#LOOK he's the embodiment of too much loyalty

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

LOVE ME HARDER!

you swear your favorite color has nothing to do with kaiser. but unluckily for you, the boy’s fallen madly in love with you and has somehow convinced himself that he can connect the dots to make you fall madly in love with him. when you meet his flirting with a tough front though, kaiser has a secret weapon up his sleeve (or under his uniform collar).

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): reader’s favorite color is blue, kaiser’s tattoo isn’t super visible with his uniform in this fic

You loved blue.

You still do. And for the foreseeable future, you weren’t going to ever stop loving the color. It was a color so dear and special to you, and as much as you loved all the other colors, there was something indescribable about the blue hue.

It was everywhere. The color of the sky. The ocean. The small Google Docs icon while you scribbled down notes on your computer. A stray car in the distance while you crossed the road. It was the color of loyalty and knowledge, the cool tones even embodying the mystifying feeling of melancholy. And, if you allowed yourself to get a little pretentious and philosophical, probably the color of the universe. 

What a dignified color. You would never stop loving blue. Not ever. Certainly not now. And you would never extinguish your love of the color because of a man.

But boy, was someone making it difficult.

You always heard him before you saw him: the rumble of footsteps, Ness gushing incoherent praise, the shrill trill of German words hanging in the air. Like an overture before a grand opera, except those thirty seconds were the only prep time you’d get to turn on your heel and book it out of there if you didn’t want to say hello to your biggest headache.

“Oh, daaaarling! There you are! Hey- Don’t run away!”

An outstretched pair of arms materialized on either side of your body, and you let out a loud yelp before you were pulled backwards into a tight hug. You screeched like a feral cat, clawing helplessly at the air while a loud haughty laugh rang out against your eardrums.

It was only when you turned around that the sense of hearing gave out to the sense of sight. Beautiful strands of blond-blue hair swept across your eyes, the twinkle of his golden locks not too unlike the catlike gleam in his pupils. Speaking of his eyes, you hated the stupid bastard for how much blue he had on him and more importantly, how good it looked. Even the smug azure of his crinkled eyes made you stop breathing for just a split second, and your lips parted unconsciously as your hatred momentarily dissipated into wonder at the delicate hue.

“Staring at me? Awwwww, do you think I’m handsome? Of course you do. You wouldn't be so starstruck otherwise,” he chuckled. You instantly snapped out of your stupor, and you twisted your face into a disgusted frown.

“Take your hands off of me, you idiot,” you snarled. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”

“Oh? Perfect. I think that’s perfect timing to talk to you.” Kaiser kept one arm slung firmly over your shoulders, expertly placing himself at your side. You dug your heels into the ground and kept your place whenever he tried to edge you closer to his torso, egging you to relax into his touch. “Busy being a little color nerd again? I think it’s adorable that you’d pick your favorite color after me-”

“-I did not pick my favorite color after you,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, and you glared directly up at him (this time, you took extra care not to get lost in his eyes). “Do you really think I don’t have a personality or something? To pick a favorite color after a man?”

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m a pretty charming guy, if I do say so myself. Just now, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. I’d say I wear the color well. Say, if I swapped my red eyeliner out for a blue one, would that make you stare at me even more?”

You wanted to push him off, but you knew better than to engage a professional athlete in a half-wrestle-half-run-for-your-life-thing. “In your dreams. You’re an atrocious mix of colors.”

“Sure.” He easily brushed your words off. He broke out into his usual smug grin, chuckling at you as if he were a cat toying with a mouse. If he could, you swore that he’d gobble you up in one bite and leave no crumbs. “But I’d say blue is totally my color.”

Red hot annoyance flooded your body. This was so unlike you, to be moved to such anger that you’d be thinking of any color other than your favorite cyan hue, but something about this man made you want to beat him to a bloody pulp until he truly was nothing more than a mix of crimson and black and white broken bones. 

“Blue is MY color!” You grumbled. “I liked it even before I met you! Hell, I probably understand it better than you do! Dipping your hair in Kool-Aid and being born with blue eyes doesn’t automatically make blue your color! It’s my favorite color, and me liking it has nothing to do with you! Not everything revolves around you, Kaiser!”

You fumed at him, having blurted out all of the tension mounting inside of your chest. You stood there, wanting to claw off the weight of his arm across your shoulders. You wondered if Kaiser would yell back at you, if those beautiful sapphire eyes of his would narrow into small slits before he’d wind up for the pounce, if he truly would swallow you up into a void of blue nothingness just to prove you wrong.

But instead he threw his head back, and he laughed heartily.

“You’re too funny for your own good.” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye with his other hand, and he barely held himself together long enough to look at you. “The world? Revolve around me? Maybe to all those other stupid commoners. Those brainless fools need a stunning star to guide them. To give them any purpose in life.”

You grimaced, skin crawling with disdain as he yanked you closer. His free hand caressed the outline of your cheeks and jaw, and you let out a small “eep!” as he hooked his fingers under your chin to gingerly lift your face to meet his. You held your breath as the German prodigy leaned in, until the silhouette of his peach-pink lips were much too close to your mouth for your liking.

“But, darling… Oh, my sweet, stupid darling…” His voice was far too smooth for your own liking. Like the lining of a regal blue mink-fur lined cape, the kind you’d see in a 1700s painting of a king, the edge you get from swallowing down a mouthful of ice water. He looked too pleased with himself, having you ensnared perfectly in his arms like this. The thick tension that hung between the two of you felt like poisoned honey, and he shook his head at you mockingly. “If anyone were to pay attention closely, they’d know that the script is much more different for you than it is for those everyday fools.”

“Don’t lump me in your weird fantasy.” You blinked at him defiantly. He pursed his lips slightly, but Kaiser didn’t waver even once. 

“All I want to say is that there’s nothing wrong in admiring beautiful things. If you like blue that much, nothing wrong with admiring the blue on me, is there? It’s unhealthy to deny yourself the things that you love so much.” He let you go finally, and you practically leapt out away from him. “If you don’t want to throw yourself at my feet and beg to play the role of my dedicated love interest, that’s fine too! Although, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to. Anyone would be honored to have my attention the way you do.”

“You’re a self-centered prick. I don’t want to give you any more attention than what I’m already wasting on you.”

“That’s what I’m saying! If you let down your high walls and properly let yourself admire me for the beautiful, charming, handsome guy I am, then it wouldn’t be a waste of your time.” He expertly flicked his hair over his shoulder, winking at you as some of the strands tumbled down his collarbones and back. As atrocious of a haircut as it was, you did have to admit that the color of his weird gradient was very pleasing to your eyes.

But you’d rather eat knives than admit it out loud. 

“You’ll have to try harder than that. Anyone can dye hair,” you muttered, thoroughly unconvinced. “And before you ask, I’m not interested in staring at your eyes either. Blue eyes mean nothing to me. And I can always go buy color contacts off the internet and stare at those instead if I really want to.”

“Boo! That’s so boring! Wouldn’t you want a real living person? Someone with personality?” He pouted.

You rolled your own eyes. “Yeah. Someone that doesn’t have a stick stuck up their ass.”

Kaiser pressed his lips into a line, suddenly lost in heavy thought. He knew your patience was already running thin with him, and while it was frustrating that the typical antics he’d lavish onto his fans wasn’t netting him the reaction he wanted from you, it still thrilled him the same. You were so tough to crack! He knew deep down that you had some heart for him and that you loved admiring beautiful things! And was he not the most beautiful thing of them all? He was skilled, talented, the kind of guy anyone should be flattered to have. All he needed was to convince you with something unique, something that no other groupie or fan of his couldn’t have, and maybe that would be the key to luring you over.

To turn that burning red hatred of yours into a calm, placated blue interest.

“Well, what if I give you something truly special then? If I could show you something that you have to admit is beautiful, would you admire me then?” He offered tentatively. You sniffed, keeping your head held high, but he took your silence to mean that it wasn’t a complete refusal.

He broke out into the biggest grin you had ever seen. Your confidence wavered slightly at his smug smirk, and nervousness prickled over your skin. You held your breath as Kaiser slowly raised his hand to his neck. Two fingers hooked onto the golden collar of his Bastard Munchen uniform, which covered a generous portion of his neck.

He yanked down. 

A flash of deep, royal blue stunned your vision, and your eyes instinctively widened. Kaiser tilted his neck to the opposite side, making sure you could catch a proper glimpse at the part of his throat that was normally concealed by his uniform. You felt like something inside of your brain had violently hit the brakes the moment the color hit your eyes. 

Roses.

Beautiful, beautiful blue roses. 

You’re automatically entranced by them. They’re tattoos, each expertly painted on his skin with a careful hand. The black outline makes the rich hues pop even more against his body, and while you tiptoe forward to catch a better view, you can only make out the better part of one of the bigger roses. The rest are covered by his uniform, and you can see the hint of inked thorns traveling away from the flowers and towards his arm. 

Kaiser instantly caught the shift in energy from you. He wisely kept his mouth shut, but some prideful part of him was celebrating inwardly. He let you step closer to admire the handiwork on his body, your curiosity delighting him to no ends.

You wanted to touch them. To touch him. Oh, you could imagine the feeling of soft rose petals under your fingertips while you were utterly mesmerized by his tattoo, almost forgetting that it was just an inked drawing rather than real flowers.

“Well? Isn’t it lovely?” 

You flinched, snapping back to life. Dumbfounded, you were at a loss for words. It was completely unlike you to not have some kind of mean comeback to snark at him with, but the secret weapon Kaiser had on hand was too much. His tattoo had overwhelmed you in a heartbeat, the artistic touch only making you want to see it again.

But unfortunately for you, he adjusted his uniform back into its regular position with a cruel smile. “See? I knew you’d like it. Do you want to look at it again? Oh, I know you do. C’mon, tell me. Tell me you want to see it again. It’s not like I’m going to refuse.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and very hesitantly, you swallowed back your pride. “Can… Can I see your tattoo again?”

“With pleasure, darling.” He cooed. He paused for a moment, and he pulled you closer towards him. You gulped nervously when he peered down at you, clearly savoring the victory he had earned by pulling wool (or in this case, a lovely tattoo) over your eyes. 

“But why don’t I take you to my room instead? I’ll take off my shirt for you. That way you can see the entire thing. And then you can fawn over me properly. You just said you wanted to see my tattoo again. Those pretty roses,” he leaned in, tempting you over and over with the fleeting memory, “Those pretty, pretty roses that are in your absolute favorite color.”

You were torn, and Kaiser reveled in that tormented expression of yours.

He held his hand out. “No need to be shy. Let me show you all sorts of beautiful blue things, my darling.”

x

[slavonicrhapsody]

Like I do genuinely think they maybe should have replaced Radahn’s appearance with Godwyn’s instead? I know his soul has been slain, but I just like the idea that even the kindly Miquella is still on this naïve journey to become a god and bring back his dead brother to become his lord who honestly wouldn’t really be the same and would probably just be a husk of Death incarnate itself, but he wouldn’t care because he’s still grieving for him.

With that being said, the whole Metyr lore was super good, the whole reveal that the two fingers actually don’t really know what’s going on and they’re kinda just pulling shit out of their ass just adds a whole layer to the tragedy of the game, like all of these events were really for nothing and it just makes the Frenzy Flame ending and Ranni’s ending more understandable

ehhhh I absolutely see where the “it should’ve been Godwyn” mindset comes from and I agree with a lot of the arguments to an extent, but I’m not sure bringing back Godwyn’s soul entirely works for me?

I think Miquella’s attempts to return Godwyn’s soul were always going to fail, because his soul was completely and permanently destroyed by Destined Death. The ending to Gurranq/Maliketh’s quest is basically that things can never be the same again, so I don’t think there’s really a way to bring back Godwyn’s soul without it feeling like a contrivance? I really like the fact that he’s a character who can’t ever be brought back; his death was the catalyst for everything, a point of no return. Godwyn not being able to come back gives Ranni’s actions a special weight, that she was willing to permanently destroy his soul if it meant being free from the Two Fingers.

But with that being said, I absolutely see the sense in saying that Godwyn should’ve been Miquella’s lord. What’s strange to me is that Godwyn was set up in the base game to be a beloved older brother figure to Miquella — there’s the statue of him with Miquella and Malenia at the Haligtree, there’s the Golden Epitaph with Miquella’s prayer that he might die a true death, and there’s the spirit at Castle Sol, implying it was Miquella’s intention to return Godwyn’s soul through the eclipse. And now the DLC says that Miquella always looked up to Radahn as an older brother, when this relationship was never even hinted at in the base game, so it ends up feeling out of nowhere. If Radahn was always the one Miquella envisioned as his consort, then why is Godwyn the only brother he’s ever shown to have had a significant relationship with?

And, it’s also true that Godwyn ending the war against the dragons with diplomacy and bringing about peace really embodies what Miquella would consider admirable, since his quest in the DLC is in part to heal the hurts caused by Marika’s war of vengeance long ago. Radahn, on the other hand, is known for idealizing Godfrey, who helped Marika enact her wars of conquest, and for loving conflict so much that he literally fought the stars themselves. Miquella was said to have admired Radahn for his strength and kindness, but there aren’t really any instances showing Radahn being renowned for his kindness, except for his love for his horse? (the loyalty of his soldiers doesn’t count. Rykard had die-hard soldiers too and we know what he’s like)

On the other hand, I feel like Radahn as Miquella’s consort works thematically as a concept because Miquella’s journey in the Shadow Lands mirror’s Marika’s own ascent to godhood, and Radahn is like Godfrey’s spiritual heir. I’m also compelled by the idea of Miquella idealizing a young Radahn for his strength and kindness, only for Radahn to become corrupt during the Shattering, warring for the sake of war… which is why Miquella brings back specifically the young version of Radahn whom he idealized. It’s like a vision of Radahn colored by a child’s naïveté, and it belies the irony of beginning an “Age of Compassion” with the demigod who idealized war the most at his side. I think all of this makes for a more interesting story than Miquella somehow bringing back Godwyn’s soul.

BUT I still believe that this story was not developed enough. Again, we don’t SEE enough of Radahn’s relationship to Miquella hinted at beforehand, so this FEELS like a cheap plot twist. Godwyn was the one with the established relationship to Miquella in the base game, so it being revealed that Radahn was actually the one he always wanted to be his lord is like… huh? since when???

anyway I also really loved Count Ymir’s quest and the revelations about the Fingers… the Two Fingers say that the Greater Will hasn’t abandoned this realm, but I think it’s clear now that they’ve been without the Greater Will’s guidance for a long, long time. Since we know Count Ymir was Rellana’s teacher, I wonder if his distrust in the guidance of the Fingers somehow came to influence Ranni?

[agentrouka-blog]

What made you first interested in Jonsa? I really want to love Jonsa. Which may sound strange. But hear me out. I’ve read all the metas and from a metatextual level I really agree with and believe in Jonsa. But I have trouble actually enjoying it and I think maybe it’s because so much content seems to focus on Jon pining over Sansa. I’d much prefer to see things from Sansa’s perspective where she sees the hero in him and sees that maybe all the songs aren’t lies after all as opposed to him “winning her over.” I feel I have been inundated my whole life with stories of outcast men pining over beautiful women they see as out of their league and “winning them over” and I honestly find the trope tiring because it’s so male perspective focused and doesn’t give Sansa the agency of choosing her lover, instead, making her something to be won or earned. If you have any suggestions for Jonsa content that focuses heavily on Sansa’s point of view, on her falling for Jon first (or at least falling for each other at the same time without realizing it) I’d love to hear them! And I’d love to hear what makes Jonsa appeal to you on a personal non-meta level!

Hi there!

I too draw a difference between Jonsa as a theory and shipping it for entertainment.

I've drifted quite a bit away from what you describe as "content", which is fanworks, art and fanfiction. My tastes are very narrow and that puts me outside the target audience for a lot of what is being shared by creators. Plus, I get a great deal more personal enjoyment out of just interpreting the canon text. I enjoy what the couple represents in the narrative more than I necessarily enjoy immersing myself in different non-canonical variants.

And there's a lot of variants. You have two similar but also very different canon-sources (books and tv show) and within those two sources very different takes on the couple. For as many "Jon pines for higborn Sansa" approaches you get an equal amount of "Sansa jealously pines for her brother's oblivious best friend" modern au's. What we enjoy in recreational reading is extremely personal and subjective.

