#i love little flaws especially in teeth!!

[izvmimi]

stubborn - izuku x reader

cw: infidelity as a topic, escalating mind games, jealousy, tbh toxic behavior but it’s okay cuz uwu, fem!reader, smut (oral female receiving, use of the word ‘brat’, penetrative sex). 5.6k words. summary: izuku is as good at playing games as you are, or is he? a/n: a repost!

Izuku is far too placid when in the midst of an argument, you blurt out that you’re officially done with him. 

In fact, there’s the ghost of a smile that flickers on his features, and you know that smile. It’s the same smile he gives you when he teases you, especially when he’s balls deep inside you and you’re whining about how little more you can take while he coos and reminds you that you can give him just a little more room, the same way you’ve done many times before, right? 

It’s the smile that signals that he is in no way taking you seriously, that he knows you are completely and utterly wrapped. Your teeth clench and so do your fists.

“Midoriya.”

His eyebrows raise. From his vantage point, you look as cute as usual, eyebrows knit together and lips twisted into a snarl. It reminds him somewhat of an angry prey animal, he thinks, and he’s resisting the urge to pat you on the head.

“Yes, baby?”

He makes the mistake of widening his grin as he says this and defeated, you let out a cry of frustration, blood rushing to your ears and heart thumping as you rush out of the living room. There’s a loud slam that sounds once you’ve reached the bedroom and the hero is left alone to consider his actions. 

Izuku tolerates a lot from you, he thinks. It doesn’t mean he thinks he’s always right and does manage to begrudgingly accept his shortcomings, but the jealousy, the mood swings, and the neediness can sometimes get to him, even if they’re flaws you wear cutely. Giving you a moment to simmer down and letting the argument replay in his head, he lets out a sigh and settles on the couch to take off his boots. If you were out here, you’d complain about getting his sweaty suit off your furniture, but you’re not here, are you?

Izuku doesn’t think too much of the situation until he’s fully showered and knocks on the door to change into comfortable pajamas, only to find that the door is unlocked, you are laying on your stomach with your feet kicking, positively giddy, and in deep focus on your phone. Thinking that the argument has dissipated - you’re never mad at him for more than a couple hours anyway - he lets himself approach and decides against laying his entire weight on top of you, instead choosing to lay behind you, eyes on your form. You’re pretending you don’t even notice him.

“What’s got you giggling so much?” He finally asks, curiously turning to the side and resting his head on your shoulder. You don’t move sharply, instead allowing yourself to support the weight.

“I’m finding my replacement.”

He holds in a sigh that nearly rattles his bones.

“You can’t be serious.”

At that, you turn immediately, eyes wide, classic crazy look in your eyes. He purses his lips. 

You are definitely serious.

Before he can even begin to reason you, you excitedly show your phone to him, scrolling through a list of matches you’ve already procured for him, despite the fact that you could not possibly have been working on this for more than an hour.

“You’re quite popular, Mr. Number One Hero!” you chirp.

He rolls onto his back and grabs a pillow and screams lightly into it for a moment, before turning back to face you calmly. 

“Please delete this.”

“Why? I have three dates lined up for you over the next two weeks.” You pout. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint these lovely women, would you, Mr. Midoriya?”

There’s a nervous tick in his jaw at the polite appellation but he can see the glint in your eyes. Two can play this game.

“You’re right, and I trust you, darling,” he says, lips curling into a teasing grin. He rolls over onto his belly, pulling off the small towel that wraps around his waist and tosses it to the side, a motion that engages the muscles of his back just enough that you can pretend you don’t see them ripple. You try not to look at his ass because you’re angry. You are so, so angry.

“Give me the schedule and I’ll go. I don’t think they’ll manage to be as lovely as you, but I’ll try my best.” His green eyes twinkle as he watches you not look, then places a hand on the small of your back, and the contact almost shocks through your spine. 

You get up immediately and leave the room, ignoring his low chuckle as you hide the warmth blooming in your face.

—

Midoriya cannot believe he’s actually seated at a mom and pop restaurant at the end of the week with a woman he’s never met in his entire life. You had actually called his bluff at calling your bluff, and had even gone so far as to lay out his clothes in the morning and adjust the collar of his shirt.

“Can we not do this?” He had asked right before leaving the house. You’d simply smiled sweetly, venomously. 

“Real love awaits, sir!” You flashed him a thumbs up and the genuine way in which your teeth gleamed almost struck fear in his heart. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

His entire way to the location, he had been considering what manner of trap this was. Would there be cameras? Kirishima, who was like an older brother to you waiting to beat his ass (even though he wasn’t completely sure what he did wrong and arguably may have done nothing wrong aside from being extraordinarily busy for the past two weeks)?

But alas, rather than a trap, or you in a different outfit, there was an admittedly beautiful young woman who smiled shyly back at him as he took his seat.

The first thing he does is tell the truth.

“Hi, um, yeah so…” he scratches his head. “Let me explain a couple things first before there’s any misunderstanding…” 

His voice trails off as he notices the slight distress in her features, but decides it’s better to hurt her feelings now than later.

“I was not the one managing my Tinder profile. Whatever may have been said to you was not said by me and-”

She nods emphatically and he stops. “Wait, you know what I’m about to say?”

“Yeah, your profile says it’s managed by your ex-girlfriend and we chatted a bit through messages.”

There’s a little bit of heat that reaches his ears, not pleasant heat at all, but mild irritation. He presses his lips together as she continues.

“She said something about wanting to make sure she set you up with someone better than her since you won’t accept your breakup.”

Izuku’s eye twitches but he smiles peacefully and takes a sip of his coffee.

“She said you were a very sweet guy though so I’m assuming you’re on good terms?” The young lady laughs coyly, a hand covering her mouth as she does. Coquettish, he thinks, then he remembers how you literally said you’d set him up with someone cute and coquettish and his heart starts to race.

“We’re on excellent terms,” he says finally, breathing through his nose, then takes a look at the menu. 

She giggles a bit and it annoys him because none of this is funny. Not for a second.

“She chose really good pictures,” the woman says softly, who Izuku recalls from the schedule you had the nerve to send him is named Sachiko, reaching for her glass of water. Izuku mirrors the action because his throat is suddenly terribly dry.

He clears his throat. You’ve gone too far.

“What would you like to order?” Izuku asks in his most charming voice.

—

“You didn’t take her home?” You ask, voice dripping of malice, curled up into the bedsheets of your California King. He considers shooting you a dirty look but he doesn’t; rather he strips painfully slowly and again you avert your eyes. This time he doesn’t laugh at your ridiculous attempt to pretend you don’t find him attractive, and instead, he stands stark naked in his underwear, arms crossed and feet squared as though you are an actual adversary. Maybe you enjoy being the villain in his story for once. 

You look up from your book, noticing his stillness in your peripheral vision. He looks good when he’s angry, you think, his face twisted into a scowl and breathing a little heavier than usual. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, then bid him to speak.

“What?” 

He shakes his head, like he can’t believe he’s really saying what he has to say next.

“First of all, I don’t fuck on the first date.” You tilt your head ever so slightly with a mock inquisitive look that bids him to go on.

“Don’t look at me like that, if I did, we absolutely would have,” he replies flippantly. You pretend to disregard that sentence. Then it hits you. We, as in you and him or we as in, he and her?

“Second of all, you’re going to regret this. Good night,” he insists before finding his way beside you in bed. You dramatically scoot over to the very edge of the bed, but he’s annoyed enough that his back is turned to you. 

Good, you think, and turn the page in your book. The plot thickens deliciously.

—

Izuku doesn’t bother explaining himself on the date the following week. Rather, he treats it like a business meeting and speaks politely, diverting any flirty comments to other topics. He wishes you hadn’t picked such an expensive restaurant but the truth was, the food was good enough to match the price. 

The woman today is not Sachiko - while Sachiko was petite and sold the moe angle quite well, Natsumi was a bit more direct and businesslike. Still, not quite like you and frankly a little bit too talkative. According to you, who were having the time of your life swiping right and left with his likeness, Sachiko had wanted a second date, but any time you broached the subject, he simply refused to respond and you, despite all of your ability to push buttons know when to stop. Now faced with Natsumi who was giving him his life story and testing his patience while he was trying to get through his Hamburg steak, he realized Sachiko might have been better.

“So why did you and your ex break up?”

Izuku swallowed another piece of meat quickly.

“We did not.”

Natsumi gave him a quizzical look.

“So why are you on a date with me?”

“To indulge her.”

Natsumi leans back in her chair then picks at her fingernails.

“Wow, you really are in denial, like she said.”

In Izuku’s eyes, this date is even more over than it was when it began.

When he comes home this time, you are talking and laughing animatedly on the phone to your mother as you cook a late dinner for yourself and rather than interrupt your conversation, he slips past you and puts the entrée he’d gotten for you in the front of the fridge.

You give him a glance then look away. Your mouth twists to the side, now that you realize you’re testing more than a little of his patience.

When you finally hang up the phone and put away your hot food to reheat the one he’s brought back for you, you ask in a small voice:

“Did you enjoy the food?”

He’s staring at the TV, looking without looking, and you can see that muscle in his jaw again tense before he turns to face you.

“It was delicious.”

You poke at the plate in front of you and concur. The food really is heavenly. Maybe you should pull back. It’s very clear that this man has no intention on breaking up with you and you can’t even remember what you were even mad about. There’s still a date left but canceling it with a 5 days notice isn’t the worst thing you can do. Your boyfriend has clearly learned his lesson, you think.

Then he says,

“Hey, can you arrange a second date for Sachiko? I’d like to see her again.”

And then rage consumes you again.

“Of course,” you say sweetly.

—

“I didn’t think I’d see you again!” Sachiko exclaims. Izuku had watched her run towards him, beaming smile accentuated by the bright winter sun’s rays reflected by the snow. Her cheeks are red and she looks as though she is blowing smoke, huffing and puffing as she catches her breath. She’s dressed for the weather, and so is he, and he notices the thick gloves that she’s wearing. His own hands are bare.

An ice skating date.

You must actually be prepared to lose him at this point.

Sachiko grins widely and Izuku, looking down at her again now that she is right next to him, realizes she really is cute. Not cuter than you, he wouldn’t go that far, but cute enough.

She doesn’t know how to ice skate and stays very close, and Izuku lets her cling onto his sleeve, then eventually hold his hand.

—

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

The phrase ran through your head over and over again, and had been the first thing you thought of when you reread her message for the third, the fourth, and the fifth time. 

Hi, I hope this isn’t weird but I just wanted to thank you.

(I hope it’s not you, Izuku, ‘cause that would be awkward! 😊)

I wanted to let you know that it must be hard to give up your partner, especially when they seem so nice! But I’m grateful. We’ll be texting privately from now on! 

Maybe we can be friends someday? I’d like to meet you in person too!

You swallow hard for a moment, reading the message again and again and again.

Texting privately. The familiar use of his name. It was two dates only. Why was she so confident? Why was she thanking you?

You found yourself thumbing through her profile again, really scrutinizing her again, taking particular care to commit her soft features to memory and the warm demeanor you could see through her many photos.

You swallowed hard again.

Did you mess up? Did you finally push too hard?

The sound of the door opening suddenly startled you enough that you ended up dropping your phone in the bowl of the bathroom sink. Izuku, appearing behind you suddenly as he turned into the bathroom to check looked you up once up and down and muttered a soft greeting. 

“You okay?”

Maybe you were imagining it, but the timbre of his voice was less Izuku and more Deku, the Hero, who asked everyone if they were okay. Who belonged to everyone. Or maybe really not everyone, just not you.

Despite your throat feeling as though it would close up, you nod. He says nothing more and suddenly you wish you could take it all back.

