Bruce knows it's him and he still does not care.

"when did you figure it out?"

"there were too many coincidences." which Bruce had always said he could never accept too many coincidences. one can be overlooked and two can be humorous, but any more was worth suspicion. "Slade went out of his way to kill specifically you, and then took on an apprentice afterwards who could have been your age. You seem acquainted with Artemis, who would otherwise never dare speak to Deathstroke and those affiliated with him. You took in the speedster who attacked Central city..." and other such things perhaps Bruce has learned in this hypothetical scenario.

"and you waited till now..." Dick says, "when you thought it would make me do as I was told."

"Robin-"

"say it again." and his hand is back on his gun, "one more time, see what I do about it. I have very little patience left for you."

mmmmmmm delicious.

[ss-shitstorm]

Okay okay the ratchet first fp au was equally heartrending but also perfect and thank you so much for going into so much detail to expound on my silly little fantasy, I love it! But if you don’t mind, I’m gonna poke you with one more question that’s bugged me ever since MC woke up and ratch op and bee had to catch her up on the last 30 years: they mentioned unicron and Optimus’ amnesia (which is another au you’re portraying marvelously well btw! I love shiny and new to pieces!), as well as a couple of the other tfp eps, but I don’t recall them mentioning synth-en? Like, at all? (Unless I totally missed it?) Between ratchet’s problems and op’s withdrawal, I figured that the tension between them like the scene where they fight and ratchet accuses op of being too soft to take out megatron and that’s why they lost cliff jumper, combined with MC’s unconsciousness, op’s guilt about it, and ratchet’s (partial?) blame for op putting her in that condition to start with and envy knowing he would’ve had more restraint and cared for her more in his mind (and them both missing her terribly and being lost without her), would kind of cause a boiling point between them? (Fun fact if you didn’t know it but the tfp writers had tossed around the idea of ratchet blaming op for elita one’s death instead of cliffjumper, but they had the Orion pax arc coming up and they didn’t want to add anymore characters or smth so they nixed it) So if ratchet spews about mc (and elita??) to op, does op snap too in this case? Do they actually come to blows? Does op even get mad and rise to the bait or does it just break his heart bc now ratchet is turning on him too and pointing out every mistake he’s made and ratchets never been that mean to him before and wouldn’t dream of saying any of it under normal circumstances but is so hyped up he no longer has a filter? I am reeling here at the possibilities! I am so fricken curious bc your unique individual characterizations of them as well as their mutual adoration for mc would give so many delicious untapped layers to that episode - and again you don’t have to answer this at all but I would love to hear your thoughts! :) thank you so much for your time!

(dude I'm so sorry it took me so long to respond to this AND that it's nowhere near as long as that other ask)

A : anon thank you for the praise about everything esp. shiny n new like goddamn I love that little thing so much, B : I had no idea about Elita in TFP until you mentioned that and I'm very glad they left that out bc I would absolutely have not fucking survived that my heart's in pieces just from reading that, and C :

I think they would have started fighting. As in, Ratchet, with 0 filter, would start laying it out how mad he is about what happened to you. He would blame it on Optimus, and at the time, he would feel totally justified in saying it.

-Optimus would be barely able to hold back his rage, but manages to restrain himself. Tells Ratchet he needs to go home, let that crap work through his system, and recharge before talking to him again.

-Ratchet would then suggest Optimus frag him because that tends to knock people unconscious for indefinite periods of time.

-Optimus looses it. Lunges for him, grabs him and fucking throttles him.

-And the second his servos wrap around his throat, freezes. Because he touched someone. He touched someone he cared about, and he did it with the intent to hurt them.

-He goes catatonic.

-Ratchet, slightly sobered, has to pry his servos off of him, digit by digit.

-Once he does, he leaves in a huff, runs off to punch Megatron in the face like he originally intended.

-But not before ducking out of sight and having the quickest, filthiest guilty-wank of his life. Doesn’t matter how mad you are. Angrier-than-god-Optimus touching you will make you cream your jeans, and marching through deception territory with a spontaneous overload looming on the horizon probably isn’t a great strategy.

-Once he gets the shit kicked out of him and finally sobers up, and realizes that entire exchange not only happened, but happened in front of Bumblebee, he decides this was, in fact, the second worst thing he’s ever fucking done. He calculates the damage done to his filters, finds that the synth-en was mostly processed by other organs, chugs the rough hi-grade equivalent of 2 handles of bourbon, and blacks out for 72 hours straight.

-Neither of them ever speak about it again.

-To each other.

-They both tell you at different times after you’ve woken up

-shock, sadness, understanding, and reason no# 234382643 for feeling guilty about coma time.jpg.

-you bring it up to Bee eventually after a loooooong-ass time.

-He’s just like “wow that sucked but I figured it was par for the course having two(2) reincarnated gods and the universe’s most overpowered 3rd wheel as a family.”

-Thank you for putting things into perspective Baybee boy.

-Reader eventually relays this to both of them.

-Everyone feels marginally less shitty.

[liquorisce]

the sex to try to conceive would be so terribly tragic it’s making me tear up just thinking about it 😭 mikasa so clingy and weepy because it’s the only time where she’s able to allow herself emotional release vs eren who’s doing everything he can to please her to give her what she wants anything to make her happy after the shit he pulled.

yeah fuck, it’s just tears all around. i think eren would blow his fuse sooner rather than later bc he knows it’s only hurting her more. he wants to make her happy but he’s also so mad— mad at himself and mad at her for being this way, like an open, smarting wound that keeps getting bruised over and over again. he has no place to say it after what he did but, “… why are you doing this?”

Vacant eyes look back at him. The lack of emotion in them only made him angrier. “Just tell me what’s on your mind, Mikasa. Call me names. Tell me I’m the worst person in the world.” His voice cracks. “Just don’t… do this. It feels like you’re slipping away from me, and I can’t bear it.”

Maybe she’d leave the house, turning away from Eren because she couldn’t bear it either. Eren always expects so much from her, expects her to tell him her feelings, expects her to do things his way— but that’s not who she is. But who is she? Of late, she’s been trying so hard to hold herself together, she hasn’t realised that the cracks that started that awful day had spread like vines across her entire being, threatening to split her into so many tiny pieces… like dust, like nothing.

And when the first sob rips through her throat, when she’s already out the door, gripping the railing that protected her from falling out to sea, she feels herself crumbling, the person she tried to protect disintegrating to the ground.

Eventually she goes back; She walks in to find Eren pacing holes in their hardwood floor. A frenzy in his green eyes that ebbs when he finally sees her. “Mikasa,” he says. Eren always managed to say so much when he said her name. Concern, anger, fear, perhaps. It feels like home.

But for the first time ever, free of the pieces of herself and the glue that she’d poured over it, she recognises that even if it feels like home, it’s a home that no longer feels safe to her, drenched in ugly feelings of mistrust and lack of self-worth, and it all came from him. The man she’d loved her entire life.

Eren is conflicted— he doesn’t know whether to run to her and crush her in his arms, or to give her space bc she obviously needs it, so he does an awkward thing where he reaches out for her hand, cold from the wind.

“When you left, I—“

“I felt free.” Her voice sounds foreign in the room. Like honesty that had not echoed in those halls for so long.

His fingers slip out of hers. There are storms in his eyes, words heavy on his tongue. But maybe Mikasa will say more. Maybe she will finally say something.

“You want me to tell you what’s on my mind?”

He nods.

“If l slept with another man, what would be on your mind, Eren?”

It’s not something easy to imagine, the conjured sight makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“Is that what this is then, you want some kind of revenge?“

Mikasa laughs. A frustrated, broken, empty sound. “I feel like you don’t even know me anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t, Mikasa,” Eren says desperately. “I’m not a mind reader. You feel so distant from me. You look my Mikasa and you feel like my Mikasa, but I don’t know who you are anymore, because you won’t tell me. You won’t let me inside anymore, and maybe that’s my own fault.”

His lips are worn and bitten but he continues. “I fucked up, and I don’t deserve another chance. I don’t deserve to know you anymore, I don’t deserve that privilege. But you won’t even tell me that, and” —

His voice cracks with emotion. “I want to fix this so bad, I want to be good to you, Mikasa. But I don’t know how. And you won’t tell me. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I put you in this position and I keep asking for more, but please if you still want me, please let me in.”

“There was a time,” he grins weakly, “when you’d have whacked me on the head for being an idiot, and told me how to do things right. D’you remember that, Mikasa?”

“I should have grown up by now, but maybe I haven’t. Maybe that’s all your husband is; an overgrown child, but please tell me how to make it right. Because I need you.”

Mikasa’s eyes are heavy with unshed tears. “You always do this,” she says shakily. “You have so many feelings. So many needs.” Then quieter, “I feel like there’s no space for mine.”

