#thoughts and opinions time to get it out of the way!

[fairestwriting]

Reader sleeping on the couch after an argument w/Dorm leaders? How they would react w/happy endings?

this got super long so i decided to change up the post layout so longer stuff would look nicer. But im also posting from a new device so if this goes up and theres any formatting fumbles then uhm. you didnt see anything

𐙚 Riddle Rosehearts

Despite how hotheaded and stubborn he is, it’s actually really rare for you two to really argue. He values your opinions on everything, and he’d hate for you to feel like he doesn’t hear you or care about your feelings. The last thing he wants is to make you feel like doesn’t care.

That, however, is something he’s still learning. It’s not very easy to let go of the habits he developed growing up— Especially if he thinks what he’s doing is best for you. He doesn’t know how to convince people, so he ends up coming off forceful and inconsiderate. It might even happen without him noticing he messed up, if you’re not extra straightforward about it.

So he knew you weren’t happy with him, but really didn’t think it was that bad, seeing you asleep on the couch is the last thing he was expecting. Even more if it’s the first time it happens, it makes him freeze go into panic mode.

You’re woken up to a really shaken looking Riddle, asking you what you’re doing on the couch at this time in very genuine confusion. He might not even have considered it was because of the argument, too focused on trying to figure out what’s up with you. And it’s hard to stay upset at him when he so readily listens to whatever you have to say, apologizing profusely and making a promise to not do it again that he’ll always keep. His intention from the start was to do what’s best for you, after all— So if he turns out to be wrong, the first thing he wants to do is to correct it.

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Arguing with Leona is… definitely a situation. It might have you wondering if it even counts as an argument at all. Sometimes he just doesn’t seem to even react to what you have to say, sometimes he straight up states he can’t be bothered to argue. He’s not as stubborn towards people he really likes, but he’s still very proud.

He can actually tell that he messed up very quickly, pretty much in the middle of whatever interaction went wrong, but can’t bring himself to actually back down and admit it. He doesn’t even bother trying to convince himself that he’s right or anything, he’s just that allergic to saying the word “sorry”.

When he walks past you, his first thought is that he should just “let you sulk”. It’s probably not the first time it happens to him in a relationship— And the same routine plays out every time. He wants to walk away, but he can’t. He eventually does, then he comes back and stares for minutes. Regret starts to really sink in then.

You have a blanket draped over you the day after, and Leona just so happens to be around to ask, much more tentatively than usual, if you’re coming with him to get breakfast. It’s his version of an apology, kind of. He’ll actually say it out loud if the subject of the argument was more serious, but that’s rare. He’s not very good at this and the both of you are aware of that, but he still cares, and he’ll get there eventually. Maybe.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, he might actually have the lowest argument rate out of all dorm leaders? He owes a lot of it to just being good with words, he pretty much always manages to bring up his disagreements in a really non-confrontational way, they’ll barely even register as disagreements at all. If he can’t find a way to seamlessly compromise, he often just keeps his thoughts to himself.

...Mostly because he gets too anxious at the possibility of you rejecting him. Even if it’s something small, it’ll stay inside his head and refuse to leave, getting dwelled on when life starts to get particularly stressful. If you two argue, the likelihood is that he actually started it, because some other minor issue came up and the pile he was mentally stacking ended up falling apart.

Things can get really messy in the moment. Everything sounds offensive to him when he’s freaking out, while at the same time he’s painfully aware that he’s being overly emotional and causing problems that didn’t exist before. He stops his rant suddenly when self control manages to return to him, but at that point things were already said, and you’re walking separate ways after he awkwardly suggests you two just take a moment to cool off.

He might not even see you on the couch, being too ashamed to leave his office, but Jade will let him know either way. Azul won’t disrupt your sleep, and he’ll even try to give you enough time in the morning to get through your usual routine, but as soon as it’s possible he’s looking for you to privately apologize. He takes care to clear up any misunderstandings before voicing any of his worries, even though it’s visible how nervous he is. It comforts him just to see you looking at him with fondness again, seriously relieved that he won’t be losing you over the situation.

𐙚 Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is another one who doesn’t really argue, but that’s not to say he doesn’t voice his disagreements, because he does, and he does it very often. It happens as soon as the thought pops up in his mind, spoken all lightheartedly. Regardless of what the subject being talked about is.

…Which can very easily become a problem. He does take all your boundaries very seriously, but you need to be very straightforward about them. So if it happens that you two get into a topic he doesn’t know is touchy for you, he might say something that comes off insensitive. And yes, he will ask you as soon as he sees the change in your expression, but the lack of tact doesn’t mix well with you already being upset, and you end up just walking away.

Only then he stops talking, freezing up completely. He can tell, that you probably want some space now, and he’ll honor that— but the whole thing doesn’t leave his mind for hours. He has no clue of when he should go look for you to try to talk and apologize, no clue of how he should even word it all when he doesn’t know what he did wrong. His heart shatters when he sees you sleeping on the couch.

He probably asked Jamil for advice, then heard that he should really give you your space, but he just can’t take it. You get shaken awake and he’s tearing up while he apologizes, saying he really didn’t mean to make you upset, that he’ll do his best to be more careful if you tell him just what went wrong, but also that you don’t need to talk right now if you don’t want— He’s a little clumsy, and very emotional, but you know he means well, and that he loves you very much, which he’ll be sure remind you of over and over again.

𐙚 Vil Schoenheit

It’s no secret that he can really nag people, but Vil really doesn’t like to actually argue— He’ll say it every time a disagreement or misunderstanding starts to get tense. Partially a self-reminder, he’s aware that he doesn’t have nearly as much patience as he would like to. It can take a decent amount of effort to keep himself in check.

You two do successfully compromise very often, but sometimes even his suggestions can come off very harsh. It’s no secret to anyone who knows him. His peacemaking attempts are still pretty blunt, and his opinions are never held back. It can easily get upsetting, going as far as feeling like he’s judging you even though he’s not.

Vil actually takes a moment to tell that he might have said the wrong thing. He’s not so proud he’ll refuse to admit his own mistakes, but he’s just… used to upsetting people. You can outright leave mid conversation and it still won’t be his gut reaction, he always believes whatever he’s saying and only wants the best for you. It can take a good few moments until he realizes you’re not just “sulking” the way his underclassmen at the dorm do when he scolds them. Finding you asleep on the couch can honestly shock him.

He won’t wake you up right away— It’s still important for you to get your rest, and he wants to really think about what happened before he says anything— but there’s no way he’ll let you spend the night there. His voice is really soft when he calls your name, waiting for you to gather yourself before he tells you he’s sorry. Gently reassuring you in whatever you need while he explains himself, he’ll make sure everything is okay before he touches you at all, wrapping you up into a hug when everything is finally settled.

𐙚 Idia Shroud

He’s freaking out, full stop. He didn’t even think he’d ever get far enough with someone to be in this position. Since when does he even have the audacity to argue with a partner he never even believed he’d get? Whatever he did, he wholeheartedly believes he screwed up big time.

...And even though it’s his anxiety talking first, he might actually be right. He’s usually really passive, doesn’t even voice disagreements beyond maybe just whining about not wanting to go somewhere with a lot of people. And even then, he might be willing to try, just for you — So what went wrong? Probably a messy misunderstanding, where he said a lot of things he doesn’t mean…

He’s honestly just expecting it to be over. Believing that you’re going to block all his socials and never speak to him again. The second you walk away, the only thing in his mind is the absolute worst, so when he sees you on the couch he’s… relieved? But just for a second. It means there’s still hope for him! You would have just disappared if you wanted nothing to do with him, right? But he also recognizes the trope, he knows he’s going to need to work to be forgiven—

Idia is just standing there when you wake up. Pacing around the living room and losing his mind. He gets startled when he sees you’re awake, like he’s terrified of what will come next. At least he’s had (more than) enough time to think about what happened… the apology you get is very much sincere, even if it gets rambly at certain parts, ending with the two of you comforting each other.

𐙚 Malleus Draconia

For obvious reasons, things can get tricky with Malleus. Whenever you feel like you’re really starting to understand him, something strange will happen again, it’s a real cycle. All the factors in his upbringing connect with each other to build a very specific kind of character. Even if it looks like you two are really similar, there’s going to be a minimum of a handful of details that just change everything.

He’s always careful with his words, with basically no exception, but sometimes he just doesn’t know what the “right” thing to say would be, or he doesn’t know what a certain cue could mean in the moment, or whatever he knows is something that doesn’t apply outside of specific context of the royal family he’s a part of— The possibilities are endless, but a lot of the time, it’s more likely that things will just chalk up to the fact you don’t understand each other’s perspectives.

He might notice something is off right away, he might think nothing wrong happened at all, it can be wildly different depending on the topic at hand. He’ll ask what’s wrong if he does notice, but even if you do try to explain to him why you’re hurt, it may not make sense inside his head right away. And even though he’s genuine and fast to apologize, it can feel cold when he clearly can’t tell what’s actually wrong.

When he walks by the couch you’re asleep on, it doesn’t even register as being related to the argument right away. He shakes you awake to tell you it’s not a good idea to sleep there because it gets really cold later in the night. Right now, he’s had enough time to process and understand the situation, quickly giving you a new, truly heartfelt apology. Even if in the whole thing, in retrospect, was a pretty minor issue — And if it isn’t, or you’re just not ready to forgive him yet for whatever reason, he doesn’t push it. The only thing he’ll insist on is having you sleep somewhere more comfortable, really.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Regret |3|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: Murder, Gunshots, Knife Wounds

Word Count: 2.8k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You watched the TV in horror as the news reporter continued to go on about a murder that had taken place earlier in the night, seemingly by Ghostface. You really hoped this was all just a coincidence, you were never that lucky though. You looked over at Tara, despite your argument earlier, your hand instantly found hers when the news came on, almost as if it were natural. If Ghostface was really back then you didn’t care what kind of psycho took up the mantle this time around, you vowed to never let anyone hurt Tara ever again and you intend to honor that.

“Did you know them?” You asked when a picture of two boys who went to college with Tara was shown on screen.

“Yeah,” Tara said mindlessly. She got a little crinkle in her brow, which you always found adorable. “They’re in my film class.”

You furrowed your brow; it seemed the two boys on screen killed one of their professors and had a shrine dedicated to Ghostface. You weren’t sure if those kids were just big fans of the movies and when they saw Tara in their class, they decided to live out some sick fantasy or if they planned it. You wouldn’t put it past one of those psychos who thought it was okay to dress up like a serial killer to stalk the survivors of past attacks and follow them wherever they moved, going so far as to enroll in college with their intended victim.

Whatever the boys’ plans was didn’t matter anymore, considering someone had killed them as well. There didn’t seem to be a lot of info on the two kids’ deaths, but the media seemed to think it was the work of Ghostface. You weren’t sure that had ever happened before, different Ghostface competing against each other. Most Ghostface seemed to work with a partner, even if said partners eventually tried to kill each other they never started off on different sides.

If another Ghostface was out there and actually did kill those kids, you wondered what their play was. You weren’t sure what the plan of the college kids was either, but the shrine seemed to indicate they were just some psycho fans. This other Ghostface though, he could be anyone, if he killed the two boys who seemed intent on taking over the mantle then it was probably because he had something bigger planned. It was still yet to be decided if the new guy had an ego and just didn’t want the competition or if he didn’t want what seemed to be a couple of amateurs getting in his way.

“He was weird,” Tara whispered, breaking you out of your thoughts. “But he was nice.”

Your gaze softened at her words, you knew how hard it was for her to make new friends. You and Sam might have been a tad bit protective of Tara, so much so that Sam wouldn’t let anyone new come into the apartment without being vetted first. Anika was the first exception, even before Ethan, who was chads roommate. It was a long process, usually involving a lot of questioning and Sam glaring. Tara hadn’t met anyone who was willing to put up with that yet though, anyone she talked about from school seemed to just be people she met in class and chatted with.

You never even bothered trying to make new friends, which maybe said more about you than anything, but you weren’t about to wander down that path. Anika seemed to be the exception though, she was Mindy’s girlfriend but always made sure to include you. You weren’t sure how much you’d classify Anika as a friend, it wasn’t like the two of you hung out just the two of you, but she was nice and didn’t seem to have any judgment or opinion about you already formed, you didn’t have to fight for her approval or prove that you were good enough for Tara with her.

“We need to leave,” Sam said, once again breaking your thoughts and what was otherwise an uneasy silence. “Pack your bags.”

“What?” Tara yelled, whipping around to face her sister. “No.”

“We can pick up Chad and Mindy on the way out of town.” You had to give it to Sam for trying to sell the idea, but she should have known that would never work with Tara.

“You can’t do this to me.”

“Tara-”

“No! We don’t even know if this is connected to us.” Tara looked back at you for some support and you opened your mouth, but no words came out. You would always support Tara, no matter what, but even you didn’t believe in coincidences this much. There was a flash of hurt on Tara’s face when you didn’t say anything, making you drop your eyes to the floor.

“Can’t we make sure this is actually him,” Tara pointed at the TV, which was now showing a picture of a Ghostface costume. “Before you completely uproot my life and derail my college education.”

You all jumped and spun around at the sound of a door creaking open. You released a shaky breath when you saw it was just Quinn. She stumbled out of her room, her robe clearly hastily thrown on, she was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with one hand while the other held out a phone to Sam.

“My dad wants to talk to you,” Quinn mumbled sleepily.

“I gotta go,” Sam said to whoever she was talking to before. “Stay together, stay safe, and don’t trust anyone.” You let out a small hum, she had most likely been talking to Mindy or Chad, which hopefully meant they were together, at least that way they’d stand a chance if Ghostface really was back.

Sam cautiously took the phone from Bailey and brought it to her ear. “Detective Bailey?” She asked, almost as if she didn’t fully believe that Quinn’s dad would be on the other end.

You watched Sam as she listened to whatever detective Bailey was telling her; you could see the way Sam’s frown only deepened with his words. “Okay,” she said. “I’m on my way.” With that she hung up and handed Quinn back her phone.

“What did he say?” Tara asked. Sam didn’t answer as she made her way across the room. “Is Ghostface back?” Sam grabbed her keys from the table by the door and began to slip on her jacket. “Where are you going?” Tara followed after her sister, and you followed after Tara.

“Detective Bailey needs me to come to the station,” Sam finally stopped and answered her sister. “He said they found my ID at the crime scene.” Sam let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair, you couldn’t imagine how exhausting this all was for her.

You didn’t even want to begin to imagine what it meant that Sam’s ID was found at the crime scene. You remembered when Sam lost her ID, she had to spend nearly the whole day at the DMV to get a new one. The two kids could have gotten her ID for some reason, they had class with Tara, but they never had access to the apartment. That meant whoever the new Ghostface was somehow stole Sam’s ID without her ever knowing, whether that was by getting into the apartment or snagging her wallet while she was at work you didn’t know.

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Tara said, grabbing her own jacket.

“No,” Sam said, holding up her hand to keep Tara from following. “You’re staying here.” Sam glanced past Tara at you, silently begging you to agree with her and try and convince Tara to stay.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times and gave Sam an apologetic shrug. “I’ve never had much luck going off solo,” you said. The first time you left Tara’s side last year someone was killed right outside of your place of work, then the second time you yourself were attacked in your own apartment, and then there was the time you and Tara were left at the hospital. If you took anything away from the attacks last year it was that splitting up was never a good idea.

“Safety in numbers, yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam rolled her eyes as she ran a hand through her hair. “Fine,” Sam groaned. “But don’t leave my side,” she pointed her finger at Tara, giving her a knowing look.

You waited for Tara to agree to Sam’s terms, which she quickly did, though not without an eyeroll. The three of you left the apartment, with Sam making sure to lock all the locks and triple checking that everything was in fact locked. Sam didn’t seem to be wasting any time as she rushed down the several flights of stairs, with Tara right behind her and you doing your best to not fall behind.

As soon as you got out into the night you looked both ways, like you always did when you left the apartment. You weren’t even sure what time it was; you had no idea how much sleep you got, all you knew was that the sky was still dark and there were still people walking around.