—

Two weeks have passed since your declaration of singlehood akin to a declaration of war, and just a few days since Sachiko thanked you for handing over the love of your life on a platter. Unwilling to admit that you regret your game, you resort to not speaking to him at all - at least not more than to reply to his good morning or his good night. You can feel him shift gently in the middle of the night, sometimes to face you, and you wonder if he’ll put his arm around your waist and nuzzle his chin in the crook of your shoulder, but he stops short and you’re left wanting, regretting. Now you start to make arrangements. Where will you go once you officially break up rather than theoretically? This is his apartment after all. Should you tell your mother so she’s not surprised when you turn up at her doorstep and she can’t call him her future son-in-law?

You’re not sure what your endgame was, but whatever this is, you don’t like it.

So you do what you do best. Make do with what is presented to you.

Izuku doesn’t say a word once he leaves your home just before noon, leaving you to quietly attend to work-related affairs as you type on your computer. From the calendar on the refrigerator, you’re reminded he has a midday shift 12-10pm, but still a part of you wonders if he’ll sneak off at any point to meet Sachiko. Why wouldn’t he? You’re broken up after all. 

Sachiko is so cute you would date her if you had the chance. You really did choose far too well.

You can’t focus on work anymore, you decide after staring at a blank screen for the next hour. Your head is pounding and your throat, although it no longer wants to close up, is dry and water isn’t fixing it. There’s a crick in your neck and a tenseness in your shoulders that Izuku would have massaged out for you if you weren’t locked in battle for days on end. 

So you make a profile for yourself. Is it desperation for validation now that suddenly all your inadequacies are brought to light or fear of losing? Whatever it is, you are very lucky, because you’ve arranged a date for just a few hours from now. 

You cannot, will not, spend the night in an empty house.

—

Izuku’s hands are fidgety, enough that his patrol partner notices the incessant tapping of his foot and the repeated running of his hands through his hair.

“You okay there, man?” 

“Yeah.”

It’s not like he can say No, actually, my girlfriend’s phone is unreachable and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s mad at me or because something actually happened to her, but if I’m wrong about danger, it will only make our already terrible relationship worse.

His partner tonight is a non-UA alum who is new to the city and initially came in excited to work with the great Midoriya only to run into someone whose naturally charismatic Hero smile now carries an undercurrent of moderate unease. The two however continue to roam the district in a predetermined path, making sure to detect any suspicious activity as it may come up. This particular area is known for its elevated nightlife and particularly rich patrons. There’s a Michelin 3-star restaurant whose reservations are hotly contested that he spots along his path as he walks, and he remembers he’d considered it among others for your eventual engagement, if you ever made it there at this point. 

The fact that Sachiko has texted him three times today grates on his nerves and he wishes he had never given her his number, even though he continues to reply politely. He looks down to mute the text thread, and as he looks up, he sees you.

And his blood runs cold. 

—

You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on a first date. You do remember that you’re supposed to feel somewhat jittery - you remember being this way when you first went on a date with your soon-to-be ex - but your nerves aren’t firing in all directions in a pleasant, pure sort of way.

What exactly are you trying to prove? You wonder as you stride carefully, one heeled step before the other on the cobbled street, a handsome stranger by your side. You march unevenly, and you can tell he wants to reach over and help you, but your body is sufficiently frigid that he keeps a polite distance away. 

Until you accidentally trip and he steadies you with a gentle grip of the hand.

“Hold on to me,” he asks. Yoshi’s smile is pleasant and reassuring, a little like Izuku. He’s not as tall and not as broad, but he’s pleasant to look at. 

“Thank you,” you say, gingerly allowing your hand to settle on his outstretched elbow. It doesn’t feel right but you tell yourself it’s natural to feel that way, considering you only started talking this afternoon. 

Yoshi isn’t a complete stranger though - you learn he works in another division at your company and you have mutual friends. It had just turned out that he had gotten stood up for his intended date today despite having had reservations for a month, so you might as well have taken the opportunity to go to such an exclusive eatery.

“I forgot to tell you you looked breathtaking,” he says once you’ve moved closer to him, and you can’t help but to smile first, then feel disgusted that you’re letting another man compliment you.

“You look quite nice yourself,” you reply nevertheless.

The queue to the entrance is several couples and groups long despite your reservation so you check in first before heading over to a waiting area until you get called.

You do get called from behind before you even get to sit, but it’s not by the restaurant.

“Fancy seeing you here!”

You freeze. Of course. What did you think would happen?

There are two things that run through your head. Either you can pretend you didn’t hear his voice and keep walking, and you know damn well he would not allow himself to be ignored or you could turn and risk a very public argument or-

He chooses for you.

Izuku is in front of the two of you now, grinning far too wide, far too poisonously. For once your heart is actually racing, and you remember that despite how soft he’s been with you, he’s actually quite large and obviously strong and the fact that he’s barely concealing the fact that he’s genuinely upset at you as he looks you up and down, fists clenched by his side and knuckles white as chalk, means that he could be unpredictable.

“It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” he says, with a tinny laugh. Your eyes widen as you look to him then to your date who looks genuinely confused as to why this Hero is unkindly interrupting his date out of the blue.

“Hey, um-”

Deku flashes a smile at you that doesn’t reach his eyes then looks back at Yoshi.

“The two of you look like a lovely couple! Are you waiting for this restaurant?” He says, pointing to the entrance. “It’s a great restaurant! I personally like one of their pasta dishes myself and had been meaning to take my girlfriend here for a while but we just haven’t gotten the chance to-”

Yoshi, bold enough that even you’re taken aback, has the nerve to take your wrist gently and pull you a little behind him - a move that is not lost on Izuku and your blood chills because Izuku finds himself holding back a chuckle.

“Can I help you?” Yoshi asks, clearly annoyed.

You start to move instinctively but Izuku’s placed a hand on Yoshi’s shoulder and proceeds to pat it. He leans in ever so slightly to clear the height difference between them, staring him directly in the eyes, and you hold your breath. It’s clearly a challenge and you pray that neither of them take the bait. 

You can see Yoshi move to shrug the shoulder off but he’s forced into place and now the confusion on his features is even more intense. You can nearly cut the tension in the air with a knife but then you hear the other young man approaching.

It’s Izuku’s partner who has finally caught up, and the sound of Deku’s name being called from afar as he approaches seems to snap Izuku back into the reality of the situation. Some of the pounding in his temples clears and he tries not to look at you, patting your date on the shoulder.

“Stay safe out there and don’t stay out too late,” He offers. There’s still an edge to his voice and his hand and eyes linger but eventually he lets it trail off. The warning is for you specifically. 

Your face is hot and you’re thoroughly embarrassed but that’s the least of your concerns right now. Your stomach twists into a knot.

Your table is called.

—

When you finally slip back into your apartment, it’s a couple minutes to midnight and you are Cinderella fleeing back home to where the magic wears off.

The lights are on and Izuku is staring holes into the front door as you come in - he almost startles you when you slip off your shoes and turn to find him sitting at the kitchen table, facing in your direction. 

A small gasp leaves your throat.

He cocks his head to the side.

“What? Do I scare you?” His voice is somewhat gruff as though he’s waking up from sleep, low, and makes your heart pound.

You open your mouth, then close it. There’s not really much you can say at this point. You literally went on a date without his knowledge. You expected a fight when you came back, especially given how obviously angry he was just a couple of hours ago. 

You push and you push and you push and you don’t really know why you’re pushing.

And then you remember why. Sachiko.

“No,” you reply, moving forward in bare feet on wooden flooring, and dropping off your apartment keys in a shared bowl on the counter. You purse your lips and try not to engage him but wonder how long he’s been waiting for you, hunched forward on his elbows, pressing his fingertips together. There’s an untouched glass of wine besides him, and he rarely drinks.

“How was your date?” he spits.

You stop for a moment, his tone sinking in, and you selectively hear anger instead of the pang of rejection. You whip around to face him, the metal on your purse strings making the action unnecessarily loud. 

“It was great, actually! How’s Sachiko?!”

You didn’t mean to raise your voice but you did nevertheless. 

“Who..,” he starts, but his eyes widen, seething. “You sent me on that date.”

“That doesn’t mean you can fuck her!”

Izuku lets out a groan but his scowl softens to a frown once he sees the tears in your eyes despite his still tightly clenched fists.

“I did not, first of all. I deleted her number hours ago. We literally never met after the dates YOU arranged. Meanwhile you’re prancing around, hanging off some random dude’s arm, and what am I supposed to do? Accept it? What the fuck do I look like to you,___?”

You don’t have a response to that. How easy can it be to tolerate your mood swings? You were never done with him. You don’t want to be done with him. Of course he laughed at you when you said it, because it was obviously not true.

But you just want to feel heard so badly sometimes.

There’s a bit of silence as the two of you stand across from each other, your tears streaming down your face.

“Come here,” Izuku murmurs.

“No,” you mutter. He sighs as he follows you into the bedroom you disappear to, and watches you carefully as you sit down on the edge of the bed. You’re clearly still unsettled, but by now he can tell that you are no longer angry but confused as to what to do next. What comes after this mess?

“Did you fuck him?” Izuku asks in a quiet voice.

“Obviously not,” you quip, crossing your arms not out of self-defense but for self-soothing.

“Did you kiss him?” His voice is tentative as though he dreads the answer. His palms open and he flexes his fingers but he crosses the distance towards you on the bed.

“No.”

He pauses again, then kneels down before you. There’s a hand that finds its way onto the side of your cheek tenderly, turning your face so that you face him, and him only.

“I’m done fighting with you,” he finally decides. “Open your legs.”

Your face twists into surprise, but he dives deep, pulling up the bottom of your dress to your waist. He plants several kisses on your thighs, then waits for you to part your legs for him - he’s not going to tell you twice - before pressing his nose on the wet spot forming on your panties.

He breathes in and the inhale of your scent runs through his whole body, enough that you shudder yourself.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he says and your face warms. His calloused hands grip firmly, but not roughly, on the skin of your legs and push you open even further to accommodate his broad shoulders - you lean back onto your elbows as he slips two fingers under the crotch, and tears them apart with a snap.

“‘Zuku!” You hiss. Those panties aren’t your best ones but you still liked them.

He doesn’t reply and rather hastily, penetrates you with his tongue, and you squeal his name again, relishing in the thick muscle exploring your folds and the harsh grasp of his fingertips as he keeps you still. 

“B-baby… ah!”

He’s sharp and precise, because you’ve loved him long enough and he’s loved you long enough to know exactly what you need. You don’t tip but you careen over the pleasure of his tongue working your folds and your clit and your soft center, whining as pressure builds in your lower belly. 

“S-stop, it’s…” your breath falters, “I d-don’t deserve…”

He stops briefly with a kiss, then looks up at you, mulling over the words he needs to say to this woman who causes him so much trouble. 

He decides on the following:

“You’re right. You don’t deserve it, not right now, so I’m punishing you,” he finally teases. There’s a half grin on the slick covered lower half of his face and your eyes widen at the sight of his glistening skin. He lifts your ass gently and slaps it hard enough that your breath catches, the pain searing up and down your leg. You gasp, and he grabs a handful of your ass cheek, rubbing it to mull over the sensation. 

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” He hisses. His body presses over you, pushing one of your bent legs against your chest as he continues to squeeze at the fat of your bottom. You nod and he kisses you. 

“Simply awful.”

Another spank comes and you’re nearly blinded in pain and he dips down, biting at your lip. 

“I indulge you far too much, don’t I?” His teeth tug gently and release, and then he motions for you to pull your arms up. You’re sure if you don’t hurry up, he’ll rip it to shreds. 