“I’ll make space for it,” he says fiercely. He points his finger to his chest, not caring if it looks silly. “There’s so much space in here, and I will treasure them, I swear. If you let me. Please, Mikasa, you have to let me.”

And after fighting what looks like a war inside of herself, she comes to him. Places her head on his chest and lets him wrap his arms around her, and listens to the quickness of his heartbeat as he promises her he’ll take care of her.

“I thought about leaving, you know,” she says softly, into his shirt. It was wet from her tears. She can feel him stiffen. But he doesn’t loosen his hold around her

He tries to sound measured when he asks, “Why didn’t you?”

“Don’t you want to know why I wanted to leave?”

He holds his tongue, makes space for her feelings. Kills his assumptions. “Tell me.” Tell me everything.

“Because I couldn’t bear to stay in a place that kept reminding me I wasn’t enough for you.”

“Mikasa” —

“You sought someone else out and brought her to our bed, Eren.” And despite herself, another fat tear rolls down her cheek. “You fucked her to feel better, maybe? Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t enough.”

He hates hearing these words from her, they twist inside of him like a knife, but he doesn’t stop her. Because he promised. “But I didn’t leave. Because I wasn’t enough.”

“Wasn’t enough to be yours, wasn’t enough to be alone. I wasn’t enough of me, Eren, do you understand what I mean?”

She looks up into his anguished, verdant eyes. So full of fire and feeling, that obviously he would never understand. “I don’t know who I am, without you, Eren.” And she knows even as she says it, that Eren would not understand. “I’m not like you, Eren. I can’t leave, and still feel whole.”

“It’s not true, Mikasa,” he says. And Mikasa knows he’s just saying it because he cannot fathom, because he’s in denial.

“You’ll never be able to see yourself the way I do. The way other people do. The way other people look up to you. You could leave me and thrive.” He laughs bitterly. “It terrifies me. You could leave me and be so much better off without me. Maybe you’d find someone else who isn’t such a colossal fuck up. Maybe you don’t even need anybody. Because you— you’re so good, you don’t see it.”

[serafiel-jacobs]

Medical Appointment (Fanfic)

New Chapter of my Angst series 💜

Carlo had recently woken up from his afternoon nap and Geppetto was glad that he was calm.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Geppetto was so frustrated he almost punched the wall, he is going to need to put up a sign to tell everyone to just leave them alone; Carlo now has a grin on his face and Geppetto is begging him again to behave himself, as he opens the door he is even angrier because he sees two familiar men in front of him, Simon and Paracelsus.

He unfortunately knows Simon well, Paracelsus not so much, he has seen him before while he had a few meetings with the alchemists but he never really bothered to talk to him aside from pleasantries.

“Uncle Simon!” Carlo shouted from behind and gave Simon a big hug, and Geppetto could see that he was in deep pain, specially because of his state.

Carlo gave a friendly wave to Paracelsus and that confused Geppetto, as they had never met before and he didn’t like where this was going, but he let them in and took them to the living room.

Paracelsus wastes no time in explaining why he is here, and how he came by last time when he wasn’t home, Geppetto is furious, how dare he try to use his son as a scientific experiment? He clenched his fist, he had to restrain himself because right now he wants to hurt him.

“Geppetto you might not understand, but I want what’s best for your son”

That’s fucking bullshit and he knows it, “Well, then help me understand”

“Mmm well” Paracelsus pauses and looks at Carlo, it’s best to have this conversation without him here, if he senses that he is a threat to his father he would probably break him in half, “Carlo sweetie, the grown-ups need to talk, why don’t you go and play with your uncle Simon?”

Before Simon can even say anything Geppetto speaks up.

“Yes Carlo, go and take your uncle Simon downstairs so you can play with him”

Carlo is beaming with joy and forcefully grabs Simon and drags him to the basement.

“I think you enjoyed that just a little” Paracelsus has a smile on his face.

“A lot actually, now, explain” Geppetto wants him to go straight to the point.

“Geppetto your son is special, with the arm of god his body has abilities that aren’t normal for a human”

“Is that why he is so strong?”

“Yes, and much more than that, did you know that when he got sick it was actually Influenza?”

“What?!”

Paracelsus explained some of the tests he did leaving out certain information of course and he also explained how Geppetto just by being near Carlo he is getting some of the same properties.

“What’s your goal here? If you-“ But Geppetto was interrupted.

“I won’t harm him, trust me, the healthier he is, the better for me, plus I already have Simon to do the more, invasive, tests” Paracelsus smiles even wider, it just makes him so happy to run tests on Simon.

“And why should I cooperate with you?” Geppetto doesn’t like this at all.

“Because I know you caused the frenzy and I can blow the whistle whenever I want”

Geppetto bites his lip, then he has no choice.

“I also know about Carlo’s very fun hobby, although I’m surprised he hasn’t killed in a while”

“Shut up”

“Do you know how many people your son has killed Geppetto?”

“No, and I don’t want to hear it, shut up, he doesn’t know any better”

For a moment Paracelsus thinks about telling him, or at least imply that it is in the double digits, but again, he doesn’t want Carlo to realize that Geppetto is angry at him.

“Forgive me, let’s not fight, we can work together without a hassle if we agree on a few things”

“Like what?” Geppetto is trying to calm himself but it’s hard to do so when it involves Carlo, he doesn’t care what happens to him, but he won’t let anyone harm his son, not ever again.

“I need to run tests on Carlo from time to time, and I need you to just be a good father and tell your son how brave he is for staying so strong while the doctor is giving him a check up”

Geppetto closes his eyes in frustration, but he has no choice in the matter and it’s best to try and “get along” with Paracelsus, or at least not be hostile.

“If you hurt Carlo in any way, I’ll kill you myself before he does it” It’s not a threat, it’s a promise, not all puppets got destroyed, and Geppetto still has the universal command to control them.

“You have my word that I won’t”

“Do we have a deal then?” Paracelsus can tell that Geppetto is still fully convinced so he decides to give him something fun.

“I’ll let you borrow Simon when we do them, let me give you a little break from caring for Carlo, his uncle should be able to babysit him from time to time”

“We have a deal then”

Paracelsus let out a small laugh, but unfortunately for Geppetto he wasn’t done talking.

“Now, remember how I mentioned how being near Carlo is also affecting your health?” Paracelsus takes his tools out and he sees a shiver going down Geppetto’s spine.

“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be quick this time” he says as he holds a syringe. “Now be a good boy like your son and hold still”

——

Simon knew that Carlo was insane but he didn’t think he was this insane.

Carlo was playing with his “toys”; Geppetto must be as insane as well because why the hell did he build his son this? The worst is seeing the puppet that was built of Venigni, he knew him in the past, and everything about it felt so wrong.

Carlo thinks they are the real ones, hell he thinks that stupid teddy bear is the real Romeo, Simon doesn’t understand how that’s even possible, how he is so delusional, but he isn’t crazy so obviously he wouldn’t understand.

Simon sees Carlo become quiet, extremely quiet and it’s starting to worry him, and he isn’t prepared for what he hears when Carlo finally speaks up again.

“Uncle Simon… where is Sophia?”

He doesn’t know, how would he know? Carlo isn’t his brother.

“I miss her, I haven’t seen her in so long”

Simon stares at Carlo, who is looking at him expectantly, should he lie and say she is alive? If he does that then he is going to start making excuses of where she is supposed to be, and worse why Carlo can’t see her. Even if he is honest would Carlo believe him? Would his mind process that Sophia is dead or will it just refuse to accept it?

“Sophia is…away”

“Away where?” Carlo asks so innocently.

“She is living now with some relatives that aren’t from Krat” It’s the best excuse he come up with, “I’ve told you before right? That our family comes from somewhere else?”

“Mmmm” That’s all Carlo says, and Simon starts to get worried about whether Carlo will ask for more clarification but he seems to be content with that and stops asking.

He stops asking about Sophia but he won’t shut up with his questions.

“What are you sick from?”

Nothing, Paracelsus is just a maniac that keeps him sick against his will.

“It’s complicated Carlo you wouldn’t understand”

“Does he care good care of you?”

No. “He does”

“Do you like him”

“Yes” there is no hesitation in his voice this time.

There was a pause.

No, that’s not true I don’t like him.

You love him.

No, no, no I don’t like him, I don’t love him, I hate him, I hate him.

“Uncle Simon, what’s wrong?” Carlo asks, and Simon realizes that he is shaking and small tears are rolling down his eyes.

Simon falls onto the floor, he is now on his knees.

“Are you feeling sick?”

Simon can’t speak, he doesn’t even know what he feels anymore, but Carlo hugs him, gently this time, and Simon hugs him back because he really needs to feel comfort, to feel warmth.

Thankfully he manages to compose himself and stand up again. He lets out a sigh a pats Carlo in the head.

