#On a side note: someone ask me how much I love/hate coding

[2af-afterdark]

Looks like that other BL game Velvet React is ending in June. Never did very well and apparently there was some NTR drama and quite honestly I’m not surprised it’s ending.

While I feel bad for the people that enjoyed that game, I personally never played it. I just never had much interest in it. It sucks when a game shuts down though :/ Unless someone documented the contents, it will likely become lost media some day.

Also, while I am not an NTR fan, I don't kink shame. Some people are into that and power to the people if they found a game that was willing to cater to them. Although, idk what the drama was, so I can't have a real opinion on it. All I can really say is that you gotta know who your fans are. If you are catering to freaks (affectionate) then you gotta make sure they are actually in your audience. If you want something more vanilla, make sure you have the romance crowd following you. If the game wasn't set up to welcome NTR, that was a huge misstep on their part.

If you noticed, a few of the 'male lead' games on EROLABS have vanished. I don't even recall what the other one was called, but there used to be seven games. I don't expect yokai legends to last long either. Hell, even the 'female lead' games tend to vanish pretty regularly. It seems they cycle out the low performers pretty regularly.

Nu: Carnival is their #1 game over all, so that one is pretty safe. Noctilucent, despite very few people seeming to talk about it on the social media platforms I use, is currently at #8. What in Hell is Bad? is at #11, so its probably safe as long as it doesn't drop.

Sorry, I got off topic, but... yeah. Sucks for Velvet React players. Let this be a reminder to use all that mobile games are the worst games to get invested in because they can vanish at any moment and you will have nothing left, even if you sunk hours into them. We all live in fear of the day the servers go offline. I wish more companies would release their mobile games on actual councils or PCs once they were done with them so they didn't just vanish. Blood Domination my beloved

[nizhspo]

genre: haikyuu imagine, smut

pairing: keiji akaashi x fem!reader

warning: he eats pussy #wbk

summary: last semester is stressful.

notes: i love akaashi sm yall i always pictures him as like olive w black curls and the most beautiful out of the hq boys idk..

the apartment is warm.

not hot, just cozy. soft yellow light spilling from the little lamp on the nightstand, quiet hum of the dryer tumbling sheets in the background. your shared room smells like cedarwood and that lavender spray he always uses before bed. your laptop’s still open in the living room, abandoned next to your half-drunk tea and color-coded notes.

you don’t remember how you got to the bed.

one second you were spiraling over grad school applications and your ridiculous to-do list, and the next you were lying on your stomach, head turned sideways into the pillow, while keiji sat behind you with those slow, purposeful hands of his.

he’s been massaging your back for the last ten minutes. hasn’t said a word, just letting his fingers do the talking; pressing deep into your lower spine, rubbing circles up the slope of your shoulders, working tension out of your muscles like it’s personal.

you hum softly. your breath hitches when he shifts his weight, straddling your thighs, palms gliding down your sides like he’s tracing you into memory.

“i hate how tense you get when you’re stressed,” he says, finally. his voice is so quiet. soft. it sinks into your skin like heat.

“can’t help it,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut. “i just want everything to be perfect.”

his lips brush your shoulder. “you already are.”

you don’t answer. not because you don’t believe him—just because he says it like it’s a fact.

and when keiji speaks like that, you don’t argue.

his hands drift lower. slow. dragging over your hips, the curve of your ass, then back up to rest at your waist.

you shiver.

“can i take care of you?” he asks. voice hushed, gentle. like asking for permission to pray.

you nod into the pillow. slow. wordless.

he turns you over like you’re something precious. pulls your shorts down inch by inch, kissing his way up your thighs so patiently it makes your lungs catch.

“just relax,” he murmurs, eyes dark but soft. “let me.”

he kneels between your legs, nudging them apart with warm, careful hands. he kisses you like he’s saying goodnight to every inch of you.

when his mouth finally meets you—warm, slow, deliberate, you gasp.

his tongue moves in long, slow strokes, barely-there at first. teasing. reverent. like he’s savoring it. like this is for him just as much as it is for you.

he groans softly when you arch your hips, gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he flattens his tongue against your clit, dragging it slow and deep. over and over, never rushing, never messy. it’s controlled. purposeful. the kind of head that only someone who’s been loving you for years knows how to give.

you’re already dripping. already trembling. already threading your fingers through his hair, whispering his name like it’s the only word you remember.

“keiji,” you breathe, high and thin. “oh my god—”

he hums into you. and it’s that, really, that quiet sound of i’ve got you, that sends you over the edge.

it’s not loud. not explosive. it’s soft and shattering. the kind of orgasm that leaves you breathless and boneless, fingers slack in his hair, tears stinging your lashes just from how much you love him.

he doesn’t stop until your thighs twitch. until you’re whimpering, please, too much, too good.

he kisses the inside of your knee before crawling up beside you and pulling you into his chest.

you’re still shaking a little. but you’re smiling.

“thank you,” you whisper.

keiji presses a kiss to your temple. “anytime.”

you fall asleep like that. pressed against him, the weight of everything finally off your shoulders.

your grad school applications can wait.

[flouia]

came across your theory and i’d like to hear more of your thoughts on Kris and the hints towards their past trauma! i’d also like to contribute that i think that the Forgotten Man might represent some sort of repressed memory—he follows kris through all dark worlds, and can only talk in the dark world they made in their own house, strengthening the connection between them. the forgotten island where you find him in ch3 is also a representation of kris’ early childhood, full of toys they forgot about when they grew up and started watching/playing games on the tv (dark world logic being “the whole world used to look like this, before tenna showed up! we didn’t sign his contract so now we’re stuck here”). and his ch4 appearance, in the therapy room, also feels very obviously important. there’s still some gaster-y weirdness about him and he mentions wanting to help someone in the secret valentines letter that has basically been confirmed to be him, so maybe he’s trying to help kris somehow? not sure, would love to know what you think.

Hi there! i'm actually in love with you for asking about this. Please don't die at the sight of what i can only assume is over 2000 words of theory talk. I really enjoyed writing this.

AGAIN! MASSIVE MASSIVE DELTARUNE SPOILERS!!!

THIS IS A

DELTARUNE THEORY

COVERING INFORMATION FROM CHAP 3+4 PRIMARILY (Stemming from a prev. post of mine) SUICIDE/SUICIDAL THOUGHT REFERENCES IN RELATION TO KRIS!! BE SAFE!

I actually am aware of the idea the forgotten man could represent the repression of kris's past and memories, i think that'd be a great concept and would give us alot of insight on heaaapps of things. Also once again would be VERY omori esq.

In relation to him possibly being gaster, i do really wish we had more info on him. Because we technically in canon have essentially no information on him other than he was a scientist and he fell into his own creation (in undertale nontheless, which could mean nothing in deltarune) i think that the fandom has very much created a all encompassing being that essentially fills every plot hole we can't answer. That doesn't mean our interpretation of him is inherantly wrong, but if gaster is the entity we're talking about it would reveal alot about his character, because we don't even really know what he looks like. 'His' sprite in undertale's code isn't even confirmed to be him.

However, something incredibly interesting about him is he's referred to in UT as 'the forgotten man' by the genocide route characters in the core. The sprite in the code is called the watching man, which could be taken as a link due to him 'watching' kris (perhaps in the art therapy room or even just as they traverse the dark world.) But because of his reputation as "a lost, forgotten soul" it is VERY possible that directly links to him being THE forgotten (egg) man in deltarune.

Also he's Dr. W.D Gaster. A doctor in a ward makes sense if he's the one hosting kris's alleged therapy.

Ok now i'll talk about the thing you actually talked about lmao

If Gaster/Forgotten man/Egg man is actually a symbol for a repressed memory- or even if the tree is, as it's possibly that too- i feel as though the game would fully end up.. i hate to use the word copy, but a copy of OMORI. The storyline would be very similar. don't get me wrong- i love the plot concepts, but it would feel very copypaste if they did that, which is why i believe or atleast hope that the forgotten man won't end up as that- a symbol of a repressed memory.

As to the plausability of it being true- it's very, very possible at this point due to how toby and his team have set it up. The fact that yes, the forgotten man has only appeared in the dark world so far, really implies it so. Especially because of the way Ralsei speaks of the dark world;

"What happens if the remaining light was taken away? And it got darker than dark? Then- maybe you'd be able to start seeing again." Side note: Gaster's theme is constantly associated as "Darker yet darker". The dark world is literally called the dark world and described as darker than dark.

Now Ralsei constantly reiterates in chapter 3 the fact that the dark world is not real. Additionally, It's seen that depending on the person who opened the fountain's views and motivations and just.. general personality greatly affects the reality within said dark world. Like when Susie's dark world is 'messed up', and Kris's living room one revolves essentially around them a significant portion of the time, eg Tenna referring to them specifically in fight dialogue ("Couples fight all the time! Tell 'em, Kris!") etc it really shows how the egg man is quite possibly a part of kris's mind. Which would make EVEN MORE sense if gaster has something to do with kris's soul- ESPECIALLY IF GASTER IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PLAYER'S CONTROL OVER KRIS. Plus, the fact that heaps of Forgotten man lore/scenes are in Kris's dark world (chap3) are telling.

i am so sorry this is so long so far. i love writing about this. ONTO KRISES BACKSTORY.

Dialogue i will be referencing if i remember: "Without play the knife grows dull" "that flicker in their eyes (that kris can't hide)" "you just wanted to have fun.. REAL fun.. like the old days" on snowgrave: "The same part of you that enjoyed yesterday. Knowing you could say it wasn't really you." +Secret boss claiming kris had or HAS violent tendencies. All this implies kris's backstory is far darker than anyone initially imagined. My current suspicion is that Kris, after the 'traumatic event' mentioned in my last post became intensely violent, with significant intrusive thoughts. It's very possible that these violent tendencies also occurred before the event, which possibly even led to the event actually happening. Kris as a character has been revealed to have so, so much more personality than we previously thought and interpreted. We find out they don't just play piano, they enjoy it, and that they have interests and likes and dislikes, motivations, emotions and opinions, and most of all the fact they are not just a vessel for us to play as. Here's what i think happened in Kris's past: (Note: Kris possibly is dealing with intrusive thoughts building up pre-event /possibly caused? by the fact they are the only human in a place filled with 'monsters', which is proven to have had a effect on them as a child through the devil horns they wore and dialogue throughout the game) >Kris and Dess among possibly other friends including noelle and asriel, frequently hang out as a group. >Kris, due to their dark thoughts and nature, suggests they hang out in a haunted woods or something childlike and similar. >Maybe they experiment with "witchcraft", possibly with the help of catty who is shown to have a interest in spells etc. >Something goes violently wrong and kris ends up as the one blamed. Whether they are responsible or not is up for debate. Maybe the crew tried to summon a 'demon', ended up summoning gaster or the knight, i don't know. >The something that goes violently wrong ends up with Dess incredibly injured or even dead. Kris's knife is involved. Perhaps they got in a argument about something and the thoughts won kris over. >Due to Kris's participation in the event, they end up with severe trauma and intense intrusive thoughts or accidental violent tendencies, maybe social isolation (hence why they in chapter 1 have no friends at the beginning) (susie is unaware as it is suggested she is relatively new to the town and school) >As Kris is blamed, and due to the issues of their trauma and thoughts, they are put in a institution for a little while, or similarly just given restricted movement abilities OR forced to attend frequent (Group?) Therapy. >Carol holiday, who again has a preserving motif, is unable to let Dess go and has a "i would do anything for my family" mindset and character arc. Dess's death/injury/coma ruins her. >She attempts to find a way to bring back, or save, Dess and ends up possibly with the idea that she can bring her back through the dark world or some other similar way. >Carol blames Kris, therefor by way of manipulation and/or guilt tripping, sees Kris's vulnerable state and employs them to assist her in attempting to bring Dess back. >Hence why Kris is following Carol's 'orders' and assisting them, partially unwillingly or to their own expense. Because they have made a deal and Kris feels obligated to stick to it.

Getting into very very theoretical here; >Kris realises at some point maybe a year or two before chap1 that they do not want to help Carol, and the town needs to move on from Dess's death (or something like that) >They attempt to tell carol they no longer want to participate >Carol says no you're stuck with this >Kris tries to escape her manipulation and deal, but ends up doing something that makes carol furious or realise she needs more control of them. REENTERING THE GASTER/CAROL IN KAHOOTS GAVE KRIS THE PLAYER-CONTROLLED SOUL STUFF! i am milking this theory to its death. >Carol/Gaster duo inflicts soul upon kris in the hopes it will be more loyal than kris has been, and also psychologically torturing them a little in the process, ESPECIALLY in the snowgrave route. (side note; i actually havent though heaps much more about kris's past as i've been exploring other ideas... but if you want to talk more about those theories let me know!) An explanation behind Kris's absolute hatred and resentment of the SOUL during the snowgrave route (as if they don't have enough reasons already) is that not only are we tormenting their childhood best friend but additionally it means they as a person are inflicting the same manipulative pain onto someone as Carol did them, forcing someone to do things they didn't want to. It is weird that kris carries a knife around with them, as pointed out jokingly by Susie. Perhaps the violent thoughts haven't fully stopped. Maybe.. and this is DARK, but maybe they want a failsafe incase the soul, or carol, goes too far. So that if the soul does something so, so horrendously bad they could kill themself to get out of it. final act of regaining control. or maybe kill the soul. FIND OUT NEXT CHAPTER! idk Judging by their illusive dark past it's very possible they were directly suicidal or had suicidal thoughts... and those kinds of thoughts, even when you get better, are never fully gone. They stick with you forever. ....or there's a chance they just like eating entire pies at night and opening dark fountains with the knife and I'm the weird one here... we may never know THANKYOU FOR READING ALL THIS. I AM SORRY IT IS SO LONG. the ramblings of the insane are not a quick meal. if you want me to, again, elaborate on anything specific lmk i will write about this for days if need be. I'll try not to make it so long next time tho haha. if i didn't answer your ask properly then oopsie daisies i apologise profoundly // Thankee again for thou time, Flouia

[gengar-pixel-2]

Transformers animated liveblog: SPOILER WARNING!

Onto the seventh episode of season three, one I was waiting for. Ya'll aren't ready for this one.

MORE WASP!!! I WAS AWAITING HIM TO BECOME CREATURE!! THIS IS IT! I love wasp, so.. But I have a lot to say... Because spoiler: I loved this episode!

It starts with as usual, wasp going through it, This poor guy CANNOT catch a break. I feel so bad for wasp. I love him.. i want to protect him...

There's also more jet twins in this episode, so that's a win!

..You know what isn't a win though?

SENTINEL PRIME.

I will go into this further but he CONTINUES to be the worst!!

Optimus and sentinel argue about what to do with wasp, and sentinel says how there are no innocent bots, to which prime goes "nuh uh" but too late, because..

RUN BOY, RUN!!

..oh hey!! dinobot jumpscare, he gets taken away. ..Gee, wonder why.. hmm.. (ominous foreshadowing) And.. off the gang go again!!

"Sentinel, you don't wanna go after that thing!"

I'M CACKLING OVER THIS IT'S SO STUPID MY GOD,,,

THE BITCH IS BACK!!! THE GIRLBOSS!!

Wasp's reaction is kinda silly lmao- he's real for that one. Who can blame him? Pretty spider lady! A goth girl! /silly

So turns out she's been doing.. fucked up experiments to try and get rid of her organic half. ..Good for her! We love a woman who does fucked up science. Slay! Women in stem!! ..honestly would've liked to see more in the show indicate her science side, but tbh, this isn't actually an issue. more just a thought. Like I know she does science but it would be nice for the show itself to say it. that being said..

GET SLAGGED, IDIOT. HA-

"..Should we take notes?" "On what NOT to do?" Back to the lab after some great lines from the twins and sentinel being.. himself. Sure hope nothing bad happens here!

"So, autobots lie to wasp, call wasp traitor, But not traitor! But still chase wasp! Oh, wasp confused..." Oh...

Arachnia goes "Yeah, yeah, I get it. autobots betrayed you, now you hate them. been there, done that, it's a big chunk of my backstory."

the vulnerability in his optics.. The soft tone as he asks the question.. oh.. my baby, my baby.. He's been alone and on the run for so long. He's probably so.. touch starved, too. He just wants someone.. he just wants safety.. a friend..

..I can't keep talking about this, I'm gonna get upset. Moving on.

HIS HEAD TILT.. AUGHHH WHY IS HE SO CUTE... I am so normal about him guys, trust. trust.

Arachnia just goes "Hey boy, get into my fucked up evil machine and you can get revenge on the autobots."