You stayed close to Tara as Sam led the way. Sam slowly came to a stop and pulled out her phone. You furrowed your brow as you got closer and looked at Sam questioningly when you saw the name on the screen.

“What the hell,” Tara whispered.

“I never deleted his number,” Sam mumbled.

“Ignore it,” you said. You didn’t need to hear Ghostface’s voice over the phone to know he was back, the fact that Sam’s very dead boyfriend was calling her was proof enough for you.

Sam elected to ignore you and swiped to answer the phone. You held in your eye roll, no one ever listened to you, you should have really been used to it at this point. You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation once again, but you watched Sam pace back and forth as she threatened whoever this new guy was.

You caught a blur of movement out of the side of your eye, you didn’t wait to see what it was, you just grabbed Tara and yanked her back. You hissed as you felt something slice across your arm. You quickly pulled your arm away, already seeing a stream of blood pouring down your arm.

Your eyes widened when you turned and saw Ghostface raising their knife again. He never got a chance to swing it at you though because Sam dealt a harsh kick to their stomach, then pushed him to the ground. “Run!” she called out.

The three of you took off down the street, not waiting around for him to recover. “There!” Sam pointed at a little bodega at the corner of the street.

The three of you ran across the street, ignoring traffic laws in the process. You didn’t look back, but you were sure Ghostface was already up and chasing after you again. Sam ripped open the door to the bodega, not bothering to apologize as she pushed the patrons that were standing in line back.

“You need to call the police,” Sam said.

There was a lot of shouting and arguing, the customers pushing their way back into line. Everyone went silent when a second later the door was flung open and Ghostface was standing there. You pushed Tara behind you and began nudging her backwards, further into the bodega. One of the men that was standing in line tried standing up to Ghostface, you weren’t sure if he was that confident or if he truly had no idea what he was getting into.

Ghostface didn’t bother entertaining the man though as he quickly swiped his knife across the man’s neck. The owner of the bodega whipped out a shotgun from underneath the counter and aimed it at Ghostface.

“Back here!” Sam called out. You glanced back to see Sam was running to the door at the back of the building. You and Tara followed after her but were quickly stopped as the door was locked. “Keys!” Sam ran back towards the owner, who instantly tossed her the keys.

You stood behind Tara, with Sam in front of her as she tried to unlock the door. You kept your eyes on the commotion at the front of the store. The owner had fired a couple shots, but Ghostface seemed to have ducked behind one of the shelves while the customers all ran out to where it was safe.

“Dammit,” you heard Sam whisper.

You spared a glance back to see her struggling with the lock. You looked back in front of you just as the owner came around the counter and was grabbed by Ghostface. Ghostface quickly overpowered the man, flipping the shotgun around and not hesitating to pull the trigger.

“Move!” you said, grabbing Tara and Sam and pulling them to safety just as Sam got the door unlocked.

You pushed the two of them to the ground, quickly crawling around the shelves as Ghostface fired a few more shots. You raised your hands, trying to cover your head as debris from the shelves fell on you. After going down a few rows you quickly slid behind one of the shelves, the three of you holding your breath and pressing your backs against it.

You glanced to the side, using the holes in the shelf to sneak a peek at Ghostface. You saw him round the corner, his boot crunching the shattered glass on the floor. You quickly pulled your head back and glanced at the girls, Tara was shaking on the floor next to you, you couldn’t help but slide your hand across the floor and intertwine your pinky with hers.

You looked past Tara and met Sam’s eyes. You used your hand not holding Tara’s to point in the direction Ghostface was. Sam nodded and as quietly as she could she reached across the floor a picked up a can. She raised a finger to her lips, and you nodded, giving Tara’s hand a tight squeeze to make her look up at you. You gave her what you hoped was a comforting smile and nodded to follow Sam’s lead.

You waited for Sam’s signal; you tried not to let the fact that all you could hear was Ghostface’s footsteps distract you. You winced and looked down, remembering the cut on your arm, there seemed to still be a nice stream of blood, which was quickly pooling on the ground between your and Tara’s hands.

Sam gestured for you to move. You held in a groan as you got into position, crawling on the floor across broken glass and other debris was not good for your knee. Tara glanced back at you, and you didn’t miss the worry in her eyes, so you gave her a reassuring nod. Then you gave Sam a nod to show that the two of you were ready.

Sam rolled the can under the shelf towards the back of the store. As soon as the noise of the can rumbled against the floor Ghostface fired the gun again. The three of you took the opportunity to run, keeping your heads down below the shelving.

You were about to round the corner of the shelf when you peaked over the top of the shelf, seeing Ghostface turning in your direction. “Down!” you called out, watching as the sisters dropped to the floor.

You dropped to the floor as well, groaning at the strain it took on your knee. You landed on your back and could see the boots of Ghostface as he made his way down the aisle. You shot up from the floor, ignoring the shooting pain in your knee and threw your body into the shelf, tipping it over onto Ghostface.

“Come on!” Sam called out.

You pushed yourself off the shelf, hopping and wincing at the pressure on your knee. You tensed when you felt a hand wrap around your side but instantly relaxed when you realized it was Tara. You put an arm around Tara as she helped you walk out of the bodega. By the time the three of you got outside the police cars were pulling up.

You leaned on Tara as you tried to take the weight off of your knee. It seemed that Ghostface was truly back, and this one had no problem killing anyone who got in his way. You didn’t face this Ghostface head on, but he carried himself different than Amber or Richie ever did, he handled the shotgun almost effortlessly, whoever this guy was, it was clear he knew what he was doing.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998 @btay3115 @idontliketoread2137 @nwestra

@honorarysimp @canyonyodeler @chxrry-lov3 @aceofspades190 @worstendingever

[chosove]

*tw!!! daddy kink!!! + a lotttt of size kink stuff!!! fem bodied reader*

I know he gets such a like…almost ‘selfish lover’ rep but in my humble daddy issue biased opinion, toji would 100% talk you through it like…

Everyone already finds him so intimidating, if not from his stature and general appearance, its his gruff voice and combative personality. He doesnt even mean to do it, he just always has that trademark scowl on his face that makes people afraid to say excuse me in grocery stores :(

Not you though, you still served him with your bright smile as he checked out of the store. You asked how he was and giggled at his flirty response of ‘why, ya wanna make my day better?’. I mean…other than his kids he never had people willingly make small talk with him, let alone laugh at his old man jokes.

Godddd he just gets so flustered when you look at him with your big doe eyes and say have a fantastic day :(

Thats why when he sees you on the dating app megumi downloaded for him (against his will), he feels his heart skip a beat. I just know he’s all nervous, thinking how dirty he is as a self proclaimed ‘old man’ finding such a pretty young thing attractive- i mean you could literally be his daughter. All these worried thoughts flitted through his head while he tried to decide, not realizing his thumb was just a littttttlllleeeee too close to the screen as he accidentally matched with you.

Oh.

Oh.

I mean it was an accident for him, but was it an accident for you? It couldnt be if you were texting him already, a message reading “hey there stranger :)” popping up on his phone.

And when you liked his simple response of “Hello.”, responding with “anything i can do to make your night better, toji?”, that couldnt just be a typo or misclick, right?

You made him feel like a teenager again, the butterflies he felt only becoming more intense when you asked him to come over n’ tell you in person :( he nearly jumped out of his skin trying to get ready, hands fumbling with that pinstripe button-up he’d been saving for something special (gumi’s grad or….i guess his first date in forever). It was only at times like this he wished he had someone to call to help him chill out.

Maybe after tonight that’d be you though? He hoped so at least, and even when you pulled him into your apartment, pushing him on the couch while he stuttered about getting to know each other first, he knew you were the girl for him.

It did take a while for him to actually get up to your speed- he didnt wanna break you or anything. You were just so, so desperate for him, tugging at his shirt while you grinded your clothed cunt against his beefy thighs, filthy words coming out of your mouth only making it harder for toji to take it slow with you.

“God you’re so big toji, feel like even jus’ your fingers can split me in half.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you, knew you’d treat me better than all the guys my age. Ya gonna fuck me right toji? Please?”

“C’mon toji…know you wanna breed me, bet it’ll only take one time for me to give you a baby. D’you want that daddy?”

It was no later you said that word that he was picking you up, throwing you onto the tiny mattress your studio apartment held. Yeah, he definitely wasnt getting out of this alive- but neither were you judging by the way his big hands began to unbuckle his belt, unzipping the pants you so graciously left a giant wet stain on, the outline of his cock in his boxers making your mouth water.

“See what ya do to me, pretty?” His deep voice spoke, one hand giving his throbbing dick a few much-needed strokes while he stared down at you like a wolf. “Nothin’ to say anymore, hm? C’mon, i liked hearing it all.”

He hadnt even pressed himself against you before you let out a whine, his hands resting themselves on your sides already being enough to make your hips jump. If it weren’t for the fact he was now intent on hearing more of those pretty sounds from you, he’d have let out a whine himself from how soft your skin felt against his worked hands. And when he slowly pulled your panties down your thighs, clenching his jaw at the sight of strands of wetness sticking to your pussy, he nearly came in his pants.

“Poor girl, bet this sweet pussy hasnt been treated right in forever hm?” The question nearly brought tears to your eyes, both from the truth of it and from the fact he began to thumb at your glistening cunt, the rough pad of his finger being the exact pressure you needed on your pulsing bundle of nerves. “T-toji i might cum alr-”you began, but you werent able to get your sentence out before his hand came down to slap against your cunt.

“What happened to my good girl from earlier? Y’know not to call me toji, little bird. Whats my name?” He whispered against the shell of your ear, fingers covered in your wetness now coming to play with your hard nipples.

Clinging to his shaggy hair like it was your lifeline, you nearly cried out as you came undone for him, the desperate moan of ‘thank you daddy’ falling from your lips. He smiled as you writhed below him, your body convulsing while he let you ride what would be the first of many orgasms that night.

[echo-riot]

✞⛧ Ambessa with a pregnant wife✞⛧

(reciprocal in vitro fertilization)

General headcanons:

✞⛧ Ambessa reacts to the news of your pregnancy with a rare, subtle smile that only you would notice—a glimmer of pride hidden beneath her composed exterior. She nods once, as if this was all part of a carefully laid plan, and assures you that everything will proceed as it should.

✞⛧ Despite her usual stoic demeanor, she takes an active role in ensuring your comfort and safety during the pregnancy. Ambessa’s version of care, however, leans toward efficiency—arranging the best medical attention and security, leaving no detail unattended.

✞⛧ Ambessa surprises you by being more present than you expected. She sits by your side during appointments, her hand resting on yours, an unspoken promise of protection. Her calculating mind shifts slightly—this isn’t just about power or legacy anymore; it’s deeply personal.

✞⛧ Her protective instincts intensify tenfold. Anyone who so much as inconveniences you is met with a chilling glance or a sharp rebuke. Ambessa has no tolerance for anything that could potentially harm you or the child.

✞⛧ At home, she’s pragmatic yet thoughtful. She might not be the type to dote overtly, but you catch her observing you closely, making small adjustments to your surroundings to make things easier—quiet gestures that reveal the depth of her care.

✞⛧ Ambessa’s sense of humor surfaces in the form of dry, sarcastic remarks when you voice complaints about discomfort or cravings. “You’d think someone carrying a Medarda would handle it with more grace,” she’d quip, but there’s a spark of fondness in her eyes as she says it.

✞⛧ When she places her hand on your growing belly for the first time, she doesn’t say much, but her gaze softens ever so slightly. “They will be strong,” she finally murmurs, her tone laced with determination and pride.

✞⛧ Ambessa involves herself in planning the child’s future, meticulously selecting tutors, allies, and strategies to ensure they will thrive. While she respects your opinions, she makes it clear that this child will embody the strength and ambition of both their mothers.

✞⛧ As the pregnancy progresses, Ambessa becomes slightly more vulnerable around you in private moments, allowing glimpses of her hopes and fears. She confides in you about her desire to raise a child who will not only inherit the Medarda legacy but also surpass it.

✞⛧ Despite her pragmatic nature, she indulges you occasionally—whether it’s bringing you that obscure craving or sitting by your side late at night when you can’t sleep. “Don’t get used to it,” she’d say, though the warmth in her voice betrays her words.

✞⛧ Ambessa’s relationship with her own family has always been complicated, but she expresses a deep desire to be better for your child, vowing to create a legacy built not just on strength but also on purpose.

✞⛧ When the day finally comes, Ambessa is a calm yet commanding presence by your side, her hand gripping yours with unshakable resolve. As she looks at your newborn child for the first time, her expression softens in a way you’ve never seen before—a fleeting moment of unguarded love.

✞⛧ Later, as she holds the baby, her voice drops to a low murmur. “Welcome to the world, little one,” she says, her tone reverent yet firm. “You will be a force to be reckoned with.”

How she deals with your pregnancy mood swings:

✞⛧ Ambessa approaches your pregnancy mood swings with the same calculated pragmatism she brings to battle. At first, she’s a bit perplexed by the sudden emotional shifts but quickly deduces it’s a natural part of the process and resolves to handle it efficiently.

✞⛧ When your emotions flare up—be it frustration, tears, or unprovoked anger—Ambessa remains calm and unflinching. “Are you done?” she’ll ask in a dry, matter-of-fact tone, but the way she waits patiently for you to let it all out shows she’s not dismissing you, just giving you space.

✞⛧ She secretly studies your triggers, observing when you’re most prone to mood swings. Ambessa starts subtly adjusting her behavior to avoid unnecessary conflict—never patronizing, but always strategic.

✞⛧ On particularly emotional days, she doesn’t push back when you lash out, though you can tell when she’s holding back a biting retort. “If yelling at me helps, then by all means,” she’ll say, her voice laced with sarcasm, but she still stays close, her presence grounding you.

✞⛧ Ambessa’s sharp sense of humor becomes her weapon of choice to diffuse tense moments. When you burst into tears over something minor, she might smirk and say, “I’ve conquered nations with less drama,” but her tone is light enough to make you laugh through the tears.

✞⛧ On days when your emotions overwhelm you, Ambessa surprises you with her quiet tenderness. She’ll sit beside you, her arm around your shoulders, silently letting you vent or cry. “Let it out,” she murmurs, her voice unusually soft. “You’re strong, but even you need this.”

✞⛧ When your mood swings manifest as irrational demands—like wanting a very specific food at an inconvenient hour—Ambessa doesn’t argue. Instead, she orders someone to take care of it, muttering something about “keeping the peace in the empire.”

✞⛧ Despite her no-nonsense demeanor, Ambessa finds your mood swings strangely endearing. She never says it outright, but you catch her smirking or shaking her head fondly after one of your more dramatic outbursts.

✞⛧ If you ever apologize for your behavior, Ambessa cuts you off with a dismissive wave. “I can handle it,” she says, her voice firm but warm. “You’re carrying my child. It’ll take more than a few mood swings to rattle me.”

✞⛧ In moments of vulnerability, Ambessa reflects on how your emotional fluctuations are a testament to the strength and complexity of carrying life. She may not say it outright, but her actions—her patience, her steady support—reveal the deep respect she has for what you’re enduring.

✞⛧ While she doesn’t indulge every emotional whim, Ambessa knows when to pick her battles. If your mood swings lead to an argument, she’ll stay composed and remind you of her unwavering commitment: “No matter how fierce you get, I’m not going anywhere.”

Out of pocket (?) headcanons:

✞⛧ Ambessa insists on naming the baby something impossibly grand, like Victorion Tyrannus Medarda, even if you’re having a girl. She’ll argue, “Power isn’t defined by gender. Besides, it sounds commanding.” You have to reel her back to reality.

✞⛧ The moment your cravings kick in, Ambessa dispatches a full squad of Noxian soldiers to procure the most ridiculous and obscure snacks. One poor soldier comes back days later with ten different kinds of imported pickles, visibly traumatized from the search.