“You are a good boy Carlo”

——

Carlo and Simon are now upstairs, and Geppetto looks very uncomfortable but he is trying to put up a strong front so as to not let Carlo notice.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Dammit, he noticed.

“Yes Carlo, I’m fine, I just… don’t like injections”

Paracelsus rolls his eyes, that was nothing compared to what he does to Simon, and Geppetto is going to have to get used to getting tested as well.

“Aww Carlo look at that, you are even braver than your daddy”

Carlo has a smile on his face and Geppetto is giving Paracelsus a death stare.

As they are making their way to leave, Simon has an idea, he isn’t going to let Paracelsus go outside with his ego intact.

“Carlo before we leave, why don’t you give Paracelsus a hug? He is going to be your special doctor so he deserves your love too”

“Wait” Paracelsus tries to protest but-

“Go ahead son, Paracelsus is like your new uncle, give him one of your big hugs, to show how much you love him” Geppetto says.

Before Paracelsus can say anything else Carlo hugs him, a suffocating hug, too suffocating, when Carlo finally lets go he falls to the floor, desperately gasping for air.

He looks up to see that Geppetto and Simon both smirking, Carlo is beaming with joy and saying how happy he is to have a new uncle. Before Paracelsus can get up again, Carlo gets closer and whispers something in his ear.

“I know”

Paracelsus feels dread, Carlo knows that he is special, he might not know exactly how but Carlo knows and he is now taking advantage full advantage of his strength; That he shouldn’t underestimate him, and Paracelsus won’t make the same mistakes because God knows what the boy has up his sleeves.

When all is said and done, Geppetto turns to look at his son.

“Carlo, you were a really good boy today, do you want Daddy to play with you?” Geppetto doesn’t like the games Carlo makes him play, but today his son deserves a small reward.

[venovenous]

my walk to the park today fucking suuucked too because it was so crowded with kids whose parents weren't watching them so I couldn't swing without a toddler running right in front of my feet every 4 minutes. as I was walking there these random guys were yelling weird shit at me and laughing like "heeey buddy" *obnoxious laughter* *homophobic intent* *kill yourselves* I'm just so pissed about everything everything makes me angry the aura around me is hostile constantly nothing makes me calm down when I think of everything else going on. I got so scared not just for my brothers physical health but his mental health too as he has the burden of his chronic illness now at such a critical time. I feel so inadequate at my job lately which is usually my second home. Just small details that I've been blowing up over because I'm so dissatisfied with everything lately. and Ive been getting angrier at redacted than I have in months and as time passes I want to make up our friendship less and less with redacted as I think back on the past 5 months and how downright shitty and emotionally childish he's been to me while acting like he's mature and holier than thou. I'm so full of sadness and anger. It's all so heavy. I'm scared to go back to therapy with these normal people problems when the last my therapist saw me I was stuck in such a small box completely restricted in life experience by my severe anxiety and self loathing. now it's almost as if I care about myself so much so that I can't tolerate when I see others mistreating me. who else is going to protect me. I've come out of my mental shell and the real world is so disheartening. how am I supposed to fall in love with this

[suffer-forever]

@spitblaze Thurston and I are doing a multi-part Jojo rewatch right now, and last night we watched Red Hot Chili Pepper parts 1 and 2 and it made me think of this. Part 1 in particular really reinforces your thoughts a lot, IMO -

The sequence of events from the point RHCP takes the motorcycle to the time he escapes through the underground wires has Okuyasu exhibit a bunch of behaviors that I associate VERY heavily with how my ADHD functions, tbh. I'll toss some manga caps here

First we start off with the motorcycle trick (v badass), Okuyasu shaves the bike in half to remove RHCP's power source. This is what Josuke says to that, specifically:

noted by Josuke here is that Okuyasu's perceived "dumbness" is not a lack of intelligence, it's a lack of application. so that totally fits (also check out Jotaro's perfect cylinder of a head lmao)

Emotions are running quite high though -

now, I should explain that at least when it comes to myself, I consider almost all my disordered thinking to be a result of ADHD - I also have a medical diagnosis of depression, but I feel like the depression is stemming from the ADHD root, and same goes for my BPD.

bearing that in mind, I think this moment (and what we are about to see happen) are really good examples of that ADHD thing where difficulty with regulating emotion causes a system overload that means making decisions can be really fucking difficult - again, something Okuyasu KNOWS about himself, but only acknowledges the nurture-source (his brother's bullying) vs. also understanding the nature-source (the adhd). hopefully that makes sense. Onward:

There is a several-page long battle between Oku+The Hand and RHCP. During this sequence RHCP is constantly belittling him and calling him slow. Even as he becomes angrier (to say nothing of the pre-existing rage surrounding his brother's murder), Okuyasu gains the upper hand:

Jotaro tells Okuyasu to wait for the three of them to make their way there so they can ask the Stand the location of the bow and arrow. Grabbing his only chance, RHCP begins applying mental pressure to Okuyasu immediately, exploiting his decision anxiety (which tbh now that I think about it could be an instance of Demand Anxiety, huh):

This actually spans the end of one manga chapter and leads into another. In the next chapter, this type of inner dialogue/pressure is given super heavy emphasis:

I mean. I've fucking been here before lol. The stakes being so high makes it worse

I'm just going to post the entire following page because I really love Araki's paneling and it's also just so, so fucking relateable

i'm not gonna rehash the rest of the fight blow by blow, RHCP gets away due to a shenanigan, etc and so forth

One thing that totally stood out to me though was this part, which reminded me of you talking about how hard he is on himself. Not one of the other three even so much as say a word criticizing him after he took the swing that exposed the underground cables, but here he is:

shrug emoji. i can't actually think of a better example of what you were talking about (but i'm gonna be thinking about it through the rest of this rewatch)

sry for the long post. I am Thinking About Jojo Again

Yknow. I feel like part of Okuyasu's insistence that he's 'dumb' might be like.......okay so I personally I look at him and see a dude with adhd, almost definitely unmedicated because almost every medication for that was Very Illegal in Japan until very recently. So that almost definitely has an affect on his grades in some way, and being the pragmatic kinda guy he is he probably takes school seriously enough that he's gotten it in his head that his grades are a reflection of his self-worth, if not his intelligence. Does he get better grades than Josuke? Probably. Does it still tear his self-esteem to shreds when he gets his homework back and see that he got so many questions wrong when he remembered to do it in the first place? Also probably. But this is delving into headcanon territory now so. Idk. Okuyasu isn't dumb! He's emotional and loud and maybe a smidge impulsive but he's a teenager and none of that exactly a measure of intelligence is it!!!

EXACTLY!!! And like, without a doubt he's got a pile of anxiety (specifically surrounding making decisions, this is canon to the text) that probably extends to many aspects of his life. He's suffered all kinds of abuse and lack of support for his entire life, and like - re: grades in school, he's shown to get low scores on at least one English test (that Koichi got a VASTLY lower score on, and this is like veryyyyy early in the story when he had only recently gone through everything with losing his brother and all that) but as you said, he's literally a fucking teenager and it's absurd to me that people can take what he's saying about being "dumb" at face value. Totally reads heavy ADHD to me and also due to his delinquent brother's influence I think initially he probably wouldn't have put very high value on day to day schoolwork but pragmatic is a fucking great word to describe him tbh!

[remusslove]

Hi I read your mean friend fic and I’m in love with it! Do u think u can do one with crybaby!reader and Mattheo where he is mad because something happened at work and he blows up on her but she was extra sensitive that day, but it dosent catch his attention til later and it ends with fluff! Sorry for making the request so long anyway have a good day❤️!

Extra sensitive~ mattheo riddle

“10% or nothing. Take it or leave it.” Mattheo said sternly into the phone. If there’s one thing about him, it’s that he absolutely hated people that went against his demands.

“This is ridiculous! I worked day and night just for a lousy ten percent-” the man began rambling before mattheo irritably hung up the phone.

He sighed before looking down at his watch. 9:30pm. He stood up from his desk and collected his coat along with his keys and wallet.

He walked out the building swearing underneath his breath till he reached the car. He started the engine before slamming the door with enough force to make the car jolt.

A few minutes later he was met with a packed freeway due to many cars trying to get home for the holidays. “Jesus fucking Christ” he cursed trying to maintain his temper.

He finally made it home much to your excitement, as you came running down the stairs. “Mattheo your back! Look!” You exclaimed pointing towards the sink.

You turned the knob back and forth with a grin on your face. “Me and Theodore fixed it when you were at work!” You said with a proud smile. Before mattheo left the sink was not running as much water as it was usually, so you decided to ask Theodore to help you fix it before he comes home .

