#(this scene won't though. Not in this form. I changed it)

[appolojustice]

I do think I'm gonna just retcon in my head that Anders+Justice and their whole situation work more similarly to Lucanis+Spite because honestly that's kinda how I've been writing them since like 2016 anyway

[ashtavula]

I am dragging this out, but I love the kiss scenario. Okay, so, let me set the scene. The overblot gang overblots, and almost as soon as they come out of it their S/O would run over to them embrace them, and kiss them in pure relief and joy at them being okay. Reactions?

I am so sorry for taking a while to get to this ;~;

cw: spoilers for all the overblots under the cut

Overblotters react to you kissing them in the aftermath

Riddle:

-He feels like crying. Scratch that, he is crying. When you rush up to him, he immediately reaches out to you, and sobs into the crook of your neck. He blubbers out countless apologies, his words blurring together. Then, you kiss him. You can taste his tears, and he lets out a whimper, his knees buckling. You both crash to the ground, and he continues to cling to you, like a child seeking reassurance. Know that your presence is extremely comforting to him. and that he's more than grateful that you're there even in one of his darkest moments. Even as Ace begins to yell at him, he snuggles close to you, his tears staining your shirt.

Leona:

-You nearly knock him off his feet when you suddenly tackle him. He lets out a huff, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. "Easy, herbivore. No need for all that," he grumbles. Still, he lets you pull him into a kiss. As the others start declaring that they're going to wipe the floor with him in the spelldrive tournament, he takes their ribbing with ease. But you can feel the way he leans on you for support, and you can see that he's more exhausted than he's letting on. Later, he'll collapse on top of you, and sleep until well past the morning, cradling you in his arms.

Azul:

-When he comes to, the first thing he sees is your worried face hovering over him. You gasp, and immediately embrace him. Azul blinks, willing away the tears that are starting to form. You kiss him, and he lets out a muffled whine. He feels pathetic, but your affection is comforting, to say the least. You break away, only for Floyd and Jade to come in to ascertain if Azul truly was alright. Later, when you see the picture of him as a cute, chubby kid, he'll do his best to cover your eyes, and he'll blush when you coo over how adorable he was. Maybe...you don't actually mind how weak he used to be.

Jamil:

-He sighs, and rolls his eyes when you kiss him. "Being worried about someone like me, even after this... You really have no sense of self-preservation, huh?" Despite his harsh words, he holds you close, and buries his face in the crook of your neck. "I'm glad you don't," he mumbles, sagging against your body. When Kalim tries to hug him too, sobbing, Jamil pushes him away, and yells at him. But as he raises his voice, he still remains with you, even covering your ears to make sure he won't hurt you with his volume. When all of this is over, he'll worry about you changing your mind, and deciding that you can do better than a servant who's betrayed his master. For now, though, he's content to have you close, and maybe he'll give you a few more kisses in private to reward you for staying despite everything.

Vil:

-It's over. It's all over. He's shown you the absolute worst side of himself. The petty, jealous, downright ugly part of him hidden deep within his heart. He's fully expecting you to say it's over. So when you instead rush into his arms, crying out in concern for his well-being, he's uncharacteristically silent. He only recovers when you kiss him, showing him proof of your continued affection. He cups your cheek, idly stroking your skin, and he lets out a huff of laughter. He can still feel your kiss on his lips as Malleus repairs the stadium, and as he dances and sings on stage. When it's all over, he'll return to you, weary, but somehow happy. "Come, my little blossom. Stay with me for a while. After all, a queen is nothing without her loyal king."

Idia:

-He's shell shocked, for more reasons than one. Seeing Vil's wrinkled face, losing Ortho again, and now? Now, you're clinging to him and giving him kisses. He stutters over his words, his hair flaming up to a rather familiar pink as his hands flail. He's not sure if he's embarrassed about you kissing him in front of everyone else, or if he's just relieved to still be on the receiving end of your love. After a few moments of unceremonious floundering, he gives in, leaning into your embrace. He sighs deeply as the others start calling out for him to fix the system and seal the gate. Can't he just stay in your arms a little while longer?

Malleus:

-His arms are slow to wrap around you, but he tightens his grip when you tug him into a relieved kiss. He feels...oddly empty inside. He did all of this to keep Lilia, you, and everyone else with him forever. And he figured that this might have been the end. You'd seen just how possessive he could be, and how powerful he was. He wouldn't have blamed you if you'd been scared of him. But here you are, in his arms, right where you belong. Still loving him, despite the things he put you through. He pulls you closer, almost crushing you against his chest. "Don't leave me. Please..."

[solaireverie]

f1 | i'd be the man

summary: [ drabbles ] you're the formula one driver and he's your wag. (aka the toto wolff-ification of the fast car boys)

warnings: mentions of racism and sexism

author's note: i had so much fun coming up with non-f1 jobs 😂 i'm convinced that most of the boys would still be obsessed with f1. considering doing this for other drivers, drop some suggestions? 👀

→ CHARLES LECLERC

Charles is a fashion designer who works for one of your sponsors. You find his designs slightly... peculiar and aren't afraid to tell him. Determined to prove you wrong about his vision, Charles volunteers to be your primary point of contact for your partnership with the fashion house.

Your meetings are contentious in the beginning, neither of you understanding the other. You leave each consultation with a throbbing migraine and a barely suppressed urge to throw something at Charles. If only he weren't so damned stubborn. (At the same time, you know that his passion for his craft is half of why you even deign to meet with him.)

A grudging respect forms between you after months of friction and endless banter about what exactly you want your sponsorship to look like. If hard-pressed, you might even call it a friendship.

Charles has been a Formula 1 fan since childhood and is secretly a fan of yours. You find out after you meet him for a design meeting after a rough race and he suddenly goes on a rant about how the driver who took you out was being ridiculous and how you deserved better. You're completely charmed and interrupt him by asking him out on a date.

He's the absolute best boyfriend that you could ever ask for, following you to all the European races and supporting you from Monaco when he can't make it. Charles delights in being able to provide a bit of stability for you in your hectic life. He puts up photos of your race wins in his studio and proudly tells all of his clients about his girlfriend and her achievements.

(You still won't listen to his fashion advice, though.)

→ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max runs the cat shelter that you adopt your cat from. You notice how cute he is the first time you meet him but you're too shy to make a move — besides, Max cherishes his quiet life and you don't know how open he would be to associating with a public figure like a Formula 1 driver. Still, he's funny and kind and you somehow keep talking.

It starts out innocuously, just pictures and updates about your new cat (because Max cares about all of the cats that he's ever taken care of, even the ones that have been adopted into good homes) and occasional behind-the-scenes updates when you find out that Max likes Formula 1.

Without realizing it, Max becomes one of your closest friends. He catsits for you when you're out of the country for races, picks you up from the airport after international races, and cheerfully beats you at sim racing whenever you have the opportunity to game together.

Max realizes that you're basically dating around a year into your friendship. You sleep at his place, in his bed, more often than not. Sassy likes you more than she likes him. You have his coffee order memorized and he knows your parents. (Your mother adores him and constantly encourages you to make a move.)

He's patient, however, and waits for you to realize your own feelings as well. Dating comes as naturally for you as your friendship did. Although Max doesn't always enjoy the media scrutiny that comes with dating a Formula 1 driver, he takes full advantage of the attention to defend you at any given chance.

In fact, you've been asked multiple times by your team principal to get your boyfriend to calm down before he offends another driver, but you wouldn't change Max for the world.

→ LANDO NORRIS

Lando is a Twitch streamer with a decent following who specializes in gaming, especially e-motorsports. He gets the chance to visit your team's garage when he wins a e-sport tournament. He's an unabashed simp fan and immediately makes a fool of himself when he meets you, but you find it adorable.

(Lando swears up and down to anyone who'll listen that he didn't mean to blush and accidentally propose on the spot.)

You cheekily tell him to take you out on a date first and he surprisingly gets his act together and actually follows through. Lando is incredibly kind and clumsily charming despite his awkward exterior. You can tell that he genuinely likes spending time with you and wants to hear what you have to say.

Lando switches to Youtube and vlogging when your relationship stabilizes so he can spend more time with you. His fans — and yours — love catching glimpses of his elusive Formula 1 driver girlfriend in his videos. It's a running joke among his fans that Lando is your sugar baby, which Lando finds extremely funny and shamelessly accepts.

Eventually, both of you realize that you've found the love of your life and you start thinking about marriage. You propose to each other at the same time, on the vacation that you each planned for the other, while your mutual friends who knew about both sides die of laughter from the sidelines.

Lando insists on taking your name as well and declares that he's now officially your trophy husband.

("Get it? You get trophies from your job, which brought us together, so technically I'm a trophy now too?" "Yes, Lando, I understand double entendres perfectly well." "Ooooh French, fancy!")

→ LEWIS HAMILTON

You meet Lewis in your childhood. He karts at the same track as you and you bond over the shared experience of being "other" from the other drivers. No one ever bets on either of you to be fast, to win, so you bet on each other. Lewis supports you with his entire being, even when he chooses to leave racing to chase other dreams. You dreamed of reaching Formula 1 together but Lewis, in this world, is happy cheering from the paddock.

Everyone around you is convinced that you're dating Lewis, who has become a highly successful model and philanthropist. Who else would would take time out of their insanely busy life to follow you around the world? The closeness between you doesn't help either — Lewis acts like your partner more often than not.

Despite appearances, however, Lewis is just your best friend, and it stays that way until a PR disaster with your respective relationships calls for extensive damage control. The best distraction that your media teams can come up with is that you fake-date each other: what better to appease the masses with than the ever-beloved tale of childhood friends to lovers?

The fake relationship changes something in your previously stable friendship. Suddenly, you can't stop seeing Lewis in a different light and you find yourself wishing that the romance was real. You're terrified of losing one of the most important people in your life, so you keep quiet about your true feelings for months as things calm down.

Eventually, your manager gives the all-clear to end the ruse and you end up scrambling for a reason to maintain it. By that time, Lewis has caught on to you. He stops by one night with a bottle of wine and your favorite movie. As the credits play, he leans over and kisses you softly — the first time he's kissed you out of the eye of the public.

You're lost for words and he quietly assures you that no matter what happens if you pursue a real relationship, he'll always be your Lewis.

Ten years later, happily married with a couple of championships under your belt, you couldn't be happier that you had chosen to say "hi" to the boy at the karting track.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii

[lemon-berri]

Perfume (pt 2)

Satoru has been quiet today. Gone is the usual chatter, the jokes about how his day went. He watches you silently, eyes swimming with a well of emotions.

Every so often, he opens his mouth like he's going to say something. Only to pause, and retreat back into himself.

Life without you for this long has left him broken. He is tired, a husk of a man just going through the motions of daily life. Every day that he wakes without you by his side, he feels a deep, agonising pain in his chest. Like someone has taken out a vital organ and he's fighting to survive.

But he puts on a brave face, for his students, for his friends. For you. He talks to you in a happy tone whenever he visits, just in case you can hear him. Because he doesn't want you to worry unnecessarily.

Though, knowing you, you'd see right through his act.

His eyes trail across the room to the window, he can't tell you this. At least not while he looks at you.

"I had another meeting with the higher ups today.."

Again, hes met with silence. The only response is the gentle sound of your breathing. He has no idea if you're listening but he goes on.

"It's been three months without you now. In case you haven't been keeping track." There's a chuckle, but there's no humour behind it. Rather it's a dark, hopeless sound. "I've been refusing all overseas missions, how can I go anywhere knowing you're...." he can't find the right words. You're not exactly hurt, there's no physical injuries on you. Sleeping seems too simple. Coma too medical -and saying it out loud would make this nightmare too real.

His crystal eyes flit back towards you, only to move down to the floor.

"The pressure built up. They've ordered me to go. I'll be leaving tomorrow, and I'll be gone a week."

"But don't worry. You won't be alone. Everyone promised they'd come to visit you, I made sure of it. I wouldn't want my angel to get lonely without me, yeah?" Satoru tries another chuckle, but this one comes out more like a sob, and he quickly covers his mouth.

He's torn up. He doesn't want to leave your bedside, he'd rather watch the world burn than leave your side. But duty calls, and your friends promised they'd be here. Shoko promised she'd keep him updated too, in case there were any changes.

Satoru is quiet for a little longer, looking at you now, the way your pretty lashes brush against your skin, the way your lips part ever so gently. You're so beautiful it hurts, and the guilt in his stomach is making him feel sick. But he has to go.

Finally, he gets up, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead. He refuses to say goodbye. In his mind, he'll be right back. Instead, he says.

"I love you."

Its not enough to describe the way he feels.

There are so many stairs. Too many stairs. You've gone up at least five thousand steps so far- in a winding tower that seems to stretch for eternity. But you're not tired. Because your physical form isn't here.

You've managed to figure out that this endless tower must be your consciousness. Every time you open a door, a different memory plays out in front of you like a scene in a play, and you quickly close it. The stones are strong, rough and cold. They've been through a lot, but will no doubt last for years to come.

Though you can't figure out where that floral smell is coming from.

You're not here to relive your memories though. You're not here by choice at all. By now you've figured out you're a prisoner in your own mind. And your captor..?

You hear it every so often, a distant growl, followed by a crack.

Tick.

Tick.

BANG.

The sound is one of a wall being broken, and your head pounds, like you've lost some vital part of your very being.

The cursed spirit has somehow managed to trap you within your own consciousness. And it actively seems to be attempting to destroy your mind, your memories.

A weaker person would've succumbed by now, faded into nothing. But you're fighting it. For each mental brick knocked down you put up another. This will not be your end. You will survive. You have to.

You have too much to lose.

If only you could find the wretched creature and finally exorcise it.

You pause to listen, leaning your back against the cold stone wall of the tower. Time passes weirdly in here and you're sure by now people in the real world must be getting worried about you. Your guess is that you must've been in here for at least an entire day.

Tick.

Tick.

Crack.

BANG.

Its not use. No matter how far you ascend it always sounds like it's coming from above you. Yet when you look up you're only met with more stairs, fading away into unknown darkness. Your gaze falls downwards instead, into the void from which you came- the stairs you've already climbed. It would be so easy to give in.. to just go back down.

The darkness beckons you. It's warm arms wrap around your limbs, it's peaceful silence calling out to you. And you feel yourself stepping towards it. But then something catches your eye.

An elaborate ring on your left hand, glimmering in the darkness. Aquamarine, like a certain pair of eyes as familiar to you as the sky, a sight like an endless ocean, your favourite sight in the world. A smile. A voice.

"I love you"

His voice. It rings out across the empty space. You stop moving.

Satoru... You can't give up. Not when he's waiting for you.

Youre sprinting across the stairs now, faster and faster. Weightless with your new found determination. Theres no pain, no fear. You'll survive because you have to.

Finally there's a light, the tower opens at the top into a rotunda- nothing but an endless, cloudless sky stretching beyond. This must be it, the very core of your soul.

A hiss sounds behind you, and you whip around, already ready to attack.

You will survive.

Satoru gets back from a long day of trying to track down a special grade. So out of it that he doesn't even remember what country he's in.

Singapore? Sri Lanka? It was something with an "S" anyway.

He flops his full weight down onto the hotel bed, letting out a deep exhale. His limbs stretch out, and his heavy eyelids start to close, when he hears a buzz.

The man groans, long limbs turning lethargically. He reaches for his phone, cracking one eye open lazily to look. Who could be contacting him at this time anyway-

He almost drops the phone on his face.

23 missed calls from Shoko.

His tiredness evaporates, and he sits up instantly, fumbling with his phone to quickly call her back. As soon as Shoko picks up he starts talking.

"Shoko. Hi. What is it? Is everything alright? Is she okay-"

"Satoru." Shoko interrupts him. "She's awake."

I wasn't originally planning a part 2 to this, but I was so moved by the amount of people who enjoyed part 1 that I had a burst of inspiration to write this! So thank you all 🩵

Pt1 Pt 3

I might do a part 3 where they reunite finally. I just like cliffhanger endings and I didn't want this to get too long.

I had a skim through to check for spelling but as usual if anyone points out my mistakes I'll crash out. 🩵

🩵Thank you for reading 🩵

Dividers by @bunnysrph

🌟Tag list🌟 @seternic @hel1nn

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Older! Boyfriend Toji x Fem Reader pt. 2

MDNI! EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD

CW: weapon play

18+ Headcanons:

Older! Toji, who was definitely a fuck-friend, before he was a boyfriend. At first, it was a once a week occasion, almost like an appointment. Slowly it became twice a week, then four times a week, then almost every night. It became an addiction like no other. He began craving you whenever you weren't with him.