The dress comes off and so does your breasts out of your bra and into his cupped hands. Sucking, biting at your nipples, leaving marks - it’s desperate and possessive and you wonder what would have happened if you had really taken Yoshi or whatever his name was seriously, and really pushed your Izuku to the brink. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you choke out eventually through sighs and then sobs. Izuku rolls you onto him, clasping his arms around your waist as you straddle him, playing with your breasts as you roll against him. The rhythm is new and hasty, but some of the fundamentals are the same. You know his body and he knows yours. He sucks at your neck and you nip at his earlobes - your fingers twist into his curls and he pulls at your hair. Kiss after kiss after kiss.

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmurs into your neck. His strong arms still enclose you and you’re settled onto his cock. There’s a soft groan as he presses upwards into you and some of you collapses into him, but he rolls his hips as you cling to his chest and you’re in a rhythm yet again.

“You make me crazy but I’m sorry.”

You can only whimper something unintelligible back as you suck up every inch of him, even your walls clinging tightly and desperately to his body inside yours. Your fingers curl into fists, laying against his chest and he uses a hand to pull it before him and kiss your knuckles.

“I’m awful,” you moan, crying into his chest.

“I shouldn’t have teased you,” he insists.

He flips over and you find yourself under him, and he interlaces his fingers with yours above you. Green locks graze gently atop your forehead as he stares into your eyes.

“I love you,” you say first.

“I love you too,” Izuku replies. He stirs into you more, letting the pressure of his weight comfort you as he strokes deeply, then rises up on his elbows to pick up his pace.

“Promise you’ll never leave,” you beg him before he begins. His hands press onto yours and pin you down and he kisses at your belly, then up to your lips.

“You can’t get rid of me,” he laughs.

“Even when I’m shitty enough to try?”

He pauses, dips down to press his forehead against yours. His lips graze above yours again. 

“Even when I’m angry enough to fight back, I won’t leave you.”

Reassured, you rock your hips against his and he takes it as an invitation to speed up. His strokes are fast and deep and tender - with every plunge you fall deeper in love with him, as does he. You push back but gently, resisting every strong movement with a clench of your thighs against him.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he insists, and you can his voice lowers. “Fucking amazing, baby, fucking-”

It’s his tell - he holds on to you desperately and you can feel yourself tense up as your coil snaps and sharp jets of cum spurt at your cervix, coating you thick and full. He shudders as he comes, heavy body shrouding you in a warm comfort.

He’s never leaving and neither are you.

No matter how many games you play.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Daryl, sitting nearby, heard your grumbling under your breath and he let out a low, gruff laugh.

"What?" you asked, wandering toward him.

He glanced toward the figure now retreating up the walkway, equally as glad to see the back of him as you were apparently. "Ya dun have to be nice to ev'rybody, ya know," he drawled. "'Specially that asshole."

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. "I know... I'm a recovering people pleaser. It's a hard habit to break."

"Mm," Daryl hummed, nestling the edge of his thumbnail between his teeth and chewing on it thoughtfully for a moment. "Ain't just that," he said. "Ya learned it for a reason."

It was an astute observation and your mouth dropped slightly open for a moment as you considered whether to tell him why. "Yeah..." you said finally. "Yeah. It's a—self-protection mechanism, in a way."

"If yer nice, people are less likely to get angry, to lash out... to hurt ya," he said, his blue eyes knowing and concerned as they caught yours again.

You nodded. "Yeah... That, and these days, less likely to suspect me as capable of killing them should the need arise." You flashed him your best smile in an attempt to relieve the tension. "It's like Carol's little helpless suburbanite act. It's disarming."

He nodded. "I get it. But it does have the obvious flaw that ya end up bein' nice to a whole bunch of dead beats that hang around way more than ya want 'em to."

You leaned toward him on the railing and smiled. "That's where you come in. I've always been able to rely on you when said dead beats become problematic."

"Damn straight," he said with a nod. "Just say the word. I ain't nice at all."

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, you are. Just to a select group. And to me especially." You offered him another smile that had him feeling suddenly lightheaded. "Really you're just a big softie inside. I love that about you."

"Shut up..." he murmured, avoiding your gaze now as his face flushed.

"I will not," you said with a grin.

Prompt: "You don't have to be nice to everyone."

[novembermorgon]

could you tell us more about myrielle and aerion’s twin sons?

YUPPPPPPPP!!!

whew . ok .

left is maegor right is aenys . maegor is a few minutes older than aenys

neither of these guys are anything like their namesakes. maegor from birth is small and weak and sickly - he's pretty easy to get along with and agreeable by targaryen man standards, very polite and soft-spoken. to me he's almost like a rapunzel figure in that myrielle keeps him inside most days because she fears he'll get hurt or sick - she dotes on him and cares for him but never truly offers him much freedom to do as he wishes, the way she does aenys. he wants to go out and wants to experience new things and be more bold like his brother but every time there's sort of a block in that he doesn't have the courage to or myrielle convinces him that he can't. he, in a sense, is raised more like a princess than a prince and sort of falls into that role despite his status. i feel like he's drawn to more feminine ways of presenting himself and more ladylike activities; dancing, singing, sewing, reading ..

whereas aenys is the complete opposite - he's essentially just a copy paste of his dad LOL definitely aerion's golden boy . he's strong and bold and good at fighting, does all his dad asks of him, goes off with him to hunts and tourneys and charms people at court without really needing to try . of course being a copy paste of aerion targaryen also means he's kind of an asshole and if youre hanging around at court and you think about him being a prince with real power for too long your stomach probably hurts a little . aerion telling him tales of how he aimed for the horse during one of his jousts once to win and aenys going ohhh!!! yess!! so cool!! i also want to be in the business of fighting dishonorably. gets a little too heated in the training yard with the other lord's sons and knocks someone's teeth out and they have to put him in timeout once a week.

they're. hmm. i think there's an inherent sort of resentment there between them that begins as soon as they're born, just by virtue of being so different, and by being named Maegor and Aenys. you cannot escape your fate you cannot escape the cycle of your family etc. and i think that there's a lot of things here that kind of work against them .... aenys resenting maegor for just so happening to be older and therefore being heir despite he himself feeling as if he's better suited, maegor wanting the freedoms that aenys is given by virtue of being their father's favourite and being a second son with less responsibility. they can find a thousand reasons to hate each other, but at the same time they do love each other and know that they are, inherently, tied together by virtue of being twins. the twins we see in asoiaf are very insistent on the fact that they are tethered, they are one soul in two bodies, they will never truly be apart.

aenys hates maegor for being weak and for being heir even though their father doesn't like him, even though he has none of the qualities aenys loves about himself, even though he's more like a daughter than a son - and even still, he loves maegor, he wants to keep maegor safe from the horrors of the world before anybody else ruins him and takes all that's good about him away from him. maegor hates aenys because he's rude and terrible to him, because he's never respected him, but loves him so dearly because he's the only person in the world who will look on his flaws and be able to feel some sense of genuine pity or affection - the only person who will always feel a responsibility to love him so entirely and wholly because they are twins and have that bond that will never go away no matter what.

in my mind the themes of gender in asoiaf is very interesting especially in relation to the targs in that their relationships are .. a lot stranger .. in a lot of cases. you are twin brothers, but your brother is more like a girl than a boy. you know that if things had been only the slightest bit different, you would most definitely be betrothed to each other because your family traditions demand it of you. how would your love be different, then? would it be any different at all? would that be better? would it fix any of our problems? what am i meant to feel for my brother when every part of our family history is built on a wife's suffering, an incestuous misery that never has an end, when we are so nearly brother and sister ...?

they're complicated . and difficult to describe ... a relationship built on shame and not understanding each other and not understanding what you feel for each other .

i'm a little undecided atm what to do with maegor .. he is a bit of a mystery in my mind but when he's ~15 give or take aenys suffers a little (bad) jousting incident and ends up with a bad leg that he pretends isn't there because he doesn't want to be deemed weak by his father or by court and a case of head trauma that makes him Worse . sort of henry viii esque . he eventually marries a velaryon girl ...

there's also the secret third sibling (bastard sister) but i'll discuss her some other time ....

[minotaurs-my-beloved]

Love when a good song gives me some ideas

Song reference:

Tongues & teeth by The Crane Wives

Thinking about being fwb with wearwolf outcast of a small town. They’re an outcast for a good reason they’re violent and aggressive the town has half the sense to put them down for some of there outbursts. But you don’t see that you see someone you could fix (classic savior complex) and you want to fix them because you love them (not like you would tell them though). With all their bad habits every time you come over to try and help them a bit, always after a rough few rounds of sex. You think you’re being discreet but they can see right through you..

Eventually they get sick of you trying to help them and confront you, telling you out front that this would never work. They’re far to cruel for you, far to cold, far to violent especially for a little human like you to handle. Grabbing your chin and tilting t up to them as they run their thumb over the cut on your lip from their teeth.

They talk of how they would ruin you, they know that you mean well but they’re not someone who deserve your good intent. They let let go and head to leave now that you’re crying they feel as though they’ve made there point but here you are still tugging on there sleeve talking on how you don’t care. How pitiful they think as you beg and beg for them to stay that you’re fine with all their flaws and just want to at least try making things work..

They keep listening stone faced as you cry and plead with them till they finally snap. Fine you want their love they’ll give it to you. They manhandled you to the ground not bothering to listen to your Inesscents tears why should they this is what you were pleading for. And they’re fully intend to keep to their promise and ruin you.

Looking at the aftermath of your body they smile in an almost sadistic way. They get dressed leaning down to press a small kiss to your lips there teeth cutting into your lips again. As the whisper “if your fine with that you can be mine” they lean back watching as sleep takes you before they get up and leave.

Yah just a thought Ykwim

Always just a thought

Maybe to much of a thought

Anywhoooi

-🎀

I completely forgot about that song, the crane wives are a great band. Also, babes, you need to start writing, this was a very fun prompt. I literally stopped what I was doing and immediately started writing for it

Also, should I name them? if so, I want ideas

WC: 1.1k

TW: Dubcon? violence, toxic/abusive relationship

You had always been intrigued by them, hearing stories and rumors of a violent brutal werewolf with not a care for anyone or anything. Whenever they return to the public for any reason the aura of dominance and cruelty radiates off of them. No one needs to be told to stay out of their way, their body just forces them, innately knowing this is a dangerous dangerous person.

But you must be lacking that basic instinct.

That or you're really fucking stupid. The townspeople have yet to decide, as you, someone who can't fight for a shit, not that it'd matter, walk up to them and try to begin a conversation. The hair on everyone's neck stands, a sickening dropping feeling in all their stomachs, as though they were the one talking, knowing what is to come next.

To everyone's surprise, the monster doesn't immediately lash out at you. Bare those jagged teeth or stain your body with their marks, but just stop and stare down at you, their hulking non-human body towering over your own. Perhaps the hesitation is only of confusion, or maybe they've managed to retain a bit of the humanity they once gripped desperately onto.

Who knows.

The people around you quickly pull you away as the werewolf starts to change their mind, snarling at you. You got lucky, don't test it again. But whatever thoughts you had before of them still having the capacity to love have fully been unearthed, now at the forefront of your mind at all times. You saw the hesitation and decided it meant everything.

They decided you were really fucking stupid.

They will only hurt you. They'd enjoy every second of it too. They're nothing but sharp teeth and claws. But you don't listen, trying to prove to everyone that the wolf's not as bad as they seem.

So, you track them down, it isn't too hard, they don't live very far from town, and bring them something you've baked. They're already on edge, not expecting someone to just show up at their home, and seeing you pisses them off. But they show restraint and only slam the door in your face, telling you to fuck off. You just leave the pastries on their doorstep, a little hurt, but not shaken, deciding to keep this up.

The second visit they didn't even open the door. But the third was worse. They were angry with your actions, just leave them alone, they don't need your fucking pity. They push you, sending you tumbling back, a claw mark ruining your pretty skin. A few tears well in your eyes from the rejection and pain, but you quickly blink them away and stand back up, trying to talk to them. They just growl and throw the food to the ground next to you.