WASP NO!! NO WASP!! WASP IT'S A TRICK! NOOOO-

His expression here kills me. I fucking hate this show. It's stupid. (JOKE!! JOKE!!)

MY SHAYLA.. MY SHAYLA.. NOO... MY BABY AUGHHHH

THATS! KINDA FUCKED UP! I mean I knew it was coming but uh!! wow!! okay!!

anyway sentinel continues to be an idiot. Some dinobot stuff also.

OH BUT THE JET TWINS!! THE JET TWINS!! I love them so much oh my god,, I'm so normal about them also, trust.

"Diversion? What kind of diversion?" "Means for we to blow something up." "Oh good! I am liking diversion." I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR

Okay, so.. remember when I said sentinel continues to be the worst, and how I was gonna get back to that? ..Yeah, here it comes. buckle up.

I. Have. Never. Been. More. ANGRY towards sentinel, throughout all my watching of this show so far, THAN IN THIS EPISODE.

BECAUSE LET ME TELL YOU, LET ME TELL YOU, THE SHIT HE SAID! WHAT HE DID!

So he breaks into the lab and sees arachnia. I'm gonna be sharing a few screenshots and showing you their exchange to get my point across. Text is color coded, ofc. blue for sentinel, purple for arachnia.

"I don't know what kinda weird organic horror you are, but if wasp is inside that giant tin-can, I want him out now!"

Okay so he starts by calling her a "weird organic horror." Not great.

"Full of yourself as ever, eh sentinel?.."

"You.. You know me?" "I did once."

"There is NO WAY I'd have ANYTHING to do with a mutant freak like you!" PULLING NO PUNCHES, ARE WE SENTINEL? Primus, dude.. So not only is he racist to humans but ALSO to organic cybertronian hybrids! Great! Oh but no. no, that's not the worst part.

"The one with the unstable energon cubes? and the SPIDERS?"

Then sentinels optics widen, and he goes with a shaky finger point goes:

"..Elita-one?"

"It's blackarachnia now, sentinel. Thanks to you and optimus.."

"But I.. I thought you.. went offline."

"Well.. least you two manged to get your stories straight."

"I never forgave optimus for leaving you behind, you know. It was his idea, y'know! A-And ultra magnus? H-He wouldn't even let us go back to recover your shell!"

"Then I guess no bot is innocent.."

"Okay this is bad, but maybe he'll I dunno.. REACT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON." NO HE DOESN'T. THIS IS SENTINEL. STOP HOLDING OUT HOPE, YOU FOOL.

Shuddering, literally gagging as he talks: "I-I just- never knew.. Never imagined something this.. Unspeakable, could've happened to you!"

"How can you even live like that? I mean it's horrible! GAH! It's DISGUSTING!"

"Okay, okay, I get it! It's BAD but it's not that bad! Alright?"

YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT HE DOES? HIS RESPONSE?

"You should've gone offline.."

WHAT THE FUCK?? EVEN AFTER LEARNING ITS HER, HE TELLS HER SHE SHOULD'VE DIED BECAUSE OF WHAT SHE BECAME. WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??? EVEN AFTER LEARNING THATS ELITA, HE STILL THINKS SHE'S AN ABOMINATION THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST AND SHOULD'VE DIED. AND HIS REACTION?? IS TO FUCKING KILL HER.

I CANNOT WITH THIS GUY. I CAN'T. I'M LOSING MY ACTUAL SHIT. THAT'S SO MESSED UP, TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE. WHEN OPTIMUS LEARNED IT WAS HER, ALL THE WAY BACK IN SEASON ONE WITH "ALONG CAME A SPIDER" HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION WAS THAT HE WANTED TO HELP HER. HE STILL SEES HER AS A PERSON, AS ELITA. HE DIDN'T ATTACK, HE WASN'T LIKE "OH YOU FREAK GO DIE" NO. HE WANTED TO HELP HER, BECAUSE HE CARES ABOUT HER AND HE MISSED HER. I have never been. this angry over a fictional character in a while. SENTINEL. WHEN I CATCH YOU, ITS OVER.

*breathes* okay so we get a little focus off the two for just a moment. To quell my rage, look who it is!

WASPINATOR!! WASP!! HE IS NOW CREATURE!! THE CIRCUMSTANCES HORRIFIC, BUT THE DESIGN KICKS ASS! YES! WOOHOO! LOOK AT HIM AND HIS MANDIBLES, HIS COMPOUND OPTICS AND WINGS! YIPPPEEE! WHAT JOY!

oh okay never mind sentinel spoke again. ..But also, look at him fly around! whee!

back to my rage, because believe it or not, it gets worse than what I described above.

"It's an abomination.. Just like you! And I can't allow it!"

"..I can't allow any of it." (sentinel says, pointing his lance directly at her.)

"So that's it? You'd just slag your old friend elita-one?"

"DON'T SAY THAT NAME! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO SAY THAT NAME!"

Sentinel knocks her helmet off, revealing.. her without it! her face!

SHE LOOKS SO COOL. I'M SORRY. LOOK AT HER. ..ah, right. sentinel's still here. *clears my throat.*

"..You're not elita-one, you mutant freak."

"Elita-one went offline a long time ago.."

I AM SPEECHLESS. I HAVE NO WORDS. MY GOD I CAN'T. I CAN'T. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, THAT'S SUCH A VILE THING TO SAY. THAT'S HEINOUS. THAT'S ACTUALLY SO GROSS. THAT'S DISGUSTING.

i can't put my rage in words so i'm just using this image to convey them because I've run out of things to say. I fucking hate this guy.

Anyway BREATHE because WASP!! get him wasp!! also blackrachnia's taunting is peak.

Optimus saying "I'm the one who left you behind, sentinel's not to blame for what you look like" DUDE. also blackarachnia saying what she looks like only being "half the story" and who she is being a lot more complicated. we love complicated girlies!

Anyway wasp and bee time!!! yay!!

it's so awkward. I love it.

"Waspinator MEGA cool, thanks to new friend!" YES BABY YOU ARE!!!

also bee's genuine apology is really touching. His expression adds to it. ..This apology will work, right guys? It's so nice! it has to!

"Wasp.. forgive bumblebot." "Oh really?"

"BUT WASPINATOR NEVER FORGIVE!"

PSYCHE!! NO!! HAHA! i love this im sorry.

Then something happens that just. continues to make me get stupidly emotional over opt-lita in this universe.

"This time, we're not leaving without you!" (says optimus, not sentinel ofc.)

"This time, I am!"

Blackarachnia JUMPS into the blast and makes a web shield so the others are okay. ...She.

She didn't need to do that. She didn't even know if she'd survive the blast. She could've easily left them. she could've let the blast take them offline but she didn't. she sacrificed herself to save them, regardless if she would've lived. ..Something also tells me this was more for optimus than sentinel. None the less. oh. oh ow.. girl... oh...

OH GOD DAMN IT NEVER MIND SENTINEL OPENED HIS MOUTH AGAIN. HAVEN'T YOU DONE ENOUGH?

"..She sacrificed herself to save us." (optimus)

"Either way? We're rid of them both.." (sentinel)

ONCE AGAIN SHUT UP OH MY GOD. I- no no i've already said enough you get my point. once again awful thing to say. this is.. ALSO vile. this makes me feel so gross....

Something tells me when optimus was "Defending" sentinel, at the steelhaven before jetfire, jetstorm, and jazz leave, he was just saying those words so he could take the heat off of them, so they wouldn't be yelled at and berated and he wouldn't lash out at them. hence jazz's surprise over this. Optimus also sounds really unsure in his words when he says them, and judging by his voice and expression, you can tell. ..Either that, or I'm reading it wrong. Who knows? Even then though, sentinel still winds up lashing out at the others. ..So I guess it was all in vain.

HE SAID THE THING!

anyway don't care, didn't ask, JUNGLE PLANET

I guess they're stuck in jumanji or something. I dunno.

Anyway I'd say "Can't wait for the next one!" but i've already seen them, lol. This was delayed due to valentines day and I figured I wouldn't stress about it. I'll probably make a shorter post talking about human error, seeing as how I enjoyed that pair of episodes. All I hope is for waspinator to come back because.. I need more of him. <3 anyway don't tell me if he does or doesn't in the notes, I have been narrowly avoiding spoilers this entire time and I've gone this far. But I know you are all better than that! Besides, what fun would spoiling the plot for me be? You wouldn't get my live reaction if you did!

[jjtheresidentbaby]

HELLO LOVE!!! @bebbie-bilinski AGAIN!!

ok like we discussed this is def gonna be a more hurt/comfort oriented request :P

as always regressor!stiles and cg!derek at the loft haha

ok i was wondering if you could maybe do something where stiles is upset -very upset- we're talking ugly crying inconsolable throwing pillows full speed at walls that sort of upset tho im not too sure as to why he could be upset maybe its all the stress of having near death experiences thanks to the supernatural world or maybe its due to thinking about past trauma too much (or take some creative liberties! u know i'll eat it up regardless) im thinking stiles will be big during this and derek tries frantically to help in whatever way he can and once hes calmed down hes just too exhausted to do anything else but regress and recuperate from all the big emotions :P then its all derek asking what stiles wants to get comfy and big ol clueless stares from stiles cus he has no idea what he wants lol im not sure if id rather they be alone when stiles regresses or maybe peters there too anyways theres obligatory cuddles in big comfy t shirts and!! itty-bitty-baby regressor stiles coded pretty please (´∀｀)♡ ! god im so sorry this is so long i hope that was detailed enough!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ remembering ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| stiles stilinski & derek hale & peter hale || read on ao3

notes: this got requested and hour ago and I’m already answering it & it’s midnight, someone pray for me

warnings: set after s3 before s4, mentions/talk of void stiles, crying, angst, hurt/comfort, pet names, Peter being referred to as “papa”

-

Derek watches in horror as Stiles scream sobs in the middle of the lofts living room, his hands are grabbing at his throat as though he can’t breathe, body halfway bent in on itself as he only grows louder. Derek doesn’t know what to do. Stiles had texted him asking if he could come over, saying he felt upset and maybe a slip coming, Derek of course replied immediately saying he’d be waiting.

What Derek didn’t expect was to open the loft door to Stiles already crying, thick tears staining his pale skin and hiccuping breaths leaving his chest. Derek had tried to pull Stiles into his arms, the little usually clings to Derek when upset, but he got pushed away from. There’s been no explanation as to why Stiles is so upset but that doesn’t seem to matter to Derek, he’s too heartbroken to think about it.

“Stiles, Stiles please breathe, it’s okay.” Whether or not Stiles can even hear Derek’s voice is really up for debate, Derek keeps trying anyways. His own tears threatening to spill when Stiles’ knees shake and he drops to the ground, Derek right by his side.

“I can’t- I can’t Der, I can’t!” Small red lines appear on Stiles’ throat where he scratches at the skin, Hale catching his wrists before it can get any worse. The last thing he needs is to try and preform first aid while Stiles is in this state.

“Can’t what? What is it baby? Talk to me.” It shakes coming out of Derek’s mouth, hating how Stiles cries even harder.

“It’s too much! I don’t want it!” Stiles sobs before falling into Derek’s chest, screaming as loud as he can get before another sob bubbles from his throat.

“What don’t you want? You gotta talk to me, let me help.” Derek’s voice is hoarse with desperation, allowing Stiles to hit at his sides after Derek releases his wrists.

“All of it! I- I remember it all Der, I don’t want it, please. Please make it go away.” The begging tone and pleading eyes sent Derek’s way is enough for his breath to catch. He suddenly knows what this is all about, void Stiles, the hell that happened last year and still haunts his little night and day. Hale can’t imagine what it felt like to have someone control Stiles’ mind like that, but he knows what Stiles tells him, and that alone is enough to make Derek nauseous.

“It wasn’t you, it wasn’t you baby. It’s okay.” He soothes the best he can despite knowing how little it really does. Nothing can fix what happened, or the results it left behind.

“I don’t want to remember, I hate it. I wanna go back, let me go back.” Stiles’ hands cling around Dereks neck, fingers pulling at the t shirt he has on so tightly the material could rip.

“Go back where?” If there’s a place Stiles wants to go that’ll comfort him Derek will move hell on earth to get him there.

“To before. When- when void didn’t exist, to before it all happened.” Oh.

“Oh honey…” Derek has no words to say, he can only pull Stiles up into his lap more and rub his hand down the brunettes back. There’s still small whimpers and tears spilling from Stiles, Derek hates that he can’t make it all feel better, that he can’t take this kind of hurt away. He wishes he could hold Stiles’ hand and watch his veins turn black as he drained Stiles of his pain, but this isn’t physical, and there’s no easy fix to it.

“I want papa.” There’s a tremble when Stiles talks, he’s obviously dropped into his regression, a younger headspace from what Derek can tell just by his voice. And he wants Peter. Derek knows Peter went out to the grocery store at least an hour ago, he hopes he’ll be getting back soon.

“I’ll text him, okay?” Stiles nods along, eyes already drooping with exhaustion from his overwhelmed state. The attire he has on can’t be comfortable, jeans and a t shirt is fine while big but Hale knows Stiles will want something softer in his regressed state.

With that, Derek decides Stiles should change and quickly picks him up to walk them over to Peters bedroom, knowing that Stiles will want to wear something of Peters if he’s not here. He always likes to have something of one of his caregivers on, whether it he Derek’s hoodie or Peters shirt all depends on who Stiles is feeling clinger towards.

“Which one do you wanna wear?” The top drawer of Peters dresser is open wide enough for Stiles to see each t shirt folded neatly, Peters always been a precise person and his organization never fails to portray that.

“Do you want me to pick for you?” After a long beat of silence where Stiles only stares blankly into the drawer Derek figures he’d have a better bet choosing himself. Stiles nods in approval before Hale grabs the cranberry red t shirt that he knows is oversized even for Peter so it should be hanging off of Stiles, how he likes his shirts to be when small.

“Alright buddy let me text your papa and then we’ll get you out of those clothes.” A quick text messily explaining everything that just happened gets sent out quickly to Peter, he replies immediately, assuring Derek he’d be home as soon as he could and that grocery shopping would have to wait.

-

Once Stiles is changed into a small pair of pajama shorts and Peters shirt, him and Derek curl into the couch together. There’s a kids show playing lowly but neither are paying attention. Stiles is chewing the collar of Peters shirt, having refused a tether or pacifier, and Derek’s busy focusing in on Stiles’ heartbeat. It’s normal, not spiking in anxiety or panic, he should be relaxing with that information. He can’t. His brain is too busy running through what possibly could’ve happened to trigger Stiles like that.

It could’ve been his own overthinking, that’s happened a couple times, but never lead to that intense of a reaction. Derek prays silently that it wasn’t somebody saying something to upset Stiles, or a random bout of flashbacks as that always leaves Stiles restless for at least a few days if not a full week.

“Munchkin! What happened?!” Peters booming voice cuts through Derek’s thoughts and he’s quickly met with Peter barreling over to where the two are on the couch. Stiles instantaneously climbs off of Derek to cling around Peter with a happy giggle at Peter hugging him in close. At least he’s calmed down now.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” Seconds pass where Stiles just stares at Peter, the older Hale obviously growing more concerned as his brow furrows and Derek swears his eyes couldn’t grow any wider.

“Papa!” Stiles finally bursts out and latches around Peter again, it makes both the caregivers give out a small sigh of relief and chuckle at Stiles’ endless need for affection and his lack of communication skills in baby space.

Derek knows he and Peter will have to talk about what happened once Stiles goes to sleep, which shouldn’t be too far away with how tired he looks. The questions buzzing in his head will have to wait to get answered, and Peter might genuinely never let Stiles leave the loft again, but for now Derek leans back into the couch and tries to relax. Peter gives him a knowing look, that one that says he can feel how much tension Derek still holds about the situation, he lets Peter knock his shoulder into Derek in support. They’ll figure it out.