"You free tonight baby? Need to fuck you so bad... haven't seen you in three days, fuck."

Older! Toji who fell first... and swears it was some work of black magic.

"Don't know what you're doing to me, Mama." Toji groans fucking you from behind, watching as a ring of white cream forms at the base of his cock. His hips speed up by the second, realizing that he isn't just feeling lust.

"Tightest, prettiest little pussy I've ever fucked. Sweetest, prettiest girl I've ever met. Put a fucking spell on me."

Older! Toji who is not loud in bed. Sorry to my girls that love the moaners and the whimpering sluts 😔. You'll get groans, grunts, and tons of dirty talk but THAT'S IT.

When you're having make-up sex or when he's angry, he won't make a sound. Just heavy breathing and hard fucking. Kinda scary tbh.

Older! Toji who loves it fucking disgusting. Sloppy, wet, hot, you name it. His favorite thing is to lay down and watch you choke and slobber all over his dick. Chokes you just to have drool spill out of your mouth. Cums all over you, having his seed collect on your shaking body. He's absolutely dead set on making you squirt, training your body as regularly as possible.

Older! Toji who loves experimenting with his knives and handguns in the bedroom. Whether it be pressing his Glock 19 to your forehead while fucking you against the wall, or pressing a blade to your neck while marking you up, he loves the way the danger always makes your breath hitch. Don't worry though, he always takes the bullets out, always uses the dull side of the knife... he'd never be able to forgive himself if something actually happened to you. (When he has basic human empathy 😍🤤)

Older! Toji who first confessed after fucking you raw, going three rounds. He was struck with jealousy after you invited him out to a bar, instead of your apartment like you have been doing routinely for about 5 months. He was having a good time, joking with you, feeling his heart beat a little faster every time your face lit up and your laugh rang out.

Everything was just jolly until some fucking guy walked up to you, introducing himself as Satoru. He began practically begging to buy you a drink, claiming that he's only seen a beauty like yours in a dream about a wild forest goddess he had when he got high for the first time in 9th grade.

Toji rolled his eyes, scoffing at the man who was currently making a fool out of himself. You, on the other hand, found the man's antics amusing, giggling while you allowed him to carry on about his dream, detailing the way the goddess walked towards him, blessing him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he informed you that the scene was an exact replica of you walking into the bar.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Toji was less than pleased.

"Oh, C'mon Toji! It was funny. I mean, you really didn't get a kick out of him?" You pest as he walks in, taking off his size 13 boots.

"Tsk, no. He was a drunken idiot. Goddess my ass, he wouldn't know how to worship you."

That night, Toji fucked you sweeter than he ever did before. You expected to have your insides rearranged the second you walked through the door. Something was different. The air around you felt and smelled different as your breathless moans occupied the room. More tender, more purposeful, more...intimate. He worshipped you head to toe.

Once he pulled out, he uttered three sentences that changed your relationship forever...

"You're mine, I'm yours. I want you, I need you. I love you."

He reminds you of this moment from time to time, repeating the same three sentences. Not after you fuck, but after you make love.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[tricksh0t]

★ gladiator; the larger man

☾ daario naharis x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ daario is so hot istg i wonder how he's doing in meereen

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.17 words

cw: dom top male reader, sub bot daario, big size diff and size kink, fight scene w/ violence, blood, slight overstim, mention of slavery (it's game of thrones, it's vague and it's very slight), swearing

The smaller man, or the larger man?

Daario Naharis made his life in the arena, playing dirty as much as playing clean, kicking up sand as much as aiming his dagger correctly.

In his journey up to the position he holds now, he has slain hundreds of different types of men. From men just like him, nimble and infuriating, to men twice his weight, his favorite opponents: brutes.

Brutes are slow. They may be strong, but they don't get to use that strength if they miss. Brutes are bigger targets, even, and Daario himself is not one for missing.

When the time to throw away his endless fortune comes, he always bets for the smaller man.

Daario spies the five gladiators in front of him, making guesses to hand off to the man he secretly has bet for him. They each have their own strengths, their own unique weapons, and Daario considers them all, even though he prefers the sword himself.

The man's preference in weapons doesn't matter. If he is proficient, it will work.

What does matter, is the man's build.

His eyes zone in on a man on the smaller end, but not the smallest. He's using a spear. Good, he'll be able to keep his distance and use his size difference.

Once he makes his choice, and tells his "broker", he claps his hands and the match begins.

It's all out brawl, every man for himself. Alliances form when two men target the same opponent, but they quickly break as opportunities to nick at each other arrive.

There is no loyalty in the pit. There are only chances, reflexes and instinct; brutality, bloodshed and survival. Only one man would survive this round, and he would be granted word with the King. The gold he rakes in in bets won't even be his. It'll go to his patron, but if he is lucky, there will be lavish compensation. A whore for the night, perhaps.

Whatever it is that drives these men, whether it be the light at the end of the tunnel or the sand beneath their feet or the pleasure of taking another life, it makes for a grand show.

The man with the direflail falls first. He wasn't the biggest or smallest, just somewhere in the middle. Daario's favored spearman had taken advantage of a particularly heavy swing that has one of the balls falling to the floor to plunge his spear right into the other's heart.

Daario whistles his approval, and his glee only brightens as the spearman continues onto his next opponent.

This one wields a sword. He's the smaller of the two of them, both are still relatively smaller, leaving this isolated battle to be a long one. Each man will dodge the other's strike, or parry, or block, and so on.

At least, that's what Daario expects. The spearman kicks up sand with the butt of his spear, causing specks to fly into his opponent's eyes and blind him temporarily. In a last ditch attempt to defend himself, the swordsman flails his blade wildly, to no avail. The spearman knocks the weapon out of the other's hand with a harsh swing, then plunges his spear into his chest.

If he survives this, Daario's sure the man will earn the title of the Spearman who aims for the Heart, or something of the sort.

Now the smallest man on the field, the spearman locks eyes with the opponent farthest from him, a club-wielder, who is currently fighting the large brute Daario had immediately dismissed.

Their battle had been isolated for the majority of the show, yet nothing had come of it except a couple stinging, but non-fatal bludgeons. Nothing exciting.

That was about to change, however, as the smaller man and the club-wielder quickly form an alliance.

Taking advantage of the fact the larger man wasn't facing him, the smaller man charges forward, spear first, aiming to kill him from behind.

"Oh, son of a bitch!" Daario exclaims, clenching his fists.

The larger man quickly spins around, splintering the smaller man's spear in two with one swing, then decapitating him with another.

His final opponent tries to do the same as the now dead spearman, once again take advantage of the large man having his back turned and having to recover from a swift double swing, only to meet the very same end.

And that's game.

Seemingly unaffected by the blood sprayed over your armor and hair, you, the large man, take your stand in front of the King's seating.

As you approach him, Daario takes note of how ruggedly handsome you are up close. He takes your name first, then sizes you up. "You know, I usually bet for the smaller man."

"Sounds like you still did." The gladiator replies, referring to Daario's emotional groan that was a tad bit too loud to be fit for a king from earlier.

The corner of Daario's lips lifts up with a slight smirk, "Are you talking back to your King, ser?"

"Does the King think so?"

You amuse him.

First you were a surprise winner, then a comedian, unafraid of speaking to the King or referring to him without respect.

Daario's eyes trail over your figure again, taking in the delectable sight of you. There's something about the rugged way the blood splattered over you makes your hair stick to your skin and decorates the rest of your armor and muscles, as well as the defined way the rest of your body is covered in sweat, that makes him think you handsome in an animalistic manner.

He takes in your build, imagines himself next to you. You're likely almost double his size.

Blood flows through Daario's body, desire.

He gestures towards one of his men to come take his word. As he whispers his commands, he keeps his gaze set on you, and even down there, you can see the growing lust in his eyes. "Buy him from his owner, however much he costs. If he is not a slave, escort him to my throne room. Don't bother to clean him up beforehand."

If Daario said he wasn't expecting this, he'd be lying.

In fact, it could very well become a fact to flaunt. To have the up and coming champion of the pit in his bed is one thing to brag about. To have control over him, his strength and his beastly desires is another; but the latter is a work in progress.

That is so because at this very moment, Daario has absolutely no control.

He's hugging his knees up to his chest, not because he wants you to have better access to his hole, but because you force him so.

You're pressed up against him, sweaty chest heaving against his legs as you fuck him.

It's no love affair, but Daario tucks a lock of hair stuck together due to dried blood behind your ear. He's trying to keep his eyes open just to look at you, though it is a hard fight.

There's something about the way you—no, it is how animalistic you look, fucking up into him while your body is covered with fighting sweat as well as fucking sweat and the blood of your parted enemies. It is about how your body is only littered with practically cat scratches, a sign of how easy that battle was for you. It is about how large you are in comparison to him, how your hand can almost wrap around his thigh and most definitely can wrap around his throat.

And it is absolutely about how big your cock is.

You're churning up his insides with the pace you set, and the strength of it too. Makes him feel like he's on fire. The bed creaks with each movement like it threatens to break, and it is a royal bed, made unnecessarily out of the strongest woods.

Suddenly, you lift his leg and try to hook it behind his own shoulder. Daario moan-yelps at that. He grabs your shoulder and pushes you back weakly, only a couple centimeters.

"I'm not that flexible." He says, teeth gritted.

You grunt, but you're no brute that only communicates through grunts. "You should train."

Daario laughs. One, because it sounds like you're suggesting he do so for a later time, and two, because you make it sound so simple. "I'm not usually the one taking it."

"No? But you're such a small man."

He almost sounds delirious as he laughs again, breath leaving him shakily with relief as you put his leg down. "Yes, but–"

In another instant, you're behind him, almost disproving that the smaller man is the quicker one, but that is not what he dwells on. Instead, you're already lifting his knee up for him and entering him.

Daario moans, eyes snapping shut as you stretch him out all over again. "How the fuck are you so big?"

You're pressed up against him once more, but to a much more vulnerable part, his back. With each thrust, your pelvis meets his ass fully, no more need to prop his hips up with a pillow or sheer will.

"Is that your concern right now?"

"No," Daario's practically losing control of his body. The leg you're holding spasms, toes clenching and all, but you keep it right in place with your large hand. "Err, yes, because it's fucking good."

"Thought you meant my body." Your other arm sneaks below his neck, and Daario leans against it almost endearingly.

"I did, well, both." He's breathless. It's amusing.

From the door, to which your back's facing, nobody would be able to see Daario past the knee you're holding up in the air. It would be embarrassing, if anything recognizable about Daario could be seen past your figure, which is a no.

Your body completely engulfs any sight of him, any at all. That's how much bigger you are.

And Daario loves it.

Being the smaller man has always been about advantage, about being quicker, more nimble. Right now, the advantage is joyfully being at your mercy.

The blood is cold now, completely dry, but it's still rubbing off on his body, he's sure.

He opens his eyes, glancing down at his knee and your bloodied hand. When all's said and done, he's going to have bloody hand marks on his hips and his knees, marks of you.

His hand reaches out to intertwine with your free hand, just to prove how much bigger your hand is. It'll be clear to all that the hand marks on his body do not come from his hands.

Daario whimpers at the thought. Whimpers.

"Softening, my King?" In the voice of anyone else, Daario would feel smug at being called that. In yours, however, he knows it's teasing.

"Fuck off."

"Hold your leg up."

Despite his earlier words, Daario obeys quite easily, without a fight. He holds his leg up by the knee, how you did it, like you asked.

"Such an obedient king."

"Fuck."

Then your hand wraps around his dick and, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

He's whimpering again, only this time constantly. He's not got enough mind nor break to even think about being sheepish about it.

There's only your hand sliding up and down his dick and your cock fucking in and out of him with a fervor.

"I'm gonna–" Daario whimpers, mouth slamming shut as his hips chase release.

"Go on." You whisper into his ear. Oh, that voice of yours. Whispering now? He's more used to a voice such as yours shouting battle cries, not this calm, teasing, sultry, fucking arousing trifle that only makes the head of his dick weep.

"Seven hells!" Daario cries out as he finishes.

But you don't stop, not there. You're fucking a king, but you're still selfish.

Daario whimpers again, arm growing tired. You abandon his dick to hold his leg up by the knee, hand over his, holding it up and up and up. He cries out with pain as you push his flexibility, at the strength of your hold on his leg and his hand.

Your cock thoroughly abuses his hole, stretching it to its limit, the widest he's ever taken; the toughest, too, maybe. Hard and fast and relentless, even after he's already cum. Worse so, actually, as the overwhelming pleasure pricks tiny tears into the corners of his eyes.

You don't care for him.

Despite that, there's some kind of pleasure in it, in not being a king anymore, in being yours to use.

When you finish, you don't care for the fact it's inside of him.

Daario shudders as you finally let his leg fall. He thinks you're going to be impersonal, until your hand settles on his stomach and tugs his body impossibly closer.

"Was that good?" Comes your whisper into his ear, awfully caring.

He rolls his eyes. You must know it was good for him, after all the sounds you'd dragged up from his throat. "Fuck you."

You chuckle, thumb circling over his sternum, yet don't reply.

Daario sighs contently as he settles back, into you. He could get used to this. The idea of having you as a new permanent lover flashes in his mind. They never really last long, lovers.

Perhaps you will.

[anxious-lee]

The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known || Hazbin Tickle Fic ||

A/N: this entire fic was inspired by that one scene where Al threatens Husk in ep 5. it broke my heart to see him so utterly petrified so I wrote this as a hurt/comfort for myself

Warnings: mentions of Alastor's control over Husk, slight NSFW language but it's not actually sexual I just didn't have any synonyms for what I meant lol

Word count: 2,466

-----

When you're an Overlord of Hell, you tend to get pretty comfortable with staying in control.

Because one wrong move can mean the end of the line.

Husk knew that better than most.

And even now, after all that power of his was lost, he still found himself more suited to calling the shots in whatever situation he found himself in. It was just easier that way. If he could remain on top of things, then nothing would go wrong. Mostly.

That feeling of security never lasted long, though, because sooner or later, he was reminded of the terrible choice he made long ago. That he gave away his autonomy to the most psychotic demon in hell.

The way he spoke to him. Like he was so small. And insignificant. Like he existed purely for the bastard's own amusement and nothing else. Any input given was condescended to, patronized, and dehumanized. It formed an ugly little pit in Husk's chest. How little control he had once Alastor stepped into the room. It scared him, in a way that so few things did.

At least he had someone else to talk to who knew how he felt.

Speaking of whom, Angel Dust strutted into the bedroom, sporting a fluffy silk robe.

"Hope I didn't make you wait too long~" he whined seductively.

"Not long at all," the other purred.

The two settled down together in bed, soaking in each other's embrace.

Tonight was all about them, huddled together in hell's moonlight.

Husk remained still as Angel shifted downward until his head fit under Husk's chin, knowing just where to go.

He loved to be pampered, that much was obvious.

It was peaceful for some time before Angel's eyes suddenly blinked open.

"Hey. How come you never want a turn at being the little spoon? I'm not unreasonable, I'm sure we could share," he said coyly.

Husk didn't quite know what to say to that. It wasn't something that needed to be spoken in words. Husk dominated, Angel submitted (in more ways than one). It seemed almost absurd to suggest that Husk would be the one being given affection.

"Nah, I'm good. You look pretty comfy down there, anyway."

Angel, however, wasn't satisfied with that answer. He pulled himself back to get a good look at the cat's face, cocking his own head curiously. Who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end? Even once? It couldn't be understated how warm and protected one could feel in the arms of another. And Husk didn't want that? Did he feel pressured to say that because he knew Angel liked to take that spot?

"Really? You THAT much of a top that you can't play second fiddle once?" said Angel.

"I'm just not a big... "softy-cuddles" kinda guy, as if you already couldn't tell," Husk admitted, gesturing to his overall gruff demeanor.

Angel studied his face.

"Not buying that for a second," he said, punctuating each word with a poke to the chest. "Come on, you're missing out!"