✞⛧ She declares, very seriously, that your child’s first word will not be something trivial like “mama” or “dada.” She’s determined it will be something like “dominion” or “strength.” She even starts casually repeating these words around you, as if brainwashing the baby in utero.

✞⛧ Despite her high expectations, she starts referring to the baby as “the heir to the Medarda empire” in casual conversation, as if you’re carrying the protagonist of some political drama.

✞⛧ Ambessa commissions a custom suit of armor for the baby before it’s born. “They must be prepared,” she insists, ignoring your exasperated reminders that the baby won’t even be able to hold its own head for months.

✞⛧ One night, you catch her standing in front of a mirror practicing “inspiring” speeches for the baby’s future. The best part? She’s holding a wine glass as if it’s a baby, cradling it while proclaiming, “You will conquer the weak and rise above all.”

✞⛧ The moment you suggest a softer name for the baby, Ambessa counters by drafting an entire PowerPoint presentation on how strong names influence perception and leadership potential. The presentation includes battle-tested statistics.

✞⛧ Ambessa fully believes your child is going to come out of the womb ready to fight. She casually muses, “Perhaps their first toy should be a dagger. Start them early.” You nearly choke on your drink while yelling, “No, Ambessa. It will be a rattle!”

✞⛧ At one point, she seriously asks if you’d be interested in holding a “trial by combat” among the most loyal Medarda retainers to determine the child’s godparent. You’re 90% sure she’s not joking.

✞⛧ When your belly starts showing, she smirks and jokingly calls you her “most powerful weapon.” When you glare at her, she clarifies, “I mean, you’re carrying my heir. That’s power, my love.” You still throw a pillow at her.

✞⛧ Ambessa casually suggests painting an enormous Medarda family crest on the nursery ceiling to “instill loyalty” in the baby. It takes you weeks to convince her that maybe stars would be a better choice.

✞⛧ After feeling the baby kick for the first time, Ambessa stares at your belly with wide eyes, muttering, “A warrior already.” Then she leans closer, whispering, “Good. We’ll conquer together.”

✞⛧ During one hormonal meltdown, you start crying about a completely ridiculous scenario (“What if they don’t like me as their parent?”). Ambessa, completely out of her depth, awkwardly pats your head and says, “If they don’t like you, they’re fools and unworthy of the Medarda name.” You cry harder, though this time it’s from laughter.

[sentientthing]

Reader adopts a big fluffy dog that's very opinionated, when and where walks happen is entirely the dogs decision. It's a good dog, perfectly pleasant but thick headed as a bull. Demands pets with authority a dog has no business having.

They love that mutt, got it from a shelter and doesn't have the heart to take charge when being a bit bossy is the only 'misbehavior' the dog ever shows, until it's walkie time in the middle of the night, new moon and cloudy, pitch black. Resigned you get the harness, leash and treat bag and bundle up. In a hurry to get the head of the house their wish you forget any kind of light, left your phone on your bedside table when you heard the grumbles of demands.

It seems to be a night for adventure, leash pulled taught in a direction you've never even walked by daylight and nose glued to the floor. The gates to a park at least let you know where you're going, not that you recognize the name, its far out of your usual range especially in the middle of the night. You cope by clinging to the 'scary dog privilege' even though the mutt never showed an ounce of aggression towards anything.

Looking around to not get caught off guard by a malicious stranger you miss your dog perking up, fixating a direction and taking off, the "STOP" leaves your mouth the second your body is jostled but its no use. You're dragged across the park, thankfully mostly grass but it still hurts. Digging your feet in is no use, hopelessly outmatched by the dog the shelter told you was perfectly sized for you. "Manageable my ass you stupid dog stop running!", you scream no care for time of day when you come to an abrupt halt, sliding a little on the muddy ground until someone grabs the leash and is immediately crowded by the traitor. All wags and tip taps, it'd be adorable if you weren't on your ass god knows where thanks to him.

"Bad dog thief if you can't even train one.", you can't place the tone, or read the strangers face through his balaclava. Thief? You would never steal someones beloved pet. "Fuck you, I'm no thief. He's from a shelter, if I wanted a free dog I'd get a stray." The amount of awkward eye contact that followed made your skin crawl, you shivered in discomfort from your mud caked clothes to the scary stranger starring you down. Was he not going to react at all? Your attitude had always been your biggest flaw. Why couldn't the floor just open up and swallow you whole? You were going to die for mouthing off for sure, or worse. "C'mon boy, home.", he was looking at you but definitely talking to the dog, voice even as he yankes you up by the leash and herds you after the dog happily trotting the way it came. Oh no, your dog was going to YOUR home, backtracking through the park, mindful of the grooves he, or rather you, left. Caring about tripping you now, between treating you like a crash dummy and a lamb to the slaughter.

The streetlights flickered back on one by one, the silent man at your back cast eerie shadows over you every time you passed one. You could barely breath, fear clogged your throat, choking you. Running was out of the question, he would catch you, no doubt in your mind. You didn't dare think about what your- well, his dog really would do. He might even be trained to bite, maul you to bits for the crime of displeasing his master. Tears threatened to spill over your lashes at the thought, you blinked them away as hard as you could, whatever he thought of you now wouldn't be improved by turning into a sobbing mess. No crying about whatever this was, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you dissolve, if he wanted to he would crush you either way.

Your front door looked like a guillotine, the slanted window that once charmed you now made your stomach turn. You fumbled with the keys, hands shaking in helplessness. When they slipped your grasp, a gloved hand reaches out from behind you and catches them, palm up, the keys to your doom cradled in the hand of death. Slowly, you lifted your hand to take the keys back. The thought to stab him with them crossed your mind, but you had no follow-up. You stretched your fingers towards the house key. The next moment, you were crowded against the door and heard the keys jingle. The hinges protest when the door swung open. Unsteady legs carry you inside, mechanically taking off the harness and hanging the gear up in the dog corner.

The door clicks shut, and you refuse to acknowledge it in any way. Frozen in place, no useful thoughts in your head, your mind was screaming to do something anything at all. Time trickled by you in slow motion, for the first time you heard footsteps that weren't yours on your living room floor, the clicky noise of dog paws soon followed. Sounds from the kitchen startle you back into thought. That's where your knives are. He could take the damn fridge for all you cared right now, but you were not getting stabbed by knives you had picked out and paid for without a fight.

The sound of water hitting something metal had you confused, that weirdo did not follow you home to fill his dogs water bowl, that would be insane, and yet a few seconds later the water is being gobbled up loudly.

Something fills with water again, you're still looking at the slow swinging leash on the hook.

The stove beeps, the glasstop clinks quietly, something was placed on it.

Nails on the floor tell you the dog is scampering towards you, probably dripping water all the way. Soft fur brushes your fingers accompanied by the wet nose and tongue licking your hand. "You broken, pet?", leaning against the wall as nonchalant as the question he asked. The nickname had you glancing at the dog for a second before it clicked - this fucking guy dragged you around on a leash and called you pet like it was a normal thing to do.

You turned to give him a piece of your mind, freezing again when you saw him in the light. He'd been scary outside, dressed entirely in dark clothes and towering over you like a bad omen. In the light he looked downright terrifying, the skull print balaclava blending with his eye black, equally dark eyes looking at you with a bored expression, you had to guess. Good thing you hadn't tried anything, he looked perfectly able and willing to really hurt you. Not like how your bruised body ached from being dragged, real agony that would rip through you and fray every nerve you had. You were once again starring at each other, him waiting for a reply and you desperately trying to keep it together, whether you'd laugh or cry or attack him you didn't dare guess but something was boiling over.

The kettle whistles - you burst into a fit of nervous giggles.

[celesteleoves]

Izuku waking up to reader baking at 3 am, (anything of ur choice) . He ends up staying and helping them bake! And they sleep at his dorm after their baking shenanigans.. ^^

“RISES THE MOON…”

ೃ࿐ izuku midoriya x reader

summary: what the ask says!

disclaimers: established relationship, mentions of one for all, reader bakes as a way to distract themselves, maybe ooc izuku? he trains sm that’s why he’s tired 24/7 😭 so short 😞. i wrote this at 2 am pls cut me some slack.. I DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS. I REPEAT I DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS!

—-

training is gruesome. it often leads to izuku passing out on the floor in his room or collapsing on the edge of his bed before even making it under his blanket.

it also leads to him waking up numerous times during the night, one for all also contributing to that. his adrenaline really never wears off, he’s constantly on edge. he can never rest peacefully when he’s left alone with his thoughts.

which then leads to the current situation. izuku sat on the floor, rubbing his eyes. he groans while stretching his sore muscles.

turning towards his desk, he checks the time.

“3:00 AM?!” izuku gasped at the hour. his eyes bulging out of his head. he’s wide awake now.

stumbling off of the floor, he decided he’s going to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

-

the journey to the kitchen was god awful. izuku wasn’t sure how many times he tripped over his own feet or smashed into a wall from still being slightly tired.

he cursed himself as he smashed into the kitchen door. it flew open with a bang as a delicious aroma spread across the room.

“what the…” he rubbed his cloudy eyes once more, looking around the dim light room.

“izuku, why are you up?”

his eyes lit up at the sound of your voice. he stood straighter, rubbings his eyes once more (so quickly he let out a quiet “ow..” after poking one).

“ah! sorry… i didn’t know you’d be here.”

you smiled at the sight of his soft eyes as he turned to look at what was on the kitchen counter. he navigated around you, placing his hands on your hips to move towards the baking items that were strewn across the kitchen counter surface. your heart fluttered at the feeling of his cold hands on your skin.

“what’re you making?” he tilted his head and leaned over all the products, trying to figure them out.

you sheepishly rubbed your hands on the apron you wore, suddenly feeling nervous about his opinion on the food you were making. “banana bread… you don’t have to have it.”

“what? of course i’m gonna have some!” izuku reassuringly placed a calloused hand around your wrist, guiding it away from your clothes so you don’t get dirty. you appreciated the gesture, fondly nodding your head and smiling.

“okay, then get to work.” you jokingly said, not expecting your boyfriend to instantly start helping you make the banana bread. your jaw dropped as he finished creaming together ingredients quicker than you ever could’ve. his fast learning skills were a trait that you admired and were silently envious of.

you hummed in appreciation as you moved towards other ingredients. handing them to your boyfriend to stir.

he went fast and worked with ease as he soon finished mixing together everything you needed while you grabbed a pan and greased it. izuku couldn’t help but stare as he leaned against the counter while waiting for you to finish, arms crossed and eyes staring at you with so much adoration. you looked over your shoulder as you placed the pan into the oven, eyebrows raising in question.

his face flushed as he realized you caught him staring. suddenly, his mouth felt dry. izuku was never one to be quiet, until he was in your presence. you left him speechless with your beauty.

he walked towards you and embraced you in a tight hug. the soreness from his muscles disappearing immediately. he softened at the feeling of your warm hands wrapping around his torso, moving up and down as you massaged his back.

you tilted your head to look at the oven, there were only a few minutes left on the timer. thank god, you’re sure izuku could just fall asleep like this.

the kitchen is momentarily filled with silence, the tranquility of the night comforting you two as you rock back and fourth. the small tuffs of izuku’s hair tickled against your neck, eliciting a giggle, your laughter caused a lazy grin to appear on your boyfriends face.

ding!

the sound of the oven made izuku jump slightly and you cooed while slowly pulling yourself away from his hold to get towards the food.

with a small grin forming on your face, you examined the food in front of you and almost squealed. it looked so-

“amazing! it looks amazing. call me a chef.” izuku grinned as he looked over your shoulder at the food. you snorted at his words.

“alright, let’s not forget the last time you burnt chicken nuggets and almost blew up the kitchen.”

your boyfriends jaw dropped and you had to bite back a smile at his expression.

“that was a low blow!” your boyfriend whined as he followed you around the kitchen as you placed the baked good on a plate.

izuku quickly took a piece of the banana bread, wincing as it was still hot from the oven. you analyzed his expression as he put the food in his mouth.

you furrowed your brows, his expression pinched and so concentrated it made you nervous. “so? how is it?”

izuku then smiled and you grinned, he liked it! thank god because if he didn’t you’d drop to your knees and cry.

“so good… can we go to bed though?”

“i was waiting for you to say that.”

izuku laughed a little at your words and started tugging you along with him to his dorm. you walked behind him silently, admiring him. you admired the way his hair was ruffled and unkempt seeing that he came straight from his training nap to bake with you. you frowned, realizing he woke up to spend time with you when he could’ve been getting sleep he desperately deserved.

“shh, you’re gonna wake up one of the boys. you know bakugou has insane hearing!” you scolded your boyfriend after realizing he was mumbling to himself the whole walk back to his dorm.

he rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh at his sassiness, he seemed to always get like that when he just wants to be near you and sleep.

you shut his door behind him, locking it as you watched your boyfriend dive onto his bed and beckon you towards him.

you followed suite and snuggled up against his chest as he laid on his back with his arm wrapped around your shoulder like he was your personal pillow. to be honest… he is. you could almost feel yourself being lulled into a sleep until you felt izuku tapping your nose.

confused, you looked up at him only to see him holding your phone. when did he get that?

“huh?”

“reminder. set a alarm for six o’clock so you don’t get caught in here, it’ll be bad if you���re leaving when kacchan is up and ready for his workout.”

you sighed, grabbing your phone and setting a timer as izuku slipped you both under the covers. you threw your phone onto his nightstand and let out a breathe of relief, grateful to finally be in your boyfriends arms after a long day.

izuku felt the same as he admired your sleeping face, grateful to be able to hold you another day. being with you here almost felt like all the soreness and exhaustion he has felt for weeks is gone in a blur. he only feels peace and tranquility when he is with you. and he couldn’t be more grateful for that.

thank god for your cooking skills!

—

a/n: well… it’s been a while. hey divas! sorry school has genuinely been KICKING MY ASS. i’ve had 3 exams smh 😔 pleaseeee cut me some slack!! anyways ily all sm and i hope u enjoy this work that’s been sitting in my drafts for months..

[sjsmith56]

You Know You Love Me

Summary: Bucky drives another member of the Avengers crazy with his teasing of her, and the non-stop women that he dates.

Length: 3.4 K

Characters: Bucky, unnamed and undescribed fem!reader

Warnings: Cursing, Bucky being insufferable, condescension, interference in reader’s dating life

Author notes: Avenger AU; Thanos never happened in this universe.

There were times when Bucky Barnes could be really irritating. Actually, it was most of the time. Living in the tower with him was like having the most irritating big brother / roommate / overbearing neighbour ever, trying to run your life. The worst moments were when he would say something just to get a rise out of me. He’d say it, then smirk, then the smile would get broader as he watched my reaction, then he would practically laugh when I’d call him on his bullshit. Those perfect teeth would be fully exposed, and I swear there would be a lens flare sparkle effect on them as his eyes crinkled in amusement. It was maddening.

He always had an opinion on everything, from TV shows, movies, favourite foods and especially with what I wore, and shared it whether I wanted to hear it or not.

“Sweetheart, you should wear that blue dress more often on your dates,” he would say, or something similar to it. “It will make your eyes pop.”

“You telling me what to wear, Barnes?” I would answer. “You practically live in your dark jeans and Henleys.”

“That’s because they’re comfortable,” he would reply, with a grin. “After what I went through in my life, I’m entitled to a little comfort in my old age, aren’t I?”

“Eat shit,” would be my response, except I never said it aloud as he was still a man of the 40s and would act all concerned at the language people used, which was rich coming from him, as he swore more than I did.

To be honest, I couldn’t really call him out on his life because he was tortured for most of it, and technically he was a centenarian. But to watch him just grin, with that look he often had after saying something outrageous to me, knowing I was holding my tongue, brought out the worst in me. Of course, the other Avengers would say he obviously liked me because he was normally Mr. Silent and Grumpy with all of them.

“Take the smile,” said Sam. “It’s proof the man has a heart.”

“But it bugs me,” I explained. “Drives me up the wall.”

“That’s why he does it,” smiled the winged man. “He obviously likes you and thinks you can handle it.”