[seeingivy]

method acting asks!

link

this is an edit of y/n that connie would repost. like connie and reiner no shame repost edits of all of their friends or comment and interact with stan accounts. erwin also reposts eren edits like that's his shining star

hi!!!! shower playlist is so real...i actually get ideas for lots of method acting performances when i'm listening to my own playlist (see: vampire performance)

that being said, NEVER TAKE ADVICE FROM SOMEONE WHO IS FALLING APART!!! so y/n when she finds out like gabi really idolizes her and loves her when she thinks everyone hates her

THE SO AMERICAN GOES CRAZY. anyways, there's a way I found a way to include it so we will leave that on pause. but it's such a cute song it drives me crazy they are so down horrendous for one another

also SO REAL. me converting people to the taygenda and now the godlivia of it all is how it should be. she is perfect. side note, but this is something that would happen at y/n's concert. casually holding a baby.

glad to see we're all on the same loulivia brairot. THAT VIDEO OF THEM IS SO CUTE LIKE ITS SO SICKENING THE WAY HE RUNS OF HER. also this is eren coded. grinning so big like that's not his girlfriend that he sees everyday like I love them so much

yet another loulivia mention with this tiktok. it's so early eren and y/n coded too like after the vow renewal tbh like this is a song she would write

link. YOU DRIVE ME CRAZYYYYYY STOP IT RN MY HEART HURTS SO SO BAD. im so glad this fic is special to people and u guys tolerate it bc I get to put so many of my personal interests in it and talk about them (with the asks about fancasting, pop culture, blind items, being chronically online) like it's just so fun I love it sm.

when I heard we can't be friends, I told @/babiemay that's the song and mv she would release if she was still active around that time. I also feel like it really relates to that era after jeankasa engagement where eren was with hyla but they still talked a lot (when sukuna was also calling her out about it) bc they CAN NOT in fact be friends

that being said, thank you for your patience! I had to put the chapter on hold for my exam (that I passed!) so I will be back to it tomorrow

but if there's any consolation, I am not even halfway done with the chapter and it's already 10k so you're getting a nice big one! heavy on historia/ymir/sofia and pre-wedding festivities. and kissing obviously.

anyways, sneak peek:

[littleshysheep-at-da]

Hello, I like your art can you share some Sasajima Kyouya/Wrath headcanons? He’s my favourite character.

OHMYGOSH THANK YOU SO MUCH???

*cracks knuckles* YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE. Honestly he’s my Favorite too! A decent of my Headcanons for him revolve around my OT3 or the Demon Army Family so here we go!

This may contain vague Spoilers and I may edit this for grammar or to add more details…

Honestly consider this part 1 because if you ask again later I’d probably have even more written down lol.

(I’m ripping this from my KumoDesu Fanfic ideas Doc so if some of the wording is wonky that’s why btw THERE’S A LOT)

To start I’ve def said this before here: Things to note I’m obsessed with my headcannon of Shun x Katia x Kyouya as an OT3 and there is zero content but I have a million ideas but no energy. Also you can rip the headcannon of the demon army as family with Ariel x Shiraoi as the parents to Mera, Sophia, and Kyouya (and YES I have a long winded modern and other AUs shut up) from my cold dead hands.

Shiro and Kyouya Mother-Son: The Labyrinth and the Mountains are probably the 2 harshest environments in the world. So I like to think that because of growing up in these environments Shiro and Kyouya both have some weird but similar values. I’ve always kinda seen them very much as Mother and Son. The Labyrinth was harsher so she has some more insane survival methods and he sort of looks up to it. (Side note: I know some people Ship them and I never want to throw discourse, you’re allowed to ship whatever you want so don’t want to say much, but personally I hate it very much I could go into why but it’s mostly my character reads and taste). Ariel and Shiro give off so many Mom vibes when it comes to Mera, Kyouya, and Sophia to me lol (and yes they would be siblings in that order I don’t remember where but I think the LN said Goblins have shorter pregnancies so Kyouya is slightly older than Sophia lol). Sophia especially with Kyouya reads as the “no one is allowed to bully my Brother but me” vibes and I love it. Her and Kyouya also both definitely look up to Mera as someone who’s well put together.

For the hair of the non-human reincarnations: Shiro’s hair feels like silk. Fei’s hair feels like feathers. And Kyouya’s hair feels like soft animal down. I bet Katia asks to play with Kyouya’s hair and then has a flied day with how soft it is. I also like to think she tries to convince him to let her do his nails lol.

For lifespan: So Shiroai is immortal, I’m assuming Ariel has a long life span close to that (ignoring the end of the novel with Ariel spoilers), and Mera and Sophia are somewhere in the same boat or close to that… How long is Kyouya’s lifespan??? For most angst is he gonna outlive his human friends but die before his demon family???

Goblins are just Hamsters: The Goblins look like they’re based on Hamster so you can not take away from me the Headcanon they’re language is just Hamster noises. I like to think Kyouya teaches it to the others so they can use it as code. (The Demon Army can communicate purely with inhuman noises lol). I like to think Kyouya purrs instead or snores because of this as well. I also like to think because he grew up around the Goblins he just sees them as people and doesn’t get what everyone thinks they look like.

Kyouya’s height: Kyouya was a manlet before reincarnation it's cannon I’m living. Okay and technically speaking he probably is after reincarnation as well. Like they are in a European Fantasy setting and he’s only “considerably taller than he used to be” which was considerably short for a Japanese High Schooler. Also in Ex2 we see him standing next to a Puppet Taratect (which are all short af) yet they come up to his shoulder.

Housewife vibes: I think what Kyouya wants in life is to be a Housewife ngl. Like he was most satisfied working to support people he was close to both in his past life online game and the goblin village. Plus I think though he did that by making weapons he would prefer not to have to fight. What if he makes good knives and just starts cooking for people. Like I don’t have more words right now so this is short but I could go off here.

My OT3 Agenda: Background: I’m just saying Kyouya is really depressed and probably doesn’t have any plans for after the war but I could see Ariel having in him work in the human area with Shun and Katia (probably cause she feels a bit sad about him losing friends) because he’s in their upper ranks and unlike Sophia can actually deal with people. But I feel like Shun and Katia feel bad that they had each other and he had to grow up all alone so they try and reconnect. Shun, because he really clings to the connections he does have and because they were so close in their past lives, desperately wants to rebuild that. Katia because she seems similarly attached to people she considers friends she’s afraid of losing that and probably feels bad for writing Kyoua off as maybe an enemy and not being there for him like she was for Shun. Kyouya is just deeply confused that they still want anything to do with him and feels undeserving but is really happy. Confession: I think Katia knows about her feelings first but doesn’t say anything due to self esteem issues (except some flirting to test the waters). I think Kyouya has a realization ™ and feels unsure of what to do (also self esteem issues). But ends up visibly being a little off which Shun notices and brings up to Katia (she sorta noticed as well) so she confronts him which ends in a mutual confession between the two as they then decide how to tell Shun. Shun meanwhile worried what’s going irks Fei who decides to inform him of his very obvious (to everyone but him) crushes. Now realizing his feelings he’s very awkward about it until Katia and Kyouya confront him and confession ensues. Now realizing they all love each other: OT3 successful.

Taking this outta the tags: Not even kidding answering asks about KumoDesu because I’ve sort of come to be know as a KumoDesu blog is like,,, I’m living my dream right now. I haven’t even posted my Kumoko Cosplay or that much Art yet but people just wanna hear my opinion???? Literally these asks give me so much dopamine feel free to keep them coming.

[vidjausers-fable]

PenPals(Veneer x OC)Chapter 3

Previous chapter

Author’s Note: No fanart this time but if you’re interested in seeing more check me out on Twitter, Tik Tok, and Instagram under Vidjauser! Thank you to my bestie, @tinalbion, for beta reading for me. <3

***

Veneer returned to the library for his rec time the next morning. He wasn’t sure where Velvet had gone for hers, if she even had anymore rec time left. She’d thrown a fit right before bed last night and kept everyone else up until 3 am, even Veneer. Guards didn’t take it kindly when they had tired and grouchy teens to deal with, so she was most likely back in their room.

When he was back in the library, it wasn’t hard to finish the rest of the letter. The blessed silence and the lack of Velvet’s presence helped him focus better, especially when she was always breathing down his neck, wanting to snoop. The hard part was not to overthink what he had written, and to give it to Linda to send out to Avery. The girl on the other side of the letter sounded nice, and seemed to have a unique life outside of this stupid facility. He ached for that kind of life, even if it wasn’t filled with fame or money. He just needed to get out of there. His tactics of actually trying to learn and listen was paying off while his sister was paying the consequences of being the rebel. 

Veneer read over the last part of his letter again. 

I can’t wait to get to know you better…I don’t know much to share about myself. I find myself discovering things I didn’t know about myself from when I was outside. I love fashion, I recently discovered. There’s these cool magazines—a bit outdated—and it’s fun to sketch the designs in them. Of course, I won’t take credit for them. Though I think it would be fun to explore fashion when I’m back out in the world. My counselor says I should consider looking into higher education for it. I’m holding out hope they would let someone like me in despite my track record. Can you tell me a little more about your job?

Until next time, 

Samson

Veneer was anxious about using a pseudonym, but after his and his sister’s scandal in Mount Rageous, he knew that his name would be known. Avery would probably call him names, or treat him like crap, and then reject him. He wanted her to get to know him first before he revealed his true identity. Other than his name, he was going to be 100 percent honest with Avery and luckily she was being respectful of how he felt about his lock-up. 

Everything in his letter was spelled correctly, and his writing was legible. Alright, he was ready to send it. He stood and turned to the guard who was posted at the front of the library. “I just finished my letter, can I leave my rec time early to drop it off to my counselor?” he asked.

The guard nodded his head, “Yes, but you will have to wait for someone to come here to guide you.” He took his walkie talkie, saying a code that Veneer didn’t understand. “Got an inmate here that needs transportation. Over.”

Inmate, Veneer hated that word. He liked how Linda called him a patient instead. 

The two of them waited until another guard was there. Veneer was guided to his counselor. Her door was closed at the moment, so it meant that she had another patient with her, so, he sat down patiently in the lobby chairs while the guard stood toward the door, his expression blank. Veneer had the time to wait, and he was feeling anxious about it, so he took out the letter and read it one last time as he waited for the door to open. 

It was twenty minutes before the door opened and one of the other patients he didn’t recognize left. Linda poked her head out after and smiled at Veneer. 

“Well howdy! You can’t seem to stay away, can you, Veneer? What can I do for you this morning?” she asked cheerily. She waved her hand at him, “Come on in.”

Veneer stood outside her door and held up the letter. “I…I finished the letter. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to take it to you or the mailroom.” He extended the letter out to the woman. “It’s ready to be sent out.”

Linda smiled softly and put her hand on the letter, pushing it more toward him. “Take it to the mailroom, sweetie. They’ll double check that the letter is appropriate to send, okay? Tell them that it’s for your pen pal and then your name. The address will be in their system, so they’ll handle everything else for you. Is there anything else you need before you head over there? I bet your pen pal is going to be excited about your letter.”

Veneer shook his head. “No! I think I’m okay. Thank you.” He smiled. “Yeah, I hope she’ll like it.” He turned toward the guard, who would then take him to the mailroom, which was close to the cafeteria; the smell of food was making him hungry for lunch. After he approached the counter, he had to wait a moment before the mail attendant came up to the little window. He was tall, pale from working inside all day, and dark haired. He was intimidating to Veneer so the male chewed his bottom lip nervously. He had never met any of the mailroom attendants personally. 

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly. 

“I have a letter to my pen pal attendant. My name is Veneer.” He handed the unsealed envelope. It was snatched out of his hands, so he took his hands back and tucked them behind his back. He then just stood there awkwardly for moment as the attendant held his letter in a way that didn’t make Veneer happy.

The mail attendant just glared. “What else do you want?”

Veneer froze momentarily. C’mon, no one was really as scary as his sister, so why was this guy making him feel so small?

Clearing his throat, he answered, “Is there…Possible incoming mail from my parents? I haven’t been told, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to double check…If that’s okay.”

The mail attendant rolled his eyes and looked at the computer, his hands going to the keyboard before typing away fast. Veneer wasn’t sure how long he had been working that day, but he already looked like he was tired and wanted to go home and it was still the morning. “Name?” he grunted. 

Veneer answered with a gulp, “Veneer, sir.”

The attendant’s hands typed fast before he answered quite abruptly, “No.” He turned his back to him and returned to his work of sorting mail in the back, leaving Veneer’s heart to pound in his chest. Yeah, Linda was much nicer than whoever that man was. People who acted crappy for no reason were the reason he had some…anxieties.

A sense of disappointment swelled in Veneer’s chest as he stepped away from the counter, turning to the guard. He didn’t notice that his feet began to walk on their own, following the guard back to his cell since rec time was over. His mind was lost in thought about his parents. The moment he made his confession on live TV, there had been no turning back. Surely they had watched the whole thing and knew the truth. After that, they made one public statement that they would pay everyone back and never contact their kids again. Sure enough, that was what happened. Veneer had sent a couple letters, but who knew if they lived where they used to. Veneer never received a letter back from them. He never even got a phone call.

One of the vital steps in getting out of the Correctional Facility was to have a home already set up to move into when released. The facility refused to send anyone out to an improper home, or worse—the streets. Where would Veneer go if his parents had fully disowned him? He would have to learn to live on his own, especially since he knew that he would get out before his sister. He didn’t even know how to function by himself, let alone learn how to rent somewhere and be independent. He would ask Linda if there was a program he could attend to help that transition. 

Not long after, Veneer was back in his cell, sitting at his desk. Velvet wasn’t there, so he wondered where she had gone since she had still been there when he left that morning. He turned to the guard before he could wander too far from him, “Hey, where did my sister go?” he asked. 

“I dunno,” the guard replied, “Let me check.” He tilted his head away and pressed his walkie talkie, “Just wanted to double check the location of patient Velvet. She’s not in her cell. Over.” There was static for a moment before his expression changed entirely, worrying Veneer when he saw his eyes widen in surprise. “She what? Okay. Yes, I understand. Over.” He lowered his hand. 

Veneer now stood at the cell, his hands on the bars. “What happened to my sister?” he asked anxiously. The guard answered with a disappointed sigh, “She attempted to escape again, bud. She was on her way to a mandatory meeting with her counselor before shoving a guard and making a run for it. She only got far enough because when she pushed the guard, he hit his head on a metal pipe on the way down. Apparently he bled a little and he fell into unconsciousness. Luckily, he’s not dead.”

At the mention of blood, Veneer somehow paled. “She did…? Where’s she at right now? Is she going to be back?”

“She’s screaming and throwing a fit in a holding cell. Looks like you might have a day or two to yourself while she calms down and has therapy from within her cell.” He shrugged, “I dunno how that stuff all works anyway. You don’t want to worry about it, though I'll have to keep an extra eye on you a bit harder for now. Just a part of protocall.”

“That makes sense, but it’s not like I’m going to do anything. Man…I hope she’s not in too much trouble…” Veneer said the last part aloud but mostly to himself, allowing himself to step away from the bars. 

“I can’t disclose that information…but let’s just say she’s not going to be back for a few days.”

Veneer nodded. He returned to his desk and looked at Avery's first letter, admiring her handwriting. He realized that he wanted to write back to her already, as if the conversation they shared on paper would help him cope with what was going on right now, but it would be worthless considering he already sent a letter that day.

Veneer chose not to and took out one of the magazines he was allowed to bring back to his room, and read to calm himself down.

Why couldn’t his sister just behave?

***

After another long shift, there was nothing more that Avery wanted to do than stick her feet into a bucket of warm water with her Guinea pigs in her arms, and her favorite sitcom on the television. Her feet ached as she walked into the lobby of the apartments around ten at night. There had been plenty of workers to close that night, so she was sent home early since she came in early. The lights were dimmed and the volume of the TV in the community space was lowered to a single digit. There wasn’t a soul in sight. It was oddly peaceful. 

Avery took her key ring to the lobby, heading toward the mail room. The mail hadn’t been there before she left for work, which was common. Getting her mail, she gasped in excitement after she sorted through the mail. There was a letter from the correctional facility. Which meant she got her first letter from her pen pal!

“Oh my god! He wrote me back!” she gasped.

With a sudden burst of energy, Avery raced to the elevator, which took her to the third floor. She tried not to stomp around, as to not wake anyone up. She made it to her room without trouble and set all her stuff down on the ground next to the couch, sitting on the right side. She threw the other mail and bills to the end table and stared at the mail she wanted to read the most. 

Using as much self control as she could, she opened the envelope without tearing the inner letter. She was surprised the deeper she read into the letter. Samson…What a sweet name, she thought to herself, wondering what he looked like.

Somehow, the world felt less lonely just by reading this letter. She felt as though this pen pal program would be helping her as well. Maybe she would start to feel better about herself and everything going on.

Avery finished the letter and couldn’t stop smiling. It didn’t matter that her body was aching from work, or that her feet were sore from the skates. She was happy at that moment, learning more about Samson. She wanted to write another letter back immediately, and wanted to send it tomorrow. It already felt as though she could get used to this addictive feeling of positive attention from her new friend. She wanted to get to know Samson more. Maybe if they continued to hit it off, she could call or visit him. 

“Don’t think too far ahead…Don’t start making up silly little stories in your head.” She carefully folded the letter back up and slipped it back into the envelope, setting it aside. She still had to shower and get ready for bed before she got too sleepy. The letter would have to wait until tomorrow, even if she didn’t want to.