"That's sweet, babe, but I'm-"

"Just five minutes?" Angel pleaded, holding five fingers up in front of him, "Five minutes of me cuddling you for a change. If you decide you hate it, I won't bring it up again. I just... you're always taking care o' me. I want to give some of that back to you, ya'know? You deserve it."

Fuck.

How was he supposed to say no to those puppy eyes?

Besides, it couldn't hurt... right?

"Fine," Husk relented.

"Yay!" His boyfriend cheered.

They rearranged their positions; Husk now farther down the length of the bed and Angel wrapping all three pairs of arms around him like a furry burrito. His knees and head also tucked themselves inward to cradle the cat properly.

It still made Husk a little tense, letting someone handle him so willfully, but the touch was too nice to deny for very long. Thoughts of safety oozed into his brain as his body relaxed against the chest behind him.

"See? Now isn't this nice?" said Angel softly, barely above a whisper, "For a man who supposedly doesn't little-spoon, you've got the moves down pat."

"I'm not making any moves," Husk mumbled, smiling loudly in his voice.

"Well, you're relaxed, aren't ya?"

In a way.

Angel peered down at the bundle of fuzz, taking in how much shorter he was in comparison.

"Awww! I never noticed how cute you were from up here." His hand began petting the top of the kitty's head, smoothing down the hair.

And there was that feeling again. The one that couldn't let Husk enjoy a good thing while he had it. The fear of releasing control.

"I'm not a pet," he grumbled, having no control over the defensiveness in his voice.

Angel, ever oblivious, pressed on. "Oh, but you are to me~. My sweet little Husky~."

Finally, the camel's back broke under that straw.

"Just stop, okay?! I don't-" Husk took a much-needed breath, sitting up, "I know being treated like a toy is your thing, but it's not mine. I don't like being talked to like I'm a pet. Like all I am is your little dancing monkey." It dawned on him just how much of all that was directed at Alastor. The words sunk in like cement in a lake, and he turned his eyes away, unable to look at what he just ruined.

Angel blinked. All of sudden, the moment had soured, and he had no clue why. Was it something he said? Husk said he didn't want to be treated like a toy. Is that how he felt? Like he wasn't valued? That wasn't what he was trying to say at all! It was adoration! Not condescension.

"What...?" Angel breathed.

"Forget it. Just, I'm sorry-"

"No! No, don't apologize," Angel interrupted, choosing his next words carefully, "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. It wasn't what I meant to say. I wasn't tryin' to say you were weak or small. I was... I was trying to tells you that I adore ya. You do so much for me and our friends. You look out for us, and protect us, and listen to our bullshit problems all the time.

"I think so highly of you, Husk. You don't take shit from no one, not even me. You're unafraid to speak your mind. You know how to keep your head when life gets messy. I got nothing but respect for you. That's why I wanted to do all this. That's why I want to pamper you with love and shit. Because you're always so strong, and I wanted to... I don't know... give you the space where you didn't have to be strong. Not with me."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Husk couldn't find the words even if he tried. He had never heard such meaningful things spoken about him. Him, the grouchy barfly. How could he possibly come back from such a beautiful declaration? Especially now with how foolish he felt. It had never occurred to him that accepting affection was an act of good, and not an admission of weakness. That someone could be trusted to hold him in their hands and lift him up rather than drag him down.

Angel could never be Alastor. This was not a hostage situation.

This was a security.

One that he felt that he needed in this moment more than ever.

"Fuck... I'm sorry. I messed up everything and spoiled the mood. I'm still not very good at this whole intimacy stuff," Husk sighed.

"I know, and it's okay. I can teach you," Angel cupped his hand around Husk's cheek.

Husk leaned into the touch. "And uh... thanks. For what you said."

"I meant it."

What did Husk do on Earth to deserve such an Angel?

"Look, if uh. Ahem. If you still wanted to... to do what you were doing before... you know, I won't fight you," Husk stammered, falling quieter with each word.

If that's the only means of permission that Angel can get right now, then he'll take it. He gently eased Husk onto his back once more.

"Good. 'Cause I still have lots more love to give you, sweetcheeks." Angel's iconic smile returned.

Even though Husk basically just admitted he wanted Angel to keep going, his praises were beginning to fluster him. The corners of his lips started to rise, and the only defense he had against them was to turn his face away from the man in front of him.

"You like it when I talk to you like that, huh, baby? Do you hear in my voice how much I'm crazy about you? How I'd do anything for ya? Cause I would~. There's nothing that you don't deserve," Angel said, scratching oh so lightly beneath Husk's chin.

Husk squeezed his eyes shut as he surrendered to his smile and tried to crush Angel's hand with his neck.

"It's true~. Because you're just the cutest little thing alive! Er, unalive, so to speak," the spider said, feeling encouraged by this reaction, and bringing another hand to scritch in the middle of his side.

Before he could stop it, a giggle escaped from Husk's mouth. Mortified, he then clamped his jaw shut, holding any more upcoming laughs in.

"You don't have to pretend for me, baby. It's just us here," said Angel, now bringing all three sets of arms into the mix. One pair was tracing his sides, another scritching either sides of his neck, and the last drumming their fingers torturously over his belly.

The giggles rose back up again, and this time shutting his mouth wasn't keeping them at bay. If he weren't so stubborn, he might've given in by now. But it was just too embarrassing.

Husk clapped his paws over his mouth, and while it did (partially) succeed in quieting his laughter, it didn't do anything to remedy the tickly sensations now all over his torso. He twitched and quivered under the touch, but with Angel hovering over him, it didn't leave much room for reprieve.

"This looks like it really tickles. I'm sure you'd feel better if you let all those laugh out!" Angel encouraged, "Pleeeeeease? For me? For yourself?"

Still, he didn't budge.

"Okay. I didn't wanna have to do this, but you've left me with no otha' options." Angel took one hand that was scratching his chin and took both of Husk's paws in it, holding them above the cat's head.

The effect was gradual.

At first, you couldn't hear a peep. Then, over a matter of seconds, Husk's giggles began to bubble up once more, fighting their way to the surface, and tickling him from the inside out.

It was over. Before long, there was nothing between the loving attacker and the melodic sound he adored so much. It started out deeper and huskier, much like his normal speaking voice, but with each passing moment, it grew higher in pitch; the kind of laugh he reserved only for his softer moments with Angel.

The spider took this as a sign to continue and deepened the pressure of all of his appendages, digging into the jittery muscles.

Husk couldn't even recognize himself anymore. He sounded nothing like the bitter old drunk he normally was. In its place, was a goofy little lovesick fool who laughed like no one in the world could hear him. He guffawed and chortled and cackled with reckless abandon.

"There it itihis! There's that gorgeous laughter!" Said Angel. "For a moment there, I thought you was bout to explode!"

The compliment somehow made everything worse. The helplessness of the situation was still there, the feeling of being small, but it was... different. Like he was small enough to be held in someone's palm and protected from all harm. It felt safe.

Husk's cheeks began to burn red.

Hopefully, Angel would be too distracted to notice.

"Aw baaabe! Are you blushin'?!"

Fuck.

As if on cue, his cheeks burned brighter.

"Am I making you feel flustered~? Does it make it tickle more?"

"WOHOHOULD YOU SHUHUT UHUHUP?!"

"So it does. Hmm," Angel hummed as he started moving his hands faster and faster up and down his body. Up his sides, then down his sides, up his tummy, then down his tummy.

It was maddening.

It was tortuous.

It was wonderful.

If Heaven didn't feel like this, he didn't want it. If salvation didn't give him the same amount of relief and safety and joy that playing with his lover gave, then it wasn't worth it. He'd stay in this inferno of hell forever if it meant he could stay with Angel. Stay in this moment.

The demon in question kept on with his teases.

"Who's the cutest little thing~?" Angel cooed as he noticed Husk jump when he touched the lowest portion of his belly, "Ohoho, looks like someone's ticklish! Coochie coochie coooo~!"

Just when Husk thought he couldn't laugh any harder, he did.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA YOU FUHUHUCKING PRIHIHICK HAHAHA!" Husk snorted.

"Oho my gosh! You sound just like Fat Nuggets!" Angel chortled.

Husk's laughter was beginning to go silent, and started getting wheezier. This, Angel knew, meant it was time to stop.

"Alright, doll, I think you've had enough," Angel said as he released his prisoner.

As the spider removed his hands from his body, Husk started panting and giggling hysterically, still feeling the phantom sensations on his skin.

"Need some help there?" Angel offered, moving his hands back towards the other's belly.

Husk curled away from his hands, "Dohohon't!"

"I'm not gonna tickle ya, I swear! I'm just gonna get the leftover tickles to go away. Okay?"

Husk nodded hesitantly and revealed his stomach to him.

Angel's hands met his fur, and although it did jump at first, the firm pressure and massaging motions rubbed away the remaining tickles, just like he said it would.

"Dahamn. That really works." Husk breathed.

"Right? Now do you feel better?"

"Yeah," Husk sat up as Angel gave him room, "You know, for such a compliant gentleman, you sure do know how to take charge."

Angel swiveled to Husk with his mouth agape. "I can be a boss when I wanna be!"

"Heh. Sure, power bottom."

Angel reached for Husk's right foot (or paw) and skittered one set of fingers over it.

"NonononONONOHOHO! I'M SORRY, I TAKE IT BACK! I tahahake it bahahack! Hehehehe!"

"Uh huh. That's what I thought," Angel stopped and huffed with a wink, nothing but kind love behind his eyes, "So. You ready for bed?"

"After all that laughing? Hell yes I am. I might even sleep through tomorrow." Husk said tiredly.

Angel chuckled, sidling up behind Husk and gently cacooning his arms around him again.

"This okay?"

Husk sighed.

"It's perfect."

-------

Wooh! That was a rollercoaster! 😅 Hope the people that wanted lee!husk enjoyed this fic 🫶

[maxislvt]

Sink Your Teeth In

pairing(s): vampire!natasha romanoff x werewolf!reader

summary: Vampires and werewolves were known enemies, but Natasha is more than willing to change that. Even if it's just for one night.

warning: amab!reader, blowjobs, sub!reader, slight dubcon

a/n: ummm nat gives the best head case closed

Event Masterlist

Werewolves and vampires were always at odds with each other. Not a thousand years could go by without vampires attacking werewolves or werewolves attacking vampires. It was all the same bloodline ending bullshit. 'Your father killed mine and now I must kill you!' over and over again. Some of those fathers weren't even worth killing anyone over. It was truly a shame that no one could see how compatible the two factions were. Vampires were strict, organized people that valued loyalty above all else. Werewolves were nothing short of loyal and obedient, you just had to train them. Natasha was so close to finding the perfect werewolf for her to prove that. 

Natasha had tried many times to tame a werewolf, but she'd run into a number of problems. They could be taught, but not many of them were willing to learn— especially not from a vampire. As disappointing as it was, it wasn't exactly a shock. A millennium long feuds were rarely ever one sided. Her previous attempts were also foiled by pride, shame, and simply being too boring to have any real fun.

So, Natasha spent another Friday night on the prowl.

Club Sonar was a rather interesting place. A tall building in the middle of nowhere buzzing with all forms of life. Monsters from all over the globe came together under the moon just to party. It was a messy place. The music was loud, bodies grinded against each other without a care, and secrets of all kinds were shared over the strongest alcohol. Though cultures mixed, money did not. 

Each floor of the bar was more expensive than the last. The alcohol got smoother, the music got slower, and the floors actually got cleaned. Upper floors were for people who supported the cause but had no interest in getting dirty. Natasha had more than enough money to sit at the top floor, but that wasn't any fun. She'd never find what she was looking for if she stayed up there. 

Werewolves were just as wealthy as vampires, but they were rowdy. They liked to play rough and get dirty. Big fancy houses just didn't appeal to them as much. Fancy clubs appealed to them even less. Natasha wasn't looking to tame someone — not to say her hand couldn't be forced — she was looking for someone soft and easy to mold. 

You weren't the easiest to find. Despite your size, the people on the dancefloor had no trouble pushing you around. You kept your head down no matter where you went. Natasha could tell you weren't there on your own, which made it harder to take you home. Not too hard though.

"This really isn't your scene," she said when she took the bar stool next to you. It was hard to keep her eyes in the right place. Your shyness was adorable, but there was no denying what she was really feeling. 

You looked around to make sure she was actually talking to you.  Though you weren't opposed to the conversation, it was hard to believe such a pretty woman had approached you. "Um, no. My friends wanted to come here. I mean it's cool just…couldn't we have a library or something? There's no point in intermingling if you're too drunk to remember what you're kissing."

Natasha laughed and scooted closer to you. "I guess you're right, but there's no shame in being curious. Right?" She looked at the glass in front of you. "Oh, that just won't do." Before you could interject, she tapped the countertop twice and brought over the bartender. It was a quick exchange, you didn't even see Natasha pull out any cash. Despite your confusion, you didn't put up a fight. You were exactly what Natasha was looking for. 

Guilt filled your eyes when you looked down at the fresh cocktail in front of you. Was it more rude to let it go to waste or ask the bartender for a refund? "Oh, you really didn't have to do that." Your hands hesitantly wrapped around the glass before taking a sip of the alcohol. The burn hit you immediately, but you tried to play it off. You tensed up to hold in the coughing fit building up in your chest. "It's…great, thanks," you forced out through a tight chest. 

Natasha gave you a firm pat on the back to force you to cough. She took away the glass and slid this towards you. "I would expect a werewolf to have a stronger alcohol tolerance," she said teasingly. Her hand stayed on your back even after your coughing had subsided. 

You shook your head. "A lot of us have sensitive pallets. I can taste whatever crappy oak barrel they made this in." There was an unexpected comfort in the way she touched you. "I should have asked this earlier, but what's your name?" You sat up straight as her hand moved down your back. You never really paid attention to your posture, but you had the strange urge to be better around her. 

"My name's Natasha, but you can call me Nat if you want. What's yours?"

"My name is Y/N. I don't really have a nickname, but whatever you come up with is fine." 

The conversation continued without trouble. Natasha seemed so enamored with how strong your pallet was. At the expense of Natasha's wallet and your sobriety, you had tasted just about every drink the bar had to offer. Eventually, you settled on just drinking strawberry daiquiris while you two talked. 

Natasha pulled your seat closer to her and she leaned down to whisper in your ear. "So how many more of those little smoothies do I have to buy to take you home with me?" Her hand slid up your thigh and gave it a firm squeeze. She could feel your dick twitching already. "I promise I'll only bite where it feels good."

You practically jumped out of your skin when Natasha kissed your neck. It was quick, but you could feel the pointed tips of her fangs brush against your skin. "Um..Can I finish this one first?" Before Natasha could say anything else you pulled out your phone and texted your friends. 'Leaving with a hot lady, ttyl!' was all you sent before cutting off your phone and downing the last of your drink. 

Natasha adored your enthusiasm. "I promise I'll get you home safe in the morning." She kissed your neck one last time before dragging you outside to her car. It was a good thing she brought her chauffeur along because there was no way she'd be able to keep her hands off you the entire ride home. 

You stumbled behind Natasha as best you could. Vampires were usually weaker than werewolves, but you were a little too tipsy to show your strength. You let Wanda push you into the backseat of her car. One sniff of the air and you could tell someone else was in the car. "You have a chauffeur?" Natasha covered your mouth and pushed you further into the backseat. 

"Home," was all she told the driver before closing the partition and focusing her attention on you. "Yes, but I promise the back of the car is soundproof." It certainly wasn't, but she needed to hear how whiny you could get. Natasha practically pounced on you after she closed the door. The kiss was hot and passionate. Your fangs bumped against hers every time your lips collided. "Can you taste what I drank earlier?" She asked with a giggle. 

A whine escaped your lips when Natasha pulled away. "Um…a lot of vodka and cooper..?" Your answer earned you another kiss. Natasha's lips felt like heaven against yours. She overwhelmed all your senses in the most delicious way possible. You didn't even notice how hard you'd gotten. "You smell…really good." You mumbled in the handful of seconds between kisses. 

She chuckled but didn't respond. You were too cute. "I'm going to make you feel so good tonight." Natasha's kisses moved down the side of your jaw until she reached the base of your neck. Her hands wasted no time undoing your belt and tossing it on the car's floor. One of her fingers circled around the tip of the tent in your pants while she watched you squirm. "You're so sensitive."

You opened your mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a string of cursing and desperate whimpering. "Sorry, I'm just new to all of this," you confessed. It was a little hard to imagine your first time going to a bar would take such a turn. 