That said, for fear of disappointing you, I don't particular enjoy the "Sansa falls first" scenarios because what I like about the couple especially is the idea of Sansa finally being appreciated for who she is. Canon offers us plenty of examples of Sansa extending affection and crushes on other characters. They are never truly reciprocated, and they join in on a theme of Sansa going unappreciated for her qualities by the world around her. She is disregarded, mocked, criticized, belittled, humiliated. So much so that a large part of the fandom considers this to be justified and educational for her. She has given up on being loved for herself, but she will not sacrifice her values as a consequence. So someone falling in love with her is to me a very compelling and cathartic validation of Sansa as a person. Of course, this only works if the person falling for Sansa is actually attractive to her and embodies the things we know she has been looking for all this time. But specifically the idea that Sansa falls first fails my personal taste because it contains a sense of lacking reciprocation that we've already seen multiple times in her story. She's been not-loved-in-return a lot already.

I do enjoy the concept of Jon being loved by Sansa, too, because it validated aspects of him he usually keeps close to his chest. Things that touch on his specific mixed sense of identity as a nobly-raised bastard. He has soft sensibilities, a romantic disposition, pedestrian dreams of family and home, and highly idealistic and emotional ideals surrounding leadership that center on duty and honor. But he is generally not appreciated for those specific things. He is appreciated for his brains and his abilities, his bravery, his pragmatism, his loyalty to his friends and duties - but not for the boy who wants to be Lord of Winterfell with a lady wife and babies, who wants to be a hero from the songs, Florian the Fool, Ryam Redwyne. It's a lovely and very specific recognition of a very private part of Jon, to be loved for his secret soft self.

But it's not my primary focus because unlike Sansa, Jon still receives a lot of validation and love in the source material. It's just not the specific kind he wants. So that makes it comparatively less compelling to me.

That doesn't mean that Sansa primarily falling in love with Jon isn't an equally valid thing to enjoy! It's just that I can't make you any good recommendations on this subject specifically because it's not my specific favorite flavor of jonsa.

I wish you good luck though!

[wordsvomit101]

Reverse AU: What if... 'You' are his favorite fictional character.

Summary: In their mundane human lives, filled with ups and downs, there’s one constant: you. As a beloved character from the pages of fiction, they find themselves irresistibly drawn to you. Though you exist by someone else imaginations, your presence brings a daily dose of joy and inspiration. Now, imagine their sheer amazement when they stumble upon you in the real world, a living, breathing embodiment of their cherished fictional hero.

Warning: A small bit of yandere, not too much. A lot of how they were as human are my hcs. I have a lot of fun putting them in different scenarios as you can tell.

Satan

In his youth, Satan was a notorious troublemaker, causing endless headaches for adults while earning the admiration of his peers. As the leader of a biker gang and winner of many martial arts competitions, he was the coolest guy around—both in school and in his neighborhood. Even his rivals admitted it. His rebellious nature led to frequent clashes with authorities, stemming from countless property damage incidents, noise complaints, and weekly brawls—many of which he instigated. Despite the chaos, Satan was well-liked and respected. His unwavering commitment to his word and reputation as a tough but honorable man inspired loyalty wherever he went, making people feel they could rely on him no matter the circumstances. These traits even managed to draw in the uptight Sitri from another neighborhood, who became his right-hand man and later his manager when Satan turned professional racer.

As a child, Satan was a huge fan of action and sports movies and TV series. Speeding through the streets on his motorbike made him feel alive, and he sought out any media that thrilled him and distracted him from his depression and insomnia. When he wasn't smoking or drinking himself to sleep, his gang members or Sitri would take him back to his empty home. His parents had long given up trying to discipline him and make him follow their path as upstanding citizens—wealthy socialites—in the upper echelon of society. So they left him the house, some workers to clean and cook, and helped with the bills. Aside from that, he was on his own. These movies and TV series made him feel less alone when he didn't have company over. One of his favorites was about a secret military project that endangers a post-dystopian country by turning a biker gang member into a rampaging psychic psychopath, who can only be stopped by a teenager, his gang, and a group of psychics.

Satan both loved and hated this movie. Beyond the action and the dream of owning the red motorcycle featured in the film, he adored a side character who was a close friend of the main character. He was enraged when they died sacrificing themselves for the protagonist. Back then, he deluded himself into believing that he could save that friend if he were the main character. When he confided this to Sitri or Mammon, they only patted him on the back and looked at him with sadness or amusement. He punched and kicked them both. Satan continues to watch the movie throughout his life, despite the gore and violence. Whenever the side character is on the screen, they calm him, and their soothing words lull him to sleep every time.

As an adult, successful and owning his dream red motorcycle, Satan became a respected racer and moved far away from that empty house, carrying only the good memories with him. His love for the movie, especially the side character, remained strong. When he heard about a sequel to the original, he abandoned his photoshoot schedule, leaving an angry Sitri behind, and raced to be the first in line for a ticket. The movie, set in an alternate scenario where his beloved character is still alive, elated him. Whenever they appeared, he grinned with pure joy, his eyes full of love, causing those beside him to be flustered by his radiance. He mentally thanked every animator who brought the character to life and wished he could capture every moment they were on screen with his phone.

Imagine his surprise when, after winning a prestigious motorcycle racing event, he heads to the hotel bar and catches a glimpse of you through the windows—real and breathing the same air as him—walking out of the hotel with your luggage. Heart pounding, Satan races down to the ground floor, but by the time he arrives, you’ve already vanished, leaving him in a mix of anger and disappointment. Yet, there’s no doubt in his mind. He knows it was you, your distinctive look and walk burned into his memory for years. From that day forward, he leverages every connection at his disposal to track you down, enduring months of fruitless searching until Lady Luck finally smiles upon him.

When he sees you talking to the receptionist at his usual gym, he can't contain himself and tackles you into a crushing hug. He savors every micro-expression you make—the way your breath grazes his face, how lovely your voice sounds when you yelp in shock, and how you grip his shoulders, trying to push him away. You are real. This realization sends a shiver down his spine, and his elated grin remains even when you slap him for hugging you out of nowhere. The sting on his cheek feels incredible, and he almost wants you to continue, but he lets you go. Despite his intense desire to carry you off and shower you with kisses, he knows he has to be patient. He has all the time in the world to get to know you better.

Sitri

As the sole legacy of his grandmother, Sitri carries the weight of her expectations when she sends him to the city for a better education, arranging for him to live with a close acquaintance. It was the first time he took the train too. Determined not to worry her, he strives to be responsible: studying diligently, maintaining his health, avoiding trouble, making friends, and being respectful to others. His life is simple yet challenging, easy yet demanding—truly mundane. The bright spots were learning about various teas and the art of tea making from his grandmother, engaging with his fascinating neighbors next door in their apartment complex, and playing drums in his school band with Juno, Belial, and Jiyu.

Until Satan discovered him during a school festival performance and promptly recruited him into the gang, Sitri was used to leading a relatively quiet life, though not anymore after that fateful day. The constant headaches from the trouble he had to resolve for his new gang members and the concern from his grandmother and his guardian seemed enough to turn his hair white from stress. Yet, this chaos brought color and excitement to his life, much like discovering new flavors of tea that thrilled his senses. Satan gave him a place where he felt he belonged, new people to care for, and a friend he promised to follow for the rest of his life.

Sitri never met his parents, and his grandmother didn't like talking about them, so he refrained from asking. Sometimes, he forgot they existed unless someone mentioned them. If asked whether he missed them, he would say he didn't; it was impossible to miss people he never knew. However, he did feel a deep connection to a character whom he has always yearned to have in his life from an old drama—which became a significant part of his childhood and adulthood—about a spy agency retrieving a stolen martial arts manual, leading to epic battles and encounters. The protagonist, along with his friends, ultimately defeats the villains and chooses to roam the martial arts world.

Growing up in a retirement community, he was surrounded by elderly folks who treated him like their own grandson, so he rarely felt lonely despite not having peers his age. However, before meeting his friends and Satan, he always wondered what it would be like to have a friend his age to share adventures with. The main character’s friendship with a beloved side character, who taught valuable lessons and provided unwavering support, made him especially envious. When that character left the story, Sitri was deeply heartbroken and sulked for days until his grandmother gifted him a mug with the character's silhouette carved on it by an old uncle at her request. That mug became his favorite for drinking tea, a treasured item that no one else, not even Satan, was allowed to use.

Despite his affection for Satan as a leader and a friend, managing Satan's temper and tendency to get into trouble was no easy task. This challenge was compounded by the constant bombardment of calls and texts from their former biker gang members—most of which were thoughtful inquiries about their well-being, but after an hour of chatting, his phone would become hot from the incessant vibrations. What kept Sitri's sanity intact were the generous paychecks he received for handling PR nightmares and the quiet nights he spent with tea and snacks, re-watching his favorite childhood drama just to see his beloved character's face on the screen. One evening, seeking relief from the headache induced by Satan's latest chaos, Sitri went to a bar. While massaging his forehead and groaning after a phone call with an agent, he heard a clink next to him.

Looking up, he nearly choked from the shock. There you were, sitting next to him with a friendly but concerned expression, offering him a warm cup of black tea. You looked exactly like his favorite character, even your mannerisms were identical. His heart pounded harder as he noticed the simple gestures you made that were the same habits you have in the drama. When you tilted your head gently in confusion at his silence, blood rushed to his face and south. Quickly, before you could leave, he grabbed your hands and, with fervent eyes and equally sweaty hands, gasped out a question for your name, struggling to breathe from the excitement and disbelief. Everything doesn't feel real but his entire body screams for him to never let go of your hands.

Juno P. Cruel 666 Orgasm

Juno had always been hailed as the best in his clan: the most handsome, the strongest, the smartest, the most talented. It was obvious that the clan elders had a favorite among the children, and it quickly became irritating to hear them constantly brag about him as if they had birthed him themselves. They would say he would never disappoint them, that he would honor the clan by joining politics or taking over the family's massive military manufacturing business. Juno hated it. He wished that some of his relatives would hate him enough to challenge his position. What baffled him even more was how his cousins could respect and look up to him despite the unfair comparisons. He liked them and wanted them to succeed, but he wished they would show some dissatisfaction with the situation.

Juno had always admired Satan's powerful aura and leadership. Joining his gang was an act of defiance, but the elders dismissed it as a childish tantrum, saying he would get his act together eventually. Juno felt ridiculous for harboring anger when he was the privileged one, handed everything on a golden platter without effort. From home to school, it was the same. There was even a sizable fan club dedicated to him since middle school, which grew when he became a guitarist in a band. While they rarely bothered him, it was embarrassing when their actions affected bystanders. He never knew how to explain to his friends why he had to apologize for his fan club's behavior. Despite this, he couldn't dislike them; many were good people if you ignored their fixation on him. The club leader even introduced him to his long-time obsession: a novel about an idol group that debuted from an idol survival show. The group had been involved in many controversies since its debut and lost more than half its initial members. However, with the help of their new manager and staff, they turned their situation around and fought their way to the top of the industry.

The novel was compelling, showcasing the intricate sides of the idol world with a great cast of characters and dynamics. Juno's favorite character is the manager who helps the struggling group, sticking by them through thick and thin and giving them a chance to succeed in a harsh environment. He read the novel dozens of times, never getting the urge to throw it away, even when it became worn from being hastily packed into his bag. At some point, he ran away from home with only his clothes, personal items, and the novel when it was announced he would officially be the next head of the business. He drove his motorcycle aimlessly until it carried him to his closest friend's house. Zagan found him sitting outside his family antique store, finally calming down from the adrenaline rush.

Zagan and his grandfather offered to house Juno temporarily until he graduated and found his own place. Juno was grateful and content to stay with Zagan's family, helping around until a new idol project aired on a broadcasting channel. This reminded him of the novel the feeling that it was his calling urging him every day until it led him to audition for the show. He had never experienced anything more intense. Compared to other trainees, he was like a fish out of water. His core beliefs and confidence were shattered countless times by online haters, behind-the-scenes producers, instructors evaluating the trainees' skills, or his endlessly talented peers, some even four years younger than him. It was hard, even with support from his fans, but the situation only made him cling to the novel like a lifeline. He devoured every letter to ground himself, gripping the manager's advice as if he were there with them, following their lead to survive through sleepless nights.

Juno succeeded in the end. His stage name, Ppyong, reached the top spot, and he became the face of the group due to his large popularity and underdog story. Many broadcasting shows wanted to invite him and the group, his gag jokes became viral hits, and the group's songs became international sensations. They faced many baseless controversies from antis, and smear campaigns from his clan, or by the elders and his parents. As well as terrible management teams, and an old-fashioned PR team, but they pushed through. Juno almost built a shrine for the novel since he sometimes relying on the manager's advice and knowledge to navigate group meetings and problems. He was always jealous of how the idol group in the story had the manager with them, and the bitter feeling only intensified each time he reread the story. Even his teammates joked about his obsession in interviews.

He could only cry when he saw you sitting across from him during a fan meeting, gifting him a small box of his favorite snack, Ferrero Rocher. Through his tears and snot, he noticed your surprise and fussing over him in the soft, sweet tone he had dreamed of hearing for years. He wanted to reach out, to take your hands and feel their warmth, but with the eyes watching and the risk of jealous fans targeting you, he restrained himself. He gave a half lie, put on his usual cheery attitude, and sneakily wrote down his number and a meeting location on the exclusive merch you gave him to sign. He drank in your beautiful, blushing face as he winked at you when you noticed.

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Why Crosshair Will Live

(aka an essay by a Crosshair girlie who loves her clone husband too much)

So, I've been thinking long and hard about the final season and how it could end. Obviously, it's gonna be an emotional rollercoaster and all that. However, there's always going to be discourse about who's gonna bite it, especially since our main characters don't have plot armor and this show is allowed to go way darker than Rebels. Crosshair is my favorite character and I don't hide that at all. He's all over my page. But looking at his character, there's a part of me that believes he actually might make it out in one piece. Let's get started!

"Redemption Equals Death"- Out of all the tropes, this is the one Crosshair embodies the most. He was the villain for a season, but now he's changing his ways. In past seasons, I would've said this is how his story ends. His brothers find him and Omega on Tantiss and he goes out protecting them, proving he deep down he still loved them. But after season 3, I don't think that's the case anymore. I think he's passed the point. Crosshair in season 3 is actively redeeming himself through his actions and words with his family and the other clones. We don't need to see him go out in some big self-sacrifice because we already see the person he truly is inside. More importantly, his family sees the person he's become. He's already proven it in so many ways. Crosshair openly admitted his mistakes, saved Hunter from the wyrm, is very protective of Omega, and saved his brothers, Omega, and Rex + Howzer from CX-2. At this point, Crosshair has passed the "redemption equals death" marker. His redemption is playing out and the people around him are seeing the changes.

His Character Arc- Crosshair's character arc has always been about loyalty and identity. Go all the way back to season 1 with the infamous "this is who I am" line and his whole spiel about the Batch not being loyal to him. "Aftermath" shows us this poor man already beginning to struggle. In season 2, Crosshair is going through every hurt no comfort fic trope in the book. This man was pushed to the brink, with every sense of his being questioned. And he almost didn't make it. Crosshair in "The Outpost" was so close to dying after trekking through the blizzard and shooting Nolan. He's suffered through so much already from being severely burnt to freezing, and now almost drowning. Pretty much half way through season 3 and Crosshair's trials aren't over. His hand is still bothering him and he's still trying to find himself.

Although Crosshair has made peace with his family, I believe he still needs to make peace with himself. He's been humbled sure, but there's more to go. Who is he if he isn't a soldier or sharpshooter? Crosshair's arc will probably finish with him realizing being a soldier isn't entirely who he is. His hand tremor still could be related to his internal conflict, we don't know. So far, he's doing a great job. We've seen Crosshair begin to find peace on Pabu and comfort with Omega. It would be so satisfying to see him make it out of this mess alive. My best BB ending would be him (and his brothers) alongside Omega retired somewhere. They have each other and that is enough.

His Poster and Theme- Crosshair is the only character as of right now in the Batch who has a separate poster for season 3. Not even Omega has a separate one (although I can see her getting one later). In fact, Omega shares her with Crosshair. Both are wearing their prison outfits, showing their shared situation and stand against a white/grey backdrop. We also see Cross gripping his right hand, referring to the issue he's having with it. However, he also has one of himself in the same golden lighting as his brothers. Crosshair stares at his helmet with a calm look on his face and appears to be contemplating. That has to mean something. From my POV, I get the sense he's wondering about who he is. Wouldn't it be a great ending if Cross finds himself and lives to see that self be happy?