You only thought of it as a sweet gesture but mattheo didn’t. You being a bit oblivious to the light hearted compliments Theodore gave you made mattheo absolutely crazy. “So he was here? With you? Alone?” He asked you with a glare.

You let out a giggle with a confused head tilt. “I mean yeah you were at work, why?” You asked softly as your smile slowly vanished when you noticed his facial expressions turn angrier.

“Why? Because he fucking likes you y/n!” He exclaimed making your eyes widen. “No he doesn’t! He was just being nice” you tried to defend the boy making mattheo groan.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me y/n, you really don’t think that he likes you? The kisses on the cheek, the hugs around your waist, and i have to come home to you telling me that you’ve been home alone with him?!”

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry” you said cowering behind the counter. He scoffed once again. “Of course you didn’t know, your too stupid to figure anything out” he spat as a few tears began flooding down your cheeks.

You whimpered before quickly walking out of the kitchen. He sighed running his fingers through his hair as the guilt began to seep in.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Bunny?” He called out for you in a soft tone. “Go ‘way!” You said through your quiet sobs as you constantly wiped tears off your face.

“Cmon out for me bunny please?” He asked you softly slowly peeling the fluffy pink blanket off your huddled figure.

“Your so mean sometimes” you mumbled looking away from him. “I know baby m’ sorry mkay?” He apologized before stroking your cheek as gently as someone would touch a ancient statue.

You loved how he cared for you even in bad moments like these. You couldn’t help but lean into his large comforting hand.

He placed a kiss on top of your head before pulling you into his lap despite all your squirming and whining, strong arms bound tight around you as he presses a succession of kisses to your neck and face.

“ ‘u forgive me now princess?” He cooed at you making you huff in defeat. You curled into his lap hiding your face in his chest before nodding with a whimper.

“How ‘bout tomorrow we make some of those little paper snowflakes that you love so much since I was such a meanie today hm?” He suggested causing you to perk up.

“Can we make Christmas cards too?” You said looking up into his eyes. He sighed playfully before nodding and gliding his hand over your hair making you hum in content.

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝<3

[kirishimaswife2819]

ahh hi! may i request Midoriya, denki, and shinsou (if you don't wanna do all these than that's alright!) reacting to a male or gn s/o flinching during a fight? like they were having a little argument s/o thinks they're about to get like- smacked for whatever reason and flinches? sorry if this is a bad req if this makes you uncomfortable that by all means delete/ignore! sorry my english is bad ahh

Their Reaction to Their S/o Flinching During An Argument || Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki

Masterlist 1 || Masterlist 2

↠Author’s Note: Okay so I know these weren't the characters you requested but I don't write for Denki (anymore) or Shinsou, I apologize!! I still hope you enjoy this tho!! Thank you for requesting!! - JJ <3

↠Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, and Shoto Todoroki x gn!Reader

↠Summary: Their reaction to their partner flinching during an argument, as if they were going to hit them

↠Genre: Angst/hurt/comfort

↠Word Count: 600+

↠Warnings: Arguing, mentions of smacking, no actual violence tho

↠Notes: None

Izuku Midoriya

The argument was over something pretty stupid, and Izuku did admit he got a little loud but he hadn’t expected you to flinch like that

“And I told you that- did you just flinch?” He immediately got quiet when you flinched, he had just raised his hands and moved them a bit to further explain with his hands, what he was saying out loud

“Um- yeah-? You weren’t gonna smack me-?” You asked, letting out a little bit of a breath when you realized he wasn’t going to hit you

“NO OF COURSE NOT WHY WOULD I DO THAT? ARE YOU OKAY-?”

He accidentally got a little loud again from the pure shock of you thinking that he was going to smack you

“I’m so sorry for getting loud and making you flinch and I’m sorry I made you think I would hit you and I’m sorry I got loud again and I’m sorry and I would never do that and I just hope that-”

“Izuku I forgave you an hour and a half ago-”

He feels really really bad and keeps apologizing for it periodically throughout the week, he just feels really really bad about the whole situation and he’d never hurt you and he hates that he made you think that he would

Katsuki Bakugou

Katsuki’s loud, violent, and even pretty mean at times, but normally not to you, that’s why you were so shocked that he was being so rude to you

You had tried talking to him about it when he suddenly snapped at you, going off about how you’re annoying and stupid and that you need to just leave him alone

While he was going on his rant, he lifted his hand to run it through his hair causing you to flinch back and he immediately stopped, his face softening a great deal, “...did you just flinch because of me?”

At first you thought he was going to blow up on you for flinching, but instead he just sighed and genuinely apologized

“I’m sorry.”

Now that might seem like nothing to anybody else but Katsuki doesn’t apologize, not like that, you’re not sure you had ever even heard him utter the words “im sorry” in the 6 months that you two had been dating, but he just did and then he shocked you even more when he went on

“I didn’t mean to get loud. I’m just in a bad mood. But I’d never lay my hands on you, I swear. Can I give you a hug?”

Katsuki also never asked for hugs or anything like that, he always waited for you to initiate so this also came as a shock to you, but you accepted his hug and his apology and hugged him, forgiving him for what he did

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto doesn’t get mad or fight with you often, so when he does, it’s really fucking scary

He was getting really loud and you could tell from the look on his face that he was pissed off, his skin even looked like it was fuming, he didn’t even make a move with his body, you just heard the tone in his voice get even angrier and louder, so you flinched

He paused right where he was, and attempted to calm his anger for a few seconds before speaking, “I apologize for scaring you. I’m assuming you flinched because you were scared I would hit you, but I was not going to do that and I never would do that. I know I got a little loud and I hope you’ll forgive me, love.”

Even though you accept his apology, he’d still probably bring you a gift the next day, probably something ridiculously expensive that you don’t need but he insists that you need it

[bluskye-27]

HI! I love your work! If you are alright with writing angst then can I request Headcannons With Usopp + Ace + Shanks (separately) when Their s/o gives them the silent treatment after a pretty bad argument? (Fluff at the end please!!)

Don’t forget to take your time!

Usopp, Ace & Shanks with Fem! S/O after a Bad Fight!

Summary: You and your boyfriend got into a nasty fight and now you won't talk to him. So, he made a plan to have you back in his arms once again.

God Usopp:

- Usopp is a pretty prideful when it comes to his skills and lying, which can be a disadvantage for him sometimes.

- One day, Usopp accidentally broke your favorite figurine. Not wanting to face your wrath, he puts the blame on Chopper nervously.

- Poor Chopper has no idea so it's clearly not him that did it.

- Your anger went tenfold. How DARE Usopp broke your figurine and fucking blame it on the innocent reindeer doctor?! Heck, he didn't even apologized to you and Chopper!

- You were hurt, mad, frustrated all at the same time. You thought Usopp would never lie to you but he just did.

- So you decided to punish him by giving him the silent treatment. And boy it took a huge toll on the long-nosed sniper :()

- He tried talking to you but obviously it didn't work since you will turn the other way and pretended he's not there.

- Usopp was sad and mad. Sad because the love of his life was ignoring him and Mad at himself because he fucking lied to your face.

- He would cry silently when he thinks no one can see. But Robin did.

- Robin, a close friend of yours, lectured Usopp about not lying to you anymore and told him he should admit his own fault and not blame others. The sniper nodded his head shamefully at every word the archeologist told him.

- Usopp is a great inventor so he went on a mission to make you forgive him. He will remake your figurine with Franky teaching him. The cyborg wanted to help him but Usopp declined, wanting to do it all by himself, pouring his heart on his work.

- You returned to your room just to see Usopp carefully placing the figurine on the desk. The man flinched once he noticed you looking at him.

- "Uhm, I... I'm just gonna leave this here and leave immediately! I swear!" About to run out, you stopped Usopp by hugging him.

- Usopp, having missed your warmth, cried softly and apologized repeatedly to you, snot running down his long nose.

- "I promise I won't lie to you ever again! I swear with all of my heart!"

- And you trust his words, knowing how genuine he was being.

Portgas D. Ace:

- Ace was mad. Livid even.

- After a huge battle with the Marines, you were injured from protecting him.

- He was angered at the fact that you protected him even if he can protect himself!

- After being dismissed from the medbay, you went to your shared room with Ace. Just to see the said man sitting on the bed with his head on his hands, fingers gripping his hair.

- Ace didn't even look at you when you entered the room which confuses you. Usually, he would tackle you into a hug by now. So why isn't he-?

- "Why did you do it?" His deep voice spoke, spooking you with its harshness.

- "Uh, what do you mean, Ace?" You shifted on your feet as you already knew what he was talking about. You gulped when he looked up at you, eyes glaring daggers.

- "Why the fuck did you took the blow?! Don't you trust my powers? Don't you trust me?"

- Scoffing, you crossed your bandaged arms, your own eyes glaring back at him. "I saw that bastard sneaking up to you! Of course, I would be fucking worried! He had a sea stone knife, for fuck's sake!"