There were harmonious squeaking from across the room. Avery giggled and stood, going to her attention seeking little pets. “Yes, I know, I know. You want out, but it’s close to bedtime and I would have to put you back in less than a half hour. I’ll let you out tomorrow morning, and then you’ll be able to roam for hours!” She picked her two pets up and kissed their heads each and then put them back down. After that, she showered and went to bed. 

Tomorrow she had the night off for once, so it was a chore and errand day. Many thoughts ran through her head—what she had to do tomorrow, and what she wanted to write to Samson—but soon she fell asleep to the sound of rain playing through her phone.

Avery awoke to loud squeaking from the living room, and groaned. Great, the one day she didn’t have to set an alarm clock, and her pets woke her up. She sat up, sore from the night before, and slipped out of bed, sliding her feet into her house slippers so her feet were warm. “I’m commmmmmming,” she said to her pets, yawning at the end of the word. “You two are complete brats.”

Two blobs of fur were squished in the corner that was closer to her bedroom door. Seeing it made Avery giggle sleepily. “Alright, I’m not longer mad that you guys woke me up.” She took the Guinea Pig snacks that were set on the end table near their cage, where all their food and other supplies were located. She picked both up and sat on the floor, laying them in her lap. “Good morning to you two as well,” she chuckled, picking hay out of their fur as they ate the snacks. She had these two for a whole year, and they were her best friends. 

Smiling, she took a picture of them in her lap with her phone. “I’ll get these printed and send them to Samson. He might like you guys.” 

Avery set them back on the ground and took their food and water, throwing it out and replacing it with fresh food and water. They circled her ankles until she placed the bowls outside of their cage, letting them free roam while she did other things around the apartment. She was usually a clean person, so her chores didn’t take too long. What took the longest was the laundry, which luckily her unit had its own washer and dryer for everyone.

When all she had to do was laundry, Avery sat down with Samson’s letter and smiled as she read over it again, trying to plan what she wanted to write back. He deserved a long heartfelt letter, rather than a quick and lazy response. He liked fashion? That was an interesting take. That wasn’t something she would ever imagine from a male in a correctional facility. She wanted to ask him what his favorite sort of fashion was, and while she wasn’t too into the details of clothes, she did like browsing them. She made sure to take note of these questions on paper that she usually did her grocery list on. Which, by the way, she needed to get done before she threw anything in the washer. 

Avery held both papers in her hands and looked back and forth between the two. Well…there were a few things that she could get for a male. Was it too early to be sending gifts to him? Nah, she didn’t think so. After adding sketchbook, and fashion magazines down, she decided to go shopping for the male, wanting to make sure her next letter contained a present for him. 

A week had passed since Veneer had sent his letter, and since his sister had been placed into solitary confinement. Apparently the guard she had shoved needed a few stitches, so she was in extra trouble for getting the guard injured while on the job. He didn’t feel guilty for his sister however, it meant that he had a few days to himself before she could return. He knew the process—she’d been through it a couple of times now. She had to be evaluated for her mental stability and whether he would be a threat to herself or others. Though it had never taken this long before, and it surprised him. 

Veneer groaned as he flipped through his magazine for the fifth time. It was a few editions old, and it seemed that the Library was taking a sweet time filling his request for getting the latest editions for him to read. For now he was stuck rereading these ones, and by now he had every page memorized.

Veneer abruptly stopped when he came across a page with two familiar icons. Him and Velvet when they were popstars. When they were frauds. He didn’t like the memories that filled his head.

“Dammit…” He grumbled and flipped the pages closed, slamming his hand down on top of the cover. He was bored, and without much to do. He leaned on his elbow, his fingers tapping against his face. Could he request some TV time in the rec room? No, he couldn’t take advantage of his position as a model patient.

A guard approached his cell from the corner of his eyes, catching his attention. He looked for his sister everywhere around the guard and listened for her screaming, but there was nothing. The guard whispered something to the one stationed outside his cell, then left. Veneer stood as if he already knew that the guard wished to talk to him. 

Sure enough, he was right. The guard walked right up to the cell with something in his hands. It was a medium sized box. “Veneer, you have a package from the mailroom. Here you go.” Since Velvet wasn’t there, he was free to open the cell door and hand over the box to Veneer. 

Veneer frowned at first. A package? Who on earth would send him a package? He quickly shrugged off that expression and nodded, “Strange…? I don’t know who would even want to send me this. But thank you for bringing it to me. Did it just now come in?”

“It came in this morning, like all the other mail. Then the packages get checked for contraband, you know?” 

“Ah, yes…I forgot. I’m not exactly used to being sent mail you know,” Veneer sounded a little sassy, but honest. The guard didn’t seem to mind anyway and returned to his post, taking his rounds up and down the hallway now and then. 

Veneer slightly shook the box. It didn’t feel too heavy, but he was still curious about what was inside. His first thought was his parents—had they sent him something? No, he felt as though they wouldn’t, not without talking to him first. He sat down at his desk and opened the box, and gasped when he saw what was inside. There were magazines in plastic sleeves! The Library must have fulfilled his request for the new magazines he wanted! 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He gasped, taking the magazines out without checking the rest of the box. Though there was something strange...Why would the Library send the request directly to him? He looked over to the guard’s post, wanting to ask him something, but the guard was not there. 

“Strange…But wouldn’t this go to the Library if I requested it there…?” he asked himself, and just in case, he made sure to take them carefully out of the plastic, afraid that the Library would be upset with him if he somehow destroyed the magazines before they even got them. He grabbed the box and picked it up to place on the ground, but it was still heavy. He pushed around the tissue paper inside when his eyes widened. 

There was more in the box. There was a whole sketchbook! When he delicately picked it up, he saw a letter down at the bottom of the box and a little note next to it that read: I hope I’m not rushing this forward, but I hope you like the gift. I think it’s unique that you like fashion and art. You don’t have to force yourself, but I would love to see anything you sketch! Love, Avery.

Veneer slowly cupped a hand over his mouth, feeling tears in his eyes. A gift? For him? He carefully peeled open the letter, which had photos of two cute furry creatures. 

Dear Samson, 

Yes, I know, it’s a bit too early to be sending a gift to you, but I just had to get these for you when I was grocery shopping. I think it’s amazing that you have a passion, and I want to help you be able to pursue it, even through these small gifts. So hopefully you can sketch me a new outfit or a better uniform for my work! I would draw it for you if I could, but my drawings are more like chicken scratch, but I’ll maybe send a picture so you can do it!

Veneer smiled at a badly drawn pizza with fat pepperonis and mushrooms to the side. 

These are pictures of my two piggies. Jams is my brown one, and Garry is the one with the multicolored patches. I’ve had them for about a year, but they’re my whole world. At the end of a long work day, I lay down and cuddle them for hours. I hope you think they’re cute!

Veneer smiled as he read the rest of the letter, keeping it to himself. 

[shanicodes]

Okay let's talk about all of the asks about Juliet and me "ripping each other's skins off". 

[Please note that this is not going to be a post defending Juliet's behavior in the RPC, and I am not excusing any of it either]

I personally have not heard from Juliet since June 2022, and before that, after a rough breakup, I had withdrawn myself from the RPC to focus on my offline life, so we hadn't talked much for about six months before that. While we haven't talked in forever, and as far as I am aware, she is no longer a part of the community, I did want to come on here and clear the air about some messages sent to Tattler about us.

Like most of us in the 'old guard' from back in the Invisionfree days, Juliet and I have known each other for 15+, since way back when she was a mod on a site called Fluorescent Adolescents, going by Kalina (IIRC? She's had a bunch of aliases). While we joined each other's sites over literally a decade and a half, even at the height of our friendship, we were never writing partners due to very different writing styles and rp preferences. The two of us became friends, primarily through her Jcink Skinathon and the JCC, because of a shared preference for certain design aesthetics. Specifically, we both made extremely similar designs from the same inspiration pic and then messaged each other to laugh about it. 

We talked regularly and frequently about coding and design, shared our WIPs, discussed the current trends we loved/hated, helped fix bugs, shared inspiration, discussed how our skin shops were doing, etc. The two of us liked similar things, from fonts to color schemes to structures. While Juliet tended to stick to a specific aesthetic, for my skins, especially the ones for sale, I DO try to play around with different aesthetics to appeal to different sides of the ~market. BUT with how frequently we talked and shared our designs, some aesthetics began to cross over. Juliet used many of my codes/scripts on her sites and vice versa. There was a clear and mutual influence on each other's codes and designs.  I could go through our old messages and find dozens of examples of one of us going "Hey I like this, I'm doing something similar" or "This was very much inspired by that thing you posted". 

Similarities happen when you are friends with someone and share a preference for the same aesthetics. Neither of us 'ripped off' the other—and if we did, I promise you that the other was fully aware and permission was given. While I appreciate the sentiment, the comments and asks sent to Tattler defending my honor aren't necessary. If anyone else has concerns about this, feel free to contact me directly. 

[lutawolf]

Love In the Air Ep 3 Review & Running Commentary

I'm so excited, I just can't hide it! No seriously. My freak flag is waving and I'm here to review for the vanillas that want to be informed and my fellow kinksters. FOR the love of all that is unholy, understand that this show is for us kinksters. There will be kinks you don't like, do not hate watch and therefor hate on us kinksters, just because you don't have that kink. Would you judge someone for who they chose to love based on gender or race? Then why are you hating on something that doesn't affect you? If you have questions about the kinks please read my previous reviews, here.

Now sadly for a mother fucking disclaimer. If you want to use my reviews on other social media platforms, go right ahead. All I ask is that you give me credit. I see you TikTok people who keep stealing my shit. If I see this review anywhere on TikTok without my name, you will get blasted on there and on here and there we be more than me doing it. You can't delete all our comments.

I am not pre-watching the episode. You are getting me live with all my insanity. You've been warned! So, we start off with the two sexy men, that my in my thirties ass shouldn't thirst after buttttttt hot damn. I really can't wait to see Prapai and Sky's scene but for now he is showing up the morning after to thank Payu. You guys, Payu thirsting for Rain is gonna be my Kryptonite. "I'm still waiting Rain"

I Like Rain And I'm Not Talking About The Weather

I love an organized baby gay sub. Where can I get one?! He has a color coded calendar. This really shouldn't be so cute. Look at him being traumatized by the lack of time. Welcome to adult life. Again with friends like Sky, who needs enemies. No seriously I adore their friendship because the support is still there, he's just real with him. Rain is crazy! We here for it though and yes Sky, how ARE you? Inquiring minds want to know.

Rain tells Sky about how he needs to catch a guy in thirty days. See the support. It only took a short "guy" moment. Now note that Sky asks "You've moved on from Ple to this guy" and Rain doesn't answer. This is all the answer he needs before dishing out the advice. Because who better to ask than your gay bestie. The advice: Show Up In Front Of Him Every Day. Got to admit it's good advice. There are some "are you sure this will work" but Sky assures him that he needs to get past this step first. Because fortune favors the bold. I can't wait to see how Sky still feels about this plan when Prapai implements it.

Your honor, I love this white crayon. I can see why Payu likes him. Oh no he isn't there and another. Day two and Payu is still not around. Poor disheartened Rain. Three day four. What are you up to Payu?

Sky reminds me of @victooooorious a complete asshole best friend but there every single time you need their ass. Okay back to the show. So, Rain is obviously upset about not seeing Payu which might be Payu's plan, make him miss him. Keeping it real Sky tells him that's why he said get through step 1 before doing any other steps. I am fucking loving the knowing look that Sky side eyes. Payu sent a text saying there is an easier way to see me, think carefully. Cryptic much. I would totally do something like this and yet I'm annoyed to see it done. Hey but Rain figures it out and races out of the classroom. That eye roll from Sky was a mood. Now he is reminding me of @curiositykilledd.

Oh, it's Mr. Low Friction who gives me the shivers and not in a good way. Okay so Rain had nothing figured out, but he knows who to ask. You're growing on me Matchmaker Mechanic. Telling Rain to learn how to dial 1-800-love-connection. Clue number 2 is that some people have a soft spot for polite kids. Payu is giving a reminder. We can say a lot about him, but he recognizes that Rain is a baby sub and needs extra guidance. Now Overly Invested Engineer has to get back to work.

Ahhh, so Rain calls and while he isn't rude. He isn't polite enough. This is Payu setting and establishing guidelines. Once Rain shows proper respect, Payu talks back. He gives a command "Finally. Wait there, I'll go to you." I think your overconfident a little early Rain.

Got to give credit to Rain because he is waiting. His little brother doesn't get it. "Nobody would wait a whole day like this but me." It would damn sure take a submissive to do it but though Rain is a baby sub he is starting to get it. Ohh, little bro can dish some info. Damnit! I don't know if I can forgive you for this. Telling Rain that he isn't special to your brother! You just broke his heart telling him that shit. "My brother is far from simple; you'll get burned if you don't know how to play with fire." You just made Rain put his walls back up. What's there to worry about, I don't even like him. Dude, he was getting there, and you just had to be an ass. Apparently, it runs in the family. You basically told Rain he wasn't special. Just because you told your brother to be kind doesn't mean I like you.

At this point we need to notch Payu up from a brat tamer Dom to a Sadist one as well. Sadism isn't all about physical pain it's also emotional discomfort as well. Now he has a reason behind what he is doing besides just the emotional discomfort but that doesn't mean he won't enjoy it as well. Payu is upset at not being greeted but Rain is in his feels right now, so he speaks rudely. Payu instantly reprimands him. He's stupid if he doesn't realize something is going on. A good Dom can read their submissive, maybe not know what's going on but for sure tell when things are amiss. Rain apologizes for his vulgarity but then tells Payu he is going home. Payu grabs him and asks what's wrong. Rain lies and says that Payu looks tired, so he better be going. Payu is smarttttt, he has figured out the way to Rain is with teasing. "You're happy with seeing me only a few minutes after waiting hours. You are pretty crazy about me." And there is what Payu wanted to know, "I am different from other people." "Jealous?" "You are crazy I'm not!" "Are you sure?" "Sure!" Let's see how Payu handles this because his sub is hurting and not in the way we like. He takes Rain's hands and tells him if he doesn't want him to be with anyone else, then make him fall in love, so that he only sees him. Smooth.

Ah, not smooth enough. Rain says he is leaving. Good. Payu grabs him and Rain tells him to let go but he doesn't. "I'm hungry, come eat with me. I might fall for you faster." Aww, look at that smile on Rain's face. He didn't really want to go but he was showing HIS limits. He is saying, I will wait two hours for you but make it worth it. Don't only scold me, I need positive reinforcement as well. Show me I'm special.

Out the door they go with Payu holding Rain's hand. They get to where they are going to eat and Payu is immediately watching Rain. Okay, did you guys catch that whole dominance shift? See once Rain sat down, he immediately started looking to get an order sheet. This is a dominant move, granted it's not huge but kind of is when you're still working the kinks out. Haha, see what I did there. Thank you, I'm here every Thursday. Anyways, Payu very smoothly took over the menu sheet and won that little battle.

Easy banter back and forth. Payu flags down the waiter. Rain notices he didn't order and Payu calls him stupid once again. Rain said eyes and complains about the use of stupid. I'm not particularly a fan of someone ignoring someone else's guidelines. Let's see if Payu can change Rain's mind though. The TEASING! It's gonna kill me and Rain. Payu says "I'm curious Rain, how are you going to make me fall for you. I don't see how you can do it." "Keep your voice down, People will hear you." Is this gay panic? or something else. Need more context clues. "Come again." "Keep your voice down." "You're afraid of other people's opinions?" See, see how Payu teases Rain into revealing his feelings or pushing him where he wants to go. "It's not too late to back out." "You speak as though I'm gutless." "It's clear you are." Rain grabs the waiter's arm "Mister, I'm hitting on this guy. Please give me your support."

"Do Your Best!" I like the waiter. Also, the clapping crowd. "Shit" Payu loved it though. Look at his face, he ate it up. "Do your best stupid boy." "Quit it! It's all because of you!" Your gonna make his head swell Rain. Payu asked Rain if he is shy, but Rain assures him he isn't. Cute banter back and forth. Here we go. This is addressed as an ask but it is a command. "I wanna eat the eggs. Will someone pick them up for me?" This is actually my preferred method of commanding outside of sex or pain. "I'm thirsty, can someone get me a drink?' Rain tells him he has hands. Totally a brat moves but Payu isn't mad cause he knows Rain is shy. Instead, he taps his forehead gently in reprimand. Then shows Rain how it's done by feeding him. He is really a very good Dom. I'm really enjoying the representation here. He feeds him more and then cleans his face. Now we are seeing an annoyed Rain and an amused Payu.