He is also the only member of the Batch (Omega aside) to have his own theme/leitmotif. He has two actually: his Imperial one and his heroic one. His heroic theme aka the "Mayday" theme is stunning and highlights his struggle perfectly. You can actually hear it in season 1 fun fact but it's faint. The fact that he does have a separate poster and theme from the others does give me hope that he will make it. Not to say that the others aren't important, but something about Crosshair and his journey is very meaningful to have warranted this. You can argue that he shares the title of "heart of the show" to some degree because his arc is the most dynamic of all the Batch. His struggles and fight back towards the light truly raise this show to greatness.

Crosshair is also season 3's "Batcher of Year" award and so far, they're doing everything we wanted and more. For two whole seasons, his character has been building and building towards this season. And they better give us a great payoff. Crosshair's character going to continue to soar as the season progresses. I can definitely see him making it through to the end because of the focus on him.

Omega- how can we forget about the kid who never gave up on our grumpy sniper? Omega (and we can argue Cross to a lesser degree) is the heart of the show. She gives the Batch a new outlook on life and it is through her that they grow and change. Omega brings out the paternal and softer side in each of her brothers. Crosshair, however, takes a bit longer to get there. He's the only character whose main development happens away from Omega. When he finally gets home, he becomes Crossdad. But Omega is still a kid, despite her capabilities. If the other Batchers die, who will take care of her? Omega being on her own just doesn't feel right. We also know going off with Rex wouldn't feel satisfying either even though he would take really good care of her.

Now that Crosshair is back, it feels like the show is propping him up to take over Hunter's role. Hunter parented for 2 whole seasons. As the mentor figure, he might bite it. But wait! Crosshair is still here. There is no way the writers would just let Omega finish alone or get killed off. She will have someone with her. Crosshair, having spent the majority of the show away, will probably be the best candidate narratively speaking. As mentioned above, he gets two posters showing just how integral he is this season. He's also been getting a lot of screen time with Omega. So, I can definitely see the show ending with just the two of them left. It would be bittersweet, but still satisfying.

Disney- let's ask the question: would Disney kill off an entire family aside from their child? My best guess is no (this isn't a Disney movie with a prince to save the day). Tying into my last point, I can't see this family-friendly company letting a literal child lose her entire family and end up all alone in the end. We all saw Rogue One and we know that this is a plausible option. However, I'm beginning to think that they aren't gonna do that because again, Omega is a child. She's gonna hopefully have one, if not all, her brothers alongside her. And I swear, if they give her to someone else not named Crosshair, Hunter, Wrecker, or Echo, I will blow a gasket. She needs her family. Disney and Star Wars is all about hope and it's not very hopeful to me if all of the BB but Omega dies.

Rebuttal- let's get this out of the way: if Cross dies, it will be with his brothers, protecting Omega, and defeating Hemlock. There is literally no other way he could go out that would be satisfying. He's redeemed and fought the Ghost of Crosshair's Future (aka CX-2). Backpedaling on his character arc would suck. If he dies, it will be as a Bad Batcher, a loving brother, and the best sniper the galaxy has ever seen.

But I don't think that will happen. I do genuinely think Crosshair has a chance to survive. But what do you guys think? Obviously, I'll still be nervous about the whole thing, but I'm trying here.

[celaenaeiln]

12 am anon back at it again. my friend called me at 2 am, tipsy on i wanna say wine??? and ranted about how nightwing’s “superpower” is his charisma for like 15 mins . and then they talked about how he looks like he’d have a great spice tolerance before hanging up. i think its a hyperfixation .

I absolutely love it!! You and your friend just have the best conversations ever.

Your ask immediately reminded me of this scene from YJ Season 3

"That's just about everyone. Wasn't sure they'd all respond."

"You command more respect than you realize."

"I'm starting to get that."

Literally this boy has charisma oozing out of his pores. It absolutely is his superpower!

Charisma is known as "a personal magic of leadership arousing special popular loyalty or enthusiasm for a public figure" or "the quality of being able to attract, charm and influence those around you." And Dick is the living embodiment of it.

It's actually a canon trait of his

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #5

Dick has the unique ability to lead people. It's not just about telling others what to do, it's people wanting to follow him, listen to him, and and accepts his commands of their own volition.

In the DC/RWBY comic, the RWBY team crosses over to Gotham with all their problems so they have to work together with Batman, Batgirl, and Nightwing (Ruby REALLY gets along with Dick which for some reason makes so much sense idk why). And the batfamily get superpowers.

And DC-

DC LITERALLY WENT-

DC/RWBY Issue #3

THEY ACTUALLY GAVE HIM THE POWER OF INSPIRATION. THEY SAID "if anyone has the ability to lead people to a better life, give them light and hope, and be everyone's favorite leader and savior, then there is only one person to which we can attribute this power to."

Inspiration is the factor that leads people to moving mountains, becoming greater, and changing our entire lives and everyone else and Dick is the one who bestows that power.

He literally inspires people to be better and inspires them to follow him and became the greatest they can be.

Teen Titans (2003) Issue #33

He just has the ability to inspire people to reach greater heights. The younger generation, his own, and the older ones kind of hero worship him.

Charisma is a dangerous power to have. It's essentially the unique ability to convince people to want to do things for you.

Examples of charismatic leaders are Martin Luther King Jr, Joan of Arc, Fidel Castro, and Napolean.

These people moved nations, worlds, societies but they are only one person. And Dick, has the ability to do this too.

To describe him as a person, to describe his charismatic authority, you need to combine all those figures into one person. And that's the equivalent of his power.

Because in the comics when he wants something - the whole superhero society answers.

The Titans (1999) Issue #39

On a separate note, Dick does have a high spice tolerance!

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #1

Also Romani food is made hot and spicy, commonly using chili, paprika, and red and black pepper. So he can definitely handle the heat.

Lol I'm just imagining Dick absent-mindedly chewing on a red chili pepper while he watches Garth dare Wally to eat a ghost pepper while Donna's rolling her eyes and Roy's hyperventilating on the floor because he's having flashbacks to Ollie's Chilli.

[sunnysideaeggs]

some criticisms i have of episode 2. read the tags first please.

disclaimer: i am a targtowers’ stan first and foremost. that means: aegon, helaena, aemond and daeron. they’re my favorite characters. that’s where my ‘loyalty’ stands. everyone else (including alicent) comes after.

helaena’s grief should’ve been a bigger point in the episode. this is HER episode and aegon’s (i’m not complaining about him but her screentime was so low). everyone else, rhaenyra, alicent, yada yada is secondary.

alicent can light up candles for her enemy’s son but can’t even attend the funeral of her grandson 🙄 she doesn’t cry, curse the blacks, want to bathe in the blood of jaehaerys’ killers, or can even bring herself to say his name.

i love aegon’s performance. i love all of his grief manifested in rage and anger. he cries but he will kick everyone later. tom go get your emmy.

girl your daughter just lost a son and you want to talk about you fucking your bodyguard. i’m tired of her. helaena is with all right of ignoring her.

once upon a time there was a boy that loved horses 😭 jaehaerys my dear

a larys/aegon scene is all i could wish for. the cold mastery of secrets and torture combined with the unstoppable wrath of a wounded man. i need more of them.

i like how the funeral seems, by all accounts, normal but by helaena’s viewpoint everything is too much. the people claim for her showing support but it’s all noise. the carriage showing her little boy so that people know who to blame but it only reminds her more of what happened. he even looks like he’s sleeping.

tbh this scene shows how rhaenyra doesn’t fucking care about helaena and her children. the first thought she had when she heard of the news wasn’t to have compassion or empathy, but to do damage control and worry about her reputation.

lmao i don’t have a clue what daemon’s intentions and rationality is. he only cares about looking mighty and dangerous to other people even when he does dumb shit, then justifies it. he lives only for other people’s opinions but then everyone hates his ass lol. dilffailure.

also he’s the embodiment of living for a dick measuring contest he ends up losing. all of daemon’s behavior can be attributed to erectile dysfunction.

how the writers found time for an oc prostitute having a mommy kink scene with aemond but didn’t have more time for a longer scene with helaena and literally anyone is beyond me.

aemond talking about his regret for luke but not about the death of his nephew 💀 luke died like three years ago condal pls get over it. aemond would care more about jaehaerys than poor little luke.

some much needed baela character development. i love characters that are like the female version of their dad but then also fucking hate their dad lol

i liked the tidbits of the dragonseeds during the episode. i’d like some nettles too :) but i guess the only female and canonically black character is a little too much for this show amirite :)

of course daemon would never be able to bend to anyone he considers inferior, much less rhaenyra, who under any other circumstance would be seen as ‘lesser than him’. it reminds him of his failures. i’m glad we’re on the same page.

aegon never had a chance right? aegon was literally raised by hightowers in love with targaryens. he never would’ve been able to surpass viserys and rhaenyra in otto and alicent’s eyes. nothing he did could’ve changed that.

otto’s little laugh cost him a job lol. i’m sad we didn’t get his cats.

the focus on rhaenyra in the arryk/erryk fight is too much for me. once again, leave secondary characters have their moments instead of shoving r or a down my throat please. this is their especial moment, their last moment. rhaenyra being all 😨🧍🏼‍♀️ between their shots does nothing for the scene.

otto’s realization of his life’s work being flushed down the drain is so touching and painful in a way to me. he’s like tywin if he lived long enough to see cersei and tommen fuck everything up.

‘i have sinned’ ‘i do not wish to hear of it’ that’s peak cersei and tywin from that one scene when she confessed the incest.

daeron exists? yay. and once again i’m fucking tired of alicent not reacting to mention of daeron, not comforting helaena, bashing aemond, ignoring aegon. where’s the love for her children?

the scene of otto putting resting his face on his hands? chills. it should’ve lingered there. showcase otto’s regret? grief? idk. pity it just lasted half a second because we needed to see alicent once more.

from now on, alicent is cancelled for me. i don’t care anymore about her. any parent that leaves their child in distress to go fuck can eat shit. i gave that treatment to daemon in laena’s funeral and i’m giving it to her.

we have more sex scenes of alicent than we have of daemon and aegon combined. yet she’s the pious queen and they’re the lechers. condal please write accordingly.

how do i watch a show when i don’t care for the two main characters, because they’re cardboard cuts of women who don’t do anything? i don’t know.

[monalogs]

Hey!!! HI!!! YOUR FANFICS ARE SO GOOD AACK

Can we (the starved) please have a Nyen dating hcs?? The reader can also be Luther's pet hshshshshs I'm literally going insane godd I'm so sorry Nyen's just so... So fucking fine..

Dating headcannons ! | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - degradation, sadism, biting/marking, blood kink, predator/prey kink, mentions of killing, hes bad at emotions okay

a/n - trying to figure out how i want to format hcs so ignore that this looks different than the luther dating hcs. please. anyhoots whos dating hcs should i start doing next >.>

Hates you a little (probably)

Not in the “wants make you suffer and kill you” type of way he usually hates, but rather the “why do you make me feel this way?” type

How you make his cheeks redden and his palms sweaty, sharp nails digging into his own skin in overwhelming nervousness. It makes him feel weird, no matter how hard he tries to hide it

To care for someone other than his master, especially just a weak, pathetic pet like you… Nyen thinks in turn it makes him weak and pathetic

Nyen knows loyalty from Luther. Knows satisfaction and pleasure from killing. But genuine love? It made him want to tear his heart out just to stop it from beating so fast when he sees you

The romance manga Randal gifted him hadn’t prepared him at all. He's reread them and reread them in an attempt to understand how he should feel but he still needed time to wrap his head around the reality of being in a relationship

Did feel like he needed permission from his master to be with you. Thankfully, Luther was happy (how cute!) as long as it didn't affect his pet duties. Nyen doesn't know what he would've done if Luther said no.

Doesn't like terms like boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, you're just his.

Calls you baby or sweetheart. Some pet names you’d hear a trashy construction worker catcall a woman down the street with. His gruff voice doesn't help

Doesn't really care what you call him as long as it isn't sickly sweet… does have the smallest thing for being called sir… but only in private!

He most likely wouldn't act much like a good boyfriend in front of people. Sorry, his own pride is just too high to look all lovey-dovey in front of others

Basically the embodiment of “he's just bullying you because he likes you!” you’d get from an adult when a boy would torment you in school. Except he actually does like you. Weirdo

Nyen’s more comfortable when it’s just you, which means he doesn't feel the need to be brooding and scary in private

Loves to lay on your lap and have his head pet while he reads or watches television like the catman he is. Eventually falls asleep after some time so don't dare move.

Nyen’s schedule tends to be the same, he's not all about change. His day consists of doing what Luther tells him, working out, and watching out for pests or danger

Still about the same since you guys have been together, but he tries include you in his day as much as possible

It can be nice, like him wanting you to watch him workout. Making sure to show off his abs and biceps… acts like he doesn't do it on purpose for you to oogle at

Nonchalantly boasts about how he can pick you up with ease, no matter what you weigh

Has in fact proved it multiple times by carrying you around place to place

Wouldn't mind you exercising with him– but be careful. He's a harsh trainer, can and will push you until you're a sweaty, exhausted mess. Kinda turns him on…

Other times, he’ll drag you into more dangerous or scary situations just so he can protect you

You're his perfect damsel in distress, someone to run into his arms and hold closely

Actually wouldn’t let you be in real danger. But if he knows he can handle it, (which he can) he’s not opposed to your praise about how he’s saved you

On the opposite end, Nyen also enjoys playing hunting and chasing games with you. There are times when he has taken you to a nearby forest, releasing your hand where the evergreens are the thickest, and in his low voice, he says, “Run.”

He loves to focus on the scurry of leaves crunching beneath your feet, the sight of your figure trying to keep up ahead of him, and the sound of your rapid breathing as he gets closer and closer

Nyen pounces and catches you every single time, dark pupils dilated with pure adrenaline as he constrains you. Hours will pass before you’re home again

There's not many date-like activities Nyen is interested in doing. Nyen doesn’t care to plan them, you live together anyways!

But if you insist, a picnic is the go-to. Simple, outside of the house, and he gets to have as much beer and undercooked chicken as you can stuff into a basket

Can also take you out on late night drives. Speeding down long, tree lined roads as CD music blasts with a hand resting on your thigh. (Nice!)

Does go out of his way to hit any animal(man?) unfortunate enough to be on the road. If he manages, he’ll pull over and make you look at the mangled body with him (Not so nice.)

Lots of territorial behavior. Nyen loves to share his extra clothes or his cigs (if you smoke) so you’re smelling like him. It just connects you two together, without having to say a word

Speaking of territorial… marks a lot. Biting, scratching, hickies. Even bruises if he's extra rough

He doesn't let you hide them. Would probably explode if he caught you trying to cover them with makeup or clothes and end up punishing you by marking even more

Libido is very high. Didn't actually get much action before being with you, mostly jerking off after a successful kill

But with you? Practically at any chance, he will

Doesn't care if you haven't showered, shaved, or prepped in any way. Will always find you incredibly attractive and irresistible

Even if you have periods, he’ll still pin you against the wall and rub his cock against you. The blood turns him on baby!

Has a fantasy of you being covered in the blood of one of his victims while he fucks you. Maybe less of fantasy and more of a goal. One day…

Treats it like a game, pulling and teasing you beforehand. Nails dug into your hips, a low voice in your ear whispering about how you’ve been teasing him “like the slut you are”

Drags you away from whatever you're doing. Not sneaky or polite when he pins you against the closest surface available, the only gentleness being the steady growl of his voice. Nothing possibly can't be as important as the need to stuff his aching cock inside what's his

Has fucked you in every room besides his Master’s and Randal’s. Would just be too weird…

Wants to see you in every angle, lighting, position possible. Every feature of you is etched into his brain. Knows you down to the freckle

A sadist (duh), but cares about you feeling good too. Won't hurt you too bad, though his definition of what is too bad might be different from yours. He wants you alive and mostly conscious

Made an effort to learn proper aftercare and to be less selfish, as he never felt the need to before

Still uses too much teeth when giving head and offers you a lukewarm bottle of water after sex… but it's the thought that counts!