- Growing angrier than he already was, Ace stood up and went to stare down at you. "You got hurt! What if you fucking died because of me? Huh?! Don't you think it will not devastate me?! Fuck no! You're the love of my life! The one who owns my heart! And yet you don't trust me that I can protect myself!"

- Tears started to drip down your eyes, you never imagined the sweet and precious Ace would get mad at you and starts yelling at you. Frustrated, you slapped him across the face.

- "Well, screw you Portgas! Can't a girlfriend be worried about her boyfriend's well-being?! Besides that, this pain is nothing compared to the thought of losing you! Don't you think it will not devastate me?! You know what? Fuck you! If you seriously think you're the strongest and cannot be defeated by anyone, then let's break up!"

- Stunned, Ace was left standing in his room (not your shared room anymore). He didn't know he was crying until he felt tears started to flow from his eyes, blurring his vision. What have he done?

- Meanwhile, you were in a similar state, curling up next to Izo as the said man rubs your back gently, trying to make you stop crying.

- After that day, you ignored Ace, the freckled man trying his best to talk to you but you denied his every approach. You even sat away from him when it's breakfast, lunch and dinner.

- Ace was getting desperate so he begged Marco and Thatch to help him talk to you. Seeing how devastated the younger man was, the two agreed. They thought of a plan before putting it into action.

- You were washing the dishes when you suddenly got grabbed from behind and was carried to the pantry. You tried getting out but seems like your abductors locked you in the room. Huffing angrily, you looked around the room just to see a sheepish looking Ace holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

- Your ex was blushing, looking away from you as he holds up the bouquet. "F-for you."

- You clicked your tongue in irritation. "That's it? You guys locked me in here with you just to give me flowers?! What the hell, Portgas?"

- Ace flinched under your glare, tears started to blur his eyes once again. "I'm sorry." He tried to wipe away his tears off but they kept on flowing. "I didn't mean to get mad at you... I was mad at myself for not watching my back and not being able to protect you... I'm so sorry, Y/n. I truly don't deserve an amazing girl like you. You don't deserve the son of a demon like me. I'm so sorry." He sobbed.

- Now crying yourself, you went to hug him, hiding your tear-stained face on the man's bare chest.

- You and Ace hugged like there's no tomorrow, your hearts slowly mending as the two of you shared a kiss full of love.

- "I love you, Ace."

- "I love you too, Y/n."

- You guys were startled when you heard the cheering and sobbing from the outside of the pantry. Apparently, your crewmates were listening in to your reunion.

- "You fools! Get back to work!" "SORRY, POPS!" And scrambling footsteps were heard and away from the pantry.

- You and your boyfriend shared a hearty laugh, never letting go of each other <3

Emperor Shanks:

- Shanks is a very handsome and charming man, we all know that, right? As an Emperor, the redhead would obviously be popular, especially among the ladies.

- You were angrily cutting up the vegetables, thinking how a certain emperor's good looks was a curse too. To you, at least.

- Let's rewind, shall we?

- After docking to a tropical island, the Red Hair Pirates immediately disembarked to get supplies and swing by the bar. Apparently, you belonged to the first group with Benn and some responsible members while the rest (Shanks included) ran to the nearest bar to get drunk.

- You were helping with the list of supplies when suddenly, Benn went up to you, patting your shoulder.

- "You should go to Shanks and the others. I'll take care of the rest." He smiled at you.

- You thanked him before dashing to the bar where your redhead boyfriend and the others were.

- You were excited, the thought of finally taking a break and drink booze with your boyfriend makes you grin. You pushed the bar's doors open just to frown at the sight before you.

- There sat Shanks drinking booze while a bunch of girls fawn over him, touching him shamelessly.

- Yasopp noticed your form at the doorway, waving you over. "Hey, Y/n! Over here!"

- But you just ignored the sniper, instead you went up to Shanks, pull away the leeches off of him, and smacked him on the face, real hard.

- "Fucking idiot!" You stomped away, leaving everyone in the bar stunned by your actions.

- Shanks, now snapped out of his drunken stupor, went after you, calling your name.

- He finally caught up to you and pins you down in a nearby alleyway.

- "What's wrong with you?" Shanks looked at you while rubbing his reddened cheek, wincing. "Why'd you smack me?"

- Livid, you grabbed his collar, tugging him down to your height. "What's wrong with me? NO! The real question here is: What the fuck is wrong with you, dumbass!" You pushed him away, eyes glaring daggers at him still. "You were letting those bitches latch on you while your girlfriend is busy with work! And now you have the fucking audacity to ask me what's wrong with me?! The fucking nerve!"

- Annoyed, Shanks scoffed at you. "Oh please! I wasn't interested in any of them anyway. I already told them that I already have a girlfriend but they kept on touching me. What am I supposed to do?!"

- You laughed in disbelief before snarling at him, pushing him away. "Well, what do loyal boyfriends do? Exactly, you push away those bitches and never let them touch you! You have a fucking girlfriend, Shanks! You're supposed to not let some hoes latch to you! But you know what? Go back to those girls! I'm sick and tired of this for always happening!"

- Shanks furrowed his brows in confusion, "What do you mean?"

- You clicked your tongue, "I'm breaking up with you, obviously! See you at the ship, Captain." You proceeded to walk away, leaving the redhead dumbfounded.

Now back to the present...

- "Y/n, please talk to me!" Shanks has been pestering you everyday, wanting to talk with you but you didn't let him.

- You rolled your eyes, told Lucky Roo that you'll help him later and then walk away, Shanks trailing after you like a lost puppy.

- The red haired emperor kept on talking about random things, trying to get responses from you but you just ghosted him, doing chores around the ship.

- The crew was sighing, shaking their heads as they watched their usually cheery captain reduced to a kicked puppy wanting attention.

- As your family, they huddled up, planning to get you two back together again.

- And that is why you and Shanks found yourselves on a small secluded island, alone, without the Red Force in sight.

- You were mad at your crew for doing you dirty like that but since Shanks won't give up, you let him talk. And talk he did.

- "First off, I'm sorry. I actually don't like those girls and I don't know why they kept latching on me. Second, I miss you. Your hugs, your warmth, your kisses. I miss all of it."

- Shanks looked like he was regretting all of his life decisions so you talked to him, finally.

- "I forgive you and I miss you too, dummy."

- With those words, you found yourselves hugging on the sand, laughing your hearts out.

Meanwhile at the hidden Red Force....

- Your crew were passing their bets around, Yasopp and his group winning with their bet on who will apologize first, which was Shanks.

- They were whooping and cheering once they made the ship visible to the two of you, their loud voices making you and Shanks looked at them.

- Angered, you went up to the ship, beating the shit out of your stupid crewmates for leaving you and Shanks on the island. But you were still grateful for their stupidasses.

- Shanks never let anyone touch him or you ever again, his right arm constantly latched around your shoulder or hand to show others that you are in a happy relationship together :D

Hello, @gl00ml ! Hope you like this, bestie! Sorry if I got carried away with Shanks, haha! XD

Also, let me know if I did Usopp right, this is the first time I wrote for him after all :P

[hurting-fictional-people]

“Hey, doggy.”

Villain freezes, feet suddenly too heavy to move and heart pounding fast enough to try to flee from their chest by itself.

“Since when do you wear a collar?” Hero laughs above them, legs dangling over the edge of a rooftop.

If they could move, they would. But their body feels stuck to the ground and their stomach flips with both hate and panic, and all Villain manages is to look straight at Hero’s sparkly eyes, facing laughter with darkness as they jump to the floor and land in front of them. 

“Why would that be any of your business?” Villain says, soft as a threat. Low as they were taught.

“Is it a kink or something like that?" Hero smirks. "If you had told me about it, this fight between us could've been so different, sweetheart."

Villain smiles and hopes that the emptiness behind it is hidden enough to pass as sarcasm. “Why don’t you go back to your oh-so brave team and leave me be? Are you this desperate for attention?”

But apart from a snort, Hero dismisses the comment and comes closer. With horror slowly seeping into Villain’s veins, they don’t even think about stepping away before Hero stops toe on toe with them and reaches out to play with the leather surrounding their neck.

They’ve grown used to it, by now. Barely scratches anymore, and only when they remember it’s there do they feel the pressure circling their airways. When that happens, though, it’s hard to keep from falling on the ground clawing at the stiff leather and struggling to breathe.

“It’s pretty,” Hero comments, lifting a brow as they trace the collar’s edge, only the tip of their finger grazing Villain’s skin. It is still enough for their breath to quicken. 

“Leave me alone,” Villain says, hoping their voice doesn’t sound as strangled as it feels.

“Did you always use it underneath your uniform and I never saw it before or is it new?”