"Don't tell me someone as cute as you is still a virgin." Your silence was enough. It was as arousing as it was disappointing. Natasha didn't want to go slow by any means, but the thought of getting to corrupt that innocent little mind of yours was exhilarating. "I promise I'll be extra gentle with your little friend." 

The car parked before Natasha could pull down your boxers. Natasha's lust-driven craze left you in quite an awkward position while waiting for her to unlock the door. Holding your pants up only made your bulge stand out more and there was an obscene amount of lipstick covering your neck. You hoped Natasha wasn't secretly vampire famous or else you'd be in real trouble. 

Natasha pulled you into her home and wasted no time undressing you. Your shoes, shorts, sweater, and T-shirt littered the soft carpet. Natasha had you completely naked by the time she pushed you onto the bed. "You're making a mess already," she whispered seductively as she crawled onto the bed. Her eyes focused on the way your member throbbed and leaked precum. 

Your eyes followed Natasha's as she began stroking your member. It was tortuously slow, but it felt good. A near-pornographic moan fell from your lips as your head tilted back. "Your hands are so soft," you whimpered pathetically. All your willpower went into staying still. You didn't know what to do with yourself. "C-can I touch you too?" You blindly reached out and grabbed the first thing you could feel. Mindlessly, you groped the soft flesh in hopes that it would make Natasha feel good too. Your face burned bright red as she moved your hand to where her breast actually was. “Sorry…I wasn’t looking,” you mumbled. 

Natasha kissed up the underside of your cock before licking all the way down to the base. “A good pup would pay attention to someone making them feel this good.” She waited until you looked down at her. Once she was sure you wouldn’t look away, she swallowed you down to the base. Her cheeks hallowed out as she began sucking you off.

Your hips twitched and your eyelids fluttered, but you tried your best to keep your eyes open. As your orgasm got closer, you found it harder to control yourself. An animalistic growl ripped through your throat as you tried to control yourself. Your fangs forced themselves out of your mouth and your claws had nearly ripped Natasha’s sheets. “W-wait, slow down,” were the only words you could get out before it happened. 

Hot white cum painted the inside of Natasha’s throat as she swallowed down everything you gave her. Natasha didn’t give you a break and continued until you pushed her away. “Is that all you have left?” She blew on your bulbous tip before giving it a kiss.

“N-no, I just…I need a second. That’s all.”

[anglercrit]

You know what's sad? Seeing these scrapped storyboards that are never able to make it to the actual show mostly turn out to be 10x better and made more sense (though sometimes it's a good thing others get scrapped as they can be a lot more triggering and won't have much of an impact).

However, with Helluva Boss, it doesn't make sense because they're supposed to be an indie series where a lot of artists have worked hard to create an impactful scene yet Viv fails to utilize these talents.

Another thing I wanna share is, while I don't remember the exact username as I was just quickly browsing through Tumblr, this post where they compared Andrealphus to that peacock villain, Lord Shen, from Kung Fu Panda 2.

As someone who has seen KFP 2, Shen is a lot more intimidating than this Elsa-lookin' bird. He may not be a fighter but he is pretty much clever and shoots metal feathers at anyone.

I agree- like. Jesus poor Salem. SO many of their storyboards were actually damn impressive, seeing everything be changed so drastically and have all the impact taken away just...hurts.

Also yea- I like peacock themed villains (I have a TWEWY oc who's noise form is a peacock lmao) but andrealphus is a very pathetic attempt at recreating the energy of Shen.

Yknow what- I'm turning this into a Salem appreciation post. I'm putting some of my favorite of their pre-viz boards on here- share some of your favs I didn't add and go follow them at either @/squiderdoodle here or @/phos4usm0th on Twitter.

[alwaysanundertone]

Hey!!! Could you possible do marauders with reader who has a really bad fear of spiders, like she cries when she sees them and can’t sleep or panics at the thought, and a scene where the boys help her <3

An unpleasant encounter | poly! marauders x fem! reader

tw: mention of arachnophobia, spiders

comfort

You were reading on Sirius's bed, the sound of the rain outside creating the perfect atmosphere for a good reading session. Your boyfriends were somewhere in Hogwarts, pranking the poor first years, and now their dorm was pleasingly quet.

Your feet were dangling off of your bed, your book held in the air.

You were relaxed, finally winding down after an exhausting day of classes, when all of a sudden you spotted a furry, black creature crawling on your ceiling.

Your limbs froze, immediately recognizing the small animal for what it was: a spider. It wasn't even that big, not bigger than a coin, but still your brain short circuited as you saw it moving awkwardly, his little legs moving faster and faster until it hung directly over your head.

You jumped up, falling miserably on the ground on your ankle, while you still kept your eyes focused on its every movement, not wanting to lose it and find it on your bed later.

Your breath quickened, small teardrops collecting in your eyes as you saw his legs moving rapidly; you felt the panic engulfing you, like being trapped in a heavy blanket in the middle of august. It was overwhelming.

That's how your boyfriends found you, sprawled on the ground, your hand pressing down on the sore area right above your feet.

It was Remus who talked first. "Darling, what are you doing?"

You didn't speak, only raising your hand to point at the scary, black monster.

Sirius chuckled. "Love, I think he should be fearing you, a grown woman, then the other way around."

As soon as he reached for it, you released a screech. "Stop it Sirius! It's going to fall right on top of me and bite me and I'll die! You won't have a girlfriend anymore!"

You saw your boyfriends exchange a look, then James reached for your hand.

"Do you trust us, love?"

You reluctantly nodded, gaining a proud smile from him. "Perfect. Would you like to try something? We will stop as soon as you feel too uncomfortable"

As much as you didn't want to admit it, leaving with arachnophobia wasn't easy. You couldn't bring yourself to enjoy little picnic dates because you were scared of seeing some stupid spider and ruining it. You always felt like you were overreacting, but you couldn't help it.

You cringed as Remus picked up the lid of a discarded clear jewelry box from your desk, standing on top of your bed and proceeding to trap the little creature inside of it. He turned around, giving you an easy smile. "Do you feel comfortable enough to come near, darling?"

Sirius extended his hand, as soon as you took it he tugged you into his arms, making you gasp. “Hey there, love” He grinned, pecking your lips, a small smile forming on your own lips.

He turned you around, making a small gasp fall from your lips. “Just look at it for now, okay? I’ll be right here with you.”

Remus held the box tightly secured in his hands, you looked at the spider. At first all you could do was cringe as you saw his hairy legs move frantically to escape, you saw it moving around the small box, looking for a place go escape, coming out empty handed.

The more you looked at it, though, the more your feelings changed. A sort of compassion crawled its way to your chest, making you feel kind of… bad. Yes, of course the creature still scared you; yes, you still wouldn’t want it to be ANYWHERE near you.

Still, you didn’t want it to die no more. You started to hate the box, to find Remus hands cruel.

“Remus, free it outside. Don’t kill it. Please?”

He smiled at you fondly, nodding and making his way to the window.

You felt Sirius mouth breathing right next to your ear. “I’m so proud of you”

—-

taglist: @eeviee4 @sammyreid @sxmnc

Hi gorgeous souls I’m back ;) did you miss me? It’s been a crazy month 😭

[thebunnednun]

Toast 3.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Prohero!Ex! Reader

Years after you walked out of his life, Katsuki can't stand how his mind won't let you go after all this time.

And after your most recent phone call,

He doesn't think he ever will.

You baddies with fatties know what time it is.

Part one right here.

Part 2 over yander

Inspired by the song: Darling, I

Additional song: Hurt

Warning: Heavy angst, post break ups, crying Katsuki, meeting ex's (you).

"You."

His voice was sharp, sharper than intended, but there was also a tremor in it that he couldn’t quite control. A piece of him wanted to move, to step back, to escape this strange pull.

Katsuki's feet were rooted to the spot.

You didn’t answer right away.

Instead, you stared up at him, her eyes scanning his face with an intensity that made him feel exposed, like you could see through the layers he kept carefully guarded.

It was you—holding Eri in your arms, the world seemingly standing still as the rest of Class 1-A filled the ramen shop with their usual energy. They were scattered around the tables, carefree laughter and banter echoing off the walls. 

The mood was light, filled with the comfort of being surrounded by friends who didn’t have to speak about the weight of the world to be understood. For a moment, everything felt like it could just go on forever, uncomplicated and easy.

Standing silently at the entrance behind you, was a presence that commanded attention without a word. 

Aizawa.

His figure was cloaked in black, just as sharp and disinterested as ever, though his appearance had changed—his hair was longer now, tied back in a low bun, the familiar stubble on his jaw now neatly groomed into something more respectable. His arms were crossed, leaning against the doorframe, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

You were right in front of him now, Eri in your arms—her dark maroon dress contrasting with the brightness of the ramen shop. She laughed, sweet and innocent, her joy radiating outward. And then, before anyone could blink, she threw herself into Katsuki’s arms with a burst of energy, the weight of her small form barely affecting him. He grunted as he caught her, a gruff smile breaking through his usual scowl as she snuggled into him.

It was then that everything seemed to shift. The room grew quieter, and every pair of eyes in the ramen shop turned toward you and Katsuki. He could feel the shift, the sudden focus of the room falling on him, but his eyes—his only focus—were on you. You.

You looked better than the last time he'd seen you on the news.

Better than the picture he'd imagined in his head. There were signs, faint but there—small remnants of the fight you’d endured. The smallest pink tint to your eyes, as if they carried the weight of things you couldn’t say. Bandages wrapped around your arms, the faintest hint of surgical tape holding part of your eyebrow in place, but even those marks didn’t matter to him. Not when he saw you.

It was you—the you, the one from before.

The one who had been a part of him once, so effortlessly entwined in his world that it felt like a distant memory now, a ghost of something beautiful he couldn’t quite let go. And even with the signs of the struggle you’d been through, you were still lovely—so lovely—like the day he met you and the day you walked away, and every single moment in between.

You were forever.

Katsuki’s chest tightened, his heart beating faster as you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. His breath hitched, and his mind—his thoughts—tangled in chaos. ‘Oh, fuck.’ He didn’t know if he could do this. 

Didn’t know if he could face this moment, standing in front of you after all this time. 

His stomach churned, his throat suddenly dry.

There were no words to fill the gap. Just the lingering gaze. The weight of the silence was almost too much. His heart was racing, the uncertainty of it all sinking in deeper with every passing second.

You were still the one he thought of when the world went quiet. But now… now, you were here, and everything he thought he knew was slowly shattering.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this. For you.

And yet… he couldn’t pull away.

Aizawa stepped forward silently, his sharp eyes softening just the slightest as Eri giggled in Katsuki’s arms. She hugged him tightly, her small arms wrapped around his neck as if she never wanted to let go. Katsuki, overwhelmed, held her close for a beat longer before Aizawa gently rested a hand on her back.

“Come on, Eri,” Aizawa murmured, his voice low and steady as always. “Let Bakugou breathe.”

Eri pulled back, her bright eyes shimmering with happiness. “Thank you, Kacchan,” she whispered before reaching out for Aizawa. Katsuki handed her over, his hands lingering in the air for a second longer than necessary as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. Aizawa gave a brief nod to Katsuki, then to you, before turning toward the others, Eri nestled against him.

You turned your attention to Izuku and Todoroki, a small nod of acknowledgment exchanged between you and the two behind Katsuki. Izuku looked as if he wanted to say something, his hands twitching at his sides, but he held back, his green eyes wide with surprise and maybe a bit of relief. Todoroki, ever composed, gave a small nod in return, though his gaze lingered, curious but respectful.

Then you shifted your focus back to Katsuki. Without a word, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand before intertwining with his.

It would have been better if you shot him. 

His entire body jolted at the contact. It was as if a firework had gone off inside him—a sharp, electric heat that started at the very tips of his fingers and shot up his arm, exploding into his chest and spreading through every inch of him. He felt like he was burning alive, and yet, it wasn’t painful. It was overwhelming, consuming, like the first crackle of an ignition that he couldn’t control.

You gave his hand a gentle tug, and he followed without thinking, his feet moving on instinct as you led him outside. 

The cold air hit him again, sharp and bracing, but it did nothing to quell the inferno raging inside him. His thoughts blurred into a mess of heat and longing, the contact of your hand against his sending his heart into overdrive.

He could barely think, barely breathe. All he knew was the warmth of your touch and the fact that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let go.

Not this time.

You led him just past the shop's entrance, the cold air still biting but not nearly as harsh as the electric charge pulsing between you both. It was quieter here, the sounds of laughter and clinking dishes from inside a muffled hum behind you. As you came to a stop, you glanced toward the shop window. Denki caught your eye from his seat, flashing a wide, toothy grin and waggling his fingers at you.

Your lips curved into a soft, genuine smile as you wiggled your fingers back at him. It was a small, playful gesture, but the warmth in it hit Katsuki like a punch to the gut. When Denki noticed who stood beside you, his grin faltered, and his face disappeared beneath the edge of the windowsill in a dramatic slump. You chuckled softly, turning back to Katsuki with that same light still dancing in your expression.

And then, it was just you two.

Katsuki became all too aware of the bag hanging awkwardly from his wrist and the bouquet clutched in his hand. He tightened his grip instinctively as if he could somehow shield the delicate flowers from your gaze. But you noticed them anyway, your eyes flicking to the bouquet for just a second before landing on him again.

“Hot date tonight?” you teased, your voice lilting with a playful edge, but there was something genuine in the smile that accompanied it. The way your eyes twinkled when you looked at him made his chest ache, and his stomach churn weakly.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat felt too tight, his voice lodged somewhere between his lungs and the storm brewing in his mind. He could only stand there, staring at you like some starstruck fool, taking you in as if seeing you for the first time all over again.

You were breathtaking. You always had been.

The funeral attire somehow only added to the ethereal quality about you, as though you’d stepped out of another world entirely. The tailored black coat hugged you snugly, cinched at the waist, and fell just past your knees, its hem swaying softly in the cold breeze. Underneath, a sleek black dress peeked out, its neckline modest but flattering, the fabric glimmering faintly with each subtle shift of your body.

And then there was you.

Your skin had a healthy, warm glow despite the faintest hints of exhaustion etched at the corners of your eyes, their pinkish hue betraying emotions you kept tightly tucked away. The surgical tape that stitched together a part of your eyebrow and the bandages peeking from the sleeves of your coat told their own stories, but they didn’t dull your beauty. If anything, they added to it—like cracks in a porcelain vase that somehow made it even more striking.

The curve of your lips, still soft and inviting, was framed by the sweet corners of your mouth. Your word could speak life or death into him, even 16 years later. Your braids that cascaded over your shoulders seemed heavy now. The wind teased them, strands of hair catching the light like threads of onyx. 

Your eyes—those bright, captivating eyes that could light up a room or pierce through steel—were locked on him, brimming with curiosity, warmth, and something that made his knees feel like jelly.

For a moment, Katsuki forgot how to breathe.

And then, like a cruel bolt of lightning, his mind betrayed him.

The weight in Katsuki’s chest finally broke loose as fresh tears welled in his eyes, unbidden and unstoppable. He lowered himself slightly, enough to meet you at eye level. The intensity in his gaze softened, and his voice, rough and strained, cracked just slightly as he spoke.

"I'm sorry about Rita," he said, his words deliberate but heavy, as though each one carried a piece of the sorrow he couldn’t contain. "I wish I could’ve helped."

Your eyes widened, the surprise stark in your expression. For a moment, you stood frozen, the bouquet trembling in your hands. Your lips parted, but no sound escaped. You swallowed, hard, once, and then again, your throat working against the sudden flood of emotion.

“Thank you,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling like the faintest echo of a storm. “She…she would tell you not to beat yourself up about it.”

Katsuki blinked, his mouth twitching as he tried to process your words. And then, to your visible shock, a single tear escaped the corner of his eye. You followed its trail, transfixed, as it carved a path down his cheek, catching briefly on the sharp line of his jaw before vanishing into the night.

Neither of you moved for a long moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. The world seemed to fade into the background—the muffled hum of the ramen shop, the distant sound of passing cars, the neon lights casting fractured colors onto the pavement.

Finally, you cleared your throat, the sound delicate but grounding. "You…you okay?"

“Yeah,” Katsuki muttered, his voice rough. “Are you?”