Has a bunk with Nyon and still makes you sleep with him. Problem tends to be that it's wayyyy too tiny for both of you. You’ve complained to him to ask Luther for a bigger and separate bed but he gruffly responded for you to shut up and let him spoon in peace

Kicks Nyon out of the room a lot so it could just be the two of you. It's almost childish, bitching and hissing if Nyon doesn't give up his space. Poor guy, he just wants to lay in bed and smoke :/

Bit of a night owl, doesn't actually need to sleep much yet he still likes to. but does so very late. You’ll only know he's in bed when he snores against your neck

Always awake first, he's got more important things to do than lay around in bed with you (as he claims)

Will come back a bit later and wake you up with a cup of the most bitter black coffee in a cheesy matching mug. Just as an apology for the scratch and bite marks leading between your thighs he gave you last night. Drink it all, it's rude if you don't :(

[circinuus]

I just got this idea and I’m so excited to share it, can you do dazai with a seductive & intelligent reader who acts cheerful to deceive others with her “innocence”? How would she and dazai act, would they have intellectual talks and debate with each other on controversial matters, would they plan, observe or strategize together? Would dazai attempt to fluster her? + spice headcannons please :)

dazai with a "charming" reader

1.1k words. fem! reader

[unestablished relationship; reader is lowkey manipulative; sadly no spice bc i can't write them :') ]

❥ thank you for sharing nonnie i love the idea so much!! fingers crossed i'm going in the right direction with this.

You're no one important; a new secretary freshly accepted into the Armed Detective Agency, not any less nice and compassionate than Miss Haruno or Cafe Uzumaki's lovely waitress.

‎

You're such a sweet thing. You even looked genuinely concerned when our local suicidal man threw a suicide offer! A perfect package: You embody a charming person who is compassionate and caring to her colleagues; very devoted to her job; topped with a benevolent personality. It shows through the good-natured "How are you," the cups of coffee you fetch for everyone to start the day, and the generous offers of paperwork assistance (which Dazai failed to accept before Kunikida starts berating you for being 'too nice').

‎

You're so kindhearted that your actions seem to revolve around everyone else. But Dazai is smart enough to see how in truth, it was the other way around.

‎

You're not in the office? Everyone notices and is worried about your absence. Atsushi second-guessing himself? You're so agreeable and encouraging; so much so that he came to trust you more than he trusts himself. Is Ranpo being reluctant in a case? "Ranpo-san," you tilt your head, "This case is definitely too trivial to be handled by a detective of your caliber. But I trust The Greatest Detective more than anyone else." It didn't need Ranpo more sweet briberies to get him on and going to the crime scene.

"I stand with Kyouka, President," It was a fine afternoon in the agency. Your sentence rings firm as you make your stance beside the kimono-clad young lady.

"Surely, every person in this city has the right to amend themselves." you continue—with the usual undying conviction and hope in your irises.

Fukuzawa's expression resembles something of sharpened surprise-then wariness. Though it quickly melts away to subdued neutrality when he sees it was you—a mere kindhearted secretary—who spoke such a merciful sentence. Kyouka is accepted into the agency without anyone else necessary to speak up for her.

Naturally, defending a scared, lost, and misguided child—not innocent, but a child—was the most empathetic, compassionate thing someone can do. And yet,

"You're such a horrible person, (Name)."

Dazai Osamu's sweet smile plays a contrast against his cutting words. Several hours have passed since your little persuasion. Now you find yourselves sharing a table with the agency's ladies' man in the quiet cafe.

You shot a brief glance to the counter; it isn't hard to know Dazai had chosen an hour when even the cafe owner is momentarily absent.

"I am?" your gaze returns to his. And his brown eyes crinkle in astute amusement.

"You never really trusted Kyouka, didn't you?"

Your silence doesn't serve much of denial, so Dazai continued.

"That's smart. You speak in her favor because 'enemies' will work harder to gain 'our' trust. You don't trust her yet, but you put her in a spot where she will be more inclined to prove herself as a loyal ally."

"And maybe even more loyal than you, don't you say, (Name)?"

What's this? A question of loyalty? His implication is dangerous. But you fold your hands unabashed, resting your chin on them.

"Go on."

Dazai raises a brow. You return it with a sweet, closed-eye smile.

"You're just like a dream, Dazai," the syllables of his name pleasantly roll on your tongue. "Being understood this well—it's like a dream come true."

Your eyes lock his, undaunted. "Don't you think so too?"

Another silence, so thick and suffocating Dazai's now sharp gaze might cut through it.

"No?" a light titter escapes your throat. With shoulders not at all taut nor your gait on edge, you stare at afternoon's last rays from the quaint window of the cafe.

"That's too bad. To think I considered that suicide offer thing you mentioned when we first met. It seems I was mistaken about you."

Something about your tone isn't genuine. But what is not genuine is not always untrue.

The day Kyouka joined the agency marked the day two individuals somewhat similar, but starkly different acknowledged each other. Trust will be something more complicated to share, but that will be a problem solved by the march of time.

‎ ‎

Everyone notices how Dazai acts more amicably and clingy the day after. The attempts of flirting and flustering come back tenfold, in which you all but respond with an indulgent laugh or occasional witty words that won't get Kunikida too pressed. Perhaps Dazai has gotten more comfortable after knowing your true nature, or he rather keep you at an arm's length to keep a better eye on you. That will be a question only the man himself can answer.

‎

"You know, I've always been curious," you murmur to your flute, golden champagne swirling under the setting sun.

But the mutual understanding is present. God knows how untrusting and secretive Dazai can be with his plans. The moments you get to work together are represented by the knowing glances and silent nods during dire times when quick understandings are needed. Your relationship is delicate. There is now a degree of trust. But the two of you still tiptoe around each other, second-guessing what the other might have up their sleeves.

"About what?" Dazai, clad in a formal suit hums to his own glass, gaze still fixed on the same sunset you have in your eyes.

The three-way conflict with the Guild and the virus incident almost cost you Yokohama. One would think colleagues who worked through hell and back to save their city would have fully trusted each other by now. You got his back and he got yours; he saved your life and you saved his. But you aren't a fool. Dazai doesn't truly trust you. Dazai doesn't truly trust anyone.

"What are you looking for, Dazai? What are you looking for in this life?"

You look at his side profile. Dazai Osamu is an enigma, one you've spent so much time figuring out.

"You're looking for something. Something more than you expect. But someone must've told you the truth already; you'll find nothing. So why still persevere?"

This time, it's his silence that serves as neither a denial nor an answer.

The distant noise of the victory banquet calls; its joyous tone unfit for the heavy atmosphere you and Dazai shared. You let out a defeated exhale.

"Are you still looking for a beautiful woman to have suicide with?"

You'll let him open up when he's ready, you think. It isn't fair for both of you.

"Are you changing your mind?" He beams. "Could it be? Have you finally fallen in love with me?!"

S.S. Zelda sways gently on the still waters. Dazai's expression is coated with his usual playful facade. You hold his gaze as soon as it falls to yours. Just subtly, it slowly shifts to something more solemn.

"Who knows?" you close your eyes, lips dancing in a vixen smile.

It's tiring, but sure. You'll play this game just a little bit longer. After all, all the good things come to those who are patient.

i just realized these sound more like scenarios than hcs. welp.

♡ @ashthemadwriter

[fieldbears]

People are mad about RDJ casting for the incorrect reasons

Everyone strap in for a one-way ticket to Opiniontown, USA:

Seeing that RDJ's been cast as a variant Doctor Doom is so disappointing for reasons I've seen almost nobody discuss.

No, it's not "unimaginative". Alternate universes and other 'what-if's exist, in large part, to provide insight into the main universe - what if something had gone slightly differently? How much would change? (For a very successful example of this, DC's Elseworlds gave us Red Son, where Superman landed and was raised in the Soviet Union instead of middle America. I recommend giving it a read.)

And talking specifically about tumblr, where fanfiction is rampant, we are very familiar with AUs and how they can be a vehicle for character analysis. Put those blorbos in a different situation. Shake the jar. Examine. Take notes.

So, Tony as Doctor Doom. It's not that's it's "unimaginative", it's that it's going to be squandered.

Tony Stark is a rich, charismatic inventor who is too self-assured. He starts off extremely nationalistic and unafraid of violence. He is constantly teetering on the edge of Too Much.

Guys you will never guess what Dr. Doom is like!

Doctor Doom is also a brilliant, self-assured inventor! He also has a savior complex! He also tries to solve his problems with hordes of violent robots! If Tony was never kidnapped and thrown in a cave with a human embodiment of a conscience, guess who he might have grown up to resemble!

Dr. Doom is basically a Tony who never had a Pepper. Who never met, or lost, Yinsen. Like every Marvel character, there's lots of variations to his backstory, but he's essentially alone and sure of himself and ready to burn the world down for his beliefs and sleep like a baby every night after he does it. Seeing a world where Tony put on a different metal mask and started fighting for a world where he was in charge would be fucking interesting.

I would like to see the character analysis of Tony Stark, who was initially made more or less as a test of fan's loyalty, and see him be really held under the lens of "how much does this guy have the capacity to suck, and how much did he already suck". I would like to see the other characters have to struggle with having to fight an evil version of their dead friend. I would like to see a Marvel movie that really actually looks back at Ultron and then at the Doom Bots and goes "oh, yeah, same fucking hat".

I would like to see a Tony Stark who became Doctor Doom learn that there is a world where he became Iron Man. Would he be jealous of the man with a found family, or hate him for the naivite of their cause?

The problem is, I don't trust Marvel to do ANYTHING INTERESTING with this. Winter Soldier was 10 years ago and we're about to have a Captain America movie with a fucking Israeli superhero played straight. The scripts are bad, the pacing is bad, the final choices are bad. Whoever pitches the solid ideas like this AU idea loses control of the ball like 4 yards down the line, and it never concludes with any of the interesting ideas that must have gone in initially. They are going to burn 50% of the movie on pithy one-liners and Doom Bot fight scenes that reek of CGI crunch stress.

I am sad about RDJ being cast because it's a great idea that will be completely squandered. This could be so interesting and so fucked up. Everyone loves dunking on Tony, but nobody's interested the juxtaposition of his character with a notorious supervillain that's basically him with a green cape slapped on. Fucking come on. Be mad about this for the right reasons. They won't do it justice.

[ilvero-love]

Clothes Maketh the (Wo)Man (or the colour coding of the Iron Trio)

I saw a post recently wondering about the significance, if any, of the colours our Iron Trio wears💙🖤🧡. It prompted me to go looking. Like everything Complete Fiction seems to do in regard to this show, the choices are careful and deliberate.

Lockwood is black and white🖤🤍 He has a business to run and his suited appearance declares that he is prepared to do just that. He’s business like because he has to be. The success of this company rides on his back and the choices he makes. He is ambitious certainly, seen in his constant striving to take Lockwood and Co to the top and in his drive to put them into the public eye, often at the expense of other’s wishes. But it’s understandable. He has bills to pay and people (George and Lucy) that rely on him. Even after they successfully square away their debts, Lockwood remains conscious that there are still other bills to pay.

Lockwood presents an adult façade to the world. Even Lucy (in the book) is surprised to realise he is scarcely older than her upon first meeting him. But, whilst he may appear an adult, he’s still very much a teenager navigating his way through a world where children are dispensable and adults, despite their general uselessness, still call the shots. It’s Lockwood’s sneakers and pink socks that give him away and reveal the teenage boy behind the façade. This was such a clever choice on the part of Complete Fiction ���� They remind us that whilst Lockwood has been forced to grow up too quickly, at heart he is still a teen.

So, black and white. Very simple and clear cut. Except life isn’t like that, is it?Only Lucy has insight into how tenuous his grip on control can be, and we see this in the delightful stairwell scene 💖💖💖

😍Take a moment everyone- right, where were we?

Ah yes, Lucy and her blue persona (colour not mood). Lucy’s blue is a nice foil to the green of the ghostly world they inhabit. Both blue and green are heavily associated with nature. I don’t know what that means here, but it’s interesting to ponder.

Blue is traditionally seen as a colour of constancy, loyalty and reliability. She certainly provides this for Lockwood. But it’s also a strong colour, hence its traditional association with boys. A practical colour, heavily associated with working, it feeds into Lucy’s active strength.

(Some of these ideas came after reading the interesting article https://www.allure.com/story/beauty-and-the-beast-blue-dresses-in-female-centric-films . Not sure I agree with all of it but certainly food for thought).

Finally, George 🧡 Orange radiates warmth. George is the only from a stable family background, only leaving because of a burning desire to solve the Problem. 

Orange can represent physical comfort, which, when you add it to his cooking prowess completes the picture. Despite taking a while to warm to Lucy  (understandable when it’s just been him and Lockwood for a year) once he’s in, he’s all in 💯

Orange can represent physical comfort, which, when you add it to his cooking prowess completes the picture. He’s homely-he embodies home. As Lucy says to Lockwood, “Portland Row is my home-You and George”. And despite having taken a while to warm to Lucy (understandable when it’s just been him and Lockwood for a year) once he’s in, he’s all in 💯

It is interesting too that orange is also a complementary colour to blue, meaning that you can argue that George balances Lucy, providing stability for Lockwood.

So, there you have it, my thoughts, nonsensical or not, on the colour coding of our three heroes 🧡💙🖤

Maybe, just maybe, they were completely random colour choices based on what CF could source. But knowing Complete Fiction, I somehow think not 😉

⚔👻💕

[moongothic]

You remember how in Ms Goldenweek's cover story, we get to see how the former Baroque Works agents have all beated up the other cellmates they had (not just in the mens' cells but also womens')

The way Daz is sitting on top of one of the prisoners, as if he was sitting on a throne or something, it definitely makes it look like he at least participated in the fight that took place, right

It just makes me wonder, did Crocodile himself participate in the cell fight, or did Daz handle it all on his own?

Like even with the Seastone cuffs Crocodile's hook alone should give him the most unfair advantage in a prison fight imaginable, so you'd think he'd be more than capable of defending himself if he felt like it. But also, considdering he didn't feel like even escaping prison... was he even in the mood for a fight? Like I don't think Crocodile would just allow some random, weak-ass pirates to beat his ass without a fight, but also... I can't help but to wonder... (Look you tell me what kind of a mental state Crocodile was in after his 4 year long plan to take over a country was foiled by a kid in flip flops)

Is it possible Daz took out all those other prisoners by himself (without Crocodile nor Mr 4 assisting him), either to make sure his boss didn't have to waste his strenght on them, or... did he maybe deal with the other prisoners to... protect Crocodile? Like the former would be straight forward manly man anime loyalty, nothing worth making a deepdive for, this is One Piece we get the trope. But isn't the latter option also plausible? 'Cause. Like. Daz was loyal enough to Crocodile to willingly go to Impel Fucking Down with his former boss whom he had only known for like a day or two at this point (I mean IDK how long it took for the BW members to get shipped to this Marine Base from Alabasta but you know what I mean). If some random criminals wanted to pick a fight with Crocodile in prison and he just seemed like he didn't feel like dealing with it, if Daz's was down to go to Impel Down with Croc, then would he not be willing to defend the man too??

Regardless, it just raises the question of... why? Why did Daz choose stay with Crocodile, despite Baroque Works failing so hard? Why did he choose to become loyal to such a cruel, horrible man?

Sad thing is, because we don't really know much about Daz, there isn't actually that much to go off-of to properly speculate here. But we do know Daz once dreamt of becoming a superhero! The irony of course being that not only he became a terrifying murder man, but also that he seems to lack that "superhero quality" of being... easily approachable, friendly, warm? Like he is a man of steel, but he's not The Man of Steel, you get me? But Daz's dream does tell us something interesting though; that deep inside, even if he doesn't show it at all, he might like the idea of being a hero? Like the concept of being a hero and saving people may have appealed to him, right? Because that's what being a hero is about, the heroic ideals of upholding peace and justice (and looking cool while doing it)

And arguably that idea still appeals to Daz. Even if he's frowning, deep inside he was enjoying the superhero costume Ms Goldenweek created, even if he can't admit it.

But in One Piece, the idea of being a "hero of justice" has quite different connotations than in our world. After all, the Marines are meant to embody that very idea, just in a far less cool, romantic way. We know the World Government is extremely corrupt, we know of the atrocities the Marines have and are willing to commit in the name of their so-called "justice".

