#i got so upset this morning over something that was completely valid but just not worth the energy or negativity

[help-itrappedmyself]

Danny Punches a Clown

Danny is just about done with today. He’s tired and cold and he doesn’t know where he is. After running from his parents to an entirely different dimension, he feels he has the right to be a little bit cranky. He has barely any supplies and no idea where he’s going to sleep tonight, and all of that was before an idiot dressed as a clown started running around. 

Danny does not like clowns in general, but this one was pissing him off. The buffoon had shown up with a bunch of people in clown masks hauling guns, and they dragged him into an old warehouse with a crowd of people. Now they were all sitting quietly, downstairs while he and two other children had been taken away from the goons into a room alone with the man fully dressed as a clown. He’s got green hair, a purple suit, the makeup on his face, over what appears to be scars but might just be special effects makeup to make this particular clown even creepier. 

When the crazy clown started muttering about bats, Danny gave up on trying to see where this would go. 

“Hey, crazy clown?” He asked, standing up. He had interrupted the crazy clown’s monologue to his own computer, but the clown seemed too shocked to be upset about this. “ Look, I’m sure you have some sort of reason for all this hostage-taking and gun-waving, probably even for dressing like that.” Danny shrugged, the two other kids who are with him, two boys that are entirely too young for this situation, are looking at him like he’s insane. Which, valid, the crazy clown does have a gun, but Danny is already mostly dead, so he doesn’t have the same concerns. Danny makes his way over to the side of the desk that the clown is on, realizing that his monologuing to the computer is actually because he’s streaming something. Eh, whatever, not his business so Danny ignores it. “ However, I already have one fruitloop in my life and that is more than enough for me, so I’m going to have to leave now.”

The crazy clown starts laughing, full-on bent at the waist, arms wrapped around his stomach laughing. And Danny just wants to sleep, so ignoring the fact that this will put him on the video, he takes one more step forward and just punches the clown in the face.

He has to use his ghost strength for it, but he concentrates the ability on only his arm so he doesn’t completely transform. Like this, he is strong enough to knock that crazy clown right out in one punch and he falls to the floor in a heap. 

“ Right, well, you kids want to come with me?” Danny asks the children. They nod immediately and run up to him, he lowers them out the window down to a stack of crates below, waiting for them to climb all the way down to the street below before lowering the second kid, because he doesn’t know how sturdy those crates are. Once the second kid is down and they’re both running down the street, he follows. 

He’s about to try and figure out what to do about all the other people inside when the sound of a fight breaks out in the warehouse and the gunshots are Danny’s cue to run. He does not know enough about wherever he is to start showing off his powers just yet and he doesn’t really have enough strength to use them at the moment anyway, given the fight with his parents and his lack of sleep.

So he runs, and hopes that everything will be okay as he tries to find someplace to take a nap. And he forgets about the fact that he is going to be on that video until after he wakes up the next morning.

Now with part 2!

[abowlofpetuniasandawhale]

i wish i could just handle someone being a little thoughtless and rude without it getting under my skin and poking at my wounds so much like. it’s so frustrating that the most inconsequential things just have me spiraling dramatically

[cr-komi]

"I Need to Know"

Summary: After a daunting sex experience, you're left with the idea that you're bad at sex, but is that really true? Or should you go to someone else to see if they can be honest with you about the truth?

Pairing: Kim Namjoon X Reader (F)

Genre: Smut, fluff (just a little bit at the very end)

Word Count: 6,200+

Warnings: Swearing, angst, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this, please!), multiple orgasms

Author's Note: I'm back! It was super fun writing the last story so I'm doing it again :) I hope you all enjoy this one just as much as the last. Again, it's not really proofread per say? More like I just skimmed through it to quickly check for mistakes. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

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"Wait, what did he tell you?"

Your best friend, Sana, had been resting lazily on the arm of the couch, quietly listening as you recollected the events of last night: going to a bar, meeting a guy who, unfortunately, was a total walking red flag, although due to your state of intoxication you were too blind to notice, getting into a car with him and going back to his apartment, and totally fucking up by having sex with him.

To your dismay, your memory had been completely clear, up until the moment you slept with him.

"He told me I was a bad lay." You mumbled, head hanging low.

"Jesus, what an asshole," she retorted, maneuvering herself so that she was facing you, insead of the wall she was previously eye-to-eye with, "why do you think he would say something like that?"

"Well, I know why, actually." You responded, eyes still averted towards the plush rug beneath you, "because the morning after we...you know...did it, he asked me if I wanted to be in a relationship, and I said...well, I said no."

Your words echoed in the stillness of the living room, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue. The shame of your confession still lingered heavily in the air, a painful reminder of your poor judgment.

"Okay," Sana said quietly, trying to gauge the severity of the situation. "So he asked you if you wanted to like...date, and you said you rejected him. Then what happened?"

"Well...he got all mad at me. Saying shit like, 'Oh, I only got with you as a joke,' and 'You're nothing more than just a cocksleeve,' then he told me I sucked at sex and kicked me out."

"Don't worry, Y/N, you probably just bruised his ego and that's how he responded. It's nothing to be upset or embarrassed over."

You looked up at her, your eyes welling with tears. "I know, but I can't get those words out of my head. I mean, does he really think I'm bad at sex? Granted, it's not like I'm an expert or anything like that but--"

Sana reached out and gently squeezed your hand. "Sweetie, you're not bad at sex, trust me. He was just...mad but you'll both get over it. Don't let one asshole ruin your self-image."

"I'm trying, but it's kind of hard, you know? Everytime I try to have sex with a guy it lasts two minutes so they can use me to get themselves off, and then they move on to someone else. I just wish I could find someone who would be honest with me about this whole situation, someone who--"

Suddenly, a light switch went off in your head. You did know someone who could truly tell you if you were bad at sex or not. It may not be ideal, but you can only hope he'll say yes.

"I just...I just thought of something." You whispered, a hint of excitement and nervousness in your voice, "I know someone who can help me out. Someone who could... validate my skills in bed."

"Who is it?" Sana asked, equally intrigued and cautious.

You shot up from your seat on the floor, your phone falling out of your lap in the process, causing a loud crash to erupt the silence that had settled between the two of you.

Sana flinched at the sound, but continued her feat to get an answer out of you, "Well? Who the fuck do you know that can help you out?"

"Uh, it's uh...it's a little weird," you stammered, gently grabbing your phone from off the floor and checking for damages, although none were visible. You didn't want to go through with this, but deep down you knew it was the only option you had.

"Come on, Y/N, spill the beans!" Sana prodded, her voice filled with curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, your face flushed with embarrassment, "I...I can't I promise I will tell you everything later but can you...will you..."

Sana laughed, "You want me to leave?"

"No, it's not that I want you to, it's just--"

Sana slowly got up from her spot on the couch, “Say no more, Y/N, I know you'll give me all of the juicy details later."

Sana smiled and gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, giving you the space to collect your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and gathered your courage, "Okay. I want you to know that this is... unconventional, but I know it's the only way I can get an honest answer."

"Don't worry, girl, I trust you. Have fun though, and be safe!"

You laughed quietly, "I will."

With a smile on her face, she blew you a kiss before picking up her shoes and gracefully departing. As she closed the door gently, you could hear a soft 'click' resonating in the air.

With a resounding sigh, you ran your hands through your hair, calming your shaking nerves by reminding yourself that you'll get through this. You can't change what happened, but you can take control of what happens next.

With a hint of uncertainty, you muttered to yourself, "Alright, here we go." 

You started scrolling through your contacts, nodding as your fingers finally landed on the desired number. Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly pressed the dial button, initiating the call.

After a few rings, he finally picked up.

"Hey, Y/N, I haven't heard from you in a while." His voice was raspy, almost tired in a way, and you wanted nothing more than to simply hang up the phone and live your life with the fact that you're probably bad at sex, but you pushed through.

"Yeah, I know. How are you?" You tried as hard as you could to seem as calm as possible, willing yourself to steady your nervous breathing.

He laughed into the phone, "I'm good, tired, I guess, but that's how things usually are."

You forced a laugh, "Yeah, you're right! Th-that is how things go, that's e-exactly how I'm feeling right now. Life after college isn't easy but I-I'm getting through it and I--" You winced, realizing that you had been prattling on for the past minute about things he probably doesn't care about, "S-sorry, I'm rambling."

You could hear him smile through the phone, "That's okay." He paused for a moment, seemingly thinking about something before continuing, "So, what's up? Did you need something? Or did you just want to check in?"

"Oh, no! I definitely have something to ask you. It's just...kind of hard to say over the phone, can you come over?"

It was dead silent over the line, and you just wanted to crumble into a million pieces. You were so embarrassed. Why did you think this would work? Why did you even think he would say yes to--

"Sure. I'll be over in an hour."

Suddenly, the line went dead, and your mind went numb. Was this really happening? Would he really say yes to this like you hoped he would?

Probably not, but a girl can dream.

Your heart began racing as you realized how close you came to humiliating yourself with your idea. But now, you had a chance to prove yourself and get some real answers.

"I guess I need to get ready." You mumbled, checking the time before scrambling to the shower, ready to shave off every hair on your entire body.

---

The steam enveloped you, a warm cocoon of mist that promised transformation. You stood beneath the cascading water, letting it wash away the remnants of the moments spent waiting for when you could finally see him.

Your fingers combed through your hair, lathering the strands with jasmine-scented shampoo; the fragrance was your favorite, lingering on you like a whispered secret.

"Focus," you murmured to yourself, rinsing the suds from your hair, watching them swirl into the drain. "It's just hanging out, not a life-changing event." But your heart’s fluttering betrayed your casual words.

You reached for the razor, gliding it along your skin with practiced precision, erasing the stubble in smooth strokes. Each movement was methodical, an effort to distract your mind from wandering towards him — his smile, his intellect, his unexpected kindnesses.

"Stop it," you chided yourself, but your lips curved upwards despite the reprimand. "You're just going to jinx it."

After turning off the water, you stepped out onto the plush bath mat, reaching for the towel in an attempt to begin and patting your skin dry. The mirror was fogged over, a ghostly canvas before you. With a sweep of your hand across its surface, your reflection peered back, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability etched onto your features.

"Okay, Y/N, you can do this. Moisturize, makeup, and then--" Suddenly, a loud bang at the door caused you to jump out of your skin.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and for a moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was simply your imagination playing tricks on you. But the sound echoed in your ears, undeniable and frightening.

"Who could that be?" You thought, pulse quickening. Fear gripped your chest as you flung the towel around your body, clutching it tightly to your still-damp skin.

"Coming!" You called out, voice wavering slightly. You hurried to the door, your bare feet slapping against the cold tiles, leaving wet footprints in your wake. Every step fueled by a sense of urgency, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

As you reached the door, you swung it open, revealing the last person you expected to be standing there, despite your phone call from earlier.

Namjoon.

He blinked rapidly, clearly not expecting you to answer the door in such a state.

"Namjoon... What are you doing here? You're early," you stammered, taken aback by his unexpected arrival.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, glancing down at his feet before looking back up at you. "I wanted to come earlier. I just... I don't know, I felt like I needed to see you sooner."

His gaze lingered on you, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of droplets of water cascading down your body, tracing rivulets over your collarbones and along your arms. It was clear that he hadn't anticipated this turn of events, and his obvious distraction only added to the electric charge in the air between the two of you.

"Are you okay?" You asked, your voice a mixture of concern and embarrassment. You couldn't help but feel exposed under his intense gaze, even with the towel wrapped securely around you.

"Uh, yeah," he said again, finally dragging his eyes back up to yours. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you or anything."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you looked at him, trying to discern his true intentions for coming early. Was it simply impatience that had driven him to your doorstep, or was there something deeper at play?

"Can you give me a moment to get dressed?" you asked softly, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Then we can talk."

"Of course," Namjoon replied, stepping back from the doorway. "Take your time."

"No, no," you continued, slightly stuttering, you can come in, I just need a minute. You can make yourself comfortable on the couch or something if you'd like."

Namjoon nodded, noticing the tremble in your voice. He stepped inside, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he crossed the room and sat down on the couch. You closed the door behind him and retreated to your bedroom, quickly pulling on a Brandy Melville tank-top and shorts set.

You didn't put on a bra or underwear underneath...just in case.

You emerged a few minutes later, your hair still damp and looking slightly disheveled. Namjoon was still sitting on the couch, his posture relaxed but alert.

"So," he began as you took a seat across from him. "What did you want to ask me?"

Oh, fuck. Here goes nothing.

"Well...I-I was out the other night," you began, voice trembling with nerves, "and, well, me and this guy, well we...I mean he...I mean we met a-at the bar."

Namjoon nodded, listening intently, never taking his eyes off of you.

"So, we went back to his apartment and...well...we, you know, did it."

Namjoon chuckled, feigning innocence, "I think you may have to spell it out for me, Y/N."

"We had sex." You deadpanned, hands shaking slightly, "a-and when I woke up in the morning, I'll spare you the details, but...he told me...h-he told me I-I was a bad...a bad lay."

You could see the disgust and hurt flash across Namjoon's face at the mention of this guy's insensitivity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at you intently.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. No one deserves to hear something like that, especially not you."

"Well...thank you but, I didn't just ask you here for your sympathy."

Namjoon's eyebrows raised in curiosity, "Oh? Well then why did you?"

"Because I..."

Just do it Y/N, it's now or never.

"Because you...?" He continued, trying to make you finish your sentence.

"Because I want your opinion."

You averted your gaze towards the ground, too nervous to gauge his reaction.

"My...opinion?" He echoed, clearly confused.

"I want to know if I'm really bad at sex or not. So...I asked you over because I know you'd be honest with me."

"Y/N, what are you asking me to do?"

"I'm asking you to fuck me...?"

You mumbled the last part, almost embarrassed to have spoken it aloud. Namjoon stared at you for a moment, shocked, before finally speaking, "Is this a joke?"

You hesitated, not sure if this was the right move, but you knew you had to be honest with yourself. With a deep breath, you looked up at Namjoon, meeting his eyes with determination.

"No, it's not a joke," you said firmly. "I want to know, from someone I trust, if I'm really bad at sex or not."

"I-I don't know, Y/N. I mean, seriously? We haven't seen each other in over a year and now you're suddenly asking me to fuck you?" He rose from his place on the couch suddenly pacing back and forth in front of you.

"I know it's sudden but...please if you'd just listen--"

"Y/N, stop. This wouldn't work out. Ever. I'm your brother's best friend."

"But Namjoon, is that--"

"I-I have to go," He interrupted, making a beeline towards the door in an attempt to escape the situation, but you couldn't just let him walk away like this.

Frustrated, you rushed towards him, grabbing him as quickly as possible before he could leave.

He paused, refusing to look at you and instead averting his gaze to the hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Please, Namjoon, just hear me out," you pleaded, your voice a desperate whisper. "I know this is sudden, but I need some closure. I need to know if--"

In an unexpected turn of events, you found yourself taken aback as Namjoon suddenly gripped your shoulders, forcefully slamming you against the door behind you.

The intensity of his tightening grip on your shoulders sent an electric jolt through your body, and you felt your heart rate quicken as you looked up into his eyes. They were filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"You have to understand something, Y/N," He whispered, leaning in so close to your face that you could feel his hot breath fanning against your cheeks, "There's nothing in this world that I want more than to just fuck you senseless, right here, right now, but I need to know how serious you are."

You looked into his eyes, two twin pools of darkness that seemed to be clouded over with lust, "S-serious?" You stammered, "I-I am serious, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes pierced into yours, leaving no room for escape from this bold new territory, "Are you sure that this is what you want? You're not afraid of any sort of consequence that might follow?"

"No," you responded, steadying your voice in an attempt to sound confident, "I'm not afraid, Namjoon, I want this. Please."

He looked down for a moment, and you could tell he was battling his inner conscience, deciding on whether he should really fuck his best friend's sister or not.

He released his grip on your shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair, clearly still conflicted.

You could see the desperation and need in his eyes, trying to muster up the courage to do the very thing he knew he shouldn't be doing.

I mean, was this really the right thing to do? What if in the end--

"Fuck it."

He closed the distance between you two, his lips crushing down onto yours in a passionate and hungry kiss. He was taking control of the situation, and he knew exactly what he wanted.

Your hands shot up to his face, your fingers entwining with his hair as you pulled him closer. His hands began to grip your waist, pulling you even closer to his body as he ground his hips into yours.

Your body trembled with anticipation as Namjoon began to trail kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You felt his breath on the sensitive skin of your throat, sending shivers down your spine.

As his mouth returned to your lips, you could taste the remnants of his hunger and desire. The tension between you seemed to melt away, as you felt your body respond to his every touch. The wetness between your legs grew with every moment that passed, as you pulled him closer to you.

"Namjoon," you breathed out, your voice a whisper that seemed to hang in the air between you. His hands embraced your waist, pulling you even closer, his body flush against your own. You felt his erection against your thigh, a powerful reminder of how much he wanted you right now.

You moaned softly, arching your back in response to the sensation, and Namjoon responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue darting into your mouth to tangle with yours. His hands roamed over your body, cupping your ass and pulling you even closer to him.

Slowly, he began to guide you towards your bedroom, stumbling through the hallway as you went, your legs feeling weak from the desire that was pooling in your lower half. You hit the bed with a soft thud, Namjoon quickly following you down. He hovered over you, his eyes filled with a hunger that you knew you could easily satisfy.

"Are you sure about this, Y/N?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. You were ready, and you knew it.

He wasted no time in removing your top, exposing your pert breasts to his gaze. His eyes widened as he took you in, his breath catching in his throat.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he whispered, his fingers brushing over your nipple, causing it to harden even more.

You moaned loudly, writhing in pleasure as Namjoon began to suck on your right nipple, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His left hand slowly trailed up your stomach, over your chest, and cupped your other breast, squeezing it gently before rolling the nipple between his fingers. He kissed and nipped at the tender flesh, causing you to gasp.

You felt a sudden rush of heat spread throughout your body as he swirled his tongue around the tip, you've never felt anything like this before—his touch is electric, his kisses like tiny explosions on your skin.

You bit your lower lip, trying to contain the moans threatening to escape. You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and it only serves to fuel your desire.

"Namjoon," you breathe, voice hoarse, "Please."

He smirked against your skin, "Tell me what you want, baby."

“Wanna feel your mouth on me.”

He pulled away from your nipple, trailing kisses down your stomach while his fingers traced down your side, up your thigh, until he reached the waistband of your pants.

“Take them off, Y/N," he whispered, his voice a raspy plea.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you reached down and slid off your shorts, revealing your pussy to him. He groaned, clearly impressed as he took it all in.

