#they Don't get along and they DO fight and they Are completely insufferable to each other

[floralovebot]

to me, the fab five are a found family in an intentionally forced way. and i don't mean forced by the writers, i mean the characters themselves forced that relationship dynamic upon the group.

at first, they really were just some kids hanging out and occasionally fighting criminals together. they didn't consider each other family or even best friends. and even as they got older, they continued to think of each other in a very Just Some Friends kind of way. sure they got closer, but they weren't family by any means.

however, this dynamic changed drastically when they became adults because they were all neck deep in mental illnesses, people around them dying, and desperately wanting to live normal lives. a lot of other titans groups become found families early on in their teen/kid era, and it's easy to assume that the same is true for the fab five considering they're quintessential kid hero trope, but that's not the case for them. they only started to consider each other Family as adults and that was specifically because everything else in their life was falling apart and they latched onto their only lasting consistent.

i'm not saying that the fab five were naive in thinking that the others would always be around, but i am saying that for a very long time, they were always around. they were absolutely scared that someone would die, but they also knew they could actually count on each other in a way that they often couldn't count on their actual families. this is taken to an extreme when dick cuts contact with bruce, when ollie dies, when arthur betrays garth, etcetc. everything was falling apart, so they latched onto the last bit of their childhood innocence and accidentally started seeing each other as family.

they don't know each other but they do understand each other more than anyone else in the world. they're mean and petty and they would die for each other. they're unsympathetic and they would fistfight the others' mentors in a parking lot. they aren't family and they're the only family they have left.

the fab five specifically became a found family in response to their own families being at best, very hard to deal with, and worst, absolute dogshit. they forced that dynamic because for a while, they couldn't rely on anyone else. dick couldn't rely on bruce after their falling out, but he could rely on donna and wally, even if they didn't completely understand what was going on. donna will always be able to call upon the fab five - they will never, ever leave her, even when they're going through whatever relationship drama dc wants to write about. roy knows that no matter what he does or what they say to him, they'll always be there in the end.

they forced the found family dynamic!!! that's why it feels different and more complicated than other titan groups!!!!! they didn't naturally become a family, they forced it on the group because their actual families were falling apart and dying!!!!!

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better (M)

★  PAIRING: Academic rival!Haechan x afab/fem!reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 4.8k

★ GENRE(S): Smut, E2lover, Rival2lovers

☆ SUMMARY: Haechan and you have never gotten along, and your friend group is sick of it, so they make a bet that the two of you can't ignore. When put to the test, will your hatred for each other still stand?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: 18+, minors do not interact, Meandom! Haechan, aphrodisiac drug, mentions of drinking, sexual bet, sexual intercourse, swearing, unprotected sex, creampie, Haechan being mean, lowkey forgot what I wrote, so just BEWARE.

☆★ NOTES: Yuh! This idea has been stuck in my head for a while. Another saga of me failing the Don't write another hate2love challenge! FYI, I'm not a writer; I'm just a person who writes occasionally. Lovers in e2l not found more of a fuck buddy type relationship. Anyway I just wanted to say thanks for the support on my other fics. I don't usually write that often but the good feedback encourages me.

At this point, your friends were getting tired of it. You two were constantly at each other's throats. They initially believed you could'nt stand one another, but recently, the atmosphere in the room after your shouting matches was too intense to be fueled solely by animosity. The flames behind your eyes burned too brightly for them to be caused by resentment alone. They used to hold you back from lunging at him, but now they wondered what would really happen if you got your hands on him.

Haechan and you had known each other since middle school. You two shared a lot of the same classes, and unfortunately, you both had parents who expected you to excel in school. You were always trying to one-up each other or stamp out the other's resolve. Your relationship was rocky from the start, and even if you two weren't fighting for the top spot, you doubt you would find him likable.

Haechan was a natural at everything. He didn't have to try very hard to be the best; he just got it. On the other hand, despite spending hours studying, you could just barely match his performance. You were jealous of how easy he made it look. The fact that he would flaunt his success in your face didn't help.

“Can't keep up?” He would say after outperforming you on the final exam by 10 points, he had that same smirk that seemed permanently etched onto his face on full display. You had spent days preparing for the test, even skipping a few hours of sleep. Haechan never studied; the most he ever did to prepare for an exam was to quickly skim the material a few hours before the test. Even then, he would still ace it.

You expected to grow up and put the rivalry behind yourselves during high school, but he would jump at any chance to make you look like an idiot. You could say the sky was blue, and he would argue that it was actually the reflection of the ocean that gave the sky the illusion of being blue. Back in middle school, you limited all interactions with him for your own sanity. However, in high school, he somehow managed to join your friend group, so you were forced to endure him during hangouts. You eventually got used to his presence and the non-stop teasing. It wasn't until you received your acceptance letter to the college you would be attending with your friends that you thought you would finally be free from him. Haechan's parents had wanted him to go to a college that was 4 hours away from your hometown, and you counted down the days until graduation.

Luck was never on your side.

Due to Haecahan's tendency to put things off, he wasn't able to submit his application in time, and as the school was very competitive, the available spots quickly filled up. Luckily for him, your college had an extended application process, which allowed him to send it in late, and he was accepted. Now here you are two years into college, and Haechan is still insufferable.

You two were on two completely different career tracks, so your classes never overlapped, so at least you stopped fighting about grades. Being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore, anyway. You hated the pressure that your parents put on you growing up. Before, you would have had a heart attack if you saw a B, but now you just shrug them off. Even still, all you two do is just have petty arguments because that's all you have ever done.

“You would not be able to see an explosion in space; it's a vacuum; fire can't exist.”

"Well, I've seen Star Wars, so I think that proves my point.”

“That's Fiction! You know, like the idea of you having a brain,” you roll your eyes.

“Almost like your sense of humor? I was joking. Of course I know that I took astronomy before you," he smirks.

He was constantly trying to get under your skin. You take a long breath and try to calm yourself down. "Well, yeah, because I took a different science asshole." Your friends say it's because you always give him a reaction, but you hate being wrong. You had to get the last word, especially against know-it-alls like him.

Despite your complaints, he isn't entirely horrible. On the days that you two aren't arguing, he's making you laugh so hard that you practically fall over. He's not a complete jerk all the time; it's just that once you two get started, it's hard to stop.

“Oh please, can you two cut it out? You have either had too much alcohol or not enough if you can still think about arguing,” your friend Johnny slurs.

It's Saturday night, and you have just finished off an exhausting exam week. Your friends felt a celebration was in order to wind down from the trying week. Now the only thing trying was Haechan testing your patience. You're at Johnny's house, and everyone is spread out around his spacious living room, bottles of alcohol scattered several surfaces. Johnny’s family was well off, and he lived off campus in one of the few estates that his family owned. The house had two stories and a pool in the backyard. On the weekends, you would spend the most of your time here.

“You're right I came here to relax, not burst a blood vessel.” You sigh and take a seat next to Johnny on the couch. You take a couple sips from whichever unopened can of cheap alcohol is nearby. Even though you could already sense a buzz coming on, it needed to hit harder if you were going to have to deal with Haechan all night.

Hyuck chuckled and found a spot on the carpeted floor. "Sorry, the princess just seemed like her day was going too well; I had to ruin it a little," he said.

Your friend Yuna raised an eyebrow in his direction and smirked as she took another sip of her drink. “For you to hate her so much, you sure do spend a lot of time thinking about her.”

“One point Yuna, '' you smile at your friend's rebuttal. Arguing with Haechan could be tiring, but your roommate always had your back.

“I think you two just need to hug it out... in a room... alone,” your other friend Mark joked.

You dryly laugh, "So funny."

“You scared?” Hyuck says with a wicked grin. He leans back on one arm as he sips on his drink, still eyeing you confidently. It's at times like these that you betray yourself the most. He looks so good with his light brown hair framing his face; it's grown so long now that it covers his eyes if he doesn't push it back. The alcohol must be hitting because now all you can imagine is pulling on the soft brown locks and not out of anger. You must have taken too long to reply, because now he's raising an eyebrow at you.

“I wouldn't want to be alone with you even if you were the last person on earth."

Johnny cuts off Haechan's response before he can start. "Want to test that theory?"

Questions run through everyone's mind as you all turn to look at Johnny after his outburst.

“What, are you gonna kill us or something?” Haechan responds wearily.

"No, but I should, with the headache you have given me.”

“So…?” You urge him to continue.

"You two keep saying how much you can't stand each other, so how about we put that to the test?" Johnny closes with a sinister grin.

“I feel like you're gonna say something really stupid next." Mark comments

Johnny ushers your other friends into a huddle and tries his best to whisper in his drunken state.

"Guys, just hear me out? We can all feel the tension between these two. They clearly need to fuck or something, so how about we help them along so we don't have to deal with them trying to tear each other apart?”

“How would we do that?”

“We can hear you, and I am NOT fucking him."

“Oh come on, we see the way you two look at each other; you're both just too stubborn to realize it.”

"Hyuck, don't just sit there; help me out here!" you plead

“They have a point, though; you do want to fuck me,” he confidently adds.

"Please, you would be lucky enough if I poked you with a stick,” you say in distaste.

“Order! Order!” Johnny slurs, "Look, I have a way for you both to prove yourselves,” using his beer can as a makeshift gavel.

“Yeah, where were you even going with all of this? Man get to the point,” Mark mutters as he gets comfortable on the sofa.

“"What if you two take an aphrodisiac together and try not to touch each other? If you can last, then you two will win and show everyone how much you despise one another."

The room is silent when Johnny finishes pitching his idea. You think he definitely had one too many drinks tonight. What kind of plan was this? There was no way in hell you would go along with ANY of Johnny's half-baked ideas, but this one was especially crazy. You were just about to shoot down the idea when another voice interrupted you.

“I'm down. What? You can't stand the idea of keeping your hands off me?” Haechan grumbles upon seeing your reaction.

“what? I was just thinking this is stupid. What do I even get out of this? I don't care what you people think,” you huff.

“How about I give you each $500 if you win?”

“Do you-” you start.

“AND Mark does your homework for 2 weeks.”

“Hey! I didn't-” mark says

“AND Yuna does your share of the chores at your dorm.”

“WHA-!” yuna argues

"Deal," you quickly say before anyone can finish their complaints.

"Dude, this is not what we discussed,” Mark complains. Johnny whispers to him about something, and he perks up a little as Johnny makes him a promise. "Fine"

Johnny lays down the rules for you two. You and Haechan will both take an aphrodisiac pill and be restricted to the upstairs bedroom. You’ll have to stay in the room with each other for 3 hours, and if you two can withstand the 3 hours without touching each other, you win. If you lose, you both have agreed to play nice with each other or at least around other people.

As soon as you both take the pink pill, Johnny starts the timer. You make your way up the stairs to the bedroom, where you often crash on the weekends. This was definitely not how you thought you would be spending the weekend.

“We’ll come knocking when the time’s up! Yuna yells from downstairs.

You pout playfully and mock her from over the railing of the stairs. She was supposed to be the reasonable one.

“Oh real mature,” Haechan chuckles as he shuffles past you up the stairs. The staircase was really narrow, and you could practically feel his body heat against you as he went. The pills' effects haven't even fully settled in yet, and you're already feeling things you shouldn't. If you were planning on winning, you would have to get it together. Maybe this wasn't as easy as you thought.

As you make your way up the remaining stairs, you see Haechan standing by the door frame, waiting for you. He rolls his eyes. "You're stalling."

You murmur under your breath, "I'll literally give you my half of the money if you shut up for the next three hours," but drag yourself into the room nevertheless.

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The first 20 minutes aren't terrible. You guys make yourselves comfortable on opposite sides of the room and pick a random wall to stare at. As Haechan makes himself comfortable on the room's lone bed, you take a seat on a little bench that lines a sizable window. You're grateful he keeps his mouth shut. This was probably the longest you two have been in each other's presence without speaking.

It wasn't until about 30 minutes in that the effect hit you. Your breathing grew labored, and your blood started to flow through your veins more quickly. Your body started to heat up. To cool down, you placed your face on the window, breathing fogging the glass. When you looked up to see how Haechan was fairing, he was already looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes as his chest expanded with each deep inhale.

As much as he got on your last nerve, you had always thought he was attractive. His tan honey skin that glowed in the sunlight, his pretty moles that you would kill to kiss, and his gorgeous eyes that always made your heart beat just a little harder when he would glare at you whenever you hit a nerve. You loved seeing him worked up, but the few moments you got to see him when he was happy were moments you stored deep in the vault of your heart. You hated him; there was no time for admiring him.

You tried to shove those thoughts away, but It was as though all the thoughts you had been working so hard to suppress had suddenly surfaced. All you could think about was his plump lips and how they would feel on your body. How his fingers would feel encircling your throat, pressing the chilly rings that decorated his hands against your skin. His golden locks flowing through your fingers as you hold him close. You couldn't resist licking your lips at the idea.

“Don't fucking do that,” he abruptly spoke. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. He spreads his legs further, trying to get comfortable in his spot across the room.

You try to fight the urge, but your eyes travel down his body to the bulge in his sweats. You immediately cross your legs at the sight. You had to clutch onto the pillows of the seat you were in; otherwise, you don't think you could stop yourself from crossing the room in a heartbeat.

“What? Can't handle it hyuckie?” You coo at him, using the old nickname you haven't called him since middle school. You had to find some ground in this setting. You couldn't let him see how weak he was making you.

"Out of all the times you pick to be a brat, now is not the time," he grumbles mockingly.

“Why? Am I getting on your nerves? Hmm, I could only wonder what that must feel like,” you sneered. You were so horny, it's pissing you off. You decide Haechan can use a taste of his own medicine, and what better way to blow off steam than to get under his skin?

“Maybe they were right. Maybe you do need a good fuck for you to lose the attitude.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

"Careful," he smirks, licking his lips.

You know that look; he's testing you. He's daring you to say something else.

"That's what I thought," he says, closing his eyes and attempting to control his breathing.

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You're about an hour in, and you can't take it any longer; you're practically rutting against the seam of your jeans, hoping for some kind of friction.

"Please, I can't do this anymore," you cry out for air. You turn to face him, but he doesn't answer. His eyes are closed, and his brows are drawn together as if he's in pain.

“Haechan!” You scream again; this time he slowly opens his eyes, and you suck in a breath as your eyes meet. His pupils were completely blown as sweat pricked his brow.

“Are you giving up?"

You nod in response.

“That's too bad; I still want to win,” he smirks lazily.

"Let's just forfeit; this is stupid!” You stand from where you were seated and head to the door. This prompts Haechan to finally move from his spot as he uses his long legs to cross the room in three wide strides. Before you can open the door, he stops you. For the first time since you two entered the room, he touches you. While keeping his body an arms' length away from you, he is shoving you up against the door by your shoulders. Your body is on fire at the mere touch, and you're grateful for the little bit of space he has given you.