So while it's entirely plausible Daz might've fallen "out of love" with his dream simply because his life just... lead him down a different path, and he didn't seem to have the right personality for it anyways... Knowing the WG, isn't it also possible Daz could have become kind of... jaded, knowing the "real life heroes" of his world aren't that cool, and don't actually stand for the ideals he may have looked up to?

And then he finds himself working for a man who seemingly wants to overthrow that very same corrupt Government?

[etinceelle]

𝚁𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙶𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚊𝚞𝚟𝚎'𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜

I don't think I ever described Gris and Fauve's personalities here, so I thought I could talk about it for a bit ! I'll start with Gris below :]

----------

𝙶𝚁𝙸𝚂

Gris' a very friendly and warm person, and she genuinely loves to be around people and to help. She's generous and ready to do as much as she can to be there for others. But she tends to push herself a lot because she feel like she can only matter to people by being useful. As she doesn't have any Spark and special magic like others, and as she's seen as a bad luck charm and rejected, she goes out of her way to do what she can but she's often pushed on the side or on tiny tasks because she can't do as much as others and is vulnerable.

This complex follows her in her whole life so she tends to "mask" that problem by being there, even if she truly only wants to be accepted as she is, and to understand why she's the only one without that Spark. This created a sensitive side inside of her, she wants to understand. She loves to explore but she tends to take risks to "prove" herself. She wants to be as capable as others. People consider her weak and she tends to believe it too. What she doesn't know is that she's VERY far from being "weak" 👁️

Gris' tribe (who lives on the island of Chah) believe that Sparks originate from stars, so they study astronomy a lot. Sagel is Chah's leader and Gris' mentor, and he's an astrophycisist. She borrows his books and also goes a lot to the library to study.

Gris takes the train often to go see her best and closest friend Sahel who lives on another island of the North. Sahel works at a forge and they love to hang out together and go drink and talk.

Train is the main transportation in the North islands. Also Gris works as a waitress at a restaurant/café who accepted her in Chah, but she doesn't really fit in this job either as she's more a discreet person. She has a lot of personality but likes to stay in her little corner most of the time. But as long as she can live peacefully and be useful to her tribe that's what matters the most to her.

She also can be pretty grumpy and impulsive. With her complex she also developed a deep anger for being different, and she tends to struggle in stressful situations. Gris loves to collect plants and tiny trinkets wherever she goes, she travels a lot and you can find her explore nearby islands alone even if that means she can be in danger and vulnerable to the Corruption.

She feels weak but is actually pretty fierce and strong when she face other people or creatures, for what she thinks is right. She can be stubborn but she'll always be joyful and curious.

----------

𝙵𝙰𝚄𝚅𝙴

Fauve is the embodiment of what I like to call a "gentle giant", she's REALLY strong but she's mostly KIND. Fauve is the incarnation of kindness and loyalty and will always do what she thinks is right for others and herself.

She can be pretty impressive or scary at first because she looks and feels powerful, especially since she's an Oruh and a powerful one. But despite all of this strength she hates to hurt people or other creatures, and if she does it unvoluntarily she'll cry and feel so guilty. She's the kind of person to be able to punch, destroy, bite, roar and scratch whatever or whoever is putting her tribe and herself in danger, but only because she HAS to. She'd rather not have to fight at all, or only in the friendly tournaments of her Oruh tribe.

Fauve has a lot of energy, she can be pretty stubborn too but also very clumsy. She's strong and fierce while fighting because she's very good at it, but outside of that she's like a complete different, innocent and even a bit naive creature.

Fauve is used to live in harsh conditions due to her Oruh life, traditions and environment. She fights a lot and isn't scared at all, she's actually really brave. She can defends herself but what matters to her is to protect others so she tends to take hits for them. Fauve's daily life is very busy, between her tribe and her role in it, her BIG family (both of her parents died when she was young, so she was raised by several members of her tribe and is used to have friends who are like her family).

Fauve's best friend with another girl named Kanaah, an Oruh as well, and they're really known together in the tribe as the trouble makers (mostly because of Kanaah's fault oops). Fauve always feels scared and guilty but also always ends up following Kanaah's chaotic plans.

Kanaah's not a bad person but they both enjoy to do some naughtiness. xD Fauve's life always has been pretty simple and she enjoys the most basic things, such as a meal, time with friends, sleeping outside in the grass...

She's not complicated and that can sometime be hard for someone who's not to it to follow her. She's rarely cold due to her Spark (thermal amp). She has no problem in warm environments, but she struggles more with very cold temperatures.

----------

𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙳𝚈𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙲

As people as well aware now, Gris and Fauve end up together at some point >:] I'm not gonna describe the whole "how did they met" stuff because I'm still building stuff. But I still can talk about how they interact together

Without much surprise, Fauve tends to protect Gris a lot, while knowing how to leave her space and manage to do things alone. She's very worried about her being vulnerable so that's something they can struggle with at the beginning of their bond, but they learn how to trust each other on that aspect. Because even if Gris doesn't have a Spark, she can fight just like anyone else (because everyone learn to fight in this world, otherwise you can't survive). Fauve learns to trust Gris with that and to not overwhelm her or make her feel like she's weak.

Gris is very impressed and even scared of Fauve at first, not only because of her Oruh powers and form but because she has very strong vibes and look. But as they learn to know each other she realizes she's really not scary at all, and that's pretty much the opposite.

As they balance with their personalities and their problems, Fauve is here to support Gris in moments of weakness, and Gris is also here to support Fauve on her own struggles (which I did not describe because plot building lol) What is certain is that between them there's a biiiiig slowburn and they love each other a lot yey ♥

----------

𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

Because why not, I have ideas for that too-

To be short : most of the time, Fauve top/Gris bottom LMAO

But that's more than that obviously, Fauve gives a lot but in these moments they just enjoy to share with each other a lot. I imagine them as both demisexual, which means they never felt attracted sexually to anyone they didn't love. So these moments are really special and exclusive to them.

(Also, top/bottom is a very quick description but they can do both depending of the moment aha)

Fauve tends to have a bigger libido than Gris but they pretty much have a good balance on that aspect. They also enjoy sensual and intimate moments without having it to go that far.

Taking naps together, drinking/eating, cuddling, watching movies, travelling, they really love all of that but, the s3xual part is something they enjoy a lot in a very irregular pace and depending on the mood. It can be every 6 months, or later every week, it really depends

Anyway I ended up RAMBLING about them and my story so hard but I enjoyed it a lot- Happy of its development and characters in any case ♥

[thebunnednun]

LOYALTY [Chapter 5]

Katsuki Bakugou x Sugar Baby! Reader

Summary:

Your ex tries to kill you and now your boss is throwing his hat in the ring too. Good thing Katsuki is here.

Songs: Pour it up by Rihanna Don't tell em by Jeremih feat. YG

As always this is a mature story so minors DO NOT INTERACT!!

TW: Abusive relationships and violence.

---------------Chapter 5: Same Assholes, New Beginnings--------------

Michael was actually the one who turned the stream off as you sat up again, yawning. That was close. You couldn't sleep in this room, even if it was cute. She helped you up and got you situated in your own room, the one that felt safer, even if it wasn't the most comfortable. The package from him was still in the trash, and you weren't sure if there was a police station open this late.

"That was close," Michael said, her tone a mix of concern and exhaustion. "You sure you want me to sleep in the bed with you?"

You nodded, the fear still clutching at your chest. "Yeah, that freaked me out more than I want to admit."

Michael shuddered as she put her bonnet on, settling into the bed beside you. "I told you we should've gone to the police earlier. What if that thing has a tracking device? I know some guys at the club that would love to do us a favor."

You shook your head quickly, not wanting anyone else to get involved. "No, no, no, please. I don’t want anyone else dragged into this."

She sighed, bouncing into the bed to get comfortable. "You need more color in here. It looks like a minimalist beige mom spray-painted everything neutral."

You huffed some air before finally taking off that damn itchy wig. You shook out your real hair before grabbing the matching bonnet Michael had gotten you, sliding it on with a sense of relief. "Well, you try living with a creep who throws your stuff out and controls everything you wear and own. I should really burn those clothes."

Sliding under the sheets, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you. Michael joined you, leaving the night light on, knowing how much you hated the dark now. Ironically, that was part of his quirk—a dude with psycho strength who could shoot blasts of light from his hands. A flashy quirk, indeed. But when you acted up, he would shroud the entire place in darkness that felt so heavy you couldn’t do anything except curl up and cry. His apartment was so blindingly white that it made you sick constantly.

Yours, though... was a little different. Thanks to quirk marriages, you had two quirks. Much like the pro hero Shoto, you could wield both water and fire. If you were hydrated enough, you could even conjure ice. To think, you shared almost the same quirk as the #3 hero of Japan. 

It was so fucked up. 

You actually had an unused hero license sitting in your drawer. No, literally. That’s how the fucker found you—a small, emotionally vulnerable girl with a shitty home life in a student exchange program. You gave up your career before it even began because of "love," which was really just his small dick ego ruling you again. 

But the truth was, you didn’t think you had the stomach for it anyway. The injuries pros got made you sick, and the idea of your comrades—your friends—dying? God, you couldn’t do it. That’s how you ended up as a marketing manager, finding all the good shots of heroes to promote them to the next top whatever. Especially your main project: Kyoya, aka " Unyielding," hero known for his indomitable spirit and sportsmanship, who embodied the ideals of chivalry and justice. 

Fucking poser. 

Promoting someone like him felt like a way to stay connected to the hero world, even if you couldn’t be a part of it the way you once dreamed. 

What was all of that for, anyway? Who would want a Pro Hero who couldn’t even fight off her own boyfriend—her fiancé at that? Who stayed in a shitty relationship longer than she wanted to, just so she wouldn’t have to be alone or move back home to get her ass handed to her by her parents. Parents that kicked her out three months before graduation, when she needed them the most. It was a miracle you didn’t have any siblings to go back for; at least they didn’t have to suffer through the same hell.

A Pro Hero who has to strip and entertain weirdos on the internet for money because that same ex was blocking all her job opportunities. The same ex who, according to office gossip, had already moved his new girl into the old apartment and was letting her do whatever she wanted to erase every trace of you. 

The bed you slept in, the photos you hung up, the little decorations you picked out with so much care—gone. Replaced by her, some woman you never met, who probably didn’t even know your name. And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? Being erased like you never existed.

Yeah, some hero to look up to.

You lay there, the weight of it all pressing down on you like a boulder, making it hard to breathe. The room felt suffocating despite its size, the walls closing in as the thoughts spiraled deeper. The candle’s gentle flicker was the only source of warmth in the cold void you felt yourself slipping into. The soft glow that once felt comforting now mocked you, reminding you of what you could never truly be—a light in the dark. Instead, you were just another shadow, hiding behind a screen, pretending to be something you weren’t.

Michael shifted beside you, her presence a small comfort in the darkness. But even she couldn’t reach that part of you buried so deep, the part that still ached for something more, something you were beginning to doubt you’d ever have.

It was all just so fucking pointless.

You and Michael settled into the bed, the weight of the day finally lifting as you both let out matching sighs of exhaustion. She rolled onto her side to face you, her dark eyes soft and full of understanding.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, a tender smile playing on her lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you murmured back, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently. The warmth of her touch grounded you, even as the memories of the past threatened to pull you under.

You both said your little prayers, whispering words of gratitude for the small blessings you still held on to—each other, a roof over your heads, the strength to keep moving forward. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get you through the night.

As you lay in the dark, the familiar feeling of dread crept in, but you pushed it away, focusing on the steady rhythm of Michael’s breathing beside you. Eventually, sleep took you, but it wasn’t peaceful.

You dreamed of suffocating darkness, of hands that grabbed at you and a voice that whispered lies in your ear. You were trapped, no matter how much you struggled, unable to escape the cold grip that held you down. Then, suddenly, you woke with a start, your heart racing and your breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

It was 6 a.m., the room still cloaked in the early morning shadows. Michael was holding you, her arms wrapped protectively around you as if she had sensed your distress even in sleep. You took a shaky breath and snuggled back into her embrace, feeling her warmth seep into you. She didn’t say anything, and neither did you. There was no need for words; the silent comfort of her love was more than enough.

Her alarm went off shortly after, breaking the silence. Michael groaned softly, reluctantly pulling away from you to shut it off. She stretched, her muscles flexing as she prepared for her morning workout routine.

“You gonna be okay?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” you nodded, giving her a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours as if looking for any sign of doubt, before finally getting up. “I’m heading to the gym. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both got ready in the quiet morning hours, the sounds of the city slowly waking up around you. The ritual was familiar, almost comforting in its routine. You dressed in your office clothes, something professional but with a touch of lipgloss—a little armor to help you face the day. Michael was ready in no time, dressed in her gym gear, hair tied back, and eyes focused. She was always so strong, so put together, and it made you feel a little stronger too.

The train ride was uneventful, the two of you sharing a comfortable silence as you stood side by side. The city rushed past in a blur, but you barely noticed, lost in your thoughts. When your stop came, Michael leaned over and kissed you on the cheek, a quick, reassuring peck that made you smile despite the nervous flutter in your stomach.

“Good luck,” she said, her voice warm.

“Thanks.” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you stepped off the train. The office loomed ahead, and you squared your shoulders, determined to get through the day.

Today, you had a meeting with your boss, presenting a new marketing plan for Koi Fish. It was just another task, another hurdle to overcome, but it felt like a mountain. You could do this. You had to do this. With a final glance at the receding train, you turned and walked into the office, ready to face whatever the day would throw at you.

You step into the office, the sterile scent of coffee and paper filling the air as you walk down the hallway. The click of your heels on the tiled floor echoes with each step, but it’s the sudden hush that catches your attention. Eyes turn toward you—some wide with surprise, others narrowed in curiosity or judgment. It’s as if they didn’t expect you to show up today, or maybe any day.

You offer a polite nod to the receptionist, who quickly looks away, pretending to be busy with her screen. The quiet whispers and sideways glances follow you as you pass by your coworkers, their conversations halting mid-sentence. It’s a familiar feeling, but it doesn’t sting any less. You straighten your posture, your heart thudding a little harder in your chest, and keep your eyes forward.

At your desk, you set down your bag and pull out the notes for your presentation. The marketing plan for  ‘Koi-fish’ sits at the top of the stack, the bright, serene colors a stark contrast to the tense energy around you. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task ahead. But the weight of the stares and the unspoken questions hang over you like a cloud.

A colleague, who usually avoids eye contact, suddenly looks at you with a mixture of pity and confusion. "I didn’t think you’d actually be here today," he says, his voice low as if trying not to be overheard.

You offer a small, strained smile. "Why wouldn’t I be? Got a job to do, right?"

He nods slowly, but his gaze lingers a moment too long before he turns away. You can feel the judgment in the air, the silent questioning of how someone like you, with your history, could still manage to show up, put on a brave face, and keep going. 

The pressure in your chest tightens, but you push it aside. Today isn’t about them or what they think. It’s about getting through this presentation and proving to yourself that you can still do this. 

You glance at the clock on your computer screen. Just a little while longer until the meeting. You can handle this, just like you’ve handled everything else. One step at a time.

You scan your badge and make your way to the top floor, the familiar hum of the elevator a small comfort as you brace yourself for the day. The doors slide open, and you're immediately greeted by the sight of your mentees, their faces lighting up as they spot you.

"You're here!" one of them exclaims, rushing over to hug you.

You laugh, returning the embrace. "Of course I am. Now, let's get to work, soldiers."

They fall in line with exaggerated seriousness, but the warmth in their eyes is unmistakable. You take a moment to savor the connection before heading to the conference room.

Inside, you find your boss, Mr. Yakimoto, Kyoya's manager, and his assistant, Mia. She looks relieved to see you, though her frazzled expression suggests a stressful morning. The last figure in the room is a girl with a sharp, confident presence—another hero, no doubt. Her posture is rigid, her eyes tracking your every move.

"Good morning," Mr. Yakimoto says, gesturing to an empty seat. "Please, take a seat, and we'll get started."

You nod, moving to the chair, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on you as you settle in.

The discussion quickly turned to recent popularity polls and media outlets. Mr. Yakimoto highlighted the positive trends, noting how Kyoya's recent public appearances had garnered significant attention. Kyoya's manager chimed in, mentioning the upcoming announcement from the Hero Commission about the newest top heroes. The excitement in the room was palpable as they discussed the magazine interviews being set up and how the makeup crew was already booked for the shoot.