“No underwear, huh? I guess you knew this would happen.”

You nodded, “Uh huh– oh, fuck!”

He leaned down and licked your outer lips, causing you to gasp and arch your back in pleasure. You moaned in delight as you felt Namjoon's warm, wet mouth close around your clit, his tongue dancing over your sensitive nub.

Your hips bucked up off the bed involuntarily, seeking more contact as he began to lap at you, sucking softly. The sensation is exquisite, the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive folds sending shivers down your spine.

You gasp as he deepens the pleasure tenfold, his hands gripping your thighs tightly to keep you in place. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, your head thrown back with a soft whimper.

"Fuck," you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, "that feels so good."

You can feel his hot breath on your pussy, his fingers teasing your entrance as he continues to work your clit with his mouth.

You writhe underneath him, moaning loudly as his tongue flicks over and around your clit, driving you wild. Each time he licks you, you shudder, your body tensing in anticipation of the next stroke. You close your eyes, unable to contain your ecstasy, the pleasure coursing through your veins.

You're lost in the sensation, ignoring everything but how amazing his mouth feels on you. The bed squeaks softly as you rock your hips, meeting each of his movements with your own.

His scent surrounds you, musky and arousing, igniting a fire inside you that burns hotter with every passing moment. His hands squeeze your thighs harder, teases you with his tongue, relentless in his ministrations.

You can feel the heat building inside of you, climaxing ever closer. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you near the edge, throat working to swallow back the moans that threaten to escape, but Namjoon stops you.

"I want to hear you, Y/N."

His words unleash a torrent of emotion in you, and you let out a loud moan as you begin to lose control. Your hands grip his hair, pulling him tighter against your sex as your hips buck wildly.

"I can't hold on," you gasp, your voice barely recognizable.

Namjoon smiles against you, and his fingers begin to move in time with his tongue, probing at your entrance, and you cry out, hips rocking off the bed.

You're close, so close, and you want release more than anything.

With a sudden surge of motion, he adds another finger, pushing it deep inside of you, stretching your walls. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he begins to thrust his hand, filling you up.

Your breath catches in your throat, you arch your back, fingers digging into his shoulders.

The combination of his fingers and tongue on your sensitive flesh is too much to bear, sending you spiraling over the edge. "Namjoon," you whispers, voice thick with desire, "I'm coming--"

Your body tenses, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. A moan rips from your throat as you come hard, hips jerking off the bed.

Your walls grip at his fingers, and your nails dig into his shoulders. You quiver and shake, your whole body shuddering from the force of your release.

"You taste so fucking good, Y/N."

When you finally calm down, you feel the warm stickiness between your legs, the taste of him on your tongue.

Your eyes flutter open to see him smiling at you, his face flushed with pleasure. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, and you flinch from oversensitivity.

You slowly lift yourself up after coming down from your high, meeting Namjoon's eyes, clouded with desire and want.

You lean forward, reaching for his obvious erection, palming him through his pants.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his voice ragged.

"Take them off," you murmur seductively, your voice dripping with lust. Your eyes never leave his as he unzips the fly of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection. It's hard and thick, and you can't help but stare at it, your heart pounding in your chest in anticipation.

Your hands shake slightly as you reach out, wrapping your fingers around the base of his shaft, feeling how hot and hard he is. You stroke him slowly, watching his reactions, the way his eyes flutter shut and his lips part slightly. You can see the desire in his eyes, and you know that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You lean in close, brushing your lips against the head of his cock, teasing him with the promise of what's to come. He lets out a low groan as you trail soft kisses down his length

His shaft, before finally taking him deep into your mouth. You suck on him gently, using your tongue to tease and play with his sensitive head. Namjoon groans, his hands threading through your hair as you pleasure him, your lips slowly moving up and down his shaft.

His hips buck, trying to thrust into your mouth, and you let him, gagging slightly but continuing to take him deeper and deeper until his entire length is inside of you. You moan around him, enjoying the taste and feel of him, the warmth and the power you have over him.

"H-holy shit, Y/N. Fuck that feels so--fuck."

You pull back, sucking hard on the head one last time before releasing him. You look up at Namjoon, who is looking down at you with an expression of pure desire. 

His hands find their way into your hair, tangling in the silken locks as he struggles to maintain control. He moans your name, encouraging you to continue, his eyes closing tightly as he loses himself in the sensation. The sound of slurping and smacking fill the air as you bob your head up and down, your mouth working him almost mechanically.

He can feel the bed dipping slightly with every thrust of your head, your bodies moving in sync. The scent of arousal fills the room, and Namjoon knows he's close to the edge. He begins to pant, his breath coming faster as he nears his climax.

Sighing he grabs your hair tighter, pulling you off his dick and forcing you to look up at him, "Enough, I don't want to come before I'm inside of you."

Namjoon lets go of your makeshift ponytail, and reluctantly, you pull away, sitting on your haunches before him, waiting to see what he does next.

He roughly tugs his jeans the rest of the way down his legs, and you fiddle with the hem of his shirt, silently pleading with him to remove it so that he can be bare in front of you.

He obliges, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His rippling muscles and toned abs are revealed, sending a shiver down your spine.

Namjoon's sculpted body was, in his words, "a testament to the hours of dedication he committed to both his physical and mental well-being." His broad shoulders tapered downward into a lean, chiseled torso that showcased his defined pectoral muscles. The light caught the edges of his rippling abs, seemingly amplifying their strength. His arms, strong and toned, were equally impressive - a result of countless hours spent lifting weights and perfecting his form.

You stare at him in awe and reach out, wanting to feel his body against yours. You pull him down onto the bed, your hands exploring every inch of him as you kiss him passionately. His hands run through your hair, gently pulling it back as he takes your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

His body presses against you, your breasts flattening against his chest as he deepens the kiss. You can feel his cock, hard and pulsating, pushing against your thigh.

Your hands explore his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. He lifts himself up, breaking the kiss, and you feel his weight shift as he positions himself between your legs.

He stares at you for a moment with questioning eyes, "Ready?"

You nod eagerly, breath hitched in anticipation. Namjoon slowly pushes himself inside you, your walls tightening around him as he fills you completely. You gasp, arching your back as your body adjusts to his girth.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his eyes locked on yours.

He begins to move, thrusting slowly at first, but gaining momentum as he finds your rhythm. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

"Shit, Namjoon!" You cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain as he hits just the right spot. His movements become more urgent, and you can feel his cock hitting your G-spot with each thrust.

"F-fuck Y/N. You’re so tight babe." He growls, his hips pounding into you.

You whimper, your body trembling from the sensation of his dick filling you up and stretching you out.

You're so close, so close to coming undo--

Suddenly, Namjoon pulls out of you, and you whine at the empty feeling, looking up at him with pleading eyes, "Namjoon, what are you--"

"Turn around," He interrupts, grabbing your hips, "ass up."

You blush at his words, but your arousal only deepens as he helps you turn around, and he positions himself behind you.

He rubs the head of his dick against your entrance, teasing you and making you crave him even more. You moan softly, reaching down to guide him inside you.

With a swift, powerful thrust, Namjoon slams into you, filling you completely as the bed creaks beneath the two of you. You cry out, your hands flying to your mouth to stifle the sound, but your voice gives out and you let out a yelp.

Your heart races as Namjoon's hips slam into you, feeling the thick length of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust.

You moan loudly, a hand clutching onto the sheets underneath you and the other running through your hair.

The headboard hits the wall with a loud thud as Namjoon forces himself deeper inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Your body trembles under the onslaught of sensations - the feeling of being here, the pleasure spreading through you, the sound of your skin slapping together.

"Damn, you have such a nice ass," Namjoon pants, his breaths coming in short gasps as he smacks the supple skin before running his hand back over the spot he marked to soothe it.

You whimper in response, it only serves to intensify the experience for you, the sting combining with the delight of being taken so roughly.

You thrust your hips back towards Namjoon, meeting his movements with equal force, his cock leaking pre-cum onto the floor.

"And these tits," He growls, leaning forward to cup your left breast, rolling the nipple through his fingers, causing you to moan loudly without restraint, body trembling with anticipation.

Namjoon growls low in his throat, his free hand finding its way to your puffy clit, rubbing it gently as he thrusts into you.

"Oh god, Namjoon!" It's almost too much for you to handle - the dual sensations are driving you wild.

You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but you don't want it to end yet, not when Namjoon is treating you like this.

With a groan, Namjoon pulls out almost completely, only to slam back in with more force than before. Your fingers dig into the mattress beneath you, breath hitching as your walls tighten around him, "Fuck, Namjoon, I'm so close!"

"Yeah? You gonna come again, baby?"

"Yes, Namjoon, please!"

Namjoon smiles wickedly, increasing his pace as he feels your desire growing. He grabs the back of your hips, pulling you harder against him as he thrusts deeper inside you. His thrusts are rough and unrelenting, his hips pounding into you with each powerful impact.

You can feel the dampness between your legs, the juice from your arousal seeping down your thighs and onto the bed. The sound of your breaths and his grunts fill the room as the tension builds. Your nails dig into the mattress, leaving small indentations as you cling to the fabric for dear life.

His hands roam over your body, caressing your skin and heightening your sensitivity. He tweaks your nipples, causing you to cry out with pleasure and pain. His fingers explore your inner thighs, trailing along your sensitive skin, making you tremble with desire.

"Oh, shit," Namjoon groans, his eyes rolling back into his head as he feels his own orgasm beginning to build.

With a final burst of energy, you push back against him, meeting his every thrust as he pounds into you, his cock rubbing against your G-spot with each strong movement.

"Fuck, Namjoon!" You cry out, your body trembling uncontrollably as you feel your climax beginning to take hold.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm so close," Namjoon growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he fights to hold back his orgasm.

Your walls tighten around him once more, pulling him deeper inside you as you scream out in pleasure, your body writhing beneath him as you feel the waves of your release crash over you. Your walls tighten and release around Namjoon's pulsating cock, causing him to groan in pleasure.

His own release is becoming too much to hold back, and with a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you as he lets out a loud groan. Your name on his lips as he cries out in pleasure, "Holy shit, Y/N!"

His hips stutter, body trembling as his orgasm overtakes him. You can feel his warm, fluid spilling inside of you, filling you completely. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever experienced before - it's intense, it's overwhelming, and you love every second of it.

He holds you tightly against him, his breath hot against the back of your neck, as he slowly starts to regain his composure. His heart is pounding against your back erratically.

You slowly open your eyes and look back at him, a content smile gracing your lips. "That was incredible, Namjoon," you breathe, your voice soft and sultry.

He kisses your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth as he moves down your shoulder. "I think I agree," he murmurs, his voice already starting to calm down.

You both lay panting, your bodies entwined, the sweat glistening on your skin, the scent of passion filling the room. He pulls out of you, his cock wet and sticky from your connection. He pulls his hips away from you and collapses next to you on the bed, both of you trying to regain your breath.

The seconds pass into minutes, and you both lay there in content silence, your bodies entwined, the remnants of your encounter still lingering between you.

Namjoon's fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, his touch gentle and soothing. He leans in close to your ear, whispering, "Let me clean you up."

"Mmm, okay," you reply, your voice still thick with lust.

He gets off the bed and grabs a warm cloth from the bathroom, bringing it back to you.

Slowly, he turns you over, and you lay on your back, your legs spread wide, his body hovering above you. He takes the cloth and smiles, gently dabbing at your sensitive folds, cleaning away the remnants of your sexual encounter.

You moan softly, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasms. His touch is soothing, yet it sends shivers of desire through you. He continues to clean you, his fingers exploring your delicate folds as he does so.

Once he's finished, he places the cloth on the nightstand and lies down beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

His fingers trace the curve of your hip, massaging gently as you both lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow of what the two of you have just done.

The room is filled with the sound of your heartbeats, in sync and pounding in rhythm with each other. You feel safe and secure in Namjoon's arms, and you turn to face him, a gentle look etched into your features, "So, what did you think...?"

He softly strokes your hair, "About what?"

"Well...am I a bad lay...?" You mumble the last part and he smiles, cupping your cheek in his hand.

"No, absolutely not. You were...perfect. He was probably just upset that you rejected him and that's how he reacted."

You snuggle closer, feeling his heartbeat syncing with yours,"I'm glad you're here with me," you whisper.

Namjoon nods, "Me too."

You smile, feeling his warmth enveloping you.

The tentative silence is broken by Namjoon's voice as he speaks, "Do you want me to stay the night?"

You think for a moment, "Yes, please."

"I'll be right back," he says as he gets off the bed, returning a moment later with a clean sheet and blanket. He carefully covers the two of you with the cozy layers, your bodies pressed closely together.

"Sleep well, Y/N." He whispers.

"Sleep well."

As the night progresses, you both drift off to sleep, the dim light from the moonlight streaming through the window casting soft shadows on the wall. The scent of sex lingers in the air, a heady reminder of the passion that had just passed between the two of you. You are lulled into a peaceful slumber, your hearts beating in harmony with each other's rhythm.

[goodluckclove]

On Not Writing

Hi! I'm back. i had a fun two days of doing absolutely nothing writing related, including scrolling this blog. Wife and I played a lot of Valheim. Took a lot of bike rides. Watched Interstellar for the first time - pretty good, kind of silly at the end. It was my first two-day weekend in probably three months, so it was much-needed, hard as it was.

And it got me thinking of some things I wanted to say to the community here. It's especially targeted towards younger writers, of which I used to be one, but I think it can apply to anyone who finds themselves despairing over how much they aren't writing.

Let's imagine you're sitting with me in this coffee shop. It's an overcast Portland morning and I just inadvertently vivisected a croissant. And as we sip our drinks (I ordered a lavender latte), you lament to me. I don't know what to do, Clove. I just haven't been writing!

You know what I say to that?

Good.

This is a new hot take of mine that I, once again, worry about upsetting people with. Because I see a lot of guides here about how to write, or how to write consistently, or how to write through writers block. But I haven't seen a single person talking about the inverse - how to not write. Or - perhaps more accurately - how to exist as a human being separate from your identity as a writer.

This is a problem for me.

Listen - I started young. I was 12 when I wrote my first novella, and 13 when I completed my first novel the next year. Adults in my life were impressed by the big-eyed child writing so many words. They encouraged me. I wrote two more novels, and they continued to encourage me. Because of the potential, right? I could be successful. I could be famous.

People stopped pushing me to try other things. I saw I was getting validation as a writer, so that only pushed me to continue fixating over something I was already enjoying and getting pretty good at. Dad had me writing two thousand words every day, because that's what Stephen King did. At 16 I finished four full-length novels, which everyone thought was really cool and interesting. I was also sporting dual hand braces every day throughout the winter to cope with the carpal tunnel I still struggle with to this day.

There is encouraging a person in their passion. There is also poisoning them with the belief that their self-worth comes from pursuing that passion. This is entirely, absolutely, even more true for younger writers and artists.

I am enraged for the young writer in my heart and in my head. Because they worried about a lot of the same things I see people worry about on here. Oh, if I don't write I'm not a writer! And to an extent they're right, as to be a writer you need to at some point write some stuff.

But here's the fucking thing, Young Clover - a child should not strive for the work ethic of a professional adult. You did not need to write 2k words a day to be a writer. You were a writer as soon as you updated that terrible Invader Zim fanfiction you wrote when you were 10.

And more than that, though, the most important thing to a person should not be their job and aspirations. If you don't write every day, you're still a writer. If you've never written anything, you aren't - and that's fine. You might write something later down the line, or you might not. Either way you are still entitled to exist on the planet and capable of living a full and passionate and wonderful life.

Hear my words: being a writer is not more important than being a human being.

If you aren't writing right now, maybe you're not supposed to be. Maybe you're meant to be nurturing your relationships, or nurturing yourself. Maybe you're supposed to be volunteering. Or meeting new people. Or gaining a new field of knowledge. Or getting really good at making focaccia bread. Or watching every Mark Wahlberg movie.

I don't like to hear this any more than you do. If I was told that I, for some reason, was not allowed to write for the rest of my life, I would be miserable for maybe a long time. After that passed it's my hope that I would move on and do other things, because my worth is not dependent on being a writer. I like doing it. I like being it, and I hope to be one for the rest of my life. But I never want it to be the first thing people see when they look at me. I don't even like bringing it up in conversation with people I don't already know.

So yeah, if you have "writer's block", maybe consider putting down the pickaxe and getting some rest. Step away entirely from the large boulder that stands between you being the next Stephen King or Brandon Sanderson or Teen Dystopia Writer no. 2321. Take a break, and I mean an ACTUAL break, not the kind where you spend the whole time sulking about work.

I am legitimately begging the writers on here to have developed lives and interests outside of writing. I am begging because I do not have that and it has consistently been one of the hardest things of my life.

You prioritize living outside your writing and it will improve the quality of your writing when you get back to it, as it'll allow you a frame of reference that extends beyond our niche industry. Or it might make you realize that, while you enjoy writing, what you really love is ceramics. Or game developing. Or mutual-aid activism. Or the movies of Mark Wahlberg.

It is not your job to treat yourself like you already have a dozen deadlines and an audience teetering on the edge of disappointment. That's ultimately not going to help you. Your job on this earth is to exist fully, for the sake of the universe that wants so desperately to live vicariously through you.

So breathe. Breathe and calm down. You aren't a failure and there's nothing you have to prove. All you have to do today is drink some water and have a nice snack while you look at a cloud.

Please be kind. All of us need to be kinder to each other and to ourselves.

That's all I want to say. I love you dearly. Please let me know if you need anything.

[rzyraffek]

Due to lack of affecion in my life I gladly wanna say that I made another

Slashers hugs and kisses headcanons

It's fully swf! Pure fluff! They/them Somone hug me pls. Request open

Brahms Heelshire

How his hugs look like: he either goes romantic and hugs them very gently OR just grabs them and holds them as close to him as possible. Loves hearing heartbeat too (when laying in bed )

He loves any kind of physical contact with them! Any handholding, hugs, cuddles ANYTHING this guy loves. Especially grabbing their hips or dhoulders when they are cooking or doing chores

Laying in bed together before staring day and morning routine is a must! He needs to wake up with good mood or he will stay grumpy for whole day

Also pls give him little kisses! On cheeks, forehead, hand, neck HE LOVES THOSE

Billy Lenz

Hugs on couch, him on top cuddling like his life depends on it, like they gonna evaporate in his hands if he stops hugging

Also he is going to say a lot of weird things (wow no way billy lenz saying weird stuff??) And he will inform them that he is plannin on doing the nasty with them later (respectfully)

But he enjoys the moment

Everytime he sees them after long day (assuming that s/o works/studies outside their household) he will just keep one of his arms around them till they go shleep really

Also he stares, a lot, if they aren't in huggy mood he will just stare without any emotions on his face, hes not mad he just misses the warm feeling of somone loving him :(

Also he bites

Asa emory

I swear this little prankster will pretend he fell asleep on couch while yall be watching movie, just to hear them react and take care of him. Also he melts when they give him little kisses or turn tv off so he can peacefully nap.