Ha!!! Payu chasing after Rain. "Please don't be mad. I said I'm sorry." "I'm still mad." "You made me angry and shout on purpose. And you even laughed at me!" "Affectionate laughter and mocking laughter are two different things." Rain isn't buying it and goes to leave but Payu grabs onto him. "Talk to me." "What else do you want?" Ahh, more guidelines but good ones. "Next time call me before coming. You are already busy. I don't want you to waste your time waiting for me." Then compromise because at this point he realizes he has to give, or Rain will walk. Subs aren't doormats, you've got to balance their needs with yours. Power imbalance yes but they are still our treasures. "I'll text you when I go to the garage." Then he gently picks whatever the fuck he can see but I can't off Rain's face. "You're starting to fall for me, aren't you?" "No. It's fun to have you around, that's all." "You're teasing me again!" smack. Depends on your relationship guidelines on whether this is acceptable or not. Payu just laughs and goes on to continue the previous conversation on Rain learning to balance his time. Praising himself for being a good senior. "Do you get it stupid boy?" "Calling me stupid again." "Then how about a reward for the boy who persevered." "Try replacing my stupid with cute." Okay, truth talk. For the sake of the show, I can see the cuteness in this but it's completely unacceptable in the real world. You do not, I repeat, do not push someone to accept a degradation kink. If it's your kink, then figure out a way to talk it through until your D/s partner understands or find another partner.

Oh, we are having another existential moment. Please do not engage program is still loading. However, Payu is willing to leave him here. "That's cheating, P' Payu. You're a cheat!" pst. How is that cheating exactly? Cause your realizing your falling and that's not fair?

Rain, dude, get your shit together. Oh look, Payu is keeping his promise and letting Rain know when he'll be at the garage. Rain texts back that he basically doesn't care and that he is gonna bring Gear Grinder Guy some snacks. Brats are live wires, be prepared to get shocked. It's half the fun though, the challenge. Payu immediately texts Mr. Lube that if he doesn't want a pay cut that he better leave whatever he gets at the office.

Responsible Sky, reminding Rain about his homework and the deadline. Still Rain races out, pushing Ple aside. Our clueless baby sub gay is so cute. Even if he rushes off to the garage he is working on his homework. To which Payu gives him a complement. "I may flunk lecture classes, but I'm confident with this one." "Where are my snacks?" "Why would I give them to you, they are for P'A because he took care of my care." Payu starts listing off all the things he did to the car until Rain can't help but give up the snacks. Payu grabs Rains hand as he is taking the snack, Rain snatches his hand back, but he is smiling to which Payu notices. Payu out right calling him cute! Ahh. Okay, Okay, Gear Grinder is growing on me.

Ohhh no! Payu asks when the deadline is, and Rain asks why. Once he starts talking about buying Rain dinner, it's not looking good. Payu tells him it's fine if he doesn't want to, he can eat by himself and starts to walk off. Rain quickly grabs his arm. And I knew it.

Here is another command. "I'll wait by the bike. Pack your things quickly and follow me, okay?" Ahh that head rub! I'm melting. Like I'm a puddle right now. All the feels. Okay, I got it together, lets continue. Ha! Payu grabbing Mr. Lubes snacks. How rude. Looks like Rain finishes his homework but then he is taking a nap. Even in your dreams you get shit, lol. Mom wakes the kid up thanks to Sky, but he still doesn't make it in time. Professor is harsh but right. If everyone else can meet the deadline, why should he be the exception. Sometimes you have to learn your lessons the hard way. I was siding with you dude but now you're being a dick. There is nothing wrong with crying, it's an expression of sadness and frustration.

These are friends. Sticking around to give support. Ple puts her hand on offers Rain a listening ear, but Rain removes her hand. Which surprises Sky. He tells them that he is tired from pulling an all nighter. Then shows up at the garage to stand in the rain. Baby brother goes to grab him out of the rain and then calls his brother to tell him what happened. Payu knows something is wrong because Rain now knows to wait for him to text. He packs his shit and leaves. When a sub needs support than they need support. See they might give us control but that doesn't mean they don't get anything out of it. We are the pillar, and we know it. I will absolutely drop what I'm doing to answer my sub's call. If their calling while I'm at work, it's not for a bullshit reason.

Rain is sad and distraught and Payu knows it. He races through the rain to get to him. This is exactly how you do it. He even races to the door! Fuck yes! Ahhhhh, omg, no comments, just open arms. This is what I'm here for. Universal truth of a Dom, whether it's hitting a head space and coming down or an emotional come down, touch centers. Touch grounds and touch reconnects. It says, you are never alone. You will never handle this alone. Rain has never had this and doesn't know how to respond so Payu commands in a soft voice "Come Here." See! See! "It's okay, I'm here now." "I screwed up." "It's okay, good boy." No degrading, just unconditional support. Listen to that soft voice he is using. Rain tells him that he doesn't know what to do anymore. Payu tells him he is here for him to talk to, and he does not get pushed away like Ple did.

While in the bathroom Rain talks to himself in front of a mirror. This is actually a good trick to use when you're having a hard time being honest with yourself. He asks himself why he rejected his friend's support but cried in front of Payu. He tells himself to stop crying but admits it was nice to have Payu's support.

When he leaves the bathroom he rushes to stop Payu from looking at his work. Now comes the kick in the ass. Payu tells him the teacher was right and Rain agrees. Payu tells hime that this is the first test before he steps into the real world. That it will protect him and give him strength in the future. For some missing a deadline is no big deal but for others, it means responsibility. He offers more comfort and support that critisism.

Oh, Good Dom. You are starting to realize that your little man needs a little more tlc than most. He goes to him and hugs him to him. "What's done is done, don't dwell on it. Focus on your next works, got it, naughty boy?" Rain nods up at Payu. "Dry your hair properly. Don't get sick. I don't want to take care of you." but he is smiling as he says it. "I thought you wouldn't comfort me!"

So now we know that the wolf planned to eat the lamb all along.

Woot! We've come to the end of this episode. Once again... This is long but fuck it. By this time if you're still reading my reviews then you signed up for it. Shout out to @suga4mycoffee for the very humorous nick names. When I couldn't think of anything past Mr. Lube she delivered. If you guys would like me to stop all the commentary and just talk about the BDSM aspect, let me know. Then to top this off, this review is dedicated to @ellaspore and @dayummmdorisss for the undying support. Hope you guys enjoy! 💜💜💜 Please feel free to reblog but do not repost without my name attached. I could honestly give a fuck less about borrowing some of my words but incorrectly using them and falsely portraying yourself as part of the community makes you shit in my book.

[ryuuaka713]

Bungou Stray Dogs Dead Apple: “You used corruption, believing in me? How Beautiful.” A “DISSECTION” OF THE SCENE

I mentioned before in one of the posts by @nataliaphantomhivesblog​, where we were discussing about the corruption scenes in BSD, that the scene in Dead Apple is my favorite. So, I decided (like any SKK trash) to make an “analysis” of that scene, just to make a point why I like it the most compared to the other corruption scenes (as if this post is the definition of being productive like I’ll just wasting my time rambling here LOL)

I divided this post into two parts. Part 1 is the more difficult one where I am attempting to write some “character analysis”. While Part 2 is more about how the scene is composed (it’s pretty boring. I’m sorry)

I will NOT include the infamous Lap scene (I know. I know. We all love that moment. But I would rather focus on the scenes before that).

Side note: I do not specialize in film or literary critique, so really this whole post is just for fun. Thus, why I put quotes on the analysis. Take this is as my personal opinion where I’m attempting to make sense by making it sound “fancy”.

But anyway. Here it goes:

In every Corruption scene, the thematic notion is always Trust—as in Chuuya trusts Dazai well enough to use his ability so long as he is present to nullify it. It is a very life-threatening process, especially for Chuuya since Corruption, despite being one of the most powerful abilities, can cause self-destruction the longer he uses it. So, Dazai should keep a close watch on him at all times, and then even giving him a sense of comfort to compensate to Chuuya’s worn-out body and for his efforts. This is the same trajectory in all 5 episodes of Corruption, but out of all of them, what stood out the most (for me) is the scene from Dead Apple. 

This scene has amazed me ever since I first watched the movie. And while it just shows their infinite trust, the whole execution of this scene evokes more than just that thematic concept. What I see in this scene is something that all of us have already witnessed, but there is something unique in the way Dazai nullifies Chuuya’s corruption, and their dialogue may be just them bantering and yet, their tonality is different. It is as if, we just touched a moment that is reserved only for these two and we just happened to have the privilege to witness it. In other words, there is a sort of familiarity (or intimacy) and gentleness going on at this very moment—it is cathartic. This is what I want to look into—like how did we come to this?

PART 1: His Proper Partner.

In the Japanese version, ever since the episode where Chuuya made his first debut, they call themselves “aibou” (相棒), referring to a one-on-one partnership. While “nakama” (仲間)can also refer to a partner, it has a different connotation in which the closest English equivalent of that term would be “comrade” or “acquaintance”. The closest English equivalent of “aibou” is, to no one’s surprise, “partner” (or “pal”). And it makes sense, considering that the first kanji (相) can mean “mutual”, “together”, or “each other”. So, to have Dazai and Chuuya referring to themselves as that, it just manifests their familiarity on each other.

And in their case, their “familiarity” is both their advantage and disadvantage. It is a “disadvantage” because they use it to get on each other’s nerves (both in comedic and serious situations).

However, it also serves to their advantage, especially when they have to cooperate in the battlefield. This comes into light in the Lovecraft Episode where they executed Operation Shame and Toad—Chuuya acknowledges Dazai’s tactical mentality, whereas Dazai (as he referenced Chuuya’s mastery in martial arts) let’s his partner do the grunt work. Interesting enough, this is the same episode we first see Chuuya’s Corruption (but not the first time he uses it).

Using Corruption stipulates that “familiarity”, especially in Dazai’s part who has to be present to monitor Chuuya’s physical state, therefore he is aware, not just the consequence in using Corruption, but also of Chuuya’s limit. This explains why Dazai declares that he is aware of Chuuya’s moves and “breathing pattern”, otherwise, as what he himself says, he “won’t be a proper partner”.

What is witnessed in the Lovecraft Episode is the standard protocol that Soukoku uses when they are at their last resort. So, it is not a surprise that we get to witness Chuuya using Corruption, again, when he saves Dazai in Dead Apple, except it is done differently.

Even though Dazai is ten steps ahead of the enemy, the situation is still risky and even more complicated in Chuuya’s part since he is using his ability WITHOUT Dazai present. And that he has to save Dazai first before he can get it nullified. With that being said, it requires a careful approach, one in which they know the other’s moves—Dazai knows too well how Chuuya would react. For instance, the manga version of Dead Apple demonstrates how Soukoku communicates in their operation using “codes”. As such when Dazai got himself kidnapped, no one knew about his whereabouts until Hirotsu mentions about Dazai buying a microscope (to which it leads them to a dead end). However, Chuuya—upon remembering that Dazai teases that he needs a microscope in order to see him—demands to see that microscope, breaks it, and finds the transmitter. It is a well-planned strategy in Dazai’s part where all it takes is to leave helpful clues for Chuuya to pick up and catalyze the operation. In the Dead Apple movie, he does it again:

Indeed, for the audience, it is not new to see Dazai planning ahead and having ulterior motives behind his actions. It is not new to see Chuuya executing his plans and understands his motives either. But seeing these two working together despite those four years of absence, and without physically communicating is beyond human comprehension. Almost like the microscope scene, Dazai is not there to directly tell him about his plan. Chuuya doesn’t know about the antidote until that punch as his only “clue” is that Dazai is working alone, so he sees that something is amiss.

Seeing the critical state of Yokohama, Chuuya knows that he will use Corruption, but seeing Dazai’s corpse, it gives this uncertainty on whether they can make it out alive or not. And yet, what did Chuuya do? He jumped off the plane and activates his ability, knowing that there is “no time to chicken out” or else Dazai’s plan won’t work, and they’ll end up dead. Even if it means doing the job to protect the city, it still takes guts for Chuuya to work and place his life on someone he “hates”. Despite those 4 years of absence, the scene in Dead Apple just manifests that they never doubt each other’s capabilities. And to further validate this, let’s check out their dialogue:

           Dazai: You used Corruption, believing in me? How beautiful.

           Chuuya: Yeah I did. I believe in your disgusting vitality and craftiness.

           Dazai: That was a somewhat violent way to wake up Snow White.

           Chuuya: Tch. You’re the one who hid an antidote your mouth knowing I would punch you.          

Not only does this scene perfectly parallels to the Lovecraft episode where we see Soukoku bantering while still in a critical situation, it also emphasizes the degree of their trust and how that trust has taken root from their familiarity.

Dazai: You used Corruption, believing in me? How beautiful.

Chuuya: Yeah I did. I believe in your disgusting vitality and craftiness.

Dazai’s first line is the main idea of their partnership, echoing Chuuya’s quote from the Lovecraft episode: “I used Corruption because I trust you”. This is a vital aspect in their relationship since it has been stated before in Fifteen and Stormbringer that “no one has trusted Dazai”… until Chuuya comes into the picture. Ever since their first teamwork against Rimbaud, Dazai finally has someone he can rely on both in strength and assurance, even smiling at the fact that Chuuya doesn’t even deny his proposal but merely asks for his reason.

With that being said, then it is appropriate for Dazai to say that line, touched by the idea that Chuuya still constantly trusts him. It just reminisced so much from what they have as children that it seems to this day, they never forgotten about it.

On the other hand, in Chuuya’s end, he confirms that trust and provides a reason, which is appropriate since Chuuya is Dazai’s “reason-living” like in Fifteen:

Chuuya’s line—“I believe in your disgusting vitality and craftiness”—is very similar in the excerpt from Fifteen, and this just shows how that line from the movie indicates his familiarity to Dazai. By “familiarity”, I mean that he knows his partner’s mental process and motives (as I have mentioned above). In this case, it seems like Chuuya has seen something that he and Dazai have in common: the desire to live. Of course, the latter always craves for death, but with his new viewpoint on Death, his mission in fulfilling Oda’s wish, and the fact that he is tethered to someone who wished to live, Dazai just couldn’t die. And Chuuya, being his constant companion, knows this. This is why Chuuya “believes” that whatever plan Dazai has on mind, it will always work, and in the scenario in Dead Apple it starts by taking a leap into Corruption—which is ironically, the very thing that could kill Chuuya, and by extent, would cause Dazai’s death if the plan is not well-thought or if they don’t work together. By referring to his “vitality and craftiness”, Chuuya is acknowledging his familiarity on Dazai, admitting their “rotten relationship”, and justifying his trust on him.

Dazai: That was a somewhat violent way to wake up Snow White.

Chuuya: Tch. You’re the one who hid an antidote your mouth knowing I would punch you.

Another interesting thing I find in the dialogue is Dazai’s line: “That was a somewhat violent way to wake up Snow White”. Fans think that this is Dazai flirting, where he is implying that he wants to be kissed by Chuuya the same way the prince does to Snow White. For me, I think this little dialogue is more than just fanservice since it makes sense, not only in the context of the movie containing motifs of a “poisoned” apple. I think the reference of the fairytale in this dialogue not only foreshadows his “death”, but it also highlights their dynamic whenever they work together with Dazai acting childish and Chuuya knowing that he is actually being serious (or the fact that he cracks some jokes in most Post-Corruption scenes). This is still related to the whole “familiarity” theme that I have been rambling about; as mentioned before, Dazai and Chuuya would use whatever they know about each other just to rile each other up. These moments are generally meant for comedic effect, but these teasing and bickering can serve as their advantage.

Similar to the microscope scene I have mentioned, Dazai makes that microscope comment seem like a childish joke on the surface, however, Chuuya picks this up as a clue and sees his real motive. This kind of synergy is seen again in the prologue of the movie where Dazai jokes about Chuuya getting hit by bullets when he is in close range of the enemy, and yet, the latter takes it as a warning that an ability-user is nearby. We really don’t know if Dazai leaves a Snow White-related clue for Chuuya before the events in Dead Apple (it would have been pretty cool tho), but that dynamic in the microscope incident and prologue is very similar to that dialogue we see in the movie: Dazai is being playful, but Chuuya sees and calls out his ulterior motives. This is how Soukoku works!

PART 2: The Art of Catharsis

The relationship of Soukoku in the battlefield is one of the best teamwork we have seen in the anime. Both parties are synchronized in the way that Dazai’s brains and No Longer Human, and Chuuya’s fighting skills and Corruption perfectly compliment each other. Moreover, we also see the basis of that partnership, and this is something that the creators want to highlight in this scene (in other words, how did the animators deliver this dynamic?)