The townspeople are begging for you to stop, they hurt you. They are nothing but the monster they've succumbed to. Why do you want to go back? You don't listen, refusing to give up.

This time you take a different approach, instead of bringing something you made, you bring yourself. Offering your body up for their use.

They actually take you up on this offer, kicking you out the second they were done. Leaving you limping and littered in their marks, not caring to be gentle with you. You asked for this, you knew what you were getting into and you just kept coming back for more. Trying to stay after you're both finished, talking gently to them of domestic peaceful things.

But they see right through you. They know there is no true altruistic motivation for your actions. This is not for the genuine betterment of the wolf.

No, you never actually cared about that, you're only doing this because you want to be seen as better. You just want to feel like a good person with your "good intent." You have a savior complex. You don't actually care about them at all, it's never been about them. It was always about You.

Watching your bloodied lip move while you talk, one they bit into to make it that way, talking about far too sweet things, they snap.

"Stop! Fucking stop! I am so sick of this, I'm not some little project for you to fix, goddammit! I cannot be gentle. Why don't you understand? There is no fixing me. You burn with feelings I can't return."

"You had to know this wasn't going to last."

They turn to leave, going to go hunt as a means to get the anger coursing through their veins and escape. Their words slam you like a brick wall, you look around frantically, body starting to shake, you run towards them. Sobbing and gripping onto their arm, begging for them to stay.

You need them.

Can't they see that?

It's pathetic, but it's the only thing you can do. Broken hoarse words spilling from your lips. You don't even know what you're saying anymore, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that they're still here.

They just stare at you with those same dead eyes as they did all that time back. Not an ounce of care in them. They snarl and push you off, but you come back the second you stand. They clench their jaw and refuse to look at you, ignoring your pitifully desperate pleas.

Every time they look at you they can only see the worst parts of themself, the parts that have nearly engulfed them whole. All the claw marks, bruises, cuts, bites, staining your innocent weak body.

This is what they do to those they love.

They will only hurt you.

Can't you see that?

They can't be trusted, they do nothing but harm. They can never change, they wouldn't even if they could. This is who they are. Nothing more, nothing less. Abandon any dream you had about the person they could have been.

They warn you that they will ruin you too, corrupt you. But you don't care, you say they're all you want, no matter what.

Finally, they accept your words, deciding to give you what you're asking for. Pushing you to the ground, tearing your clothes to shreds, stabbing their teeth into your skin, ravaging your body completely. Cry all you want, this is what you were begging for.

What? Can't take it now that you've gotten what you want?

Should've thought about that before pleading for it. You don't have a choice now. You wanted their love? Now you have it.

Using your body till they're fully satisfied, not caring for you at all. Ruining your body with each hit, ruining your body with the pleasure they give, even if not meaning too. They finish, and just like the first time, get up and leave. Your bruised and bleeding body lies there on the cusp of unconsciousness and they sink their teeth into the same cut on your lip, leaning over you, growling, "You're mine, now.

"This is the price of my love."

[judasgot-it]

Originally wrote this for an ask but it REALLY strayed from the prompt (rip) and I also I feel like I actually did Dazai SO dirty here but idk.

But anyway I'm uploading another depressed Dazai/reader fic because HELLLLLL YEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

Also this shit is like 2000 words so it's one of my longer fics on this account ig.

In the morning Dazai always liked to lie around in his bed - to languish in the filth that was his apartment just for a moment, to let his mind sit trapped in the cage that was his body. He would wait until the sunlight would get too bright, the light peeking past a certain spot in the curtains and begin to burn his exposed skin.

That was when he felt that he would get the ability to truly wake up, even if all he did was just the bare minimum that morning. Today all he could manage was to brush his teeth and tousle his oily hair around as he stared at his own reflection through his dirty mirror - he was still in his clothes from yesterday, which wasn't noticeable with a little bit of perfume.

A part of him hated himself for it, always had. It was disgusting to walk around like this, to live like this.

But this was just how Dazai always was.

He could only hope that you wouldn't judge him too harshly when you came to pick him up for work that morning. It felt like pulling nails out of his skin as he stood in his bathroom, thinking about every flaw you could see and possibly hate him for.

His skin was looking dull, with razor bumps along the bottom of his jaw that wouldn't go away no matter what he did, even though he hadn't shaved that morning. He had a small 5 o' clock shadow that he knew would get worse throughout the day - maybe if he kissed you like he did in his dreams, you would feel disgusted by how rough it would feel against your own skin.

The one thing he loved and hated about you was that he could never predict how you would react to something. And this morning it drove him especially insane as he waited to hear your knock on the door.

Had he not promised you breakfast he would have gone for something to cool his nerves. The best he could do for now as he walked into the kitchen was a glass of water, although his half empty bottle of whiskey was glaring down at him like an angry child.

Still slugish, he waited. He knew traffic would be light today, so you should be there soon. Lazily he watched his clock on the wall, not even bothering to watch the time.

5:45 AM. You knocked.

Lazily, Dazai approached the door. He tried to keep himself relaxed, although a part of himself wanted to scream and jump as his eyes took in your figure from behind the door. The light from behind the door was bright, and his dark eyes wanted to squint, to cower away.

Giving you that impression made Dazai feel like he was pulling his own teeth out.

“Y/n. Good morning.”

“Doesn't really seem like a good morning for you, now does it?”

Dazai blinked at you.

“Sorry?“

He looked down as you pressed something towards his chest. It took him a moment to process that it was a gift bag, for what occassion he couldn't quite recall. He looked right back up at you, trying to get an answer from you with a strained smile. You only responded with a smirk.

”Open it?“

”I was planning on that. But for what reason?“

He shifted through the contents a bit, trying to pull back the wrapping paper as little as possible so he could tell what the gift was without forcing you to see his disappointment.

In his current state he couldn't even bring himself to feign joy at a present he at least knew wouldn't have any sort of use or meaning to him.

To most people he wouldn't care about it, but to you, a frown on your face caused by his actions would bring something akin to a sort of sadness to him. A creeping crawling sadness that would never leave him, forcing him to remember that expression to his grave.

He didn't want to hurt you, not even in a moment this small. You felt big and important.

“Oh. Didn't you get my message?”

Your tone had changed - it was wet, despite the smile you wore on your face.

Dazai wanted to lie and make that tone disappear, but he felt compelled to tell the truth for once in his life. He pulled the bag closer to his chest, keeping him grounded in some way.

“I'm sorry Y/n, but it's not my birthday. Or am I forgetting something?“

You shook your head, stepping closer into Dazai's space.

”No, I know that it's not your birthday today. Did you read my message?“

Looking between your eyes, he tried to give the impression he was making eye contact - the last thing he wanted to do right now. Right now he wanted to curl up and let the crawl underneath his skin consume him, but all he could do was smile as he tried to form an honest response to your question.

”Well um. My phone was dead last night, so I didn't really check any messages.“

Not a lie. But it was flimsy, given the importance.

He dared looked down to your eyes, which were gentle in the moment - not even giving him the glare he usually would get in these sorts of moments.

It was mystifying to him to feel your hand on his arm and feel you brush past him, walking into his disgusting apartment. He couldn't even react as you stepped inside, past shoes thrown about the entrance and past the old takeout containers that stayed rotting on his floor for months on end.

You looked back at him as you found the best thing to sit on inside of his apartment - an old torn up bar stool that he had stolen some years ago. There was a story behind it, but Dazai was more concerned over the fact that you could see the stacks of papers strewn across the small kitchen counter, or the half empty beer bottles or the unwashed landry that laid around on his floor.

All of it was visible from that stool, and he knew your eyes were drinking in every single part of it.

All of his disgusting human nature that he hid behind closed doors.

“Y/n.”

Dazai conceded, closing his front door and standing there like a child scolded by his mother.

“What was the message you sent last night?”

He wanted to push for more, and beg if it was important or not - what the gift in his hands was really meant to be. A part of him wanted to scream at you and kick you out of his apartment as if he were a scorned wild animal - but he shoved that anger down deep into the closet of his mind.

You looked at him, your face completely serene. Despite the powerplay you had taken, a part of you was still visibly nervous, your hands picking at old crust embedded onto his countertop.

“I asked you if you wanted to go out with me.“

A piece of the crust came off, flicking itself somewhere off onto his dirty floor.

”Like. On a date. A romantic one.“

You glanced up at him, brave enough to meet his eyes. There was embarrassment and shame in your own now, but you held steady in your position.

”Is that what the gift was? You got me chocolates?“

Slowly you nodded, your hair glowing despite the lowlight of his apartment. Dazai clutched the bag to his chest, feeling the box inside crumple slightly due to his mishandling.

”Y/n, I'm uh.“

Dazai's mouth felt dry as he tried to find a way to word his apology. There was a pain that wouldn't go away, cold and unwavering in on his skin - and he knew it was all in his head as he looked right at your face, one that desperately tried to hide your disappointment.

”I know you don't love me, so why all of this? This isn't right.“

A moment of silence. Sitting there, you blinked. Letting his words simmer in your silence.

”How do you know that?“

”Well, don't you like Kunikida? You know, Mr.Right?“

You snorted, finally breaking your gaze away from Dazai's nose.

”Just because you know everything Dazai doesn't mean you know me. Kunikida is great, but we would never work like that. You should know that, Mr. Genius.“

The brunette couldn't help but snort, a part of him relieved.

”I like you. That's why I asked you out.“

”That's still stupid.“

Dazai finally felt more comfortable in his own skin again, enough to let himself lean against the wall, still clutching the bag of chocolates to his chest as if it were a lifeline.

”My feelings are stupid?“

You were trying to not sound hurt.

”No, no. Liking me is stupid. I won't live long Y/n. Why would you ever want to like me. Want to date me?”

You shook your head, as if shaking off the words he just said.

“I don't believe that. You aren't stupid and you've lived this long, so I want to see you live longer.”

The barstool screeched as you moved to stand up, moving closer to Dazai as you tried to articulate your words, fidgeting with your hands as you did so. It was like writing that text all over again but now you could see his face in real time, which terrified you even more.

“I don't want to like you, I didn't even choose that - you just are likable. Dazai, you are a good person even if you don't think you are.”

Dazai furrowed his brows and looked away from you, trying to pretend that the words you said were a lie.

“Sorry if you don't like me back the same way, um.”

You fiddled with nothing, waiting for his reaction. He was blocking the doorway, and his silence was intimidating when compared with his stare.

“Y/n, you really think I'm a good person?”

Dazai stepped closer, leaving only just the right amount of space between the two of you to where you could begin to see the finer details on his tan skin.

Carefully, you nodded, knowing that in this distance you could easily headbutt the poor man if you weren't careful.

“Even if I told you about the things I did, you would still think I'm a good person?”

Again, you slowly nodded, a smile breaking your face apart as if what he said was a joke. He killed people, and you thought it was a joke?

“Do you know the things that I've done?”

You stared at him for a moment.

“Are you actually gonna be brave enough to tell me?”

There was a hand on his arm, warm and grounding. He looked at your smiling eyes, warm and inviting. It was as if he was standing in the sun, cold and shivering.

“I don't know. But Y/n, I've done terrible things before. Nothing you would have seen at the agency. There's a reason I deserve to die-”

“No one should die.”

You cut him off, your grip tighter, shaking him as if trying to shake away the cold feeling underneath his skin. To bring your warmth into his bones.

“Dazai, I'm not leaving until you give me an answer. Please.”

His throat was dry as he swallowed nothing.

“I do like you. But don't you deserve better?”

“I am as bad as you are.“

Shaking his head, Dazai put his hand on your shoulder, shaking you slightly.

“No you aren't, seriously you don't know what you're talking about Y/n.”