“Hero–“

“It isn’t what I expected, but I have to admit it makes you that much more interesting.”

“I can’t–“

“If I tell you to sit, will you obey?”

“Fuck you.”

Hero’s laugh is loud and unrestrained, and it would’ve made Villain angrier if it didn’t make Hero lower their hand as they take a step back and bend over with laughter.

“You are a gem, Villain,” they say in between giggles.

You are my gem, Villain dear. Now take off your shirt and bring me the whip so I can carve you into something beautiful.

Villain’s breath catches, and for a second, there’s no dark alley and laughing Hero. There’s a wide room and a wall of weapons they are way too familiar with.

“What if I tell you to roll?” Hero mocks, leaning against a brick wall with a smile dancing on their lips.

And what if I order you to roll over, dear?

I roll over. I am yours to play with and obey, Supervillain.

Very well. Roll over.

“C’mon, I’m just playing with you,” Hero says, cocking their head. “You don’t have to make that face. You do you, I just think it’s amusing to see the villain who wrecks my town wearing a collar.”

They blink, and the streetlights are dimmer than the one in their memory. Again, and Hero’s grin isn’t as cruel as Supervillain’s. Once more, and they are back in the present.

Did Hero say something?

“Villain?” they call, the grin faltering for just a second as they approach them again, a slight crease between their brows. “You home?”

“I have to go,” Villain sighs. The moon is almost at its peak, and they are almost late. 

“No, I’m having so much fun–“

Villain rolls their eyes, and when they do, something shines in their vision and sends a shiver down their spine. The moon already is at its peak.

“–tell me more about the collar, how long do I have to make up for not noticing it? Because I have a ton of jokes ready–“

They are late they are late they are late. They can’t be late.

They don’t even look at Hero as they bolt forward, as fast as their trembling legs will allow. Supervillain’s breath blows against their ear, whispering threats and promises that aren’t there anymore. For now, at least. 

“Wait!” Hero shouts, running after them. Villain grits their teeth and speeds up, but they are so very tired and not even the rush of adrenaline is enough to beat Hero, who catches up way too fast and grabs them by the jacket.

Villain stops as soon as they feel Hero’s hands on the back of their neck, weakly trying to squirm away from the touch as they gasp for air.

“What is this little box?” Hero muses and Villain’s stomach drops somewhere close to their feet. 

“Hero, stop, I’m late, can you just–“

Hero’s fingers touch the box attached to the collar, and electricity answers. 

Too late.

It explodes into Villain’s body, bolts of lightning forcing them on their hands and knees. The feeling is known, but it doesn’t matter how many times they’ve been shocked, it still feels like the first time. Villain convulses on the sidewalk, sobs falling down their lips and half-formed pleads following, almost inaudible.

“P-p-ple-please,” they pant. “S-s-stop, pl– mmph, I’ll b-be good, ple-ease!”

Once it finally stops, all that echoes inside their mind is the pressing need to please Supervillain, be good, run back home so the shocks won’t start again.

When Hero’s voice sounds, Villain barely understands it.

“Villain,” they whisper, kneeling in front of them, all traces of a smile gone, only an unsaid question written in their weirdly worried eyes.

Villain rolls to their side and pretends not to see it. “P-ple-please. Have t-to get back.”

“Is it Supervillain? The one doing this to you?”

“Please,” Villain murmurs, curling in on themself.

For once, Hero doesn’t try to force them to talk. They simply wrap their arms around Villain's shaky form and lift them carefully, holding them against their chest.

“I’ll get you to your base,” Hero promises, voice so serious Villain looks up with wide eyes, surprised by the anger behind the words. “And then I’ll deal with Supervillain.”

“N-no, p–“ 

Electricity erupts from the collar again, and as a wave of searing, sharp pain travels through their body, all Villain can do is writhe in strong arms that hold them tighter, and muffle their screams against Hero’s neck.

-

(continued here)

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate! Harry: I’ll Make It Up To You - Part 1

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst 

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Part 2 - Part 3

—————————

You was going to kill him. This was the last straw and you had used up every ounce of patience today.

“Harry Edward Styles! Get in here right now or I swear to fucking god you won’t ever breath again!” You shout, your hands clutching the towel wrapped around your body. Your hair styled in a bouncy blow dry with a full face of makeup, a brown smoky eye and a nude lip.

The two of you bicker and argue like enemies, laugh like the best of friends and love each other like a married couple. Although you were only flat mates and nothing had ever gone further than friends, you knew Harry would never see you in that way, however the tiniest part of you had always hoped one day you’d be proven wrong. But you knew all along you’d rather have him as a best friend than lose him all together.

You hear the footsteps round the corner and a grin like the Cheshire Cat plastered on Harrys face “Do you mind? I’m trying to write some music Y/N” he smirks.

“Where the hell are all my clothes?! And where the fuck is my guitar?!” You shout angrily. You were no stranger to practical jokes in this house, both giving and receiving them. But today was different. You had the most important audition of your lifetime, and half of your room had been emptied. 

The laughter escaping Harry’s lips was making you angrier and angrier by the second. “I told you that you’d regret stealing my jumpers!” He smirks.

“That doesn’t mean you take everything I own! Now where to hell is it all?!”

“Ah now you see…this is where it gets fun…you see we’ve made you a little scavenger hunt to find it all. All you have to do is-”

“We?! Who’s we?!” You growl through gritted teeth.

“Ok ok…I can’t take all the credit for this…Niall helped. So…here’s the rules!”

“Harry!” You cut him off “I don’t have time for a fucking scavenger hunt! I have my audition in an hour and I’m already running late! Just get me some fucking clothes and my guitar so I can leave!”

As soon as you had mentioned your audition, the smug grin fell from Harrys face and his rosy cheeks had drained to pale “oh shit. T-that’s today?! I…I thought it was Friday” he frowns “w-well all your stuff is in Niall’s car and he’s in Brighton so I can just get him to drive back asap and…” he fumbles for his phone quickly.

“Brighton?! Harry you have 3 seconds to tell me this is a joke before I rip your pretty little head off! That’s 2 hours away Harry! I’ll never make it in time!”

“Y/N I’m so sorry! I am I really am, I would never have done this today if I knew” Guilt filling his eyes.

“You knew Harry! It’s written on the fridge, on the calendar and you helped me rehearse two days ago!”

“Why don’t I just go and buy you something to wear?” He offers, although he was currently terrified to speak incase his head really did get ripped off. He hadn’t seen you this angry since you pierced holes in three of your ex-boyfriends tyres after finding out he cheated.

“Well that’s pointless because I haven’t got my guitar and you don’t even have your acoustic guitar here. Forget it Harry. Just get out.” You mutter, your head hanging low in disappointment. Even if you left now you’d be late, and that was frowned upon. Turning up anywhere late was bad enough, let alone an audition. If you’re going to turn up late, then there’s no point turning up at all because you wouldn’t even be given a chance. The entertainment business was a difficult place to be, and this was your one chance to really make something bigger for yourself and it was ruined.

“Y/N I…”

“I said get out!” You scream, releasing the built up fury “go and join Niall in Brighton for all I fucking care. Leave me alone. I’m so disappointed Harry” you felt the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

The sight of you on the verge of tears was enough to break his heart. He wanted to protest, he wanted to make it all better. But he knew you too well. He knew if he didn’t leave you alone to calm down then it would make everything worse than it already was. He had never felt so guilty. In the 4 years you had lived together, practical jokes never made either of you angry. Sure they were embarrassing at times, but you two always had the best of times. At what made it even worse this time was that he had made you cry…and you’d used the ‘D’ word on him!

Harry had left, shutting the front door quietly as he headed to the studio to get out of your hair for a few hours. Also calling Niall in the process to get him to get the fuck home asap. It may have seemed like a pretty extreme joke, but they didn’t intend it to turn out this way. The plan was that the scavenger hunt would lead you to Brighton with Harry to meet Niall there, and the three of you would spend the day and night by the beach, shopping, drinking, eating...everything that you loved to do.

As hours passed, you found yourself tucked under the mountain of blankets on the sofa, wearing a pair of Harry’s boxers, joggers and a white hoodie. Which you purposely chose because your makeup rubbed off on the collar and the sleeves as you wiped your tears. 

You felt deflated and disappointed. You should have been more prepared...no actually, Harry shouldn’t of been a dick. You knew he didn’t mean to jeopardize your audition, but these auditions didn’t come along often and part of you just wasn’t ready to let this go yet.

Harry crept in quietly, although you didn’t hear him, or at least you didn’t want to. “ Hey...Y/N” he whispers softly, walking through the living room door cautiously.

“Hm?” you mutter, not allowing yourself to speak a word to him, and especially making sure your eyes were glued to Netflix, not giving him the satisfaction of paying attention.