“Calm down. Think this through,” he huffs as if out of breath. “just-just think of the money.”

“I don't care about this stupid bet! I feel like I'm going to explode,” you cry, fighting to escape his hold, but he just pins you back against the door.

“How about I take care of it then? Hmm?” He begs, never breaking eye contact. “I'll take the pain away, baby. Just work with me, yeah?"

"That defeats the point Haechan; we aren't supposed to touch each other; I thought you were smarter than that," you protest, growing increasingly frustrated.

“As long as you keep those gorgeous lips shut, nobody would ever know.” He slowly closes in on you as he speaks. “I help you out, and when we get out of this room, we pretend like nothing happened, and that we still can't stand each other, deal?” He's a breath away. The close proximity, the way he's practically breathing down your neck, and the look in his eyes that tells you he is only about 2 seconds away from devouring you were all you needed to go along with Haechan's scheme.

You stopped listening about halfway through anyway so you nodded mindlessly before closing the remaining space between the two of you. You're pushing off the door and pressing your body against his as you guide him towards the bed. Even though you can both feel your lungs starting to burn, neither of you has the strength to break the kiss. When his legs met the edge of the bed, he sat, giving you both time to regain your breath. He's resting back against his hands, looking up at you, and his legs are spread wide as if he were offering himself to you.

"Come on princess, take whatever you want from me," he smirks as you get into his lap and nestle down against the tent in his pants. You push him until his back is flush against the mattress, then mindlessly grind down on him. You use his chest to steady yourself as you throw your head back and drown in the feeling. You feel Haechan's hands gripping your waist and then traveling up your torso. His hands explored your body as you got lost in each other. Haechan sits up to meet your lips in another passionate kiss. As he deepens the kiss, he clutches your waist tightly to restrict your movements. You whine at the lack of stimulation, but all he can do is smile against your lips in return.

“Be patient baby; let me love on you.”

“This…was…not…a part of…the deal,” you try to finish as he lovingly pecks your lips.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your voice down? Shut up,” he says, ignoring your insistent whining, lavishing your face and neck in wet kisses. Any “loving” he was going to give vanished at your bratty behavior.

“Stop teasing, hyuck seriously. I think I'm going insane.”

You were on the verge of tears at this point; you needed him to give you some type of relief. That's exactly how he wanted you—desperate and needy—not like you already weren't, but he liked to push you to your limits.

“Lay down for me,” he says, releasing his grip on your hips and patting your thigh to signal you to get up. You swiftly move to lay on the bed, and you watch him as he pulls his shirt over his head and takes off his sweatpants, leaving him only in his underwear. He climbs the bed and helps you remove your jeans. As he's tugging the material down your thick thighs, you remove your shirt and bra. He settles between your legs, and you reflexively wrap your legs around his waist. He has to press his palm down against your lower stomach to stop you from grinding against him again.

"You promise to behave?" He prys your legs free from his waist, trapping them against your chest and restricting your movement.

You nod mindlessly, reaching out to grab him and trying to draw him into another kiss, but he pins your hands above your head, using his hips instead to further pin you down.

"Uh-uh princess, use your words," he adds coldly.

“Please hyuck, I promise I'll be good.”

“You going to be a good girl and keep that mouth shut?”

You were exhausted from having to use your brain to come up with a coherent response; you were at your limit. All you could think about was him filling you up, and every second he didn't, it felt like a year of your life span was shaved off. You did cry this time. You were so frustrated with him; he did this all the time. He never plays nice; he always makes you work for it.

"Oh you poor baby," he coos lovingly as he kisses your eyelids and wipes away your tears. "I'm sorry, but I have to hear you say it," he continues.

"I promise to be your good girl; I swear I won't make a sound, please," you sniffle, trying to hold back your tears.

“If I hear one sound, I'm stopping, and you can walk out of this room and finish yourself off, got it?”

You've learned to respond quickly when he asks you a question, so you nod your head with a "yes sir."

This makes Haechan smile wickedly. Who would have guessed that the same brat who walked into the room with him no less than an hour ago could be so obedient? He was definitely never letting you live this down when this was over. He finally decides to take pity on you, kisses down your body, and removes your panties. He threw your legs over his shoulders, and a quick kiss to your inner thigh was all the warning you got before he nuzzled his nose up against your clit as he licked into your entrance. He savored the taste with his tongue before licking up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. The sounds his mouth made as he devoured you were wet and noisy as he slurped away at your essence.

You were fighting for your life above him. Reaching for a pillow that was just almost out of reach, you used it to smother your sounds. A sharp slap on your outer thigh served as a warning to keep your voice down. It was the only warning you were going to get. Soon the pillow is long forgotten as you gasp for air. Your thighs began to shake as you choked on your moans. Your back arches, and you can feel your eyes begin to roll. You were going to come, and you would have welcomed it with open arms any other time, but you knew how loud you could get. He was not letting up, and you knew if you came like this, you wouldn't be able to hold back the scream that's been dying to echo against the walls.

You try your best to fight it off. You frantically push at his head, begging him with your eyes as you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to bite back moans. He shakes his head no, but the movement simply adds to the pleasure, and you're about to lose it. You try to get away from his mouth by shifting up the bed, but his powerful arms wrap around your thighs and pull you back down onto his mouth.

"Hae-" His look silences you, and your mouth hangs wide in a silent cry as you spasm on his tongue. It was the most intense orgasm you'd ever felt. Once he helps you ride out the wave, he kisses your pussy one more time before pulling away. As soon as he does, you snap your legs shut, still reeling from the orgasm. His face was practically dripping as he stared you down, hungry.

"Better?" he asks, brushing the back of his palm across his face.

"Mhm,” you reply, causing him to raise a brow, "better,” you quickly follow, using your voice.

Your eyes travel down his body until they reach what you’ve been craving for the most. Haechan was harder than you thought could even be possible. His tip was a furious shade of crimson, gleaming in precum. 

"One more baby," he strokes his length before hissing and gripping the base. "Just be my good girl one more time," he begs.

You almost feel bad. The whole time he was teasing you, he was also teasing himself. You're amazed he's maintained this level of self-control up to this point.

“I don't know if I can keep quiet if we continue,” you plead.

“Open your mouth” is all he says as he prys your legs open and settles between them.

You comply, and Haechan shoves your panties into your mouth. You try to object, but he covers your mouth with his palm for added security.

"My turn," he grins before bottoming out inside you. The first few strokes are so deep, you can practically feel him in your stomach. He's trying to keep control; he's trying to be gentle with you because he knows how sensitive you are, but he's slowly losing it. He's going to use you like a doll. His thrusts pick up pace, and all you can hear in the room is skin slapping against skin unforgivingly. The hand around your mouth clamps down harder as he buries his head into your neck.

“Im sorry... fuck” was all you got as he hiked your leg up higher on his waist, trying to hit deeper. His hot breath fanning across your neck and the soft staccato groans he lets out are the only indications that he is close. Your head is in the clouds, and you can't think straight. You barely register the fact that you came again until he bites at your neck to muffle his deep groan at the feeling of your walls tightening down on him. Next thing you know, he's snapped.

He quickly sits up, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he drives his hips down into you, practically fucking you into the mattress until his hips are stuttering. He pulls the panties from your mouth to kiss you in the hopes of drowning out his own sounds of pleasure. His kiss is messy. It's nothing but tongue and teeth as his thrusts grow slopy. He's practically whimpering into your mouth when he cums.He rides out his high before pulling away from your lips. All you can do is stare at each other as you catch your breath. There is a brief moment of silence before you both burst out laughing. He collapses next to you and pulls you close.

“You think they heard that?” he asks, panting.

"Oh, we definitely heard everything." A muffled voice can be heard through the door, and you assume it's Yunas.

You're too sleepy to feel embarrassed as your eyelids begin to droop.

"Don't worry, you two; we'll say you won as long as you don't try to kill each other again." Johnny's muffled voice can be heard next.

"I don't think she'll be able to do much for a while," Haechan muffles. Speaking to your sleeping form more than anyone else.

"I'll get the plan B girl. I gotchu," Yuna voice fades as she walks down the hallway.

She was definitely gonna grill you for the details. She always wanted a run-down play by play of everything that happened.

Soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in haechans warm embrace.

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Johnny would call his mission a success. You two stopped arguing for the most part, and the group was able to enjoy more peaceful outings without the two of you turning every conversation into a debate. Your friends were fond of your bickering, but at times it could get to be too much. But now that your relationship with Haechan has blossomed into a….situationship? They were running into another problem.

You two fuck like rabbits.

No matter where you were, you two were slipping off to do who knows what or being all touchy-feely with each other, and your friends didn't want to see or hear any of it. But because you two seemed happier, they learned to cope with it. Yuna bought new noise-canceling headphones to use whenever Haechan would spend the night at your dorm. Johnny upgraded the speakers in the house so that when he had a party and you two snuck away, the music could blast louder to drown out your noises. Mark downloaded more mobile games on his phones to ignore you two when you would get all lovey during movie nights.

Haechan still picked on you, but he saved it more for the bedroom, and you still tried to test his patience any chance you got. You didn't know what you two had, but you didn't mind enjoying it while it lasted or even furthering it. You learned a lot more about Haechan and discovered that you two had more in common than you believed. You also learned he could be a real sweetheart sometimes. Maybe your friends were right all along, and maybe Johnny isn't as crazy as you thought. Maybe you didn't have to be better than Haechan all along.

Rushed ending opps

[ravenna-reid]

Your Demons Know Mine

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Canon typical violence and revisiting some of Jason's trauma

It was safe to say you and Jason got off to a rocky start. Even after all these months of fighting and investigating together, the two of you get along as well as oil and water.

It all began when Batman had interrupted you one night during patrol. The conversation wasn't really a welcome to Gotham and the vigilante life, nor was it a complete interrogation. But over time, he ended up warming up to you. A little. If that's what you could call it. And you got the idea that he wanted you to join him and his 'team.'

Initially, you were confused beyond hell as to why he came to you. But Huntress told you it was probably because Batman didn't like anything he couldn't control or at least keep an eye on in Gotham.

You gave a nod, turning over everything she'd told you about the Dark Knight in your head. "Interesting."

So working with the Bats here and there wasn't so bad, as long as you followed one very important rule. Amongst others. Obviously, you couldn't try and discover anyones secret identity or jeopardise their safety, but more importantly, you were never to take a life. You considered this, then agreed to his terms.

"No murder, got it." He didn't seem completely convinced, but you weren't about to piss off Batman. And so you began helping out the other 'bats.'

Nightwing, the Robins, Orphan, you name it.

And that's when you met the 6 foot something tank of a man that was Red Hood. Tall, intimidating and pretty aloof, the two of you soon clashed.

He was aggressive and rather impulsive at times, and you couldn't understand why he had to make such a mess during patrol. He made it pretty obvious that he didn't enjoy your covert tactics, never giving you the chance to prove your trustworthiness as a partner, which really pissed you off. One day he made a quip about how cunning you were. You scoffed.

"Sorry, let me just go grab a page from your book and buy a semi-automatic."

He gave a humourless laugh before turning to face you.

"What should I do first?" You mocked, hand on chin in thought, "Shoot up a building or just bash the criminals with it?"

Then he was only inches before you, figure looming over yours as he peered down. "Should I be sly like you? At least I don't pull the wool over people's eyes."

The tension was thick. Real. Suffocating. You couldn't see his eyes, but you could imagine the glare behind that insufferable red helmet.

The worst part was, even though you've never seen his face, you just knew he was handsome. He was probably drop dead gorgeous the asshole. Tall, sculpted, there have even been times when you caught him slipping that helmet back on, catching glimpses of his dark hair. And he was awfully protective of everyone, especially the innocent. But he was still a brash asshole.

This continued on, and it was soon pretty obvious to the rest how you two viewed each other. And you were sure the Bats were pulling your leg, because now you were on a mission with Red Hood.

"Are you kidding me." You murmured to yourself. But you nodded along and took in everything Oracle told you guys. Luckily you wouldn't be completely alone with him, given Nightwing would be in the area.

He gave you a nudge before whispering, "Maybe this will help you two to finally get along."

No comment from you.

Once the meeting was finished, you waved goodbye to Red Robin, Nightwing and Orphan and sauntered out of the cave. Hood lifted his leg over his motorbike before watching you head towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" He asked, already sounding like he was done with your shit.

"I have a license Red. Meet you there." Then you disappeared into the darkness before an engine roared to life. A single headlight lit up the entrance to the Batcave, and he was a little surprised to see you on your own motorbike. His gaze brushed over your usual braid as it fell down your back. Then you turned and rode off into the distance.

You took off down the backroads and short cuts before you made it to the location Oracle sent you.

A secret lab.

A secret lab the company you work for owned.

For the past few weeks, you'd been picking up the suspicious activity occurring at work between those higher up and began investigating. They were trying to create something illegal. Sell it to big time criminals for a chunk of money. It was some sort of chemical warfare plan and you had to act on it fast. So you were kind relieved to find Batman was onto it now, since you would most defiantly found out what's going on tonight.

Hacking into the system once again, you were able to find tip of the ice berg information, such as the guards time table. There were only two guards on tonight at this odd warehouse, so your plan was simple.

You'd set up your little tear gas traps in front of the breaker box. Once you cut the electricity, they'd head to the box to figure out what the problem was, and then you'd attack.

You couldn't believe how well the plan was working. Thank the Lord you decided to become a Chemist and knew what chemicals to mix and use.

The guard triggered the small bomb, releasing tear gas into the air that began to eat away at his eyes. Quickly slipping your hands into the pouches attached to the side of your belt, you manoeuvred your hands into your chloroform gloves before rushing behind him. With the burning sensation in his eyes, your legs restricting his arm movement and chloroform soaked gloves over his nose and mouth, he was out in seconds.

You slipped away from him and began down the hall towards where the second guard was until you heard a whack. There were sounds of struggles, grunts and heavy thuds. You froze and pressed yourself against the wall, a confused frown on your face. "What on Earth?"

Someone hit the ground hard.

"Scumbag." A voice bellowed.

You immediately rolled your eyes. Turning the corner, you were met with Red Hood with his bloody hands and the guard knocked out on the floor. He took you in; your dripping gloves and that bewildered look in your eyes.

"Sorry princess, was this too much for you?" He asked, gesturing to the guards crumpled form.

"Let's just get on with it." You snapped back, removing your gloves and tossing them back into their pouches. You eyed the guns strapped to his thighs, thankful he hadn't used them...yet.

"You handled the other guard?" He asked, falling into step behind you.

"Mhm. Hence the gloves."

"Right, your little poisons and what not."

You soon came to the door of the lab room Oracle needed you guys to break into. Using the information you'd found whilst investigating, you lifted your goggles from your eyes and went through various passcodes.