Or when they are tired after long day and have nap on him while he monologues about cool bugs. Playing with hair and lil massage included

He doesnt really like hugging while he just stands, it feels so akward, so he rather go lay on couch/sit on armchair while yall wanna get phisical

Every cuddle session ends with one of you falling asleep and other one really hates waking the first one up

Jason Voorhees

I dont really write for Jason but oh boi

Cuddling before sleep is so goofy, this guy is huge, like HUGE. If s/o prefers being smol spoon he will cover them completely, he is one of those people who put their leg on their partner so they are closer. But if s/o prefers being big spoon, he will giggle, blush even, he loves it! Also good luck with not being squshed at night

This guy really goes 'a mimiimi ah mimimii zzz' when sleeping btw

He will pick them up while hugging and hold hands 24/7, especially after that one event when s/o got lost in Forest once. No. No more of that pls there are degenerates around

Bear hugs

Micheal Myers

No

Just no

He won't hug anyone really, its uncomfortable for him. I mean after really long time spent and enough trust given, he will let them hug him, or grab his arms and hands and give him lil smooches

But he won't really give those back, no, even if they are very upset or in bad mental situation, he won't. Respect that

Again-if he knows them well and likes them, he will pay no mind in them giving him smooches or hugging him. He gets that that's how they find comfort, but don't think he will do it too

Vincent Sinclair

This one is very hugable bean

He will be akward due to his lack of social skills but oh boi isn't he very meow meow?

When they kiss his head or hug him while saying something nice. Guy will be soso happy

He gets very shy when Bo sees yall hugging. Like he did something embarrassing:(( somone needs to explain to this poor baby that hugs and comfort is okay and valid :(

Bo Sinclair

His hands are all over them

If yall aren't holding hands, he has his on their hip, or on they shoulder

He also kinda ??? Sniffs you??? Idk he likes how they smell?

He likes when they lay on top of him or when he's big spoon

Will say some goofy level stuff, wacky even

And bites them a bit, not hard tho

Also vincent once walked in room while yall were cuddling and laughing and he thought yall were doing the nasty and now he has (another) trauma

Boioioioojgn 3am here yall have great day bai

[sometimes-men-need-help-too]

So this woman asked reddit if she was in the wrong for joking about her husband in front of their colleagues after he refused to socialize.

She started out mentioning that she received a promotion at work to a more senior position than what her husband has. She said that while he was happy for her, she thinks he's embarrassed that she's his superior now.

They went to a work related social event ( It was supposed to be an opportunity to build team cohesion and that sort of thing.) . The husband didn't really want to go, said he had a migraine and she added that he's pretty introverted. She told him that it would be weird if he didn't go, that people would think he's jealous of her, and after some time, she was able to convince him to go. She said he greeted a few people but mostly sat in the corner and only talked to a few people at a time.

She said she was in a large group when someone, who had not yet seen my husband there, asked where he was and jokingly asked if he was as serious and mysterious at home as he was at work.

I told them he was the complete opposite at home. I said that while at work he seems organized, at home he’s a bit of a slob. I joked about how he always leaves his laundry all over the floor and I mentioned things like how he complains too much about random trivial things like the neighbors' kids sometimes playing on our lawn.

I also mentioned how he has a fear of heights and how he was shaking the entire time when we crossed a rope bridge during our honeymoon. I did say a few other things like how I sometimes feel like I’m his parent.

Everyone was interested and surprised to hear all of this, and we did share many laughs together. At some point, my husband walked into the conversation and quickly pieced together what we were talking about. The rest of the conversation was awkward after that.

On the drive home, my husband was not speaking. When I asked him if everything was alright, he said that I surprised him. I was annoyed by him being vague, so I told him that I knew that he wasn’t feeling 100%, but that he was acting childish for not socializing and acting offended.

He said that it was childish and rude that I was sharing his personal details with our colleagues. I then told him that he was blowing things out of proportion, but he didn’t respond, and the rest of the ride was silent.

When we got home, we argued again about the night's events. My husband said my behavior was appalling and that he questioned if I had any respect for him. I was angry by his outburst so I told him that he was only being sensitive because I was technically his superior now and that what was really bothering him. The argument ended there, as my husband didn't want to "waste any more time" and went to bed.

This morning, I texted my younger sister what happened, and she accused me of being insensitive.

So it was pretty unanimous that she was in the wrong. I definitely agree with that verdict. There's a lot to unpack here so let's go:

The first red flag that stands out to me is her manipulating him into going to the social event. I don't know if that's something that would look bad on him if he didn't go, not because of her reasoning but because it's just something you should do for whatever type of work they're in. But even if he had to go, I would think a migraine is enough to stay behind. I've never experienced one myself but I hear they're brutal. And then for her to insist that he go out sounds kinda cruel. Why put him in a position for it to possibly worsen?

The fact that she told him he had to go or it would make people think that he's jealous of her made me question the validity of her assumption that he's jealous of her. A lot of people in the comments didn't believe that either, with some speculating that she just feels a sense of superiority over him. Why else is that your thought? And then you have her reasoning that he was only upset because of her position and not because she humiliated him in front of co-workers.

But even before we get to that part, she was upset with him for not socializing the way she wanted him to. He only talked to a few people at a time, staying in a corner on his own. But again, he did have a migraine so he probably didn't want to be where there was a bunch of noise (i.e. in a group with people talking). But according to her he's also pretty introverted. It's no surprise he's not gonna be up for all that.

She even downplays what she did by calling it joking. But that is not what it was. This wasn't playful, it feels like she was trying to get even with him. She completely put him down, belittled and embarrassed him in front of co-workers. It would be bad enough if she did that in front of friends and family, but this could affect the dynamic between him and those other people.

And there's no way to soften it. She disrespected him by airing out all those things. You don't just tell people your partner's fears and bad habits to make jokes at their expense. What she did, you can't take back. Especially not with "I'm just joking!"

It's also extremely unprofessional. She's showing her colleagues that she's not the kind of person who should bein that position. I mean, if she publicly humiliates someone under her, someone she's married to, then what would she do to someone else? That's what other people are likely to question.

She did respond to a few people, but I wanted to specifically highlight this one:

This was in response to someone who didn't believe OP's claim that her husband was jealous at all.

This kind of floors me. She's assuming and interpreting all this instead of just having a conversation with her husband before everything blew up.

There was also this comment from someone who was on her side:

First of all, people would think something of it. They'd be all over it, saying he's toxic and abusive and that his wife should leave him ASAP. Regardless of what she feels, it doesn't give her the right to talk crap about him like that. It doesn't give anyone the right. He's not weak for being upset at her for talking about things that should have been kept private. Anyone in his place would understandably be upset. You don't treat your spouse the way OP did. It doesn't matter if they have bad habits like the laundry thing or not. You speak about that stuff at home and not a social event.

[totheblood]

I saw your post about Ellie headcanons- what about Ellie with an anxious/scared of the dark reader?

(idk if you’ve done this already- sorry if you have!)

a/n: no i haven’t written for ellie at all! ofc i can! hope you enjoy! also as a general rule my account is MINORS DNI so please don’t interact with my posts if you are below 18!

ellie is so gentle with you, and she always has been. it’s just her nature. so when you reach for her hand when she about to turn off the lights before bed, she can’t help but laugh. “what? you’re scared of the dark?”

she doesnt say it to be mean, but she mentally hits herself when she sees the smile on your face falter. it was her first night she was spending alone with you and she already was feeling like she was completely fucking it up.

“yes, actually.” you say, anxiety evident in your voice. it almost felt like a crime to be scared of something so juvenile as the dark when you were sitting next to the girl who quite literally rips infected’s throats out, but you couldn’t help it.

“oh, hey…” she coos, smoothing your hair back. “that’s fine, i didn’t know.” she tried to warm you up again with a smile but she still saw that same upset look on your face that was making her curse herself internally.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to laugh.” she tries again. “that’s a very real and very valid fear.” she reaches for your hand under the covers and rubs your knuckles with the pad of her thumb.

“you don’t think i’m lame?”

“ i don’t think you’re lame.”

so you keep the lights on and she decides that she would be the big spoon tonight. (she’s usually the little spoon on days when you find yourself cuddled up afyer a particularly long day)

she wouldn’t mention it again after that, not wanting to make you feel ashamed about it again, but everytime she goes out on patrol at night her mind drifts to you and what it must’ve been like for you before you came to jackson.

if you didn’t have electricity, how were you comfortable? were you just terrified all the time? is that why you had never slept over at anyones house before?

it eats her up so when she come home after patrol that morning she climbs into bed with you, wrapping her arms around you once again like the protector she knows she is.

one day you come home to find ellie sitting on your bed with a box in her had. she tries to hide the smirk on her face but you know her well enough to know she’s excited to show you something

“hi, baby.” you say, walking up to her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “what are you doing here?”

“i got you something.” she smiles up at you, her free hand grabbing at your waist as she shoved the box into your hand.

“a present?” you fake gasp, trying to hide the fact that you were actually excited. ellie was a great girlfriend, she was compassionate, listened to you, and always made time for you, but gift giving was for sure not her love language.

so you were suprised to say the least and over the moon with adoration for the girl sitting in front of you. you quickly tore the box open, and stared at the contents inside.

“wha-?” your mouth was hanging open, unsure of what to say.

“it’s a nightlight. i found it on patrol and thought i could fix it up for you.” she was beaming up at you but you were just staring at the box. “aaand you hate it. i’m sor-“

“i love it, you idiot.” you finally smiled back at her. “it’s just that no one has ever done this for me.”

“well, i guess i’m just better than them.”

“i guess you are.”

[absentmindedadmirer]

CLASS 3-A Headcanons

Because this group has given me a lot of brainworms. I might add a list of other class and group dynamics.

General Headcanons:

Izumi takes pride in being the oldest and most responsible out of the 3-A trio.

He is literally one day older than Kaoru but he will shove it in his face and act as the greater superiority (and then Kaoru would flick him in the nose)

Chiaki is actually the oldest but Izumi dismisses this with, "You act like a 5-year so it isn't valid."

Eichi and Keito keep blackmail folders on each other "for funsies" [Madara overhears this and casually says that he keeps blackmail folders on everyone "for funsies!!"

Shu and Izumi talk about fashion with each other and both think the other one is the only one decent enough to get it.

Kaoru likes complimenting Mademoiselle's outfits and Shu sometimes takes them into consideration when designing new ones.

Chiaki holds very obnoxious over-the-top gift giving celebrations, so much so that everyone now participates in gift exchanges on Valentines, birthdays and Christmas.

Eichi loves spontaneously holding MANDATORY class field trips.

Shu obviously does not like involving himself with his classmates but still calls them "decent" (minus a certain someone) and ends up just sitting there observing them and making comments.

Madara loves to greet Eichi by wrapping his arm around Eichi's shoulders, just so he can put Eichi in a headlock. Keito is there to make sure it doesn't last more than 3 seconds.

Eichi loves to involve himself with the 3-A trio because he finds them amusing. He also lacks social skills and yearns for the buddy-buddy relationship they have.

Chiaki wanted to make Mademoiselle a hero outfit but got swiftly rejected.

Kaoru, on occasion, likes taking everyone (minus the idols outside of Japan), on food tours.

They frequent each other's lives but don't really admit that to each other.

Madara acts as an older brother figure to Chiaki and oftend leads Chiaki into more stupidity.

Izumi and Keito have similar taste in glasses.

Chiaki drags Keito frame shopping and Izumi tags along to make sure Chiaki doesn't choose something hideous. Him and Keito then engage in the world's longest convo about stylised lens frames while Chiaki gets bored and tries on all the frames from the kids section because they are colourful. Eichi wanted to go because he wanted to try out frames but Keito refused, saying Eichi didn't need them and Eichi complained about it for days.

! era:

Keito has his desk stocked with a complete first-aid kit, tissues, oscillator, etc. in case Eichi needs it.

On the rare case that Madara and Eichi are in class, they are seen tossing notes to each other with smiles. However, when one hits Keito in the head and he opens it, it's marked with death threats and passive aggressive insults.

They had a contest to see who looked best in Keito's glasses while he was asleep at his desk. Izumi won.

Eichi asked Izumi to paint his nails once for fun, but now nail painting sessions happen every two weeks for everyone

Kaoru first did it as a joke but now he kinda likes looking at his nails and gets upset if anyone ruins it. He's the first in line before Izumi even gets set up. Chiaki loves getting his nails painted but can never keep the paint on. He's always biting his nails, chipping them off by falling somewhere, or just being plain stupid with them. Izumi frets over this and complains as he does a touchup every morning. Keito only did it because Eichi wouldn't stop bothering him about having matching nails! Shu does not particpate. Lest it ruins his image. However, he does comment on other people's choice of design as he sits next to him. Madara complains about not being there enough to get his nails done but then he tries to steal the nail polish when he is there and tries to paint everyone's nails with the most atrocious colour schemes known to man.

Eichi likes playing with Chiaki's action figures (because he has the mentality of a child and likes playing with them) He moves them around while Chiaki gives him telenovela speeches on the significance of each one.

Kaoru likes jokingly telling Eichi to buy the class things as random as keychain sets to food. Eichi takes it literally and buys it all.

Everytime Madara comes back from overseas, he buy the most obnoxious tourist items and clutters the classroom with it as "gifts".

They all collectively play a game of "How High Can We Raise Hasumi's Blood Pressure!!"

Kaoru started it because he always loves teasing people and Keito's a simple target. Chiaki just accidentally joins in while Izumi inadvertently adds fuel to the fire. Madara loves being annoying so what else does he need? When Keito looks to Eichi to see if he joins in, Eichi just silently grabs the oscillator and measures his pulse and announces the rate like a game show host and Keito's pulse skyrockets.

Madara once visited Eichi in the hospital- though not directly. He scaled the hospital walls and slammed a cardboard sign saying "THE END IS COMING." before noisily breaking through the window.

Chiaki once found one of Shu's fashion designs on the floor and thought it was a colouring page. Shu chewed him out when he returned it, but later the outfit was made in those exact colours.

Eichi gets tired of sitting next to Keito all the time so he purposefully sits the farthest away from him and near other people. Chiaki is the only airheaded to not notice the death glares from Keito and Kaoru faintly fears for his life.

!! era:

Eichi made a group chat for the class because he wanted something else to entertain him in the hospital while he was stuck there.

It's still active and Eichi forced Shu to join when he got a phone and will not let him leave. The 3-A trio and Eichi talk the most in it and Keito engages to scold them every few messages. Madara pops in at the randomest moments to start chaos and Shu mostly leaves them on read (he does read every message...) and comments once in a blue moon.

Kaoru usually starts convo in the groupchat in his downtime, when he's in his apartment, and he usually sends random tidbits about his day.

Eichi usually responds first because the notification on his phone distracts him from work he doesn't want to do at the moment.

Chiaki and Izumi then follow and a general conversation sparks up.

Shu eventually responds asking why the chat is still alive and Keito comes into lecture them about staying up during the night and says that he will come into Eichi's office and make him do the work. Eichi stops typing but keeps the phone on, reading the messages.

Madara pops in and revives the chat again, leading Eichi to pick the phone back up, Shu to fully respond in disdain, and everyone to keep themselves up the whole night. Keito doesn't reprimand anyone anymore, just sighs as he makes Eichi do the paperwork the next morning.

Izumi was too far away to paint their nails as often but he usually got on calls to help them do it themselves.

Kaoru is the only one that is competent enough to do it so he gets assigned to paint Eichi and Chiaki's nails before Izumi gets so horrified at their work that he takes the next jet from Italy. Keito is again forced to join and Izumi touches them as much as he can when he comes to Japan.

Shu has made them outfits before, in a frustration that they didn't seem to be the type to sell to a client. He claims that they're still perfect, as nothing made by him isn't so he gives them out when he next arrives in Japan.

He gives Kaoru an outfit first and Kaoru wears it when he goes out to fancy places and says that he likes feeling flashy. He keeps it tucked it safely away specifically for that purpose.

Keito refuses it but ultimately leaves it in the box, in his hands. He doesn't plan on using it, but during formal events, he has pulled it out.

Madara is the first to wear it, followed by Chiaki and those two wore it everywhere they went before Shu yelled at them for being wreckless with precious fabric. They stop wearing it for a while but use it frequently and Shu stops complaining because he vaguely feel a sense of pride in it being that beloved.

Eichi did not get an outfit. Instead, Shu had handed him a small box where he pulled out a handkerchief and told him it was to "wipe the constant drivel that comes out of your mouth". Eichi keeps it and uses it frequently actually.

They still play "How High Can we Raise Hasumi's Blood Pressure!!"

Chiaki bought an action figure for Eichi because he felt that the character's role fit Eichi. Eichi couldn't remember the character's backstory for the life of him, but he keeps it on his desk and likes playing with it during paperwork.

Izumi carried a travel tote bag on him occasionally and off of it dangles Madara's tourist keychains, Eichi's random trinkets Kaoru made him buy the class, and his own matching keychain set with Kaoru and Chiaki.

At first, Shu took as many trips to Japan as possible because he wanted to annoy Eichi by biting into his expenses. Eichi only responded with a "What? You want to see me that badly-?"

Eichi and Madara always end up starting chaos in the groupchat by exclaiming everyone's secrets in the public chatroom.

Eichi doesn't do it out of maliciousness. A little birdie just told him about something that happened and he wants to know more. Madara knows what he's doing and loudly proclaims it in all caps like "LORD ALMIGHTY!!! PERSON A AND PERSON B WERE MAKING OUT IN THE STORAGE CLOSET!!!"

Mostly though. In my head, these guys interact a lot even after they graduate and they give me brainrot agh. I love these clowns so much.