That was the real problem for me; I couldn’t handle his attention, seemingly focused just on me. None of the others got as much scrutiny as I did. It didn’t help that the man was insanely gorgeous, with that thick dark hair, intense blue eyes, a jawline and cheekbones that rivalled those of any Hollywood heartthrob, topped off by an incredible smile. Physically, he was the type of man that women drooled over; tall, broad shouldered, sculpted waist, an ass that filled out his jeans so well, and thighs that gave me all sorts of thoughts. Which was another reason why I did my best to ignore or insult him. You would think I would know that my tactics weren’t working but the alternative to his attention was not getting it and that was unthinkable.

He had lots of female company, based on the number of times he came out of his room in the morning with a different woman for the walk of shame to the elevator. He’d stroke their hair, say how much fun he had, kiss them softly on their lips, then send them on their way, never to be seen again. It hurt, and I didn’t think I could compete against that. Not that I ever really tried.

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy with myself. After falling into that trap of denying myself anything that might stick to my figure, I realized I was playing a sucker’s game. I liked food, I liked enjoying myself, and so what if I wasn’t a perfect size 2. I was perfect the way I was, loved my curves and loved showing them off. Dates weren’t a problem, although second dates weren’t automatic, and third dates were rare. I often wondered why that was.

Somehow, Bucky would always be around when my date was picking me up for the first time. He would lean against a wall, his arms folded, gazing intently at the man who showed up. Occasionally he would speak to them with something along the lines of bringing me home before curfew. They would look at him, then me, to determine if he was kidding. It didn’t help when he said it was part of my “parole conditions.” Even if Bucky started grinning and say he was joking, more often than not those would be the dates that didn’t progress beyond the first one. If I did get asked out again, he would be waiting even nearer to us, almost like a lurking parent.

“Did you remember to take your infectious disease medication?” he would sometimes ask.

“Bucky, you know damn well I’m as healthy as a super soldier.”

“Yeah, now you are,” he’d say, with a straight face. “Gotta stay vigilant. Remember Typhoid Mary appeared healthy.”

The last time it happened, and Bucky said something really outrageous, the guy decided not to follow up with any more dates, so I confronted Bucky the next morning.

“Why are you always interfering in my love life?” I was almost apoplectic in my anger. “You told him I had to be home to tuck the kids in.”

“You can do better than him, sweetheart,” he answered. “If he really liked you, he would have asked to meet the kids. He wasn’t right for you. None of them are.”

I was done with his interference.

“How would you know? When was the last time you had a steady girlfriend?”

“Haven’t found the right one, yet,” he said. “But I get lots of action during the search, so I’m not too concerned.”

“Yeah? Sometimes I wonder if you have your lady friends over here just to make me jealous.” A flicker of something appeared in his eyes and quickly disappeared. I obviously hit a target. “You see me giving your dates the third degree?”

“They know our dates are casual,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I don’t lead them on.” The grin appeared again. “They just want a taste and I’m happy to oblige.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” I was in serious danger of losing it. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to start dragging guys to my bedroom. See how you like it then.”

With what I hoped was dramatic effect I whirled around and stomped away, not looking back. He just made me so angry. What he didn’t know was that I went straight to my room, turned on the TV really loud, then buried my face in my pillow and cried. Cried for letting him bother me; cried for being jealous of the women he brought back; cried for obviously not being someone he saw as worthy of dating. I hated to admit it, but I was in love with him, but I also knew I was nothing like the women he brought back for the night. They were beautiful; tall, graceful, perfect hair and teeth. Even though I liked myself I still felt like I was a 6 compared to their 9s. I didn’t think he would ever think of me as anything other than someone to tease.

It didn’t help that before I came to the tower, I was in a disastrous relationship with a SHIELD agent who was just as handsome as Bucky. He broke my heart when I learned he was cheating on me, and I didn’t want to be put into that position again. I put up all my emotional guards and just did my job. Except Bucky kept chipping away at me. I was tired of it. Did I already say he drove me crazy? This boomeranging between loving him and hating him wore me out.

For a week after that last confrontation, I wouldn’t talk to him. I wouldn’t even stay in the same room with him as I was so mad at myself for loving him. He didn’t bring any women back to his quarters during that week, so I guessed that my words had an effect.

That lasted until I went out to a nightclub with a bunch of college friends that I hadn’t seen in a while. I was dressed to the nines that night, in a slinky dress, cut low in the front and back, showing a lot of leg. I did my hair, wore makeup, nice jewelry … the works. We walked into the place like we owned it, and heads turned as we made our entrance. Drinking and dancing like it was the first day of the rest of our lives, we drew lots of male attention (and some female, as a couple of my girlfriends were lesbians). It was fun and liberating at the same time.

I was on the dance floor, grinding my ass against a guy as we danced when I saw them; Bucky and Sam, sitting at the bar. I couldn’t believe they would follow me. Women were hitting on both and every time I looked Bucky would lean over, whisper something in their ear, then pull back with that sexy smile he had. I was sure he was doing it deliberately. When we finally made eye contact, he lifted his glass to me. What an asshole.

“Who’s an asshole?” asked the guy I was dancing with, raising his voice so I could hear him over the music.

I must have said it out loud.

“Just a guy from work who showed up here,” I yelled back. “He’s always on my case. We had words and I told him off. Now he’s here and I just find his presence annoying.”

“You want me to tell him to leave?” he asked. “I don’t mind.”

Before I could answer he left me on the dance floor and made his way to Bucky. I watched him point back to me then say something. That smirk came out, then Bucky looked at me and shook his head. Working my way off the dance floor I confronted him, swaying lightly as I was definitely under the influence.

“Why are you here?”

“Baby, I just told him to leave,” said my dance partner. “Come on, he’s just being a dick.”

“Seriously, Bucky, why did you follow me?”

He looked at Sam, then at the guy I had danced with, then back at me, sizing me up in a way that made me a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t know you were here. We often hang out here, don’t we Sam? Good booze, nice staff, and great music.”

Sam said nothing, just arched his eyebrows a little. The guy I danced with was getting impatient.

“Bullshit, you hate this music,” I said. “You always go to that jazz place on the east side.”

That smirk twitched at the side of Bucky’s mouth. “How would you know? You been watching me?”

“No,” I answered defensively. “People post pics on Instagram. You’re a celebrity.”

The guy looked at Bucky again then at Sam and his brain suddenly put two and two together.

Bucky scoffed. “Thought I would find out what the appeal with this place is,” he answered, then he looked at the guy who was definitely figuring out he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Gotta say, I’m not that impressed.”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I retorted, trying to appear put together, then losing my balance. He caught me before I tripped over the heels I was wearing. “Thank you. Now, I’m going back to dancing with my friend here. You can just … just … buzz off.”

I waved my hand at him dismissively, then turned back to the dance floor, grabbing hold of the guy’s arm. As I headed back into the throng of dancers with him, I lost my balance again and almost fell, but felt a strong pair of arms catch me up in their arms. It was Bucky.

“Put me down,” I said.

“No, you’re going home,” he answered. “You’ve had enough.”

“She asked you to put her down.” Bucky glared at him.

“You're not my dad,” I slurred. “Or my boyfriend. You don’t get to tell me when I’ve had enough.”

“That’s true,” he answered, still holding me in the middle of that dance floor as the other dancers ignored us. All I could see was that cute cleft in his chin. God, I wanted to lick it. “But I am your friend, and I think you should call it a night.”

It was like the other guy didn’t even exist. Bucky thought he was my friend? Never before had he said that and for some reason, it made me cry. Every time I tried to stop, I couldn’t and I buried my face in his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. Calmly, he carried me off the dance floor to where Sam was, holding my purse and jacket. I still don’t know what happened to the guy I was dancing with, but he didn’t follow us.

“I’ll get the car,” said Sam. “She’s going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“She’ll be alright,” replied Bucky, then he looked at me in a way he never had before. “You really need to know your limit.”

“Are you mad at me?” My voice sounded pathetic, even to me.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not mad.” He was still holding me in his arms. “I’m actually sorry.”

We were waiting at the door now, where it was quieter and the pounding in my head that I knew came from how much I drank began bothering me. He stood me upright for a moment, helping me on with my jacket.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked as he buttoned it up.

He breathed out noticeably. “I went about things the wrong way. I might be over a hundred years old but when it comes to women I like, I forget how to act around them.”

I swayed a little, and he put his arm around me, supporting me.

“Who do you like?”

Sam’s car appeared and Bucky helped me into the back seat, buckling me up. Not that it helped as I wanted to lie down and close my eyes. Sam shrugged as Bucky got into the back seat and put his arm around my shoulders so that I leaned against him. He was so warm, and his arm felt so nice and comforting.

“You smell good,” I murmured. That was the last thing I remembered until we got to the tower.

When we got there, I know that he picked me up like I weighed nothing and held me in the elevator until we reached the residential section. He carried me to my room then I could hear Natasha’s voice. For some reason that made me cry again, but she was so nice, telling me to let it out. I ended up in a T-shirt and shorts, tucked into the bed.

“There’s a glass of water and some pain killers on the nightstand,” she said softly. “Next time you wake up, take them, okay?”

She left me there although I could hear her and Bucky talking in Russian, but not understanding it, I didn’t know what they were saying. I just wanted to sleep, and I did, like the proverbial dead. When I did finally open my eyes, the light hurt, even though the curtains were drawn. I took the painkillers and drank the glass of water, then promptly ran to the bathroom, and brought it all up. As I sat on the floor, holding my head in my hands while I leaned against the bathtub, I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Go away,” I muttered. “Let me die in peace.”

“Were you sick?” It was Bucky.

“No.”

“Sweetheart, I could hear you. Clint could hear you and he wears hearing aids.”

I closed my eyes, then fought the urge to cry. He must have heard that because he spoke again, in a softer tone.

“Please, let me come in.”

“Fine.”

The door opened and he stepped inside. He turned the cold water tap on then filled the glass with water. Lowering himself to the floor, he sat next to me, holding out two new painkillers.

“I’m guessing you didn’t keep the last ones down,” he said. “You really tied one on last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was trying to forget,” I answered, taking the pills and holding them in my hand.

I took the water in my other hand and sipped it. When my stomach felt better, I swallowed the pills and washed them down with more water. Without thinking, I sighed, and put the glass down on the floor, reaching for some toilet paper so I could blow my nose. Bucky said nothing.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m trying to forget?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” he answered, just a little too quickly. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk to you. I kind of got carried away.”

I huffed a little. “Why do you act like you do?”

“No excuse for that,” he answered. “None that are valid, other than making up for lost time. Even that is suspect.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, then scratching his stubble with his fingers, he turned those blue eyes on me.

“I’ve been trying to make you jealous,” he said. “Juvenile I know. I can turn on the charm for most women, but for the one who I really want, I can’t seem to say the right thing. It makes you respond in kind and instead of us getting closer, it just pushes us further apart.”

“You want me? I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? You’re beautiful, smart, and you have a razor-sharp wit that I love. The worst of it is that other guys see it too, so I got a little prehistoric and bared my teeth at them, figuratively speaking. I’m sorry about that. You deserve better.”

“It hurt when you would bring all those women back here,” I said, frowning. “Then you pulled that double standard shit on me, by chasing away my dates.”

“I know. Guilty as charged. No excuses.” He breathed out. “You know how my senses are amplified?” I nodded. “None of them smelled as good as you. That probably sounds weird, but their scents were all chemical and fake compared to you.”

It was weird. “What did I smell like?”

“Home.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

Before I could say anything else, he kissed me, even though my mouth must have tasted of barf. He didn’t care, and it was the best kiss I ever had, making me feel weak and dizzy and aroused all at the same time. Then he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me some more, while putting one hand around to the nape of my neck while the other one wrapped around my body. Just as I was really getting into it, he stopped, then cupped my jaw in his one hand.

“You need to have a shower and brush your teeth.”

“You kissed me,” I countered. “I figured it didn’t matter.”

“It matters. I just wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“Know what?”

“That you know you love me.” That smirk came out, along with the lens flare on those perfect teeth. Just as I was about to argue the point, he kissed me again. “I love you, too and I’ll tell you that in public and private as many times as I can until you believe it.”

He lifted me off of his lap and deposited me on the bathroom floor. Then he stood up and went to the door, looking back at me.

“You’re so cute when you don’t know what to say. I’ll be out here waiting for you.”

He thought I was cute. At my age I would take it. He was right about several things. I did know that I loved him. Now that I knew for sure that he loved me too, it was going to be interesting finding out where that love would take us.

One Shots Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[thewickedbohemian]

thank you, my what-I-thought-was-an-unpopular-opinion about Lysandre being the worst of the evil team bosses (yes, even worse than Ghetsis) is starting to get some more support because yeah if X and Y could be somehow Sliders-ed (word I use for displaced-in-time-but-everything-else-stays-the-same-as-it-could as the parallel worlds in the show Sliders were far more similar than some might argue they ought to be for the ways they were different) into coming out now dude would totally get torn a new one in the discourse

Also a kinda-hilarious thing about your parallel that isn't the schadenfreude kind of hilarious, if Lysandre started the equivalent business ventures of the guy you're saying he's the Pokeworld analogue of (despite the fact that that guy's never really had anything to do with phones or similar electronics to parallel the Holo Casters), your parallel implies his space venture would have been called SpaceY aka dude would have literally named his company "spacey"

In the Pokémon universe Twitter was called Chatter and Lysandre bought it and changed the name to Y

[gracie-eilish]

Peachy🧡✨🍑 pt. 2

an: here she is y'all. i was NOT expecting all the excitement from part one so thank you for that!🥹 that was so exciting to see!! im not used to writing any kind of smut, so please forgive any bumps in the road if you find any🥺 i’m trying over here!🫣🤪 anyways, i hope you like it!!

warnings: smut, fingering (r! receiving)👀, billie being a total flirt cause duh

It had been about a week since you last saw Billie, but for some reason you felt like no time had passed. Because for you at least, you'd subconsciously spent every day with her since that night. Her little flirts and nicknames had been ringing in your mind, making you blush and your heart skip a beat even just thinking about it. In fact, you couldn't even look at a peach without your breath catching. And don't even mention what happend at night when you were alone with your thoughts...

Tonight your friends were all getting together again but this time at Billie's place. You guys all rotated around apartments so it wasn't one person's responsibility to host everyone. You were already in the area so you decided to head over a little early, wanting to return the favor of Billie helping you clean up the other night, hoping you can help set things up tonight.

You gave yourself one last glance in the car's mirror before reaching to open the car door. You stopped yourself remembering your mini perfume in your purse. You spritzed some vanilla and peach scented perfume, your signature scent, onto your pulse points, and a few extra sprays on your neck before tossing the bottle back into your purse and getting out of the car.

You weren't deliberately planning for something to happen tonight... but if something did you wouldn't be mad, your little friendly crush was growing to be not so friendly anymore.

Within seconds of you ringing the doorbell, the door flew open revealing Billie. She had a surprised but sultry smile on her face.

"Hi peach," she said. “You’re here early! D’ya miss me that much?” Her words sent a shiver down your spine and a flush to your face.

You giggled trying to brush it off. “Stop Billie. I wanted to return the favor from the other night and help you get everything ready for tonight!” You said sweetly.

So sweetly it made Billie’s heart start to melt. It was quite obvious to everyone Billie had some kind of feelings for you. And for a while Billie just thought it was her normal kind of crush on a hot girl. But recently she felt the shift too. It was something more and moments like this made it hard for her to keep up the charm.

Well, not that hard.

“God you really are an angel aren’t ya?” She said with a smirk, finally letting you into her apartment. You just giggled and continued down the hallway towards her kitchen, leaving Billie standing in the cloud of sweet peachy perfume you left in the air. Billie inhaled your sweet perfume as she shut the door and leaned back on it for a second before composing herself and making her way to the kitchen.