In my opinion, I think the words “gentleness” and “cathartic” fit in this scene. To start off, before this moment takes place, we have witnessed Chuuya fighting the Dragon.

That scene was intense! Chuuya activates Corruption, generates into pure destruction with him yelling Dazai’s name (despite the fact that he is not supposed to be in a proper mindset). The way this scene plays out is interesting; in the shot, we see the two main figures (the Dragon and Chuuya) mostly in red—which is a very vibrant color—in contrast to the blue and green background. By using the color that pops out, the attention is on them, and it is topped with the amount of action in that moment. Not to mention, the background music, containing a rock music and a rap, elevates that energy. It is a scene that heightens the adrenaline, so the audience can empathize with Chuuya—understanding him as a character that is full of life, and also his hastiness to kill it before he runs out of time.

When that fight is over, we notice that the music alters into a string orchestra. This is a very good change because the tempo is slower—a direct contrast to the rap music—as if it is slowly bringing the audience down from the hype in the fighting scene the same way Chuuya slowly goes down and hovers Dazai’s body. The music immediately stops right on cue when the punch happens, then the audience is left in silence. Usually in films, silence is used for the purpose of anticipation. In this case, the anticipation is placed on whether Chuuya’s punch and/or the pill worked and saved Dazai.

The transition from the white background into a blue background should indicate that Dazai is alive. And yet, the animators did this subtly rather than showing Dazai’s face (like in Season 1 episode 1), just so the audience is still in the state of anticipation (add that with the white noise in the background). Furthermore, there is a fairytale quality in that shot, like this is similar to when Sleeping Beauty (in this case “Snow White”) wakes up, that’s when the colors in the castle come back.

Getting close to that iconic shot, I love how the animators keep the “camera” in the same place (Chuuya’s face), that way we can further empathize with Chuuya by seeing a close shot of his state: he was at his limit! But as soon as the blood starts moving away from the screen, we can see a bandaged hand moving to his face. And then, finally!

Words cannot describe how much I appreciate the details of that scene, especially on Dazai’s gesture. He moves his hand slowly but quick enough to nullify him right on time. Not to mention, he does not just touch his cheek but rather cups it (look at the shape of his hand!). One can say that the gentleness in Dazai’s gesture is the exact opposite to Chuuya’s punch, and this sort of contrast further highlights the catharsis in this scene. In other words, after all of that intensity with the fight and seeing Chuuya’s bloody state, it is relieving to see that familiar hand touching him, indicating that Chuuya can rest. And seeing that we witnessed and empathize with him, we know what it feels like.

With that being said, that’s why the third shot above where the hand is fully placed on his cheek and he made a short gasp is my personal favorite. It is the contrast in Chuuya’s face where we can still see “Corruption”, and Dazai’s hand to which he activates “No Longer Human”. I have seen some people complaining about how they want to see Dazai’s face in this scene; personally, I think this scene is animated brilliantly as it is. It is only fair to see a close up of Dazai’s hand to indicate that he is nullifying “Corruption”, after all, “No Longer Human” is works through touch. To top it off, the beauty in “not seeing the face” is more powerful because it leaves more to the imagination—we don’t know specifically what kind of face Dazai is making, but the way that hand moves alone is enough to tell us what he is thinking at that moment. And finally, upon contact, we see Chuuya making a slight twitch—this is when Corruption recognizes No Longer Human and deactivates. This is when Chuuya recognizes that familiar touch and knows that his partner is finally awake, so he can finally rest.

Then we have that iconic shot! Like the one I mentioned above, the camera stays in one place, only this time, it is a long shot, so the focus is on them (thus they are on the middle). Interesting enough, there is no background music in this scene, and we can’t see their expressions. Usually, in this anime, when a character is seen faceless, in order to determine what they are thinking are feeling, the animators would usually make them do a gesture or a dialogue.

In this scene, where everything is silent and their faces “unseen”, our focus goes to their exchanges. Both Mamoru and Taniyama use their “bedroom voices”, and I think it is appropriate considering that their dialogue contains a deeper meaning in regards of their relationship. In other words, as mentioned before, it may seem like another day of bantering, but with their tone, there is something sincere and intimate in what they are saying. Also, the playfulness in Dazai’s comment and Chuuya’s response hits different compared to their other moments of constant yelling. You really don’t need the close up of their faces in order to see that they are at peace in each other’s company.

In addition, the color scheme of the scene is predominantly blue, which makes sense, not just because of Dazai’s ability, but also because it highlights the serenity in the scene. The blue color, the orb, and the bandages that glide silently are animated in a way that they buffer out the red that we have seen back with Corruption, and also indicates a sense of “protection” (which is later seen in the lap scene when Dazai has to protect Chuuya from the fog). In short, the ambiance perfectly fits with how Dazai is there to give Chuuya a sense of comfort in Post-Corruption, letting him rest so that he can compensate for all that he did.

**********

The scene in Dead Apple is something that lies in between of the familiar and the new—we have seen Dazai and Chuuya in this situation before, we know how they function as a team, and we know the level of risk they are taking. But this is something that we have never seen before; like subtleness in his gestures, the softness in their tones, and the fact that these two are in a position where they are saving each other, which becomes part of their instincts. They show how much they trust each other by knowing how much they knew of each other. They acknowledge the fact that their fates are tethered regardless of the years of absence. And finally, it is not just the Prince saving Snow White, but rather: the Prince saves Snow White and Snow White saving him in return.

OK, I just literally fried my brain. If you’ve read this far, I thank you so much for your time! I am so sorry if this is too long. I welcome for any critiques or discussions. So yeah, that’s my ted-talk

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

--

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor. 

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you. 

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall. 

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud. 

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though. 

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself. 

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for. 

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts. 

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch. 

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours. 

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast. 

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing. 

So, yeah. 

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin. 

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting. 

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week. 

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role. 

You almost burst out laughing. 

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure. 

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking. 

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop. 

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table. 

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?" 

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud. 

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table. 

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t. 

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression. 

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back. 

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh. 

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty. 

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness. 

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises. 

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never. 

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response. 

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually. 

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it. 

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it. 

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck. 

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you. 

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going. 

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue. 

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's. 

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss. 

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away. 

It started out with a kiss. 

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss. 

It was only a kiss. 

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it. 

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face." 

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over. 

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace. 

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his. 

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name." 

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip. 

"I doubt it," he purred. 

Yeah. 

Jungkook was right. 

Ah, well. 

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms. 

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips. 

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm. 

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand. 

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm. 

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name. 

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed. 

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him. 

Oh, fuck. 

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his. 

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered. 

Yours. 

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk. 

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin. 

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd. 

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick. 

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far. 

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl. 

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin. 

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat. 

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do. 

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled. 

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you. 

--

masterpost

[i-need-air]

Hybrid!AU Wolf!Bakugou Katsuki HCs.

Summary: How would Hybrid!Bakugou would react to being adopted by the reader and their domestic life together. Headcanons and believe me, it's a long one... [2k WORDS OF HCS psjxksdj stop me pls] PLATONIC/ROOMMATES HCS, will do a part two later on with continuation and romance cuz 2kwordsbro...

Notes: I love Hybrid AU!s and I want to indulge myself with this. I barely see these in the fandom, so maybe you guys will like it! Also, depending on how it goes, I'm gonna consider making more for other characters, whachu say? Tell me what you thought and I hope you enjoy!~ ♥

Part 2 here!

× he's a wolf hybrid, and the workers at the shelter warn you that he's feral as you pass by where he was locked

× it seems he was in an illegal fighting ring and nobody could get close to him even if his living conditions now were much better than the hell hole he lived in before

× he growled, scratched, yelled, overall he needed so much help

× normally that would've been very intimidating to you but while the workers tried to push you towards some bunny or dog hybrids they had around, you just froze because the mf said they were considering sacrificing him

× like wHat the fuck?? he's a human being?????? sure he has a tail but what????????

× and you just foken went crazy for a moment cuz you didn't even see him in his cage, he was hiding somewhere under the bundle of blankets he had, probably asleep

× so you just went mental, demanding an explanation because hybrid shelters do not and should not sacrifice a person

× and your increasing yelling just made all the hybrids anxious

× and Bakugou heard everything [who wouldn't]

× i shit you not, the employee tried to explain why

× legit said cuz he's aggressive

× Bitch I'd be aggressive too! I'd bite your jugular off

× course, security was called but you already prepared to call the police, Hybrid Protection Services, your lawyer, your friends, the president, you name it

× and that's when you said you're adopting whoever was under the blankets. NOW.

× always hated the word adopting, but you were looking to give a hybrid a chance since you finally had a spare bedroom in your new apartment

× so like security and the worker just look at each other cuz who tf is gonna be the brave soul to go inside the cage to retrieve Bakugou Katsuki and get rid of you both already

× you're just staring at them like u srs bro? so you just send them to do the paperwork while you decide to go in yourself because you needed to get out of that place ASAP to still contact HPS on this shelter

× security stayed by the door while you hesitantly walked towards the blanket bundle [not so brave anymore] cuz why did that dude have his gun out??????

× but when you approached the bundle and kneeled in front of it you noticed movement

× a fluffy sand yellow tail suddenly came to view and it was big, slowly moving from side to side

× so with the gentlest voice you could muster [after screaming your lungs out moments ago] you tried to talk to whoever was underneath

× you introduced yourself and said you're here to take them home but got nothing, just casual tail movement

× Big Hunkus Brutus Security Guardus™ was getting impatient so he told you to just "fuckin put the collar and leash on the stupid beast" and you just 🙃 fucking excuse u?? while turning towards him

× it was a delicate time and you needed to take it slow, and anyway you knew you'd get that crap off your [hopefully] new friend as soon as possible

× what you didn't expect was the guard to freeze and raise his gun again, but was pointing above your head, not even looking in your eyes

× so you turn and meet a naked chest, scarred, with recent bruising on and big

× looking up you see Bakugou Katsuki, ruffled blonde hair, wild in all directions, red eyes harsh and staring at the guy behind you, only some pants on his form and tail still waving very slowly behind him

× while Chunkus Brutus trembled in place, gun shaking in hands, you were in the fuckin middle of it all

× what you didn't expect is the hybrid to take the collar in your hands and wrap it around his neck, now looking at you, expression still harsh but this time it didn't scream murder [and then grabbed a shirt, thank the heavens]

× progress? making friends? good first impressions?

× na lol you wish but that's spoilers 👀

× the process of adoption went smoothly, and when I say smoothly I mean Robustus Dumbus Brutus behind both of you with his hand still on his gun while all the workers gathered around to see the crazy insane person that adopted The Devil™, the guy that told you about the sacrificing was actually filing the paperwork as fast as possible under the intense gaze of the wolf

× and Bakugou was standing very close to you, btw, like i can feel your body heat close

× he was compliant at first, when you got in the car you started rambling about your house and how he has a room while trying to take the collar off him but he grabbed your hands

× like insanely fast, one blink and firm grip on your hands

× "i ain't gon be your fuckin pet, understood?" he growled at you but made no movement to bolt and run away

× and you just wanted to roll your eyes cuz ok he can kill you anytime but like didn't he get the message when you screamed back there? [also there was this sense of security you had around him or maybe you were just really dumb]

× so when you said you weren't looking for a pet but to help someone and maybe a friend and roommate, he just narrowed his eyes at you

× suspish human, wild doggo no trust

× anywho he took the collar off himself [like extra fast] but you explained that you are going to get him a bracelet or something less degrading since he still needed something with the information tag to have on himself so police will know he's no stray and he wouldn't end in the same craphole again

× journey home was silent, like eery silent

× he just looked out the window intensely, you noticed how he focused on every sign and turn

× you considered asking him questions but honestly with his past you doubted he would even answer so you just started to ramble about your home, stuff you could do around the city [which caught his attention], items you'd have to go buy for him, like clothes, shampoo, any special food, the bracelet

× he stopped looking out the window and just looked at you

× ok he was intensely staring at your side, basically drilling a hole in your cheek with those crimson eyes and it was making you N e r v o u s because making new friends is hard when you're just vomiting monologs, all while driving

× buying things was awkward to say at least, special hybrid stores were rare and for a guy his size it was even more difficult to find anything, which ended up in getting normal clothes and deciding to adjust them for his tail

× while grocery shopping you discovered he actually knew very well what he wanted after a lot of questioning from you

× he finally sighed at your persistent act and just threw stuff in the shopping cart, a surprising amount of spices too

× now for the bracelet part... you decided to spend more on a code that could be scanned to identify him rather than the distasteful ones with name and who owns him

× good thing you planned ahead a long time ago and saved money but you did notice his sharp eyes on you whenever you paid

× and his grunts and judgemental looks at other people with hybrids

× it's as if he wanted to say something, anything, but was stopping himself, which lowkey worried you because from what you heard Bakugou's supposed to be very vocal

× maybe he was glad to be out of the shelter, you know you'd be

× you get home and he follows you to your house, again giving him another chance to bolt somewhere away from you but c'mon both of you knew he'd outrun you so why force him, just let him take his time

× "So this is your room" shook him to the core, legit he just stood silent in the hallway as you presented your house calmly

× sniffing around

× so much sniffing around, tail low while he checked every corner

× once he did decide to check his bedroom, he closed the door leaving you to set everything up

× what you didn't know is that he looked around, shaking with anger

× this is what normal people have?

× sat on the edge of the most confortable bed he's ever had and hoped the idiots of his friends managed to get something like this too

× and the shitshow began when you called him for dinner

× not enough salt, not enough spices

× he was a pain in the ass and as he let go, little by little you started to see him for who he was

× this, this was Bakugou Katsuki, the guy that started to scold you because of the seasoning of the food

× it formed a bond between you, the start of you seeing his real personality

× a Mom™

× slowly started owning the house, although you found it hilarious

× next day you found him cooking breakfast with such an ease it shocked you to the core

× "The fuck you lookin' at?" as he puts a plate of pancakes in front of your

× you just lowkey uwu when you realize he's waiting for your approval as you ate and I swear to you, best pancakes ever

× chest puffed when you complimented his food and this was the first time he mentioned something about his past; seems he had to cook for everyone at the fighting ring he was at, but he didn't mention more

× talking about his past took forever, putting together bits and pieces he mentioned, yet they were so little

× he'd go silent after mentioning his [what you assumed] friends

× if you asked or pressed too much he'd click his tongue or snap at you

× not everything was dandy though; yes, he was a good roommate, but he did have THE attitude

× but not as the people at the shelter made it to be, like he'd snap at you from time to time but it would get better as he'd start to trust you

× ok, ok, hear me out,,,,

× play with his hair

× it happened by accident; you started to have this tradition after a couple of months of living together: movie nights

× he really liked action stuff but both your dirty secret was watching those shitty horror movies and make fun of everyone in them, so every Friday Night was Movie Night

× he just threw himself on the couch and his hair looked puffy and those adorable wolf ears were twitching, you straightforwardly asked him if you could play with it

× [ask if you don't want your hand bit off]

× he scoffed

× silence

× when he nodded and looked away, you squealed and started scratching, just playing with his hair, mindlessly doing so while snickering at the TV when movement caught your attention

× he was wiggling his tail softly

× you guys never mentioned it but now he sits down on the sofa head close to you on a pillow and wait for them god sent scratches; will 100% roll his eyes and scoff at you when you start, acting like YOU want this

× TERRITORIAL AS FUCK

× seriously glares at whoever comes inside the house

× has a problem with every single soul since they dirty his home

× you don't notice it first but he finally starts calling your house home and that's the ultimate progress

× boy had a lot of hardships in his life so he appreciates what he has

× yet it is very, very hard to gain his trust at first

× when you finally do though? he's a loyal friend forever

× he's thankful to have you

× will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever tell you

× his actions speak for him

× you're part of his pack now

× but seriously wash the dishes or you'll die.

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

[bjornswoman]

Zinnia

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hey guys! I hadn't post for a while because I wasn't creative. These past days I lack from creativity a lot, so I hope you will like this. Thank you for your support. Till the next time, have fun and take care.

Pairing: Modern!Bjorn x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, romance, drama, angst, smut.

Summary: You and Bjorn are friends but that's not the only thing he is for you.

Warnings: Smut, jealousy, strong language.

"So, tell me. How does it feel like to be the son of two of the most powerful people in the world?" The blonde chic asked Bjorn and he chuckled. The brunette on the the other side of him were looking at him the same way as her stupid friend. You, on the other hand, rolled your eyes at her stupidity. You took your glass and sipped the liquid it contained.