More Enstars Headcanons~: 3-B Headcanons || Marine Bio Headcanons

[happyandticklish]

wait no because those rants are so relatable??? sometimes I find myself questioning if I'm still even ticklish, like I remember what it was like from when I was younger but now it can be so hard to laugh and it sucks because I really really want to. there are acceptions like if I go to get a checkup and they're checking heart rate or if I'm getting a back scratch I suddenly cant keep myself still or quiet, but then??? for example just last week a friend offered to tickle me when they came over and I was ecstatic that they'd offer, agreed like it was the best day of my life, only to barely feel it at all. It's genuinely upsetting and I was a little surprised to see these rants under your blog because whenever I get sad about not being as sensitive as I'd like I always think about your tumblr @ name and how great it is that people out there get to experience it to a fuller extent even if I got a smaller end of the stick. like no cap that has genuinely been my thought process and it's what brings me to a melancholy conclusion almost every time. Didn't know it was common to be like this? made my week seeing to I'm not the only one. like I actually dont know what to say this feels so refreshing thank you!!!!!????? ( + the anons :)

Aaaaaaa I'm glad you could take some comfort in this anon!! ^^ Even if it was born out of an intense lee mood and hormonal shit at 3 in the morning, it's cool that it actually resonated with some people! I COMPLETELY get your first point, there's so many moments of things that aren't supposed to tickle tickling (like shower pressures or putting your hands on the outside of a blender or someone pinching me) and it's hard to be chill about it, but then the second you ACTUALLY get tickled it's just,,, nothing.

If it makes you feel any better, I genuinely do believe that it is purely a matter of technique. The fact that other things are tickling you shows that at the very least you are ticklish, it just has to be unlocked through other methods.

A lot of times if you're anticipating the tickling, it can be easier to control your reactions, because you feel in control with it. Obviously most people aren't comfortable with this right away and you don't have to pick this option, but something as simple as tying your hands up so they're unable to help you can work, as it immediatelly increases vulnerability. Blindfolds and teasing can also help with that.

Also, sometimes it's about directing your ler, even if it feels awkward or stilted. If they stumble across something that even slightly tickles, have them stay there, maybe try more or less pressure, show them whether scratchy tickles or poking works, whether your need rough digging and grabbing or gentle traces. Everyone's different, and a lot of times the things that work on one person will be rendered null and void on another. Using tools can be useful too, or lotion, anything to increase your sensitivity.

Being ticklish is just as much a state of mind as it is a physical ability, so getting to a place where (a) you feel comfortable laughing and reacting around your ler and (b) you also kind of DON'T feel comfortable around them, more in the, 'they make you nervous and giggly right off the bat' type of thing. Our inhibitions can often choke up our responses, so teaching yourself to relax in those circumstances can greatly help.

It might also be that you're just not that ticklish, and that's okay too! Being a lee/switch is entirely based around how you feel about tickling as opposed to actually being ticklish. You can be a barely sensitive at all lee who still enjoys the feeling, or a hyper ticklish ler who can't stand to be touched, and both are incredibly valid! You should never feel like you're of less value because you feel like you aren't meeting certain "qualifications" of what a lee/ler/switch should be.

Here's to hoping you can get tickled to your heart's content in the future!

[ilovethetalkingclock]

Love Bites

GENRE: Horror, Romance

CHARACTERS: Kevin and Streber (Spooky Month)

SHIP: Candybats (Kevin x Streber)

TW: Blood, trauma, hallucination, animal death

SUMMARY: Streber wants to watch over Kevin during his night off, but Kevin isn't so sure... will Streber be safe from the wolf?

SEQUEL TIME, BABY!!! Expect more stories like this!!!

"Pleeeeeaaaase?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! At least for one night?"

"No!!!"

"Kev, I'll try and-"

"Christ almighty, Streber, ever since what happened last year I really don't think anything's worth the risk! You already lost an arm, I don't want you to lose the rest of yourself!"

Streber looked at his prosthetic with the mention of that. As much as he hated to admit it, Kevin had a valid point for the most part. 

Streber had known about Kevin's secret ever since high school. Specifically, it was during the school dance event.

---

Kevin had asked Streber to join him, to which he gladly said yes. Of course, due to the year, they couldn't exactly consider each other dates by the school, but they were at heart.

That being said, Kevin realized that he was making a mistake when he felt mild cramping… just when he and Streber were about to secretly kiss.

Of course, Kevin did his best to do the deed before deciding to tell.

"I… I need to… tell something."

"Yes? What is it?"

"I'm… a… we… we…"

"Hmm?"

"I'm a were…"

"Ooh?"

"I'm aware that it's a bit early to leave butIHAVETOGOSORRY!!!!"

And just like that, Kevin was off.

Streber was… actually not that upset about it. For one, they got to kiss and that was neat.

Second of all, one look at the rising full moon combined with a passion for monster movies and he was quick to make a first guess.

He was more than elated to hear a confirmation when the newspaper came that morning with the reports of what was allegedly an "out-of-control malamute" wreaking havoc around the neighborhood.

Much to Kevin's own surprise, Streber was already at his door, eager to hear everything.

With initial reluctance, Kevin told that while the full moon transformations and blackouts were true, the idea of the silver bullets and the curse being contagious were inventions of cinema. 

What he also told was that the wolf was not a vicious monster, but rather merely just… well… a wolf. A creature that while dangerous when approached improperly, was still simply an animal running on instinct.

"...so have you considered letting yourself transform in the woods more?"

"...not sure. You know how many hunters do their thing there."

---

"...regardless… I know you would never hurt me on purpose."

Kevin felt his eyes water. Gah, why'd that have to hit deeper than it should?! 

"...fuck it. You can watch over me for tonight."

"Yes!!!" Streber immediately felt his spark come back.

"Just… if anything happens… run. Run for your life." 

It tugged Streber's heartstrings to hear, but if it was for Kevin so be it.

---

Kevin awoke to the taste of blood… and the feeling of the wind's breeze. 

What nearly stopped his heart was that underneath him he felt not the cellar floor, but rather the feeling of grass and leaves.

Opening his eyes, he was nigh-blinded by the light of the daylight sky. He looked down to see his nude body splattered with the crimson juices.

"No… NONONONONO… NO!!!"

Immediately, he wandered through the woods in a tearful frantic huff, calling for his lover desperately.

"STREBER?!"

He ventured further, hoping that Streber would not only be still alive, but also the only one to see him naked.

What stopped him in his tracks was Streber's body. The prosthetic was gone, and there was blood coming right from the nub, as if he'd regrown his old arm only for it to be torn off again.

When Kevin blinked tears out, he saw that the still-fresh corpse was torn open with claw marks and bite wounds combined.

Just when Kevin closed his eyes to wail, he heard a voice.

"Kev!!!"

When his eyes opened the body was gone.

He turned to see Streber right behind him, completely unharmed.

Immediately, Kevin embraced him, his tears and snot dampening Streber's shirt. 

The only time Kevin had cried like this was when he realized the incident of last Halloween, and Streber knew. 

Immediately, Streber held him right back, not giving a fuck that his shirt was getting wet with saltwater, mucus, and blood.

After a while Kevin stopped crying and let go, his tears having given way to frustration.

"Streber, what the FUCK did you do?!"

Streber gave a nervous smile.

"Uhhhh… Iiiiiiii may have let you out into the woods??? I followed you and did my best to make sure you were safe!!!"

"Streber, I could have KILLED you."

"But ya didn't!"

Kevin calmed a bit.

"...not even try to?"

"Nope! You snarled at me when you first saw me but just a hold of my hand right in front of your muzzle, you gave a little sniff and we were all good!"

"...huh…"

"Yep!!!"

That alleviated Kevin's fears… but there was still something in his mind.

"This… this is fresher than what's in the minifridge. If I didn't kill you what did I kill?!"

"Oh, that's easy!"

Streber walked Kevin up to a bloodied deer carcass, throat torn out along with its insides and half of the skin gone.

"...ah. I see now."

---

Kevin used a nearby river to wash away the red. It was able to do a good job in making it look like nothing happened.

When he was done, Streber gave out his cape to both dry Kevin and cover him up.

"Do you have to carry this with you everywhere?"

"Why not?"

Couldn't argue with that logic. At least it helped here.

The two walked back to Kevin's house out of the forest and through the neighborhood backyards.

"Soooooo…"

"Hmm?" 

"With this in mind, can I watch you again next month?"

"As much as I want to say no… eh why not?"

"Yay!!!!!!"

The way Streber squealed warmed Kevin's heart. 

"I have a couple hours before work. You can stay in my house until the time comes."

"...can I give you a bunch of headpats first thing?"

Kevin gave Streber an unamused look.

"Sorry, I-"

The face became a smile, which prompted Streber to make one too.

"Obviously."

[silvfyre-writings]

Aizawa Cares Pt. 24 (MHA Fanfic)

Hi, yes, I forgot to post this yesterday omg. I got in the car to work this morning and went "shit, I didn't post the chapter" but here it is now! It's time for Aoyama to shine! I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!!!

Okay, so, usually the way I work is that I try to be a chapter ahead so that if something happens I still have something to post. Well, I've now not gotten ahead. And it's also heading towards December so I'm becoming rather busy ugh.

The next update, as a result, will come on the 1st January, 2023.

HOWEVER! If I do complete the next chapter before then, I will post it, but just in case I can't get it finished in time, that date will be the next chapter post. Thank you all for understanding and I'll see you all in the new year (with this fic at least, and hopefully sooner haha)

Aoyama is crying.

It certainly wasn’t a strange sight for Aizawa to walk in on, and it wasn’t the first time that he’d walked in on one of his students crying. Hell, he often caught Midoriya crying about some thing or another at least once a day; he was surprised Midoriya even had any tears left to cry out by now.

But yes, Aizawa was no stranger to tears. The only question he had was what Aoyama could possibly be crying about. Nothing immediately came to mind; he hadn’t put his class through the usual rigorous training he did, and he hadn’t heard about the other teachers giving them a test so bad that even Yaoyorozu had been brought to tears. Poor Ectoplasm hadn’t realized just how hard he’d made the test until his students had approached him for help—something that they never did unless the situation was dire. Or someone got hurt. But all was well and mathematics had yet to claim a life.

That still didn’t tell him why Aoyama was currently on the kitchen floor, an empty packet of cheese in front of him, and sobbing his heart out, and Aizawa was a little terrified to find out just what could reduce the boy to such tears in the first place. “Aoyama?” Aizawa questioned as he approached his student, coming to crouch beside the boy, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Aoyama looked up at him, tears running down his cheeks. “Someone ate my cheese, Aizawa-sensei.”

Oh. Aizawa glanced at the empty cheese packet sitting on the floor. Yep, it was definitely empty and Aizawa had honestly thought that Aoyama had eaten it, but clearly that wasn’t the case. He’d witnessed just how passionate the boy was about his cheese, often sharing different kinds of cheeses with his classmates; however, unless Aoyama actually offered, the class knew to leave the cheese alone. But this time, one of his students had broken that rule.

“Did you do what I told you all to do?” Aizawa asked gently.

Aoyama nodded. “I put it in a container and labelled it and someone ate it!” The boy’s words rose until his voice was practically wailing.

“Alright, I know it’s upsetting that someone ate your food, but I need you to calm down for me, okay kiddo? Take a breath and wipe your tears.”

Aoyama did as he was told, his lip wobbling as he tried to stop himself from crying. It tugged at Aizawa’s heartstrings. It was such a simple thing to get upset over, but that didn’t mean that Aoyama’s feelings were any less valid. So, he reached over and tugged the boy into his side. His student lost the fight against the tears and began to cry again. This time, Aizawa let the boy cry it all out on his shoulder.

“Write down what cheese it was that was eaten, and I’ll try to get it replaced for you.”

Aoyama nodded into Aizawa’s shirt, a muffled ‘thank you’ coming from the boy.

Aizawa was going to find out who ate that cheese if that was the last thing he did, but first, he needed to help Aoyama calm down. He continued to hold onto Aoyama, not saying anything but just holding his student carefully. After some time had passed, Aoyama seemed to calm down, his sobs quietening into sniffles, and his tears coming to a halt. Still, the boy clung to him and showed no signs of moving.

"How about we get you to your room and you can have a rest?" Aizawa suggested.

Aoyama simply nodded, and didn’t resist when Aizawa guided them both into a standing position; Aizawa then leading his student up the stairs to his dorm room. The entire walk, Aoyama didn’t say anything, just kept his head down and finally pulled away from him when they reached his room. A quiet ‘thanks’ came from his student, and he watched as the door slowly shut behind Aoyama.

Letting out a sigh, Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally preparing himself for the following conversation he had to have with his class. Hopefully, whoever ate Aoyama’s cheese would own up to it, and fast, because he did not want this to become a regular occurrence; a detention and buying replacement cheese should be enough of a deterrent. As he made his way back down the stairs to the common room, he tapped out a message and sent it to his students—minus Aoyama of course—telling them all to come to the common room immediately.

Now all he had to do was wait.

One by one, his class trickled into the dorm, eyeing each other anxiously and slowly approached where Aizawa stood. He’d put his most unimpressed face on for this moment, eyes narrowed. It had the intended effect, for none of his students dared to speak, only taking a seat wherever they could. Midoriya walked into the room, his entire body trembling. If it were any of his other students, Aizawa would take it as a sign of guilt, but this was Midoriya, who quite frankly, was easily frightened. Still, Aizawa watched the boy sit next to Iida and Todoroki, politely nodding at them before turning his attention to Aizawa.

All he was waiting on now was the stragglers, those that had probably been in the midst of something when his message had gone through. And he was right when Bakugo stormed into the dorm, drenched in sweat and ranting about being interrupted; the rest of the boy’s friend group following behind.

“Please don’t sit on anything, Bakugo.” Aizawa said, not feeling up to trying to get nitroglycerin out of the furniture.

“I’m not stupid!” Bakugo snarled, and continued to stomp towards the bathrooms. “I’ll be back!”

Aizawa let Bakugo go, turning his attention back to his class, taking a mental count of who was here. Everyone had arrived, which meant that once Bakugo returned, he could begin. It didn’t take long for the explosive boy to return, free of sweat, yet Bakugo still chose to sit on the floor.

“Right, we can begin.” Aizawa said, but before he could continue, he was interrupted. By Iida naturally.

“But, Aizawa-sensei! Aoyama is not here and you said everyone had to be here in your message!”

“Aoyama is not present because he is the reason I have called you here.” Aizawa narrowed his eyes at Iida, who straightened and gave a single nod. “Now. I do not care what your opinion on the matter is, nor do I want you teasing or mocking your fellow student for what I’m about to bring to your attention. Aoyama did not ask me to do this, I did. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Sensei.” His class echoed quietly, each one of them looking uneasy.

“Now, I am aware that Aoyama likes to share his cheese with you all, and that’s his business to do so. However, Aoyama has expressed that the cheese in the labelled containers is only to be eaten by him, as is the rule in this dorm.” Aizawa pulled out the empty container he’d picked up on the way, showing the labelled lid to his class. A few of them seemed to pick up on what the problem was and paled. “One of you has broken this rule. One of you decided to ignore the fact that the food in this container was not yours and ate it anyway. And I expect that whichever one of you did this, will be mature enough to own up to it, because your actions caused your classmate a great deal of distress, and that is unacceptable.”

Aizawa paused to let the words sink in, yet no one immediately owned up to the cheese. He imagined it was because the culprit was scared of what might happen to them if they did. He did tend to forget how threatening he could be when he wanted to, and that his students were about as forthcoming as rocks when he was actually mad. He sighed, and lessened his glare. “The punishment will be the following; detention, buying a replacement of the exact cheese that was given, and a handwritten and verbal apology to Aoyama.”

Finally, after several minutes of tense silence, Sero raised his hand, doing his best to avoid making eye contact with anyone. “It was me, Sensei.”

Aizawa nodded. “Everyone else but Sero, leave. Now.”

His class was quick to take the escape, practically fleeing the room and heading upstairs. Not one of them seemed to want to dare to leave the dorm with how angry he was. Sero’s friends gave him sympathetic glances as they too, fled upstairs, and soon it was just him and the boy in the room. Aizawa stared at Sero and sighed. “Why did you eat Aoyama’s food?”

“I—I don’t know.” Sero said. “I want to say it was an accident or something, but I honestly don’t know. I just wasn’t thinking I guess.”

“I’m disappointed. I thought I’d taught you all better than this.”

“I’m sorry, Aizawa-sensei.” Sero dropped his head even more, looking thoroughly ashamed at his actions.

“It’s not me you have to apologize too.” Aizawa said. “It’s Aoyama.”

“I’ll do that, Sensei.”

“Of you go then.” Aizawa tilted his head towards the stairs. “You’ll have detention for three days after school, and need to replace the cheese you ate. I expect it done ASAP.”

“Yes, Sensei.” Sero said, standing and quickly making his way towards Aoyama’s room, understanding Aizawa’s dismissal for what it was.

Aizawa sighed, hoping that Sero’s punishment would be enough to stop such a thing from happening again. Hopefully.

 Aoyama was crying. Again.

But this time, he wasn’t crying alone.

Aizawa didn’t know what he’d walked in on just now, but he almost wanted to walk back out and let the students involved handle the situation, thinking it was just a minor disagreement or something similar. But then he saw the same distressed look on Aoyama’s face that the boy had worn a few days ago after the cheese issue, and Aizawa knew then that he wouldn’t be able to leave the situation alone.

“What’s going on?” Aizawa asked as he approached the students trying their best to calm Aoyama down. Yaoyorozu… Ashido… Midoriya… and Sero. A quick glance up the stairs showed more of his class looking on anxiously; trapped on the other side of a wailing Aoyama. It was then that Aizawa saw it; shattered glass at the bottom of the stairs. Ah, shit.

Aizawa knew exactly what it was that had been broken, for it had been a glass sculpture of a building in France that Aizawa didn’t know the name of, but recognized. It was an important possession of Aoyama’s—a gift from his parents if he remembered correctly—and Aizawa wanted to know just how it had ended up broken.

Ever the voice of reason, Yaoyorozu was the first to speak. “It was an accident, Aizawa-sensei. Midoriya tripped down the stairs just as Aoyama was coming up them. We heard the crash and came to investigate, but by then, they were both in tears.”

Aizawa glanced over and Midoriya, taking note of the equally distressed look on his student’s face, and the rapid waterfall of tears running down his face. Aoyama was similarly distressed, but being much more vocal about it. “Midoriya—”

“I’m so, so sorry, Sensei!” Midoriya said in a hurry. “It was stupid of me to trip over my own two feet, and I tried my best to dodge Aoyama, but I couldn’t do it in time, so then I tried to save the sculpture, but I just made it worse, and I can’t apologize enough, and—”

“Midoriya, breathe. Aoyama, I need you to do the same.” Aizawa interrupted before Midoriya could really get going. His student followed his instruction—Aoyama taking a little longer to understand what was being asked of him—giving Aizawa time to approach, resting a hand on both his and Aoyama’s shoulders. “Now, are either of you hurt?”