You were curious as to what you'd find in there. Jason was curious about how you knew what pins to sift through, watching you from behind as your fingers danced along the key pad. "You only get three attempts you know."

"I know." Third times a charm, because the door suddenly gave a hiss before slowly opening.

You both entered the cold, dark room, but not before something grabbed your arm and pulled you in. You turned on your heel only to find Red right behind you. His hold was a lot softer than you thought it would be. "What are you-"

"How did you know the pins? Oracle didn't even have that information?"

He tried to focus. He really did. But your mask only covered the bottom half of your face, and with your goggles sitting on your forehead, those eyes of yours were sending him into a coma.

"Because I'm familiar with this company." You spat back, a little taken aback. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

"Like hell I trust you."

At the mere mention of it, Jason felt something heavy in his stomach. Why did that statement effect him? Why didn't he like saying it?

"You're with them, aren't you?" He asked, voice low as he desperately ignored the guilt that began to stir deep down. Because the paranoia was just as strong.

"What?"

"You must know what they're doing. What, are you tryna lure us in?"

"Get the fuck outta here Red. You can't be serious-"

Before you could finish what you're saying, something flashed behind him. A figure. A crow bar.

"Red, move!" Using all your strength, you gripped onto his arms and tried to shove him out the way before the crow bar swung, the end of it just hitting your arm.

You let out a pained yell and quickly tumble away from the attacker, hand gripped around your aching forearm.

Jason didn't hesitate, instantly lunging towards the figure. Ignoring the pain in your arm you got into your fighting stance before someone else caught your eye. Someone to your side. Another man covered in black launched towards you, sword in hand.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you ducked out of the way. Swiftly, you slipped under one of the tables and came out on the other side. Draws surrounded you and you quickly yanked one open. It was filled with bottles of half used chemicals and jars filled with...alkali metals. Your eyes practically lit up when you saw them. You grabbed the potassium jar, and just as he made his way around the lab table, you turned the tap of the sink on and chucked the plethora of metals inside it. Next thing you knew, an explosion as loud as thunder went off, smoke decorating the air as he ran straight into it.

Your ears began to ring and a coughing attack creeped up on you, but you could only imagine how he was feeling. Slipping your knuckle busters over your fingers, you began to throw hits. It's not really your forte though, so once he was on his knees, you pulled the cloth from one of your pouches and wrapped it around his head, holding it there with all your strength. He went out like a light.

As you disregarded his body, you turned to see Jason was now fighting two men. You caught him quickly looking over at you before realising his guns were somehow tossed across the room during the fight. Now he was relying heavily on his fists, and that might have been even scarier. He was quick and concise, strong with his hits, and it was obvious he wasn't holding back. The second man went down hard, his face bloody and bruised. The first attacker, however, was swinging that crow bar like his life depended on it. And suddenly you noticed the Hood falter. You quickly raced to Red Hood's side.

Already mixed with such sickening anxiety and adrenaline from the use of the crow bar against him, that panic suddenly grew ten fold once he realised you were coming to help him.

"No!" His voice was laced with desperation, completely foreign to the Red Hood you knew. His large arm came up and suddenly pushed you back. And as he did so, the curved end of the crow bar collided with the side of his helmet. The force broke it, separating the bright red so that you could see one of his eyes and half of his domino mask.

Jason was stunned. He was back in that warehouse with the clown.

"I'm gonna beat you until you're unrecognisable."

Those words sent a shiver down Jason's spine. Why, when he was so much taller than the man, was he suddenly feeling so small?

You saw Red's eye, and the fear that flashed across it. You couldn't understand what it was that was getting under his skin, but it hit you hard in the chest. Because you knew that look all too well.

Eager with determination, you slipped your daggers into your hands and got ready to take out this asshole, when suddenly Hood tackled him to the ground. But it wasn't Red's usual tactic or fighting style. No...this was animalistic. In seconds, Jason had the man pinned to the ground and the crow bar in his hand.

You hadn't realised Nightwing was yelling in your ear, that he could hear what was happening through the comms. Shit, you completely blanked out.

"Hood? [Vigilante name]? What's going on??" Nightwing urged.

But you couldn't respond, because Red Hood was now beating the life out of the man before you. It was violent. Confronting. Harrowing. You knew he was violent, weren't we all? But not like this...

This was the product of something deeper. Something horrible imbedded into Red Hood.

"Red..." Your voice was too quiet, travelling right over his head. But each blow was becoming worse as Jason got lost in his thoughts and fears. Got lost in the past. So this time you yelled out.

"Red Hood! That's enough!"

He kept going though. It wasn't until the harrowing echo of a gunshot ringing through the room that he stopped. Jason snapped his head over his shoulder to look back at you. You stood there, grimace evident on your face even with your mask on, with one of his guns in your hold and aimed at the ceiling.

"That's enough! We gotta go!"

A deer in headlights. Jason stared back at you, the one eye you could see glassy and absent. You lowered the hand gripping onto that awful weapon he treasured so much. You never touched a gun, and you hoped you'd never have to touch one again.

Creeping towards him, you surely, gingerly slipped the crow bar out of his hold. He flinched, his muscles tensing as he watched you. Nerves ran through your body as you slowed down your movements. You tossed the crow bar to the side before crouching down to his eyes level.

A part of you felt sickly relatable to him. Like you were staring at an older version of yourself.

"Come on," you urged. "I know where the files are. Let me grab them and we can go."

Jason slowly came to again, giving a nod in response. You left to search for the folder and Jason's eyes trailed down to the man beneath him, his breath slow and laboured. So many emotions were coursing through Jason. Rage, hate, fear. He looked over to you as he got to his feet, thankful that you were here. But also resentful that you were. That you had to see that side of him.

Nightwing and the others talked through the comms, evidently worried about you and Red, and Jason could only imagine the shit show he'd have to face when he got back to the Batcave.

You quickly walked back to him, thick folder in hand.

"Alright, let's go Red." Your heart was still pounding in your ears as you rushed past him. But he didn't follow. You turned to look back at him; a man so vicious and large, and yet all you saw was someone who was broken. "Red, what's wrong?"

His deadset stare was back, the mask was back up, but his voice was soft. "You hate using guns..."

part two ya'll? lmk in the comments <3

[wing-ed-thing]

Chaotic Best Friend Headcanons with Hidan

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Canon-Typical Themes and Violence, Partying, Mutual Physical Violence, Name Calling (bitch/asshole/bastard)

𓆃 It quite literally doesn't matter how many brain cells you have on your own. It doesn't even matter if you have a completely different demeanor to Hidan.

𓆃 When you're together, you pass one (1) brain cell back and forth, and the base of your friendship is mutually doing stupid shit together.

𓆃 Hidan will suggest ditching an Akatsuki meeting while someone's mid-monologue, and all it takes for him to start heading toward the door is a nod and a shrug from you.

𓆃 You're constantly dip from places without warning. It's become common knowledge to keep an eye on you, but then again, if someone's keeping an eye on the both of you, it'll only encourage more of your antics.

𓆃 You're constantly hitting each other, or at least trying to. If Hidan says something stupid, it's within the nature of your friendship that you just slap him. Punch him if it's really stupid.

𓆃 He's not afraid to break out the weaponry if you're having a serious fued. All kinds of injuries are fair game.

𓆃 But no matter how heated your argument gets, they never last for long. You're making up pretending nothing happened almost an hour later, if that.

𓆃 If anything, you'll talk about the injuries you gave each other in a half-complaint and half with admiration.

𓆃 You're almost never separated, and the time you spend together is usually spent playing made-up games with obscure rules.

𓆃 One of these games, most commonly played on missions, includes the highest kill count per outing which includes bonus points based on where the kill shot landed.

𓆃 This game has been outright banned by the leadership, because oftentimes to even the score, you make kills that are outside of the target demographic.

𓆃 Not to mention how at least Hidan tends to call out his points loudly.

𓆃 He oftentimes needs his calculations corrected, and will turn combative when you imply that his numbers are lower than they actually are.

𓆃 It's likely that you'll end up engaging in combat with each other until you inevitably realize that your catch got away. Then, it's an even more insufferable game of chasing the same target.

𓆃 The survivor will meet their end while you're fighting over them.

𓆃 You'll also bicker constantly over information, whether it's right, and what the details are. Doing tasks together is almost impossible given how often Hidan misunderstands basic information.

𓆃 But for as much as you fight with each other, no one should dare fuck with either of you and expect to survive.

𓆃 Sure, Hidan can call you an asshole and a bitch, but if that random guy at the bar dares call you names, Hidan isn't wasting any time making a killing blow.

𓆃 "Hey! I'm the only bastard who can call that asshole a bitch!"

𓆃 Hidan's also down to roll with whatever idea you ever have. If you want to go burn a whole village down because your date stood you up, Hidan is picking himself off the couch and grabbing his cloak because, "What else is he going to do?"

𓆃 He's also 100% ride or die and willing to go along with the longest plans if it means fun. 3 day bender? Hidan's not doing anything else.

𓆃 Don't want to go to the club alone? Hidan already knows the bartender and can get you free drinks.

𓆃 Want to make your ex jealous and pretend you have a new boyfriend, Hidan is down for a photoshoot.

𓆃 He can be a little too ride or die. He's bound to get arrested at some point for picking fights, but it's undeniable that he makes plenty of exceptions for you and your word.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: The soundtrack for theses headcanons is "Aliyah's Interlude - IT GIRL" on repeat. I had to find this song to write these headcanons to and I set it on loop until I was done.

[jefarawol]

Sanson’s words were lost as the elezen kissed him. His eyes growing wide with disbelief as he felt lips against his own. Was this really happening? Sanson couldn't think. His hand reached up and came to rest at the base of Guydelot's neck as he returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

Jefara, forgotten, chuckled lightly as they continued to kiss. Starting to walk back towards where Jehantel had gone. ~“Make sure you get that leg sorted!” She called back. Her shout barely registered, lost in each other as it were, until Guydelot gripped him tighter and he felt the pain in his leg again grimacing. “Forgive me.” The bard chuckled. Sanson noted that his ears were pink, his fingers trailed up to the base causing Guydelot to shudder. “Now now,” the elezen chided. “There will be time later for that…” “Later…” Sanson repeated back dazed. “If I had known kissing would render your tongue quiet I would have done it sooner.” “You're insufferable.” Sanson shook his head clearing some of the haze.  “You love it.” Guydelot began to head back, adjusting Sanson's weight again. “I do.” Sanson agreed, he could hear how silly it sounded and knew Guydelot would be storing it to tease him with later.

The bard never left his side, staying close as he was given to a healer and checked over. His leg had been broken, Sanson recalled how his assailants had kicked and stamped on him as they took him captive to incapacitate him. Guydelot took his hand and scooted onto the bed as the healers and Commander Heuloix had left. Together they surrendered the tome, with the condition of revealing it when the time was right. Vorsaile pledged his support and convinced Sanson to continue rising the ranks to lend his own voice to the fight, once that was, when Sanson was recovered. He would have a few weeks of rest and recuperation before he could return to active service.

“He's right you know,” Guydelot smiled leaning into him. “You may have been injured but you completed the mission.” “You think I have what it takes?” Sanson looked at him.  “I do, and I'll be at your side the whole time,” Guydelot pressed a small kiss to his ears causing Sanson's face to flush again. “If that's what you want...” Sanson sighed, the doubts he had rising to the surface, now was a good time to say them before things developed further.  “I have to ask you something, to know that you're sure… About me…” Sanson looked away shyly. “Ask away.” 

“What about the bar maidens? And your other lovers?” Sanson felt his face heating up. “Am I just another notch in your bed post?” “You think I have other lovers?” He chuckled. “Oh Sanson, you are adorable!” “Stop it!” Sanson flicked him. “I've seen you with women!” “Have you ever seen me kiss one? Or take one to bed?” Guydelot grinned at him, Sanson stared as he thought back. Had he ever seen it? “...No…” “Would it shock you to learn that I have no interest in the opposite sex?” “You don't..?”  Only men, and only one in particular for what it's worth.” “Only me..?” Sanson shivered at the implication of Guydelot's words. “Only you.” He placed a gentle kiss on Sanson's neck. “Since the day we met my bed has been cold, hoping for the day where you would be the one to warm it.” “I think it's my bed you're warming right now...”

“Gods you two are sickening,” a voice cut over them.

They both looked up, eyes meeting with their small companion. “Jefara!” The Warrior of Light stepped through the door and towards Sanson's sick bed. “You look like you are getting along finally?” “Oh I am sure I'll continue to vex Sanson in the coming days.” Guydelot smiled smugly. “He is so fun to tease being all lovey-dovey for me.” “So I shouldn't tell him how panicked you were when he was taken?” “Don't you dare-” “Oh Jefara I can't lose him!” She mocked flailing her arms dramatically. Sanson chuckled. “Was he really?” Guydelot huffed and chuckled.  “She's got me there,” he nuzzled into the hyur. “Did you speak to the Elderseer?” “I did. Needless to say some Brass Hats are going to have some stern words spoken to them.” Jefara smiled. “She was deeply upset to learn that personal friends of the Warrior of Light had been left for dead.”

She held out her hands to them, each one taking hold, their larger hands dwarfing hers completely. “You both don't know, just how much you changed my life. When I met you both in Dravania…” she squeezed their hands. “I was ready to give up everything. You both pulled me back from the darkest part of my life.” They both looked at her surprised by her words. The raw honesty humbling to them both from such a powerful woman. “It's an honour to have been able to fight at your side.” “That should be our line!” Sanson returned. “It is us who are privileged to fight with you!” She smiled at him. “I look forward to seeing what you both become together.” She paused for a moment with a sad look to her face. “I have to return to the Wall. I fear my absence will be noticed now. As loathed as I am to leave you, I can see you will be well cared for.” “I'll take good care of him, rest assured! And should you ever need us, we will answer your call.” Guydelot nodded at her.

“Until we meet again my friends.” “May the Matron guide you.” “May your voice sing true.”

[ftm-megamind]

this is probably the most specific & embarrassing thing i've ever written but i'm going to explode if i don't share my thoughts somewhere so

chad and ryanas peculiars because im actually going insane

miss Darbus is the ymbryne of the loop

the loop is located in Albuquerque somewhere, 2006

i can't think of a specific day

as for the building you know probably a standard big ass foster home

Darbus can turn into a nightingale maybe? no solid reason they just sing nicely and she's awesome like that

Chad Danforth's peculiarity is very precise throwing? like Diego Hargreeves from umbrella academy? idk seems silly but i think he'd prove it useful somehow

he mostly uses it for shooting hoops of course though he's still a jock

Ryan Evans' peculiarity is maybe like really good hearing? in a way that he can hear even the quietest things and recognize them too

which also means he can learn music just by hearing it which is pretty useful when he's so into musicals and all that

i think Sharpay, as his twin, has the same power or maybe a similar one

or maybe she has a completely different one like being able to manipulate people like a siren with her voice. of course she'd do it by choice and sometimes abuse her power

i think the Evanses were the first to join Darbus' loop

and when Chad joined, Ryan was skeptical at first

they were kind of hostile towards each other?