“I...I got you these” He whispers, placing a big bouquet of red roses and white lilies on the glass coffee table in front of you. You looked straight passed them “Oh wow...maybe I should send these over to the directors and producers to say sorry and maybe they can make an exception for little Y/N to try again!” you state sarcastically, but your facial expression staying as blank as possible.

He sighs softly and perches himself on the arm of the sofa, he gently pulls your shoulders back for you to rest your back against his thigh. “I know it doesn’t change what I did Y/N, and believe me if I could of changed anything I would, and if I could turn back time, I’d do anything”

“You really fucked up Harry” you whisper, your voice cracking gently as you wiped your tears on the sleeve of his hoodie. “You don’t get it. You’re Harry Styles and you get everything handed to you on a plate because everyone already knows who you are! You’ve done what like...three auditions in your life and you’ve succeeded every single one. It’s not like that for me. I spent hours and hours practicing. And weeks just writing these songs in hope they get heard one day and now they won’t because word spreads really quick in this industry.” You still couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because you hated people seeing you cry. 

He sighed softly, staying silent as he pulled you up gently and sitting himself underneath you as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. He was always the first to help you rehearse when you had an audition, the first to comfort you if it went wrong or you didn’t succeed, and the first to celebrate and congratulate you when you did get it. Unfortunately, this time no one will ever know how it would have gone. He knew he couldn’t say much else because he knew you were right.  

You wanted to resist, but instead you buried your face into his chest and whimpered softly. As disappointed as you were, you knew Harry was truly sorry and he’d hang onto this guilt for a while. He held you close as his gentle fingers raked through your hair.

“I’ve put everything back in your room, all folded and neat” He whispers “I’ll make it up to you. I promise” He kept his arms around you supportively, although his chest was heavy with guilt, he already had a plan conjuring in his mind. 

—————————

[moonknightly]

now all you see is red : santiago garcia x reader

Word Count: 3.6k+

Excerpt: “There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.”

Warnings: Smut (18+), choking, spanking, light bondage, dom/sub dynamic, light degradation/humiliation, rough sex, angry sex, dirty talk

Santiago is familiar with anger.

He knows it well, he’s used to the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth, the smoke he can never fully push from his lungs, the way flames lick at his fingertips as his blood boils in his veins. He’s used to the sharp bite and unrelenting sting, he knows the exact sound his fist is going to make when it meets drywall, can hear each bone crack on impact and can feel the sensation of his knuckles splitting open, can visualize the black and blue bruises that will mark his skin for weeks to come.

They might as well be permanent, he never feels like himself without those damn bruises anymore. They’ve become an integral part of him, just like the scar on the back of his neck and the weight he carries on his shoulders day in and day out.

Just like his anger.

He needs it, he doesn’t remember how to get through without it. Anger isn’t a stranger to the ex soldier, but a lover.

It’s a dance so intimate, one he’s performed thousands and thousands of times before. It keeps him grounded, reminds him that he’s real, that he’s here. He’s alive and he’s breathing, he’s not lying at the bottom of a ditch in a foreign country with a bullet in his side, rotting. He made it out, he’s earned his temper.

He’s in control. He has the power, and nothing is going to hurt him again. He won’t let it.

Except, that’s not entirely true.

There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.

And you have, you so have. You’ve fucking wrecked him, but he refuses to let you see it, he doesn’t even fully understand it himself. In all of the years you’ve known each other, Santi’s been able to keep that little secret to himself, and he’s not about to give it up now, he doesn’t need that shit.

What he needs is the control back in the palm of his hand after losing it for the last week. He needs to feel some sense of power after spending seven days in unfamiliar territory, feeling utterly torn apart by grief and worry.

They’d lost contact with you on your last assignment, and an entire week had gone by without so much as a word until you suddenly showed up at base, seemingly fine. Santi hadn’t been able to find even a scratch on your perfect skin, and he’d checked several times just to be sure. You’re fine.

But Santi isn’t. Fuck, he is so fucking far from fine, he feels like he’s going to be sick. His initial relief is fading fast, threatening to turn into something that he has no desire to feel, something he doesn’t know how to handle. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t need it.

He needs his control, his power. He needs familiarity.

So he latches onto the subtlest spark of anger the moment it strikes. He takes it and he fucking runs.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

His voice is eerily calm, almost chilling and it doesn’t waiver for even a second. It’s collected while the rest of him isn’t, but it’s enough to get him through. It’ll do.

“What do you mean?”

You’re sitting at the end of the bed, unlacing your boots, desperate to get out of them and into something comfortable. Santi keeps his eyes glued to you, tracking your every movement with expert precision that he’s spent his entire life mastering.

“A week. You went a fucking week without report.”

You seem almost annoyed, and really, you are — you’d spent the last hour getting the same lecture from your boss, you don’t need it from your boyfriend too even though it’s inevitable, so you shrug in response, and Santiago feels another white hot flash.

It’s perfect. He’ll take it.

“It would’ve compromised the mission, he was onto me. I’m fine.”

You’re fine. He laughs bitterly at that.

“I’m glad you’re fine, princesa,” he hums, not thinking about how he enunciates his words as he stalks towards you, painstakingly slow, brown eyes never straying from his target.

He’s quick, his reflexes sharp, and he has your chin between his fingers before you even register his hand moving.

“But that’s not a fucking excuse. You know your safety comes before anything else and we had no way to help you.”

“But I was safe.”

“But how were we supposed to know that, huh?” He shakes your head in his grip, like it’s enough to get you to see his way. “You could’ve been dead for all we knew. Do you have any idea what-”

He stops himself. That unfamiliar emotion is bubbling in the pit of his stomach again, and he pushes it away, down, down, down where it can’t touch him, can’t hurt him.

He needs another spark.

But now, he’s struggling to find it, and it’s clear. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch him wrestle with himself and hesitate, and he panics when your lips part because he knows you’re getting ready to ask him if he’s okay and he doesn’t fucking want you to. He doesn’t want to answer you.

So he just growls again, his hand moving to the back of your neck where he pushes your head forward until your lips meet his in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.

It’s all teeth and desperation and frustration and just like your annoyance, it’s perfect. Santi clings to that frustration to fuel his anger again, and he’s satisfied when it works and he feels the familiar tendrils of rage wrap themselves around his body. His free hand moves to your shirt, and he uses his grip to haul you to your feet only to shove you towards the dresser. You catch yourself, knocking a few things off in the process but you don’t care. You love it when he gets like this.

“Santi-”

“No.” He’s behind you again, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back so your neck is perfectly exposed to him, breath hot against your skin. “Don’t you dare say a fuckin’ word, understand?”

You nod obediently — you’ve always taken orders as well as he gives him.

“Good girl.”

He nips at your neck once, twice, three times before he sinks his teeth in, biting down, marking you and he smirks when he feels your knees buckle just slightly. You’re struggling to hold yourself up already and he’s hardly touched you.

His hand travels around to the front of your neck and he wraps his fingers around your throat, not applying any pressure, simply just holding them there. He feels your pulse thrum under his fingertips and he counts along for a moment, smirking at just how quick your heart is beating.

“Nervous baby?”

You hesitate, and he feels you gulp, feels the way you shift just slightly under his touch.

“No.”

He tsks, sighing in your ear almost disapprovingly. He lets his grip tighten around your throat, and he revels in the sound of you trying to pull in air before he cuts you off completely.

“Maybe you should be.”

His free hand slams between your shoulder blades and you’re suddenly flat against the dresser, the force of it knocking what little air you had left in your lungs out. He gives you a second, just a second to use your safeword or to tell him to go a little easy, but you don’t.

He knows you’ll tell him if he needs to take it down a notch.

There’s nothing slow or patient about Santiago’s touch. It’s urgent, each movement made with purpose, never lingering, he doesn’t have time for that. He just wants to feel you, just wants to feel that anger and the pleasure and nothing else.

He pulls your jeans down your thighs, not bothering to get them all the way off or worry about your shirt. His eyes are immediately on your ass, and he growls when he sees that you’re wearing his favorite color — red. He loves you in red.

Not enough to save the panties for another day though. He rips them clean off your body, the stretching, tearing sound of fabric making him groan alongside your gasp.

“Open your mouth.”

You don’t hear him the first time, too absorbed in the feeling running through you. He smacks your ass, hard, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. The moan that leaves your lips might just be the most sinful sound Santi has ever heard.

“Open your fucking mouth.”

This time, you hear him, and you obey just like he knew you would, opening your mouth for him to stuff your panties into.

“Fuck I can smell you on them from here princesa.”

He loves it. He loves it so fucking much. He smacks your ass a second time, feeling it turn hot under his touch, then he does it again and again and again until he’s satisfied with the way you flinch, until you’re laying limp against the dresser with tears running down your cheeks.