You let your mentees take the reins, presenting the finer details of the new marketing strategy you'd been working on for Kyoya. They were confident, well-prepared, and delivered their points with a professionalism that made you proud. But as they spoke, you couldn't help but notice Kyoya's gaze. He was staring at you— intently —to the point where it felt like he was trying to drill holes into your skull with his eyes.

At first, you tried to ignore it, focusing instead on your team’s presentation. But his unwavering attention began to make you uncomfortable. You saw him nudge his manager, but the gesture went unnoticed, leaving him to continue his silent, intense observation.

It wasn’t long before others started to pick up on it. Mia glanced at you with concern, and even Mr. Yakimoto paused mid-discussion, his eyes flicking between you and Kyoya as if trying to decipher what was going on. The tension in the room thickened, and your resolve to ignore him faltered for just a moment as you locked eyes with him.

What was he trying to convey? And why did it feel like everyone else was just as confused as you were?

The tension in the room was palpable, growing thicker with each passing second of Kyoya’s unyielding stare. You could sense the confusion spreading among your team and the others present, and it wasn’t long before someone finally broke the silence.

"Um, why is—" a voice chimed in, cutting through the room’s awkward energy. It was her —the girl he left you for. Her name was Sayuri Minami, also known by her hero name, Gleaming Siren . She had an aura that commanded attention, much like Minerva Orland from Fairy Tail . Sayuri was tall and slender, her curves accentuated by her hero costume, which hugged her figure in all the right places. Her long, wavy hair was a striking shade of midnight blue, cascading down her back, and her eyes were a bright, almost unnatural shade of gold. Her presence was as alluring as it was intimidating, her beauty undeniable but her personality... not so much.

She interrupted one of your mentees mid-sentence, her voice carrying a slight edge of disdain. You quickly jumped in, your protective instincts kicking in to shield your mentee from her venom.

"Excuse me, but I believe they were speaking," you said, keeping your tone firm yet professional. The room fell silent as Sayuri’s golden eyes narrowed at you, her lips curling into a faint smirk.

"Oh, I’m sorry," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just thought maybe we should focus on what’s actually important here."

Her comment was clearly aimed at belittling your mentee’s contribution, but you refused to rise to the bait. Instead, you maintained your composure, ignoring the slight. But Sayuri wasn’t finished. She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she continued to make little comments, her eyes flicking toward you with a calculated glint.

Finally, after a particularly pointed remark, you’d had enough. You turned to her, your expression calm but your eyes sharp. "Sayuri," you began, your voice cutting through the air with precision, "what exactly do you mean by that?"

The room went dead silent. Sayuri blinked, clearly caught off guard by your direct approach. For a moment, she seemed to struggle to find her words, her confidence wavering as all eyes turned to her. She let out a small cough, her poised demeanor slipping.

"I—uh, I just meant..." She faltered, her golden eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I think I need some water."

Without waiting for a response, Sayuri hastily excused herself, practically fleeing from the conference room. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving a tense silence in her wake.

You took a breath, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, and returned your attention to the presentation. Your mentees looked at you with a mixture of relief and admiration, clearly grateful for how you had handled the situation. Kyoya, on the other hand, was still staring at you, his gaze unreadable but intense.

It took all your self-control to ignore the feeling of vindication settling in your chest. The meeting wasn’t over yet, and there was still work to be done.

The meeting wrapped up with a final round of discussions, everyone contributing their last thoughts on the upcoming hero rankings, magazine interviews, and promotional strategies. You made sure to direct the conversation back to your mentees, giving them the space to shine and showcase their hard work. As the room began to clear, you offered each of them words of encouragement.

"You all did great today," you said warmly, pulling them into a small huddle. "Your presentations were clear, your points were solid, and you handled yourselves with professionalism. Just remember to keep refining those pitches and be ready for any follow-ups. I’m proud of you all."

Your mentees beamed at the praise, their earlier nervousness melting away. You gave them specific feedback, pointing out where they excelled and where they could improve. They nodded, soaking in every word, clearly eager to keep learning and growing.

As they dispersed, gathering their things and chatting excitedly amongst themselves, you were about to make your exit when Mr. Yakimoto’s voice called out to you.

“Ms, a word before you go.”

You turned back, already dreading what was to come. Your instincts told you that this wasn’t going to be good. With a steadying breath, you walked back into the conference room where Mr. Yakimoto waited, his expression grim. Kyoya’s manager, Ms. Hayashi, remained seated as well, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Please, sit,” Mr. Yakimoto said, motioning to a chair across from them.

You complied, sitting down with your back straight, your hands clasped in your lap. Your eyes flicked between the two of them, sensing the tension.

“We’ve been reviewing recent events, particularly the footage from that... incident at the charity event,” Mr. Yakimoto began, choosing his words carefully. “As you know, the security tapes and video footage of that evening have gone missing. Given the importance of that event and the subsequent fallout, this is a serious issue.”

You kept your expression neutral, even as your heart began to pound. This wasn’t just a meeting; this was an ambush.

“Ms. Hayashi,” he continued, nodding toward Kyoya’s manager, “has requested that you be removed from Kyoya’s team. However, Kyoya has been... unusually adamant about keeping you on board. This puts us in a difficult position.”

You remained silent, letting him finish.

“Because of these complications, and due to recent budget cuts,” Mr. Yakimoto said, his tone now more clipped, “we have no choice but to place you on a temporary suspension, effective immediately. During this suspension, you will not receive pay. Furthermore, if you are found to have had any involvement in the disappearance of those tapes, you will be terminated, and there could be legal repercussions.”

He gave you a look that was meant to be a warning, but it only fueled the fire in your chest. “Consider this a friendly warning,” he added, as if that softened the blow.

You stared at him, your face unreadable. The anger simmered beneath the surface, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” you said calmly, standing up. The implication was clear—you were going to find a lawyer.

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the room, your strides purposeful. You kept your head high, refusing to let them see how rattled you were. As you approached the elevator, you pressed the button, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of them good.

The doors slid open, and you stepped inside, leaning against the cool metal wall as you let out a breath. Just as the doors were about to close, a hand shot out, stopping them. The doors reopened, and Kyoya stepped in, his expression unreadable.

“Hold up,” he said, his voice low.

Your heart rate spiked, and you instinctively prepared to defend yourself. It had been a long time since you used your quirk, but you were ready to blast his face with fire if it came to that. You weren’t about to let him beat you to death in an elevator.

He stood close, too close, and his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “Did you get my package?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

You shrugged, trying to gray rock your way out of this situation. “I get a lot of packages.”

His frustration grew with each attempt at conversation. He tried to needle you with small talk, but you kept your responses curt and uninterested. Finally, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a nasty whisper in your ear.

“You know, I’ve missed you. Missed the way you used to—”

You shoved him back, your hands sparking with the threat of fire. He took it in stride, a twisted smile curling his lips. “I always loved and hated this part of you.”

You wanted to spit on him but held back. You knew that if you assaulted him right now he would have you arrested so fast that it would make your head spin. The elevator doors finally opened, and you shoved him out with all your strength. As the doors close, your work phone dings. It’s a message from an unknown number: 

“You still got a sweet ass.”  

You screenshot it, making a mental note to report it to HR later. Now, you ran from the building, wishing you had your car, "Lemon," to take you home. Michael would be at her office job until five and then sleep until ten before getting ready for the club. You would be going too tonight and then doing your live stream afterward. You needed all the money you could get if you were being suspended or worse—fired.

Would it even be that bad at this point?

Just like two weeks ago, you ran all the way home, adrenaline pushing you as you bounded up the stairs two by two, unable to wait for the elevator. You burst through your apartment door and found the package in the trash. You'll clean the mess later; now you  change into your sneakers and before locking the door tight and racing to the nearest police station.

You sprint through the streets, your heart pounding in your chest, not from fear but from sheer adrenaline. The nearest police station is a 20-minute walk, but you cut that time in half, your legs pumping as though powered by some secret third quirk that only activates when your heart’s been shattered by an asshole. Whatever it is, you let it fuel you, pushing your feet faster until you reach the station.

You pause outside the doors, trying to catch your breath, fixing your flyaways and composing yourself. As you enter, a blast of cold air hits you, the AC a stark contrast to the heat of your run. You make your way to the receptionist's desk, ringing the little bell. A moment later, an officer with a dog head—likely a hybrid quirk—appears, his expression friendly yet professional.

"How may I help you, ma'am?" he asks, his voice calm and reassuring.

You offer a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady. "Hello, I hope I'm not interrupting, but I was wondering if I might have some assistance. You see, I recently broke up with my ex-fiancé, and he changed the locks on our old apartment while I was at work. Our previous landlord delivered this package to me, and... I’m not sure what's inside. Given our bad history, I thought it would be safer to open it here."

Just as the officer opens his mouth to respond, the doors burst open behind you. The room fills with a sudden rush of energy and noise as Pro Heroes Ground Zero, Red Riot, Deku, and Shoto burst in, dragging several apprehended villains behind them. The villains are a mess of bruises, cuffs, and defiance, clearly the result of a failed attempt at robbing a jewelry store in Tokyo.

Ground Zero—Bakugou—looks as fierce as ever, his usual scowl deepening when he catches sight of the villains. Red Riot stands beside him, his unbreakable form looking no worse for wear. Deku is talking rapidly to Shoto, who remains stoic, though there’s a hint of frost still clinging to his right side. The sight of them is both awe-inspiring and intimidating.

The officer's attention shifts momentarily to the heroes, but he quickly refocuses on you. "That sounds like a wise decision, ma'am. Let's take a look at that package in a safe area. Please follow me."

You nod, trying to ignore the sudden influx of hero energy in the room as the officer leads you to a more secure part of the station. As you walk past the heroes, you can’t help but glance over. Bakugou’s sharp eyes flicker in your direction for the briefest moment before he turns his attention back to the villains, barking orders at one of the officers.

The package feels heavier in your hands as you follow the officer, the anxiety of what might be inside creeping back. The sight of the heroes reminds you of how far you’ve come, and yet how close you still are to the past you’re trying so hard to escape.

As you follow the officer, the package in your hands starts to feel unnaturally warm. At first, you think it’s just the lingering heat from your sprint, but then it begins to burn, the temperature rising quickly. Panic flares in your chest, and you know you have to act fast.

Without thinking, you drop the package onto the floor. You scream, your voice cutting through the noise of the bustling police station.

"ICE IT!"

Shoto, who was mid-conversation with Deku, snaps his head toward you, his mismatched eyes narrowing in confusion. For a split second, he hesitates, unsure of the situation. But then he sees the package on the ground, its surface now glowing a dangerous red.

In an instant, his left side surges with cold, and a blast of ice shoots from his hand, engulfing the package in a thick layer of frost. The officer, realizing what’s happening, tries to rush around the protective glass, his eyes wide with alarm.

You don’t wait to see what happens next. You instinctively move backward, away from the package, when suddenly, you feel two large, hot hands wrap around your waist. They’re strong, pulling you backward with surprising speed and force. Your feet leave the ground as you’re yanked away from the imminent danger.

Just as you’re pulled clear, the package explodes with a deafening bang. The sound reverberates through the station, and shards of ice and debris scatter across the floor where the package once lay. The protective glass shakes from the force of the explosion, but thankfully, Shoto's ice had contained most of it, preventing any serious damage. The overhead sprinklers activate causing a downpour of water on you and the others present. 

But that’s not what’s on your mind right now. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize you’ve been pulled into someone’s embrace. You glance up and meet the fierce, determined gaze of Ground Zero. His hands are still wrapped around your waist, his body shielding you from the blast. His expression is a mix of frustration and relief as he looks down at you.

"You okay?" he grunts, his voice rough but not unkind.

You nod, still shaken but unharmed. "Y-Yeah, thanks..."

Before you can say more, Bakugou releases you, turning his attention back to the aftermath of the explosion. Shoto approaches the now ruined package, his eyes scanning the remnants, his breath still coming out in cold puffs. The other heroes and officers quickly move to secure the area, checking for any further dangers.

The officer who had been helping you earlier finally reaches your side, his face pale with concern. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "I’m fine, thanks to him," you say, glancing at Bakugou, who is now shouting orders to the pro's.

He catches your gaze for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if to say, "Be more careful next time." Then he turns away, already moving on to the next crisis.

You can’t help but feel a mix of gratitude and embarrassment as you process what just happened. The memory of Bakugou’s hands around your waist lingers, along with the realization that your ex’s threat had just escalated to a whole new level.

The noise in the lobby only grows as more officers rush in, their uniforms a blur of navy blue as they move to take the villains into custody. Shoto and Deku follow the officers, their expressions grim as they keep a watchful eye on the apprehended criminals. The scene is chaotic, but everyone moves with practiced efficiency, ensuring that the situation remains under control.

Amidst the controlled chaos, Red Riot rushes over to you, his usual bright smile replaced with a look of deep concern. His red hair is slightly tousled from the recent scuffle, and his sharp, crimson eyes scan you from head to toe, checking for any signs of injury.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle despite the intensity of the situation. He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his grip firm but careful, as if he’s afraid of hurting you.

You nod, still a bit shaken but grateful for his concern. "I’m fine, just a little rattled. Thanks to Ground Zero and Shoto, nothing worse happened."

Kirishima’s worried expression softens into a small, relieved smile. "Good, that’s good. You were really brave back there."

Before you can respond, the officer with the dog head—his name tag reads "Sergeant Inu"—steps forward, his demeanor calm but authoritative. "Ma'am, if you could follow me to the back, we need to collect a statement from you about what just happened."

You glance back at the scene in the lobby, now being secured by the heroes and officers, before nodding. "Of course," you reply, ready to cooperate. The adrenaline is still pumping through your veins, but you know that giving a clear and accurate statement is crucial.

Sergeant Inu gestures for you to follow him, and you fall in step behind him as he leads you through a side door into a quieter, more private area of the station. As you walk, you can feel Kirishima’s eyes on you, his protective instincts still on high alert.

"Don’t worry," he says, giving you a thumbs-up as you turn to look at him. "You’re in good hands here."

You manage a small smile in return, appreciating his attempt to lift your spirits.

Sergeant Inu leads you to a small, dimly lit room with a table and a few chairs. It’s quieter here, the noise from the lobby now a distant hum. He motions for you to take a seat, and you do so, trying to steady your breathing.

Once you’re settled, Sergeant Inu sits across from you, pulling out a notepad and pen. His eyes are kind but serious as he looks at you. "Alright, ma'am, let’s start from the beginning. Can you tell me everything that led up to the moment you came into the station?"

You take a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. "Yes, I can," you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. And so, you begin to recount the events of the day, from the unsettling package to the terrifying moments just before the explosion.

As you speak, the gravity of the situation starts to settle in. Your ex-fiancé had escalated his harassment to a dangerous level, and now it was clear that you couldn’t handle this alone. You would need the police, legal help, and possibly even the protection of heroes to navigate what was to come.

'Fuck me.'

You follow another officer through another series of winding hallways, finally arriving at a smaller, more private room. The walls are bare except for a few motivational posters, and a single table with two chairs sits in the center. The room feels like a stark contrast to the chaos of the lobby, with its quiet and clinical ambiance. A detective gestures for you to sit down, and you take a seat, your hands trembling slightly.

As you settle into the chair, the officer begins to prepare for the questioning. He sits across from you, his expression a mix of professionalism and concern. “We need to get a full account of what happened today, ma’am. If you could start from the beginning…”

You nod, trying to steady your nerves. “I received a package from my old landlord. My ex-fiancé had the locks changed on our apartment, so I didn’t have access to it. The package was delivered to my new apartment, and I brought it here because I was concerned about its contents.”

The detective takes notes, nodding as you speak. “And why did you think it was necessary to bring it here?”

“I was worried about what might be inside,” you explain. “Given my history with my ex, I didn’t want to take any chances. He has a… history of controlling and abusive behavior.”

As you recount the events, Bakugou and Kirishima watch from behind the glass. Kirishima’s brow is furrowed in concern, while Bakugou’s gaze is locked onto you, his eyes narrowed in thought. He had requested you be brought to the back because something about this didn't sit right in his gut.

Meanwhile, Todoroki and Izuku enter the room, their expressions serious as they join the others.