After a little while, the rest of your friends started to arrive, tearing the two of you apart. But Billie kept her eye on you subtly all night. She just couldn’t get over it.. The way your hair just fell perfectly over your shoulders, and the sweet freckles dotting your nose, and how the sound of your giggle could win grammys in Billie’s opinion, and that god damn sweet peach perfume that was now stuck on every surface in her apartment infiltrating her space like you were infiltrating her mind. And the sweet little looks you gave Billie right back across the room, made more than just her heart throb.

As the night grew on and conversations grew tired, someone suggested putting on a movie. More as background noise but everyone gathered around and snuggled up in their chosen spots.

Naturally Billie patted the spot next to her when you made your way over. But being the flirt she is, Billie pulled you down onto her lap (not that you were complaining), wrapping her arms around your middle as you got comfy.

“You cozy, peach?” You blushed at the nickname. You had just started to get used to the spontaneous “baby” or “mama” but having a nickname all to yourself was kind of driving you wild.

You just nodded, not trusting your voice right now. Billie hummed in satisfaction, smiling before pressing a soft kiss right below your ear making you breath hitch.

As the movie began, Billie pulled you in closer to her, your hands brushing against each other on your tummy.

The movie being a rom-com, provided the perfect backdrop for you and Billie. As the movie went on, and tensions rose, so did the tension between you and Billie. Billie's hand slowly moved under the blanket, her fingers gently brushing against your thigh. The touch was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but it sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You bit her lip, trying to suppress a gasp, as Billie's fingers began to explore, slowly inching upwards.

Billie's touch was deliberate and teasing, making your breath catch in your throat. She knew your friends were just inches away, oblivious to the intimate game unfolding beneath the blanket. The contrast between the innocent movie and your hidden passion was exhilarating. Billie's fingers traced lazy circles on your inner thigh, her touch feather-light and teasing. Your heart raced, and your body tingled with anticipation.

"Can you stay quiet for me peachy?” Billie whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "Mm-hmm." you nodded, unable to properly speak.

“Is this okay?” Billie whispered, even the flirty little minx she was, of course made sure you were okay first. You smiled softly before nodding again, letting her continue.

Her nose nuzzled into your jaw before she pressed a few kisses there. “You always smell so good peachy,” she purred making you let out a breathy, quiet moan. Billie's fingers continued their ascent, slipping under the hem of your shorts, finding the soft lace of your panties.

With expert precision, Billie hooked her fingers into the fabric, slowly pulling it aside, exposing your folds. Your breath hitched as you felt the cool air on her sensitive skin, your body already responding to Billie's touch. Billie's fingers traced the outline of your pussy, teasing the edges, making you squirm under the blanket.

"You're so wet already, for me peach," Billie whispered, her voice dripping with desire. "I love how responsive you are mama." Your cheeks flushed with pleasure and embarrassment, knowing your friends were mere feet away, unaware of the erotic scene playing out beside them. And forget about the fact that of all the ways you thought about hooking up with Billie, this surprisingly was not one of them… not that you minded either way.

Billie's middle finger dipped into your slick heat, eliciting a soft moan that you quickly stifled with a hand over your mouth.

Billie's finger moved in slow circles, massaging your clit, her thumb pressing gently on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body trembled, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to focus on the movie, but Billie's touch was too distracting, too pleasurable. You could feel your juices flowing, coating Billie's finger as she worked her magic.

“You’re doing so good baby love,” she whispered in your ear, pressing another kiss to your neck. “Being such a good girl.. bein’ such a peach.” Her words sent you into overdrive, biting down on your lip so hard you were sure you would draw blood.

As the movie's dialogue filled the room, Billie's finger slid deeper, curling upwards, searching for your sweet spot. Your breath quickened, your body tensing as you fought to keep your moans silent. Billie's thumb continued to rub circles on your clit, her touch firm and relentless. Your hips bucked involuntarily, your body betraying your attempts at control. You turned your head slightly to look at Billie who until you turned your head, looked totally un-phased while watching the movie. As if she wasn’t ravishing her complete dream girl under the blanket.

"Let go f’me, angel," Billie whispered, her voice a soft command. "I want to feel you come around my fingers." Her words were like a spell, pushing you over the edge. It was so good you heard a ringing in your ears.. wait no. You actually were hearing a ringing.

You and Billie looked away from each other towards the sound of the ringing.

Of fucking course it was your phone.

You hit decline, if it was that important they’d call back. You sheepishly apologized and giggled at your phone being so loud right in the middle of the movie. You turned your ringer off with a sigh and settled back into Billie’s lap.

She pinched your clit, sending a jolt through you, you kinda forgot her hand was still in your pants. Giggling, you snuggled back into her and her arms tightened back around you as she started to rub slow circles on you clit, building you back up.

Until your fucking phone rang again.

Well it didn’t ring, but the screen lit up with your siblings contact across the screen again. With a huff you situated your shorts and got up to leave the room to take the call. Billie followed quickly behind, watching you stumble like a baby deer a little bit. She stifled a laugh as you picked up the phone.

“Hello?” You answered with a bite in your voice. Billie came up behind you, snaking her arms back around your waist. She nuzzled her nose on your jaw before kissing the area.

“This better be fucking important,” You groaned into the phone.

🧡✨🍑🫧

an: and with that i would like to formally introduce you to evil gracie hehehe🫣🥰 do you wanna part 3???👀

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tim Through the Years - The Proposal

Series Masterlist (part 10)

Summary: Tim finds the perfect way to propose. 0.9k+ words

Tim has been trying to wrack his brain on how to propose. He found the ring because of Angela and now he doesn’t know how to ask the woman he loves to marry him. Because of the incident when he got the ring, everyone has an opinion on how he should propose, and it’s giving him quite the headache. Lucy has been talking non-stop since she found out and expressed all of the ideas she had. So here he is, hiding in the interrogation room, trying to think of the perfect way to ask. Tim’s phone starts to ring and he answers without looking to see who is calling.

“What?” Tim asks gruffly.

“Hey baby, is this a bad time?” 

Tim freezes; it was you calling him and not Lucy as he thought. “No, not at all, what can I do for you?”

“We’ve been having issues at school of someone stealing other people’s lunches. Today they stole my whole lunch instead of a couple of things. Everything is just gone; would it be possible to bring me some lunch? I really don’t want to eat cafeteria food.” 

“Of course baby, I’ll grab some food from your favorite place”, Tim replies softly. He can tell you’ve been having a rough day just by the sound of your voice.

“Thank you so much! I really appreciate it, I love you! See you soon.” 

“I love you too.”

When your phone call ends, he sees he has a few texts he missed from you earlier. They were pictures of different drawings your students did and they all centered around you and him together. Tim knows that you love your students and they mean the world to you. You always boast about how much your students grow and how proud you are of them. That’s when Tim has the best idea ever.

You slump in your seat after your phone call with Tim. The kids were in the gym before they were going to head to lunch. There has been a lunch thief in the break room and even if you leave your lunch in your classroom, some of it gets stolen. You’ve never had your whole lunch stolen - matter of fact, no one has, so it looks like the thief has stepped up their game. You have your suspicions of who stole your lunch: your coworker Dennis has been causing all sorts of problems. He cheated on his wife with a student's mom, and now he blames his ex-wife for why his kids don’t want to see him. A rumor you were told was that he was a massive alcoholic who took out all his stress on his family, and he had a gambling problem. You want to make a super spicy meal for him to eat so he will stop eating your lunches since Tim puts a ton of effort into making sure you eat a balanced meal every day.

You check the time and see that it is time to pick up your class before lunch so they can grab anything they need. When you walk into your classroom with your students, you see Tim sitting at your desk with your lunch. The class all squeals and runs up to Tim, asking him all sorts of questions. Your class loves it when Tim visits and thinks he’s a superhero. 

“Hey guys, I’m just here to have lunch with your favorite teacher.” Tim has a smile on his face while he talks to your students.

That’s when your class turns to you and declares they want to use their marbles to have lunch with the both of you. You use marbles as a reward system to encourage good behavior, and they can choose what they want within reason.

“How about instead of me taking your marbles, I’ll give you a free pass because you have been so well-behaved today.”

The class cheers and goes to get their lunch stuff, so you send a classroom aide to go with some students who need a hot lunch. Tim hands you your stuff and when the aide returns with your students, you tell her you are going to run to the bathroom and be right back. When you return to your classroom, all your students are suspiciously quiet. Lunch goes smoothly, with you and Tim talking about your guys' day and the students talking amongst their friends and asking questions here and there. Once lunch ends, the students say goodbye to Tim and you kiss Tim on the cheek before telling him you’ll see him at dinner tonight.

It is getting close to the end of the day when the fire alarm goes off, which is weird because there was no drill planned for today. You calmly walk your students outside and do a head count of your students. After a few minutes, police and fire arrive, and all the kids talk about how cool they thought the trucks were. That’s when you heard your name called from one of the police vehicles' microphones.

“Y/N Winchester.”

Everyone grows quiet, and all turn to stare at you. Your students run toward the vehicle, and you run behind them to try and stop them. You freeze because your students are standing behind Tim, who is on one knee.

“Will you marry me?” all your students shout together with massive smiles on their faces.

“Yes!”

[glossykissies]

i think this was like one of the first scott fics u posted but reader was in college for like fashion design? i think 😭 but anyways reader got a bad grade in one of her classes and scott says she cant touch him cos u cant reward bad behavior!!!

it’s funny because scott thinks he’s handling it the right way.

it’s how he was raised — it’s why he ended up in the working environment he did. his mother was a sweet woman, but his father was hard, never impressed, always pushing scott to achieve more. of course there were times he resented him for being so cold and unyielding, but he supposed he had him to thank for everything. now as a grown adult, scott saw himself in his old man, rearing his ugly head when least expected.

you’d come home to scott, all wired up and manic looking for a distraction. the project you thought you’d been slaving over ended up bringing you your worst grade yet. it wasn’t failable, and you knew you’d be able to pull yourself back — but it was certainly a wake up call. you felt ashamed.

you’d mentioned it in passing to scott as you were toeing your shoes off, thinking that if you treated it as a casual thing, it would be less damning. you were known to work hard, and you’d hate if scott thought any less of you. if there was anyone who’s opinion mattered to you over your professor, it was him.

“— and i’m gonna have to retake that class because i flopped so hard, anyway i had icecream for lunch—”

“hold on.” scott frowns, arms folded over his chest as he leans a shoulder against the wall, narrowing his eyes at you. “retake the class? explain.”

he makes note of the way you swallow and avoid his eyes as you gather up an excuse. “its fine, i failed the class. its fine.” you shrug a shoulder, and scott stares before shaking his head with a sigh.

“look — i told you, if you’re gonna be here all the time you can’t let it interfere with your projects. i think — i think it’s best if you start spending some weekends from home so you can get back on top of—”

“no!” you bark, eyes wide and desperate, which actually silences him in surprise. you are incredibly quick to adjust yourself, releasing a tense chuckle to let it be known that you were on your best behaviour, smile straining your cheeks and not quite meeting your eyes. “scott it’s not that serious, i swear. i’m passing all my other classes, this happens to everyone atleast once.” you figure your tone is reassuring enough, especially as he doesn’t follow you into the kitchen to make your daily green tea.

you spend a little longer than usual in the kitchen as you sip away at your drink, giving your boyfriend time to hopefully forget about the bad grade you received so you could potentially start the evening over, feeling things were a little chaotic. the hot liquid seems to soothe your nerves momentarily too, aiming to leave the day behind as you eventually slink out into the living room, eeking out your distraction as you join scott on the couch.

he’s watching some kind of documentary, naturally manspreading with that concentrated frown like a man much older than he was. you let a mischievous smile slip as you wriggle up to his side, stroking at his arm. this was nothing unusual from your usual behaviour, so scott doesn’t react — continuing on with his show.

“scotty.” you breathe in his ear, beginning to dot kisses gently along his jawline.

“hm?”

“missed you. needed daddy all day.” you pout as a manicured hand rises to rest on his broad chest before sliding slowly down his stomach toward his belt. you nearly jump out of your skin when he grabs your wrist and moves it away.

“no.” he hums, voice low. you blink your wide eyes at him in confusion — maybe you were just spoilt, because it wasn’t often you heard that word so firmly.

“huh?”

it’s only then scott looks at you, raising his eyebrows. “you think i’m gonna reward you for failing a class? you know, if i had been you — i’d already be at the desk with my laptop out, getting to work so i don’t fail my class again.” he’s stern, and whilst you’re used to his blunt ways you’re stunned by how cruel he was being. to him, he wanted the best for you and this was how he showed it in the moment, but to you it was the ultimate rejection.

it’s unnoticeable to the human eye, but he softens when you’re so quick to submit without argument despite his words, bashfully climbing off the couch to silently grab your bag and head to the bedroom where scott’s desk was. he watches you go, arms crossed — before he sighs, closing his eyes. that wasn’t him, it was his father. you didn’t deserve that.

he thinks up what to say to you, standing up to retrieve you approximately seven minutes later. he finds you at the desk where he suggested, laptop open on an empty document, crying quietly into your hands. scott closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath before starting towards you.

“hey. hey.” his voice is quiet as he scoops you off the chair, replacing you with himself as he cradles you on his lap. “c’mon.” he whispers, feeling you wrack with another silent sob into your hands.

“i’m sorry.” you squeak.

“you don’t have to be sorr—”

“you’re disappointed in me. i’m disappointed in me too i just wanted to forget for a few hours.” you cry like a baby, stripped down to your most vulnerable self and his jaw clenches, mad that he was the one to upset you like this. this relationship shit was harder than it looked.

“hey i’m not, okay? i’m not. i was… hard on you because i think you can be great. okay? i think you are great. most talented girl i know. i don’t wanna get in the way of that, you know?” his large hand slides up your back to pull you closer and he feels you nod.

“i know. i’m sorry i get so upset about stupid stuff. i tried to be a big girl about it. i tried to… start—” you pull away to gesture to the empty document and he breathes out a chuckle, pulling you back to his chest.

“i know. i see… and it’s not stupid. i was mean. you should have kicked my ass.” he shakes his head but hears you giggle against his shirt, likely staining it with tears and mascara.

“next time.” comes out muffled.

“great.” he sarks before pulling you back to mop up your face, trying not to grimace at any snot or drool as he swipes it away with his thumb. “look. get started on… all this tomorrow. i’ll help in any way i can. what do you need right now? hm?” he jogs you on his lap with his knee once to signify that he wants a verbal and decisive answer. you press your lips together, glancing down at his belt once more. “oh yeah?” he confirms in that deep voice that makes between your legs ooze. “still after that?”

you nod, and he squeezes you hip. “alright. i think i can provide.”

[please-read-the-manga]

I know this is an older post (and I agree with all of it), but I wanted to share something I read a while back that really changed my perception on this topic/the way I personally go about rationalizing/understanding why so much of what occurs with the Uchiha feels unsatisfying.

Here's a link to the thread (lots of cool opinions/thoughts are expressed on it), but I'll try to crudely summarize what resonated the most with me. "Kishimoto's Writing On the Uchiha is Unironically A Good Example of Real Life Pro-Genocide Propaganda" by u/LivingwithStupidity.