Both students shook their heads, although Aizawa could see some puncture wounds where the glass had penetrated, and he wasn’t blind to the way that Midoriya was gingerly holding his arm. Aside from a few bleeding spots, Aoyama seemed to be fine, which was good considering he’d probably been squashed by Midoriya in the first place. Teenagers will be teenagers, I guess. Aizawa turned his attention to the students at the top of the stairs, scanning the crowd for the ones he wanted. “Iida! Todoroki!”

Two heads peered through the crowd, pushing their way to the front. “Yes, Aizawa-sensei?” Iida asked, quickly coming to stand just behind his classmates.

“Can you and Todoroki take Midoriya to Recovery Girl, please?”

“Sure thing, Sensei.” Todoroki nodded, quickly helping Midoriya to his feet.

“The rest of you, go back to your rooms.” Aizawa ordered, pleased when the rest of the kids scattered like mice. Now that there was only a small group of people, Aizawa could focus his attention on Aoyama. “Hey, kid, how can we help?”

“You—You can’t.” Aoyama sobbed, reaching for the broken glass, only to be stopped by Sero. “It’s broken!”

“I know.” Aizawa soothed, rubbing gentle circles into Aoyama’s shoulder with his thumb. “But maybe we can fix it?”

Aoyama’s entire body shuddered as the boy tried to gather his words. “It was a gift from my mother. She—she made it herself. And now it’s gone!”

Clearly, Aoyama was too distressed to actually listen to what Aizawa was saying. But thank god that Yaoyorozu was still here.

“It’s okay, Aoyama.” The girl smiled gently. “I’m sure if you tell your mother what happened, she’ll be happy to help you get it fixed. It was an accident that it got broken. I could easily make another for you as well if you’d like, but I think it’s more about the sentiment, isn’t it?”

Aoyama nodded; his sobs having died off. “Maman made it for me before I came to UA, as a way to remember her while she was in France still.” The boy paused. “Do you really think she won’t be mad?”

“Of course not!” Yaoyorozu said. “She’s your mother! How about we write her an email together? Sero and Ashido can gather all the glass and we can try and get it all sorted out.”

“Okay.” Aoyama agreed, letting Yaoyorozu pull him up, both students disappearing back up the stairs before Aizawa could stop them. He’d wanted to make sure that the minor injuries from the glass were alright. He’d just sent Yaoyorozu a message asking her to do that for him.

“Will you two be alright?” Aizawa asked his two remaining students who looked a tiny bit annoyed and being put in glass cleaning duty.

“Sure, Aizawa-sensei.” Ashido smiled at him. “We’ll just use Sero’s tape to clean everything up and take it to Momo! Although it would’ve been nice if she asked us first.”

“Would you rather be the one that has to comfort Aoyama and talk to his mother?” Sero retorted.

“Good point.”

Aizawa sighed, turning on his heel and leaving the two students to clean up the mess. Now he had to make the trip to Recovery Girl’s office to check on Midoriya. Why are my students such a mess? Why?

 

By the sixth time that Aizawa had walked in on Aoyama in tears, he was ready to get to the bottom of the what was the reasoning behind all the waterworks. Aizawa was all for his students expressing themselves, but this was more than the normal emotional distress he’d encountered over his years as a teacher. This time, Aizawa had had to hunt down Aoyama, for the boy simply hadn’t shown up to class that day, and no one seemed to know where he was. His class certainly hadn’t enjoyed the lecture that had come from that little titbit of information, but maybe that would teach them to pay more attention to whether their fellow classmates had actually left the dorms in the morning.

Anyways, Aizawa had left his class the moment Ectoplasm had walked in, and made his way over to the dorms, quickly climbing the stairs to the floor of Aoyama’s room. He was worried about his student, especially after the many breakdowns over the past couple of weeks. Aizawa stopped outside of Aoyama’s door, gently rapping his knuckles against it. “Aoyama? Are you in there?”

Aizawa listened carefully, pressing his ear against the door. He could faintly hear the sound of something moving in the room, but it was too soft to distinguish whether it was Aoyama or something else inside. “Aoyama?”

Aizawa carefully pushed the door open, not wanting to invade his student’s privacy, but also wanting to make sure that his student was actually in there and alive. The room was dark, a stark contrast to what he’d heard about the room in passing conversation. His eyes were drawn to a massive lump in the bed, the covers drawn over to hide the lump from view. The lump was shaking, the bed rattling in response, which explained the noise that Aizawa had heard from outside.

“Aoyama, are you alright?” Aizawa crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed. He carefully pulled the covers down to reveal his missing student, cheeks splotchy and tears running down his face. “Oh, kid, what’s wrong?”

Aoyama’s eyes met his own, and the tears began to fall even faster, and the boy’s sobbing grew worse. Aizawa’s concern shot through the roof, all sorts of possibilities running through his mind for what could possibly be causing this kind of breakdown. At first, he thought Aoyama could be injured—a valid concern since his class had been sparring yesterday—but he didn’t find anything as he scanned the boy. Next, he thought it might be sickness, but it was hard to figure out if the heat Aizawa could feel was an actual fever or just from all the crying. Whatever was causing the breakdown, it certainly wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, so Aizawa just carefully pulled Aoyama into his arms, letting the boy cling to him and cry into his short.

Aizawa rocked Aoyama from side to side as the boy continued to cry, although his wailing was starting to quieten down, the sobs descending into silence. The tremors remained, and occasionally Aoyama would hold his breath; Aizawa felt a little bit of pride in that moment that his student was trying to calm himself down. He continued to soothe Aoyama for some time, just patiently waiting for the boy to calm down enough to tell him what was wrong.

“It’s okay, Aoyama. You just tell me when you’re ready.” Aizawa said, hugging Aoyama just that little bit tighter, ignoring the snot and tears that were slowly staining his shirt. He could handle a little mess if it meant that his student was comfortable.

Finally, the crying stopped, the silence that followed broken by the occasional sniffle and cough. “Aizawa-sensei?” Aoyama whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

“I’m here, kid. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, Aoyama. But you can talk to me.” Aizawa said, running a hand through blonde hair. “I want to help, if I can.”

“It’s stupid.” Aoyama sighed into Aizawa’s shirt.

“It’s not stupid if it got you crying like this.”

Silence followed his words, but Aizawa didn’t push. He just patiently waited for his student to find the words he needed. Several times, Aoyama made to speak, but failed to follow through; still, Aizawa did not push. Pushing would only bring back the tears.

“I miss home.” Aoyama finally said. “Not… home here, but home home.”

“Home home?” Aizawa was confused for just a moment before he remembered that Aoyama hadn’t been born in Japan like the rest of his students. “You mean France?”

Aoyama nodded. Aizawa could feel tears start to dampen his shirt again. “I miss France, and my parents. They went back after the dorms were built. And I can’t visit them…”

He’s homesick. Aizawa finally put the pieces of the puzzle together; when Aoyama had been crying over his eaten cheese, when he’d been crying over his broken statue that had come from his mother. All of those had been reminders of home for his student, and all of them had been broken in some way. It wasn’t surprising that Aoyama had broken down.

All of his students missed home one way or another, but most of them could be soothed with a late-night phone call, or an organized visit. Something that was near impossible when your family lived in another country entirely. And for once in his life, Aizawa didn’t know how to help. The solution would be to arrange time for Aoyama to visit his family, but the current situation with the League made that impossible. A phone call could help, sure, but he doubted that it would. And it wouldn’t be right of him to ask for Aoyama’s parents to just fly back to Japan—considering his students track record with bad parents, he wasn’t willing to risk it either—even though that would probably help Aoyama the most.

“How can I help, kiddo?” Aizawa asked.

“You can’t.” Aoyama let out a single sob. “You can’t help me, Sensei.”

“Let me try at least. Is it just you missing home?”

Aoyama nodded. “Maman and papa are busy. I haven’t—I haven’t heard from them in ages.”

“Okay, okay, it’s alright. We’ll sort something out.” Aizawa ran a hand down Aoyama’s back. He racked his brain to try and figure out what time it would be in France; not something he’d ever had to think about before. Once he figured it out, he couldn’t help but wince. If he tried to call Aoyama’s parents, it would be well into the night.

But if it calmed his student down, it was worth losing some sleep. At least, in his opinion, it was. Aizawa pulled out his phone and found the number he was looking for, only hoping that it was still the correct one. He held the device up to his ear, listening to it as it rang. Aoyama didn’t question what he was doing, nor did he seem to notice.

“Hello?” A tired, accented voice came through the phone. “Who is this?”

“This is Shouta Aizawa. Am I speaking with Ms Aoyama?”

“You are. You’re Yuga’s teacher, aren’t you?” Aoyama’s mother questioned, sounding much more awake. “Is everything alright?”

A competent parent. Finally. “Yuga’s just feeling a touch homesick. Would you be able to speak with him for a bit. I’m aware it’s late and—”

“Put my son on the phone.” Aizawa blinked as he was interrupted, not expecting the woman to interrupt him.

He pulled back from Aoyama and held his phone out to his student. Aoyama just blinked at him. “Your mother is on the phone, if you’d like to talk to her.”

“Maman?” Aoyama shakily took the phone from Aizawa’s grasp, tears welling in his eyes once again as rapid French began to filter through the phone; Aoyama responding in turn.

Aizawa found himself trapped, since Aoyama was still clinging to him, so he resigned himself to his fate and just made himself comfortable, pulling Aoyama into a one-armed hug. He didn’t have a clue about what was being said on the phone, and he could hear another voice had joined the conversation—Aoyama’s father if he wagered a guess—but whatever it was that was being said, it was helping, for Aoyama was slowly starting to relax, looking happier than he had in the past few weeks.

It wasn’t a solution to Aoyama’s homesickness, but it was a start to helping him.

He’d talk to Nedzu and Aoyama’s parents later to see if there wasn’t a way to allow Aoyama some time to go to France, or if they could bring his parents over to Japan for a visit.

And if they couldn’t sort something out, well, Aizawa would just have to learn French, wouldn’t he?

[puckyess]

loving someone who doesn’t love you | thomas bordeleau

this somehow turned into a full fledged fic, but it is based off of the prompt list: 

93. “say you want me, and i’m yours.”

25. “It hurts…” “what?” “Loving someone who doesn’t love you…”

91. “Don’t go on that date.” “Why?” “You know why.” “Say it.”

words: 5.6k

-

“It hurts…” “what?” “Loving someone who doesn’t love you…” thomas looks down at you sniffling on his chest and he’s sure there’s a wet spot on his gray shirt. It’s just a movie, he thinks to himself. But he can’t shake the words because he feels synonimized with the tortured character on the screen. Hopelessly in love with their best friend who seemingly doesn’t feel the same way? Yeah, that sounds about right.

 “I can feel you staring”, you sniffle again. He squeezes you a little tighter and tries to call you out on crying at yet another movie of your own choosing. You push yourself up so that he can see you pout at him. “You’re not being very nice to someone who was just broken up with, thomas bordeleau.” he sighs, the reminder of your ex another twist of the knife. Reaching for your face, he lets his thumb swipe over where your cheek was still glistening with tear streaks and instead of pulling away once he has fixed it, he lets his hand rest there, lightly brushing away any of your sadness. 

“Im sorry, mon cheri, he wasn’t good enough for you anyway.” he tells you gently. Your eyes flutter closed with his gentle touch and you let yourself relax into his palm. 

“But he was. Or at least i thought he was” you mumble, feeling fresh tears prick the corner of your eyes. You weren’t even really sure why your body was starting to cry. If you were being completely honest, you weren’t all that heartbroken with the severed ties. You had grown comfortable with the place that Daniel held in your life, but it wouldn’t be a huge loss to not have him there anymore. Did it hurt to be dumped? Sure. Was it a blow to your ego? Most definitely. But it wasn’t earth shattering and you were positive you would recover rather quickly, especially with the help of your best friend. 

Thomas hates the stab of pain he gets at seeing you upset and hearing you say those words. “He wasn’t. He didn’t like hockey, that alone was an ick” he insists. 

That at least earns a breathy chuckle from you. The word “ick” sounded funny coming from his lips but it was endearing that he had picked up one of your terms. “No, he just didn’t like you,” you correct, a small smile on your face at the memory of their obvious distaste for each other. Thomas was right though, it really should’ve been your first red flag. 

Even though he knows there’s no lie in your correction, he tries to deny it. “That’s not true, i never did anything to him.”

Your brow quirks at his obvious mistruth. “He never had a problem with Matty,” you point out. 

“Well that’s because that’s Matty, no one has a problem with Matty. It’s like a rule or something.”

“Valid point. Ok, he never had a problem with Mackie or Luke. or any of the older guys. He loved pasta and nick. Oh and briss was his favorite i think. They really got along,” you counter and he playfully rolls his eyes.

 “Ok, maybe he had a problem with me specifically,” he concedes. 

There couldn’t have been more of an accurate statement made, unless you replaced the word “maybe” with “definitely”. To put it simply, daniel didn’t like how close you were with thomas and would take every opportunity to make that known. 

“He was trying to make a move on you right in front of me,” he’d raged one morning, ruining a perfectly good saturday. You rolled your eyes and closed your book. “He bought me a drink, daniel. He was not ‘making a move’. And he bought me said drink because you refused to go to the bar to get me one and you know i get elbowed in the head every time I go downstairs.” he huffed and stormed away. 

“Don’t you think he’s….a little much? He looks like a clown.” he comments one night on Thomas’s latest walk in ensemble, one that you thought he looked very attractive in. “i think he looks good. Not many guys have style and the confidence to pull it off.” you retort, eyeing his own black joggers and plain high school tee. Conversation effectively ended.  

“I don’t know how you put up with him”, hed said during a football game on a sunday afternoon. “Same way i put up with you.” you snap. “At least he’s nice. He did invite you over today.” you leave out the part that you told thomas you would refuse to come if daniel wasn’t invited too.

 It was a constant fight, one where you defended thomas every time to the point that finally daniel himself decided it would be best if he dropped the subject.

“Well you did tell him he got a bad haircut the first time you met him,” you remind him, fully laughing this time. “I still can’t believe you did that, like I know you grew up all over the place, but that’s something a normal person would keep to themselves.”

He feigns hurt at your teasing, but is so glad to see that smile grace your face again. “It was bad, you have to admit. You say that i’m the bad guy here, but you were going to let him walk around like that. And,” he adds, his fingers digging into your sides making you laugh even harder, “you told me you didn’t like my hair when i got the mullet, so don’t lecture me about ‘normal people’.” 

You squirm around but are really no match for thomas’ strength if he really wanted to keep you there and it turns out that he did. “Yeah, but,” you try to get out the words, but he keeps making you laugh. “That’s different because it’s us. I can call you out on your shit. And you know i changed my mind on not liking it.” 

He’s smug when he says, “oh i know you loved it.” and you go to protest, but his hands continue their assault of all your most ticklish spots until you can hardly breathe. He keeps going, rolling you both around, occasionally letting you have the upper hand for the briefest of seconds, until it’s just the sound of your wheezing laughter filling the room. 

He finally lets you go and you lay there breathless, your abs in a tight knot and you swear you haven’t felt this light in a long time. Laying on his back, his chest heaving up and down from his efforts, he turns his head to the side to study you. Your cheeks were rosy and there was still the lingering trace of a smile ghosting those full lips he had thought about way too many times as a best friend. Your eyes were shining, this time not because of tears and he has to admit he can’t remember the last time you looked this happy. Your hair was sprawled out all around you and he was sure you’d ask him to brush out the knots that he caused later, but still you managed to look perfect. You were perfect. He doesn’t know how that fool ever let you go, but he’s glad that he did. One of these days he was going to make you this happy all the time. His voice is thick with emotion when he says, “You really don’t need him, y/n, you can do better.” 

There’s something in the way he tells you this, so genuine and full of desire for you to truly believe it that strikes you. It hits you right where you know you’ve got that hidden drawer of feelings that you’ve been keeping under lock and key for so long. You allow yourself one moment. One moment to take in the span of his chest and shoulders and how they’re the most comfortable place in the world even though they're taught with muscle, how his arms are covered in ink that you love to trace and love even more when they’re wrapped around you, the way his hair is adorably tousled and the knowledge you have of how soft it is when you run your fingers through and also knowing your actions will be followed by his soft snores minutes later. You let your eyes trail to his eyes, wild with so many different swirling thoughts and how they stare into your soul and finally your eyes land on his lips and the way they can pull up in a snarl of a smile but also really curl into a soft grin reserved just for you, and then just as quick morph into a smirk so confident it shakes your core and that’s where you stop because you are inexplicably rattled. 

You dont need anyone else but the man at your side and you can do better because he was the best. But you cant tell him that yet, so you settle on a small smile full of all the words you don’t say. “I know”.

-

“I take it you didn’t tell him yet,” Brendan says, sliding in the booth next to you. You elbow him where he had gotten too close to you. He was quite the space invader even when he wasn’t consciously trying to be a pest. 

“Tell him what?” you ask, as if the thought hadn’t been on your mind for days.

He stares at you for a good 10 seconds before saying anything and you have to try your hardest not to squirm, knowing that’s what he wants. Usually you could give brendan a run for his money, but with the subject at hand you had a much harder time remaining still under his gaze. “You know what. A little birdie tells me you have a date on friday, which if i'm correct in my calculations”, he says lifting his arm to check his imaginary watch, “that’s tomorrow.” 

“Fucking mark” you mumble and brendan snickers. “Yeah, fucking mark?! You’re lucky i don’t out you myself for not telling me instead!” you bristle at his hollow threat. 

“He’s just keeping tabs on his liney’s potential mood. So why haven’t you told him yet anyway? You need to you know.”

You sigh, knowing that for once he’s right. “Why do I need to tell him in the first place?” 

Brendan scoffs. “Um so he doesn’t freak the fuck out when he doesn’t see you in the stands at the game on friday?” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Which he probably will anyway, so i guess it’s really a lose lose.” he continues with a smirk. 

You shoot him a glare. “Great, as if i wasn’t already dreading it.”

“What, the date or telling him?” he jokes.

You sigh, picking up your phone to scan the qr code for the menu. “Both.”

Brendan looks up from his own phone with a confused look and you’re glad that the rest of your group chooses that moment to show up so that you don’t have to explain that you dont really want to go on the date, but that you said yes to bury the feelings you had for your best friend and that you can’t bear to see the look on his face when you tell him about the date. You give him a warning look to not say anything, if thomas had to hear the news you wanted it to come from you, as hard it would be. 

Per usual, thomas is the last one to reach the table, just like he was always the last one off the ice. his face lights up once you finally come into his line of view. His arm instantly wraps around you before he ever even glances in the direction of his teammate sitting next to you. “What’s up, mon cheri? You look stressed.”