You tilted your head slightly, as if considering the question, and offered a weak but genuine smile. 

“Getting there,” you said, your tone faintly wry.

The conversation drifted after that, not about Rita but about small things—the kind of easy, gentle back-and-forth that came from a place of familiarity. Katsuki found himself listening more than talking, his sharp edges dulled by the warmth in your voice. He couldn’t help but notice, though, how your shoulders tensed every so often, the faintest shiver rippling through you.

Without a word, Katsuki motioned for you to follow him, his boots crunching softly against the gravel as he led you toward a familiar pickup truck parked a short distance away. You hesitated but followed, your brows furrowing in curiosity.

“This…is Kirishima’s truck,” you said, half-questioning as you stopped beside him.

Katsuki nodded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah. You think he’d let me hear the end of it if I didn’t take care of you? You’d break his damn heart if you didn’t feel comfortable using his stuff.”

His tone was mockingly sweet, exaggerated in a way that brought the faintest flicker of a smile to your lips. He leaned through the cracked window, reaching into the cab with practiced ease, and retrieved a familiar jacket—the black one with the orange lining he always wore on colder days.

Straightening, he held it out to you. For a moment, you hesitated, your eyes searching his face in the neon glow. Something in his expression—a quiet sincerity, almost tender in its simplicity—made the decision for you. 

Gently, you took the jacket, your fingers brushing his in the exchange.

“Thanks,” you said softly, slipping your arms through the sleeves. The warmth enveloped you almost immediately, carrying with it the faint, comforting scent of smoke and caramel that was so distinctly Katsuki.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the side of the shop where you’d been before.

You fell into step beside him, the two of you walking back in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt like a moment suspended in time, fragile but somehow right. Katsuki couldn’t help but glance at you as you walked, the way the neon lights danced across your face, highlighting the curves and planes he’d memorized long ago. 

You looked so different from the last time he’d seen you, yet so achingly familiar, and for a second, it was almost too much.

But he kept walking, matching his pace with yours, the weight of his earlier thoughts lightened just a little by your presence.

"Why the flowers and the card?"

The question escaped your lips softly, curious but tinged with something else.

Katsuki’s gaze darted to the ground for a split second, and then he looked at you again, his eyes uncharacteristically earnest. 

"Because I saw them and thought of you," he said, his tone quieter than usual but unwavering.

Your eyebrows raised in a sharp arc, and the corners of your mouth tugged up faintly, though the expression didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Ouch," you muttered, letting your face relax as you absentmindedly reached up to rub at the spot where surgical tape stretched across your eyebrow.

Katsuki’s entire body tensed. Instinct roared through him, bypassing thought, and his hand shot up halfway to yours before he froze. The hesitation was uncharacteristic, almost foreign, and it hung in the air like an unresolved chord.

You caught the motion, your gaze snapping to his. For a brief moment, you both stared, an unreadable mix of emotions flickering across your face. Then, as if the tension was too much to bear, you let out a breathy laugh and muttered under it, 

"I’m not the one who bites."

It was the breaking point. 

Katsuki’s knees gave out in the most spectacularly graceless way possible. His legs simply folded, and his body jolted downward like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Shit!" he hissed as his back collided with a parking meter, the hollow clang echoing in the otherwise quiet street.

Your surprised yelp followed almost immediately, and before you could think, you lunged forward to steady him. The momentum carried you straight into his chest, and he instinctively grabbed your waist to keep you both from collapsing entirely.

The collision was messy and awkward, but what followed was neither. 

For a moment, you were pressed so close that the world around you faded. 

Your heartbeats synced, thrumming against each other like an unspoken melody, the warmth of his body seeping through the layers of fabric between you. His scent—smoke, burnt caramel, and something indefinably Katsuki—engulfed you, and your own familiar fragrance, that lotion he used to tease you about, rose faintly to meet him.

Katsuki couldn’t breathe. His ears went beet red, the flush spreading up his neck like wildfire. You, for your part, were entirely still, your face mere inches from his as your wide eyes blinked up at him in stunned silence.

The flowers, nearly squished between your bodies, crumpled slightly against his chest. You made a small noise of protest, your first attempt to pull back thwarted by the press of his hands still firm on your waist.

"Katsuki…," you started, but your voice faltered as you glanced down at the proximity.

Something in him snapped. 

He was done, absolutely done with this entire embarrassing spiral of events. With a huff of determination, he bent his knees slightly, shifted his grip, and scooped you up in one clean motion.

"What the hell—" you exclaimed, but the rest of your sentence got lost somewhere between shock and disbelief as Katsuki turned on his heel and strode across the street like a man on a mission.

You blinked down at him, torn between indignation and incredulous laughter. "Put me down, Katsuki!"

"Not a chance," he grumbled, his voice laced with something both exasperated and resolute.

He crossed the street to a small, shared sitting area just outside a convenience store and another restaurant. The space was warm and inviting, illuminated by the soft glow of several open fireplaces scattered among the tables. The smell of charred wood and faint spices lingered in the crisp night air.

A waiter lingering by the outdoor seating area blinked in confusion as Katsuki approached. Without so much as a word, Katsuki shoved a crumpled wad of yen into the waiter’s hand—far more than the situation warranted—and jerked his chin toward the farthest corner of the space.

"Beat it," he ordered, his voice sharp but not unkind.

The waiter, visibly rattled, hesitated for a moment before turning his gaze to you, clearly wondering if he needed to intervene.

You poked your head out from where it had been resting against Katsuki’s chest and offered the waiter a sheepish but reassuring smile. "It’s fine," you said, your voice steady despite your awkward position. "I’m a consenting party in this whole…thing."

The poor man nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced but not willing to argue. "I’ll, uh, bring you menus in a bit," he murmured before hurrying off toward the restaurant.

Katsuki didn’t stop until he reached a quiet corner, where the heat from one of the nearby fireplaces cast a gentle glow over the stone-tiled ground. He set you down on one of the cushioned benches, shrugging off the weight of the entire situation with a small huff.

The warmth from the fire flickered across both of your faces, chasing away the lingering chill of the night. 

You glanced around the now-vacant area, noting the unexpected privacy, and raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Subtle," you teased, though the faint curl of a smile on your lips softened the jab.

Katsuki shrugged, leaning back slightly with his hands stuffed into his pockets. His eyes found yours, steady and burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "Subtle’s overrated," he said simply.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head, leaning into the heat of the fire. The silence that fell between you was far from uncomfortable. Instead, it felt almost sacred, like a fragile bubble that neither of you wanted to pop.

And for the first time in years, Katsuki felt the weight on his chest ease, just a little.

You nudge the seat in front of you but Katsuki doesn’t budge. 

He hesitated, glancing between the bench and you, but something in your expression left no room for argument. He grumbled under his breath, lowering himself onto the cushioned seat with a sharp exhale. Quickly, you shoved the flowers into his hands and used your nails to slice open the envelope. 

The flames from the nearby fire pit cast a golden hue over his face, softening the hard lines of his features.

You straightened the edges of the card in your hands, fingers brushing over the raised lettering on the front. It was plain but tasteful, and as you opened it, Katsuki’s scrawled handwriting sprawled unevenly across the inside. The strokes were rushed, almost frantic, like he’d barely had time to think before putting pen to paper.

He watched you as you read, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths. But beneath the practiced control, you could sense the tension radiating off him. 

He looked like a high schooler waiting for his crush to read his love letter, except you knew—you knew—that wasn’t what he had written about. 

And yet, as you scanned the words, the crease between your brows deepened.

Your eyes flicked over the lines again. Then again. Katsuki’s leg started bouncing, and his hand gripped the armrest tightly enough to make his knuckles whiten.

“Well?” he finally snapped, his voice rough, though you caught the faintest edge of nervousness underneath.

“I don’t get it,” you said bluntly, lowering the card slightly but keeping your gaze fixed on the uneven handwriting. 

“This isn’t like you, Katsuki.”

His jaw tightened. 

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You didn’t answer immediately, rereading a particular passage. “…Maybe letting go is a beautiful thing. Perfect for the time being…” you murmured, your voice soft and filled with confusion. 

“What is this?”

“What does it sound like?” he said gruffly, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. The firelight glinted off his sharp crimson eyes, making them look even more intense. “It’s…fuck, it’s about life.”

“About life?” You met his gaze fully now, your lips parted slightly. “Katsuki, this…” You held up the card. 

“This sounds like you’re talking about how we moved on. How we’ve…achieved everything we dreamed of.”

“Yeah, and?” His voice cracked slightly, and he covered it with a cough. 

“Ain’t that true?”

You pause, your fingers tightening on the edges of the card. 

“Is it?”

His leg stopped bouncing. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The distant hum of the city filled the silence, broken only by the occasional pop of the firewood.

“I drive my Bimmer in the summer,” you began slowly, rereading another line, “Forever is too long. Katsuki, what are you…what are you trying to say here?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, letting out a frustrated groan. “It’s not…fuck, it’s not about that shit literally, alright?” He leaned back, running both hands through his hair and making it stick up even more than usual. 

“It’s about…about how nothing’s ever enough.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice softened, and your gaze searched his face for answers. “What isn’t enough?”

His laugh was bitter, short, and humorless. “Everything. The cars, the rank, the money, the…the goddamn awards” He waved a hand vaguely, his frustration tangible. 

“None of it fucking matters if I…if I can’t…”

“If you can't, what?” you pressed gently, leaning forward.

His lips parted, but no words came out. 

He looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, he seemed like he was about to say something monumental. 

But then his gaze flicked to the hem of your dress, and he saw another, singed and blackened in places, and his expression shifted to something else entirely.

“Were you okay?” he asked abruptly, his voice low and gruff.

You blinked, startled by the sudden change. “What?”

“Your dress,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the edges. “It got burned.”

“Oh.” You glanced down at the ruined fabric, brushing it lightly with your fingers. “Yeah, I was fine. It’s nothing.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat, something that sounded suspiciously like doubt. 

“’s not nothing,” he muttered.

You sighed, tilting your head slightly. “Were you okay? You know…after I threw you off the balcony?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a brief, wry smile. “’Course I’m okay. Didn’t even scratch me.” He paused, his gaze dropping. 

“But…I should’ve called.”

Your heart stuttered, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. You stared at him, your fingers tightening on the card again. Finally, you let out a shaky laugh. “Forget about it. I did. Mostly.” You bit the inside of your cheek and glanced down, your voice dropping. 

“Though there are a few pictures I wish I’d taken with me.”

He straightened slightly, his brows furrowing. “I could bring ‘em to you.”

You almost dropped the card. Your fingers fumbled, and the paper fluttered dangerously before you caught it. 

“What?”

Katsuki frowned, his head tilting slightly. “What?”

“You kept them?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes searched his face for any sign of dishonesty. “I thought you…I thought you would’ve burned them all.”

The shock on his face was immediate, his eyes widening as if you’d just accused him of treason. “What?” he repeated, his voice louder now. “Hell no! I…I couldn’t have done that.” He hesitated, his hands clenching into fists before relaxing. 

“Okay, maybe I could’ve…but not…not of you.” His voice dropped, rough and raw. 

“Not of you.”

The words hung between you like a fragile thread, trembling but unbroken. The fire crackled softly, casting dancing shadows across your faces as you stared at each other in silence. His confession lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, and you found yourself unable to look away from him.

For once, Katsuki didn’t look like the indomitable hero or the brash, fiery man you had known for so long. 

He looked vulnerable, human, and heartbreakingly sincere. 

And as the flames reflected in his crimson eyes, you felt a pang deep in your chest—an ache that you weren’t sure you could ignore any longer.

But neither of you spoke.

The silence was too precious, too fragile to break. 

So you sat there, bathed in the warm glow of the fire, each of you quietly trying to piece together the fragments of what had once been.

Katsuki placed the bouquet gently on the table, the vibrant colors of the flowers catching the flickering glow of the firelight. His hands rose shakily to his head, fingers threading through his blond hair as he gripped at the roots, tugging slightly as if he could wring the words out of his mind. His elbows rested on the table, and for a moment, he stayed like that—shoulders hunched, eyes squeezed shut, and his breath uneven.

You sat across from him, your hands folded in your lap, trying to steel yourself for whatever storm of words was about to come. You could see the faint tremor in his fingers and the deep lines of stress carved into his face. 

Then, finally, he exhaled deeply and lifted his head, his crimson eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

“I... I heard this song,” he began, his voice hoarse. “It’s been trending lately, y’know? And maybe that’s why I wrote all that shit in the card. It just... it hit something in me. Something I’ve been too much of a coward to face for years.”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head as if mocking himself. “I know I’m being selfish right now. I know you’re dealing with your grief, and you don’t need me dragging up all this crap from the past, but—” 

He stopped, swallowing hard as his Adam’s apple bobbed. 

“But I can’t live with myself if I don’t get this off my chest.”

Katsuki leaned forward suddenly, reaching out to take both of your hands in his. His grip was firm yet trembling, his palms warm against yours. His eyes, now glossy with tears, locked onto yours, and the weight of his emotions slammed into you like a tidal wave. Your own tears began to blur your vision, and you cursed yourself for being unable to hold them back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. The silence that followed felt deafening, the words hanging heavy in the air between you.

Your face was unreadable, frozen in a mixture of shock and vulnerability. He pressed forward, his thumbs brushing over the backs of your hands as he continued. 

“I’m sorry for everything. For acting like a fucking idiot back then. For how things ended. For the media shitstorm. For the way I left things hanging in the air... for never reaching out.” 

His voice grew quieter with each apology, the regret in his tone cutting deeper each time.

“I’m sorry for the way it affected everyone—our friends, our lives. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed someone. And I’m so goddamn sorry I let all this time pass.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice breaking as he forced himself to go on. 

“Your grandma... she passed away, and I wasn’t there. I couldn’t... I couldn’t shield you from that pain or comfort you when you needed it most. And maybe you didn’t want me there. Maybe you didn’t need me. But...” He looked down at your joined hands, his tears slipping free and landing silently on your knuckles. 

“I wanted to be there. I wanted to offer it anyway.”

His head hung for a moment as if the weight of his emotions had become too much to bear. When he looked back up, his face was raw and unguarded, the barriers he’d so carefully built over the years crumbling to dust.

“I know the saying,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “‘A day late and a dollar short.’ Well, I’m sixteen years too fucking late. But... from the bottom of my heart and the depths of my soul,” 

“I’m sorry.”

Your lip trembled as his words sank in, every syllable hitting you like a blow. He squeezed your hands gently, the desperation in his touch almost unbearable.

“And I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he added, his voice firmer now, though still laced with anguish. 

“I know it’s selfish of me to even bring this up, but... I wish I’d handled things better. I wish there wasn’t this giant wall between us, this mountain of distance that just keeps growing. I don’t even know what else to say or do...”

Katsuki’s voice trailed off, and he stared into your eyes, unflinching despite the tears rolling down his cheeks. 

His vulnerability, his raw honesty, was overwhelming, and you could feel your own tears spilling over, streaming silently down your face.

Neither of you moved, and neither of you broke the gaze. 

In the glow of the firelight, your shared silence spoke louder than words. The years of pain, regret, and longing that had built up between you seemed to swirl in the air, heavy yet strangely cathartic. You could feel his pulse through your hands, steady yet erratic, matching the rhythm of your own racing heart.

And in that moment, as the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, you realized how profoundly you had both been carrying the weight of the past.

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words pressing against you like a tangible force. It wasn’t just the apology—though the power of it was undeniable—but the sheer enormity of emotions it dragged up from inside you, emotions you thought you’d buried long ago. They rose like a tide, unbidden and relentless, threatening to pull you under.

Your eyes darted down to your joined hands, his fingers warm and trembling against yours. 

It felt surreal. 

This moment felt surreal. The space between you was thick with an odd mix of tension and... something else. Maybe it was the weight of the situation. Maybe it was the tragedy of it all, the reminder of what had been lost—not just Rita, but the years, the connection, the bond you once shared.

In another life, in a world untouched by this grief, maybe you could have blown him off. You could have let him sit there with his bag of feelings, with the apology that came far too late. 

You’d have every right to. 

After all, you hadn’t asked for this. You hadn’t asked for the years of silence, the emotional chaos, or the devastation of a friendship that was supposed to be built on something pure and simple—your heart, freely offered, no strings attached.

But here you were, and despite the storm of anger, pain, and regret churning inside you, there was something else. Something lighter.