Chad would throw things at Ryan from across the room, and Ryan would snitch on Chad whenever he would hear him talk shit

of course when you spend a looped eternity together eventually the hostility wears off

especially after one nasty wight attack paired with hallowgasts, they had to put their rivalry aside and help each other out

so when Ryan helped Chad get away from a hallow's slimy tongue instead of leaving him to die, some quiet truce formed between them

though they'd never admit it and would still fight as usual

but in a way that like

if Chad or Ryan saw some other kid giving the other a hard time they'd step in

"only i can be mean to him" mindset

which quickly evolves into protectiveness altogether

which then evolves into homoerotic loyalty

and everyone knows

eventually the fights stop completely and they can be seen just being normal friends

since it's 2006 they play mario kart together or watch some movies or listen to music

Darbus is almost surprised by how well they suddenly get along, but she's not complaining

sometimes they even sneak out of the loop to see some newest movie or just fuck around

they always get in trouble but never seem to care that much

it probably took them a ridiculous amount of time to come to the conclusion that, oh shit, i'm in love with him

even more time to confess their feelings, even though it was very obvious to literally everyone that they're pining

but when they did

dear god did they become the most insufferable couple to walk on planet earth

textbook definition of down bad

almost like Morticia and Gomez Addams but in a jock and prep way instead of goth

and considering that they spent most of their time in the house, everyone could see them being cheesy much too often

they share a bed most of the nights, even if Darbus always scolds them

[goldammerchen]

my ❤ otp is awful ❤ completed templates, tho they are [forgot word] to the max. also, "het", i think i pretty much hc erzsi as a boydyke (that AND/or similar vibe[? help] bigender or transmasc; hc changes according to what i'm doing tho). she tries to not think too much about it :')

pruhun: both are aggressive, erzsi is more mature but not by so much, is less when around him. they get along until they fight, until they make out up, then they fight again. gil is insufferable both on purpose and not on purpose, erzsi gets tired of him. ups and downs and ups and downs, that's something that happens with the other combinations too.

aushun: rod won't admit certain things; erzsi does think he is more helpless than he is; there is some codependency, and there was or still there is power imbalance. in some senses would be smarter for them for stay only as friends (same as above; same as with all three), but what can you do when you have know each other for some long, and are immortal?

pruaus: keep gil as a stalker, and keep them as cousins, cowards. half-joking, do you do, just leave alone people that make them toxic. these two don't talk or admit about their feelings, just stay around each other even if they supposedly hate each other guts. contraries atract, but is not like they never get along (music!!)

frying pangle: the things above, keeping in mind erzsi isn't someone composed 100% of the time. can be assertive but isn't the same as girlbossing or she can be a mess and pathetic (also i prefer her more dom leaning than sub, also something that's not the same but gets confused, and my reasoning is bc she can get uneasy subbing too hard).

lietbel: actually closer to that 'girlboss'-'pegging'-'wifeguy' dynamic. tolys doesn't see or doesn't care about the red flags, which also implies his obsession. other reason why isn't an uwu ship is because she was her subject once upon a time--i know far less about these two in historic terms tho, and and far from an expert about the other three btw.

...and that's why i need pru/hun, aus/hun, fryi/ng pangle (pru/hunaus WHAT ORDER PEOPLE USE THE MOST?), and Iietbel (Iietbela?) to be at least an itty bit toxic or flawed. keep they personalities and dynamics, and at more.

[teklarn]

hi, this is my first ever ask so I'm not sure I'm doing this correctly, if that's the case I'm sorry; I don't know how tumblr works just yet >:')

would it be possible for you to write something about bakugo, pining incredibly hard for fem!reader and initially hating how strongly he feels about her? because they're not even friends, they only exchange few words occasionally and she doesn't even glance at his way whereas he slowly finds himself unable to divert his eyes from her during classes? shes always with damn deku and his friends and doesn't even seem interested in him at all but his heart can't ignore the way she looks at him proudly whenever they spar together, the way she sends him small confident smiles as they fight each other with all they have; so he thinks that maybe, maybe he might have a chance. basically bakugo liking reader so much he's completely lost in self-hatred because he always thought feelings were for weak romantics and not great people like him, but everytime he sees reader doing some badass things (again, like sparring with him and basically matching his skills etc...) he's reminded of how badly he likes reader? but when he finally accepts he's fallen for reader, after ignoring and trying to forget about how she makes him feel, he masters up the courage to confess? and it's a very clumsy confession because he's awkward and has no idea how to deal with those feelings? and he tries so hard to make reader realise he's never been more serious than now? and reader is startled and speechless before rejecting him? and at that point he's just completely humiliated, so he nods and walks away.

it might be a little dramatic but I've always been into unrequited love and one-sided pining. thank you, its okay if you don't want to write about this, i'll understand <33

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader (my hero academia) 

reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

a/n: AHHHHH this is so cute <33 honestly this is super exciting for me and this ask made me so happy, lovey. i’m fairly new to tumblr, i’m usually just a reader but i wanted to migrate here from wattpad so this made me so happy. here u are my love <33 i hope this lives up to what u wanted !! :)) a bit lengthy, but i had a lot of fun writing it !!! 

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: fluffy, fluffier than the clouds istg, however the clouds are sprinking a little teeny weeny droplet of angst. 

warnings: cursing (bakugou, duhh), one-sided pining (on bakugou’s part) second hand embarrassment (on bakugou’s part bc we can all agree he’s a complete idiot when it comes to trying to get someone’s attention), just bakugou being a jackass, i gave the reader a quirk 

word count: 3,859 

(pls excuse any typos or mistakes, i edited to the best of my ability but i miss some things sometimes !) 

- - - 

part 2 is here my loves <3

brutal. it was utterly ruthless. he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think right. his hands were already exceptionally sweaty, but gosh when he saw your damn face, he was ready to explode. literally. 

what the hell was it about you? was it your stupid smile? or the way you just seemed to carry every battle on your back? was it all the undeniably sweet things you do for others ‘just because’? 

it made him angry that he thought about you, but gosh he couldn’t wait to see you every day. 

just like any other day, bakugou found himself staring at the large door to the classroom, awaiting the moment you would bounce into his day, skirt shifting around your legs, bag slung loosely around your shoulders. 

his leg was bouncing eagerly. 

bakugou didn’t know when the feelings came. his cheeks just started flaring up all of a sudden and one day you just looked...different. you hadn’t done anything different to yourself. it was just him. not that he would ever admit that, to you or anybody else. 

you were insufferable. you were stupid and obnoxious and so...so damn... 

“y/n! come look at this!” 

you’d come walking into class just as expected, and as soon as you did, that stupid nerd had called you over. 

it didn’t help that deku sat right behind him, either. the two of you had recently gotten closer. bakugou noticed it last month when he yelled at the two of you to shut up about all might and get to work. he’d turned around to find you leaning over deku, hands resting on his shoulders while you peered at his phone. 

“sorry, bakugou,” you’d said, barely acknowledging him. you had waved him off like an annoying fly. is that all you were to him? some nuisance that got in the way of your oh-so-entertaining conversations with deku? 

all he heard nearly every day was your chipper voice talking to deku. always, “oh my gosh, midoriya, did you see the fight edgeshot was in last night?” or “midoriya! i have something to add to our quirk analysis book!” 

that was the one that took the cake. you two dorks shared a notebook, occasionally passed between one another, and filled it with junk about quirks and pro heroes. but no matter how much he tried to tune you out, no matter how he tried to zone off and think about something else, you were always there. it made him want to vomit how much he thought about you. 

you were doing an adorable shuffle over to midoriya’s desk and leaned over the table as you usually did while he angled his phone your way. “did you see this hero report?” 

deku let you slip the phone out of his grasp to get a better look. 

“no,” you breathed. “was this just recent?” 

“yeah,” deku said, taking the phone back. “last night.” 

“holy—” 

“can you guys shut up over there?” bakugou said, his voice quaking. 

“sorry, kacchan.” deku scrolled through the article. 

dammit, bakugou thought. “i wasn’t talking to you, nerd. i was talking to shitface over here.” he jerked his head towards you. his eyes flared in anger when he saw you were looking down at your phone, now focused in on the article yourself. “i was talking to you, asshat!” 

your eyes flicked up to his. you looked around for a moment before slowly pointing to yourself as if to say, “me?” 

his face scrunched. “yeah, you. you’re so damn loud.” gosh, he hated how his voice was cracking, how he could feel his ears and cheeks lighting up in a swollen, cherry red. his stomach flipped. 

she’s looking at you, gosh i’m sweating. i’m going to throw up. she’s so gorgeous. what the hell? they’re ugly as shit, i don’t think anything of them. 

his eyes bore into yours. 

“did you...need something?” 

your voice broke his trance. 

“kacchan, are you okay? you dozed off there for a second. you look like you’re burning up.” 

bakugou looked to deku who was currently stretching out of his seat, arm extended. he pressed the back of his hand to bakugou’s forehead. “you’re really warm, kacchan. should we call recovery girl?” 

it took him a moment to realize what was happening. his vision got blurry every time he was with you. bakugou smacked deku’s hand away. “i’m fine!” his voice lifted at the end, cracking. “i’m not sick. don’t you think i’d take better care of myself?” 

“i don’t doubt you take good care of yourself, kacchan, but everyone gets sick once in a while. there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“i never get sick!” besides, if i got sick, i wouldn’t want you to be the one taking care of me. 

he was still pissed. he was always in a bad mood, however, more so right now because you’d gone straight back to your phone and that stupid hero article that was supposedly so damn interesting. 

soon enough, the bell rang, and you were seated at your desk. it was jirou’s old spot, however, after much convincing, you two had switched spots so you could be closer to deku. just a few months of getting close to the idiot and you two are suddenly best friends. jirou hadn’t minded one tiny bit, claiming she needed a break from how loud that section of the room was. 

late as always, aizawa came trudging into your room. thankfully, his entire body wasn’t obscured by a yellow sleeping bag that smelled of something unwashed and coffee and gasoline. (for some reason, aizawa’s clothes always smelled of it.) 

“lucky for you,” he began while shuffling papers on his desk, “all of you are doing training for these first periods.”

the class cheered in perfect unison, followed by their individual chatter. you had erupted with glee along with them, and bakugou was sure he felt his heart clench and then explode. just a tiny bit. but he shoved the feeling down just as quickly as it had come up. 

“go out to the field and wait for further instructions. don’t make a sound in the halls otherwise, i’ll expel all of you.” 

this shut everyone up in almost a second, the sound draining out just as water does. the first years trailed out into the hall, single-file mimicking the positions baby ducklings would take when following their mother. 

bakugou found himself walking faster when he saw you take up your spot in the line, hoping to land his spot right behind you. 

unfortunately, this idiot who considered himself bakugou’s friend tugged him back. “bakugou!” a familiar voice rasped. 

“shitty hair, let go of me.” 

“hey man, chill out. wanna partner up if we’re doing training in pairs?” 

bakugou glanced at the line, the spot that should have been reserved for him now taken up by sato. 

bakugou tugged his sleeve from kirishima’s hand. “whatever,” he snapped. 

“sounds good!” kirishima flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. the bubbly feeling in bakugou’s chest died down as he stood behind sato, the overwhelming scent of sugar filling his nose, various candies that would go straight to your arteries. 

“you smell like ass, damn,” bakugou remarked, squeezing his nostrils together. 

luckily, sato was tall enough to not hear the insult, as he towered over bakugou by just another head. the line began moving like a sloppy train down to the change rooms. 

bakugou scoffed as he listened to your giggle. he should be making you laugh. 

- 

“you’ll be given partners randomly from this box.” aizawa held up a familiar red box. “inside are all your names. i’ll select one, then that person will come up and pick another name from the box. that will be your assigned partner for today. as soon as you have your assigned partner, i want you guys to get straight to work.” 

denki raised a hand, speaking before being called on. “sensei, why are we getting random partners? we’re always allowed to choose.” 

“in the real world, you’re going to come across different villains every day. you’ll never improve your skills or your quirks if you keep fighting the same person.” 

denki sighed, slumping back. 

dammit, bakugou thought, gritting his teeth together. there wasn’t any way he wanted to be partners with you. it’s obvious he’d win the fight in the first few seconds. 

yes! exactly right! bakugou internally grinned. his fluctuating feelings had finally soothed themselves. you were just another extra, and he had no room for you in his head. 

aizawa took a moment to fiddle with the slips of paper inside the box. soon enough, he pulled out a name. “todoroki.” 

todoroki walked up, digging his hand into the box when aizawa held it out for him. he pulled out a name, delicately unraveling the slip. “uraraka, you’re my partner.” he deadpanned. 

the brunette grinned. “great!” 

the two found their own spot on the field, and the class’s attention was once again diverted to their grouchy teacher as he pulled out another name. 

“bakugou.” 

bakugou strutted up without a worry in his mind. he pulled a name to find... 

“y/n,” he said, voice a low growl. instead of the annoying fluttering in his chest, his eyes met yours, and they were filled with a different, new ferocity. he crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it twirl to the ground. 

you looked at him, unsmiling. your eyes gave away nothing, and to bakugou’s knowledge, all you saw in him was another opponent. 

it took him a moment to realize you had both locked eyes for about a minute. perhaps the two of you would have stayed as you were if aizawa hadn’t snapped at the two of you to get moving as yaomomo’s name was called. 

bakugou was on his way to the back of the field, you followed close behind. while there was plenty of room still, he chose a secluded area. while it was still open enough to view everything going on so nobody got hurt, it was often nobody chose to train here. for whatever reason, you weren’t sure. 

“wait up, bakugou,” you said. after a bit, you caught up to him. 

“if you can’t keep up, then...” then what? he looked at you from the side of his eye. “then don’t keep up...” gosh, here came the embarrassing, disgusting feeling of redness in his cheeks. 

you laughed. “what?” 

“shut up.” 

“you’re an idiot, bakugou.” 

“i said shut the hell up!”

“what, so you can call me shitface in front of the entire class but you get all pissed when i call you an idiot?” 

so you had heard him! 

he tongued his cheek, curling his hands around an invisible ball, explosions sparking in the centers of his palms. “don’t expect me to hold back, dumbass.” 