“What happened?” Izuku asks, his concern evident.

“Apparently, the package was sent by her ex,” Kirishima explains to Todoroki and Izuku, who have just joined them. “She doesn't want to give his name, but she’s had a pretty rough time with him. He’s got a record of abuse.”

Todoroki raises an eyebrow, glancing back at you through the glass. “Is that why you’re so focused on her, Bakugou?”

Bakugou doesn’t respond, his eyes still fixed on you. “Just… keep watching,” he mutters.

Inside the room, the officer continues his questioning. “Do you have any idea what was in the package? Why did it get so hot?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “But when I noticed it getting warmer, I asked for help. I didn’t want to risk it hurting someone or something.”

As you speak, the door to the room opens, and Red Riot—Kirishima—enters, looking more relaxed now that the immediate danger has passed. He gives you a reassuring smile. “Hey, just checking in. Are you sure you’re alright?” He slides you a cup of water and you take it gratefully. 

You nod, offering him a small smile in return. “I’m okay. Thanks for your help earlier.”

Red Riot glances at the officer, then back at you. “I’m glad you’re safe. If you need anything, just let me know.”

The detective continues with his questions, but your mind keeps drifting back to the earlier events. You can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu, particularly when Ground zero was pulling you back. You try to ignore it, focusing on answering the officer’s questions as clearly as you can.

Meanwhile, Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, and Izuku watch from behind the glass. Bakugou’s eyes are fixed on you, an intense look of recognition in his gaze. Kirishima continues explaining to Todoroki and Izuku, who are both listening intently.

There’s something about you that’s nagging at him, something that feels familiar. He watches as you sit down, your hands nervously fiddling with the hem of your skirt. You’re wearing a mini pencil skirt that hugs your curves, paired with a peachy button-down shirt. The sweater you had on earlier is gone, likely due to the water from the ice blast, and your hair is slightly damp, clinging to your face in soft tendrils. Even though you’ve clearly been through a lot, there’s an undeniable poise to you, an elegance that doesn’t waver even under pressure.

But it’s your eyes that keep pulling him in. There’s something about them—a mix of warmth and vulnerability—that stirs a memory deep within him. He’s sure he’s seen them before, met you somewhere before. The feeling gnaws at him, refusing to be ignored.

Izuku notices Bakugou’s intense focus and raises an eyebrow. “Kacchan, you okay?”

“I’m fine, nerd.” 

Your voice remains steady as you speak, but there’s an underlying tension, a fear that you’re trying hard to keep in check. You’re jiggling your leg under the table- probably from nerves. 

Wait.

Fuck he really needed to start sleeping again. He could have sworn he’s seen those legs before. Bakugou’s eyes narrow slightly as he watches you, his mind racing to connect the dots. There’s no way he’s going to let this go. 

As the questioning wraps up, the detective informs you that they’ll be taking measures to ensure your safety. They discuss options for protection and keeping you secure, given the potential threat from your ex. The room feels a little oppressive now, the weight of the situation still hangs heavily in the air.

But you don't want to give more details than you have to and he's getting frustrated. Just before you’re about to leave, the detective places a protective detail on you, ensuring that you won’t be left alone. You feel a sense of mixed angery and lingering anxiety as you prepare to head out. "I believe I did say no thank you."

Bakugou watches you leave the room, his expression unreadable. The memory of your eyes, the way you looked today, and the connection he feels but can’t quite place—it's all gnawing at him. 

And he was gonna get to the bottom of it. 

The detective looks taken aback as you decline the offer for protective help. “Are you sure you don’t want us to arrange something? It’s important to stay safe.”

You sigh, feeling the weight of your decision but knowing it’s the right one. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather just have a report made of today’s events. I don’t want any special treatment.”

The present officer’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Why would you refuse protection? This is a serious situation.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “Because… I don’t have much evidence against my ex. And… well, he’s about to become a top 10 pro hero.”

The revelation hangs in the air, causing a ripple of shock among the officers and the pro heroes observing from behind the glass. The detective's eyes widen, clearly stunned. “He’s a pro hero?”

You nod, your expression a mixture of resignation and frustration. “Yeah. He’s got a high rank in the hero community. I’m worried that the law and the public won’t be on my side. They might think I’m just making things up or trying to bring him down.”

The shock on the detective's face is palpable, and he glances nervously at the pro heroes behind the glass. Kirishima, who had been standing quietly, looks even more concerned. He turns to Bakugou and the others, a look of disbelief on his face. “Unmanly.”

Izuku’s eyes widen, his concern evident. “That’s serious….”

Todoroki looks at you with a mix of sympathy and anguish as he remembers his own mother. “If he’s a pro hero, it’s even more important that we handle this carefully. We’ll have to contact Jiro and Momo to see what they can dig up.”

Bakugou’s gaze is still locked on you, his expression shifting from one of confusion to something darker. He’s clearly grappling with the gravity of your situation and the impact it has on how he views you.

The detective nods, his demeanor now more serious. “We’ll make sure your report is properly documented. It’s unfortunate that you’re in this situation, and we’ll do what we can to assist.”

As the officers begin to prepare the report, you thank them and leave the room, feeling the weight of the earlier confrontation and the new revelations. The pro heroes behind the glass continue to watch you with concern, each processing the news in their own way.

You exit the station, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. The thought of Kyoya trying to kill you has you in a daze and you realize that you should’ve asked for a business card at least or a ride home. The reality of your situation weighs on you, but there’s little time for reflection as you start running again. All but kicking the doors open, you change quickly into a fresh outfit, a look that blends professional and alluring, ready for the night at the strip club. The urgency of needing money for your uncertain future drives you, and you race out the door, determined to make the most of the evening ahead

As you make your way to the club, the world outside seems to blur into a mix of neon lights and distant chatter. The adrenaline from the day’s events still pulses through you, adding to the electric anticipation of the night. The stakes are high, but you’re ready to face whatever comes your way, fighting for your future with every step you take.

You burst into the club’s dressing room, the familiar hum of activity immediately subdued by your presence. The other dancers, already in their pre-show routine, turn in unison, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern as they see you. Micheal, her phone pressed to her ear, ends the call abruptly and hurries over.

“Where were you?” she demands, her voice tinged with worry. “I’ve been calling you for hours!”

She throws her hands up into the air before dropping them down onto her hips.

You sit down heavily, your body sinking into the plush couch as the other girls crowd around you. Their hugs are a comforting blanket against the storm of emotions raging inside you. You take a deep breath and start recounting the day’s chaotic events, your voice trembling but determined.

As you describe the unsettling encounter at the police station, some of the girls gasp in shock, their hands flying to their mouths. Others express their frustration more physically, punching and kicking the walls in frustration. Micheal, still holding your hands, looks at you with a fierce mix of concern and anger.

“Oh, fuck no!” Micheal exclaims. “You needed to report his ass!”

You shake your head, fighting back tears as the weight of the day presses down on you. “I literally can’t think of a worse way to get sold out as a sex worker while being unpaid and needing money for a lawyer when school is literally less than two weeks away!” You’re not angry, just overwhelmed, trying to keep the nausea and tears at bay.

You didn't feel up to performing tonight, you wanted to puke and to hide under your covers for a long time. There was an old burner phone with a google drive account that had pictures and videos of the abuse he put you through. It would show the dates of when things were taken and that was hidden inside a safe box in the bank. He didn't know about the phone, that was your best bet for some evidence.

Micheal was now your makeup with practiced ease and adjusting your wig until you look every bit the confident performer. You change into a lacey babydoll dress and silver heeled sandals, the outfit a mix of comfort and allure, better suited to help you feel at ease despite the circumstances.

Once you’re ready, Micheal gives you a supportive nod, her expression softening with a mixture of pride and concern. She offers her hand, and you grasp it firmly, drawing strength from her presence. The two of you head towards the stage, joined by Ruby, Pearl, Sapphire, and the other dancers who form a supportive circle around you.

You step onto the center floor with your troupe and the energy of the club envelops you.

Bakugou scanned the neon lit club, his sharp eyes catching every movement, every flicker of light from the scattered neon signs. The air was thick with the mingling scents of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume, making his nose wrinkle in distaste. His grip tightened around the glass of whisky as he took a slow, measured sip, the burn doing little to soothe the irritation gnawing at him.

He couldn't believe he was here. This wasn't his scene—too chaotic, too noisy, and filled with people he couldn't care less about. Yet, here he was, all because he couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that had taken root in his mind since the moment he woke up. His usual go-to corner was empty, devoid of your presence. It was unsettling.

A small part of him, the part he'd never admit to anyone, not even himself, had hoped you'd be here. That you'd be the girl from the station, even if that meant he'd have to confront whatever that meant for the both of you. But the more rational part of him, the one that kept him grounded, kept him from making impulsive decisions, was screaming at him to leave, to not get involved.

'What if she is?' The thought circled back, refusing to be silenced. He took another sip, savoring the warmth that spread through his chest, but it did little to quiet the tumultuous thoughts racing through his mind. 'What are you gonna do then? Drag her outta here and throw her in the back seat of the Ferrari?' He scoffed inwardly at the idea. He wasn't that kind of guy. He wouldn't force anything on anyone.

But he had to know.

He picked a seat at a center table, the perfect vantage point to observe without drawing too much attention to himself. Of course, that plan fell through the moment some idiot tried to claim the spot first.

"Hey man, I was sitting there—"

Katsuki didn’t bother with words, just turned his gaze, cold and sharp, on the guy. The idiot stiffened, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he faltered under Bakugou’s intense stare. “Never mind, it’s all good,” the guy mumbled, backing off with a hasty retreat.

Bakugou mused, his lips curling into a smirk for just a moment before his face returned to its usual scowl. He ignored the curious glances that flickered his way, dismissing them as irrelevant. He had one goal tonight—to find you, or to confirm that you weren’t here.

It took everything in him to remain calm, to not look like some obsessed stalker while his eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face among the crowd of strangers. 'Just a quick check,' he told himself, 'and then I’m outta here.' But even as he thought it, he knew it wouldn't be that simple.

As the DJ’s voice crackles through the speakers, he announces the upcoming performance with a flourish. “Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for a show you won’t forget! Let’s hear it for Marshmallow and Baby Doll!”

His eyes narrow when he sees the spotlight shift to the main stage. The DJ’s announcement fades into the background as the lights focus on the two figures stepping into the limelight. The first is Micheal, with her confident stride and dazzling smile. The second, clad in a similar lacey dress you wore earlier, makes his heart skip a beat.

It’s you.

The pulsating lights of the club dance across the floor, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that wash over the crowd. The beat of Rihanna's "Pour it Up" thumped through the speakers, the bass vibrating through the floor. The crowd's energy was infectious, feeding into your every movement as you both began to sway to the rhythm.

You and Micheal glide onto the stage, both wearing outfits that shimmer under the lights. Your flowy dress swishes with every step, and Micheal’s ensemble colors complement yours, making you both look like a perfectly matched pair. The audience’s cheers rise as you prepare to start your routine.

Micheal took the lead, her movements fluid and powerful, as she set the tone for the performance. You followed her lead, letting the music guide you as your body moved effortlessly, your hips rolling in time with the beat. The audience was captivated, their eyes glued to the two of you as you danced in perfect harmony.

Micheal spun around the pole with a graceful ease, her leg wrapping around it as she arched her back, her hair cascading down like a waterfall. You watched her with admiration, your own body moving to the rhythm as you danced beside her. The crowd was going wild, their cheers growing louder with every move.

As the song's chorus hit, you felt a surge of confidence. For the first time, you approached the pole, your hand gripping it as you spun around, your body following in a fluid motion. The crowd roared in approval, their cheers filling the room as you lifted yourself up, your muscles flexing as you held your body in a perfect split. You could feel their eyes on you, their energy feeding into your own as you moved with a newfound strength and grace.

“Throw it up, throw it up (throw up)

 Watch it all fall out (fall out)

 Pour it up, pour it up (pour up)

 That's how we ball out (ball out)”

Rihanna's voice echoed through the room, and you sang along, your voice blending with hers as you twerked and whined to the beat. You could see the girls in the front row screaming for you, their faces lit up with excitement as they threw bills onto the stage. You smiled to yourself, feeling a rush of pride as you worked the crowd, your every move earning you more cheers and applause. 

Sad bitches love money after all. 

In the background, Bakugou had been sitting at a center table, his attention laser-focused on you. The moment he saw you step onto the stage, his heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had come here to see if it was really you, and now that he had his answer, he was utterly mesmerized. When you performed the split and showed your strength on the pole, his breath caught in his throat.

 “Strippers goin' up and down that pole

   And I still got more money

   Four o'clock and we ain't going home

   'Cause I still got more money”

He stood up, pulling out three thick stacks of cash and placing them on the edge of the stage. The sight of the money caught your eye, and you slowed your spin on the pole, locking eyes with him. The connection was electric, a silent understanding passing between you as you decided to give him a show he wouldn’t forget.

With feline grace, you crawled across the stage towards him, your body moving with a sensual rhythm that had the crowd on the edge of their seats. The noise of the room faded into the background as you reached out, your fingers brushing against Bakugou’s cheek. His eyes darkened with intensity as you leaned in closer, your nails gently scratching under his chin, like you were petting a kitten.

 “The look in your eyes, I know you want some”

He leaned into your touch, his breath hitching as you ran your hand down his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. You could feel the tension between you, a spark igniting as you pressed your palm against his chest, holding his gaze. Then, with a smirk, you pushed him back down into his seat, the unexpected move catching him off guard.

 “Money on my mind

   Money, money on my mind

   Throw it, throw it up

   Watch it fall off from the sky,”

The crowd erupted in wild cheers, the noise crashing over you like a wave as you stood up, your eyes still locked on Bakugou. He sat there, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck, not from embarrassment but from the sheer thrill of the unexpected. You had just turned the tables on him, and the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t sure how to react. 

He didn’t give a shit you did that in front of the crowd, he just hadn’t expected it to feel so good . 

“Who cares how you haters feel

  And I still got more money

  My fragrance on and they love my smell

   I still got more money

   So who cares about what I spend,”

As you continued to dance, the crowd’s energy surged, and you knew that tonight, you had owned the stage in a way you never had before. Bakugou’s gaze never left you, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile the woman on stage with the girl he once knew.

“I still got more money

  My pocket's deep, and they never end

   I still got more money

   I'm going dumb with all my friends,”

As the final beats of "Pour It Up" reverberated through the club, you and Micheal finished your routine with a flourish, your bodies perfectly in sync as the crowd roared in approval. The lights dimmed for a moment, giving you a brief respite from the intense spotlight.

Bakugou, who had been watching you intently, leaned back in his seat, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He flicked more bills onto the stage, one after another, until the DJ couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

“Shoutout to that blond dude over there that looks pissed off! I saw those 3 racks!”

The DJ announced over the speakers, drawing more attention to Bakugou. Almost instantly, the other dancers swarmed him, eager to thank their generous patron.

Bakugou’s expression shifted to one of mild annoyance as he found himself surrounded by the other girls. “Oh, fuck no,” he muttered under his breath, trying to maintain his composure as they fawned over him. But despite the situation, he kept an eye on you, watching as you were swept up in a whirlwind of affection from your friends.

Micheal and Mugumi hugged you tightly, their excitement infectious as they squealed and jumped up and down with you still in their arms. Little Ruby was kissing your cheeks, her tiny hands cupping your face as she showered you with praise. You felt a wave of warmth and happiness wash over you, a sense of belonging that you hadn’t felt in years. These women weren’t just colleagues; they were your support group, your friends, and the realization made your heart swell with gratitude.

As more of the businessmen around the club noticed the affection being shown to you, they began throwing more money onto the stage, eager to join in the celebration. Pearl—Casey—looked at them with thinly veiled disgust, her nose wrinkling as she observed their behavior. But before she could say anything, Sapphire gently hushed her, flashing a charming smile as she began to flirt with them, expertly keeping the mood light and playful.

The businessmen, already tipsy and loosened up by the atmosphere, made a request for another performance. The idea was met with enthusiastic cheers from the crowd, and you could feel the buzz of excitement in the air.

But first, you needed to clean up. You and the girls quickly gathered all the money scattered across the stage, stuffing the bills into your arms and purses before hurrying to the back. The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins, your mind racing as you headed to the dressing room.