“If you're a bad man Dazai, then so am I. You aren't changing my feelings just because you regret things you've done.”

The two of you were close, almost sweating from the warmth of his apartment retained from the summer heat, combined with your combined body heat. It reminded you that you had personal space, although looking at Dazai you wanted to keep him close, to shake whatever was wrong with him out of his head and try and just hold him close.

It was an impossible thought, not realistic but it was something nice to think about. “All we're doing is talking in circles right now. Dazai.”

”I can keep going.“

”It's infuriating.“

”Then why do you like it?“

”Cause you're you. And you like me too.”

Dazai tried to hide his face despite how close the two of you were. It was futile, as you could still see the nervous smile on his face.

“That's semantics, actually.”

“No, you did say it. So.“

”So?“

A shrug. There was a smile on your face despite how nonchalant you tried to act, as if this was something that happened to you every day.

”We're going to go on a date. After you shower.“

Dazai blinked, his hand nervously clutching your sleeve. He didn't even realize he was still holding onto your shoulder as he fiddled with the soft fabric.

”Today?“

You nodded, your smile becoming mischevious.

“You could have had more time to prepare if you read my message, but now we're here instead. Don't worry, I'll wait for you.”

Taking a step back from the little world the two of you had made, you took in all of Dazai for a second - clothes from yesterday, his dischevled clothes and his tired looking eyes. You held his hands in you hands as you moved to take the bag of choclates from his as you moved to put it somewhere safe from his mess of a home.

Dazai watched you, still processing the scene before him.

”Where do you want to go have a date at?“

”We'll figure it out. First, go shower.“

Dazai snorted, the closest he had to a real laugh in a while.

Yeah this is a stupid classic "oh they get together confession thing" but i wanted to idk write another dazai depression fic. i strayed too far from the prompt ig. sorry !!!

[princessvickie]

PERSONAL STRIKER HEADCANNONS ♡‧₊˚

(general, romantic, physical.)

note : ahh i’ve been wanting to write about him for a while :,3333 my little snake dude !!!-!-!!—!! i freaking love him sm !! might write about him and my oc sooooown;)) this isn’t proof read sorry:(

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR HELLUVA BOSS EPS IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY WATCHED THE SHOW.

General

୨୧ I feel like Striker would be demisexual/romantic. He’d probably only be intimate with somebody after he put his whole trust and faith in them. It’s implied by S2 Ep4 that he’s lost the people that he cared about before, so It’s an explanation for his hostility. I also think he’d be Bisexual like js look at that one scene in Harvest Moon like i know he was trying to manipulate Blitz butttt;))..

୨୧ Loves mud fights and fist fights, won’t elaborate on this;).

୨୧ While rewatching Harvest Moon Festival, Striker looks a bit old fashioned and traditional compared to the other Imps. So i believe that he def gets his style from watching old western movies when he has the time.

୨୧ Constantly trying to get money for business phones, but he always breaks all of them in a fit of rage (a little canon).

୨୧ Fucking loves Bombproof with every fiber in his body and treats him like a baby in private, also I feel like he’d own more horses and call them his family.

୨୧ FAWKING LOVES HORSERIDING COMPETITIONS!!!! he almost always wins and then shows off Bombproof but never lets anybody touch him.

୨୧ Bombproof is def his main way of transportation but he’d probably have to drive a car once in a while. (he’s absolutely reckless and his vehicle is literally on life support and barely even working)

୨୧ His gold tooth is a souvenir and shines insanely bright.. he also wants to lose more teeth to replace them with prosthetic gold ones.

୨୧ Decent penmanship, despite his reckless and crazy personality. It’s not the best.. but at-least it’s legible…

Romantic

୨୧ In the scenario that he’d be in a relationship with somebody, he’d probably be a bit harsh/ or even cruel at first. He hasn’t experienced that type of shit in a while so he’s grown to know intimacy as a stranger. Striker has a tough shell.

୨୧ Once he’s warmed up to that person, he’d be super overprotective. He doesn’t want to lose another person, and to experience that grief again. Striker wouldn’t be the perfect partner because he still has some flaws within his personality due to being previously scarred, but he’d def ensure that the person he’s romantically involved in is comfortable and reciprocates the same feelings as well.

୨୧ Overall, Striker’s a bit inexperienced with romantic concepts but not completely unfamiliar with it. He wouldn’t mind showing affection, such as occasional cuddles or words of praise.

୨୧ also extra if he were to be your roommate, he’d be extremely messy.. like look at his lair shit is everywhere 😭.

Physical

୨୧ DEF MORE ROUGH AND MESSY HAIRRR. Work gets in the way of his personal hygiene and sometimes he forgets to cut it, making it grow a bit longer. Also fighting takes a lot of effort so no doubt it’s messy 😭.

୨୧ Longer gloves, maybe even normal non-fingerless ones. Striker kills people for a living and he’s legally wanted so I don’t think he’d leave his fingerprints behind that easily.

୨୧ Doesn’t always fight with his jacket, sometimes fights get messsyyy and he doesn’t have the time to keep washing it.

୨୧ okay sorry if I get bashed on this but I prefer norman reedus as his va.. NO HATE TO EDDD I FREAKING LOVE HIM BUT I LIKE THE HIGHER, RASPIER VOICE..

୨୧ snake-imp. Personally I don’t believe Striker to be half shark but everybody has their own headcannons. I also think he’d possess more animalistic features, such as moving around more snake-like and slithery.. def does this to confuse his targets,, like one moment he’s here and then u blink and he’s literally gone.

୨୧ honestly I feel like he’d have more scars on his body, especially his forearm/general arm area. He’s a literal assassin it’d be a little unbelievable if he didn’t have any remarkable scars.. and I also feel like he’d have one specific scar he’d show off and forget about all the other ones he has. but this is just my humble opinion!!!

[hihhasotherfixations]

Okay I love your John hates kisses on the corner of his mouth post and the follow up!

How do you think he’d react to the reader doing the trend where you wipe away your s/o’s kiss?

Oh you’ve decided to hop on the pain train I see.

There is different ways this can go.

Him being aware of the trend is the best scenario. He’d just roll his eyes and pull you in, calling you a brat before kissing you again, making sure you can’t wipe it off this time ;3

However, if he is not aware and it comes out of the blue? He’s hurt. There’s no other way around it.

It takes a lot for John to get to the point in a relationship where he feels secure enough to show affection (betrayal and distrust have been on the forefront his entire life. It just takes him a while to warm up. But oh boy when he does). And wiping away his kiss, it hurts.

He’d lean away, asking what’s wrong and why you did that, a frown on his face. If you’re grinning/smirking, he’ll get annoyed. Because to him, he just wanted to show he loves you and instead you reject it and are practically laughing in his face about it (how he sees it). He’ll definitely demand an explanation or else be upset with you.

He won’t get mad, he’ll simply carry the hurt with him. If not resolved, it will fester. If you do it again, things will go very wrong, as there is always that little seed of doubt in his brain that he doesn’t deserve a good thing such as love, he’s done too much evil in his life. And that will confirm it for him.

While he is a strong man. Everyone has their weaknesses. And for John, self-doubt quickly turns into self-harm. Not in a physical sense, but he tears himself apart in his mind. Picking on every single one of his flaws and errors and unraveling them until it’s too much to handle or detangle. He will hyperfocus on every mistake he made that might make you - his love and partner - turn against him. His thoughts will take over to the point where he will be short with you and almost push you into the role his mind is so convinced you now take.

However, on the other side, if you wipe away his kiss and - instead of grin or smirk - just not react beyond that, he’ll think you’re mad at him.

He’ll be hurt, yeah, and confused because as far as he knows, he didn’t do anything wrong. But this man will do what he can to get to the bottom of it, turning you towards him, his brows creased in worry as he tries to get you to talk. Refuse and he’ll just keep pestering you, keeping you by his side all day until you break.

If you act completely normal, saying nothing is wrong when he asks, smiling and just being your normal self. He is especially confused. And he’s still not letting you leave his side. You can’t escape him. His worry will continue to eat at him and he won’t stop until he gets an answer. Communication is important to him in a relationship.

(That or he thinks it’s because he smoked recently. So he might brush his teeth and try again, hoping you’ll not wipe his kiss away this time.)

Now. If you reveal it was a trend, expect a grumpy Price.

“I can’t do shit anymore. Not even kiss my partner normally.” Spoken in a rumble while he has his arms crossed.

Please go make it up to him. Press short kisses on his face, kiss him to show you do actually want his affection and love and he’ll forgive you rather quickly.

Unless you smirked and did it to him twice. Then the hurt has festered a little deeper than in the moment surface level. Just go talk to him. It’s the best solution. Have a good heart to heart, he’ll forgive you in the end. Again though, give him kisses. Slow and sweet will win him back.

As self-assured and confident as he is, even he needs reassurance.

[lunarw0rks]

TF 141 as Hozier songs

A/N: I love hozier so much. genuinely listen to his songs for inspo while writing quite often. here's some of the sounds that remind me of the 141 boys. I seen others doing this w/ their fav artists/songs, so here's my version. Warning(s): nsfw + sfw, established relationship, trauma mention, fluff/smut/angst, basically. // Word Count: 1.5k

☆ MAIN MASTERLIST ☆ 141 MASTERLIST ☆ ASK BOX

『 PRICE 』

As It Was: And tell me if somehow Some of it remained How long would you wait for me? How long I've been away The shape that I'm in now You're shaping the doorway Make your good love known to me Just tell me about your day

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ A relationship with Price is anything but triumphant. His lovers spend more time waiting for him than with him, yet you've stuck around long enough to savor every waiting moment.

The putter of your heart and foot against the floor as you wait for that door to open. Finally greeted with the rugged man after several months, in various battered states every time.

But there aren't powerful conversations paired with physical leaps of joy; all he wants is someone to wait for him. To love him, despite the state he's in when he comes home. It's the little things.

Eat Your Young: I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to somethin' Let me wrap my teeth around the world Start carvin', darlin', I want to smell the dinner cookin' I want to feel the edges start to burn Honey, I want to race you to the table If you hesitate, the gettin' is gone

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ All of Price's restraint is out the window once he comes home to you; finding you in your natural stated. Relaxed and waiting for him to arrive.

Forget the filling meal — his hunger is much deeper than any entrée on the stove.

It's become a game of sorts, the race to the finish with every step. To peel your dressings, to fumble through his with haste, to wrap his lips around your warm body and feast.

Movement: When you move I can recall something that's gone from me When you move Honey, I'm put in awe of something so flawed and free So move me, baby Shake like the bough of a willow tree You do it naturally

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Nothing is more natural to him than his love and need to observe. All your flaws, all your frustrations, every little bit of you in his sights — they're savored.

Whether it be your quirks, your qualms for the day, or the way you've come undone from his famished hands.

There's nothing more cherished, either a mundane act or a carnal one. They matter most to him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

『 SIMON 』

To Be Alone: Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes I feel like a person for a moment of my life You don't know what hell you put me through To have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He had to get used to being loved, being touched by another person who didn't want to make him bleed.

The sensations of being human, being present rather than lost in his void of memories — it's foreign.

You've made him feel resuscitated as if the blood finally pumped through his veins once again. Now, he's forced to cope with being a person again, plunged headfirst into the agonizing act of loving another soul unconditionally.

Arsonist's Lullabye: When I was a child I'd sit for hours Staring into open flame Something in it had a power Could barely tear my eyes away // Don't you ever Tame your demon But always keep 'em on a leash

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Spent hours in his childhood disassociating, finding mindless ways to pass his miserable time. Especially as an adolescent, any time away from home was desirable, even if it meant being troublesome.

The military was his only escape, yet the phantoms of his past never left him.

Simon wasn't sure he wanted them to, either. They're such a vibrant portion of his whole being, and he despises it. But he keeps them around to be the soldier he needs to be.