“i wouldn’t dream of it.” 

gosh he loved that about you. 

bakugou caught his thought in the air. 

ahem...gosh he hated that about you. 

you both charged in at the same time. his cry was louder than yours, but you struck first. 

he admired your quirk. while he’d overhead you explaining all the drawbacks it had, it was strong, and you were strong because you knew how to control it. 

purple arrows flew from your arms, going in your desired directions. if you lost focus for one moment, they’d vanish and weaken. if you focused too hard or long, you’d be plagued by a splitting headache. 

he’d spent too much time obsessing over your strengths and weaknesses.  

your arrows were weightless, however they were solid objects capable of carrying any mass, any thing, and worked as extensions of your body. 

the violet arrow had shot out at him, twisting around his right gauntlet and crushing inwards. it’d snaked around him without him noticing, slithering along his back. 

bakugou struggled to get the air-light arrow off his wrist, but it was no use. he glared back, only to see your focused, furrowed brows. he’d expected to see your cocky ass smiling. it was nice to see you weren’t. 

that was one thing that had also caught his eye. you never underestimate your opponent, but you never underestimate yourself, either. 

you conjured a larger arrow. it snaked around your right arm as you hurled bakugou into the air, releasing your grasp on him. you shot your other arrow into the air, and it raced into the sky. 

it swerved. bakugou’s eyes went wide as the tip of the arrow came down on his chest. if they weren’t intangible things, he would have been bleeding out. 

another drawback: the arrows, while they could solidify, they couldn’t do any actual damage. you had to use your surroundings to inflict harm on your opponent. 

he coughed out as the arrow shot him into the ground. he hadn’t even touched you, and here he was, vulnerable and so...so... 

you stood over him, hands on your hips. 

vulnerable and so lost in that adorable, winning smile. 

“get away from me, idiot,” he grunted and turned onto his side, his back crying out in pain. 

“i think i won this fight, bakugou,” you chirped, rocking on your heels. 

“don’t get arrogant, shithead. you won’t be winning against me anymore.” 

you grinned, arrows shooting out behind your back. 

- 

the dorms were exceptionally quiet. you were typing away in the common room, bakugou on the couch reading. everyone was off doing something else. it was the weekend, luckily. he’d expected you to go bounding out with everyone else, however you’d stayed back, claiming you had some homework to catch up on. 

bakugou being classic bakugou had stayed back. he was excited to have the dorm to himself, but your dumbass was stuck here with him. couldn’t you have done your typing in your room? 

you were so aggressive on that poor keyboard. 

“oi, quiet down with your shit typing.” 

you barely grunted in response. 

“don’t ignore me.” 

“i heard you, mom.” 

“the hell did you call me?” 

no response. only your aggressive typing is a bit less aggressive. 

“i can still hear it,” bakugou remarked, eyes fixed on your back. 

“��kay,” you said. your typing slowed a tad, and your pressure on the keys lessened. 

it was quiet now. bakugou should go back to his book. he shouldn’t still be looking for a reason to talk to you. 

the pages crinkled in his fingers. he bit his tongue, keeping his snarky comments in. 

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? doing your damn homework. it’s due tomorrow.” 

you turned, pursing your lips. “and how would you know what i’m working on? are you stalking me?” 

“i- what? no. you’re such an idiot, of course i’m not—” 

“i’m messing with you,” you breathed, face un-moving. 

“o-oh,” bakugou stuttered out. he blinked awkwardly. 

“gosh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?” 

“you’re annoying.” 

“you’re a jackass.” you returned to your work. bakugou settled with reading in his room. reading consisted of jumping onto his bed just as the stereotypical high school girl would in an eighties movie. he buried his face in his pillow, face burning bright red. he cursed you for making him feel this way, and hated himself even more for how much he enjoyed it. 

- 

the next day came swiftly. you’d left early to go train with midoriya. there were many improvements needed to be made, but you weren’t doing too bad.

you propelled yourself forwards with an arrow, and your green-haired friend shot back, lightning flickering around his body. 

landing back on the ground, you panted and swiped the sweat from your brow. from the corner of your eye, you could make out both kirishima and bakugou coming to the training grounds. 

bakugou stopped in his tracks, frowning at the sight of you. 

it was evident he hated you a bit more than everyone else. he was always making his annoying comments, he was always snubbing you. you saw no reason to talk to him, so you didn’t. either way, even if you tried, he would still get angry for no reason. 

it’d taken you quite some time to get used to his obnoxious attitude. tuning him out had been the best course of action, in your opinion. 

the way you and midoriya had bonded was through bakugou, in a way. the first day of school, bakugou had snapped at you for tripping over your laces and nearly crashing into him. later that day, midoriya had stepped up and apologized for his old friend’s actions. 

you two had never been too close until now. the recent incidents going on with the league of villains had snagged your attention, and it seemed you were the only person who didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about heroes. 

you were just as passionate and just as dorky, but midoriya could talk your ear off. you never minded, and he always took the hint when you didn’t want to listen. 

you brought your leg up, twirling in the air with ease and watched your heel collide with midoriya’s face. he grunted, stumbling back. 

you were about to charge in again when a hand landed on your shoulder, big and rough. you turned to see bakugou standing behind you, a scowl on his face. 

“fight me again,” he demanded. 

“excuse me?” 

“don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” 

“i’m in the middle of fighting midoriya right now.” 

“so?”

“so if you think that i’m just going to ditch my friend because you want to fight, i won’t.” 

“you’re being stubborn.” 

“i’m being reasonable. back off.” 

“y/n?” midoriya rubbed his jaw—right where you had struck him. “what’s going on?” he jogged up to you and bakugou. 

“he wants to fight me in the middle of our fight. it’s nothing serious. don’t worry about it, midoriya. let’s just ignore him.” 

bakugou made a sound someone would only make if they were choking. “the hell did you just say?” 

“we’re ignoring you!” you waved him off and placed your hand on midoriya’s shoulder, wandering away. 

-

it was new to him, not getting what he wanted. and what he wanted right now was to be around you. again, it wasn’t like he would ever admit that to himself. 

“dude? you good? i thought you went off to fight y/n. i was so ready to cheer you on, dude,” kirishima’s chipper voice piped in. “she’s not fighting with you? why not?” 

“the dumbass was just probably scared of getting her ass beat by me.” 

“dude...that sounds really weird.” 

“whatever, shitty hair. let’s go.” 

- 

the clock ticked. his ears were on fire. again. 

gosh, it was happening again. it was all you. his face scrunched up, his voice would surely crack if someone were to ask him what was wrong. 

bakugou was once again stuffing his face in his pillow, hiding his expression from no one. why did you have to go train with that shitty nerd? why were you always around deku? deku, of all people. what did he have? why was he so great? 

bakugou was a man of many insecurities, but losing to deku? that was possibly his biggest fear. 

perhaps he wasn’t the nicest, or the most soft person out there. bakugou could admit that, at least. but he was smarter than deku. he was stronger and he was better and people liked him more. right? 

what was so...amazing about deku? 

it was often bakugou would find himself obsessing over little, insignificant things such as these. 

you were what he was thinking of most of the time. just yesterday, he’d gotten a test returned. he was expecting an eighty at the lowest, but more so expecting a high ninety. it’d come back exactly sixty percent. 

sixty. percent.

bakugou vividly remembered staring at your face. he also remembered not being able to focus because of it. his grades were dropping because of you. 

you were the only person to be able to do this to him. 

his heart grew quiet, but the pounding of his didn’t cease. he lifted his head. 

“alright, fine,” he said aloud. “you win, y/n. you win.” 

he settled with getting over his feelings the way he’d read them in his collection of romance manga. 

bakugou left his room and knocked on your door. (he was banging on it, but it was his nice way of knocking.) 

you answered, looking around awkwardly. “yes?” 

his hands shook. how was this supposed to go? sure, he’d seen it in romance movies and read it in books but it was always easy to tell whether the guy would get the girl or not. 

in this instance, bakugou was clueless. for once in his life, he was clueless. you stood, tapping your foot with a hand on your hip, waiting expectantly for him to tell you why he was here. 

“um.” he scratched behind his neck. “you uh- i uh...i’m sorry i called you a, um...a shitface.” 

“okay? is that it?” 

what? come on! it was already unlike him to apologize. what else did you want from him? 

“did you...i’ve been thinking, maybe? maybe we could..train together as...friends?”  

“...what?” 

gosh dammit, as friends? 

“whatever, um...the uh...” oh gosh, what did the boys do in all the books he’d read? right! bakugou stretched out his arm, resting his forearm on the door, leaning to the side. 

although he didn’t, really, because like the clumsy jackass he was, bakugou missed completely and nearly toppled to the floor. 

this earned a snicker from you. 

his stomach flipped and churned, and bakugou found himself unable to reach your eyes. “uh, would you maybe..? okay, um. do you want to go on a date with me? you absolute fucking dumbass.” 

your eyes flew wide. “...what?” 

“no, that’s not what i— i mean i didn’t mean the last part. um, i meant the first part. the first two parts. the part where i was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me and then before that when i said maybe because it’s still a maybe until you say yes. or...or no because that’s an option too.” 

he swallowed. 

you resisted the urge to mock him, just a little bit. “um, bakugou, listen.” 

he leaned closer. “yes?” 

“it’s going to be a no. i’m sorry, but i’m just not interested in you like that.” 

it took him a moment to register everything. his shoulders sagged. gosh that was brutal. 

“oh, alright.” 

“yeah, uh, sorry about that.” you offered him a weak smile, still a bit shocked yourself. he did his best to return it, and when you closed the door, his face was ready to explode. 

it was so damn difficult to deal with these feelings, but maybe it was better this way. knowing where you stood on your end, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on anything. 

perhaps it was alright to admire from afar. things could happen in the future, right? 

right now, he’d just wait. for a long, long time. bakugou pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. maybe it was alright to not have you right now. perhaps he could better himself for you. just for you. 

[xhisokas-harleyx]

Helloo! I don't know if i can just request something, if requests are close or something please just ignore it sorry qwq

What do you think Hisoka's reaction would be if he saw Reader in yk,,,, maid outfit or "cat" outfit idk what they called. Like ears+tails. Who knows why, maybe they just wanted have fun and dear someone never knocks 🙄 ilovethismfsomuchistg- Anyways, wishing you a good day or night! 💛

Thanks so much for your request, sorry it took so long. I hope you still find this!

(hope you don’t mind that I sort of ran with this one!)

Warnings: sensuality themes, absolute PAMPERING of your man Hisoka. I mean, serious spoiling kink. Body worship

Enjoy 😊

Hisoka x Reader: Kitten

word count: 2700

Well… you were a sight, that much was certain.

Your eyes danced over your form as you twirled in the bathroom mirror, appreciating your bare thighs in the short kitty dress you were wearing. Your black tail swayed along with your hips, your lace gloved hands placing the kitty-eared headband atop your crown. Your bust was showing through the skimpy black material, and the size of it barely allowed your rump to be covered with a thin ruffly layer of fabric. It was promiscuous and you weren’t sure it was your style… but if Hisoka picked it out for you, you were open to the idea.

Well, technically you’d stolen this item from him, but something told you he wasn’t going to mind.

As you’d been cleaning your and Hisoka’s shared apartment earlier that day, you had unassumingly stumbled upon one of Hisoka’s hidden treasures when you were dusting under the bed. There, beneath the box-spring, you’d discovered a white container which looked as if it hadn’t been touched. Normally you’d never go snooping around in Hisoka’s stuff (not that he had a lot of stuff to snoop in anyway), but because you hadn’t seen it before, curiosity had gotten the better of you.

When you opened the box to reveal the cat maid outfit, your jaw dropped, your mind baffled and scrambling for an explanation. However, it was obvious, right? It was for you, who else would it be for? It made sense- one of his favorite things to call you was kitten… you could hear his lusty voice coo it in your mind even now. But you had no idea he could take things so literally!

You’d been wanting to spoil Hisoka for a while now. He’d been coming back hurt and exhausted from his strenuous missions with Illumi, and although you could tell he wanted to spend time with you, he was always being whisked away to fight his next foe. Many times, he didn’t even get to sleep before the next mission called him. Your little discovery had given you an idea, and currently you were planning it carefully in your head. You figured you had at least a few hours before he-

“So, you found your birthday present.” Hisoka’s voice startled you, and you wheeled around, amazed at how silent he could be stalking up behind you like that. Your face turned bright red- whatever chance you had to back out before was gone now. You took in the tattered appearance of your boyfriend, complete with blood on his face.

“MY birthday present?” You asked, placing a hand on your hip sassily, and cocking your body to the side. Hisoka loved your normal fiery attitude, which could go toe to toe with his own sarcastic and sharp tongue. He knew you still had a soft side, that desire to be sweet to him, but with how far apart you’d been recently, he hadn’t seen it in a long time.

Hisoka chuckled as he captured you in the cage of his arms, his nose burying in the crook of your neck and breathing in your intoxicating scent.

“Fine, you got me… it’s really MY present.” Hisoka smirked against your neck, already parting his lips to nibble leisurely on your exposed skin. Even in his words and his voice, though they were passionate and fervent, you could sense his exhaustion. The cuts that littered his exposed arms worried you, and in a moment, you drew back, looking up into his golden gaze. Bags were beginning to form under his eyes, and although they held a hungry gleam, you could tell he was close to collapsing.

The sight of you in this outfit, however, had him teeming with excitement despite his need for rejuvenation.

“How many times have I told you not to rummage through my things, y/n? Tsk, Tsk.” Hisoka grinned widely, his own catty eyes monitoring your body hungrily. He dearly appreciated your bust peeking through the fabric, your perfectly shaped thighs accentuated by the half white laced stockings, and the collar around your neck with a small bell that showed how possessive he was of you. If you’d paid even the slightest bit of attention when putting it on, you’d have noticed your name engraved on the metal tag. Of course, it was his plan all along for you to find this little secret, and you could sense that he was trying to be his normal difficult self in denying that fact.

“How many times have a told you not to hide things from me?” You fired back, causing him to withdraw and place a spread hand over his chest.

“Ouch. It seems you’re really in character tonight, kitten.”

His use of the nickname made your blood boil, and your aura pique a little at his purposeful insult of your methods. You wondered what his undercut insult truly meant to call you, but you allowed it to slide. For as much as he could be insufferable, you still had a deep desire to please your lover.

“And…” He just had to continue, his words grating on your nerves just as he wanted. “…since you’re already dressed the part, why don’t you get to cleaning?”

You felt enraged at his comment, for a moment letting your anger get the better of you and distract you from your goal. “I-I’ve been slaving over this house all day, what is there left to clean?!” As soon as the words left your lips, however, you realized you ‘d played right into his trap.

Hisoka’s thin eyebrow kicked as if he was surprised that you don’t know... but as soon as you saw his expression, you got the idea.

“Me, of course,” He reiterated anyway, a sly grin painting his features.