Why did women have to be so stupid sometimes? Some of you embarrassed the reast who were normal and not on your knees for a man.

They thought that being the son of Ragnar and Lagertha was easy because he had a really comfortable and easy life but it wasn't just like that. His life wasn't just money, fancy parties, expensive stuff from brand names. Bjorn was holding heavy weight on his shoulders. Being the son of these people meant that the others werw expecting from him to be equal or even greater than them. He had to prove that he wasn't just having a name but was creating his own reputation apart from the one that followed their parents' names.

Lagertha and Ragnar started from a little farm in nowhere and after all these years they ended up conquering the world. They made money and reputation all by themselves. Bjorn couldn't be just their son. He had to build his own name and a great legacy after it.

You could understand how it felt to be their child. Your father had his own reputation. He wasn't Ragnar Lothbrok, but he was Floki the Boatbuilder. He, Ragnar, Lagertha and some friends of them started all these by themselves. You had to prove that you were yourself, not just Floki's daughter as Bjorn wasn't just Ragnar's son.

The name he carried was heavy and great, he had to be worthy to prove that he wasn't just that name. He was Bjorn Ironside Lothbrok not Bjorn Lothbrok son of Ragnar Lothbrok. They gave him the name Ironside for some reason.

"It feels like—" Bjorn paused for a moment thinking about the suitable word to express how it was to be himself.

You placed your empty glass on the counter and motioned to the barman to pour you another one. After that you turned to the three of them.

"It feels like heavy weight on his shoulders I'd say." You spoke and sipped from your new drink.

The women who were next to him didn't evwn pay attention to what you had said, but little did you cared. You didn't care at all about them to bw honest. They were just the women of his night. In fact, not even the women of the night. The night had just started and you were aware that he would find a lot of women to please. That was what Bjorn wanted from women. He wanted to lay with them once and nothing more. Maybe they didn't approach him for only this. They craved fame and recognition, invitations to fancy parties, money and stuff, but Bjorn didn't want nothing serious.

Bjorn seemed amused by your answer. He downed his own drink and ordered another.

"That's an interesting and really intriguing answer. Care to speak about it more, zin?" Bjorn spoke to you smirking.

You rolled your eyes again at the nickname and his smirk grew wider.

This nickname was found by him when you were kids. You were best friends with Bjorn and Gyda, his late sister. As children, you used to play at your mother's garden. Her favorite flowers were zinnias and chrysanthemums, so they were planted all over the garden. You used to sat on a bench next to zinnias. You were telling him how much you liked them, so he found that nickname. Zin as zinnias, the flowers.

Zinnias were you code word too. When you were sad all you had to tell him was this word and he knew that it was the time for him to stop joking.

It was normal to you to fall for him. He was always tough, muscular, rich, funny, kind, grumpy, sweet —when he wasn't grumpy— and ridiculously handsome. But you realized that late. You knew you were in love with him in high-school. He was the guy all the girls wanted to lay with. Bjorn had laid almost with all of them. That hurt your feelings, but you knew that he was like that. He didn't want anything serious back then too. You used to get yourself in trouble all the time and Bjorn managed to get you out of it every time as the tough and muscular guy he had always been. The guys who were hitting on you, trying to sleep with you and you were ditching them not in the polite way didn't dare to mess with you because they knew they would be dead by him.

Bjorn would never let anyone touch you like that.

Anyways, you didn't use this as a code word anymore. Bjorn was the one who used it as a nickname for you and you kept telling him not to call you zin.

"Don't call me that." You grumbled. "Being their son means lots of duties. You have to prove that you are not just a spoiled brat but a man worthy of the name he carries. You have to work to be great just like them." You said and sipped again from the glass you were still holding.

The brunette next to Bjorn rolled her eyes and put her hand on his chest.

"You didn't answer the question." She spoke and you were the one to roll your eyes this time.

These women were really stupid. You couldn't even looking at them. They were made you feel angry and dizzy at the same time.

The blonde one threw the hand of her friemd away from Bjorn's chest and put her own. She didn't just to put it to be honest, she started caressing his chest above the black shirt he wore.

This move was something you didn't like. You didn't like women touching him like that. They could have sex but not that. You didn't like when they tried to be something more than that.

You hated the idea of someone being more than that for him.

And that someone wasn't you.

If it was someone, you would try to accept it. You wouldn't like it, but you would try. If there was, you would move on.

After your answer Bjorn wasn't like before. He wasn't even paying attention to the girls, like he had forgotten that they were there. His blue eyes were fixed on your figure and his mind was replaying your answer. Those words were the exact words he believed. He felt exactly the same way as you did.

"Hey Bjorn!" Exclaimed the blonde one and he lookes at her forming a smirk on his lips. "What about my question?" She asked him in a certain way that made you roll your eyes again.

"Yes, your question." He said smiling.

Bjorn was about to give an answer, a really stupid answer, but someone's voice stopped him and it wasn't yours. It was Rollo's. His father's brother. His uncle.

"Bjorn!" You smiled and hit him at the back of his neck. Bjorn stood up and greeted his uncle the way they always did. Rollo's left Bjorn and fell on the chics and then on you. He smirked and turned to his nephew. "And who the ladies might be?" He askes referring to the stupid women who were sitting with Bjorn previously.

The names was something that Bjorn could never recall. This time wasn't different. He didn't remember the names of those two women he was speaking with the last forty minutes.

"I am Natalie and that's Sonia." The brunette spoke to him and his smirk grew wider. You rolled your eyes again and turned all of your attention to your drink.

Rollo wasn't a person that you liked. He had something that was strange. His vibe was strange. You thought him untrustworthy after he betrayed Ragnar and teamed up with that Borg guy. You had told Bjorn too, but he made sure to tell you that Rollo was fine which you didn't think so. Your father didn't like Rollo too. When Floki was talking about him, he was calling him traitor and he wasn't wrong.

The girls seemed to be more interesting to Rollo than to Bjorn after they met him. Of course, they stuck with whoever have greater reputation. If Ragnar was there, they would be right next to him.

They were still talking, but you didn't care about what they were saying until you heard Rollo talking to you. You didn't want to answer, but you knew better than ignore him. Bjorn would be mad at you if you ignored the traitor. He wouldn't talk to you and he would be grumpy. When Bjorn was grumpy, he was unbearable.

"Aye, (Y/N)!" Rollo exclaimed and you turned to look at them. You forced a smile on your face. "You look lovely as always." He brandished you and you tried really hard not to roll your eyes again. You tried not to look like you didn't likw him but that wasn't really easy.

"Thank you, Rollo." You said back and downed the liquid in your glass. You motioned to barman to pour you another one.

After some more talking with Bjorn, Rollo took the girls and left Bjorn and yourself alone. As alone you could be inside a bar. Bjorn sat down on a stool next to the one you were sitting and motioned to the guy to pour him one more too.

"You didn't seem pleased when you saw Rollo." Bjorn managed to say.

"You know my opinion about him. It's the same with the one my father has for your uncle." You spoke back and tilted your head to look at him.

"He is not that bad."

"Exactly. He is worse."

"That's not what I meant, (Y/N)."

It was strange to call you by your name. He didn't use it often. He went by zin or pet or brat or something else apart your own name. It sounded better than it was supposed to when it came out of him mouth.

"That's what I meant, Bjorn. That man would do anything for power. He is jealous of his own brother because of that." You said and sipped from your drink. Bjorn followed your movements. He placed his glass on the counter and turnes his head to look at you. His beautiful eyes locked with yours.

"Power is dangerous. It—" You stopped him giggling.

"I know. I know. It attracts the worst and corrupts the best. You have told me that before and I remember me telling you that Ragnar is right." You said giggling and giggled too.

Ragnar was a good man. You admired him. He was right in many things. Your father loved him. He really did. Ragnar was Floki's best friend.

"He is." Bjorn muttered and downed his drink.

"Easy, bear. We don't want you to get drunk." You mocked and you smirked.

"We?" He mocked back and you laughed.

"Yes, we, because I'll be the one who is going to carry you home." You answered him and downes you own drink.

It was his turn to mock you.

"We don't want you drunk either." He pointed out and took the glass of your hands placing it on the counter in front of him. You laughed and narrowed your eyes at him.

"Why not?" You asked him laughing. He was smirking at you all the time.

"Because I'll be the one to carry you." He used you own words to mock you and you laughed again. Only this time, you noticed you were way too close and that made your body burning and you heart beating faster inside your chest.

"Well, I am not a huge bear like you."

You were really close this time. Closer than before. The smirk was fixed on his face. You, on the other hand, stopped laughing. You were just looking at him. You were just inches away from each other. Your eyes left his gaze and looked at his lips. They seemed soft. For a moment you caught yourself thinking about the way they tasted. His eyes was looking at you lips too, but not for long.

Bjorn pulled himself away from you and stood up.

"Come on, zin. Time to go home. We drank enough for tonight." He spoke and you followed him.

You felt kind of disappointed. For a moment you wanted to kiss him. In fact, you expected him to kiss you. Women were speakimg about those kisses of him. The called them unique. He had his way with everything. You wanted to feel his kiss. You wanted to feel Bjorn. But you wouldn't try any move on him you didn't want to destroy everything you had.

You were walking next to him, you were outside the busy bar. It was normal to be busy a night like that. It was Saturday night. Bjorn turned to look at you.

"I am going to get the car. You stay here." He spoke and you nodded staying there as he was walking through the direction he had parked his car.

It was kind of boring to wait for him. You had nothing to do. Until someone spoke to you, or better screamed your name qnd you looked at his direction. It was one of your father's friends, Torstein.

"Oh hey!" You exclaimed as he was coming closer to you.

"Are you here on your own?" He asked you as he didn't notice anyone around you. You smiled at him politely.

"No, I was here with Bjorn but he went to get the car. We are leaving." You explained and his smile grew wider. He was definitely drunk.

"Is Bjorn here?" He asked happily and a small smile formed on your face.

"Yep. In fact, he will be here at a minute or so." You answered looking around for Bjorn or even his car.

"How's Floki?" He asked you and your smile grew wider at the name of your father.

"He's good. Just the way Floki always is." You spoke and he laughed. Before he could say anything Bjorn showed up, standing next to you.

"Just the man I wanted to see!" Torstein said loudly and Bjorn greeted him.

They talked a bit about what they are currently doing and about Ragnar. Then Torstein left and Bjorn turned to you.

"Come." He said and you followed him.

"It was nice to see him." You spoke to Bjorn. He didn't reply. "It's nice to see that my dad has some friends apart from his obsession with Ragnar." You continued, as Bjorn was driving.

"Nobody is a real friend around here, (Y/N)." He finally said and you turned to look at him frowned.

"Ragnar, Floki and Torstein seem to be friends though." You said.

"They are." He replied.

"And Athelstan is a close friend to your father." You pointed out.

"He is. I am not talking about them." He said and stopped at the red light.

"I see." You paused for a moment. You couldn't stay silent. You couldn't resist him. You had been wanting to kiss him since the moment inside the bar. "Is that something your father saying as well?" You asked and he looked at you frowned out of confusion before he started moving again. "I mean this that nobody is a real friend." You said not looking at him.

You wanted to kiss him. You felt embarrassed about that. You couldn't keep yourself.

"Yeah." He answered. You smiled and an idea came into your mind.

"Then—" You pointed and paused for a moment. "Let me think." You said again and cleared your throat. He seemed kind of confused but you didn't mind. "Oh yeah!" You exclaimed excited. "Then, we should not be just friends." You spoke like it was something casual but it wasn't. Your heart was pounding in your chest really loud. You felt nervous and kind of embarrassed, but you had just said it. It couldn't be unsaid.

"What?" He asked surprised and glanced at you for a moment.

"I mean—" You paused and breathed. "You know what I mean." You said and he smirked. You were almost outside your house.

"If you want to have sex with, all you have to do is to tell me." He told smirking and stopped rigjt in front of your house.

His words made you feel really embarrassed. Your cheeks were totally red and you seemed like a strawberry or a tomato.

"Forget whatever I said. See you tom—" You were saying and tried to get out of his car and breathe normal again, but his hand wrapped around your wrist and kept you captured in his car.

You turned your gaze at him. He was still smirking at you. Bjorn pulled you closer to his body. You were as close as you were at the bar.

"Tell me what you want." He told you, looking at your eyes. Your eyes couldn't look him in his own eyes. You were looking at his lips.

You couldn't form a proper word. You wanted him. You wanted him more than anything. You body was burning. It craved his touch. The skin of your wrist that he was holding was burning more than your whole body.

Before he could say anything else you pressed your lips to his. His hands moved on your waist and pulled you closer to him by that part of your body. Your body was on his burning one. His strong body was hotter than yours. You could feel it giving some of his hotness to your own body. Bjorn was a good kisser. The best kisser. This was the best kiss someone had even given to you. You were the one who kissed him, but he was in charge of this kiss. He was bitting your bottom lip and you were moaning each time his teeth trapped your lip even deeper. His tongue invaded in your mouth and started dancing with it.

His hands moved at lower than your lower back. He had trapped your ass with both his hands tightly. You left the passenger seat you had been sitting on and moved on his lap. Your own hands were wrapped around his neck.

His mouth wasn't just kissing and bitting you. It was claiming your mouth by each one of his moves. Your hands left his neck and cupped both of his cheeks.

He didn't want to stop kissing you, but both of you needed to breathe. You pulled away but not away enough. You were just some inches away.

You couldn't stop smiling at him. It was weird to look at him after you kissed him, but he made sure to make you feel comfortable. Bjorn lifted your chin by his hand and made you look at him. He was smiling at you too.

"You don't have to feel embarrassed and blush about it, zin. It was just a kiss." Bjorn told you and the smile left your face. You were disappointed by his answer. You wanted it to be something more. You felt something more. But you knew Bjorn was too well. He didn't want what you wanted. He didn't want things to get serious between us, as he didn't want things to get serious with nobody else.

You moved on his lap ready to go back to the passenger seat and then walk out of this car. You wanted to go to your house and fall on the couch. You were embarrassed. All this were embarrassing. Your plans were thrown out of the window by Bjorn. He had other plans. His hand wrapped around your waist again and stopped you. He trapped you between his hands and looked at you confused.

"I am waking up early tomorrow. I have to sleep, Bjorn." You spoke, trying to avoid his gaze. You tried to move away from him, but he didn't let you again.

Bjorn noticed that something was wrong with you. You had called him Bjorn and not bear. When he called you zin you called him bear. This time he called you zin, but you called him Bjorn. You were all nice and happy but after the kiss you shared you acted all weird, calling him Bjorn and not bear. He kept telling you not to call him bear but Bjorn, as you kept telling him not to call you zin but by your name.

"I know that this is a lie. Tell me what's going on. The truth, (Y/N)." He said. Bjorn's hand made it on your chin again and he lifted your head to look at his bothered blue eyes again. "You know that you can tell me anything, zin." He continued and you tried not to let the tears that threatened you to fall.

"Anything but that. I can't tell you that."

"Hey, you can tell me everything, (Y/N). Try me."

You looked away for a moment to crear your mimd and gather your courage and tell him the truth. After all these years you were finally about to tell him. Maybe his rejection would make you see through him, would make you forget about your feelings about him and finally move on.

"I—" You paused for a moment. You were speaking and not looking at him. Then you looked at him again, ready to tell him everything. "I love you. That's the reason I kissed you. I - I have those feelings for you from high school. But I understand that you don't want me like that. It was my mistake to kiss you, but I couldn't keep myself from doing so." You confessed. After you spoke your words, you were looking anywhere else in the car and out of it except him.

"No, no. That kiss was the right thing to do. I like you for a while as well. But, as you told yourself, I can't give you what you want. I am not the man who craves commitments, (Y/N)." He spoke. He was looking at you all the time. You didn't. You were looking outside the window, tearing up, trying not to let him understand that you were like that. "Hey! Look at me!" He told you and you did as he said. Bjorn's hand left your waist and wiped away your tears. You closed your eyes and let him touch your face. "Don't cry. Not for me and anyone else. Men like me don't deserve this." Bjorn whispered to you and you started crying. His hand was about to clean your face again, but you stopped him.

"Don't fucking tell me what to fucking do, Bjorn!I will fucking cry for you and whoever else I fucking want!" You yelled at him and covered your face with your hands.

You didn't really know the reason you were like that. You knew exactly how Bjorn was and yet you were crying over this. Actually, you were crying for no actual reason.

Bjorn didn't talk. He didn't know what to say. He felt bad seeing you like that. He thought that he liked you, but its wasn't just that anymore. Seeing you crying made his heart clench inside his chest.