In The Woods Somewhere: I raised myself My legs were weak I prayed my mind be good to me An awful noise filled the air I heard a scream in the woods somewhere

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Simon's flashbacks were always vivid and as agonizing as the moment in time he endured them. The worst of them all, the most suffocating — the day he was buried alive.

Every ounce of his strength to get out of that box, his muscles burning and exhausted.

The screams he's heard haunt him; civilians, hostiles, his family that had been slaughtered. They taunt his ears as if he's suffocating alone all over again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

『 SOAP 』

Work Song: When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ When Soap is with someone he's whipped.

That's what makes leaving you so hard, especially when there's no guarantee he'll be home by the end of the run. His letters, his tags, and the cherished memories might be all you have left.

But even in death, he's with you; no matter how hard the journey it will be when that inevitable day comes.

Dinner & Diatribes: Honey I laugh when it sinks in A pillar I am of pride Scarcely can speak for my thinking What you'd do to me tonight

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He's an arrogant lover, oozing pride and vigor with every move he makes on you. Oh, how he loves to have you at his mercy — but how he loves being at yours.

Keep him in the dark, surprise him; let mounds of restraint double the reward, and he's yours. Wrapped around your finger and ravenous for the coquetting you indulge in together — and more.

Moments Silence (Common Tongue): Who views the deed as power's creed, as pure authority This moment's silence when my baby puts the mouth on me // Like a heathen clung to the homily Let the reason come on the common tongue of your loving me So summon on the pearl rosary Let the reason come on the common tongue of your loving me

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ His carnal need for you is never satiated, it's ever-lasting and as ferocious as his mouth. Soap's wicked tongue, either occupied on you or tight against the roof of his mouth when he clenches his jaw.

There's no act lovesome enough, not in comparison to your wicked tongue devouring him in all ways.

Whether spouting back and clashing with his pride or silencing him with lascivious ecstasy in the most biblical form — it's your choice.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

『 GAZ 』

NFWMB: 'Cause the rest of you, the best of you Honey, belongs to me // Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing can get a look in on my baby // If I was born a blackthorn tree I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you Fuel the pyre of your enemies

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ If there's one sure trait of Gaz, it's covetousness. However, only where you're concerned. Though you aren't a possession, nor a warm body to be claimed, and never viewed as one — you're his.

It better be clear, too, and not from your side. It's his job to keep the envious eyes and acquisitive palms far from you.

There's no doubt in his mind that you're devoted, either. It's the sick world around him he lacks trust with — stemming from the depravity he's witness to each day.

Talk: Imagine being loved by me I won't deny I've got in my mind now All the thing I would do // How I'm imaginin' you I'd be the last shred of truth In the lost myth of true love I'd be the sweet feeling of release

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ His hands; calloused and ever-useful to you. The scars that litter them are a patent voucher of all they've been through — all they've done to keep the world clean.

Through his walls, and the subconscious armor that he uses as his protection, he's a whole new man. You seemingly materialized into his life, intertwining yourself with every bit of him — in every way. Your body knew it, too, as did his.

He'll have you yearning for his touch — the sweet release it gives you. It's the least he can do, considering all he asks in return is loyalty, and that's what he's gotten.

Sunlight: Oh, and these colors fade for you only Hold me, carry me slowly, my sunlight // Each day, you'd rise with me Know that I would gladly be The Icarus to your certainty Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Few people see the tenderness deep within his rigid exterior, and for good reason. It's intentional, who does or doesn't get a glimpse of his most merciful portion.

You, devoted and accepting of his demanding lifestyle, have earned that right. No matter how far he is, you know you're both watching the same burning star in the sky.

Kyle was in deep; like all his foes, you become the forefront of his psyche, his reason for getting home — the face he sees when looking at the sunlight.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Thanks for reading this far! <3

`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · divider cred. - cafekitsune

[caxsthetic]

WITH EACH FLAW — hirugami sachirou

In which Hirugami believed everyone around him was perfect. And he wanted nothing but to be like them. Especially when you were also one in his eyes.

Hirugami Sachirou always strived for perfection.

Ever since he saw the way his older brother got into prestigious schools, well-known to be the star athlete, beating even his upperclassmen — Sachirou believed he could do the same. He always adored volleyball. Seeing how those boys and girls his age were flying so high to either block the incoming ball, or spike through the opponent’s field.

It was always a mesmerising sight. Especially the tears in those eyes after a match. Whether their team wins or loses, each drop of it becomes a proof of their hard work.

He wanted to be a part of it so bad. To feel the euphoria, the fiery emotion of those who play volleyball passionately. It took him years to realise that maybe, he wasn’t cut out for it.

His calloused fingers subconsciously caressed his left knuckles. Covered with gauze as he once again, accidentally scraped the back of his hand to the stone walls he passed when he walked home from school. 

If Hoshiumi heard about it, oh he knew he was in for a scolding. That friend of his wasn’t really the quiet type of guy. But he could be like a little angry bird yapping about how he shouldn’t have done it. 

Sure Hoshiumi was calm and collected when he first saw the middle blocker do it for the first time back in the day. But when he found his friend did it again sometimes, he would grit his teeth and shout at him to take care of it.

It wasn’t like Hirugami was a man who liked to hurt himself. The act was more like some kind of punishment to himself. His subconscious mind did it. Whenever he felt like a failure that day. Probably from not being able to focus one hundred percent at practice or feeling god damn awful at some sparring match with another school.

Just like today. Stupidly, just like today, of all the time this week.

It was the time where you would visit him. The last time he saw you was three months ago. Before the start of Spring High-Nagano Prefecture Representative Playoffs. Now, Kamomedai has of course made it to the top 16, and will be participating in the Spring High National Tournament.

He wondered if you would be there too. Supporting your high school. Just like how you always did back when you wore the same uniform as his. 

“I will miss you.”

The day finally came. Hirugami thought he would be ready for this moment. “It’s weird to not be able to go to school with you, Sachi.” But as he hugged you tight, patting your head to ease your mind as you sob in his arms, he realised he wasn’t. 

“Hey now, it’s just a four hour ride between us.”

You had known him since diapers. Your house was basically side by side, spending every day together as both of your parents had been best friends since your family moved here. But now, you have to move again. Your father got a promotion and was assigned to Tokyo.

There was nothing you could do but follow them. Much to your dismay.

It was time for you to go. But your parents let you say goodbye to the Hirugami family. They knew how much you cherished your time here. Your childhood was a great one, filled with laughter and love from a lot of people. So for you to leave it behind, leaving Sachirou behind — it would need time for you to adjust to your new life.

The sun hadn’t even come out from its hiding place. No one could see the tears glossed in his chocolate orbs as he kept you there in his embrace. The sky was still dark. And none of you had the heart to let go of each other. “We will text each other, (Y/n). You don’t have to worry about anything.”

You nodded. He could feel it with the way your head was still snuggled deep on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He felt like his heart was so close to failing. Hirugami thought he would have time to be with you. He already made sure no boys ever get too close to you. His figure by your side was enough to intimidate them. But now, you would be a hundred miles apart.

It tortured him when he had to pull away. The footsteps of your parents reminding you and him that it was time to go. “I will see you later, (Y/n).”

There was no goodbye. He believed there wasn’t. Not when he could always take the train. Not when you could also do the same, visiting each other once in a while.

The two of you would make time.

Even though perhaps, it wouldn’t be much, but… he was glad the bond between you two never snapped. He just hoped that one day, it would be stronger. Even compared to now.

“Sachi~!” He flinched when he heard that familiar voice calling out his name. His hand immediately found its usual hiding spot – his pocket. “Hey, Sachi! Auntie said you have practice today, so I decided to check on it. Is it over?”

“Hey, (Y/n)! Yes, it’s done, actually.” There you were. Always a sight to see. His lips curled into a smile when you met him halfway. Jogging excitedly towards him once he looked at you. “Sorry.”

“Why in the world would you apologise?!” You hissed. Your banana coloured tracksuit made you look so bright under the evening sky. Then again, even if you wore all black, he would still think you were brighter than the stars up there. “I should have asked too before. I could tell my Coach that I needed to go to Nagano, he would have understood.”

You met his pace. Walking beside your childhood friend with the usual comforting atmosphere surrounding the two of you. “I am sorry too, for not being able to visit the last few months.”

“You shouldn’t have to apologise too.” He chuckled, seeing the pout that now formed on your face. “We were both in different school, different cities now. Both also teenagers who had too much on their plate. Busy with activities, right?”

Your eyes darted towards his figure. No longer on the road. Hirugami was afraid that you could see him through sometimes. Your eyes were calculating, always being able to read people’s mind with their behaviour and choice of words. But thankfully, you never poke him about it. Being mindful of his — issues.

“You’re right.” 

You kicked the pebbles on the street, probably hitting yourself in the head for not being able to make time to visit. It wasn’t like you were the only one. Hirugami was supposed to be the one who went to Tokyo this month, and yet he couldn’t with how stressful the sparring matches were these days. 

Even before you moved out of town, you often blamed yourself when things didn’t go how you wanted it to be. For example, in the first year of middle school. You helped your school volleyball’s team get footage of the opponent’s match. There was an option to send it, or you could pick it up.

You chose the former. But it never arrived even until the match ended.

It ended with a loss from their team, and he found you crying outside the gymnasium a few minutes after. You were not even the manager, just a girl whose best friend was a part of the volleyball team. Nothing else but that.

And yet you were so hard on yourself. Putting the blame on you, even when you weren’t the one in the field. 

In a way, Hirugami realised that the two of you were similar.

Not the same, but quite mirroring each other.

Always picking on one’s flaw, the mistake that was made. Even though it was probably not something to be considered as a mistake to begin with. 

The walk back home was always filled with silence. Most of the time it was. And the two of you never complained about it. The comfortable silence was one you always missed. Nagano wasn’t like Tokyo. The night wasn’t as bizarre and loud. It was peaceful here.

Just like all the time you spent with Hirugami. And oftentimes, you wondered if he knew how much of the effect that he had on your life.

“Do you want to buy something?” His voice was gentle as he pointed his hand towards the convenience store. “That one is new, and there’s a strawberry ice cream.”

“Oh, you would love that, wouldn't you?” You let out a chuckle, remembering how he used to eat that flavour every time you went out somewhere. “Sure, let’s go!”

You bought one strawberry ice cream in a cup, while he decided to go with the cone one. Unlike him, you couldn’t eat fast. You once bought the cone with him back in middle school, a chocolate flavoured one. It was all dripping down the road like some kind of blood on the pavement.

Whenever you walked past the garden near the suburb, you would be able to see it. Despite four years having passed ever since then, the remnants of such a tragic waste of an ice cream was still visible. “I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, it’s never gone.” Hirugami knew what you meant by your exasperated sigh. You sat on the same bench from that time, and your eyes instantly went down to the tree across from you. “It’s cute, isn’t it? Only the two of us knew what the dots meant. Do you know that some kids said it was blood from scary killers that the murderer never found?”

“That thing exists?!”

“Uhuh! They believed it when their parents used it to scare them away. To make sure those kids didn’t roam around alone, you know?”

“Adults, I swear to God.”

Then another silence engulfed the two of you. You were often curious when the talkative Sachirou slowly lost its will to talk. After your parents had to move away to another town, you followed them. Despite still being in contact with your childhood friend, just like what he said, it wasn’t the same.

Not when you two, who used to spend every waking hour together, reduced to be mere friends who were one type away. You wouldn’t lie that sometimes, you missed that childhood of yours. But people come and go, indeed. You should have been grateful he never truly left.

Ever since you walked with him. Your eyes kept going to the hand that he kept inside his pocket. You wanted to ask. So many times you were curious why.

But if he didn’t want to talk about it, then, who were you to ask?