Little did he know, you already had quite the plan in mind for him- and it was something not even he had anticipated.

~~~~~~~~~

After promptly shoving him from the bathroom, you began to set up. You’d requested that he give you ten minutes to set up for him, but knowing how impatient the bastard could be, you swiftly tried to get it done in five. Lit candles were scattered throughout the bathroom, the tub in the center of the room being filled with hot water, almost scalding, just how you knew he liked it. Evening light filtered through the sole window in the room, painting the water and floor tiles with an orange cast. You scattered some bath salts into the water, as well as some cotton candy scented bubble solution, which you knew he loved.

That’s when he came barging through the door, smirk on his face, without so much as asking for your permission. You half expected him to be naked, but he still wore his tattered clothes, and you figured he was just that tired. But as he took in the surroundings before him, his eyes widened, and he seemed surprised that you’d been able to do so much in such a small amount of time.

“…” He didn’t say anything, and you quickly assumed your role in his relaxation before he got the chance to question your motives.

“All for you, Hisoka, my darling.” You threw in a small bow, playing the part of a maid just as you’d practiced in your mind. “I hope that everything is to your liking, my king.”

That nickname made him realize how touch-starved he felt in that moment, but he swallowed the urge to foil your little game so quickly.

Seeming to realize he was visibly gawking, Hisoka closed his mouth and smirked, sauntering forward and reaching for the hem of his shirt to peel it off. Though he couldn’t bring himself to say so outwardly, he was very taken aback that, contrasting with your earlier fire, you’d gone to this much trouble on his behalf. Part of him wanted to patronize you and make you angry, but the other wanted to see when this attitude was taking him.

“Let me help you with that.” You floated forward, dropping your voice an octave to reflect the sensual atmosphere you were painting with your environment. Your hands moved expertly to the bottom of his skintight purple undershirt, where your nimble fingers ghosted just under the fabric, grazing the V-line of his pelvis as you began to slowly remove his shirt.

Hisoka allowed you to do so, but he seemed dazed by how angelic and feathery your touch could be. The skin of his chest burned with passion as you pulled his shirt above his head for him, fingertips grazing tepidly over each muscle as you discarded it to the side. The care you touched him with was something he was unaccustomed to- typically when you touched him, you made it clear exactly what you wanted from him. His gaze was intent on your face, and while you could feel him staring, you paid no mind to it and moved onto his pants.

You coyly shimmied the elastic waistband carefully over his hips, ensuring that the magician would be mesmerized by your slight of hand illusions and the ability to make his worries disappear. It was as if you were the only thing grounding him at this moment, as his breathing picked up.

"There...” You dropped to the ground submissively as you beckoned him to step out of his bloodstained trousers, and along with them you trashed his underwear to the side. You ignored his obvious excitement as you reached up again to touch his thighs.

Hisoka’s breath hitched in his throat as your gloved hands traced the detailed lines of his muscular legs, praising and appreciating every mark and every muscle, your eyes remaining in sharp contact with his all the while. You were numb with appreciation at this point, and you let it show in your every motion.

“Look at you… you are so perfect.” You purred up at him, pushing past the moan he accidentally let slip. “Your body is so gorgeous. Every muscle, every mark, every feature is something that should be admired.”

His mind was a wasteland, driven by his willingness to let you talk him up, edge him closer to snapping just with your words. He had a shameless kink to withhold his own pleasure until his very breaking point, and you were unknowingly expertly fulfilling that desire.

~Oh, don’t look at me like that, y/n… you know I just can’t contain it…~

Hisoka’s body truly was like a finely chiseled sculpture, and it made you so pleased to worship him as you felt he deserved. Even if he felt like he needed to cover his imperfections with Texture Surprise, you always had a way of letting him know you appreciated his scars and flaws. Positive affirmations hadn’t been a part of the magician’s life before you came along, but this was on an entirely new level, it was delicacy, fragility, like he couldn’t comprehend.

“Now, if you’ll just step to the tub.” Hisoka did as you asked, his hand moving into yours, and you helped your man step into the scalding water, watching as he sank down into the tub, coloring the water pink with residual blood.

“Well, Well.” Hisoka snickered as he fully relaxed in the tub, and it seemed he’d gotten his spunk back. “What’s gotten into you, y/n? What game are you playing with me, hmm, kitten? You’re not usually this... eager to please me.” His voice was like honey, his eyes closing as he began to soak. You kneeled, and took your position just behind him, sitting on the floor where you could easily access his body from outside the tub.

Your small, heated laugh sent chills up his spine, because you sent it right into his ear, as your now bare hands began to trace his chest. “And why shouldn’t I be? You are THE Hisoka Morrow. You are the most powerful man around… you deserve this.” You got some soap in your hands, beginning to wash the dirt and dried blood away from his body in circular motions. You did mean your words- while you two loved to play fight, you did have a deep, almost obsessive adoration for Hisoka, and knowing that you could serve him like this was a major turn on.

Hisoka shuddered when your compliments continued into his ear, your teeth grazing up his neck, and to his earlobe, where you nibbled lightly. His body was submitting to your touch, his tense nature flowing out of him as you placed him under your spell.

“You’re so good to me… I’m so lucky to have a guy like you.”

You were being so submissive and serving that Hisoka thought you might have been under some mind control or something. This was like a fantasy come true for the magician- of course he feels like he deserves this kind of treatment from you. He ate up your compliments, they made his ego (and something below the water) grow to painful size. What you were saying was all true, of course. He is the great Hisoka Morrow, and you belong to him. Why shouldn’t you worship him like a God?

But as it played out before him, your reverse psychology got the better of him- and Hisoka ended up being the one questioning his worthiness. He expected you to get mad and retort at him, but you were dedicated to showing him how you truly felt.

He had the tendency to be so brash- sometimes he came home and ravaged your body before even saying hello- that was how strong his hunger was for you. But tonight, you had the ability to read the situation, and knew this care, this pampering, was exactly what he needed to recover.

“Let’s get that face, hm?” You nearly moaned, scooping some makeup remover into your palm and beginning to massage the faded paint from his soft, pale cheeks. Your hands moved back toward his hair, fingertips spreading over his scalp as you massaged. But this seemed to be the final straw for Hisoka, because he startled you by grabbing your wrist with such force that you thought he might snap it. You yelped helplessly as his golden eyes flew open and looked into yours directly, as if he were feasting on your soul. You could feel the weight of his aura rising, your sensual touch becoming too much for him to handle.

You knew that look; you’d seen it countless times before. His honeyed irises reflected a deep lust, accentuated by the offset of his tongue on his bottom lip. Your normal reaction would have been to struggle against him- but you submitted to his will, letting Hisoka’s hand pull yours back to his chest… and then lower.

All was silent as you allowed him to force your wrist below the waterline- and you tried to hide your panic when you realized where the magician was leading your hand. His traced his own V-line with your splayed fingertips, as if teasing himself just along the edges of the pleasure he so desired.

“Hisoka- you’re not being any fun.” You stopped him finally, your orbs reflecting a sense of disappointment, when he let go of your hand reluctantly, but not your gaze. He knew you’d truthfully be more than happy to oblige him- he made sure to guide you toward his end goal.

“You’ve had your fun… and now, I want to have you. This was always the outcome, y/n.” He droned dangerously, relaxing into the tub for a moment longer before he sat up, bringing himself to a standing position once again.

His words broke your resolve into shards, and a small moan escaped your plump lips as your tongue grazed across them. He stood up, confidently putting his manhood at your eye level, droplets of water cascading down his glowing body that was bathed liberally in the setting sunlight.

“I believe it’s your turn to get cleaned, kitten… But let’s get dirty, first.” With that, he snickered evilly, and pulled you into the tub, eager to put your newfound submissiveness to the test.

~FIN~

I likeddd this one :3

Hope you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment!

[stygeanbluebasilsprout]

Tags via @koro-is-caffeinated

Well, since you're asking!

Okay starting with Gloria: she is one of my latest OCs, even if she quickly gained a place of honour among them. Which is ironic, because I created her with the explicit purpose of clashing with me. So. In order.

As I already mentioned, Gloria Hirsch (no relation to the cartoonist, maybe some relation to the clockmaker that built my grandma's barometer) is an amateur cryptid-hunter, trying to get Tiktok famous but spectacularly failing at it. Not because of lack of cryptids, nay. There is a lot of weird stuff going on. Weird stuff that would love to not end up on Tiktok, thank you very much.

(I've also already said that I would love to introduce her properly with a Tiktok version of that meme that goes "About to catch Bigfoot I'll post the video later" "Bruh I've had my ass handed to me I ain’t posting that shit")

She is, for lack of a better word, a bastard. Completely insufferable. Arrogant, cocky and stubborn, and not good kind of stubborness. Has gremlin energy. Cusses like a sailor. Brutally honest. 50% sass 50% bisexuality. A temper shorter than the fur of a sphinx cat, and explosive tendencies. (Metaphorically, thank goodness). The most likely to start a bar fight, so to speak.

But all of this is has its bright sides too. Does not back down, especially if she has to fight for her friends. Loyal. Caring. Does not forget a thing if it has to do with the people she cares about. The kind of friend that would slap away the bad thoughts. Or slap you if you try to think them.

I would have the best kind of frenemies who would fight in a Denny's parking lot relationship with her. Even if 99% of our time together would be spent cursing each other's bloodline.

Gloria is a petite jewish girl, around 5'4'' tall, with pale skin and dark green curly hair that reaches the jawline. Has heterochromia (the right eye is grey, the left one is half brown half grey) and a few freckles on her cheeks. Fights using a spiked baseball bat, later e enchanted to sprout thorny vines and ice spikes on command, for ✨extra damage✨. Has a thing for denim clothing, and always wear a denim jacket covered by hand-made patches, featuring a bisexuality one, various cryptid-themed ones and a Plupple one.

Because, I forgot to add, she is a BIG Buzzfeed Unsolved fan, the show being what gave her the push to start cryptid-hunting. Boogara, starts all mighty and though and ends up panicking. (I also have a shaniac character btw, William. I created a world where the supernatural is proven and I still have a shaniac character. Like a boss)

She is quite new to town, her older brother and his joyfriend (is that the neutral for boyfriend/girlfriend? I read it once and I liked it but I never found it again) are university students renting a student apartament amd they took her in after she fought with her parents and ran away from home. But she is quick to clash with other people.

A few fun facts about Gloria: her favourite cryptid is the Jersey Devil, her pizza order is the same as my brother (wurstel and french fries with no tomato), when she listens to "When he died" by Lemon Demon she can't help but singing along and has an annoying allergy to bunny fur.

~

Then, Plum! His real name is actually Maurice. Idk why he goes by Plum. I am the author, and I don't know. Oh well. His name is Plum. I think that only his grandma would call him Maurice. Let's go on.

He is a faun. A mythologic, classic faun. Goat hooves, goat horns, goat ears, all the jazz. Rarely uses pants and shoes, only does so when he has to pass or is doing something that requires armour. Has a quite dark tan skin, with hair the colour of Coca-Cola, black but turns warm brown when the sun hits it, and pink-reddish eyes. Likes to have Milo, his fiancé, and his friends braid his hair and beard with small flowers. He is a bit shorter than 6'0", but the horns make up for it. Ripped as a classical dancer (have you ever seen Roberto Bolle?). He is on the asexual spectrum, but prefers being unlabeled. Gay as hell for Milo, tho.

A quiet person, but not because he is shy. He just doesn't talk much and observes a lot. Incredibly skilled at finding details, quick-witted and with a tremendous memory. He would make for a great detective, but is too pacific for this. Instead, he and his fiancé opened a B&B and shelter for other travellers, supernatural and not. As long as they need help, everyone is welcome here. They also adopted a small dog called Mr. Pudding Puddle.

He likes to play his guitar (I posted a picture of what it looks like a while ago) that can turn in any kind of guitar-related instrument: electric guitar, ukulele, banjo etc. He is very, very good at it. Fights a bit like a DnD Bard.

Plum has a soft spot for ice-cream, especially cookie-flavoured ice-cream. Loves the smell of honeysuckle.

~

Bonus OC, because he and Plum are a package deal, DO NOT SEPARATE, Milo Seo. (@spaceconfusion, they're the OC I mentioned to you)

For starters, he is a trans nonbinary witch (he/they) of korean descent, specialized in herboristery, potion brewing, healing through concoctions and spirit summoning. If the latter seems out of place, it's because it is. They have a magpie familiar called Magpie, they were 3 when they named her, show a bit of mercy.

He is 5'10", with a fair skin, floaty black hair with light blue bangs, and black eyes with silver irises so light that they seem white. Has a lot of thin scars. Loves acting, is an actor and children drama teacher at the local theatre. Their powers as spirit witch comprehend summoning giant ghosts in the shape of koi fish, and controlling them. Can get overwhelmed easily though.

Light-hearted and sweet, he is often described as "someone with the breeze for the soul". They are not sure of what does this mean, but they try their best to refresh people around them. He is a tad shy tho.

When he was little, he was trained to be a potion maker. But soon it became clear that spirits often made their entrance in his life, so his training became even stricter. This gave them the scars, and PTSD from spirit intrusions outside their control. However, they kept on honing their herborist skills, wanting to preserve the family tradition.

Deeply in love with Plum, those two are by far my favourite pairing. Plum proposed, and now we'll see how it goes :). Full time herborist, part-time spirit expert, part-time B&B owner. He is the one who named Mr. Pudding Puddle. It's a name with a story. I'll let you guess what it is.

His hobbies are baking and retro videogames, they are quite good at both of them.

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | TWO

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,495

warnings: depression, anxiety, mental illness! angst, fluff if you squint really hard

18+!!! minors stay away

Peter Parker was relentless, insufferable, and extremely annoying. It all started the morning after what you'd decided to call The Encounter, and it had been unending ever since. Nearly a week had passed since that fateful night, and you'd yet to see a day at school where Peter didn't try his hardest to get under your skin.

On Monday he sat next to you in Calculus, and no matter how blatantly you ignored him for the entire class, he continued to whisper facts about himself and stupid little jokes to you. You wished you could say you hadn't listened, but ever since that morning you'd been unable to forget that his favorite color was red, his Aunt packed him a lunch every day that he threw away because she couldn't cook, and his middle name was Benjamin. Why he thought you needed or even wanted to know such things you weren't sure, but even more befuddling was the fact that you couldn't un-learn them.

When Tuesday rolled around he stepped it up a notch, much to your dismay. He sat with you during Calculus and insisted on jogging with you during gym class, feigning that he was out of breath despite your slow pace and the fact that you were certain he could run for miles without getting winded. He told you more jokes then, too. One of which you begrudgingly found yourself exhaling a little harder over whenever it popped into your head; what did one stranger say to the other? Nothing. They didn't know each other.

Wednesday was the worst, because Peter made a scene. You came into calculus late and the teacher scolded you in front of the class, at which point you got flustered and tripped over your untied shoe laces. Your books spilled to the floor and you tumbled to your knees in front of everyone, and the whole class laughed. But Peter? Peter just had to be the hero, and your blood boiled at his actions.