Damn how well he could read you. You laugh nervously which only earns yourself a worried look from him. “It’s nothing. Im good.” you kick brendan under the table even though he hasn’t opened his mouth yet, just as a reminder. He yelps, but it doesn’t draw thomas’s attention away from you unfortunately. “Are you sure?” he asks again. you nod, not trusting your voice anymore. He eyes you one more time and then drops it, knowing you’ll tell him about whatever it was you were clearly lying about when you were ready. 

He takes his spot next to you, which had been left open by the 10 other boys and settles in, taking off his hat and ruffling his hair with his tattooed hand. The smallest lift of the corner of his mouth lets you know that he catches you watching him, but he doesn't call you out on it. He throws an arm behind you to rest on the back of the booth. He’s not touching you until you lean your head back on him, needing the contact. He hooks his arm to pull you into his side and presses a kiss to your temple before letting you go and relaxing his arm on the back of the booth again. No one pays you two any attention, not that you would have noticed since you’re too busy wrestling with when to tell him about your date. Luckily a group of hockey players is enough noise and entertainment to keep the conversation away from you for most of the time. 

Mark keeps glancing at you throughout the night. And by glancing you mean spells of time where he is downright staring. You try to somehow silently signal to him to knock it off, but it’s to no avail as Thomas finally picks up on it. “What’s with the staring problem tonight, Stop Sign?” 

You have that feeling in your stomach that something bad is going to happen from the second the question leaves thomas’s mouth. Please dont, please dont, you pray to whatever god is willing to listen to you. but mark’s face turns red at being called out and you just know he’s going to crack. He stutters and stumbles over his words, spitting so much nonsense until it’s making perfect sense when he says, “i guess you took the news well.” you could strangle mark if you didnt want to strangle yourself more. 

Thomas doesnt have to be touching you to feel you tense next to him. “What news? What’s he talking about?” you take one look at his eyes that are so full of concern and you feel like you could throw up. You nervously fix your hair, tucking it behind your ears, swallow hard and then rub your palms on your jeans. 

His hands cover yours, freezing them in place. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on? You can tell me, y/n.”

He’s talking to you so soft and low, not because there’s a table full of your friends watching the whole thing, but because he cares. The knowledge of what you’re about to say makes your eyes well up, which doesnt help any because it just makes his hands come up to your face to try to comfort you and you can’t think. 

He looks genuinely hurt when you shake your head and pull away out of his grasp and you can’t imagine what this next part will do to him. “I have a date tomorrow so i wont be able to go to your game.” you blurt out, yanking off the bandaid. 

Despite the restaurant being in full swing, you swear you could hear your heart shatter. His eyes search yours that have now locked on his face to torture yourself with his reaction. It’s like he’s waiting for you to say “just kidding”, but when you don’t, individual emotions - confusion, denial, hurt, sadness, anger -  pass over his face until there’s nothing there at all, which scares you the most. His hands that had still been reaching for you drop like they were shot out of the air. 

“Oh,” is all he says. Save for the set of his jaw, you would’ve thought you had said nothing at all. In fact, no one says anything for what feels like an eternity, waiting for the rest of the bomb to drop. 

“Do i know him?” thomas asks, all too nonchalantly. 

You shrug your shoulders, not really knowing if he did or not. “He’s on the basketball team, so maybe.” 

He nods and you hum in response. This was not how you were expecting this to go. Mark drops his fork on his plate, making you jump. He flinches and mumbles out an apology, shrinking in his seat. You’re just grateful for some kind of distraction.

Thomas clears his throat, earning your attention once more. “Are you excited for your…date?” he asks, voice catching just the slightest at the end. 

His question takes you by surprise. Of course you weren’t excited for your date, you had just practically been in tears saying it out loud, but you couldn’t tell him the reason why so you had to lie. No matter how much it hurts. The best you can manage is a small smile that feels more like a grimace, but you hope it comes off as joyous. “Yeah, i really am.” brendan coughs and mark spills his water and so you spare yourself the pain of seeing thomas’s face crumble for the first time since receiving your news and move quickly to sop up the water and ice cubes moving toward your lap. 

Thomas closes his eyes for the smallest of seconds and replays your words in his brain as he tries to get his body under control while you clean up mark’s mess. You didn’t need to see him like this, he needed to get it together. 

“Im sorry, im sorry” mark keeps repeating as you put the last of the napkins in his now empty cup. “It’s fine,” you say, throat still tight. At least this was something you could fix. You glance over at thomas whose eyes flutter open. “I think im gonna go. I forgot i said id um call jade so. Yeah.” he grabs his phone off the table and stands up. “Briss, cover me and ill venmo you or something later. I gotta go.” before walking away his eyes flick to you and then the space over your shoulder and he says, “i’m happy for you, y/n. Have fun on your date.” and then he ducks his head and disappears from view and you don’t have to keep up your act anymore. You slouch in the booth, the spot suddenly cold without thomas’s arm and body there. You let your head fall into your hands and will yourself not to cry in front of a table full of hockey players. You feel brendan’s arm wrap around your waist and drag you into him. He wasn’t thomas, but you welcomed his comfort. “he’ll be okay,” is all he says. No one asks why you didn’t just tell him the truth. 

-

Friday comes and you text your date that you feel sick, which isn’t a complete lie because you really had felt sick since your dinner last night. You couldn’t get the look of thomas’s face or the sound of his voice when he asked questions he didn’t want to know the answers to out of your head. And as a result your head was pounding and you felt like you could throw up. So you canceled your date and moped all day in bed. 

You don’t go to thomas’s game even though you now had the evening free. You weren’t ready to face him in person, the feeling of yesterday still too fresh. If you weren’t so damn superstitious, you would've skipped out on the good luck text too, in fear that he won’t respond. He does, but you can tell even through a text that things are different. 

His game is off, that much is clear from his first shift. He doesnt play bad, he has some good shifts but the energy he usually plays with isnt there. Hes checked out, flat on his skates and a stride behind on some and then others, he’s a wrecking ball, playing with a physicality and aggression that is well, reckless. He’s all over the place. Hes frustrated and hitting his stick one second and then the next he scores a goal. You swear you see him look to where you usually sit, but you shake your head at the thought. Why would he do that? He thinks you’re on a date. 

-

“i should not be here” you think as you weave through the mess of people at Skeeps. “I’m going to kill mark and most likely brendan” you think as you get splashed with someone’s pitcher. “This better be good” you think as you get elbowed in the head right before you reach the steps for the balcony. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” you say out loud when you see that everyone is perfectly fine. You had a feeling it was a trap, but the thought of thomas possibly needing you had you out the door since mark hung up before you could ask any questions.

“y/n,” brendan happily calls out once he spots you. You walk over to where he’s leaning on the couch with some of the other guys. 

“What’re you trying to pull here, brisson? Don’t even try to tell me mark came up with this on his own.”

Your eyes narrow in on the freshman and you beckon him over, wanting answers as to why you were lured out of your bed to come tend to some imaginary emergency. He guiltily stalks over to you, along with ethan and luke and soon you’ve pretty much just joined the party since they’re all circled around you. 

“You literally dragged me out of bed to save you and you’re all alive and breathing so why am i here?” you demand.

Brendan takes notice of your sweats and sweatshirt that appears to be thomas’s. “You were in bed as in you were in bed or you were in bed?” he digs for information.

“I was in bed as in lights out, sleeping, hoping to not hear your voice on the other end of my phone using mark as bait claiming that you need me to get here asap because there was an emergency. Now explain.”

“Oh. we were just hoping to pull you away from your date but…guy was a dud was he?” brendan laughs.

You shake your head at his honesty and his ability to make you want to crack a smile even if he really should’ve made you mad. “I didn’t go on the date.”

Matty joins the circle just in time to hear that piece of information and his eyes sparkle. “Well, you’re already here. Might as well stick around for a bit. He’s over there in case you were looking,” he says, catching you eyeing the crowd in search of thomas. 

He doesn’t look surprised to see you by the time you make your way to his table, which means he had already seen you come in. you love the way he takes his time looking at you up close though, not even feeling embarrassed about your lack of makeup and haphazardly thrown up hair, knowing he’s seen it all before. He has that soft look of admiration on his face as he takes in your appearance and then it’s replaced with that passive look from last night and all you can think to say is, “hi.” he repeats the greeting and then you just stand there, staring at each other. “Can i have a drink of that?” you ask finally, pointing to the beer in his hand. He slides it toward you and you take the opportunity to move closer to him. You don’t sit, but you wedge yourself between the stool and him. You’re surprised the bottle is still ¾ of the way full and there’s no empties on the table. “Game tomorrow too. Just here to blow off some steam. Briss wanted to come basically” he answers your question. Of course he did. 

You didnt really know where to start, but you knew you guys needed to talk. “look , thomas, i know last night was weird. And i’ve been doing a lot of thinking and i just think you should know-” 

Thomas held his breath. He knew the words that were coming next. ‘I just think you should know i’ve got a boyfriend and we’re gonna have to hang out less. You’re still my best friend though. But he doesn’t get to hear his thoughts confirmed because you’re tapped on the shoulder by who he assumes is your date. 

“y/n? Hey! I, uh, thought you weren’t feeling well?” the guy asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

Oh. did he just say what i think he said? thomas wonders.

“I wasn’t. I’m not”, you correct. “It’s a long story. One of the guys called me and said there was an emergency so i had to come here.”

“Oh. so is everything okay or what happened?” 

“No, everything is fine,” you rush to reassure him and then you realize how that sounds. “I’ll text you to reschedule, ok?” that seems to satisfy him and he heads back downstairs with his friends. 

You sigh and slump onto the bar stool next to thomas once he leaves. 

“You canceled your date?” thomas asks curiously. You could be mistaken, but he sounds hopeful.

“Yeah, i didn’t feel good today” you tell him the half truth. You note the way his shoulders drop slightly as he nods, detecting that there was more that you weren’t telling him. He's thinking about which question he wants to ask next, something you know by the way he chews on his lip. 

“You gonna reschedule the date like you said?”

You think about your answer this time. It would take one word “no” to end this scheme and just let yourself be happy. You had tried dating other people and while thomas hadn’t taken anything to the same official level that you had, you knew you didn’t even like the thought of him doing the same so that was reason enough to just not let it happen for real. You were terrified of losing him, of course you were, but you couldn’t live in this limbo forever. He was worth the fight.

he, however, mistakes your silence as confirmation. His heart breaks a little more, but he just wants you to be happy, even if that wasn’t with him and you had said the other night that you were excited to go on that date. “I think you should. Reschedule the date, i mean.” 

Your train of thought is completely derailed. Matty chokes on his drink, brendan’s jaw hits the floor, and mark knocks over his beer, sending it all over you. You hear a “fucking hell, mark” but it sounds far away because your eyes are locked on thomas’s. “Really?” you ask, unable to hide the disbelief from your voice. His eyes dart down to where the liquid has darkened your sweatshirt, one of his he realizes and you can see something in him crack. It’s just a flash, but it’s there. 

You try again, giving him an out, the opportunity to stop you. “You really want me to?” 

You hold your breath, waiting and willing him to say what you need to hear, but instead he says, “yeah, i really want you to.” 

You sit there for a moment, his words echoing over and over until it’s just too much. It’s too final, the way he says it, too desperate. “Ok then”, you nod, lifting yourself off the stool and heading for the bathroom. You were going to be sick for real this time.

-

You rescheduled your date. You texted him every day, claiming you were so excited. No matter how many times you typed the words, they had yet to become true. You hadn’t talked to thomas since that night, which was over a week ago now and you’re pretty sure this was the longest you’d gone without speaking to him. You were miserable. It was worse than any breakup you’d had thus far and you hadn’t gotten the chance to date him. But he hadn’t reached out, which means he’s not as torn up about it as you are and that is the only reason you haven’t canceled this date. 

You had to give the guy credit, you looked up the restaurant he said he was taking you to and it looked pretty fancy for a college kid budget. Nice enough that you had to dig through your closet for a dress and heels. You cried on your floor when the only one you still had with you was the one you wore to thomas’s banquet last year. And then you cried again when the heels that matched it were the ones that hurt your feet so bad at said banquet that he carried you all the way home even though he had told you to bring an extra pair of shoes. After that though, you didn’t allow yourself any more tears. You slapped some eye patches under your eyes to get rid of the puffiness and took your time getting ready the rest of the way. 

By the time you add your earrings and necklace and look in the mirror you think that you actually look pretty damn hot. But there was something missing. You walk over to your jewelry and your heart aches immediately as you spot your favorite piece, a gift from your best friend, your cartier bracelet sparkling. No more tears you say, sliding the tennis bracelet onto your wrist. 

A flash catches your eye and you look out to see lightning. Fat raindrops start hitting your window and the thunder rumbles. It’s a sign, you think. So much for curling your hair. You hear pounding on the door and you hurry to grab your purse. You swore he said he was still 15 minutes away. You give yourself a pep talk on the way down the stairs and plaster a smile on your face that you hoped didn’t look like you wanted to be doing anything other than going on a date. With him at least. 

“hey , i thought you-” you swing open the door. The person on the other side of the door had their back to you, but you knew. “Thomas?”

He turns and when his eyes land on you they nearly pop out of his skull. His mouth gapes, opening and closing, tongue wetting his lips. His hand comes up to physically wipe the stunned look off his face. “Wow,” he breathes. He tries again, “just…wow.” 

You’re just as shocked to see him there, but you’re hyper aware that you have a date on the way and for some reason you don’t want him here at the same time as thomas. “Thomas, what are you doing here?”

Hearing his name from your lips in way too long snaps him out of it. It’s now or never.  “Don’t go on that date.” “Why?” “You know why.” “Say it.” the exchange is very back and forth, like you’ve been waiting for this volley the whole time. It’s rushed and desperate, as if either of you can’t get your thoughts out fast enough, worried that the other might take it back. 

He rehearsed this the whole way here, hell he’d been rehearsing it for years. But he still couldn’t quite get it out. So he repeats his plea. “Don’t go on that date. Please.” he knows he’s the one who told you to. He knows you gave him the chance to confess his feelings on the spot and he instead pushed you to go on a date with someone else. But he also knows it’s useless to keep fighting it at this point. He can’t stand the thought of you going out with someone else tonight. Or any night. Especially looking this damn good. 

You were this close to getting what you wanted, but you needed to hear him say it. You needed to know that you weren’t making up feelings that weren’t there, that you weren’t ruining quite possibly the best relationship you’d ever have with someone over a miscommunication. You needed to know that if you were going to risk it all, that he would be willing to do it with you. So you ask him again, “why, thomas?”

His face softens, it’s the same one he gave you after watching that movie about being in love with your best friend, the one that told you everything he couldn’t say. Except now, you were going to make him say it. “You know why, mon cheri” he says, his lips curling up into that special smile he saved just for you. He has closed the distance between you, securely holding your face in his hands. You look up into his eyes and see the vulnerability that’s there.

“Say it” your voice barely above a whisper. “Say you want me, and im yours.”

Your words seem to free something in him. He laughs lightly, shaking his head. “Well that’s easy, y/n, ive always wanted you.” 

You grin like you’re the luckiest person on earth, and maybe you are. “Well that’s good, thomas, because I’ve always been yours.”

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Hi!!!! i love our writing and i just knew you could do this! Could you do one with a father Aizawa and a gender nuetral chil reader, who is jealous of Midoriya. Because when Midoriya harnesses his quirk Aizawa be happy dadzawa but when the reader was like 6 or 7 and harnessed theirs he said like " Work harder." Or the world won't want a weak hero and stuff and thats why they hate Midoriya and stuff? IT IS SOO FINE OF YOU CANT!! THANKS <3

•Midoriya is nice.

• He's /so/ fucking nice

• He has a nice smile

• His freckles are nice

• His attitude is great

• He goes out of his way to make sure people are okay

• Which makes it worse and pisses you off more.

• You've been jealous of him for awhile- please he's the center of attention for everyone

• But that isn't your problem

• He's the center of attention for your own dad.

• At least it seemed that way.

• Shota Aizawa, your father, was a teacher at U.A.

• He was bound to get attached to students, that's what teachers are supposed to do

• But..it felt like you were on the back burner and not enough

• when you develop your quirk, you dad gives you a speech

• You're first sucess with your quirk, your father tells you to work harder

• And that's all it ever is

• "work harder"

• "you should be farther along by now,"

• "this isn't a joke, why are you treating it that way?"

• there wasn't a good job or a congrats or praise

• But there was with midoryia

• who got all of it.

• he got good jobs and impresseds

• He got way to go kid and that was smart

• At the beginning of the year you liked him

• He was friendly and funny and he seemed like a cool dude

• He was a cool dude and you hated him- yourself even more for that

• You couldn't ever hate him, not truly.

• Not even when your father praised him, took him under his wing, focused on him

• Even shinsou- you didn't hate him. You were great friends with him.

• But Midoriya irked you, even if you couldn't find it in you to talk behind his back or fuck him over

• Your jealousy for the boy only grew as your fathers praise to him grew and his words to you grew distanced.

• And yet you still thrived for the man's approval

• You wanted to be recognized

• You wanted validation

• You wanted praise and approval.

• You wanted love.

• You stopped speaking to Midoriya, completely. The poor boy didn't deserve a blow up from you, it wasn't his fault.

• Contact to him stopped. His conversation muted unless it was to the class Group Chat

• Your seat? Unfortunately still near him, was no longer an issue if you just ignored his presence

• If your group was hanging put with him that day, you'd skip with some dumb homework excuse.

• No one said anything

• Aside from shinsou that is.

• The smart-ass always had something to say

• "You can't just ignore your problems forever."

"I'm not, till talking to you."

"Funny. But seriously. He's going to question it if he hasn't already. Word gets around.."

• In all seriousness, shinsous worried. He's really worried.

• He's watching you distance yourself from people, from midoryia- hell the only reason the two of you still talk on a daily basis is because he forces it.

• You don't mind, of course, he know that. You did the same to him when his mental health had declined.

• But he sees you're doing it for validation

• Amd he knows Aizawas words aren't malicious. You're his kid, he's worried and wants you to survive over anyone else.

• Doesn't mean how he's going about it is right.

• and it isn't long before you start taking physical training to the max too.

• After class you train for hours until dinner.

• Sometines you miss it; sometimes you don't get home until much later.