Once inside, you moved with a sense of urgency, something gnawing at the back of your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You dumped everything from your work bag—a simple duffle—into one of the filing cabinets and locked it. Then, you stuffed the duffle full of the money, every last bill, before quickly hiding the bag in the ceiling tiles, pressing it into the narrow space with a surge of paranoia.

You took a step back, your heart pounding as you stared up at the hidden duffle bag. Something didn’t feel right, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Brushing off the unease, you forced yourself to focus, knowing that you still had a job to do. With the money safely stashed away, you could finally allow yourself to breathe, if only for a moment.

The noise from the club was muffled, but you could still hear the cheers and the music, the vibrations thrumming through the walls. You straightened up, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. The next performance was just around the corner, and the crowd was hungry for more.

The girls exchanged glances, concern flashing in their eyes as they caught on to your unease. Micheal leaned in closer, her voice a low whisper, “You know there’s no way the manager and bouncers won’t take a cut of that money otherwise, right?” Her words were a stark reminder of how things worked around here, and you could see the others nodding in agreement, their expressions growing grim as they remembered the last time something like this had happened.

“Fuck it, I'll quit tonight if that fat bastard thinks he's getting his hands on my money!” Sapphire declares with fierce determination. The room went silent, everyone turning to look at her in shock. Micheal, however, just smirked, giving her an approving nod.

“Nice to see you again, Eraza. Been a hot minute,” Micheal remarks. Sapphire—Eraza—smiles and rolls her eyes.

Ruby, ever the firecracker, jumped up and adjusted her bikini top with a huff. “Yeah, if they touch our money again, we quit and go to that club for pro heroes!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with the same defiant energy. The mention of pro heroes caught your attention, your mind flashing back to the scene at the police station earlier. You shook the thought off, focusing on the task at hand.

Determined, you switched into a two-piece set with a flowy skirt, the fabric fluttering around your thighs as you moved. You slipped a garter belt onto your left leg, the cool metal of the buckle pressing against your skin. A quick adjustment of your lipstick, and you were ready. “Then let’s milk them for all they’ve got,” you said, your voice steady, though there was a manic edge to your smile.

Micheal looked at you, her surprise evident. Concern flickered in her eyes, but she matched your smile with one of her own, albeit more tempered. “We go big or go home,” you added, and the others nodded in agreement, the tension in the room shifting into a shared resolve.

“Thank God, you don’t drink or do drugs,” Micheal murmured, her relief palpable. You giggled, the sound light and airy as you shook off the last of your nerves. 

After all, this was your moment, and nothing was going to ruin it. Not tonight. But as you stepped out of the dressing room, a chill ran down your spine, a sense of foreboding settling in your gut. You shook it off, knowing you had to keep your head in the game. Together, you all made your way back to the main stage, the energy between you electric.

The DJ whispered something to Micheal as you all took your places, the lights dimming around you. The atmosphere in the club was charged, anticipation hanging thick in the air. You could see your ash-blond regular still fending off the other women (and some men) who had latched onto him. They squealed and fawned over him, their voices rising in pitch as they practically screamed  obscene things, hoping to catch his attention. The dude looked like he was seconds away from blowing up the entire club, his patience worn thin, but the bouncers weren’t in any rush to step in and stop it.

The spotlight swung over to you and the girls, the crowd’s attention snapping back to the stage as the music began to pulse through the speakers. The DJ’s voice boomed over the microphone, announcing your return, and the crowd erupted in cheers. You could feel the eyes on you, the hunger, the anticipation. It was time to give them a show they’d never forget.

The beat of "Don't Tell 'Em" by Jeremih starts to pulse through the club, the sultry rhythm reverberating in your chest as you and the girls move to the music. 

“‘Rhythm is a dancer, I need a companion

   Girl, I guess that must be you

  Body like the summer, fuckin' like no other

   Don't you tell 'em what we do,” 

The stage lights flash, casting you all in a glow that enhances the sensuality of the dance. You and Micheal move in sync, your bodies swaying to the seductive beat as you act out the lyrics with every dip and roll of your hips.

As you dance, you catch sight of the manager emerging from his office, a thick cigar clamped between his teeth, the smoke curling lazily around his head. He surveys the room with a calculating eye, pausing as he notices the commotion at your regular’s table. His gaze shifts, locking onto you and the girls on stage, and then he gestures sharply towards the back, his intention clear. Panic flares in your chest, and you turn to flip your hair, a feigned act of confidence that’s really just an excuse to share a quick, panicked glance with the others.

You notice two of the bouncers beginning to move towards your mysterious regular and the last thing you want is for him to get caught up in some unnecessary trouble. You know how these things go: a misunderstanding, a few harsh words, and then it’s fists flying. And while his scars say he doesn’t seem like the type to shy away from a fight, you can’t bear the thought of him getting beat up for just enjoying a performance.

With a decision made in a split second, you glide off the stage and slip onto his table, moving with the grace and ease that you’ve perfected over the month. The flashing lights create an almost ethereal halo around your head as you approach, making Bakugou blink twice, his sharp eyes momentarily softened by the surreal effect. For a second, he thinks he’s seeing things—something divine in the way you move, the way the lights play tricks with the shadows around you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your cool hands pressing against the warmth of his skin, and you can almost feel the tension in him, the way his muscles coil tight under your touch. But instead of reacting violently, he gently places his arms around your waist, his hands resting on his elbows as if he’s hesitant to touch you too intimately, unsure if you want to be touched at all. The contrast between his careful, almost protective hold and the raw energy he radiates is striking, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Only is you got me feeling like this

 Oh, why, why, why, why, why

 Loving while grabbing the rhythm of your hips

 That's right, right, right, right, right,”

Bakugou’s heart is pounding, so hard he’s convinced it might explode again in his chest. It’s a sensation you make him feel often, this uncontrollable rush of something he can’t quite name—something close to panic, but sweeter, almost intoxicating. As he takes in the details of your appearance—the smooth curve of your waist, the way your hair falls just so—he’s hit with a wave of recognition. The way you hold yourself, the slight tremble in your legs, it all clicks into place. The same eyes he saw at the police station, the same waist he pulled away from that burning package, the same leg you lotioned the night before.

But your hair—it’s different. As you move closer, he realizes the truth. It’s a wig. The realization is oddly grounding for him, a piece of a puzzle finally snapping into place.

A few of the other dancers start to murmur, their voices laced with jealousy and spite as they badmouth you for hogging the attention. But you don’t let go, and neither does he. You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear, your breath sending a shiver down his spine as you whisper, 

“Usual spot?” 

You tilt your head up slightly, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of those familiar eyes.

Bakugou has to shift a bit to get a better look at you, his mind racing as he connects all the dots. There’s no mistaking it now—those eyes, that leg, that waist. It’s you. The same woman from the station, the same one who’s been lingering in the back of his mind ever since. And now you’re here, in his arms, and he can feel the weight of the moment settling over him like a heavy cloak.

He can’t help but smirk, though, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he realizes just how many coincidences have led to this exact moment. But his thoughts are cut short as you pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. You’re still wrapped around him, but there’s something almost tentative in the way you hold each other— two people who don’t quite belong to each other but can’t seem to let go.

As the song begins to wind down, you both remain locked in that moment, the world around you fading into the background. 

But then, a voice cuts through the air, shattering the bubble you’ve been in.

“Funny. Real fucking funny, baby doll.”

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Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie If you wanna be added lemme know!

Chapter 1 is here

Chapter 4 is here

That was the first chapter! So far there are 9 posted on my ao3 account.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Farmer Bakugou x Gardener Reader here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[jwonsoon]

enhypen as taylor swift songs ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

☾ a/n: i've been listening to a lot of taylor swift recently and maybe i'm crazy but every song somehow reminds me of enhypen. i've been thinking about them non stop so i made a part two of the post ☼ made since you guys liked that one. this might be kinda all over the place but i hope you enjoy !

JUNGWON

cardigan "When I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone's bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite"

comfort. he's my perpetual comfort. on days when i feel like i'm doing nothing right, on days when i feel hopeless, he's always there to spark that 1% within me that wants to keep trying. his continuous effort to communicate with engenes despite his busy schedule shows me that the care he holds for us is something so genuine. he reassures me and gives me reasons to love myself. he will see you crying, sit down next to you and patiently wait and listen. comforting you by holding your hand and wiping your tears. he's always there to make your life feel worth living again. jungwon will never leave you hanging or feeling like you aren't enough; you're always enough for him. a/n my jungwonie i love you

JAKE

safe & sound "You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now"

jake to me embodies emotional protection. he's the type to hold you gently while you cry into his arms, rubbing your back telling you it's going to be okay. no matter what happens he's right there by your side the whole time. the reason i picked this song is because i can imagine jake staying up all night with you when you're overwhelmingly anxious. even if his head keeps jerking back and forth because of how tired he is, he'll make sure you fall asleep first so that he can sleep knowing you're alright.

JAY

right where you left me "You left me no choice but to stay here forever"

angsty, i know. there's two reasons why i think this song perfectly captures him. one being, his loyalty. no matter what happens he'll stay by your side. there are time when it's hard to keep going and there's a back and forth struggle but jay will be consistent and check in on you. he will sit by you and wait for you to feel better, his patience has no end when it comes to those he cares about and it's his most charming quality among many others. i also just think he's so "first love" coded. you are never getting over jay! no matter how hard you try! - but don't worry because he's waiting for you to come back too...

NIKI

paper rings "I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings"

thats bestie!!! riki symbolizes happy young love for me. best friends to lovers type. his teasing flirty manner would always make you giggle. knowing how artsy he is he would definitely make you some goofy paper ring and "propose" to you, leaving you a flustered mess. i just think this song is so upbeat and pretty and incapsulates niki's playfulness perfectly. a/n i love him so much i'm going to rip my walls out.

HEESEUNG

gorgeous "You're so gorgeous, I can't say anything to your face"

i mean... do i even have to explain? heeseung's charm is irresistible. no matter how much his constant teasing would annoy you, when you look up and see his face all of it melts away. he's so hallway crush coded, he would make you feel all giddy inside simply because of a passing head nod or just a slight smile. don't even get me started on his perfect laugh and smile! i can write a 4000 word essay on it. anywho, it's self explanatory. heeseung = gorgeous!

SUNOO

invisible string And isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some, Invisible string, Tying you to me?

sunoo is destiny. i remember watching iland and from the very beginning my eyes were hooked onto him. and now, here i am, three years later writing this. his comforting smile and how he gives so much love to those around him helps me recognize how genuinely kind of a person he is. he's someone you want to keep close. no matter what happens sunoo will always find a way to provide you with solace and light on the darker days. he's pretty, the concept of soulmates is pretty, he is such a person destined to be loved and cared for deeply. no one ever hurt him please.

SUNGHOON

the way i loved you "So in love that you act insane and that's the way I loved you"

now, let me preface this by saying, i don't think sunghoon is toxic... this is just to feed my angst loving delusions. sunghoon is the one the got away. he's the one who you cared for so deeply but it was right person wrong time. despite how much he pushed to keep your relationship intact it was hard for him. he didn't want to fight you, he wanted to fight for you. sunghoon is the type to not let you leave until you figure it out with him. he'll sit with you even if you yell at him and just listen to you. he's cares about you so deeply that you can't help but constantly think about him even when he isn't there. - because he is also constantly thinking about you.

[flightfoot]

hello! i dunno if you were accepting fanfic recs asks but - might you have any fanfic recs about chat noir angst with the rest of the superhero team?

Yeah sure! I'm not entirely sure what you mean about having the rest of the superhero team, but I'm assuming it involves them having at least some sort of role in the story? Anyway I'll do the best I can.

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Dr. Walker & Kitty Hyde series by @pearl484-blog

Summary of the first fic, Rain Falls, Everybody Lies:

Chat Noir loves the rain. He loves the danger. He loves the excitement, and he especially loves how much Catwalker hates it. 

Jekyll and Hyde AU

Adrien AUGreste Entry 3: Rain

So like the summary says, and the title indicates, this series is inspired by the popular conception of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - not how the book actually goes, but how it’s portrayed in popular media, with Jekyll splitting himself in two, with a “good” side and a “bad” side. 

During Kuro Neko, instead of just changing his appearance through changing his mindset, Adrien took more extreme measures, sealing off his “undesirable” characteristics, his anger and sadness and all his sharp edges, into the ring so he could assume a more placid, genial persona that’d be more accepted - Cat Walker. 

But Chat Noir’s still there, taking over whenever Adrien gets too testy, and desperately trying not to be pressed out of existence entirely. With embodying Adrien’s sealed anger and snappishness and rebelliousness, he’s not too kind to the other heroes - he already felt looked down upon and ignored before this, and seeing them accept Cat Walker while he’s fighting for his life doesn’t endear them to him either.

The series isn’t unfair to them - this isn’t a case where one party is entirely in the wrong and another’s entirely in the right. Marinette, Zoe, Nino, and all the others - they did wonder about what was going on with Chat, but he wasn’t in a position where he could see it, and he did have legitimate questions about how much Ladybug would budge on things, if he’d told her what he was going through. It’s a series that emphasizes characters hurting and lashing out in some terrible ways, but that hurt still being respected, and working things out, trying to get everything to a better place.

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drowning (in plain sight) by @buggachat

Everybody had expected Monarch's defeat to be a moment of triumph. Nobody had expected Gabriel Agreste, unmasked and mind frayed from continual abuse of the miraculous, crying out to all who would listen and making Paris certain of one thing:

His son, Adrien Agreste, is one of his sentimonsters.

And now he's missing.

Nobody can find him— not even the superheroes, and not even his closest friends. But Marinette, Nino, and Alya aren't ones to give up so easily. They'll find him, no matter what it takes.

(But, geez, would it kill Chat Noir to lend a hand?)

I’m sure everyone saw this one coming. If there’s one thing buggachat’s good at, storywise, it’s capturing raw, tumultuous emotions, frantic breakdowns as the characters desperately try to navigate bad situations. This was a real treat to read, as I’m betting most people reading this will agree, given just how popular the fic has been. It also has a ton of fanart, both by buggachat and by random fans, if you go looking for it (there’s a drowning in plain sight tag which I’d advise perusing). 

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one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace.

Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack for the last remaining Miraculous: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most.

Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

This is a simply phenomenal fic. You get to explore a lot of different perspectives, like Felix, Kagami, Marinette, and Adrien’s, just to name a few, and see their different thought processes and plans and priorities, and how it can cause their plans to collide with each other, even when they all ultimately are aiming for a good outcome for everyone. The characters are pretty complex and can mess up at times, even when they’re doing things (or not doing things, looking at you Luka) with the best of intentions. It was a joy to read and a real nail-biter the whole time, I actually wrote a fic for it halfway through just to resolve some of the tension for myself, One Does Not Love Shadows.

It also features the version of Luka I’ve connected best with to date, as he feels like Luka, but also is a lot more fleshed out, and can make some major errors while simply trying to avoid missteps. It’s helped me get a better handle on a character who I’ve generally had a lot of problems with really understanding.

It is an M-rated fic, though I think Wackus is being overly cautious on that front. There’s no sexual content and I wouldn’t put the violence or gore above a T-rating, so I wouldn’t let the rating scare you off.

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Chat Walker’s Trial by @pearl484-blog

Instead of Catwalker showing up to serve as her new Chat Noir, Ladybug is stunned to find that Chat Noir has returned to her, having “improved” himself by repressing his emotions, memories, and willfulness. Deciding that this will not stand, she organizes her teammates to convince Chat Noir that giving those traits up and becoming the perfect partner was not the right move, but how can she argue against perfection?

Adrien Augreste 2022 entry for the day 23-24 prompt: Swap

This is a really intriguing fic. Instead of becoming Cat Walker in Kuro Neko, Adrien instead runs across a mage who helpfully provides some spells to make him into the “perfect” partner for Ladybug, magically suppressing his emotions and urge to rebel, as well as his memories of being Chat Noir, in order to make sure he doesn’t love her anymore. Ladybug, naturally, is distraught about this, but since Chat did all of this of his own free will, she needs to actually persuade him it was a bad move, which isn’t as easy as it sounds. It’s exquisitely painful at times with the amount of self-hatred Chat has for his previous self, and how the Miracuteam is divided on how bad these changes actually are, since he does seem more focused now - though the holdouts are a lot less on board when they think of someone who’s closer to them going through this process.

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I hope that these scratch your itch!