Strange, unfamiliar.

Maybe it was happiness. Not the kind that bursts forth in bright, fleeting bursts, but the quiet, steady sort that comes from acknowledgment.

Katsuki Bakugou—proud, brash, unrelenting Katsuki Bakugou—was sitting before you, raw and broken, admitting out loud that he had messed up. That he was sorry. And he wasn’t asking for anything. 

Not forgiveness. 

Not a second chance. 

Nothing. 

Just... acknowledgment in return.

And maybe that’s what made this moment so heavy.

Because last night, when you’d torn apart your house in a frantic, grief-stricken search for Rita’s will, you’d reached the end of your rope. The thought of calling him, of hearing his voice, had nearly shattered you. You’d stood there, clutching your phone, staring at the blank screen with trembling hands.

But then you dialed. 

Without thinking, without hesitating, your fingers moved on instinct.

You knew that number by heart, even after all these years. The call had gone through, and his voice on the other end—rough, surprised, and slightly panicked—had hit you like a freight train.

Now, here he was, sitting across from you, holding your hands like they were a lifeline. And you couldn’t shake the feeling of dissonance. 

Because this man before you? 

He wasn’t your Katsuki.

Your Katsuki was somewhere in the past, frozen in the amber of your memories. 

He was the brash boy from high school, the fiery upstart at the beginning of his career. He was the one who used to shield your name like it was sacred, who would all but attack anyone who dared utter it in his presence. You used to watch him on the news, almost marveling at how far he would go to avoid even the shadow of you.

This man, though—this Katsuki—was different. 

He was older, quieter, and somehow softer, even in his roughness. He was still selfish—he’d admitted as much—but there was a depth to it, a maturity, that hadn’t been there before.

And maybe, just maybe, you needed to hear this. Not for him, but for yourself. To let go of the past you’d avoided so much, to release the grip of the “what could have been” that had quietly haunted you since things fell apart.

The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the tears that glistened on his cheeks. His grip on your hands tightened ever so slightly, grounding you in the present. And though your mind was racing, spiraling into memories and emotions, you realized something with startling clarity. 

This moment, this apology, was as much for you as it was for him. 

A chance to unburden yourself of the pain, to finally put it to rest.

You exhaled shakily, your voice a whisper as you finally spoke.

“Katsuki…”

"She asked about you," you said, your voice trembling as you squeezed his hands. Your eyes dropped to your lap, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Katsuki stiffened slightly, a flicker of something unnamable crossing his face. He knew who you meant.

“Rita,” he whispered, barely audible.

You nodded. "She asked if I’d spoken to you. If you’d finally broken and reached out to me."

Your voice cracked, and Katsuki saw it all then—everything you had kept buried for years. The hurt. The pain of loving the woman who had raised you. The unbearable weight of loss that now hung between you, heavy and suffocating. It was all there, laid bare in your expression.

And then, the dam broke.

You cried. Openly and freely, the tears spilling down your cheeks in hot, stinging streams. Your shoulders trembled with the force of it, and your breath came in ragged, uneven gasps.

Katsuki’s soul tightened. 

The sight of you like this—it was too much. 

He couldn’t just sit there, couldn’t let you drown in the grief that he’d avoided for so long. Without a word, he moved. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he slid closer, his hands releasing yours only so he could wrap his arms around you.

Before you even registered it, you were pulled into the warmth of his chest.

Katsuki's arms encircled you tightly, holding you like you might shatter into pieces if he let go. One hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading smoothing down your hair, while the other arm wrapped around your wait and pressed firmly against your back, keeping you anchored to him.

He began rocking you, slowly and gently, back and forth. The motion was soothing, rhythmic. 

Familiar. 

It took you back to the times he’d done the same—after you’d failed a test in school and were convinced you’d never make it, or in the sterile, suffocating room of a hospital after the Hero War when everything felt impossibly bleak.

Katsuki’s voice broke through your sobs, hoarse and choked with emotion. “You’re safe,” he repeated, over and over, like a mantra.

And then, you heard it—his own crying. 

Quiet at first, just shaky breaths and the occasional sniff, but it grew louder as the weight of the moment pressed down on him. His shoulders shook as his tears spilled freely, dampening your hair and his cheeks alike. His grip on you tightened, like he was afraid you might vanish if he let go.

“It shouldn’t have taken this,” he managed through the tears. His voice was raw, every word thick with regret. “It shouldn’t have taken her... for us to talk again. For me to—” He broke off, his chest heaving with another sob.

You buried your face into his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. You felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, strong and erratic all at once. It was grounding in a way nothing else could be.

“I miss her,” you choked out, the words barely audible through the sobs.

“I know,” Katsuki whispered, his voice breaking. “I know. She—” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. “She was amazing. She’s at peace now.”

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, crying openly and freely for what felt like an eternity. In that moment, it didn’t matter how much time had passed, or how much pain had been inflicted, or how selfish it might seem.

What mattered was that, for the first time in years, you weren’t alone in your grief. 

And neither was he.

You stayed like that, holding onto each other as if letting go would mean losing everything all over again. You didn’t know how much time passed. The world outside seemed to fade into irrelevance, the soft murmur of distant traffic and the bite of winter’s cold only faint reminders that life still moved on beyond your bubble of shared grief.

The streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a golden glow over the sidewalk where you sat, but you didn’t want to move.

You didn’t want to leave the warmth of Katsuki’s embrace—the man you had loved so deeply, so fiercely, that even now, after everything, the embers of that love still burned quietly in the darkest part of your soul. 

And so, you cried again. 

Not for your grandmother this time, but for the friendship you had lost. For the relationship that had crumbled under the weight of pride and immaturity. 

For the future you had once dreamed of together but had been shattered into irreparable pieces.

Katsuki cried too, the sound raw and unfiltered, like an ocean tide crashing against jagged rocks. 

The weight of his emotions poured out in waves, and you felt like you could drown in the sorrow that filled the space between you. The salty taste of tears clung to your lips, and the cold air stung your damp cheeks.

As you sniffled, you realized with a groan that you’d left your purse back at the ramen shop—the very one that held your tissues. Before you could even voice your dilemma, the door to the restaurant creaked open, and the waiter appeared with not one but two boxes of kleenex.

Katsuki took them with a slight bow of his head, muttering a gruff, “Thanks.” The waiter nodded in silent understanding before slipping back inside, leaving you both with a bit more humanity to cling to.

You grabbed a handful of tissues, blowing your nose loudly and shamelessly. Katsuki wrinkled his nose and pulled back slightly.

“Ew,” he teased, his voice raspy from crying but still laced with playful sarcasm.

You shot him a watery glare. “I’ll wipe it on you,” you threatened, waving the crumpled tissue in his direction.

His lips twitched upward, and he leaned forward. “I’d like to see you try.”

Before you could retaliate, Katsuki snatched a fresh wad of tissues and reached out. His movements were unexpectedly gentle as he dabbed at your tear-streaked face, his fingertips brushing against your skin with surprising care. You stayed still, letting him clean you up, and in that small act of tenderness, something inside you softened.

“You’ve got snot,” he muttered, though there was no bite to his words, only a quiet affection that made your heart ache.

“Don’t push your luck,” you shot back, though the corners of your lips twitched upward for the first time that night.

As the tissues piled up in the small trash can by your side, you found yourself talking. 

Tentative at first, but then with more ease. Katsuki mentioned how he’d been dragged to more gatherings with friends lately, awkward at first but tolerable now. 

You told him about your grandmother’s favorite songs, how the old records still played flawlessly despite their age. He mentioned the get togethers, and you nodded, suggesting he should join in more often—not just as a favor to the others, but because it seemed like he was starting to open up again.

The conversation shifted to the pictures. “I could come by to pick them up,” you offered, though the idea of stepping into his world again made your chest tighten. 

“Or… I could have them delivered if it’s easier.” Katsuki shook his head. “I want you to choose what’s comfortable. No pressure, alright?”

You hesitated, chewing your lip as you weighed your words.

“Honestly? I need some time to… get myself together. This is a lot for both of us.” You glanced down at the tissue box, your fingers toying with the cardboard edge.

“But maybe we could start slow. Like meeting at a park or something? Neutral ground.”

He nodded, his crimson eyes steady on yours. “Yeah. That sounds fair.”

There was a beat of silence, and then his gaze shifted, his hands tightening slightly where they rested on his knees. “It might take a bit, not all the pictures are at my place.”

You frowned, tilting your head. 

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his throat working as he swallowed. The streetlamp above cast long shadows across his face, accentuating the strain in his features.

“Most of the stuff... it’s still at the old apartment.”

Your breath caught. The tissues you had been about to use slipped from your fingers and fell to the ground, forgotten.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs as memories of that place rushed to the surface—the laughter, the arguments, the quiet moments that had once felt like forever.

You looked up at him, and your vision blurred with fresh tears. Katsuki’s jaw clenched, his eyes shimmering as he watched you, waiting for the inevitable.

And then, like a breaking wave, the tears came again.

You sobbed, raw and unrestrained, as the reality of everything hit you all over again. Katsuki reached for you instinctively, pulling you close, and you buried your face in his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, and this time, neither of you tried to stop the flood.

The world around you faded once more, leaving only the two of you—two broken people trying to find pieces of themselves in the other. 

Eventually, the Kleenex dwindled to nothing, leaving both of you with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked faces. You tilted back the water bottle, gulping down what remained, and washed down an aspirin with the last drops. Katsuki pushed himself up and offered his hand. 

“C’mon,” he said, voice low but steady. “Let’s hit the store. We’ll grab more for you... and me, too.”

You let him help you to your feet, your hand lingering in his a moment longer than necessary. The chill of winter nipped at your exposed skin as you walked side by side to the convenience store. The silence between you wasn’t awkward or heavy anymore—it was soft and comfortable, filled with the quiet sounds of the city around you. Distant traffic hummed, the occasional bark of a dog, and the rustling of leaves in the wind accompanied your steps.

Inside the store, the bright fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead. The cashier from earlier—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes—gave you a warm smile. “Back so soon?” she teased gently as you approached the counter with Katsuki trailing behind you.

You returned her smile, feeling a little lighter. “Yeah. Ran out of tissues already,” you said with a sheepish laugh.

‘Oh, so you bought tissue’s here earlier,’ he thought to himself.

The two of you exchanged pleasant small talk while Katsuki moved with purpose, gathering tissues, a fresh bottle of water, and whatever else he thought you might need. By the time he joined you at the counter, you’d already struck up an easy rhythm with the cashier, your conversation flowing naturally.

Katsuki set the items on the counter and pulled out his wallet without hesitation. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he muttered, shooting you a sidelong glance when you opened your mouth to protest.

You sighed, knowing better than to argue. This was just who he was. Whether it was an old habit or a remnant of something deeper, Katsuki never let you pay for anything when he was around.

The cashier rang everything up, and as she handed over the bag, the jingle of the entrance bell drew all your attention. You turned to see Izuku, Todoroki, and Kirishima stepping inside, their familiar faces a mix of concern and quiet resolve.

Katsuki stiffened beside you, his focus shifting instantly. But instead of looking at the guys, his eyes stayed on you.

He studied your face—your tired eyes, the faint lines of grief etched into your expression—and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, his lips parting slightly as if caught in a memory.

'You’re so beautiful.'

Izuku was the first to speak, his voice soft and tentative. “We heard… we just wanted to check on you.”

You offered them a small smile, though it trembled at the edges. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Kirishima, ever the empathetic one, didn’t hesitate to close the distance. His arms wrapped around you in a crushing hug that left you breathless but oddly comforted. Izuku quickly joined, his slightly shorter frame squeezing in from the side, and you felt the warmth of their presence like a balm to your aching soul.

Todoroki hung back slightly, his expression carefully composed. When the others released you, he stepped forward and placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, the gesture understated but no less sincere.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said quietly.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can we do anything?” Izuku asked, his green eyes wide with concern.

You hesitated, glancing at Katsuki out of instinct. He was silent, his gaze unreadable, but the weight of his presence steadied you. “I think… I think I’d like a few more get-togethers with everyone,” you said finally, your words measured.

Kirishima grinned, his usual enthusiasm shining through. “We can make that happen! Right, man?”

Izuku nodded eagerly, already starting to brainstorm ideas with Kirishima. Their voices grew more animated as they bounced ideas back and forth, each suggestion more extravagant than the last.

While the two of them planned, Katsuki and Todoroki stood silently to the side. The tension between them wasn’t hostile, it was more like an unspoken understanding, a quiet conversation held without words. Katsuki’s arms were crossed, his eyes narrowing slightly as Todoroki gave him a faint nod, his hand still resting at his side.

You glanced between them, wondering what silent truths they were exchanging, but before you could question it, Kirishima’s booming voice brought your attention back.

“How about a dinner at the plaza? We can rent it out!”

Izuku clapped his hands together. “That’s perfect! We can make it cozy and informal.”

You nodded, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “That sounds nice.”

Katsuki finally broke his silence with a sharp scoff, though the edge of it softened, lacking his usual bite. 

“Idiots,” he muttered, shaking his head as if to distance himself from the animated planning happening behind him.

But there was no venom in his tone—just the faintest trace of amusement buried beneath his gruff exterior. He grabbed the bag from the counter, thrusting it toward you with a slightly awkward motion. 

“Let’s get going,” he said, voice quiet but firm, as if to end the moment before it could grow into something too tender.

You took the bag, your fingers brushing his briefly. “Thanks,” you murmured, offering him a small, tired smile. It wasn’t much, but it was genuine. As you stepped out into the cold night, the air sharp with the crispness of winter, your breath formed tiny clouds in front of you. Katsuki fell into step beside you, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his movements stiff but unhurried.

Katsuki felt a faint flicker of warmth in his chest. Maybe things weren’t completely broken after all.

You’re not friends nor enemies. 

Just strangers with old memories

The sidewalk glowed under the mixture of neon lights from the ramen shop across the street and the warmer, golden hues of the convenience store sign and street lamps. The faint hum of electricity overhead filled the quiet spaces between your steps. You glanced upward, your gaze caught by the clear night sky. 

The stars, scattered and faint, seemed brighter in the winter air.

“They so look different here,” you murmured, almost to yourself. Your head tilted upward, and the soft curve of your profile caught the light, making you look both fragile and unyielding all at once.

Katsuki followed your gaze, his eyes tracing the dark expanse above. The memory hit him like a freight train—the time he took you hiking, how you’d screamed and scared the shit outta him when he unveiled the telescope he’d carried for miles just to surprise you.

He hadn’t forgotten a single detail: The awe in your voice when you saw Saturn’s rings, The way your breath caught when you pointed out constellations he could never remember.

But Katsuki would for you. 

He stole a glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his jaw tightening. You were looking at him, too—quick, fleeting looks that you thought he wouldn’t notice. But he did, and he could tell by the subtle shifts in your expression that you were lost in memories of your own.

You remembered that hike, how he’d guided you up rocky trails with steady hands. You remembered falling asleep on the couch at his parents’ house after coming back worn out, their home so warm and welcoming. 

That Christmas where your Grandma and his Parents decided to blend traditions, just for the two of you. You’d fallen asleep on the floor in front of the tree together that night, and waking up next to him had felt as natural as breathing. And, of course, you couldn’t forget sneaking a kiss under the mistletoe in the UA dorms, his cheeks turning scarlet as he tried to hide his grin.

The weight of those memories pressed down on you both, heavy and bittersweet. You glanced at Katsuki again, and for a fleeting moment, his guarded expression seemed to crack, revealing the exhaustion beneath. 

What had all of this been for? 

Why had you let pain and misunderstandings tear apart something so bright? 

You thought you had an idea, but the truth was too tangled, too layered to fully unravel in a single moment.

“MOM!”

The quiet shattered like glass, the single word slicing through the cold night air.

Every head turned in a different direction, a ripple of alarm spreading through the small group. You were the first to react, your body snapping forward, hunching as if bracing yourself for impact. Katsuki’s sharp eyes locked dead ahead, narrowing with the kind of intensity that made everything else fade to static.

“MOM!”

There it was again. The voice, high-pitched and frantic, pierced the night with urgency. Before anyone else could react, you surged ahead a step, your voice raw and unrestrained as you yelled, 

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

Katsuki froze, his chest tight and unmoving, as if his lungs had forgotten how to draw in air. The world felt too quiet for a second—just long enough to make his skin crawl.