To save space, thoughts under the cut:

Outside of our major characters (who all, to some degree, largely play antagonistic roles ie. Madara, Obito, Itachi, Sasuke, even Fugaku), the Uchiha rarely exist outside of the context of the massacre and even then, they are largely voiceless and nameless. This dehumanizes them in the narrative and robs them of individuality, especially as time progresses within the series. We naturally forget, for example, about the sweet old Uchiha aunty that runs a clan store in Sasuke's memories because she's never shown or brought up again. Outside of some hints in Sasuke's initial memories of the event that do not get repeated, we're not shown different generations of characters remembering their fallen Uchiha comrades/school friends, during later flashbacks to past wars we're not shown different Uchiha clan members fighting in the background (even though they were major participants who gave their lives in battle/on behalf of the village and operated as a founding clan - the only exception to this is Kagami and he is notably used as an exception to 'typical' Uchiha), we're not shown academy teachers having to redo their class rosters because all of their young Uchiha students were murdered, we're not shown any characters looking at empty shop stalls that used to be manned by noncombatant Uchiha characters and commenting on that loss of life/what it means to the village, etc. The rest of the in-universe world moves on and none of our major characters really call back into focus the humanity that was indiscriminately annihilated through the massacre - it laps at the surface through Sasuke's character/actions, but outside of its first introduction, it's never (imo) that explicit again. The closest we get to a proper callback to callous loss of life is Sasuke's reaction to Danzo's arm where it's revealed he violated and mutilated Uchiha bodies... but even this, I fear, is a bit too subtle for some people and it gets overlooked. Later, when Sasuke goes on to rightfully call out Konoha's crimes he specifically mentions his mother, father, and brother - and, again, I don't think this is enough to remind some readers of the sheer gravity of the tragedy at play here. Maybe even just one more line here, that reminded the reader innocent children, the infirmed, and noncombatants were murdered in their beds too, would have gone a long way... but the narrative (pointedly, in my opinion) doesn't take that necessary step. The loss of life isn't felt as vividly as it should be and I think it gives many readers license to dismiss Sasuke's grief and mission as 'unwarranted' (and it inspires the braindead 'well so-and-so suffered too/lost xyz and they didn't react like that' arguments when this tragedy, if you're capable of deeper analysis, is on a completely different scale/underscores an extremely unique injustice that is personal to Sasuke). There is a weight applied to Itachi's crimes when they're being discussed, but the critical human piece seems to be missing (imo) - hundreds of families massacred in one night is replaced all too simply with 'the clan' and I think the impact of the former gets handwaved by the phrasing of the latter.

The faulty eugenics arguments also serve as a simplistic 'see-I-told-you-so' that satisfies far too many and seems to justify, in their eyes, the complete destruction of the Uchiha bloodline and culture. Personally, if I can get a little 'real-world' here, I wonder if this is partially a symptom of poor education on genocide/the history of genocide. To me, Tobirama's unproven, disingenuous presentation on 'Uchiha genes' just reeks of 'Der Untermensch' propaganda and I think some people are far too generous in granting allowances for his very obviously pointed hatred and bias against this clan of people, especially when his direct actions as a person in power helped give rise to the eventual elimination of the Uchiha. For many people, this is all they need to know to now wipe their hands of this 'debate', call Sasuke 'crazy' and an 'edgy emo worked up over nothing' and point to this hateful, whacko eugenicist character that claims the sharingan makes 'these people' crazy so, of course, they 'self-destructed' (even if that was not the truth), of course, they're 'all bad and not worthy of Sasuke's efforts to preserve their memory/bring them justice', etc. Again, this works hand-in-hand with the previous point where we are pointedly not reminded that babies, children and everyday people without the sharingan, the elderly/infirmed, anyone who maybe had a dissenting opinion on this alleged coup - all of them - were lumped together on the basis of their 'genetic disposition and biological deficiencies' and thereby slaughtered without remorse. Now certain people can comfortably read pages upon pages of Itachi wank and be content with the knowledge that what Itachi did was justified/for the best because, well, the Uchiha are all nut-jobs. Yep, every single one. It's in their blood... just round 'em up and kill 'em. Right? These takes are so disgusting and continue to persistent in this fandom.

Finally, as mentioned in this thread already, Itachi never comes full circle to acknowledge his own victimhood at the hands of the village nor does he express any direct regret of his actions against his kin. He does regret, partially, how he handled Sasuke (and imo even that gets less focus than I frankly feel it deserves within these discussions - not only did Itachi repeatedly torture and try to force his brother onto a path that suited Itachi/Itachi's whims he was also prepared to BRAINWASH his younger brother and, again, force him to serve the state regardless of Sasuke's own freewill/agency), but Itachi never outright states that he regrets the massacre specifically (just that things could have been different) nor does he draw his own conclusions about the village's failures and how he was absolutely groomed and victimized by Konoha's violent rhetoric + the greater shinobi system (particularly when Sasuke is trying to wrap his own head around this mess of contradictions). I mean, the weight of that is enormous and I think it's a disservice to both Sasuke and Itachi to not explore the implications of that. Editing to add (I had it in the tags, but I should probably put it here): I do think Itachi felt guilt, even if it wasn't completely articulated, and that is why he manipulated Sasuke into killing him, but the major problem (for myself and many) remains that to the very end he died proudly 'Itachi of Konoha' even though Konoha inexcusably harmed him, his beloved younger brother, and his entire family. Itachi acknowledging, in some way, that the village is harmful but there should be some way of fixing that (ie. inspiring Sasuke to contemplate how that could be/what that looks like) would have added some needed complexity to discourse centering on the harm of the shinobi world/what happens going forward. I'm aware there are different interpretations on Itachi's regret, I go back and forth on these interpretations.

All this to say, I would have loved to see more flashbacks with Sasuke exploring his relationship to his mother/father/other Uchiha clan members. I would have loved to see more Uchiha merchants/laborers (or general noncombatants), cousins that Sasuke played with and met up with after his classes, elders that would sneak him treats, etc.

Their clan-specific jutsu and symbols have meaning, there is cultural significance to them that Sasuke may or may not be familiar with and, in either case, that matters. When Sasuke realizes he'll never be able to ask his father or elders what 'xyz' means in relation to their clan and his heritage, that such knowledge is gone forever, that matters. When Sasuke starts to forget certain faces, or can't bring himself to recall those times without being reminded of their bloody slaughter (as Itachi designed), that matters. Anyone who thinks about what Sasuke has endured for more than 5 minutes likely understands that these conflicting feelings/questions constantly loom around his character - how does someone who has been through something so awful, who has completely lost everything, how do they continue to endure? But the issue, I think, is that the narrative fails to adequately highlight these ideas in a way that would not only be 1.) satisfying to those of us who resonate with/appreciate the character but 2.) be capable of inspiring empathy in readers who maybe don't have the background/knowledge/experience to grapple with the weight of Sasuke's reality (again, without more explicit focus from the narrative itself).

Naruto gets to see his father and mother in two extremely meaningful moments - they're story highlights for a reason. Naruto's experience with neglect, isolation, and lack of identity have been hallmarks informing his character since the beginning. That he is given the opportunity to directly reconcile with these feelings, is great, it's satisfying - we see how this character has hurt and how they've grown and we're happy to see them receive some semblance of closure after the difficult journey they've undergone. So, I'll always lament that the same was never extended to Sasuke. To have an alternative viewpoint to Itachi's, could have greatly influenced Sasuke's calculus as he tried to parse his thoughts/feelings regarding insurmountable grief, isolation, and loss. I mean, imagine if Fugaku and Mikoto were edo tensei'd... What would they have said to their youngest son who had been tasked with this impossible mission of bringing justice to their clan in the face of the pure evil injustice that the Leaf did to them? Would he have been given peace? Would they have relieved him of his quest so that he no longer needed to suffer? Would he listen? Idk, man, we were able to waste so many chapters on random fodder characters during the war arc, we couldn't be bothered to interact with any other Uchiha?

But... if we did present other Uchiha for the purpose of exploring what closure looks like for Sasuke (even outside of Fugaku and Mikoto, though I think they could have worked too), then we would be humanizing them in a way that conflicts with what the narrative seems to want us to take away from the village's (and Itachi's) actions. We can't humanize the Uchiha without calling out this horrifying wrong the Leaf has exercised... especially if there will not be any retribution (and that could be a fascinating story to explore, a really realistic one too lol - but I don't personally think that was the narrative's intention).

It really does just feel like a missed opportunity/mishandling of 'what could have been' at the end of the day. We have hints to this greater, underexplored Uchiha lore that are fascinating - like the Uchiha relationship to the Nekobaa, the Nakano shrine the Uchiha faithfully tended for generations, and Sasuke and Itachi having their fight in what was notably an impressive clan structure far from the village.

This was a group of people connected through a deep, rich culture. They weren't 'nobodies', they weren't 'crazy and irredeemable' - they were people and the narrative would love for you to forget that.

On one level I feel like Sasuke’s idealization of Itachi towards the end is mostly a product of Kishimoto’s desire to have all the characters glorify Itachi and treat him like a saint so he can have his tragic plot twist hero character and no one questions how fucked up it is and so he can erase the rest of Sasuke’s clan and connections to his family but on the other I do think elements of it are realistic given how Obito kept telling Sasuke how much Itachi sacrificed for him and how his own sense of purpose and ideals and sense of self had already been tied to Itachi (antagonistically) for so long through trying to kill him, and how desperate he was to be loved in a way that connected him to his family. And he didn’t actually really believe that what Itachi did was right—if he had he wouldn’t have yelled at him for answers when he came back and he wouldn’t have chosen to oppose Konoha and the kages and essentially gone directly against everything Itachi stood for. I think the fact that on a very fundamental level he opposes the ideology that Itachi upheld but still feels a certain empathy for him and responsibility to him and contextualizes his worldview in reference to him does sort of make sense in a very sad way even if he would be completely justified in feeling nothing but hatred for him forever. I don’t think it was a good choice to have him refer to him in such heroic/valorizing terms though, and if that was going to be the case I wish we had seen a progression that didn’t result in concession to Konoha wherein he could accept that seeing Itachi in any kind of heroic light was deeply inaccurate and unhealthy

[stvrboyy]

── ❝𝓒astlevania 𝓓ating 𝓗eadcanons❞

────────── alucard/adrian tepes x gn!reader

────────── trevor belmont x gn!reader

────────── sypha belnades x gn!reader

─ summary; generic dating hcs that have been rotting in my drafts for a bit ;)

word count; 600+

cw; fluff, established relationship (seperate), some are SUGGESTIVE

a/n; i miss sypha and trevor so so so so so muchhhh ughhh. also im open to writing more headcanons for the castlevania trio cuz i loved this sm

─ navigation

─ masterlist

ALUCARD ;

─ Alucard is a reserved but deeply attentive lover. He observes your needs and preferences, often meeting them before you even voice them. ─ He loves quiet moments together—reading by candlelight, strolling through moonlit gardens, or sharing soft conversations in the stillness of night. ─ Physical touch is subtle but meaningful. He enjoys resting his hand on your shoulder or brushing his fingers along yours, each gesture deliberate and full of affection. ─ He values your opinions and enjoys discussing philosophy, history, and the nuances of human nature, always eager to hear your thoughts. ─ Once he trusts you, he’s incredibly loyal and would do anything to keep you safe. ─ Alucard’s touch is gentle but carries a hidden intensity. He’ll softly brush his lips along your neck, testing your reactions before fully indulging in a kiss. ─ There’s something intoxicating about his voice when he lowers it to a whisper, murmuring your name in ways that make your heart race. ─ He’s usually in control, but when you show him affection first, it stirs something deeper in him. ─ He adores lingering touches, like trailing his fingers along your spine or holding your face just to admire your expression.

TREVOR ;

─ Trevor is gruff and sarcastic but utterly devoted once you’ve broken through his tough exterior. He’s protective, often throwing himself into danger for your sake. ─ He loves to tease you, using playful banter as a way to express affection. His smirks grow wider whenever he manages to make you laugh. ─ Despite his roughness, he has a surprisingly soft side. You’ll catch him wrapping you in his cloak on cold nights or wordlessly pressing a kiss to your temple. ─ He thrives on adventure and loves having you as his partner in crime, whether it’s hunting monsters or sharing drinks at a lively tavern. ─ Trevor might not say “I love you” often, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll fix your weapons, cook when you’re too tired, or stay up all night to watch over you after a tough fight. ─ Trevor is handsy when he’s in the mood—an arm around your waist, a hand resting low on your back, or fingers brushing your thighs under the table. ─ He’s a shameless flirt, always whispering bold comments that make you blush. ─ After a fight or a drink, he gets more affectionate, kissing you with a rough passion. ─ He loves making you flustered and gets a kick out of your reactions when he’s playful.

SYPHA ;

─ Sypha is an affectionate and playful partner. She’s always ready with a witty remark or a kind word to lift your spirits. ─ Physical affection comes naturally to her. She loves holding hands, linking arms, or resting her head on your shoulder after a long day. ─ She enjoys sharing stories about magic or her travels and loves hearing about your life too. ─ She’s brave and always ready to protect you in a fight, casting spells to keep you safe. ─ Sypha loves spending time with you, whether it’s exploring or just sitting under the stars. ─ She loves whispering sweet (and occasionally daring) things in your ear, just to see your reaction. ─ She’s confident in showing her affection, often pulling you into passionate kisses. ─ She adores the intimacy of tangled limbs and shared warmth, often tracing lazy patterns on your skin with her fingertips during quiet moments. ─ Sypha knows how to balance playfulness and passion, making every moment with her unforgettable.

© STVRBOYY — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

[szariahwroteit]

Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Orginal Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 13

Although Jude valued the opinions of his loved ones, the playful teasing from Marcus didn’t possess the bite it used to.

He’d mindlessly told Marcus that he had dropped Tori at a doctor’s appointment one morning before training. Honestly, he hadn’t put the same thought into it as his best friend did; that morning, she had stayed over at his place. He had time to kill, and she had somewhere to be.

Jude didn't mind his brother's playful remarks and had no issue reminding him that, regardless of the person he had in his life, he was still very much a single man.

However, things took a less playful turn when the following Thursday arrived. Marcus and his girlfriend Charlotte had come to spend the weekend in Madrid to watch Jude and his teammates as they took on rivals Barcelona. With them, they had brought Anastasia, a friend of Charlotte’s who was previously familiar with Jude.

Letting out a breath he’d been holding as he sat on the edge of his bed, Jude pinched the bridge of his nose as his mind ran wild with thoughts of Tori.

“What am I supposed to tell her?” Jude asked Marcus as he opened his eyes, his voice tinged with frustration. Marcus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Honestly, I didn't mean to put you in hot water like this. But when you introduced me to Tori in Dubai, I thought she was just your piece for the trip. Had I known it was more, I would have never brought Anastasia along.” Marcus snickered, a hint of remorse creeping into his tone.

“She means more than that,” Jude replied sharply, a flash of irritation sparking in his chest. He instantly regretted the bite in his voice but kept his eyes locked on Marcus, who raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? So, you’re telling me you and Tori are… more?” Marcus pressed, his voice lacking the amusement it once held. “When you told me you were single over the phone, I figured Anastasia would be a welcomed surprise.”

“I am single, but the things we’ve been doing… the way we've been moving, I'd be doing Tori dirty by entertaining anyone else,” Jude divulged.

“The way you've been moving?” Marcus repeated.

“The appointment I took her to was for her to start birth control,” Jude blurted out, his gaze flicking to the floor as he felt the heat creep into his cheeks. He could practically hear the gears turning in Marcus's mind.

“Fuck,” Marcus said slowly, processing the information. “You're really feeling her then. This isn't just some fling?”

Jude sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not. I care about her, and it’s becoming more than just physical.” He hesitated, his thoughts tumbling together unceremoniously.

“Look,” Marcus said, straightening up, the teasing tone dropping altogether. “We can get Anastasia to stay in a hotel for the weekend, but she is still going to be in Madrid with us. She is going to cross paths with Tori continuously.”

Jude leaned back on the bed, feeling the weight of Marcus's words settle over him like an unwelcome blanket. The thought of Tori and Anastasia interacting filled him with a mix of anxiety and dread. He had known Anastasia sporadically during their former years, her sharp wit and playful demeanor often leaving an impression, but their connection fizzled out over time. Since meeting Tori, Jude’s attention hadn't been anywhere else, regardless of titles.

"What do you suggest then?" Jude asked, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. The room echoed with uncertainty.

Marcus pushed off from the doorframe, stepping closer. “Look, just be upfront with Tori. If you’re serious about her, let her know what’s happening. You don’t want her to feel blindsided or like you have no regard for her feelings.”

Jude nodded, the weight of Marcus's advice settling heavily on his shoulders. "You're right. I just... I didn't plan on this. Tori isn't my girlfriend, but she is where my head is and a priority of mine," His voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping in.

“Then make it official in your head first,” Marcus advised, his tone steady and encouraging. “You don’t have to label everything right now. Just be honest about how you feel and where you stand. If she knows where your head is, there should be no trouble.”