He'd dramatically swept all his books off of his desk, feigning surprise at the loud clatter as if he hadn't done it intentionally. When the teacher scolded him, too, he just apologized and made a show of picking up each of his things one by one. "Why did you do that?" you'd hissed as you sat down, scowling at the brown-eyed boy who just blinked at you innocently.

"Do what?"

He'd ran with you in gym class again, and he'd even followed you to your locker afterwards. In all the years you'd known of Peter, you had never known him to be much of a talker. In fact, he seemed like a rather shy boy who didn't like to branch out much. With you, though, that was far from the case. Silence was a pipe dream with him around.

On Thursday he sat next to you in Calculus, ran with you in gym, walked you to your locker, and went so far as to sit with you at lunch. You'd put your earbuds in and blasted music as loud as you could without hurting yourself too much, but every time you looked up you could see he was still talking. Part of you wondered why he was being so relentless, but you didn't want to ask. If you asked he would think you cared, and you didn't. You didn't care at all, and the sooner he figured that out, the sooner he would leave you alone.

Or, at least you hoped so. As you walked into school on Friday morning, you groaned at the sight of Peter waiting patiently beside your locker. "What do you want, Parker?" you gritted out, glaring at him as you twisted the dial to enter your combination.

He grinned in spite of your glare, "I'm walking you to Calculus today, obviously. How was your night, (Y/N)? Do anything fun?"

"What part of I don't need friends did you not understand?" you demanded, giving him a stale look as you swung the metal door open with a clang. Peter blinked at you, clearly not used to you actually speaking back to him, and further uncomfortable with your hostility. What did he expect? Did he expect for you to suddenly be happy? To not be completely fucked up anymore just because he started talking to you?

He replaced his lazy smile and shrugged, retorting, "You know my secret and I know yours. That makes us friends."

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to shout, yell, stomp your feet, and throw a tantrum fit for a child. Friends were not something you wanted or needed, and you certainly didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. You didn't want to be friends with someone just because they were worried you'd spill their dirty little secret, or because they pitied the girl who wanted to die.

The black hole in your chest was worse than ever that day, and it sucked away all the fight you had in you. So, with a roll of your eyes, you stuffed your earbuds in your ears and tuned him out once more. Just like he had at lunch, Peter continued to ramble even though he knew you weren't listening, and you pretended you didn't see his lips moving at the speed of light.

For once, at the very least, he at least shut up in class. You were thankful for the break from his incessant chatter, the endless monologue you couldn't escape from when you were stuck in a desk while Mr. Tinley droned on and on. Calculus was far from interesting, but you found yourself beyond relieved to finally be able to pay any sort of attention to the lesson.

Friday was steadily continuing along the same path every other day had since The Encounter. Peter thankfully parted ways with you after Calculus, but quickly rejoined you two classes later in Gym. From Gym he was glued to your side through lunch until you escaped to your Spanish class, which you thankfully didn't share with him, but the solitude was short lived. Your last class of the day was one you also shared with Peter, and prior to that day he had remained seated with his friends.

That day, though, he plopped down in the seat beside you with a cheerful smile. "Ready for our new project?" he asked, skipping the greeting he knew you wouldn't return.

"Huh?" you asked, blinking at him in bewilderment. New project? Our? What was he talking about?

Peter beamed back at you, clearly pleased that you hadn't snapped at him for once. "Our new project! Didn't you see the list on the door? We're partners." he explained, and you stiffened.

It was too big of a coincidence to truly be happenstance. All week Peter had been pestering you, perpetually following you around and talking your ear off, and now he just happened to be assigned as your partner for the final Speech project? He did something. That was the only logical conclusion.

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him with as much intensity as you could muster. "Peter, what did you do?" you growled.

Peter's eyes widened at your tone, and he shifted in his seat nervously with a sheepish smile. "What do you mean?" he questioned coyly, and you scowled at him fiercely. "I didn't do anything, (Y/N)."

"Bullshit." you snapped, "I find it hard to believe that we just happened to be assigned partners after how obsessively you've been harassing me all week."

He gaped at you, "Harassed? What?" he stammered, "(Y/N), let's calm down--I haven't... I haven't been harassing you. I just want you to know I really do want to be your friend."

You scoffed at his excuse, "Shut up, Peter. Just leave me alone! I don't want to be your friend, okay? My lips are sealed. I won't tell anyone your secret, just leave me alone!"

With one finally glare, you lurched out of your seat and stomped to one far away from the still aghast boy. As you settled into your new seat, ignoring the strange looks from your classmates who witnessed your outburst, you wrinkled your nose and picked at your nails angrily. As much as you were angry with Peter, you were also angry with yourself.

You were angry that he'd stopped you, and you'd let him. You were angry at the world for letting your sister die. You were angry at your sister for saving you when she should have saved herself. Most of all, though, you were angry with yourself for how you were acting. Even though she wasn't there, you could almost hear your sister scolding you for how you'd treated Peter.

She always was the levelheaded, rational sister. The good sister. The better sister. She would have been ashamed of how you'd been ignoring Peter, ranting to you, "He's just trying to be there for you, idiot. Stop being such a jerk and let him help you. You need to stop being so stubborn..."

You listened eagerly to Ms. Lovell's lesson and instruction for the new project. It wasn't because you were genuinely interested, because you weren't, but it was something to distract you. It was something to drown out the voice of your sister that was echoing through your skull, rattling you to your core as you tried to keep your emotions at bay.

This was the hardest part of losing your sister. She'd been so close to you, so important to you, it was impossible to not think of her in every moment of every day. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have done, instead of what you had done. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have thought of your actions, what she'd have said to you, of what she'd have wanted you to do.

She had been your voice of reason, your confidant, your role model. She'd always been so much better than you, someone you aspired to be like, and now that she was gone the comparisons were so much heavier on your head. Why couldn't it have been you instead of her? She would never have had such a hard time like you were.

For instance, she wouldn't have been so bitter. She wouldn't have been so filled with rage, hatred, or despair. She wouldn't have blamed anyone, not even herself, and she wouldn't have hated the people who had killed you. She always did love a good superhero, and even if you'd have died at the hands of the Avengers like she had, she would have found a reason to still have faith in them. She would have forgiven them.

This project was going to be a tough one, and not just because you were going to have to work with Peter Parker. "This is going to be a persuasive speech, guys, so you're able to pick your stance freely so long as it pertains to the Avengers. For example, you could persuade us that they're bad, if that's how you feel." Ms. Lovell explained, "Just be prepared to face debate from the class. Each group has to face five full minutes of argument from the class and be able to firmly debate their stance."

A project in which you'd have to argue your stance pertaining to the superheroes that had killed your sister, and you were working with Peter-Spiderman-Parker. Great, you thought to yourself, this was going to be a nightmare. There was no way the two of you would agree on what stance to persuade; you hated superheroes, and he was one, for God's sake.

You glanced over at Peter, only to catch him already staring at you. The pair of you quickly looked away from each other, but you noticed the way his cheeks flared red in embarrassment. How long had he been watching you? Was he dreading the project now as much as you were?

He probably didn't know how you felt about the Avengers. Not many people really cared enough to read about what had happened to your sister, and you weren't exactly in the right state of mind to be out protesting the many shortcomings of the superheroes. You wondered, though, how he would react when he found out.

Lying was an option, but there was no way you'd be able to debate in favor of the Avengers without breaking. Could you debate against them without losing it either, though? You weren't entirely sure. It was a sore subject and you were certainly not looking forward to having to dedicate your time to speaking about them.

Peter lingered by his seat after class was dismissed, staring at you awkwardly as he told his friends he would catch up with them later. You could see the strange, weary looks they shot you, but you chose to ignore them. Everyone looked at you a little funny ever since the incident, and you'd long ago grown accustomed to it. This time, though, you couldn't help but think they were looking at you strangely for a reason other than your sister.

You had two options. You could suck it up and talk to Peter right then, or you could continue to ignore him until you were forced to do the project. Catching his warm brown eyes as he timidly watched you, you sighed. It was now or never; maybe if you were nicer he'd back off a little with the obsessive tendencies.

"So," you drawled, approaching him shyly, "how are we gonna do this?"

This was what she would have wanted you to do; that's what you chanted in your head as you forced yourself to at least seem somewhat approachable. "Uh, we could--we could meet up tomorrow? You could come to my apartment." he stuttered, scratching his neck awkwardly and fiddling with his backpack.

He radiated nervous energy, and the black hole inside of you consumed it greedily. You twiddled your thumbs just as nervously as you replied, "Do you, um, do you mind coming to my house instead? My parents are--they're a little weird about me going out because of... yeah."

God, his stutter was rubbing off on you, and you cringed at the way you stumbled over your words like a fool. It had been such a long time since you'd invited anyone to your house, let alone talked to anyone besides your parents and your therapist, and it was stressing you out. The exhaustion of the day was wearing you down rapidly, and having to socialize was making it worse.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course!" he spluttered, "Uh, could I get your number? So I can, like, text you when I'm coming?"

You hoped he didn't notice how much your fingers were shaking as you took his phone, struggling to type in your number as you mistyped multiple times. Once you'd saved your contact into his phone, you sent yourself a text so that you'd have his number too. You didn't exactly answer unknown numbers anymore, though if you were honest, you often didn't answer people you knew either. That was what drove your friends away.

Peter shot you a shy smile as you handed his phone back, and he asked, "Do you want to get started tonight, maybe? I could call you."

Biting your cheek, you paled. Tonight? You were exhausted, and the thought of having to talk for any longer made you nauseous. "No offense, Peter, but I... I really just need a break. This week has been a lot." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you stared at your feet.

"Oh, yeah, totally." he acquiesced, "I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow."

You didn't reply, only giving him a tight lipped smile that probably looked more like a grimace as you quickly walked away. Once you were out of his sight, your entire body drooped and the numbness steadily washed over you. It had been the longest day, and you were once again grateful for the escape from the overwhelming emotions.

Ever since she died, it was as if all your emotions were on overdrive. There were the many constant ones, like the guilt, shame, and anguish over her death. Along with those were more fleeting ones, like anger, disgust, and fear. Peter, though, he brought about a whole slew of new and equally as intense feelings that drained you.

He made you feel things like anxiety, apprehension, and hope. There was anxiety both due to his wild behavior in regards to you, but also because you feared he might tell people what he'd seen. The apprehension was due to your suspicion he was only so interested because you knew his secret, and was just as fearful that you would tell. But the hope, the stupid anticipation, was the worst.

It was the worst because a stupid part of you hoped he was genuine. You wanted him to really want to be your friend with no ulterior motives because, no matter how much you denied it, you really did need a friend. You wanted a friend. You wanted to let someone in.

You weren't buying it, though, because you were certain you couldn't handle the heartbreak of being wrong about his intentions and discovering he really did only care about his secret. You weren't going to let him hurt you, and if you had to shut yourself off from the world and hurt yourself to prevent it, then so be it. It was easier that way.

Peter Parker: hey i know you said you didn't want to start tonight but that doesn't mean we can't get to know each other

Peter Parker: so if you want, lets play 20 questions! i'll start. what's your favorite movie?

The typing cursor blinked at you tauntingly as you laid on your bed, huddled under the blankets with your thumbs hovering over the keys. That stupid part of you that wanted to make your sister proud begged you to go along with it, to let him be a friend, but you were terrified. You were terrified of the way you actually opened the text and went to reply without hesitation, something you hadn't done since before the incident. You were terrified of the way you wanted to reply, but the only thing that gave you pause was the fact that you didn't have an answer.

Movies weren't something you'd given much thought to in awhile. You knew all of your sister's favorite movies by heart, but your favorite movie? It was as if your brain opened an empty drawer. You didn't know what your favorite movie was.

You: i don't know

Peter Parker: what do you mean you don't know

Peter Parker: do you not like movies?!

You: i just don't know okay

You: i can't remember the last time i watched a movie.

That was a lie. You very well could remember the last time you'd watched a movie, and that was because it was with her. The weekend before she'd died, your sister had dragged you to the theater to watch some cheesy romance film she'd been gushing about for weeks. It was awful, but it was so utterly her that you'd weirdly enjoyed it. You enjoyed it because it made her happy.

Peter Parker: that's crazy wow

Peter Parker: no offense sorry

Peter Parker: it's your turn to ask

You: what's your favorite movie

Peter Parker: star wars but you can't ask the same question!! try again

You: fine

You: what's your favorite food?

Was talking to boys always this hard? You couldn't remember the last time you'd had to get to know someone, but you didn't think it had ever been so nerve wracking. Was something wrong with you? Was everything destined to be this hard now that she was gone?

Peter Parker: anything from Delmar's

Peter Parker: best sandwiches in Queens

Peter Parker: since you got a double and you technically didn't answer my first question, i'm asking you the same but also what's your happiest memory

Everything was always going to be hard. Reading his response, your lungs deflated in your chest and the numbness gave way to the all too familiar sensation of despair. She'd always loved Delmar's, insisting on getting the same sandwich from there every single Friday after school, and it had been your thing.

Would there ever be anything that didn't remind you of her? Remind you of the hole punched in your life where she used to be? It was hard enough dealing with the empty space in your room where her bed used to be, the empty chair at the dinner table where she'd used to sit, all the empty spaces she'd used to fill up. But the little things--the little memories of things she'd used to love--those hurt so much more.

You: i have to go

You: i forgot i'm busy tomorrow so we can't start the project

You: i'm sorry

SERIES TAG-LIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton

[newtonsheffield]

Hello again!!!! I'm the Spanish girl back in here!

Firstly, I'd like to send you my best wishes for this tough week of work, and I bet we're going to miss you around here this week. But duty calls! And, look, how many people can say they've got a whole week for relaxing after a week of work? 😌 (Perhaps I've misunderstood the whole thing; I've read your posts quite quick and I've understood sth different to what you wanted to say lol)