You were not that close anymore. Despite how every time you spent time with him felt like you never parted ways, you knew the bond between you two wasn’t as tight as before. It wasn’t as grandiose, getting thinner by each day that passed.

“How is your day in Tokyo?”

“Itachiyama is hella good indeed.” You whispered under your breath. Hissing a bit when the ice cream numbs your gums for a second there. “I watched the Volleyball team practise sometimes. Everyone is top notch. They came from private middle school, most of them are.”

“Anyone caught your eye?”

“There is this one guy…”

Hirugami was only trying to tease you. He didn’t expect that immediate answer. “Sakusa Kiyoomi. He’s a little bit weird, closed off and all.” He didn’t expect his heart to ache when you continued your words. “But I never saw someone as resilient as him at the court. His body’s also flexible, like a human thin metal.”

This was what he always feared ever since you moved to Tokyo. For you to find someone to admire, to spend your time with. Replacing the place that once belonged to him.

He shouldn’t have felt jealous when he saw you talking about someone else. Shouldn’t have been so upset when he never said anything regarding his feelings towards you. It was his fault for not making a move, always believing there would be a proper time for that.

Now though, for someone who could read the action that the opponent would take at the court, he couldn’t even read this predicament he had with you. He was unsure how the future would unravel. No longer he hoped things would bloom into something more between you and him.

“He sounds perfect.” He whispered, finishing the strawberry ice cream that started to drip down the pavement. “The perfect athlete, I knew him. Saw his profile in one of the magazines a few months ago.”

His voice was slightly laced with bitterness. If you notice it, he was glad you didn’t try to point it out.

Sakusa Kiyoomi. A man he never was. An athlete he could never be. He wondered what was going inside your mind when you talked about the man. There was this amusement visible on your face. He was curious, but he didn’t want to ask about it.

Hirugami was afraid that the answer — would only tear the last part of his confidence of having you.

“Perfect, huh?” You mused, your peripheral vision caught his slightly slouched figure. “I don’t think there’s ever a man who could be considered perfect. Humans were bound to have flaws.” Your friend was deep in his thoughts, probably one that ruined himself. 

“Flaws, I don’t like having too much of it.”

“I know.” You whispered, barely above a whisper because you never once wanted to reveal this part of you. “It’s instinct sometimes. We want to do our best when we do something, especially the one that we love.”

“Yeah, it’s awful if I can’t do things right.’

“Is it volleyball?” Hirugami was taken aback by your question. “Or is there something else that you are trying to say to me?” The way your eyes lingered on him this time as you scoot closer to him on this small bench. “Which flaw is running in your head this time, Sachi?”

Every one of them.

He wanted to say it out loud. He wanted to just tell you that he had this huge storm that never once ended. That threw him to the ground whenever he just spread his wings to fly. And maybe, that same storm was the reason why never said anything about his feelings harboured towards you.

Because how would he be supposed to love you when even he couldn’t love himself entirely? He couldn’t give everything, not when he too was unwhole.

He could only give you slivers of his heart. And for someone who cared for him with every fibre in their being, you didn’t deserve to receive just some specks of dust.

“It’s volleyball.” He lied again. “I made a mistake today. I calculate their movement wrong. My fingertips couldn’t reach the ball on time, and—”

“Just one.” In the middle of having his mind running hundred miles per hour, he didn’t realise that you took his left hand out of his pocket. “You only made one mistake, Sachi. It was nothing compared to all of your success in the match today, I am sure of that.”

He panicked inside. The way your fingertips gently traced his covered knuckles. It warmed him up inside, but, Please don’t ask. Don’t ask about it, please. Please. Please. He wasn’t ready if he had to answer what happened.

“But I—”

“You are still the Sachi I knew since I was a kid, despite all of the flaws and mistakes you have made along the way.” Your words became a lullaby. Allowing the creepy monster residing in his head to sleep for a while. “Aren’t I the same in your eyes? I made mistakes too, Sachi, I did things that I can’t even forgive myself sometimes, but I am still your childhood friend, right?”

“Of course.” He could answer it in a heartbeat. “You will always be my — friend.”

You peered at his face, smiling softly that if he couldn’t compose himself, the tip of his ears might redden. There were so many things running inside his head. Worry, anxiety, anger, everything were addressed to himself.

Only when he was around you that sometimes, that negativity slightly pushed under the rug. He hoped that one day, he could brace himself to let you in completely.

After he healed himself, maybe he would.

After he was ready to embrace the fact that perfection wasn’t something a human should ever strive for, he would.

His chocolate orbs locked with yours. You two always ignored the physical boundary in between you two. Snuggled with each other to find comfort. Your chin rested on his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but boop your nose with his forefinger, earning a small glee to tumble down from your lips.

Hirugami was honestly unsure of how the future would unfold between you and him. He knew he had to grow, to be a better person. Before he asks you out properly, you deserve the whole part of him first. 

But he didn’t have to be - perfect, now he knew that.

Because despite all of the flaws he had, you would never look at him less.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Awww I just read part of Ruston. Can u write some hc about him?

I got some little domestic headcanons about him for you! ^_^

W: mention of nsfw and breeding

Cooking

Ruston loves to cook for you. Nothing makes him happier than seeing you munching on something he made. 

He’s been cataloging all your favorite foods over the years and from sneaking into your house he knows what you eat regularly, so he’s sure to stock what you like 

Even though he is busy he is a pack creature and likes to have a sit down dinner at the table when he can. Sometimes he has members of his pack over, but he really cherishes the dinners the two of you have.

He’s SO excited for dinners with his family when the two of you have pups. 

As a firefighter, he can’t be home every night but he’s gotten used to food prepping and his house always smells like something is in his crockpot, so there is always something warm to eat at home. 

What drives him crazy is tasting food off of you! Even if it is just licking a bit of syrup off of your skin after you’ve had his pancakes. The flavor of you, mixed with food is maddening and usually ends up with both of you naked. 

Hobbies

As a pack leader he’s a bit of a caretaker at heart and is happiest when he can be nurturing you in some way 

He's really busy so most of his leisure time is spent with you or with the pack hanging out. He's very social and likes being surrounded by his pack and pups playing games or just relaxing and talking, watching the pups play

He likes teaching you new skills if you are interested in learning and is always giving suggestions. One of his flaws is that he tends to mansplain if you let him go on, but it’s always with good intentions and he usually catches himself. 

He likes seeing you interacting with his pack, especially the children. While you are first starting out he encourages the moms to leave their pups with you sometimes when he can’t be home and they need a break so you aren’t lonely and to help you integrate into the pack. 

Of course, he’s a little jealous that they aren’t his pups, yet, but pack pups are pretty close. It’s just a little preview of what your life will be like in a few short years when he’s successfully bred you. 

Sitting around a bonfire talking with his pack with you in his lap and his little pups playing in the background is exactly how he pictures his future

When you are sick

When you are sick, Ruston is lighting up the stove and researching nutrient rich human stews to nurse you back to health.

He lets you ball up in his warm fur when you are cold with the chills and puts cold packs on your head. 

He is jumpy when it comes to the doctor and has to be convinced not to take you in immediately, since humans are so much more delicate than wolves. Even when you try to convince him humans get sick occasionally and it’s not a big deal he’s prepped with all of the statistics about how many people the common flu kills every year. 

When he finally does get his way and takes you in he practically terrorizes the whole staff with his intense hovering. 

They end up having to move an entire shelf and a whole bunch of equipment out of your hospital room to give him space to fit his big body in the corner so he can loom.

Finally, they end up having to treat you from his lap where he’s pulled you because you look too frail and delicate in the hospital bed and he needs to hold you

Of course, no one wants to argue with the 500 lb wolf baring his teeth at the staff so the nurses give in and you end up receiving care from his lap

[pupmkincake2000]

Speaking about that "found family" thing I hear too often now in this fandom... There seems to be an implication that romantic relationships cheapen a bond, or a story, or a character, and I honestly really resent that. Especially with DBH.

Found family is one of my favorite tropes, but can your partner not be your family? Is your partner not your friend, your confidant, and the person that helps you heal and uplifts you? Those things aren’t locked to just platonic or familial relationships. In terms of HankCon,

I think their story is one of the best examples of healing. Hank has lost everything to androids, he hates them and the world. Until you have Connor, who comes into his life and not only helps save the Android race but Hank too. He becomes his friend, his partner in crime (literally), and in my opinion, his romantic partner that loves him in all his flaws and pain.

I think a man falling in love with an Android, after having so much pain and hatred toward them, and having THAT person be the one to heal and love him. It’s a beautiful story and it’s unfortunate it gets so little respect in some areas of this fandom.

The most interesting part is also that people who are usually against HankCon, they seem like the ones who are applying their personal feelings and issues to the characters.

They’re so desperate for Hank to see Connor as his son that they’re willing to ignore actual, thought out theories and interpretations; as well as harass and bully those who see them as romantic. They take it as a person offense and that’s weird. Maybe they’re the ones who have “daddy issues” (because it is the strongest argument they usually use against shippers) since they need Hank to be Connor’s dad so badly.

I, personally, don’t need another father. I don’t want Hank to be my father or see him that way. I’m an adult who sees these two other adults as romantic.

I mean I’m not saying EVERYONE who hates HankCon wants Hank to be his dad, but the ones who are strongly Anti-HankCon and will beat you down teeth and nail… it does seem a bit odd, and I do feel like there might be some projection there. Even in other fandoms where people INSIST on platonic/familial relationships between two characters that aren’t, I wonder about this same thing. Definitely a pattern I’m noticing, especially since a lot of the platonic/familial people seem to be on the younger side.

[freakyjustgotfabulous]

One thing I will never understand about people who say they grew up with the OG MH g1 and loved it soooo much is how little they took away from it. And I don't just mean the message of being yourself and loving your freaky flaws and being kind to everyone else (Extreme side eye to everyone who called g3 Drac obese, was racist about g3 Lagoona, and is bitching that Catty is fat now). But like, as someone who grew up with g1, and we're talking, knew these dolls existed before they hit shelves (R.I.P. EverythingGirl.com), a huge thing I and a ton of the other weird freaky girls of the era, both in the targeted age range and older collectors wished would happened was that Mattel would go more into the monstrous sides/aspects of the characters. A little more dark humor in the webisodes or something akin to really, how g3 is now.

Like, I know nostalgia blinds people rose tinted glasses blah blah whatever but that is wild to me that some of the people now (Yeah, ik they prob don't watch any of g3 but still), don't like that aspect? Especially with Lagoona??? I'm sorry but even when I was like, 12 I thought Lagoona would be the perfect character to have as she is now. She's a sea monster so that's perfect when it comes to leaning into more of her monstrous attributes like scales and rows of sharp teeth, as well as like, the fact that while she is a main character, she isn't one of the main three, so they could let a lil more slide. Like in the live action when she was like "Do you want me to eat him?" And started roaring? Yes!!!! That is what I'm here for!!! The comments she's made in g3? Her mannerisms? Her always readiness to eat someone or fuck shit up? Yes!!!!! That's my girl!!!!!

No disrespect to g1 Lagoona but she was literally just the Australian surfer girl trope for the most part, I'm sorry. Like, she had cute dolls and was an alright character, but she came off a bit more bland.

(Then again I'm always a sucker for the scary monster girl that will eat you and cause terror and destruction but also turns out to be a secret hopeless romantic trope. Like, literally me fr. So I'm a bit biased.)

But Lagoona aside, regardless we have an series now where it actually talks about monster lore and we get slightly darker humor and there is an episode where Draculaura literally decomposes and this is the one people hate??? Do y'all not remember being weird 12 year old girls and wishing Mattel would have the balls to do this??? Couldn't be me.

(Also yeah there is something to be said about how shitty some of the g1 fans have been but I'll say that later.)