“Color?”

Like he said before, your safety means more to him than anything else, and through his anger he still always checks in to make sure you’re okay to continue. He never wants it to get to a point where he actually hurts you, even though he knows what your body can take, even though he knows you’d let him, you’d even ask him to.

You can’t speak with your panties in your mouth, but one finger means green, two means yellow, and three means red. You hold up one, and he lands one final blow just to see if your answer changes. You still only hold up one.

“Good girl.”

He grabs your wrists and drags you back towards the mattress, and you immediately fall face down ass up just how you know he likes, but now he hesitates.

His knees are bothering him today, more so than usual, and he doesn’t know if he can kneel behind you long enough to fuck you how he wants to.

That only makes him angrier, feeling like he can’t perform. Feeling like he’s not good enough, like he’s failing in a field where he’s always personally felt like he’s excelled.

All he sees is red and you and it’s the exact distraction he’s been looking for, the perfect combination. His blood burns, his fingers burn, his mind is fucking screaming your name and nothing else. There’s nothing but you and the rage boiling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s intoxicating, it’s everything, it’s familiar.

“No, no no,” he laughs, shaking his head as he undoes his belt, hastily pulling it through the loops of his jeans. “On your side, hands behind your back.”

He’s on you the second you're in position, tightening his belt around your wrists so you can’t move them, can’t touch him. He chuckles darkly when your fingers wiggle around in search of something to hold onto.

“Poor baby,” he hums, voice completely condescending and he loves the way your eyes roll at the tone of his voice. He loves that you get off on this just as much as he does, he loves that you dance with his temper, that you know it almost as well.

He’s so fucking hard. He can’t wait any longer.

He doesn’t check with his fingers to make sure you’re wet enough to take him, he knows you are. He can smell you, he can see your juices glisten when he hoists your leg up to reveal your pussy to him. You’re always so wet, always so ready for him.

And he’s more than ready for you, stroking himself in the palm of his hand while he looks you over with hungry, dark eyes. His hand is nothing compared to the warmth and pleasure he knows you’ll bring him, there’s not a damn thing in this world that can make him come as hard as you.

He lays behind you, continuing to pump his length as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, nudging at your clit and smearing his precome all around. He can feel you clench, can feel you try to pull him in as you start rocking your hips against him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re acting like a fuckin’ whore for my cock babygirl. You need it, huh? You need me?”

You immediately start trying to beg through your makeshift gag and normally, that would only earn you more teasing but just like you, he can’t take it. He needs you just as much, if not more.

His nails dig into your left hip as he pushes himself against your entrance, leaving little crescent shaped indents in your skin, his grip so tight you both know it’ll bruise but it’s more than fine, it’s so good. He stops, wanting to drag it out for just a moment longer and your begging only continues, growing louder and louder until Santiago finally gives in.

All it takes is one sharp thrust and he’s so deep inside of you, spreading you open on his cock, tearing your walls apart to make room for his length, your bodies flush against each other. His free arm is wrapped underneath your body, his hand finding your neck again as he quickly sets his pace, not giving you more than a single second to even attempt to adjust to him.

It’s hard, it’s fast, it’s dirty and your cunt is squelching around him so deliciously, the sound only pushing him further — he doesn’t know if he wants to slow down so he can listen to it properly or if he wants to go faster.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your ear, his voice gravely and rough and he thrills in the way it makes you shiver. “Fuck you’re so tight, you’re squeezing my fucking dick baby. How’re you this tight?”

You only let out a moan that’s somewhere between a sob and a scream, and that sound alone is so entirely hot in itself, it’s enough to make his toes curl. He wants to pull that noise from you again and again and again, he wants you shaking and gasping and writhing. He starts using your hips for more leverage, knowing that he can get you to cry and whine for him this way.

You squirm and jolt each time he brings you back onto his cock, every time he hits that spot you didn’t believe existed until he fucked you for the first time and he wants to explode as he watches you struggle to take it.

He knows you’ll hold up your fingers if you need him to stop, but he still pulls your panties out of your mouth just so he can hear it, just so can listen for your words. You never say them, you only scream and cry and moan about how good it feels, how he’s pounding your pussy better than anyone ever has and how you never want him to stop.

“Yeah baby?” he purrs, nipping at your earlobe, tugging on it as he thrusts harder and harder. “This my pussy princesa? Tell me.”

“It’s yours,” you sob, clenching around him over and over. “God Santi, it’s yours, I’m yours.”

“That’s fuckin’ right baby, that’s it.”

He tightens his grip around your neck, his left hand moving from your hip to your clit, fingers matching the pace of his thrusts. He’s rubbing you so hard, he’s almost surprised when you angle yourself closer, but that’s his girl. That’s his fucking girl.

Santi can tell you’re close when your sounds grow higher in pitch and when he no longer needs to drag you back into his thrusts — you’re doing all the work for him, moving on your own accord, searching for that last little push you need to get over the edge and he lets you.

He lets you control the pace, lets you take what you need and that’s when that unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling enters his stomach again. He tries to ignore it, tries to push it away, tries to tap back into the anger but once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Now he’s just frustrated, but he doesn’t let himself get distracted, not when you’re on his cock, bringing yourself closer and closer to an orgasm he doesn’t want to miss a second of.

He rolls onto his back suddenly, catching you off guard but he steadies you on top of him and uses your bound wrists to continue rocking you on his length while you get adjusted again. He brings his free hand back to your clit, just like before and it’s not long before you’re right on the brink of coming again. Santi’s right there with you, watching you roll your hips and bounce on his cock, impaling yourself on him again and again. You’re so full of him, he only wants to fill you more.

He thinks he might actually let go first, but then you’re falling apart on top of him in a matter of seconds, sobbing his name so loudly while your thighs quiver and your body trembles. That’s what finally does it for him, and he comes inside of you with a deep groan that echoes in his chest, his back arching completely off the bed in an attempt to get even closer to you. He quickly grabs your hips again so he can continue to piston himself up into you, watching your combined release leak out of your pussy and coat his cock in glistening white. He only moans, quieter this time, and fucks it back into you, his pace slowing as his cock twitches over and over and quickly becomes oversensitive.

He doesn’t forget to undo your hands before he pulls you back onto his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face into your neck. He’s working hard to catch his breath, and he hopes that that’s all you think he’s doing when really, he’s having to put twice as much effort into not falling apart.

His chest is heaving with emotion, his eyes are filling with tears that he refuses to let spill over. His anger is completely gone and only this remains. He doesn’t know how to control it, doesn’t know what to do with it and he hates it. He hates it so much.

And you notice, of course you fucking notice. He’s slow to launch into aftercare and it’s obvious that he’s distracted through it, something heavy weighing on his mind.

“Santi, what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t fucking call.”

His voice waivers and cracks and his cheeks immediately turn red, though he’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or this feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“What if something happened to you? You didn’t call.”

“Santi,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, and he’s frustrated all over again. Usually he’s so good at reading you, he knows you like the back of his hand, but again he’s unsure about the emotion. He doesn’t know if you’re exasperated or if you’re concerned. He doesn’t wait to find out.

“You have any idea what was going through my head,” he bites, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

He doesn’t see the expression on your face, doesn’t see how his words hit you right in the chest and shatter your heart. He misses the way you swallow the lump in your throat and he doesn’t see your hands start to shake, but he feels them when they cup his cheeks. His shoulders slump at the contact, and then Santi just breaks.

“You didn’t fucking call, why didn’t you fucking call?”

He chokes on a sob, coughing to try and rid himself of it but it doesn’t work. He hides his face into his hands, shoulders shaking as he softly cries and he’s just happy that he’s able to keep himself quiet.

“Oh sweet boy, come here.”

Santi let’s you pull him into your arms, he lets you comfort him in a way he didn’t know he needed, in a way he never even imagined wanting.

And he lets himself feel all of that unwanted emotion, because he needs to get it the fuck out. He doesn’t want to hold onto it like he does with his anger, he doesn’t want it dancing in his veins. He never, ever wants to feel this way again.

Santiago is familiar with anger.

But he’s completely unfamiliar with the fear of losing you. He’s not used to the nausea or the way his hands shake with panic, the way his chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. He’s not used to any of it, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.

But at some point in the middle of the night, he looks up and he sees you, still holding him, still comforting him, and it suddenly hits. Suddenly, he understands.

It’s you.

This is how you’ve ruined him.

You’ve made him feel things he’s been pushing away for so long, things he’s tried so desperately to keep under lock and key where it can never hurt him.

You’ve stripped him of his control, his power. You’ve taken away his anger and you’ve replaced the throbbing bruises on his knuckles, the smoke in his lungs and the blood that paints his vision.

He doesn’t see red, he only sees you.

Santiago is familiar with you.