Well, what can I say with one of the last prompts you have gifted to us...? Kate, Anthony (and his Spanish!!!!!!) and Spain; you got me there. 😂 I even cried the famous "Ole!" when I read all of it (curious note: not all Spaniards use the expression "ole" in daily contexts; it is more like a regional expression that became worldwide famous bc of several reasons that are too long to post here, lol) and I think it's needless to say I loved it... isn't it?

And, I LOVED a lot Edwina's POV and story (well, I've loved everything you have posted and gifted to us, but Eddie has a special place in my heart)! I don't know, but sometimes I get the impression that, in romantic literature, relationships between sisters are not addressed at all and kinda force them to be friends (if they're not rivals... which I find stupid, tbh), not really deepening in the bond between them. Like, they're sisters and they behave more like "my next door neighbour and friend to whom sometimes I'm distant bc life happens" instead of "this person and I share much more than many people can imagine that's beyond friendship and she's more important than anybody else" -idk if this makes sense anymore... I rewrote it a couple of times bc I got the impression I can't express my idea very well 😂-. And that's something I think both of you, JQ and yourself, have achieved and gifted to all of us! We see Edwina and Kate as sisters: they fight, they tease the other, they can't stand each other sometimes, but always, ALWAYS, they care for and love the other just as sisters do. Because of this, I think TVWLM is one of my favourite books in this genre: they give us a two fantastic love stories, not only between a -heterosexual- couple but also between sisters; which is as important as any other kind of relationship.

After my TED Talk (sorry if it's been too much... 😅), I cannot help but imagine an escapade between Anthony and Kate (sans children) and Matthew and Edwina (oh, Matthew... I love you) to Spain just for Anthony, in his stupid one-side battle against Matthew (I love this, tbh; it's sooooo fun 😂), demonstrate Matthew he can speak fluently another language... Just for Matthew be oblivious to this and enjoy a little escapade to Spain with his girlfriend and her family. 😂

Anyways; I hope you're alright and, again, I wish you all the best for this week.

Besos!!! 🥰 (Spanish equivalent for the "Love!" farewell expression; it means "kisses")

Hola! You’re back again! And I’m so glad! 

I do have a week off once I finish work tomorrow (Saturday)!! Very Exciting! I have a scarf to knit, and lots of writing to do so that’s very exciting. 

Oh Anthony on a Spanish beach in tiny little flamingo shorts? Ole! indeed! That is a curious note, I literally love learning things about other cultures and languages so if anyone wants to share a curious note about their culture, hit me up! I will in turn tell you about the curious culture of The Land Down under, and our propensity to butcher the English language!

I agree, Sister relationships are a very curious thing in media. I’m not a huge fan of very contentious relationships between sisters, I’m not saying they don’t exist in real life, they definitely do, I just think having them as constant rivals is exhausting. And Yes! I Love the relationship between Edwina and Kate very much because I see it as a mirror of my relationship with my own sister. My sister drives me more insane than any other person on this planet. We fight, we bicker, I get absolutely enraged when she steals the last property I need for a set in Monopoly, and yet, She is my favourite person. She can say whatever she wants about me, but were anyone else to? It’s fight on sight. I’ll be honest, that all I’m doing is basing their relationship in these fics  on my own with my sister. Nothing special! 

Okay! Here we go! Anthony and Kate + Goose and Edwina +Spain

Kate Bridgerton was many, many things, but she liked to think an idiot, was not one of them. And so, when Anthony had said, in a tone she was sure he thought was casual. “I think we deserve a holiday, you’ve been working very hard to grow the little broad bean after all and your sister and her little gander should celebrate their engagement.” She had known exactly what he was up to. And she wasn’t really sure why she played along along with it. Perhaps something in her thrived on the chaos she knew Anthony would would create, perhaps part of her just really wanted a decent paella. Surely it didn’t matter, the result was the same: Kate fixed an innocent expression on her face and said  “Where did you have in mind?” 

 And so, surprise, surprise, here she was: back on a beach in Spain. She had to admit, eyeing Anthony appreciatively as he paddled demonstratively in the shallow water, his plan had its merits. though thus far his attempts had been... unsuccessful at best. Matthew Bagwell seemed absolutely thrilled to be in Spain, on holiday with his fiancée, giving them helpful facts he knew about the architecture as they walked through the city, a wide smile on his face, Anthony practically purple when he corrected a fact Anthony himself had said.   “Do you speak Spanish, Goose?” Anthony had said dryly in the hotel lobby shortly after they’d arrived. And Kate had rolled her eyes at Anthony, though Matthew was not paying attention. He had his arms wrapped tightly around Edwina’s waist, whispering something in her ear that made her nose crinkle in delight, the sapphire of her engagement ring glinting in the sunlight. And the beautiful picture they made gave Kate’s heart a little stutter. Anthony tutted. “Matt!” He said sharply, getting the man’s attention, Matthew’s glasses slipping down his nose as his head shot upwards in surprise.  “Do you speak Spanish?” Edwina was rolling her eyes now. And Matthew, for his part was completely unbothered  “oh, no. Sorry Mate, might have to lean on your pretty heavily this week.” He said, and Kate caught the smug smile on Anthony’s face and bit back a groan Damnit Matthew.  “I’m pretty fluent in French, German and Mandarin though!” Matthew said smiling happily, turning back towards Edwina, completely oblivious to the scowl Anthony tossing his way. “Of course you fucking are.” He muttered, fixing Kate with an irritated glare as a laugh escaped her!   

The water surely must be a little cool in early October but Anthony showed no signs of it, Beckoning Kate into the water. She groaned and made her way towards him, laughing happily as he tugged her in, his hand resting on her stomach, still no sign of her pregnancy. “Is he watching?” Anthony whispered in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist, spinning her through the water So she had a brief image of her sister smiling brightly at her fiancée who appeared to be... bless him building a sandcastle. 

“No. He’s not.” Kate said batting her husband’s hands away irritatedly as he scowled.  “Are you really trying to look more in love than they are?” Kate scoffed, disbelief at her husband’s idiocy rising with in her. Anthony looked indignant. “No! A man can’t take an interest in his wife now? Very poor show Mrs. Bridgerton.” He said, but his eyes, darted towards the shore at the last second.  “Oh I cannot believe you! You’re absolutely manic!” She replied as Anthony attempted to pull her back towards him, Kate putting up very little fight as she tumbled against. him, his voice hot in her ear. “Insufferable I hear.” Kate scoffed. “Ugh! If Anyone’s insufferable it’s him!” 

Kate turned to follow Anthony’s gaze to find Matthew waving at them, grinning broadly, completely unbothered. And Kate couldn’t keep from laughing as Anthony went on another muttered tirade.

Besos! 

[scummy-writes]

I'm the anon from the suicidal mc ask and I just wanna say I'm sorry. I feel like I jinxed the whole situation with your mom and I feel soooo bad cause you're such a nice person and you don't deserve that. And I don't want you to try and convince me that it's not my fault because I feel guilty and I know logically that I shouldn't but I just can't help it. Regardless, I'm sorry for how stressful your life has been lately and I wish you nothing but peace and happiness in the future. ❤️❤️❤️

I know you just told me not to tell you this, but I need to stress this so much, because I’m so worried you’ll try to use this as fuel to dislike yourself or something, because I’ve been in your shoes (Suicidal, depressed,attempting), and every little bit to help fuel me hating myself more I welcomed.

And I do NOT want you to do that, okay? Do NOT do that, please. Because you couldn’t have caused this- This would have happened regardless of you sending in that ask or not. Because of the people surrounding my mom with negative words and manipulations- NOT an innocent anon who just wanted to know how their faves would treat them for feeling suicidal or even thinking along those lines.

Please, if I can help ease that guilt, let me know, okay? Because trust me, in no way did I ever feel like you jinxed this, or did I blame you for it. I completely separated you, and any other self harm/depressing asks, from my current situation.

But, she is doing better. She’s doing a lot better, and in a way I’m a bit happy she was able to go to the hospital, even if she was horrible and angry the whole time. Because then we would have never found out that all her medicines were fighting against each other and causing her so much physical and mental pain.

She has a few auto-immune diseases, so she had this literal box filled to the brim with legal prescriptions she had to take every day, but instead of having like, thirty, different pills, she’s got like five. And it’s causing her to slowly get better and make her pain more bearable, rather than insufferable.

So if you still feel guilty- Know that all of this still had at least a small happy outcome, okay? Because now she’s got the right doctors, me and my little brother know what mental illnesses we may be subjected to in the future, and she’s in less pain overall.

Thank you for the kind words! Me, myself, I’m doing a bit okay, but nice asks like this always help!

You take care of yourself too!!

[cyanoscarlet]

on the other side is hope

#yoiweek2017 Day 4 (The Inferno) - anything related to emotions

Viktor, before and after Yuuri’s death.

(stories on (and off) ice)

.

"Tadaima, Yuuri!" Viktor announces himself cheerfully as he enters their room. It's funny how the familiar Japanese phrase still does not roll off his tongue quite right despite years of use.

Yuuri looks up from the book he's reading. More than two weeks have passed, but he is still only halfway through. "Sitting up for long hours no longer agrees with me," he had once said. The dark circles under his eyes seem to get worse despite spending almost the entire day sleeping.

It breaks Viktor's heart every time.

"Okaeri, Viten'ka," Yuuri returns the greeting in kind. He manages a smile, at least. He always tries his best, the way only he can do. It's been so long; Viktor should know - they know each other the best, after all.

.

Phichit and Yurio are the first to arrive at the hospital. The former practically bursts his way through the room, as if getting there even a second earlier would change everything.

Viktor watches the gray skies from the window. He barely registers anything -- not the somber mood, not the comforting words, not his friends' tears.

Of course, it changes nothing. Just like how he feels now.

Nothing.

.

Yuuri has always been the one to reassure Viktor, even when he did no better himself.

It was in the small trick with the crumpled tissue paper. It was in the decision to do the Rostelecom free skate alone. It was in the complete confidence and pride with which he gave the performance of his life. It is in their most intimate moments, those loving eyes full of trust as he says yes -- yes, he wants this.

And it is in his brave, unfaltering smile, now, as he accepts everything and prepares to let go.

Viktor doesn't. He fights, he pleads, he begs with so much tears streaming down his face to please don't do this to me! You can't go! I love you so much, and --

He is enveloped in a bone-crushing hug, in unusually strong arms that should have been weakened by months of illness and disuse. Viktor tenses as he feels Yuuri's actions betray his words.

"Please, Viktor. It's enough."

It's okay. I'm happy, he supplies Yuuri's unsaid words in his mind as hot tears stain his shirt.

.

It is all too surreal, Viktor thinks. There are too many flowers, too many candles, too many people in black -- formal, subdued, crying.

He almost trips over his traditional hakama, also black. The smell of burning incense is nauseating.

Chris -- he thinks it's Chris -- leads him out of the room. The black suit looks absolutely terrible on him.

Viktor has never hated a single color this much in his life.

.

They go out on one of Yuuri's better days. Viktor excitedly points out to various things as he pushes the wheelchair along the park. Everything seems more beautiful, more lively, more colorful than ever.

Yuuri knows he's exaggerating. Points it out, even, like he always does whenever his insufferable grown-child-of-a-husband is being ridiculous.

It's like the old days, really, if he thinks about it -- if he wills it hard enough. Some days, it works. Hopefully, today can be one of them.

The illusion holds throughout the day, over a barely-filling meal and a bouquet of false flowers, and as their golden rings reflect the red of the setting sun.

Yuuri kisses him tenderly, and as the bitter taste of medicine lingers on his lips, Viktor lets himself believe.

.

It suddenly hits him all at once -- in the restroom, of all places.

One minute, he's adjusting his uncomfortable, black haori before the mirror, and the next, he's curled up and trembling on the floor, big, violent sobs wracking every fiber of his being. All the pent-up feelings of grief and denial he'd held for the past three days -- perhaps even longer than that -- come down on him like a ton of bricks, and he is unable to think, unable to do anything, unable to shake off the horrible feelings of hurt and longing and despair that he refused to acknowledge until now.

Funny how he truly, finally understands how Yuuri must have felt when he lost both poodle and podium in Sochi, after the man himself died.

Funnier thing is, he thinks he does .

Where does he even begin?

.

Moonlight filters through the window blinds as Viktor sits by his husband's bedside, lazily drawing compulsory figures on the thin, white sheets. "It's a nice substitute for dancing on the ice," he says.

Yuuri laughs weakly, sharing in the joke. Even in his worn state, his brown eyes shine as bright as ever, like they always have. His gaunt finger joins Viktor's on the soft fabric, tracing old programs from memory, adding jumps in the appropriate places.

Viktor's finger stills as Yuuri's meets it halfway, as if asking for a dance. They move together in time with the music, and if he tries hard enough, he can hear it echo loudly -- Stammi vicino, non te ne andare.

It was a plea he'd made long ago, alone on a big expanse of ice. It was a plea answered, as they danced together on the same ice, promising to never let go.

And now...

"Promise me you'll live on," Yuuri whispers his own plea. "Live for yourself, and for all the people we love."

Viktor nods, clasping both their hands together. He'll live a thousand lives more, if Yuuri wishes for it.

.

Viktor spends the next few weeks at the Yu-topia inn, helping out with the work however he can. Though Yuuri's death has shattered them all, life goes on, and so must they.

The atmosphere is a lot more subdued, a far cry from the warmth and happiness he has always associated with the place. It is as if a great snowstorm had come and passed, leaving everything frozen in its wake.

Perhaps, it is only Viktor's own heart that is frozen, numb from the hurt, unable to move on.

Everyone calls him at some point, some even more persistent than others. He exchanges empty pleasantries, gives noncommittal answers, says the same things over and over, as if his own beliefs will change in time if he just keeps at it.

He doesn't even know anymore.

A month passes, and Viktor is called by Mama Hiroko  to Yuuri's old room.

They quietly sort through Yuuri's old belongings, some for Viktor to take home, others to be given away. Some items evoke certain memories, and he finds himself in tears again.

Mama Hiroko isn't any better, either, but God bless her, she tries.

Ah, Viktor realizes with a start, Yuuri's just like his mother.

"Vicchan," she  begins with a shaky voice, "I know how difficult this has all been. All this..." She starts to cry again, unable to continue. He opens his arms for an embrace.

"Thank you for loving our son," she goes on after a while. "For staying with him, for making him happy, up until his last moments." Viktor nods. He, too, thanks all the gods for giving him Yuuri, for giving him a special ray of light when he was lost.

For giving him back life and love, and everything else.

He feels the ice in his heart gradually melt again. He has a life to live, and live it well he will.

.

Viktor returns with a takeout from the downstairs cafeteria. He sets it down on the side table and starts talking about this funny thing that happened while he was waiting in line.

Yuuri doesn't answer.

The katsudon remains uneaten, growing colder with each passing minute.

.

They run through the choreography over breakfast, with Kenjirou excitedly asking questions between mouthfuls of food. Viktor stifles a laugh as the boy chokes, offering another glass of water.

After cleaning up and doing a final check of their luggage, the two stop by the row of framed photographs in the living room. Kenjirou puts his hands together before a picture of Yuuri, silently praying for luck and guidance for the upcoming competition. Behind him, Viktor kisses his wedding ring, before letting his hand linger on Yuuri's own band, which he now wears as a pendant around his neck.

He imagines his husband lifting the ring and bringing it to his own lips.

'I will always watch over you, my Viten'ka,' he hears, quietly whispered in the air.

Viktor smiles, contentment washing over him. "Ittekimasu," he breathes out. "Ya lyublyu tebya."

'Itterashai,' the response comes, completing the ritual. 'Aishiteru.'

It's enough.