Jude exhaled, mentally wrestling with the idea. Would laying his cards on the table only complicate things further? Would it change the light, free-flowing nature of what they shared? Yet a small voice reminded him that avoiding the conversation wouldn’t help.

“Theoretically, but she's going to be here soon, and when she turns up, a girl that I used to fuck is going to be sharing space with the girl I am with. Tori is understanding, not a pushover.” Jude spoke, the tension in his voice revealing the swirl of emotions churning inside him.

Marcus considered what he said momentarily, his expression shifting from playful to severe. “Look, it’s going to be awkward, but if she’s as understanding as you say, then she’ll handle it. Being upfront is the only way to avoid misunderstandings. Trust me—communication is everything. If you want me to, I can explain that this was on me.”

Jude felt Marcus's seriousness resonate within him. Communication had always been essential in relationships, yet he had taken the easy road, gliding along on the surface without diving deeper into what was unfolding with Tori. His heart pounded with the possibilities that awaited—both enticing and terrifying.

“Yeah, but what if I mess this up?” Jude sighed, searching Marcus’s face for answers that would put him at ease. “It’s just… this is all new territory for me. I genuinely enjoy what Tori and I have; I don't want to fuck it up.”

Marcus stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Jude's shoulder. “You won’t mess it up unless you don't communicate. Trust your instincts, Jude. You’ve got this. You know Tori better than anyone. If she’s as special to you as you say, then you owe it to her to be honest.”

Jude nodded slowly, allowing Marcus's words to sink in. He could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down, and with it, a fierce determination began to bubble up within him. He cared about Tori more than he had admitted to himself, even in the solitude of his bedroom.

“Okay,” Jude finally said, his voice steadier. “I’ll talk to her when she gets here. It might be messy, but I’d rather deal with the mess than leave anything to chance.”

“Good,” Marcus replied with a nod. “And hey, if it helps, I’ll look into a hotel for Anastasia to stay at. Charlotte and I will take her there once we figure everything out.”

Jude felt a wave of relief wash over him at the thought of his friends intervening, easing the tension that had begun to unravel him. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Just thinking about Tori and Anastasia in the same room sends my stomach into knots."

"Understandable," Marcus said with a sympathetic smile. "But you know Tori well enough to handle it. Just be honest, and the rest will fall into place."

Jude leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts drifted to Tori. He could still feel the warmth of her body next to his, the laughter they shared over late-night snacks, and the way she challenged him to be better both on and off the field. It felt different with her—more substantial than any casual fling. He needed her to know how much he valued what they had built.

After a moment of silence, Marcus clapped Jude on the shoulder. “I’ll let you have some time to gather your thoughts. Just call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As Marcus left the room, Jude's heart raced with anticipation and anxiety. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the time. Tori would arrive any minute now, and as ready as he was to lay his cards on the table, he couldn't deny the nerves that swirled inside of him.

He had already ironed things out where Anastasia was concerned. She knew she had been invited by mistake, and despite his look of embarrassment as he explained he had someone in his life now, she had been gracious, understanding his position. It was a good start but only heightened Jude's awareness of the delicate situation.

The anticipation felt like a weight pressing down on him with each passing moment. What if Tori had other expectations? What if she saw their relationship differently? He couldn’t shake the doubt but knew he had to deal with things head-on. He couldn't afford to leave things up to interpretation.

The sound of his doorbell ringing through his spacious home made his heart leap into his throat. There it was—his chance to face the music. The weight of his indecision felt almost unbearable as he took a deep breath and went downstairs to the door, his mind racing with thoughts of what to say.

He opened the door, and there stood Tori, a smile breaking across her face as she spotted him. She looked radiant, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes shining with a warmth that eased and intensified his nerves.

“Hey!” she smiled sweetly, stepping across the threshold and into Jude’s arms.

Jude enveloped her in a warm embrace, pulling her close and savoring the familiar scent of her hair—a mix of coconut and something sweet, truly Tori. For a moment, he lost himself in the comfort of her presence, letting her laughter wash over him. It was a fleeting distraction from the weight of the conversation looming ahead.

“Hey! You made it,” he replied, his grin matching hers. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks!” she giggled softly. “I just pulled on the first thing I could find when I got home from rehearsal.”

Jude's heart swelled at her radiant smile, but the thrill of the moment was tempered by the conversation he knew he had to initiate. He wanted nothing more than to relish their easy banter and the tangible connection between them. Yet, the gravity of his unspoken feelings weighed heavily on him.

Stepping back slightly, he gestured for her to come inside. “Tori, we need to talk.”

The lightness in Tori’s expression shifted to one of curiosity, her brows knitting together in gentle concern. “Talk? About what?”

Jude closed the door behind them, feeling an electric tension settle in the room. He needed to keep his tone casual, but the weight of his words felt monumental. “It’s... about us and the weekend ahead.”

Tori tilted her head, taking a step closer, her gaze searching his face for answers. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he reassured her quickly, wanting to dispel any sense of unease. “It’s just that Marcus and Charlotte brought along Anastasia, and I didn’t realize how complicated it could get.”

He watched Tori’s face, her expression shifting as she processed the information. “Anastasia? Who is she...?”

“She’s a friend of Marcus’ and someone I—” Jude hesitated, searching for a way to frame it delicately.

“And she's here in your house?” Tori asked cautiously.

Jude nodded, feeling a rush of heat creep into his cheeks. “Yeah, but it’s not what you’re thinking. We had a history, but it’s... it’s not the same anymore. I just wanted to be upfront with you because I care about where we’re headed.”

Tori’s brow furrowed as she stepped back, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from what she was perceiving. Jude could see the surprise and confusion play across her beautiful features, and he felt an immediate pang of regret for springing this on her.

“Okay. So, Anastasia is staying with you for the weekend, too?” she prompted, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“Marcus is sorting a hotel for her,” Jude replied, his heart pounding at the building tension in the air. “But she will be around this weekend.”

Tori took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed his words. “I appreciate you being honest with me, Jude, but why didn’t you mention her earlier? I wouldn't have come here.”

Jude swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her disappointment. “I want you here, Tori,” he said, his voice steady but low. “I didn’t know she was coming over with Marcus and Charlotte until they landed earlier.”

Tori regarded him with a mix of incredulity and concern, her eyes searching his for sincerity. “Do you have feelings for her? I mean… she’s from your past. What if she’s trying to rekindle something with you?”

“No!” Jude immediately countered, desperation creeping into his voice. “It’s not like that at all, I promise you. Anastasia and I have history, but it’s ancient history. I haven’t thought about her or anyone else in that way since you came into my life; she’s been nothing more than a past chapter.”

Tori’s gaze softened slightly, but the tension still hung thick in the space between them. “Then why does it feel like you're gearing me up to walk into some kind of competition?” The vulnerability in her question cut deeper than Jude anticipated.

Jude's ex had turned up unannounced with his best friend and his girlfriend. Regardless of what Jude had to say, their lives were obviously intertwined.

Jude felt the weight of Tori’s words settle heavily in the air, the silence between them stretching uncomfortably. “It’s not a competition,” he insisted, his voice tinged with desperation. He stepped closer, trying to bridge the emotional gap that had sprung up. “I care about you, Tori. I thought we were building something special, and I still want that. I want you.”

Tori tilted her head, eyes searching his for the truth amidst his assurances. “You’re saying all the right things, but this situation is… complicated, Jude. I just don’t want to feel like I’m the second choice while you have someone from your past around.”

“I get that,” he said, his heart racing as he grasped her hands, holding her gaze. “But I’m not looking back; I’m looking forward—at you.”

Her expression softened slightly, but unease lingered in her eyes. “So, if she’s here for the weekend, how do we navigate that? I mean, it’s not exactly easy to just pretend everything’s fine.”

Jude took a deep breath, steeling himself for the weight of the conversation ahead. “I want you to know that you are my priority. We can talk about it if it becomes uncomfortable for you, and I’ll handle it. I’d rather lose my pride than jeopardize what we have.”

Tori’s lips parted as if to speak, but her voice faltered for a moment before she found her words. “You realize how it sounds, right? You’re telling me that you’re serious about us, yet we’re dropping right into this chaos with someone who shares your past… It feels unfair to me.”

“Unfair?” Jude echoed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as he struggled to keep his voice calm. “No, what wouldn’t be fair is if I didn’t bring this up with you. I want to be transparent. You deserve that, Tori. I have feelings for you—real feelings—and I’m trying to be honest about everything. I’ve only had my focus on you.”

Tori's brows furrowed, her expression flickering as she considered his words. “I appreciate your honesty, I do…” she trailed off, her voice softening. “But it’s just hard to reconcile that when Anastasia is literally right here... The thought of you two being around each other, of you having any history—it’s crazy.”

Jude could sense the turmoil brewing within her, the agitation playing out across her features. He felt the walls he once thought would hold a sense of safety now beginning to crumble under the weight of their reality.

“I wish it were simpler,” he said earnestly, running a hand through his hair. “But I can’t ignore the fact that she’s here for the weekend. That said, I also can’t ignore how I feel about you. You mean so much more to me than whatever I had with anyone else in the past.”

Tori blinked, the strength in her posture weakening slightly as she searched his eyes for sincerity. “You mean that?”

“More than anything,” he replied, taking a step closer, allowing the honesty in his gaze to shine through. Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face toward his, searching her eyes for the truth of her feelings. "You’re different.“

Her gaze softened, though the tension still lingered. She was clearly trying to reconcile the feelings swirling within her. "Jude, I don't want to come off as jealous or insecure. I'm just trying to understand everything because it feels really overwhelming right now."

“I get that,” he said, voice low and sincere. “Please just trust that I won't do anything to disrespect or hurt you.”

Tori gave a slight nod, her eyes searching his, and for a moment, they stood in silence, each feeling the weight of what lay between them. Jude could see the internal battle playing out in her eyes—as if she was trying to make sense of it all while she wrestled with the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Look,” Jude said softly, trying to coax her into a more relaxed state. “Let's take this one step at a time. I want you to be comfortable this weekend, and if that means we need to set some boundaries regarding Anastasia, I'm all for it.”

Her expression shifted slightly, gratitude dawning amid the uncertainty. “I appreciate that, honestly. It’s just... this feeling of sharing space with someone that I know you’ve been with before. It’s unsettling.”

“I understand,” Jude replied, his heart aching for her. “But I promise you, my focus is on you. Anastasia is just an echo of my past. Can we work together to make things feel okay for both of us? I want this weekend to be special for us.”

Tori took a deep breath, her resolve mingling with her vulnerability. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice steadier. “I think as long as you keep communicating, I can manage. It’s just hard because—”

"Because you want assurance," Jude finished for her gently, his heart pounding under the weight of her words. "I get it; you're not just navigating my past; we're trying to establish a future."

Tori nodded, a flicker of relief spreading across her features as she stepped closer to him. The warmth of her body eased the tension in the air. "Exactly. I don't want to feel like I'm constantly competing for your attention. I want you to be present with me, Jude."

"Then let's make that the priority," Jude said firmly. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, marveling at the softness of her skin and the tangible warmth between them.

Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned in a bit closer, the air crackling with unspoken tension. “I promise you, Tori. I want this weekend to be about us. No games, no distractions.”

Tori's eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and resolve. “Okay, I trust you. But you have to understand, this is an adjustment.” She paused, her expression softening as she stepped back just a fraction, realizing they stood on the precipice of something deeper.

“I understand,” Jude replied, positioning himself closer as he sought her gaze, his hands coming to rest on her hips as their eyes met.

Leaning into her, a soft hum ripped from Jude’s throat as their lips met in a delicate, tentative kiss. It was soft at first, carrying the weight of their conversation, but it quickly blossomed into something more passionate and urgent. The world around them faded, and it was just the two of them, their connection deepening in the embrace.

Tori responded to Jude’s intensity, her arms winding around his neck as she melted into him. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, a comforting rhythm that synced with his own. It was as if they were both reminding each other just how right this felt—beneath the uncertainties of the weekend and the looming presence of Anastasia, what mattered was their shared connection.

Lifting Tori off the ground so her legs wrapped around his waist, Jude deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of her lips, the softness of her body pressed against his.

A soft gasp escaped Tori's lips, her fingers tangling in Jude's hair as she nestled closer to him. The sensation of her warmth against him made his heart race, igniting a fire within that he hadn't realized he craved so much. They stood there for a moment, forgotten in the world outside—a world that suddenly seemed far less important than the intimacy they shared in that instant.

“Jude…” she breathed against his lips, her eyes glimmering with an emotion he could only begin to understand but desperately wanted to explore.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur as he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, searching for answers in the depths of her chocolate-brown eyes. The seriousness of their earlier conversation still lingered, but the electric thrill of their kiss had shifted the atmosphere from tension to something deeply intimate.

"I just don’t want to lose what we have," Tori admitted softly, her fingers sliding from his hair to rest on his shoulders. “This weekend, with Anastasia... I can do it, but I need you to promise me we’ll navigate it all together. No bullshit.”

“No bullshit,” Jude repeated before his lips were back on hers, drawing her closer yet again, letting the warmth of their connection dispel the remnants of tension. It was a promise that they both felt, evident in the way their bodies instinctively responded to one another.

Unbeknownst to both Tori and Jude, Anastasia stood just out of sight, watching them from the hallway, her expression caught between surprise and intrigue. The way Jude held Tori, the softness of their shared kiss, stirred something in her — a curious mix of nostalgia and an unshakeable feeling of jealousy. She had known Jude once upon a time, and while their past had been filled with thrilling moments and hot sex, it was evident to her that she was witnessing something deeper.

Anastasia felt her heart tug as she observed the undeniable connection radiating from Jude and Tori. Memories of their brief romance flickered in her mind, but they felt distant now, overshadowed by the intensity of what she was witnessing. She had come to Madrid expecting a weekend filled with laughter and good times, but the sight of Jude and Tori together ignited a complicated mix of feelings.

Should she interrupt? Should she turn and leave? The moment felt so intimate that she almost felt like an intruder. But she was also acutely aware of the fact that she needed to assert herself in this situation. This was her chance to rekindle something with Jude, and seeing him with Tori stirred something deep within her—a sense of longing for what they once had but also a realization that things had changed.

As she hesitated in the shadows, Charlotte appeared beside her, raising an eyebrow at the scene before them. “Looks like we’ve interrupted something,” she whispered, a smile creeping onto her face.

Anastasia shot her a look, a mix of irritation and contemplation. “I didn’t expect to walk into this,” she replied quietly, her eyes still locked on Jude and Tori. “Why didn’t Marcus mention he was seeing anyone seriously?”

Charlotte shrugged, crossing her arms. “Maybe he didn't know either. But Jude looks pretty smitten, don’t you think?”

Anastasia's heart sank a little at Charlotte's words. The chemistry between Jude and Tori was palpable, the way they moved together like two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their match. It stung to see him so at ease with someone new, someone who clearly brought out a different side of him—one that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Yeah, I guess,” Anastasia replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here now. I can't just back down. I need to make my presence known.”

“You sure about that?” Charlotte asked, her voice laced with concern. “It looks like they’re pretty serious. Do you really want to interrupt?”

Anastasia hesitated, torn between her desire to reclaim what was once hers and the realization that she might have already lost.

“We’ll see where the weekend takes us I guess,” she said, a hint of determination creeping into her voice. “But I can’t just sit back and watch them together. I owe it to myself to at least try.”

Charlotte regarded her with a mixture of sympathy and caution. “Just be careful, okay? You don’t want to disrupt something that seems to be blossoming between them. Sometimes, letting go is harder than holding on.”

Anastasia felt the weight of her words, but a spark of defiance ignited within her. “I know what I want, Charlotte. I want to remind Jude of what we had. He hasn’t really moved on, not completely. I could see it in his eyes when I got here.”

“He has arranged for you to go to a hotel instead of staying here with us; I think he's making his intentions pretty clear.” Charlotte pointed out.