And then he saw her.

Standing right in front of the ramen shop, where the doors had spilled open and your shared friends and classmates were trickling out, was a girl. She couldn’t have been older than 15 or 16. The crisp lines of a UA uniform clung to her small frame, its navy and white colors almost blending into the night. 

In one hand, she clutched a bag of snacks; in the other, a bouquet of flowers that swayed slightly with her every movement.

She was waving, her free hand moving wildly in your direction. Katsuki could barely make her out through the blur of passing cars, headlights painting streaks of yellow and white across the road. 

You were on your tiptoes, hopping slightly to get a better look, a desperation in your movements that tugged at something deep and primal in his chest.

The brat from earlier. 

Todoroki opened his mouth to ask a question, but before the words could leave his lips, the girl moved.

She darted into the street.

The bag and bouquet swung in wild arcs as she sprinted forward, weaving through the maze of cars and trucks. Horns blared, tires screeched, and the headlights seemed to blur into chaos around her.

Your scream tore through the night, so raw and visceral that it carved a jagged wound into the silence. It wasn’t just fear—it was pure, unadulterated terror, and it clawed its way into the hearts of everyone who heard it.

Katsuki flinched, his instincts roaring to life as your scream rattled his very bones. The name you screamed was swallowed by the cacophony of honking horns and screeching tires, but it didn’t matter—he couldn’t let himself freeze. 

Not now.

You were already running.

Without hesitation, you bolted forward, surging into the chaos of headlights and metal.

Katsuki didn’t think—he moved.

His body acted on reflex, launching after you with a speed and force that left the others behind. He barely registered the shouts of protest from Izuku, Kirishima, and Todoroki—

All he could focus on was you.

You, sprinting into the heart of danger, arms outstretched.

The girl was closer now, her face pale and wide-eyed as she froze in the middle of the street, caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. The horn blared, a deafening roar of impending disaster.

Katsuki’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you reach her just in time. The impact was jarring—your body collided with hers, your arms wrapping around her to shield her from the inevitable. 

The truck swerved, tires screeching, but it wasn’t fast enough.

Katsuki reached you both in a split second, his hands grabbing at your arm and the girl’s jacket in one fluid motion.

The force of his grip yanked you back, your combined momentum dragging you all toward the relative safety of the crosswalk. He didn’t stop until you were firmly on the sidewalk, his chest heaving, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the world.

This was it.

Katsuki was finally going to have a heart attack.

The girl clung to you, her smaller frame shaking like a leaf in a storm. Your arms stayed locked around her, your face buried in her hair as you whispered something Katsuki couldn’t hear. His sharp gaze scanned you both, his hands still gripping you tightly as if letting go might send you hurtling back into danger.

The others caught up seconds later, their voices a blur of questions and concern, but Katsuki didn’t look at them. His eyes stayed on you, on the way your body trembled, the way your shoulders heaved with ragged breaths.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he barked, his voice rough and trembling with the weight of too many emotions. But there was no anger—only fear, only relief, and something he couldn’t quite name.

You didn’t respond immediately, your focus entirely on the girl in your arms. Slowly, you pulled back, brushing her hair from her face. “Are you okay?” you asked her, your voice soft and cracking.

The girl nodded, her face buried against your shoulder.

Katsuki looked away briefly, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady himself. He could still hear the echo of your scream in his head, could still feel the phantom pull of your arm as he’d dragged you out of the street.

You turned your gaze to him, and for a moment, everything else faded—the noise, the lights, the others. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice full of something he didn’t have the words to name.

Katsuki didn’t reply. 

He didn’t need to. 

The look he gave you said everything.

The girl was giggling, her whole frame trembling with barely-contained mirth. The sound was light and melodic, like a wind chime caught in a playful breeze, but Katsuki’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t sure what he expected—fear, maybe? Tears? Sure. 

Not this bubbling, carefree laughter.

Her face, bright and fresh, carried the same mischievous glint you had when you were busted by your Grandma or Aizawa. Katsuki knew that expression all too well—the barely contained smugness of someone who knew they were in trouble but didn’t care enough to stop. 

Katsuki couldn’t stop staring. 

You glanced down at the girl as her giggles finally started to subside, and her mischievous grin turned into something softer as she looked up at you. You ruffled her braids gently, your fingers lingering on the dip-dyed tips. 

The two of you looked almost like twins under the glow of the streetlights—same face, same posture, even the same teasing glint in your expressions. 

But then there were the eyes. 

Yours held warmth and wisdom, tempered by years of struggles and triumphs. Hers burned like twin embers under the golden street lights, sharp and unrelenting, filled with the boundless energy of youth.

The resemblance between you two was uncanny. It wasn’t just the shared features; it was the way you both carried yourselves, that same blend of confidence and playfulness. The way her grin mirrored yours, the slight tilt of her head, even the way she gestured with her hands—it was like watching a younger version of you.

It wasn’t just Katsuki who noticed. 

Kirishima, normally composed, was now openly gawking. 

His gaze darted between the girl and you, his eyes wide with disbelief. Slowly, he leaned in closer, shamelessly studying her face, then yours, before stumbling backward with all the grace of a falling tree.

“Whoa, wait—uh, hold up—!” Kirishima stammered, tripping over his own feet and landing with a loud thud on the pavement.

“Careful!” Izuku hurried to help him up, his hands fluttering around like he wasn’t sure where to grab.

You didn’t look fazed. If anything, you looked exasperated, your brow furrowing as you squished the girl’s cheeks together with both hands. 

“I told you to stop doing that,” you said, your voice dripping with mock scolding.

The girl’s laughter only grew louder, muffled by your hands pressing into her cheeks. Her red eyes sparkled with amusement as she struggled to hold up the bouquet of flowers she carried. 

“But it’s funny!” she managed to mumble through puffed lips.

Katsuki stood frozen, his brain short-circuiting as he stared. 

His eyes flicked between you and the girl, searching for the logical explanation he knew wouldn’t come. The sight of her presenting the flowers with a beaming grin while you calmly handed him his flowers back like it was nothing—it was too much. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, threatening to boil over.

Todoroki, for his part, was eerily silent, his eyes wide and fixed on the girl. His hand moved up slightly, as if to point, before it fell back to his side. Izuku, on the other hand, looked like he was trying to process several layers of information all at once.

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Flowers, huh?” you murmured, turning your attention back to the bouquet. Katsuki watched as your fingers ran along the petals, inspecting them with the same care he’d seen you use a hundred times before. Only now, there was an almost maternal softness to it, like you were reading the story written in every delicate fold.

The girl stood taller under your scrutiny, her grin unwavering despite your gentle rebuke. “I picked them out  myself!” she said proudly, her voice lilting with excitement.

You glanced over her head to toe, your hands moving with practiced ease. Your fingers trailed over the ends of her dip-dyed braids, and Katsuki’s breath hitched. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now it was impossible to miss—

The matching dip-dyed ends of your braids.

“Wash day is gonna be fun,” you said, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

The girl whined, tilting her head back dramatically. “It’s sooo booooorinnnng,” she groaned, drawing out the words like a petulant child. Katsuki watched as you gave the girl a light pinch and she squealed before standing up straight.

You chuckled, shaking your head before pulling her into a warm hug. “You’re not off the hook,” you murmured against her hair, your voice affectionate but firm.

The girl pouted but clung to you anyway, wrapping her arms tightly around your neck. Katsuki couldn’t look away. There, in the bright glow of the streetlights and neon signs, he burned the image into his memory.

The way you smiled, the girl’s arms around you, the quiet joy in your expression.

As you helped her stand up fully from the pavement, brushing dirt off her skirt, you looked down at her with a mock sternness. “We’re talking about this later.”

The girl just giggled again, sticking her tongue out playfully. “Fine, fine,” she said before glancing around at the group of stunned heroes. 

“Hi, everyone!”

Kirishima, finally back on his feet thanks to Izuku, blinked owlishly before managing a weak wave. “Uh… hey?”

Todoroki tilted his head slightly. “Is she…?”

“Yeah,” 

Katsuki cut in, his voice strained. 

“She is.”

“What’s your name?” Izuku asked softly, his wide green eyes flickering between you and the girl. You looked at the girl, who gave you a big grin and nodded.

“This is Asuna Hikari,” you said simply, your voice carrying a quiet weight. 

“My daughter.”

And just like that, Katsuki felt the ground shift beneath him.

I swear I can't just write a simple one shot.

How we feeling chat?

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See you soon my loves!!

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[yazthebookish]

Why an Elucien rejected bond storyline would be boring

Years ago Sarah briefly discussed Elain and Lucien's mating bond, she changed her plans from having Nesta as Lucien's mate to Elain since she saw there is a great deal of tension, growth and healing to be found for both of them (together).

In my opinion, we are currently seeing them go through the tension stage where there is this distance and strain on both of them due to recent events. Lucien was sexually assaulted by Ianthe and he is settled in the human lands to support Vassa and Jurian. While Elain has to mourn her human life and also the rejection of Graysen (who used the bond against her) + she also grieved her father. It's pretty reasonable for her to feel that resentment and hostility towards the existence of her mating bond with Lucien.

Part 1: As of ACOSF, does Lucien want Elain or did he move on to Vassa?

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian's heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

I won't make this part long because it's right there in the text. His longing. He still longs for Elain. He still tries. If he is so occupied and in love with Vassa, what is he doing spending Winter Solstice at Velaris to give his mate a gift instead of the woman he apparently "loves".

"But he lives with Vassa!"

The concept of friends sharing a house does not necessarily mean they're all hooking up, unless Lucien's comment on Vassa and Jurian liking to be at each other's throats is to be taken literal (and he's the third wheel in that scenario). I firmly believe Vassa and Jurian would end up together.

It's clear Lucien has eyes for one female only and that's his mate.

Part 2: Lucien doesn't want the bond and he can't stand it

And that's when arguments are formed based on out of context quotes, because context always matters to get the full picture.

But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda. Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’d been born into. She had teased him, taunted him—seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn’t wanted anything but her. She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him.

Is it not valid for him to feel conflicted about this entire situation because he is still processing the fact that the female who he fell in love with, who had chosen him, saw him, and accepted all of him, who was beheaded because she loved him, is not his mate? but this stranger is? He is trying to make sense of it. He doesn't know Elain yet.

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.

His feelings and thoughts and instincts are all clashing at once. That is much evident in this entire scene.

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes. I can't stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back."

This is often taken out of context to point out that Lucien doesn't want the mating bond or he can't stand to be around Elain. As a mated male, it's overwhelming for him to be around her because his instincts clash and he has to keep himself grounded around her. He doesn't know yet how to approach her or what she expects of him. It's extremely awkward and he can't stand it because he still didn't find a common ground with her.

Using this quote to imply he doesn't like her or stand her is absolutely false within the narrative.

I think so. It wasn't just about what he thought—it was the ... feeling. I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And ... sorrow. Longing.

Part 3: Lucien is responsible for her trauma

Hard disagree on this one.

Even canon points out that the one who told the King of Hybern about Feyre's sisters was none other than Ianthe. This is not to defend Tamlin because he gave her an opening to do whatever she liked and did not hold her accountable in ACOWAR.

Now about Lucien, what power did he have over Tamlin's decisions when we have seen that despite being his friend, there is a power imbalance and Tamlin does lash out at Lucien. Lucien is not a character without flaws, but neither Feyre nor Nesta ever blamed Lucien. Even when Elain says to his face that he betrayed them, Lucien immediately says it was a mistake. He doesn't try to absolve his role in it or explain his actions to her, he calls it as it is.

I disagree with the statement that he is responsible for her trauma, Lucien was nothing but a spectator.

"But, but, he yelled at her and announced that they were mates!"

Cassian again stirred—trying to rise, to answer Nesta’s voice as she held my sister and cried her name again and again. But Elain was staring over Nesta’s shoulder. At Lucien—whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one eye of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain— Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”

Right. He yelled at her.

Great reading comprehension.

And it's like we forgot when Rhys said the moment the bond snapped between him and Feyre, if he stayed a second longer he would've damned the consequences and took her with him. As soon as he winnowed back to Velaris the first word he said to Mor after 50 years was "she's my mate".

"Well he shouldn't have said it anyways"

Yeah because it's not like Lucien is a Fae male and the mating bond is something that alters the Fae on a biological level. It overrides their instincts.

Part 4: Elain choosing the mating bond + Lucien will be a disservice to her arc, it won't be a choice unless she chooses Azriel

“but it definitely offers a wealth of things to explore with this concept of freewill and what is true love. Is it something that’s destined? Or is it something that you make? Is it both?”

I like that Sarah briefly discussed the topic of a character's agency when it comes to mating bonds because it's something that has long been discussed in the fandom.

However, I disagree that if Elain chose Lucien it's not truly a "choice" because of the mating bond. We have seen with both Feyre and Nesta that they didn't choose to be with Rhys and Cassian simply because of the bond, the mating bond was just the cherry on top—they loved their mates for who they were.

"Elain's entire journey will be about choice"

Isn't she already making a choice? Isnt she choosing not to pursue the bond? Isnt she choosing to ignore the bond? Isn't she choosing to not reject it? Isn't she choosing how she is living her life in Velaris? Isn't she choosing how she spends her time? Isnt she choosing to garden and help other gardens in Velaris? And I can go on.

Neither Elain or Lucien had a choice in being mated to each other, but the notion that the mating bond left her with no agency over her life is partially incorrect because she is making choices. Yes, the mating does in a way take some of Elain's agency and Lucien's agency since it's something that alters them on a soul-level, but Lucien's agency is often removed from this conversation.

Currently, the ball is in Elain's court and not Lucien's. She currently has the choice of accepting or rejecting the bond.

And in my opinion, "choice" is a theme that is incorporated in the journeys of all the characters, it's not exclusive to Elain. I don't think "choice" is the core of her story because I think Elain's journey should focus on breaking out of the docile and gentle sister mold (not that she stops being gentle, but stopping others from infantilizing her), finding where she truly belongs, realizing who her true found family are, discovering the world (a trip to the continent let's go!).

Part 5: Azriel (warning: controversial)

This will be a bit of a hot topic but I'll do my best to keep it short (it really isn't).

This kind of follows Part 4, but I will tell you why Azriel isn't a "great" choice for Elain.

Yes, they had a sweet companionship and a friendship and that is usually a good foundation for a relationship, but to me there wasn't anything solid or deeper then that. We have to *assume* they had moments off-page, but we also know that they're not spending time together and Azriel confirmed this. So am I going to wait for chapters of flashbacks after flashbacks to see that build up from the past?

Before anyone jumps the gun, I am a hardcore Gwynriel and a hardcore Azriel fan and I fully understand and accept that Azriel is a flawed character who carries so much self-loath. I dont like him with Elain because I believe it's an unhealthy dynamic compared to how lighter and more open he is around Gwyn and this is not something against Elain, it's more tied to how Azriel perceives the logic of 3 sisters + 3 brothers. Dynamics matter and makes a difference between couples because e.g., Chaol and Yrene worked better than Chaol and Celaena. Mismatched pairings exist but it doesn't mean the characters involved wouldn't work out with others.

So how is the male that centered himself in his entire conversation with Rhys instead of prioritizing what Elain wants, is the ultimate choice?

He argued that the Cauldron was wrong because he didn't get the "third" sister while his brothers got her other sisters, and at this point we know Elain is not interested in a mating bond. If she is attracted to Azriel, it has nothing to do with wanting a bond with him because we know how she feels about it but it's Azriel who wants to center the mating bond in it.

So does that mean the relationship from Azriel's perspective wouldn't be complete without a mating bond? Then why is he arguing about this? Wouldn't it be more romantic for him to say I don't care if she is mated or not, I want her for her—but that's not the case here.

Notice that it's Azriel having these discussions about mating bonds and not Lucien who is her mate. and I promise you if it was Lucine having this exact discussion with Rhys, the entire fandom would drag him to no end.

Back to Azriel, so he also says that he hadn't gotten that far with his planning certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to + and said Lucien is not good enough for her and she has not interest in him anyways. Again, he is speaking for Elain when we know one of the big problems surrounding Elain is how others speak for her and assume what she needs. If she doesn't want the mating bond, that's her speech and not Azriel's. I still don't get how people were fine with him speaking for her and I'm not even the biggest Elain fan.