• One day in particular though, you start training on a Saturday morning

• He tells you to be smart, keep hydrated and take breaks before he leaves for the day

• Only to come back at dusk to you still training

• "Quirks are currency shinsou,"

"That doesnt-"

"I have to get stronger, no one's going to want a weak hero"

"Y/N please- you've been out here all day. It's hot and muggy and you've barley eaten anything. You need breaks. You can't be a strong pro hero if you die of heat exhaustion." He takes your arm and pulled it down from the punching bag. "You're worrying me."

"I'm not strong enough," you mumble. "Dads right,"

• Eventually Midoriya starts to question why you're ignoring him

• He doesn't think he's done anything wrong

• Maybe he said the wrong thing? But what even is the wrong thing? What could he have said?

• After one particularly rough morning, you're struggling with something

• You're already pissed and ready for the day to be over.

• And it's only 10 in the fucking morning

• And Midoriya, desperate to heal what he once had with a friend (you), walks over to help

"Hey," he starts. "You look like you need some help?"

You pause, glancing in his direction for only a moment. "Go sit down," You mutter.

"I just want to help-"

"I don't need your fucking help. You are the LAST thing I need," you snap. "Who the fuck would /ever/ need you?" You grab your bag and shove him back, leaving the classroom.

The class quiets.

• Midoriya didn't deserve it, no. You knew that.

• You also knew that you weren't in the place to go back to school, so you didn't.

• You took the day off, wandering the streets of your prefecture

• Shinsous blowing up your phone

• Katsuki is too.

• Katsukis upset, you would be too if someone spoke to your friend that way

• Everyone else is too on edge to text you, they're worried though.

• Of course, they go to Aizawa.

• They tell him what happened and how you've been acting

• And he nods quietly and says he'll take care of it.

• Shinsou finally finds you at the Cafe you frequent and he quietly sits across from you

• "you should be in school," you mumble

"So should you."

It's quiet for a few moments before you speak again. "I think I'm going to leave U.A. Mom lives in Miyagi, they've got some nice highschools there. I talked to her over the phone last night."

"What? What no, you can't?"

"Why not, Hitoshi?"

"Because you're a hero-"

"I'm not. I'm not a fucking hero. I haven't made any successes while I've been here, I haven't developed anything, Dad was right."

"You dad was wrong. He's wrong. He's- He's worried one day you're not going to come home. Or when you do you won't be in one piece, so he's pushing you and pushing you," he took your hand gently. "You're strong. You're going to be a great hero. You've already accomplished more than you know."

"I blew up at Midoriya today," you slide him your drink and he takes a sip.

"I know." He nods. "But that's okay, we can deal with it later." He squeezed your hand.

"Yeah, later,"

• It's very much later by the time you reach your dorm.

• The day Shinsou moved to the 1A dorms was the day you'd rejoice

• Your bag is tossed to the side and you make your way to the kitchen and freeze.

• Aizawa is sitting at the table, facing you.

"Your friends are worried about you,"

Yous scoff. "Yeah I'm sure they are."

"Midoryias worried about you."

"I really don't care."

"You shouldn't have snapped at him." Aizawa sighs.

"Thats-" you take a deep breath. Of course he only cared about Midoriya. "Typical." You move to the fridge to get something to drink.

"I..apologize," he begins. "'It's come to my attention that I haven't exactly been the best father to you since your mother left,"

"You think?" You muttered.

"I'm worried. I'm scared."

You look up at him.

"The world is cruel. And I've lost so many students to hero work in the years I've taught, I wouldn't be able to handle it if I lost you to. But it seems I'm already down the path." He stood up and walked over to you. "You're my kid, I love you more than the moon and the stars, I want you to stay safe. Above everyone else, above all else, I want you to come home." He kisses your forehead.

"It'd be nice to get a good job every once in awhile. Everyone else does." You mutter, looking down.

"You are doing great, you know. I don't say it nearly enough but you impress me everyday."

• It's...a little awkward after that, neither of you know how to process emotion so after two days you just pretend like it never happened

• You quietly apologize to Midoriya and wall away before he can respond before pretending like that didn't happen either

• You're not expecting him to want to be your friend

• But he's very adamant on texting you, inviting you out, walking with you you to class

• 1A becomes whole again

• But Shota does ease up, you get the good jobs, the praise, the validation

• And you eat it up to be frank, you fucking love it.

[astrella-writes]

prompt | anonymous asked: Could I get some general relationship headcanons (with some fluff please!) for Chishiya, Arisu, and Kuina 🥺👉👈 let me know if you need a more specific ask! :)

warnings | written with the intention of female pronouns but can be read as gender neutral, very minor suggestive implications, mentions of alcohol, nicotine and eating habits, might be considered kinda cheesy oops, the use of the pet name ‘bunny’.

word count | 1.4K

author’s note | ‘m loving this request. this is written with the intention of it being pre-borderlands. 

Shuntarō Chishiya 

- Frequenting local cafes for routinely study dates. He helps you with topics that you may struggle on and you buy him the bizarre flavored ‘treat of the week’ as a thank you. He jokes around that you’re probably using him as a test subject, because who would order sweet potato brownies with the premise that they would taste good. Much to his surprise, they actually do.

- Visiting a cat cafe once, but not getting around to completing any work. The image of Chishiya cradling a fluffy kitten close to his chest and holding softened eye contact with it is now your permanent lock screen. He has a matching lock screen of you holding a kitten from under the armpits and touching noses with it.

- Learning new skills together. Chishiya is pretty much down for anything that he considers interesting enough. That’s how you ended up frustratingly trying to follow along to a complex origami cat tutorial at 2 in the morning as Chishiya worked quietly with his earbuds in, listening to a different tutorial. Only once he presented you with a perfect paper flower did you smile for the first time in the past hour, the frustration dissipating. That very flower has claimed its indefinite place on your bedside table, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

- Doing escape rooms together every so often. It baffles you to some degree how he figures things out so easily, but then again, you’ve known how smart your boyfriend was since the day you met so it shouldn’t really come as a surprise. You just can’t help but admire him, and voice these admirations out loud. Your compliments being the only ones which truly affect him.

- Despite how genius your boyfriend is, you remain concerned about the mental toll college might have on him. If he is stressed, he barely gives it away, but you’ve grown to read through his indifference and pick up when something is wrong - even if he’s attempting to hide it for your disburden. You allow him to de-stress in your arms, playing with the tips of his hair and speaking through what has got him so troubled.

- Late night dates that consist of trips to the corner store where you buy your favourite snacks and walk down to the beach together. It’s a relaxing way to wind down after a stressful week filled with work and college. If it’s not too cold that night, you substitute sitting on your usual bench for a stroll along the sand. If he finds a pretty seashell, Chishiya will give it to you wordlessly.

- He buys you a lot of small things that reminds him of you. A cute keychain he found by chance while buying groceries, splurging his money on a random claw machine because he spotted a plushie character from that show you really like, buying your favourite snacks to calm you down before a big exam that you’ve been studying really hard for. It’s the little things that show how much he really loves you.

Ryōhei Arisu

- Offering him a place to stay for a few days if he needs a break from his family, Arisu will pack up his gaming laptop along with him and you two will game with each other side by side. He anticipates the moment you rest your head on his shoulder and once you do, he rests his own head upon yours with a small: “you tired, bunny?”

- Being extremely supporting and non-judgemental on the topic of him getting a job. You search listings almost daily and send any promising ones through to him, leaving an encouraging message afterwards in hopes he gets the right intention. You care for him deeply and don’t want to see his father eventually kicking him out the house for being unemployed and making the situation ten times more difficult for him.

- Helping him get out more and introducing him to places he quickly grows to love. A quaint coffee shop with a grassy roof hidden deep within the cracks that he never would have found if it weren’t for you. It’s become your usual spot for dates, and Arisu enjoys the tranquility of it all.

- Going on trips to the game store together, even though Arisu usually just buys all his games online, and he’s pretty sure you do too. Regardless, it’s an excuse to meet up and hang out for a few hours after, something he’s found has become more enthralling than gaming. 

- Staying up on video call into the late hours of the night as you both battle it out on some mmorpg. You’re confused when you see his idle avatar and look over at your phone screen to find him staring at you in a trance. It catches you off guard at first, but seeing him snap back to reality upon getting caught and getting all flustered left you replaying the scene over in your head for days later.

- Dates to the arcade, because of course. You two definitely hog a specific game with a line of pouting children waiting impatiently to get their chance. Arisu only agrees to move on when you mention a new game you spotted earlier. There is no new game, you just feel bad for the kids. Once he’s caught on, you merely give his lips a quick peck and you’re instantly forgiven.

- Playing in one of those immersive game machines with the curtains on both sides, only for Arisu to stare at you dumbly, leaving you a flustered and confused mess. This usually leads to a one-sided lean in and a small make out, only for an innocent kid to pull back the curtain and run away mortified. Their screams are the highlight of your boyfriend’s day, and you swear he’s holding some mental record of how many kids he traumatize through doing this.

Hikari Kuina

- Working at the same clothing store and having Kuina intervene whenever you’re faced with a rude customer. She might not be all too friendly if they insulted you, and if getting fired is the cost of standing up for you, then so be it. You’d quit alongside her and find some place new to work.

- Helping tend to her sickly mother in hospital, whom you had made speechless upon your first visit. She was delightfully thrilled upon finally being introduced to her daughter’s significant other, Kuina sharing to you afterwards that she hadn’t seen her mother smiling so brightly in a long time. You always present her mother with gifts upon each visit, whether it be flowers or a small cake. She’s become like your own mother, and so you help pay towards hospital bills as well.

- Comforting Kuina if she ever gets upset about her past (especially her relationship with her father) or her mother’s current poor health. You make her feel so valid; it leaves her a sobbing mess in your arms as you comfort her with soothing strokes and affectionate mumbles. Once her wailing has calmed, you offer to make her favourite - hot chocolate topped with cream.

- Constant sleepovers, which include wearing face masks, ordering takeout, watching some sappy romance before switching it over to an action movie and sipping on some cheap beer. The buzz of the alcohol always makes you more daring as you suggest showering together, and you’re never turned down by your equally audacious girlfriend. 

- Helping her overcome her nicotine addiction and being the initial person to suggest chewing on a dummy cigarette whenever she felt the urge to smoke. Her mother couldn’t thank you enough for getting her into this, expressing her hidden fear of having to watch Kuina smoke herself into ill health or worse, a premature grave. 

- In return, she looks out for your own well-being: reaching out to hold your hand before you both cross the street, showing up with lunch the next day at work if she thinks you haven’t been eating as much lately, keeping headache pills in her bag ever since you complained about a migraine that one time, keeping an extra umbrella in the break room just in case it rains later that day and you’ll need one.

- It’s never a dull moment dating Kuina, always planning fun and exciting dates like getting drunk in a private karaoke room only for it to lead to sloppy make outs. The one time she was so insistent on riding the kiddies train at the amusement park, only for the both of you to fall off once you reached the sharp bend in the tracks. It left you both a giggling mess, but the pain afterwards definitely made the whole situation regrettable. 

[emmyhem]

always (l.r.h)

a/n: hi everyone! this is a lil angsty piece i wanted to get up. i just want to say again how sorry i am for not getting anything up for the past two weeks, i’ve just been overwhelmed with some stuff for my classes, but i am starting to get back in the swing of things now. also, this is unedited as i was rushing to get it up in time. i do plan on posting something else tomorrow night and hopefully i’ll be posting pretty consistently from now on. also this does end kind of abruptly but i wanted to leave it like that because i’m a sucker for angst, with that being said i would be happy to write a part two if that’s something you’d be interested in. anyway, feedback and comments are appreciated as always and i hope you’re all having an amazing day/night. enjoy! - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader 

summary: luke recounts his mistake and hopes he can patch things up with his always. 

warnings:  very brief mention of sex, cursing, mentions of alcohol, luke’s being an asshole, mention of pinching (idk), slight insecurity from the reader, lots of angst :( 

word count: 2.6k

Luke had always hated the quiet. That’s when his thoughts were the loudest. That must be why he had never really liked being alone with himself. 

Tonight in particular, his thoughts were practically screaming, one word over and over again. 

“Y/n”

For the past two years that name had acted as his most favorite word, one that he would utter whenever he had gotten the chance. Whether it be to brag about your recent accomplishments to his friends, to catch your attention from another room, or falling from his lips with a sigh of pleasure as he reached completion with you laying breathlessly beneath him. 

Now the word seemed torturous, the last time he uttered it replaying on a relentless loop in his head. 

It was your 2nd anniversary. Dinner had been laid out on the table for an hour. Two glasses of wine sat untouched in front of a vase of roses you had picked out at the florist earlier that morning, and there was no sign of Luke. 

You were wracking through your brain as you watched a petal fall from a rose and land lightly in one of the glasses. 

Had you gotten the time wrong? 

But you were sure that the two of you had agreed on 8:00 for dinner, that way you had time to get everything ready after getting home from work, and Luke wouldn’t have to rush to leave the studio. 

Yet somehow you found yourself staring at the now cold dinner at 9:30, with absolutely no word from Luke. You wanted to call, if for no other reason than to check he was still alive and breathing, but your nerves stopped you from doing that, not wanting to take on the role of the overbearing girlfriend. 

Your stomach growled hungrily over the light music that was playing through the house speakers. So, begrudgingly you took a bite of the pasta on your plate before downing your entire glass of wine. 

Luke arrived home about 2 hours later, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. He caught sight of the table, with one setting completely untouched as he hung up his coat, causing guilt to pang in his chest. 

“Baby,” he called out, carrying himself to your shared bedroom.

When no response came his heart rate sped up in fear that you had left. 

“Y/n” he called, louder this time with a sense of urgency clear in his voice.  

That’s when he spotted a person sized lump underneath the duvet. Releasing a sigh of relief he moved towards you, peeling the blankets off and leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

This caused you to stir a bit, eyes fluttering open to meet him. 

“Hi, my love.” he cooed. 

A frown was prominent on your face, and a crease separated your eyebrows as they furrowed angrily. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. We got a bit carried away in the studio, but in good news the album is coming along great. M’so excited for you to hear it” 

You had always tried to be understanding of Luke’s job for many reasons. One being that you both reaped the benefit of his success, you wanted for essentially nothing, had a nice house, the opportunity to travel, and Luke often spoiled you with gifts even if you asked him not to. Another being how happy it made your boyfriend. Music truly was his passion, and he was so talented that you wouldn’t want for him to ever put his work on the back burner for you. 

With that being said, you made a point to take time off to spend time with him whenever you were able to. You had even changed jobs because your last one hadn’t allowed you to go on tour with him, which he had been adamant about, insisting, “There’s no way I can be away from you for that long.” 

And you were happy to do all of those things, because you were in love, and  you felt incredibly lucky to even be a part of his world. But you did start to question things as your relationship went on. It felt like Luke didn’t even consider your job. He only saw it as something that took you away from him. 

You had worked hard to get where you were in the occupational field. Without your job all you would have to do is sit around and wait for Luke to be ready for you, and you just couldn’t live like that. 

Luke turned on the lamp on your nightstand as you slowly sat up in bed. 

“2 weeks Luke, we’ve had these plans for two weeks.” 

“I know baby I tried, but you know how it is when inspiration strikes.” he dismissed while sitting the flowers on the ground. 

“No, I don’t. Do you not think that I have things I could be doing for work? Cause I do, and I choose this over all of that.” you huffed in frustration. 

Luke took a deep breath while subtly rolling his eyes. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry for missing dinner, but you don’t understand the pressure I’m under, from the fans, the label, management, and the band.” 

“I know that you work hard and I know how important this is to you, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m proud of us too and I would’ve liked to have a night for just us.” you tried to explain. “Not to mention the fact that I’m under pressure in my job too and I always find time for you, no matter what.” 

“Yea, you have pressure from a job that you don’t need.” his voice rising in anger with each word as he paced around the room. 

“How many times do I have to tell you Luke? It’s my job, it’s a part of my life and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon.” you shouted. 

“Great.” he replied sarcastically. “Then you should understand that I won’t give up my job anytime soon.” 

“I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking for a bit of consideration, and just a sliver of your time.” 

“I’m working to make us more money.” he stated.

“Luke, we don’t need any more money. You should be working because you enjoy it and because it’s your passion.”

He let out a condescending laugh before turning to look in your eyes. 

“Yea, well you don’t seem to mind all the money when you're sitting at home in the house that I bought, and leeching off of my bank account on the daily. D’ya think you could afford all the shit you have just based on your salary?” he spat crudely. 

You physically leaned back as if the words had just actually been thrown at you. They must’ve, because the pain they caused felt far too real to just be emotional. You opened your mouth to fight back, to scream, to do something but the lump in your throat prevented anything to come out other than a sad, and pathetic squeak. 

Was that what he thought about you? 

This had caught you completely off guard. Sure, you were expecting an argument, you’d even say you were expecting a big one, but you would’ve never guessed he would throw this in your face. 

You felt betrayed. It had always made you insecure that you were making such little money compared to your boyfriend. 

Some days after receiving your paycheck you would go out and spend it all on Luke, solely because you wanted to know that you could contribute too. You would do that whenever you got the chance, to reassure that your work was important, and valid. And mainly to show Luke that you appreciated all he did for you. 

He would always reply, “You don’t have to do this, love. I like spoiling my girl.” 

Yeah right. 

“I wasn’t, I m-mean I don’t try to lee-,” you paused, the word feeling too gross to repeat back. 

“Well, you do whether you're trying or not so the least you can do is give me a break occasionally.” he spoke casually, while changing into sweats as if he wasn’t ripping you apart with every word. 

You kept a blank stare at the bedroom door, your eyes already stinging with unshed tears. You wished you could be angrier but his words left you questioning and feeling guilty. 

As hard as you’d tried to provide for yourself and make your own way you couldn’t help but wonder if you had subconsciously started leaning on him, more than you had ever wanted. 

Luke continued getting ready for bed, not taking a second look at you since hitting you with his harsh words. 

“I-I’m sorry.” you croaked. 

“It’s fine, Y/n I just wish you could’ve been slightly more understanding.” he continued, still not facing you. 

“I think that maybe, I mean, um I gotta go.” you were speaking through tears, as you abruptly stood from the bed and hurried to leave the room. 

This caught Luke’s attention causing him to spin in your direction at lightning speed, finally taking in your emotional state.

“Going? Going where? I-what are you talking about?” 

You didn’t reply, grabbing your keys, bag, and shoes as you continued to speed to the front door. 

“Y/n!” he continued, following closely behind you. 

You paused at the front door and turned to meet his eyes. His stressed appearance subsided as you allowed him the opportunity to talk. 

“You’re upset.” he concluded, reaching a hand out to hold your cheek.

You leaned away from his touch and shook your head lightly, “M’not.” 