[alex-rambles]

When you were writing, how did you manage to make the characters be like so in character? Especially Bill since he’s such a complex and chaotic character and yet you still managed to write him as in character as possible. I want to write one shots and fanfics and what not but I’m always afraid the characters I write about won’t be really them if that makes sense.

Oh damn you think Bill's in character? Thank you! I've never had other writers ask me for advice (that I can remember)

Well, the simple answer? Write. Immerse yourself in the character in question. It is far easier for me because I spent two years hyperfixated on him, and only spent around the last year publishing anything to do with him.

For things Bill-specific, some general things I keep in mind are the many, many analyses of Bill by @eldragon-x, as well as my own headcanons, and things displayed in the show. In general, Bill is most definitely a "not like other girls" type with an eccentric personality. He's a self-centered man child. He adores the odd, the unusual. And yet despite how much he claims to adore sheer chaos, he plans intricately, and gets mad when his chess pieces aren't where he wants them. Combined with his obvious sadistic streak, this results in him doing bizarre things to distress others ("how 'bout instead I shuffle the functions of every hole in your face?").

Bill wants all his boundaries respected, but everyone else's can just cease to exist for all he cares. "Rules for thee but not for me." He is a hypocrite.

I consider him to be am extremely empathetic individual- who simply prefers to either shove it down, or use his ability for his nefarious purposes. A "dark empath," if you will.

So, if Bill were to fall in love, by extension, although he's still a little freak who likes removing deer teeth, he uses his empathy in a better way- for you. He actually puts effort into working on himself- for you.

Falling in love would be one of the best things to happen to him, because it'd give Bill a real shot at redemption and allow him to become more self aware, and less of a man-child.

Of course yan Bill is completely different. Doesn't try to change. You'll love him in time. Doesn't work on himself, you'll learn to appreciate his red flags flaws. Becomes even worse of a man child, because you're not listening!

But really, find what works for you. As I've said, I went through a phase where I could endlessly consume Bill content, and watch Gravity Falls over and over. I know him like the back of my hand at this point because of how long I would spend researching him, and then writing him.

So write! Write, even if you don't publish it. Write! Go write! Do it!

Anyways, I hope this helps! I'm always open to writing tips, even if I'm not accepting headcanon requests! Always happy to help my fellow writers.

[the--journeys]

Talk Shop Tuesday: as someone relatively “new” to the fandom, tell us more of what you thought you’d find vs. what you did (aka more thots on the tags of the woobified peter post)

hooooooo boyyyyyy.

Peter Parker has always been my Boy. As someone who read the comics first, to find out that most comics purists hated MCU spidey was so surprising to me, because while there are Many problems with the MCU adaptation of Spider-Man (many of them revolving around Tony Stark, yes) I still think that MCU Peter has the Essence?

MCU Peter dies and walks it off. Gets a building dropped on him and walks it off. Almost gets shot point-blank and walks it off??? To log into tumblr.com for the first time in many, many years and see MCU spidey largely regarded as some uwu, noob of a character was cognitive dissonance.

Until. I read a few fics! And suddenly it all made sense.

I still don't trust comics fans who hate MCU Peter for uwu reasons simply because that isn't Him, and that can be true while also being annoyed at the way fannish works have bred this misconception of who MCU Peter is.

Writing MCU Peter into a world where he calls Tony Stark "dad" or calls the other Avengers to come save him at the drop of a hat is not illegal. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions and interpretations of media, but I PERSONALLY believe it's a disservice to Peter Parker's character to file down his nails and teeth because doing so erases not only his competence and tenacity but also! His flaws!

Most (I'm sure there are exceptions but I'm yet to see them) of these worlds created to showcase MCU Peter Parker as a soft li'l bean do not allow Peter to keep his ego, selfishness, or even his optimism? He is a "perfect" little child, a kid with a boatload of trauma but whose coping mechanisms have been changed from kicking the shit out of criminals to??? cuddling?? on the couch??

It does not make sense. To me. In MY mind palace. Peter Parker is a fascinating character (and has been since his conception decades ago) in large part BECAUSE of his flaws. To take them away leaves a character who is boring, flat, and also... Not Peter Parker lmao.

And on TOP of this, to have hate directed at MCU Peter not because of how he's actually portrayed but because of how fandom has massacred him and to see how that hate gets translated into cries that the MCU has "ruined spider-man," or is "the worst spider-man adaptation" when it's the only Spider-Man adaptation to feature POC in really any sense, and especially as Peter's friends/love interests/supporting characters? side EYE.

I love me some media critique! I am a believer that Disney made so many Wrong choices with the MCU, with Spider-Man in particular. But so much MCU Spider-Man critique is actually fandom critique without being labeled as such, and it has an effect on attitudes regarding characters who are portrayed by POC. MCU Spider-Man doesn't do right by its POC lmao, but fandom's psdeudo-straw man hatred of MCU Spidey Isn't Helping.

All this to say, I avoid teen!Peter now in fics now unless I recognize/trust the author, and MCU critique is only as good as the author's understanding of the actual MCU versus fandom's portrayal of it.

[takaraphoenix]

On the one hand do I understand latching onto the main character on a show. And I even understand protectiveness over one's favorite character. What I don't understand is the inability to see that not everything is for everyone and with a broad variety of tastes and of other characters available, people may just latch onto someone else.

Especially since main characters are tricky.

Protagonistic main characters always carry this heavy burden of having to be pure of heart and intentions, forgiving and accepting, trying to find the good and right solution. Be good.

In my experience, that's a tightrope to balance.

A character who exclusively stands for everything good and pure and right in the world can easily turn mind-numbingly boring. For various reasons even. Maybe because the audience feels preached to. Maybe because flaws and bad choices give flavor. Maybe because always doing the Good And Right Thing gets too predictable. Maybe because the audience's core-values clash with those of the main character.

Secondary main characters are usually free of these burdens. They get to mess up - sometimes, it is even vital for the story that they mess up specifically so the protagonist has something to fix or gets an opportunity to show their goodness in comparison.

There's edges and roughness and flaw in secondary main characters that too many primary main characters aren't allowed.

Not all! There are plenty titular leads who get to mess up, who get to be mean and rude and make bad choices and be selfish and loud and take up space (looking at you, Buffy Summers, my beloved).

But too many writers are afraid that these "flaws" somehow cut into the goodness and righteousness of their protagonist in some way. When all it really does is show that they're human.

Doesn't mean people can't latch onto the characters who supposedly do everything right, or are overly good, or are shining examples of morality and forgiveness and rainbows and kittens. Heck, sometimes that's even very nice, sometimes I like that too, because it's easy and sometimes, easy is nice. I love Clark Kent, who always holds out his hand to help even those who hurt him and who looks at the world with endless optimism and the fundamental belief that there is good in the people around him (he hopes and forgives because that's his only option because he is too powerful to do anything else, otherwise he'll make himself a god, so he has to believe the good in people will make them make the right choice on their own).

Sometimes, easy is also boring. Sometimes, easy rubs me the wrong way. Sometimes, easy isn't enough.

Because depending on the execution of forgiveness and righteousness and goodness, it makes me bare my teeth and recoil. When it shouldn't be that easy, when it shouldn't be forgiven that easily, when the good and righteous solution isn't satisfying, when the crime deserves a punishment and not a hug and a 'you're part of the team now, bud', when you know that the 'no kill' solution will just inevitably lead to the problem returning and getting worse, when revenge would be so much sweeter than forgiveness.

Because not everything has to be a rainbow colored Saturday morning cartoon with a happy end resolution and I'm not that little girl who wants everyone to always get along anymore.

I'm the vindictive woman who holds grudges and thinks forgiveness shouldn't be handed out like candy on Halloween but should be hard-earned and that redemption and forgiveness don't have to go hand-in-hand, just because they're being redeemed doesn't mean they have to or should be sticking around right here, with the very people they hurt in the past. An eye for an eye is more tantalizing than hugging it out, sometimes.

I like my protagonists flawed. Struggling. Not just struggling with the plot but maybe struggling with themselves, with their own morals, with the decisions they have to make.

If they don't have to fight for it, if it is all handed to them because the writers are too afraid of conflict and don't want to make their protagonist selfish, if they are assigned the high moral compass and the good righteous decisions and if they keep forgiving and giving second chances, even when it's been proven again and again that this route only leads to more problems...

...Well, I'll go ahead and sink my teeth into the broken ones that lash out and want revenge and fuck up along the way and have to fight for what they have, even when it's taken away from them, even when they are forced to lose it or mess up to make the protagonist look better.

[pidgeon-brained]

Coded in Betrayal

You guys remember an hour ago how I said I was gonna write Secret Life SMP fics? And also uh. You guys notice that Ren isn't present in Secret Life? Yeah. I'm crazy I'll be honest.

Also, prerequisite to the fic, I write Ren with a nasty little capability to jump into servers wherever and whenever he feels like it. Anyway! Fic below

Ren tapped impatiently at the screen, it worked best if he got into the world at the same time as everyone else. Especially if he wasn't invited. Getting into the server with everyone else meant that he was more likely to be read as a player, rather than a bug in the code. He typed away at the screen, fruitlessly trying to get into the server. He didn't understand why he hadn't been allowed to join. It just didn't make sense, this was the second world in a row he had been excluded from. There wasn't any reason for it!

Well. . . okay. Maybe there was a reason. But it wasn't even a big deal! Ren didn't know why the Watcher's were so particular about it! So what if he kept his memories, so what if Ren didn't want to give up what he knew? It had started with the first series. Dogwarts. Martyn.

They were a duo, sworn to each other's lives. He had made Martyn kill him, had thrown himself in front of his loyal servant and presented his neck. And oh how he begged, and oh how Martyn had swore he couldn't. And oh how it ached to be killed. And yet. . . hadn't it be worth it?

And Ren had kept the memories, he couldn't let go of them. Couldn't let go of the tragedy of dying in that brutal war. He couldn't forget his perceived tragedy, his perceived betrayal of Martyn. He had left Martyn alone to die in that war, he was a terrible king.

So Rendog hadn't exactly been banned from the next season, rather, he hid from it. Holed up in a void space and begged to be left alone. Because he couldn't let go of something Martyn wouldn't even remember. He couldn't stop begging for the forgiveness of a person that didn't know what to forgive him for.

But had Martyn really forgotten? It was part of his code, even if the memory storage had been taken from him, it was as much a part of him as he was a part of Ren. Ren had scarred the code of his beloved, raked sharp teeth against the soft underbelly of forgotten memory. He remembered for them both, because Martyn would only know him in the space between spaces. And so Ren hoped that he was passively forgiven.

And he allowed himself to join the next server.

The next server. Double life, his soulmate. His soulmate that he had desperately hoped to be Martyn. Because BigB was fine, and BigB was wonderful, but BigB was not Martyn. BigB loved him distantly, loved him only because he had no choice, loved him because he was the second best option to Grian. That pesky, pesky bird. He could have loved Martyn! Cleo surely did not! He could have loved him if he had been given the chance!

But he hadn't.

And thus, another season passed, and Ren did not join, could not join. Because he would not let go of the memories of Martyn. He could not betray the memory of a person who still lived. And now a season was passing, and he could not let go. That was the mortal flaw was it not? His inability to let go? He held onto something that didn't hold onto him, digging sharp claws into a corpse of a memory.

Miscellaneous code floated around Ren, illustrating his distaste. This happened always when he was upset, code manifesting around him spiraling from his control. He was once again unable to join the server. The Watcher kept him from his destiny and yet fruitlessly he toiled. He tried one last time to get into the server. Nothing Happened.

Perhaps if Ren had been perceptive in his fiddling, he might have noticed something familiar in the code.

RENTHEDOG HAS LEFT THE GAME

Coded by InTheLittleWood