Anastasia's resolve wavered slightly at Charlotte's words, but the fire in her belly refused to be extinguished. “Just because he’s with Tori doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about me entirely. We had something real, and I know that part of him still misses it.”

Charlotte shook her head, concern etched across her features. “You might be right, but you also might be setting yourself up for disappointment. Jude looks genuinely happy with Tori, and that’s not something to take lightly.”

Anastasia sighed, her heart heavy with conflict. “I get that. But I can’t just let him slip away without at least trying to remind him of what we had. I deserve that chance.”

Charlotte studied her for a moment, her expression softening. “Just be careful, okay? You don’t want to hurt anyone, least of all yourself.”

“Trust me, I know where the lines are,” Anastasia replied, a steely determination settling into her posture. “But I’m not going to let this weekend go by without making my intentions known. If I have to compete, then I will.”

With that, Charlotte stepped forward to make her presence known. Unlike her friend, she was excited to meet the girl who had Jude so captivated. The tension that had been hanging in the air felt thick and charged, and Charlotte sensed the unease radiating from both Anastasia and the couple in the living room.

“Hey, you two!” Charlotte called out, her voice light and cheerful as she approached Jude and Tori. “We didn’t mean to interrupt! We just wanted to introduce ourselves.”

Jude and Tori broke apart, their cheeks flushed from the shared kiss, and Jude felt a wave of heat wash over him as he briefly met the eyes of a small segment of his past. Tori’s expression shifted from surprise to a mask of polite friendliness, though he could feel the tension radiating from her.

Jude's heart raced as he sensed the shift in the atmosphere. Tori's expression transformed, a cautious smile replacing the warmth that had just enveloped them. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the air thick with unspoken words and the intensity of the situation.

Tori wasn't his girlfriend by definition, but she was undoubtedly his.

And now, with Anastasia stepping into the room, the boundaries of that definition felt precariously thin. Jude could sense the tension coiling tightly around them, and he was acutely aware of how much was at stake.

“Hi, I’m Tori,” she said, extending a hand toward Charlotte, trying to maintain her composure despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Charlotte smiled brightly, taking Tori’s hand warmly. “Nice to meet you too! I’ve heard a lot about you from Marcus. He mentioned you’ve been keeping Jude on his toes.”

Jude could see Tori’s smile falter for just a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she regained her footing. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she replied, her tone light, but Jude could hear the underlying tension in her voice.

Anastasia stepped forward, her presence commanding yet casual. “And I’m Anastasia,” she said, her gaze sweeping over Tori with a hint of curiosity. “It’s great to meet you.” The words were innocuous enough, but Jude could sense the underlying challenge in her tone.

“Likewise,” Tori replied, her voice steady but her body language betraying her discomfort. She shot Jude a quick glance, and he could see the uncertainty etched on her face.

Jude felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him as he stood between Tori and Anastasia, two women from different chapters of his life. The apprehension was palpable, and the air felt charged with unspoken words and emotions.

“So, what brings you to Madrid?” Tori asked, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She was trying to maintain a sense of grace and poise, but Jude could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Anastasia smiled, her demeanor confident as she replied, “I came along with Marcus and Charlotte to enjoy the weekend and catch up with old friends.” The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Jude could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

The tension in the room felt like a live wire, crackling with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Jude stood between Tori and Anastasia, acutely aware of the weight of the moment. He could feel the air thickening with uncertainty and the palpable energy of two worlds colliding.

Tori took a deep breath, her gaze steadying on Anastasia. “I hope you enjoy your time here. This city has so much to offer.” Her voice was polite, but Jude could sense the underlying tension, the way she was bracing herself for any potential blows.

Anastasia flashed a bright smile, though Jude could see the challenge lurking beneath the surface. “Thanks! I intend to make the most of it. It’s always nice to reconnect.” Her gaze flicked to Jude, and he could feel the unspoken challenge in her words, a bold reminder of their history.

As Marcus rounded the corner, his eased smile faltered as he realized what he had walked into.

“Is everything okay here?” he asked, the tension in the air heavy as he came to stand beside his girlfriend.

He anticipated Tori and Anastasia’s meeting being awkward, and had he known the seriousness of Jude’s feelings for Tori, he would have never taken it upon himself to invite her.

Now, standing in the midst of the consequences of his decision, Marcus felt its weight heavily. In hindsight, he should have asked Jude before inviting anyone.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Jude replied, his voice steady but strained as he tried to navigate through the uncertainty now pulsing in the room.

“I’m just getting to know Jude’s surprise guest,” Tori added, her tone matching Jude’s effort to play it cool despite the undeniable tension between her and Anastasia.

“Sorry about that, Tori,” Marcus said, immediately recognizing the discomfort in the air. “I should’ve given Jude a heads-up before inviting anyone.”

“It’s all right,” Tori said, forcing a smile, though Jude could see a hint of hurt behind her eyes. “It’s all good; no, if you'd excuse me, I'm going to go and put my bag upstairs in Jude’s room.”

Turning on her heel, Tori grabbed her weekend bag and made her way upstairs towards Jude's bedroom, with him following close behind. This action didn't go unnoticed by Anastasia.

Anastasia's gaze shifted between the two of them, a tight knot of jealousy forming in her stomach as she watched Tori ascend the stairs. Jude’s attention was solely focused on Tori, and the flicker of disappointment in Anastasia’s chest grew.

“Jude, wait!” she called out, her voice cutting through the heavy air as she stepped forward, determination shining in her eyes.

Jude paused at the base of the stairs, glancing over his shoulder at Anastasia, his brow furrowing slightly in apprehension. “What?”

“What’s your plan here?” she asked, crossing her arms, her tone assertive yet not unkind. “Are you just going to ignore what happened between us?”

“Anastasia—” Jude began, but she cut him off.

“No, hear me out,” she insisted, her expression shifting from frustration to something softer, more vulnerable.

“Anastasia, I can’t. Tori is my priority; she’s the girl I want.” Anastasia’s expression flashed with disappointment, a mix of old feelings and raw emotion that tugged at the edges of her heart. “So that’s it? You’re really willing to just brush our past aside because of this… this new thing with her?”

Jude took a deep breath, his heart pounding with the weight of her gaze. “Yes, I am. With you and anyone else.”

Heading up the stairs without a second glance at Anastasia, he followed in the same path that Tori had taken into his bedroom.

As Jude entered his room, he found Tori already setting her bag down on the floor, her back turned to him. Jude took a moment to soak in the sight of her—how at ease she was in his space, almost like she belonged there. The warmth of the moment felt bittersweet as the weight of their conversation threatened to return, but he couldn't shake the need to reach out to her.

“Tori,” he began softly, taking a step closer. She turned to face him, her expression a mixture of apprehension and vulnerability.

“Hey,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a swirl of emotions. The uncertainty hanging in the air between them felt suffocating, a looming cloud of unresolved tension.

“I know things just got a bit… complicated,” he continued, his hands finding a resting place on his hips as he tried to gauge her mood. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like there was a competition or that you’d walked into some mess.”

Tori let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I know. It's just… hard, Jude. I didn’t expect to deal with this as soon as I walked in the door. Learning that someone who used to be part of your life is going to be around all weekend—it's unsettling.”

“I understand,” Jude replied, moving closer until he could reach for her hand. He squeezed it gently, hoping to convey how much he valued her presence. “But you are the one who matters to me. All I want is to focus on you this weekend. I want us to be okay.”

Tori's gaze softened as she looked down at their intertwined fingers. “I appreciate that, Jude. I really do. It's just that I feel like I'm walking on eggshells here. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured because of me.”

“What I want is for you to feel secure,” he said earnestly, the intensity of his words hanging between them. “If that means I have to set boundaries with Anastasia or make it clear to her that I’m choosing you, then that’s what I’ll do.”

She met his gaze, a glimmer of hope igniting in her eyes. “You mean it?”

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding firmly. The realization of how much she meant to him ignited a fire he hadn’t fully acknowledged before—a resolve to ensure that Tori knew she had him.

[epickiya722]

When I tell you I'm so sick of this.

Yes, yes, Bakugou used to be his bully and all that yadda yadda. Oh my gosh, wow, a bully in the story! How dare such a thing exists!

Okay, stop clutching your pearls. Even Bakugou knew he was a total ass and it's not something he ever got away with like that, let alone he does grow up, so chill.

But if you're gonna go that route, throwing Todoroki in there to be like "it makes sense to pair them instead" is kind of strange because even though Todoroki didn't bully Midoriya, they did still immediately start on the wrong foot. I mean, Todoroki could have killed Midoriya in their match but I don't see people going "I don't understand how people can ship them, it doesn't make sense to me when Todoroki could have seriously killed Midoriya that one time".

I have seen people ship Midoriya with characters worse than Bakugou, but OMG, it's their ship that gets tackled on the most and at this point, I see it as a trend.

I see it as someone has to do because they're a follower.

Honestly, it's just getting ridiculous.

If the ship doesn't make sense to you, it doesn't make sense to you, who cares? But posting about it like this and then tagging it, doesn't do anything good.

No one who has caught up with the anime and manga would post about the ship in a rather negative way would be "it doesn't make sense to ship them".

"What if they aren't caught up?"

Even so, does it need to make sense? Is it an actual necessity for someone to have a ship to make sense if at the end of the day they're just entertained by the mere thought of it and not bothering you about it?

Take it from someone who ships Miruko and Burnin and is her favorite MHA ship at this time. We ain't see them have no onscreen interaction. That didn't stop me though and going "Hey, I think you two would look cute together".

There are ships in this fandom that have a way worse relationship in canon and still people ship them.

"I see art that depicts them being cute together." Okay, so and? Are you losing HP from it like some video game character that has yet to move out the lava? Do you grow a horn every time you see cute ship art of it? It's not the only ship drawn out there being cute together. It's not like there aren't cute moments in canon for them. Then stop looking at the art. Why are you looking at the art? If you keep seeing BakuDeku art, clearly... you're in the area. Probably on purpose.

I know if I keep seeing art of a ship I don't like it's a me problem because I have the choices to not follow certain people, block the tag, etc.

Maybe you shouldn't be in the MHA fandom at all given the amount of art for them anyways that's official.

Look, I'm not bothered by someone not liking Bakudeku. Could really give zero crap about it, honestly. I have ships I don't like either.

But what bothers me is posting about it, attacking the ship and tagging it.

We all have our opinions and I believe, good or bad, post about them.

However, people do shit like this and then mask it as "having an opinion" when really they probably want to start drama.

"But, Kiya, what if they're not trying to start drama? What if they don't know the proper way to tag?"

I call bullshit and I don't care. Oh, yes, I sound like a bitch, but let's be real here.

Stuff like this happens no matter where. It doesn't just happen on Tumblr. People have done this over and over and over to the point that it is hard to believe that person isn't trying to start anything.

New or not, people by now should know that if they're going to say something negative about a ship, don't draw in the shippers.

If this person didn't want to start drama then why bring TodoDeku into this? "Make it make sense." That right there is a sign of "I'm starting drama". Uh, people do happen to ship TodoDeku. I even ship it. It's not like people don't at all in the fandom ship them and only ship BakuDeku, so stop.

It's not like this person or anybody who does this is genuinely asking and do what to know because maybe they are genuinely curious and/or considering the ship but first wants to know more about it.

No, they're just being hostile. This is not an opinion. It's an attack disguised as one.

If you don't like the ship, okay. But if you're going to post about it, don't tag it.

This isn't even about BakuDeku only anymore. I see this with ships that don't even have anything wrong with them and in different fandoms. It's tiring, it's annoying and just takes the fun out of shipping.

[criticalcrusherbot]

Maybe this is old news but I am so tired of trying to understand where people with these opinions are coming from. I just so fundamentally disagree with this take but I can’t put into words why it’s wrong. Any thoughts?

🤖: Beep Boop! Bullshit detected!

💁🏽‍♀️: Thanks for the submission! The “Stolitz is toxic” argument is so tiiiiredddd 😩 The only thing that’s old news is that these people refusing to put forth the literary analysis skills I’d expect in a 6th grade Language Arts class. Let’s get into it 😈

1. “Selling His Body”? That’s a Reach.

Let’s address the claim that Blitz is “selling his body” like he’s some helpless victim in a one-sided arrangement. First of all, Blitz isn’t some wide-eyed innocent here—he’s a grown, street smart businessman who agreed to a transactional arrangement. Was the arrangement generally fucked up? Of course. Is it sex-work adjacent? Sure. (And that’s not even unpacking the creepy hangup on “selling bodies”. Are farm workers selling their bodies? Are massage therapists? Sex work is selling a service. Don’t be weird.) But, anyway, to flat-out call it “selling his body” strips away the nuance and agency Blitz demonstrates throughout the series. He’s not being coerced or forced into anything; he’s making a calculated decision to gain access to the grimoire in exchange for sex—a service he’s fully in control of providing. (And one that he is implicitly shown to enjoy.)

And let’s not forget: Blitz has made it very clear that he’s comfortable saying “no” to Stolas whenever he wants. From turning down flirtation (“Loo Loo Land”, “Harvest Moon Festival.”) to leaving Stolas right on his literal driveway (“Ozzie’s”), Blitz shows us time and again that he’s perfectly capable of setting boundaries. So the notion that Stolas has this overwhelming power to impose “extra stipulations” whenever he wants? It’s not just a bad analysis—it’s outright fanfiction.

2. Stolas: Power Dynamics, Accountability, and Trying to Do Better

Now, onto Stolas. Yes, he held the upper hand in their initial arrangement, but—and this is key—he took active steps to dismantle that dynamic once he realized it was harmful (Full Moon, anyone?). He didn’t just say, “Eh, it’s fine,” and keep exploiting the situation. He found a way for Blitz to retain access to the Human World without the sex, prioritizing Blitz’s autonomy over his own desires.

Does this sound like a man hellbent on abusing his power? Absolutely not. In fact, it’s a rare example of a character in hell actively reflecting on their flaws and attempting to grow. The argument that Stolas could have added “extra stipulations” at any time is irrelevant because—surprise!—he didn’t. If anything, his actions suggest he’s gone out of his way to not impose on Blitz unnecessarily.

3. Subtext Is Not a Dirty Word

This take also commits the cardinal sin of ignoring subtext, which is borderline comedic given how much of Helluva Boss thrives on it. From the very beginning, the show has been laying the groundwork for Blitz and Stolas’ emotional connection. Blitz’s walls of self-loathing and fear of rejection are juxtaposed with Stolas’ desperation for love and validation. The result is a relationship that is messy, imperfect, and full of potential—not “toxic” as this take lazily asserts.

The idea that “neither of them care about the other” is demonstrably false. Did we all watch Western Energy, where Blitz nearly sacrificed himself for Stolas? Or The Circus, where Stolas sings an entire ballad about finding joy in Blitz? The claim that their relationship lacks personal depth isn’t just wrong—it’s willfully obtuse.

4. Art ≠ Moral Instruction

Let’s address the pearl-clutching over the show supposedly “justifying a toxic relationship.” First, calling their relationship “toxic” is a gross oversimplification that ignores their growth as characters. Second—and more importantly—morality has no place in media analysis.

We’re watching a show about literal demons in hell. It’s not Sesame Street, and it’s not obligated to provide morally perfect examples of relationships. The beauty of Helluva Boss lies in its willingness to explore the messy, complicated dynamics that reflect real human struggles. Art exists to provoke thought and explore complexity—not to handhold us with squeaky-clean moral lessons.

Final Thoughts: A Hot Take That’s Ice-Cold

This take is a masterclass in bad faith. It distorts the narrative, ignores subtext, and weaponizes morality to dismiss a nuanced and evolving relationship. Blitz and Stolas are flawed, yes—but their relationship is rich with depth, vulnerability, and the messy reality of two broken people trying to connect.

So here’s my advice to whoever penned this take: Watch the show again. Engage with the text and the subtext. And stop treating Helluva Boss like it’s supposed to be your personal guide to moral behavior.

Now, who’s next? Crushbot is just getting warmed up. 🤖😈