His features softened and he took another step closer to you, “You are. I’m sorry, I was harsh.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t know?” 

“I don’t want t-to leech” you stuttered out. 

This rendered Luke speechless, realizing how cruel his words had been. You had taken this as an opportunity to exit the house, quickly running to your car. Luke made it to the driveway just in time to see you drive away. 

“Fuck” he snapped, jogging back towards the house to get his phone and call you in hopes of convincing you to come back. 

After calling you at least 20 times with no response he conceded and decided he should try and get some sleep, that way he was rested enough to get you to forgive him in the morning. 

His body fell naturally to his side of the bed, but his eyes lingered on where you typically laid. 

Rolling onto his back, eyes finding the ceiling he muttered to himself, “I’m an idiot.” 

Eventually he was tiring out, the bedroom ceiling growing extremely boring after staring for so long. He turned on his side to hug your pillow to his chest. As his hand slid under the pillow it came into contact with an envelope that had been hidden underneath. 

He sat up and flicked on a lamp to read the front, “To my Lu” 

He could tell that you had taken your time penciling on your words, each letter was flawless and written delicately. Before ripping it open he hesitated, questioning whether or not he even deserved to see what was inside after the way he spoke to you. The selfish part of his brain won for the second time that night. 

The first thing he saw after opening was two airline tickets situated just in front of a folded piece of notebook paper. 

He held his breath as he brought them into the light, two roundtrip business tickets to Sydney. 

He rushed to read the note you had left with them, unfolding it quickly. 

“Lu, 

Happy two years, my love. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to call you mine for this long. Not a day goes by where I’m not in complete and utter awe of you and everything you do for me. I know how hard you work and how much you miss home and your family while you continue to grow in your music, and in yourself everyday. I know these aren’t the best tickets you’ve ever had by any means or the most extravagant vacation you’ve taken, but I wanted to show you how much I love you and how much I know you deserve, and need a break. We have 2 weeks, we leave tomorrow. I’ve worked it all out with the guys and your label. I know this is just a small way to repay you for the way you’ve taken care of me and the way you’ve loved me so selflessly for so long but I hope it shows you just a sliver of how much I love you. 

Yours always, 

               Y/n” 

He traced the letters of your name repeatedly as he blinked back a few stinging tears, before falling asleep, the note clutched tightly to his chest. 

That was a week, and about 100 missed calls ago.

About two days after you left, your friend had called to let him know that you were safe and staying with her for the time being. It had slightly lessened his worry, but the guilt he felt grew exponentially each day he had no reason to say your name.

He had claimed your side of the bed as his own in hopes that it would bring you closer to him. When he had finally dragged himself out of bed to shower he used your body wash and as embarrassing as it sounds nearly cried when the room was flooded with the familiar rose scented steam. And tonight while scouring through the liquor cabinet and feeling completely sorry for himself he had come across a bottle of tequila that you had purchased on your most recent vacation. 

Luke had put a serious dent in it by the time he was done scrolling through all of his pictures of you, and his finger began to itch with the need to call you. 

Through blurry and clouded eyes he located your contact, a breath hitching in his throat when he clicked the call button. 

With each unanswered ring he pinched his wrist, willing himself to wake up and discover this was all just some horrible nightmare, that he would just roll over and see you curled up next to him, warm, and sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect. 

“You’ve reached y/n. Sorry I can’t get to the phone, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks” 

But it’s not his nightmare that got him here, it’s his mistake. 

“Y/n,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he hasn’t used it much in the past couple of days. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his heart was pounding and his intoxication numbed him from the feeling of  the hot tears that streamed down his face as he continued. “M’selfish baby. I’m so selfish and I was talking out of my ass that night, of course you’re not leeching. That’s fucking ridiculous, you couldn’t be, I give you nothing compared to what you give me. I just don’t know how to admit I’m wrong and the money is bullshit, it doesn’t matter, we could both live without it.”  his chest felt tight as he took a large gulp of air. “I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby. I need you with me, and I want to fucking give you the world and I know you don’t need me to give it to you. I want to. I just-I want to give you everything, anything. You can have it all. It’s yours. I’m yours, alwa-”  his pleads were cut off by the dial tone. 

“Always.” he repeated, staring at the black screen. 

pt. 2

[3wisellamas]

Giant Sweet Cap’n Cakes Headcanon Masterpost!

(Fun fact, I thought most of these up while on one REALLY long hike.  ^^;  You can tell I fell for these three pretty hard.)

Music:

-I like the idea that, while the three all share a love of hip hop, glitch hop, electronic music in general, and a little lo-fi for chill times, they all have different tastes outside of those.  (Meaning if you pass them the aux cord, they WILL argue!)

-Sweet's actually the biggest audiophile of the group, with by far the most eclectic tastes; he will literally put together playlists that go from dubstep to heavy metal to classical to rap to vaporwave to even country.  The others don't really get it, but they're cool with whatever he puts on, and learn a lot of new music from him!

-He also owns an electric guitar, which he just plugs into himself to use as an amp and plays early in the morning to wake the others up if needed (he's the early riser and the other two are night owls...)

-Cap'n's definitely got a more narrow focus than the other two; he likes rap and also R&B, jazz, and even a little swing/electro swing.  He's also been caught more than once listening to cheesy romantic pop songs, claiming he's just into them for their potential madamoizel-attracting uses but really he's just a sappy romantic.

-He can also rap, very well in fact, and gets Sweet to beatbox while he freestyles. 

-Heck, he's just got a good singing voice in general, helped by having a built-in autotune, and dominates at karaoke!

-K_K also has a really broad range, but stays more towards the electronic end of the spectrum -- melodic dubstep, synthpop, disco, trance, chiptune, DnB, even occasionally puts on straight-up ambient spa music to chill out to (the only genre the other two will NOT tolerate.)

-K_K has also, in the past, set up entire mini-raves just by themselves, complete with glowsticks and everything, while Cap'n and Sweet were out doing whatever.  They were...not pleased, when they got back, mostly because they weren't invited.  All three got to have one together eventually though.  

-Physical media is king in their shop; if it's not on a CD, cassette tape, or a vinyl record (or an 8-track, though they have to dig out their old player for it), they will refuse to play it, and might even ask you to leave.  "MP3" is an extremely dirty word to them.

-(In fact, they don't get along too well with the MP3 player-headed robots elsewhere in the city.)

-They are indeed always listening to music on physical media as well -- K_K and Cap'n are their own CD players (though Cap'n's one of those models that's also got a built-in FM radio), while Sweet has a straight-up Walkman.    

-(He's also the group's cassette champion, claiming his media of choice is superior to CDs because you can record music on BOTH sides of the tape!  The other two just don't have the heart to point out that each side only holds half as much music as a CD, and you don't even have to rewind those...)

-Jury's still out on Hit Clips.  Cap'n and Sweet think they're just toys, but K_K genuinely collects and appreciates them and treats them like actual music (it helps that they are only around four seconds long!)

-Believe it or not, the headphones are only decoration, all three actually just...listen to their music entirely within their own heads, though they can also switch to playing it externally on their speakers as well.  Perks of being robots!  Though, sometimes K_K has his internal volume up too high, and misses things that other people say because of it.

-Sweet also has an input port, and connects himself to his turntable to act as the speakers!  The other two are WAY too embarrassed to ask if they can use it as well.

-Sweet can play almost any instrument you throw at him, as long as it's not a woodwind (Surprisingly, he can do brass, since those work on vibration rather than air!).  He prefers his guitar or violin when he isn't spinning records on his turntable.  Where the other two just enjoy music, he's the actual trained musician.

Voice headcanons:

-Sweet:  Kind of deep, bass-y, lots of reverb, a slight tinny audio distortion to it like a low-quality recording that becomes much more pronounced when he gets upset or starts shouting.  And since he's a speaker, you can literally feel the vibrations he makes when he's speaking!

-Cap'n:  Scout from TF2.  I am sorry, but I absolutely cannot get that out of my head for him.  XD  However, he's actually putting that voice on as an "accent" of sorts, his real voice is actually super autotune-y like K_K's, and it comes out whenever he gets flustered, his pitch only getting higher and higher as it gets worse...

-K_K:  Pure autotune, he can just do whatever the hell he wants with his voice -- pitch, tone, whatever, and while he tends to keep it a little higher he can and does change it to fit his mood!  He often has a completely different voice every day, but the others are used to it.  He also just straight-up vocalizes sound effects (like, the kind that make you go "How did you just make that sound with your mouth?!") and can mimic other people perfectly (though the slight mechanical distortion does give it away).  There are absolutely no rules when it comes to K_K's voice.

-They harmonize perfectly whenever they sing together! 

Sweet:

-I like to think Sweet's actually the brains of the group; like, not SMART, he just holds their one collective braincell most often.  He does any technical work when they're building stuff, like soldering circuits or the occasional programming, and even handles a lot of the actual business operations and pays the bills.  The other two also like to follow his lead when it comes to rebellion plans, even if he’s not the official leader.

-That said, though?  It's balanced out by him being rather hotheaded and having the shortest temper by a lot.  There are REASONS why he's not usually out selling bagels with the others -- he's unfortunately prone to some more "extreme" sales tactics, like hurling half their stock at random passersby until they finally agree to buy some.  On the plus side, he's always the first to step up to defend the gang from anything that dares to harm them, and is always on guard.

-He can also hold a heck of a grudge -- don't ever get on his bad side!  Cap'n and K_K are mostly immune to this though, if he gets upset with them he works through it by the end of the day.  It helps that they can all hug it out.

-He's a bit of a perfectionist, often working overtime to try and get everything they build exactly right.  He can get really frustrated when things don't work out the way he plans, or when he can't make sense of a problem, or when Cap'n and K_K are goofing off instead of doing their part, and needs to go blast some loud music and blow off steam.

-He does have a really tough time keeping his balance, since his head is a bit heavier than the rest of his body, but he takes tripping over his own feet constantly in stride.  The biggest problem he has is with dancing -- while he'll join in with the others on occasion, he can't match their more acrobatic moves and sticks more to actually PLAYING the music they're dancing to.

-He's also really, really unlucky, just in general.  He actually considers the other two his good luck charms, since they help him out whenever he trips or gets into a bad spot!

-He's the fashionista of the group, surprisingly.  It's difficult for him to find clothes that fit his body, so he tends to get a little creative with it and has a whole closet full of different stuff!  And since Cap'n is roughly the same size they'll occasionally swap jackets.

Cap’n:

-Cap'n actually has managed to score a handful of dates with girls in the past!  However, NONE of them went well, and only one actually made it to the second date (only to break up right in the middle of it), so he always ends up returning home heartbroken and in tears.  Sweet and K_K, by this point just ready for it whenever they hear that he's going out that night, always dry him off before he shorts himself out, take him to bed and cuddle with him (platonically, I don't see them as brothers but I also don't see them as having that conversation until Cap'n's ready, which he clearly is NOT), remind him that it doesn't hurt forever and he isn't unlovable and that he'll find someone eventually, etc.

-They have sat him down multiple times to try and gently suggest to Cap'n that he might just not be into women?  And that he’s actually turning them off by trying so hard?  To which he's always just like "No, of course not.  I'm straight.  Love the ladies.  Totally.  Oh no they didn't catch me checkin' out that one dude earlier did they?  Is that what this is about?!"

-(Basically, Cap'n is just a hopeless romantic in love with the idea of being in love, but is absolutely clueless as to how it works or what he actually wants, and his best buds are always there to catch him when he falls.  ;v; )

-The glasses are prescription -- he's SUPER nearsighted, a hardware glitch he refuses to fix.  Sometimes when he's working on something close up he'll take them off, panicking when he can't find them afterwards, only to have the others point out that they're just on his head.  He’s also got non-tinted glasses, but you will not catch him DEAD wearing those unless it’s an absolute emergency.

-This dude is SUPREMELY insecure with himself.  Like, his rather questionable fixation on romance aside, he basically runs off of others' validation, the "cool" persona he's spent much of his life building up being how he hides the fact that he isn't really sure who he is, or what he wants to do with his life, or what he's even good for -- the others have learned to check on him now and then whenever he hides away in the back of the shop, since he can slip into some pretty dark places when left alone to sulk.  It took a long time for him to open up even to them to share his feelings, and sometimes still has doubts about whether they or anyone else really care about him as more than just The Smooth One...

-He's the only one of the three to actually enjoy the occasional silence, especially when he's trying to think, or whenever he's upset.  So, his headphones also serve a dual purpose -- they're noise-cancelling!

-He's the video guy, carrying around a small camcorder and constantly trying to record the group's activities, to put together into music videos!  He also just likes to record himself doing stupid stunts for posterity, though K_K just takes these and makes (affectionate) blooper reels.

-Cap'n is not his real name, similar to K_K.  However, unlike K_K, he refuses to say what it is, just that it's embarrassing.

K_K:

-K_K has a bad habit of just completely zoning out when he gets into his music, getting completely lost in the groove and needing to be pulled back to reality.  It's not a bad thing during jam sessions, but at work, or in the middle of a battle...not so much.

-He kind of needs to have some kind of music going at all times -- silence drives him absolutely CRAZY!  Though, because he gets distracted by his own music, he then misses out on entire conversations, only tuning back in towards the end.  Sometimes the other two have to repeat or summarize what they just said for him.

-He knows sign language, and taught the others to use it.  They're able to communicate reasonably well no matter how loud their shop gets, or on days when K_K isn't able to form words properly (he's just shy, and even when he isn't he gets tongue-tied a LOT).

-He's easily the best dancer of the three, and uses his extendable body to get really creative with his moves!  He even knows a little ballroom, somehow, which he'll pull out sometimes to make the others laugh.

-(Seriously, K_K CANNOT stand to see Sweet or Cap'n not smiling.  He'll do anything to keep the group's spirits up, usually cracking jokes during a scrap project or doing little favors, and they appreciate all his efforts!)

-K_K has the WORST sleep cycle, ever.  If you let him, he will stay up all night working or partying, finally going to bed at 6AM, and will then sleep until 6PM if the others don't wake him up at some point.  If they know he was up really late they'll let him sleep in a little, but he's often pretty sleep-deprived and running solely on sugar and caffeine, which doesn't help his natural loopiness.  

-He is a VERY physical guy.  Seriously, he will just scoop up and hold Sweet or Cap'n like a cat every five minutes; at first they were just like "Oh.  Okay.  We're hugging now I guess," but after a while they got more used to it and even anticipate when K_K is going to do it.  And he also initiates tons of snuggles and gives piggyback rides whenever one of his bandmates (usually Sweet) requests.  

-K_K actually scrapbooks, collecting pictures and little mementos of places he and the others have gone and things they've done.  After the library fountain is sealed, he pulls them out to show everyone else from Cyber City and reminisce about home.

-It's very hard to make K_K angry, since he tends to stay super chill and brushes off almost everything.  But, on those very, very rare occasions when something does get under his metal outer casing, he'll go full-on silent treatment, not speaking to anyone for up to a week as he sulks and stomps around the junk shop, and even refuses to play any music!  And no amount of sweets or hugs or cheering up will bring him out of it, either; the other two have learned to just wait him out and let him have his space, letting him come to them when he's finally ready to talk about it.

Misc:

-Though all three love everything sweet, K_K's the only one who really goes overboard with it, making whole meals out of candy.  Sweet, ironically enough, actually prefers more salty/savory snacks, while the less is said about Cap'n's hot sauce addiction, the better.

-Okay, actually, I will say more about it.  Cap'n loves spicy food in general, and literally drinks tabasco sauce right from the bottle.  However, he's got a bad habit of daring himself to eat hotter and hotter stuff, ESPECIALLY if someone is watching, and can easily get in WAY over his head before begging for milk.

-They also all totally drink battery acid like Queen.

-Heck, being both Darkners and robots, they can really eat literally anything.  Normal food, milk, oil, batteries, gallons of pure sugar, toothpaste, moss, glitter (NEVER let K_K get hold of any though, he gets lost in the sauce), broken glass, etc, and of course their own deep-fried CDs.  Only thing they can't do is water, since, you know, robots.

-With a lot of the aesthetics of Cyber City being close to turn-of-the millennium and early 2000s (CDs and boomboxes, popup ads, wired mice, Queen theorized to be one of those see-through iMacs, EVERYTHING about Spamton), I like the idea that the boys DO NOT have smartphones, and if you handed them one they'd have no clue how to use it or what to do with it.  But they do have cell phones:  Sweet's got an old flip phone covered in stickers (courtesy of K_K), Cap'n splurged for one of those that slide open and with a camera (he set his background to a tiny, grainy photo of the three of them!), and K_K has one of those indestructible Nokia bricks, that Sweet got him after he kept breaking all his other ones.  They can all text, but that's about as high-tech as they get.

-Same with tablets or newer computers in general, they might share one tiny netbook at most.  Cap’n never remembers to log out of his Dark World dating profile, so the others will snoop or post embarrassing things to it.

-They're really, really durable, even without milk -- they're made of 90s plastic and electronics, so it takes a LOT to take one of them down!  Plus, they regularly repair each other back at the shop (it took a LONG time for them to gain enough trust to physically open and work on each other), so as long as at least one's left to drag the other two to safety they'll be just fine.

-However, if they get splashed with water, caught in the rain, or worse, drowned, they will short out, or shut down on the spot to prevent damage.  Once they completely dry out, though, they'll start right back up, no worse for wear.  When only one of them gets waterlogged the other two will break out the hair dryers to dry them out faster, or even pop them into the oven in a pan of rice like an iPod that got dropped in the toilet...

Finally, backstory?

-Cap'n and K_K met first -- maybe both as new recruits to another, much less savory gang of music equipment robots, and bonded as a result of being put upon by the more established members (Cap'n probably even had to defend K_K more than once when his inattentiveness got him into trouble!)  But, they both had enough one day, and decided to break off and form their own thing, making music and selling CD bagels to support themselves.

-Sweet, meanwhile, has the complete opposite background, coming from a rich and important family of musicians in Cyber City who regularly entertained Queen in her mansion (hence why he always used to get sweets from her!)  But, he was kind of the black sheep, preferring his own style of music, and decided to strike out on his own as a street musician instead.

-They met when Cap'n and K_K accidentally set up to sell bagels on Sweet's usual corner, and he battled them to reclaim his turf.  But, they were evenly-matched (even two-to-one; Sweet's definitely the strongest of the trio!), and impressed each other with both their fighting and musical skills, so Sweet decided to join their tiny group, and thus Sweet Cap'n Cakes was formed.  

-After the whole situation with Queen is resolved, SCC turns their rebellion into an anti-DRM kind of thing?  Nobody can hold back the music, man!