"(Y/N)." He muttered your name and took your hands away from your face. He cleaned your tears. This time you let him do it. Your eyes wasn't looking at him. They were closed. His hand stayed on your cheek caressing it after he finished cleaning your face from the tears.

"I am sorry." You muttered back and finally opened your eyes.

Bjorn loved your eyes. He had told you that they were innocent and playful at the same time. Your father used to say that those two eyes of yours could destroy the whole world by one of your looks. Those eyes after all this crying were red and they hurt.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He whispered.

You were still on his lap but you didn't care about that after your confession to him about your feelings.

"Let me finish." You told him, looking at him. "I'm sorry for making you feel so uncomfortable. I know exactly what you believe. You don't like commitments and I am okay with this. We can still be friends if you want. I mean, it would be okay if you don't want us to be friends after what I told you." You rambled, still looking at the man any woman would be on her knees for.

Bjorn was thinking about something, you could tell by the look on his face.

"No, I don't think that we can do that. I can't do that." He finally said after some moments of pure silence. You nodded your head at his words.

"I see and I—" He didn't let you finish.

"You don't understand, but I don't blame you." He spoke. Bjorn came closer to you. You were confused by him. He said that you couldn't be friends but he didn't mean that. That man was so complicated. Bjorn Ironside Lothbrok would be the death of you for sure. "You know that I don't like commitments. I don't date. I can't date you. I thought that I just liked you, but that was only until I saw you crying. Seeing you crying felt like someone was ripping my heart off my body." He confessed not looking at you anymore.

"You mean that—" You tried to say again, but his hoarse voice stopped you.

"I want to try for us, but you know how I am like." Bjorn spoke and rubbed the back of his neck. You chuckled at him and he did the same.

"Okay. Do you want us to take it slow?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Good."

"Good." Both of your voices at the end were soft. Bjorn was smirking all the time and you were grinning at him. "Where were we?" He asked after some time, that smirk was still fixed on his face. You were inches away from him again. He brushed his lips against yours and you moaned softly.

"In the part after I kissed you." You answered and as you spoke each one of your words your lips were touching slightly his own.

"Oh yeah that part. Is this the part you inviting me in your house or the one we calling it a night? I'm asking because we agreed to take things slow." Bjorn said nervously and you chuckled.

"I think that's the part where—" You stopped and just looked at him for a moment. Your hand was on his arm caressing him. "You and me are going inside my house and then it's up to you what happens. My parts are ending the moment we enter my house, bear." You continued and his smirk grew wider.

"Then, we shouldn't waste our time in here, zin." He said and you smiled again. You returned on the passenger seat and get out of his car. Bjorn did the same thing and within a moment you were inside your house.

"My part ends here." You reminded him.

His hands found the sides of your top and pulled you closer to him by them.

"Good." He spoke and pressed his lips violently on yours. The kiss was rougher than the previous one. His mouth was sucking you lips and you were trying hard not to moan all the time.

You didn't stop kissing even when you started unbuttoning his shirt's buttons. You took it off and stopped the kiss this time to admire his strong body, that was marked on many parts of it of ink or little scars. Within this little pause, he found the chance to pull your black top up and take it off your body, leaving you with your bra. Both of you kicked your shoes off your feet.

Bjorn placed his strong, huge hands on your waist and placed you on his shoulder. His hand landed on your ass and you laughed. You couldn't see him, but you could guess that he was smirking. Bjorn walked with you on his shoulder through the hallway that led to your bedroom.

When you were inside there, he threw you on your bed. Bjorn's hand went to his belt and he took it off his pants. He came closer to you and trapped your hands in one of his own. He wrapped his belt around your hands tightly and tied it on your bed's back.

"If you don't like anything that I am doing, tell me and I will stop. Okay?" He asked you as he was tying you on the bed.

"Yes." You spoke.

He didn't say anything else. His large hands squeezed your breasts above your bra and you moaned. You tried to move your hands, but that was impossible. They were tied really tightly on your bed. Bjorn's hands left your breasts and moved at your back, he unclipped your bra and threw it on the floor along with his pants.

After this, his mouth attacked one of your breasts. He licked, bit and sucked your nipple and you were moaning louder than before under him. His free hand was pushing your belly back on the mattress to keep you stable under him.

Bjorn run his hand slowly from your breast to belly and then at the start of your pants. You groaned when his hands unzipped your pants and took it off your body.

His mouth was kissing your left thigh, each kiss was higher than the previous one. After some kisses, his mouth was on your inner thigh, inches away from your wet entrance. Bjorn stopped for a moment and his blue, insatiable eyes glances at you. Your eyes were waiting impatiently for his next movement. He smirked at the sight of you.

His hand — that wasn't pushing you down on the mattress by your belly — ripped off your wet panties. Without any warning, he slipped two hands of his inside you and you groaned. Your back arced, but he didn't let you move from the mattress. His hand pushed you down on the mattress once more.

The moves his fingers did inside you were rough and fast. You couldn't control yourself. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning and groaning.

"Bjorn—" You groaned loudly, close to you climax, but your release never came. You opened your eyes when his fingers were out of you. You frowned as you were about cry about this. He smirked and his face moved close to yours. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss.

When he pulled away and his hands didn't touch your body anymore, you tried to reach him, but the belt which held your hands still on the bed prevented you from reaching him.

"Don't be impatient and greedy, zin." He said in the playful tone of his voice. "We have all night ahead us and probably more nights like this one." He stated and you grinned. Bjorn got rid of his underwear too, freeing his huge arousal. You gasped at his size. "Relax, zin. It's just me." He said, knowing that you felt kind of nervous for the his next movements. He knew way too well to read you.

"Bjorn, please." You mumbled and he smirked.

"Please what?" He said playfully.

"Please take me." You mumbled again and his smirk grew wider than before.

"On my way."

These were his last words, before he placed himself between you legs. Before you know it, he pushed himself deep inside you and you groaned loudly. You weren't used to his size. His thrusts were rough and fast, each one was deeper than the previous one. He hurt you at first.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked you when he noticed the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. He stopped moving but didn't pull his member away from you. You opened your eyes and looked at the man between your legs.

"No, don't stop. Please Bjorn, move." You whispered and that was the only thing he needed to hear to continue.

His movements were faster and deeper than before. This time, his mouth moved on your neck. Bjorn started leaving marks on it. You were groaning and screaming his name. You wanted to touch him, but it was impossible with your hands were tied like that.

After some thrusts of his, you were on your climax. Your body tightened around him and he growled. Bjorn knew you were close.

"Bjorn!" You screamed his name louder than before as you were coming.

"Fuck!" He growled and came too, after you.

Bjorn's hands moved on your own whick were tying with his belt. He untied them and laid down on the mattress next to you. His hands wrapped themselves around your body and pulled you closer to him.

"Relax for a moment and then we will do it again." He said and kissed you hard.

[palettepainter]

How the teachers play favourites

We all know Aizawa and All Might have their favourite UA child, Shinsou and Midoryia. And yeah I know Bakugo and Todoroki are also their UA kids but shhh, Midoryia and Shinsou where the first UA kids they adopted. 

And you can’t tell me Aizawa and All Might play favourites with them, All makes Deku lunch like..hello?? Aizawa gave Shinsou his capture weapon, HELLO?? 

So here are some dumb headcannons for how the other teachers play favourites to their UA kids

Ectoplasm and his UA kid Jiro:

-When he gives back marked tests he’ll sometimes write small encouraging notes for his students to read, he does this to some students when he feels they need a pick up but he always leaves a positive one on Jiro’s 

-During lessons where students are allowed to study in the lesson Ectoplasm lets them listen to music on their phones, everyone thought he would say no so everyone - mostly Kaminari and Mineta - peer pressured Jiro to ask. To no ones shock except Jiro’s Ectoplasm replied with a calm “Sure, but only if you use your headphones”

-Jiro talks about new songs that have been released and Ectoplasm will listen to her geek out about music

-Sometimes Jiro will tell Ectoplasm what her and the rest of the band (herself, Kaminari, Momo, Tokoyami and Bakugo) have been doing and if they’re working on any new songs in-between their studies. Jiro jokes that Ectoplasm is their biggest fan but Ecto is genuinely supportive of their band and admires their creativity

-Jiro once entered maths class and said “Hey miter Ecto, what’s shakin’ bacon?” and while the whole class was stood there in silence thinking Ectoplasm wouldn’t reply he said “Not much double dutch” and then Jiro went to her desk as thought nothing out of the ordinary happened. Kaminari tried to do the same thing to him and Ectoplasm just went “Kaminari your shoe lace is undone-” Jiro was very amused

Powerloader and Hatsume:

-This one started out more like this - Powerloader: Who’s idiot kid is that?....*realises it’s Hatsume* Oh shit- THAT’S MY IDIOT KID-

-Hatsume showed up at the design studio and never left basically, so Powerloader got used to her. He knows Hatsume overworkers herself so he keeps spare energy bars, fruit and bags of crisps in the design studio. He brought a small microwave and kettle for the winter so Hatsume could make hot drinks and food since she insisted on finishing her ‘babies’

-Say’s he doesn’t worry but still insists she goes to recovery girl when she gets a scratch or blows up the studio, sometimes dragging her there himself, ranting all the way about how she’s an idiot. One day Hatsume ended up breaking her leg during a bad explosion and Powerloader very nearly had a heart attack-

He kept a close eye on her while she worked from a wheelchair at her desk

-Makes her wear a god forsaken jumper in the winter when the design studio is freezing, stupid dumb teenager you’ll catch your death of cold

Present Mic and Kaminari:

-This man is shameless with playing favourites

-He greets Kaminari with his signature finger guns and an enthusiastic “AAAYYYY KAMINARI!” Kaminari shoots finger guns back with an “Ayyyyy teach hozit hanging?!” Everyone in class knows Kaminari is a teachers pet despite how Kaminari insists he’s not

-Mic knows Kaminari has a crush on Jiro and Kaminari is an embaressed child who is like “omg msiter Mic STOP-” while Present Mic is coeing and being all like “Aw that’s adorable!”. He always puts Jiro and Kaminari together in group projects, Kaminari shoots him a flustered glare cuz Present Mic knows what he’s doing 

-Kaminari teaches him meme/slang language for laughs and everyone in class hates it, Kaminari finds it hilarious. Eventually Mic gets the hang of it but he sucked at using the language correctly at first 

-Calls him lil listener and Kaminari calls him loud mouth 

Midnight and Yaoyorozu

-Another teacher who is shameless with playing favourites

-Midnight being a teacher does have to enforce the dress code if she sees a student wearing their uniform incorrectly - loose tie, untucked shirt, odd brightly coloured socks, chockes, etc. Midnight really doesn’t care all that much if a student’s socks aren’t the sae colour as their shoes...buuut she’s a teacher so she has to enforce it. Except when it comes to Yaoyorozu. Yaoyorozu one day had to wear light blue socks into UA as her tights where damaged, and she was worried she’d be called out for not following the dress code. Midnight saw, and turned a blind eye. She was in the middle of telling someone off for not dressing correctly, saw Yaoyorozu with the odd coloured socks and went “-Oh hello Yaoyorozu you have a good day sweetheart! ^^”

-Always complients Yaoyorozu when she comes into class. Oooo did you try a new hair style? Honey it suits you! New note book, such cursive hand writting! Glad to see you got those new pair of shoes, trying a different shoe brand this time? Very stylish!

-Had been tempted to kick Mineta like a beech ball on more then one occasion when he wouldn’t back off from Yaoyorozu

-The kind of teacher to say “I taught her that~” when Yaoyorozu uses one of her combat techniques

-Girl gossip. She tries to guess who Yaoyorozu will get with, meanwhile Momo is just blushing and blabbering because that isn’t very appropriate for history work. Midnight bats a hand is like “Pft I’m the teacher I can gossip in my own lesson”. Puts her with Todoroki during group projects and she, like Mic, 100% knows what she’s doing

Hounddog and Shishida

-Hounddog: I am not soft....*holds up Shishida* EXCEPT FOR MY 1B CHILD WHO IS VERY STRONG AND HE’S GOING TO BE A HERO DON’T @ ME HE’S AMAZING-

-Encourages Shishida to let loose with his beast form, with his rish upbringing Shishida isn’t used to embracing his more wild and uncaring side, having been raised to always be propper and polite when not in combat. Hounddog geuenily puts in effort to be a little less grumbly around Shishida cuz he doesn’t wanna peer pressure him, he’s giving him time

-Keeps a spare cloth so Shishida can clean his glasses off when and if they get dirty from training

-I imagine Shishida having a quirk called beast and having a more posh upbringing prolly has a little bit of anxiety, having to always be polite and propper even with a quirk called Beast. Sometimes he vents to Hounddog about this and he listens, insisting that it’s better Shishida get it off his chest when he apologises for drowning on

-During training Hounddog basically throws him about like a beanie bag at first, Shishida was still a kid and Hounddog had years of experience. The day Shishida finally knocked him down with a hard punch to the side of Hounddog’s face he felt...bad. But Hounddog was beaming! Shishida may have cried a little bit

Snipe and Hagakure (picked hagakure inspired by a suggestion @snipe-enthusiast made a while ago)

- Protective af

-Hagakure screams the innocent dorky girl of 1A, and thought Snipe makes sure none of the girls deal with Mineta’s bull while he’s around he’s especially protective of Hagakure just cuz...well, have you seen the way she acts? She’s innocent, peppy, happy, cheerful, and Snipe does not want that tainted by Mineta’s preverted ways

-After the exam with Hagakure and Shoji Snipe apologized for what happened and so did Hagakure, admitting that she over-reacted. 

-Hagakure admits one day to Snipe that she’s worried she won’t make it as a hero cuz her quirk isn’t flashy like her classmates. Snipe reassures her by saying that no one thought he could be a hero when he was little (this headcannon was inspired by @frelmidja and a post this did with Snipe) - guns weren’t exactly considered heroic and he got teased in the beginning when his quirk first activated. He told Hagakure to keep working hard and that she had the potential and the drive to be a hero, Hagakure was very thankful for the reassurance

-Hagakure really wants to see what Snipe’s face is like and constantly asks him if he could take his mask off and show them, Snipe has yet to break and take off his mask but Hagakure is very persistant 

Cementoss and Bondo

-Chill babies, they sit and have tea together. 

-I imagine Bondo to be the kind of person to accidentally call Cementoss dad, it happened once during one on one training and he got so embarrassed. Cementoss kept telling him it was fine but Bondo left in a hurry after

-Bondo tried to make certian shapes out of his glue one time but ended up getting himself stuck, Cementoss helped him out and reassured a disheartened Bondo that everyone makes mistakes and that he was progressing well 

-Being one of the taller boys in 1B he often has to hold back Monoma from going over to 1A when Kendo isn’t around, often tries to diffuse conflict before it gets worse, Cementoss is very proud

-After one on one training the two go to the lunch hall to get a hot drink after cleaning themselves up, Bondo tries to bring a different type of tea sweet each time - something like biscuits or chocolate. Cementoss returns the favour by bringing Bondo manju to have after his training

Thirteen + Gunhead and Uraraka

-Proud mum and dad because I couldn’t decide between the two

-Uraraka researches into the affects of zero gravity and how to better use her power, due to this she’s become a bit of a space nut and enjoys thinks like star gazing. When she was a kid and saw Pro Hro Thirteen on the TV she was ecstatic! Her parents brought her a Pro Hero Thirteen plush on her seventh birthday, Uraraka still has that toy. One day the toy got misplaced in the students washing and got mixed up with the teachers, Thirteen was a bit confused why a plush of her - and a well loved one by how old it looked - ended up in the wash. Uraraka hurridly rushes over to explain when Thirteen comes into the students dorms asking if it belonged to anyone. When Uraraka explained she got it when she was younger cuz she’s a big fan of Thirteen...heart squeeze

-Asked Uraraka if she could teach her the gunhead martial arts move, Uraraka was so honored she got to teach one of her idols a combat move! Through the gunhead martial arts move Thirteen met Gunhead and the two become good friends

-One day when Gunhead is teaching Thirteen the martial arts move with Uraraka to help demonstrate Uraraka wanted to take a picture of them all together. Gunhead was too tall to fit into the picture so he kneeled down to be at the same height as Thirteen and Uraraka (he did bunny ears behind Thirteen’s head and Uraraka thought it was adorable)

-Gunhead pretty much puts two and two together with Uraraka having a crush on Midoryia, so one day when Thirteen mentions in passing conversation how giddy Uraraka gets when she’s around this one green haired kid Gunhead just chuckles behind his hand. Thirteen and Gunhead think it’s very sweet how Uraraka totally has a crush on him (unlike Mic and Midnight thoug they don’t force anything and let Uraraka figure things out on her own)