Last but not least, he also was against her scrying despite publicly declaring that no one decides what she can or cannot do and wants to help. Is this truly the "ultimate choice" for Elain? But Lucien's only crime is being mated to her?

Part 6: finally, why Elain and Lucien rejecting the mating bond would be bad storytelling.

So we know that a bond can be rejected, only weakened but it will always exist.

"Elain would have our full protection if she rejects the bond. But it will still be a bond, however weakened, that will trail her for the rest of her existence."

"But he'd know if Nesta were dead. In his heart, his soul, he'd sense it. Would feel it. A mate always did. Even if she'd rejected that bond."

1. There isn't enough time to explore a rejection:

It seems there isn't a ritual or a tradition we are told of about a mating bond rejection, if the female doesn't want it then that's that but it does have a worse impact on males.

As of ACOSF, it's evident Lucien still longs for Elain even if they are distant or occasionally see each other. We know Elain resents the bond but we still don't have her POV to really know what she thinks of Lucien.

What do we get out of a rejected bond with Elain and Lucien? That she just doesn't want him and can say "no"? That she finally has a choice? Even though she is making choices as of the current canon to not explore the mating bond or do anything? I gave examples in Part 4.

And then what? Lucien moved on to Vassa or another female in the next book? That despite a rejection being devastating he's all cool and moved on within months.

No stakes. No challenges. No reprecussions. No consequences. Nothing interesting.

"But it's proof that not every mated pairing works" that would be interesting if we had enough time to discover that but not with two characters that barely spoke to each other and readers have no clue to what kind of dynamic they have.

A rejected mating bond would not be a good story to tell because there wasn't much there to begin with. It's underwhelming.

"I don't want it" "okay cool see you around" < and that's it? Groundbreaking.

"It's a big factor to play into a forbidden romance because Rhys is the obstacle here" easily resolved with one word from Elain and Rhys is removed.

I think Elain and Lucien's mating bond would still be interesting to read about because we never had a mated pairing that knew they were mates but weren't in love yet.

It's giving an arranged marriage trope and the best part about arranged marriage is when the spouses get to know to each other better, they fall harder—I think the tension between Eain and Lucien would be quite delicious and fun to read about as they tip toe around each other and the mating bond.

2. Parallel journeys:

I like what Mor said in ACOFAS and it makes complete sense since it reaffirms that both Elain and Lucien are going on parallel journeys:

Mor drank deeply from her glass. "Stay out of She's not ready, and neither is he, no matter how many presents he brings."

I lifted a brow. "Snoop."

Mor leaned back against the steps, utterly un-repentant. "Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her."

3. Promised HEAs:

SJM already stated that each book going forward will follow different pairings and by the end of their book they'll get their HEA. That's the standard traditional romance formula.

A mate rejection, especially in standalone books, are miserable. Not enough time is given to navigate through it or move on and it also sets an unrealistic and cheap outcome that the other mate could easily move on from the soul-level rejection. No, that doesn't entitle a mate to force their other mate to accept the bond because it would affect them personally, it's just something I think that needs more than a book to discover through the POVs of the characters involved.

This is why a mate rejection is a very rare and an unpopular trope in fiction. There was a temporary mate rejection in the Zodiac Academy series that scarred the ZA fandom because it's depressing.

You have Fated Mates authors like Kresley Cole who published around 21 books with each book including the Fate Mate trope. That's one of ACOTAR's trademark.

Till this day, every SJM character that found out about the mating bond ended up with their mate one way or another. It's an SJM trademark at this point.

4. Then which rejected bond would Sarah explore?

In my opinion, the true rejected bond story that would be extremely emotional, tragic and powerful is the story of Helion and Lady of Autumn.

What they had is the definition of a forbidden romance. Lady of Autumn was married to a High Lord from her Court and Helion wasn't even a High Lord of the Day Court then.

The stakes are extremely high they could've triggered a war between Day Court and Autumn Court. Even though a mating bond triumphs marriage, Lady of Autumn still has children with Beron. She chose her children over her mate in the end. She had to reject the bond because everything stood against them.

While this is currently theoretical but it's strongly pointed at in canon that they're mates.

This makes for a better story of a Rejected Mating Bond because enough time passed to see what were the repercussions, the consequences of their actions and how they both suffered. Do they find their way back to each other in the end or does one of them for whatever reason loses their life? Did Helion have to seek other people to distract him from not being with his mate and her not choosing him? Did their bond weaken?

Conclusion:

I didn't expect this to be long but I hope you enjoyed reading this "essay". The rejected mates storyline is controversial and so many readers feel strongly about it. Everything here reflects my own thoughts and why I think a Rejected Mating bond wouldn't be an interesting one to discover with Elain and Lucien.

I deserve another cup of coffee and on my way to get me one haha. I apologize for any typos in advance.

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

in stars and time but ghibli movies au braindump

nobody fucking asked for this but it's been plaguing me for weeks and i need other people to think about this with me

IDEA 1: Howl's Moving Castle x ISAT

I mean, come on.

Isa is Sophie. Listen. A hat shop? the themes around changing and transformation? learning to love someone who believes they don't deserve to be loved? Seriously. its perfect.

Sif is Howl. Self explainatory, but I'll talk a little more about it later.

Loop is Calcifer. Also self explainatory. If you know then you know.

Bonnie is Markl. I need more Siffirin as a mentor figure for Bonnie.

Odile is the Witch of the Wastes. Definitely not the same characterization as in the movie though. Don't think too hard about it I just didn't want to make her Turnip Head or something. Plus I think it's a funny idea that Odile does all that shit to Siffrin bc she suspects he did some forbidden magic shit. Basically Witch Hat Atelier.

Mirabelle is Sophie's sister from the verrrry beginning of the movie. she can be more included in the plot because I fucking said so. Maybe she would meet up with Isa when they settle back into the original town?

The King is Madame Sullivan. I have not been able to get the scene where she says "let's show your mother what you really are" out of my head beacuse. it's so so so much like what siffirn fears. also turning her followers into weird blob monsters? its sadnesses for real it works too well

Siffrin as Howl has been knocking around in my head for a while. A few things to note:

The hair dye scene. Siffrin's hair starts out black, and then turns white after. Initially it seems like it's a vanity thing, but their reaction is more because they're afraid of being seen as different.

Howl is a big crow thing. Odile has a cut line where she calls siffrin "little crow". do i really have to explain.

The "dream" sequence where sophie goes to find howl after he comes home injured. "Tell me what's wrong so I can help you!" "You're too late!" like. FUCK. it's them. it's them it's them it's them...

Actually pretty much any sophie and howl scene from the last act of the movie, in particular the one where sophie tells howl to run away... and howl says that they won't because they've finally found something they wanna protect,,,, bc they have a family,,,, ough,,,,,

i yearn for funny kinda isaloop moments (HE LIKES MY SPARKKK)

do i really gotta say it. the opening scene of isat. Loop's wish. eating the fucking star the entire fucking opening of this game is a howls moving castle reference-

there's a lot more i could say about this one but i also wanna talk about my other ideas....

IDEA 2: Castle In The Sky x ISAT

hi, I love castle in the sky, am definitely normal about it, have definitely not made prior aus about it for totk, definitely not

Siffrin is Sheeta. just a random guy with special powers who came from a sky (star) centric civilization that has been forgotten by everyone? yeah. yeah that's. yup.

Isa is Patsu. not much to say there, just. they share a lot of similarities. except isa has more braincells. Also the idea of engineer Isa workin on the planes is enjoyable to me.

Odile is Dola. Listen. I need pirate Odile in my life. I need it with my whole body and soul. She would be wonderful. So full of piss and vinegar.

Mirabelle and Bonnie are members of Odile's crew, they got picked up along their journeys. Mira is there? because she's running form the secret police (Muska/The King ig)and Bonnie is there bc Nille is a mechanic who basically keeps the whole ship running

Muska is The King. There's not a lot I gotta say about this, other than Muska is genuinely the most terrifying Ghibli villain ever and is the reason why i watch this movie in dub (thank you Mark Hamill), so a lot of the conversations surrounding Laputa kinda remind me of the country

The Lost Country is Laputa, enough said, an entire country that has been forgotten by seemingly the entire world with technology and magic that is so powerful that it could quite literally lead to the destruction of humanity, yep yep yep

i also like the thought of the giant gem in the center of laputa being a star...

Misc ideas that I haven't really fleshed out as much:

Princess Mononoke: Siffrin is San. Isa is Ashitaka???? i guess???? Odile is Moro, Bonnie and Mira are the two unnamed wolf gods. The King is lady eboshi. the universe is the forest spirit, and triggers the red shade when it's head is severed. the kodamas are the little change god statues.

Spirited Away: Siffrin is Haku. the forgotten name, the loss of identity, the badassery... they've got it all. Bonnie as Chihiro, if you make it weird it's ON SIGHT, uhhhh loop as Kaonashi/No Face, The King as Yubaba, Euphrasie as Zeniba, Odile as Lin (I LOVE THE IDEA OF ODILE AS LIN WITH MY WHOLE SOUL, where is more hurt/comfort of odile and siffrin MY GOD-), beyond that i have zero idea who mira and isa would be ;w;

anyways yall have fun with this one

[kaythefloppa]

Wild Kratts - Chimpanzee and Me - Thoughts

The last of this week's new episode premiere, released online today alongside Salamander Streaming and Bumblezzzz. Will air on TV this coming Wednesday so as always, spoilers ahead!

K, so huge confession but Zooboomafo was the only other show by the Kratt Brothers I distinctively remember watching. I watched a few clips of Kratts' Creatures, but mistook them for WK as a kid. This is most definitely a callback to some Chimpanzee adventure episode in KC that I did not happen to pick up. So it's totally lost on me.

That being said, my prediction of references to previous Kratt Brothers' works reigns supreme (and for those who view all four Kratt Brother shows in one hollistic "canon" here's some ammo for your fan-theories).

Look at those delicious yummy grapes... wonder if they're being saved for later.

I will still never forget when the synopsis for this episode came out about Chris spraining his ankle, as well as when a synopsis for the clip came of him tripping on grapes. The constant memes and reactions omfg /silly

But seriously this man is in PAIN. This season for what it's worth, does a lot of angst and in ways you'd never expect.

I've never sprained or broken a limb, so I'm probably in no place to talk, but from the looks of that frame, Chris bent his ankle pretty damn good. He's definitely gonna be on hiatus for the next few weeks (which could ironically be taken metacontextually since after this episode we'll be on another hiatus until next year when the live show comes)

Ok let's talk about the villain's plan here. He wants to replace his Zachbots with a Chimpanzee he can roboticize to do his work. Here are my many thoughts and takeaways from this, some of which, definitely are just me reaching.

A step up from his dumbass plan in the last episode. Not threatening, but motivations that are actually sensible (but still evil though).

More than once have I seen the theory floating aound where Zach programmed his bots to be smart enough to obey his commands, but dumb enough to where they won't turn against him. I assumed that this episode was going to end with the cliche of Zach's creations turning on him as laser guided karma (hint it doesn't) so it really puts things into perspective.

Considering how we are getting two Zach-related episodes in a row, coming just off the heels of Our Blue and Green World, I like to headcanon that Zach's overall character in this batch of episodes is some form of response or byproduct of the events of that special. Because between Paisley's sudden betrayal, Donita's callous threat of physical violence in the previous episode, and his henchmen's limited intellect, he realizes how much he is fundamentally losing control, both in the villain team, and in his own endeavors as a villain. He's slowly, yet consistently and constantly being knocked down from the pedestal that he views himself on, and by trying to change the status quo with a new animal assistant, he thinks he can keep himself up at the top where he thinks he belongs, completely oblivious to how he's his own worst enemy. Yes, I'm overanalyzing all 3 episodes and I love it.

This is another moment where I HAVE to use my one-video-only-free-card to convey the point across because a certain scene is that good. This is only a 34 second action sequence where the chimpanzees are running from the Zachbots, but holy hell the background music. I had to isolate the background noises just to share it with y'all so you can see my point as to how the music absolutely carries this scene. Pure West has always gone so hard with the scores in this show, but they were absolutely on fire for this brief chase scene. I actually tensed up seeing the Chimp's mother getting torn away from her baby as the music swole up. Yet another reason why PBS should release an official soundtrack for the series, it's so fucking good.

Ok so Chris doesn't activate Chimpanzee Powers, nor does he invent the disc but goddamnit! This entire plot is so cute, and dare I say, the episode actually works better with Chris not being the one to activate the suit.

Now I can use my allotted time to point out how much I love this scene and why it makes this episode very well-liked for most people, myself included. This isn't the first PBS Kids show to educate viewers on non-verbal communication such as facial expressions and sign language, and it's definitely far from the last, but it's a really sweet and sincere moment that's both educational, and really good rep for people who use sign language. It gets its point across efficiently and could very well reach out to any children at home who use ASL. It's magnificent.

Also, Leah is fun, I hope we see her more in future eps.

THE CHIMPANZEE POWER SUIT

Ok I take it back: This is definitely the best designed Creature Power Suit of S7. I remember dreading it because of how alike Chimpanzees and Humans are physically, but oh my god I am so glad to be wrong. It's giving full Season 1 vibes (looks a lot like the Orangutan Suit, total sense), and I am all FOR IT.

And again, I feel like I would/should be angry or disappointed that Chris didn't activate the suit, but again, the plot actually works better without him using the suit, and the design of the Chimpanzee Suit itself is so good, everything just comes together neatly.

Bro is in his peak.

I mean, still peak.

Joss pointed this out better than I could, but there are a lot of varied facial expressions for Zach in this episode. As mentioned earlier, during the hiatus in between Season 6 and 7, new builders and riggers were hired on the animation team for Wild Kratts, many of them likely fans of the show themselves. And again, seeing as there's a 2 year gap between S6 and S7 in terms of development, there's bound to be some slight differences in rigs or models. Which is definitely why we get a lot of moments like this in the episode.

My two cents. I can definitely see why people would be caught off guard, and yeah, at such a high frequency it can get off-putting and requires some getting used to. But at the same time, I kinda dig it, just for the camp factor. It also somewhat reminds me of some of the facial expressions used in the pilot episode, (which has the stronger excuse of different animation + art-style to back it up), but yeah, definitely something that catches the eye.

Zach's hair is defnitely giving Kovu from Lion King 2 and I mean this in the worst. Possible. Way.

This entire scene can be seen as an allegory for two different types of parenting. Zach takes harsh, demanding approaches, speaking without listening for the sake of control, all out of a place of emotional unintelligence and immaturity, which alienates + drives away the child; Whilst Chris takes a more constructive, compassionate, understanding, yet still direct approach to get through to the child/chimp, allowing for a proper solution to the issue at hand. Yes, I'm pointlessly over analyzing even more but in an episode where communication is the main focus & moral of the episode as well as the resolution to the climax, I have to wonder if someone, whether it'd be the writers, animators, or even network execs did it on purpose. Because once again, you could takeaway a really good lesson for kids, and even adults with this interpretation in mind.

Oh yeah, once we get past that stuff, the climax of this episode is like, really fucking hilarious. And Zach getting mind-controlled by his own helmet is still a good dose of laser guided karma.

CONCLUSION:

Cons:

A few of the facial expressions can be a bit jarring. Again, Joss pointed it out perfectly how this episode could've been earlier in S7's development so these adjusted rigs probably can and will get better. I wouldn't even say it as a con, it's just some little thing of the episode that doesn't really lower my overall opinions.

This is a personal nitpick of mine; Not a critique. I think we could've seen more of the chimpanzees in action. I'm talking about face-offs with gorillas (which I think we might get an episode on that in the future, idk), hunting monkeys, leopard attacks! But I do get why it wasn't in the episode, it would've just bogged down time. Frankly, the only reason why I'm putting the cons first is because there is so much I have to say otherwise.

Pros:

The animation overall

The backgrounds

The Chimpanzee Power Suit

The Chimpanzees themselves.

The Background Music

Chris angst!!!!!!

The A plot and B plot perfectly complementing each other, which makes certain writing decisions that could've fallen short, work so much better as a result in execution!

Zach not being a dumb POS like he was in the last epiosde!

The chimpanzee designs!!!!

The very well-handled representation and depiction of sign-language and lessons of communications to its young audiences!

Final Ranking: 9.2/10. Our Blue and Green World and No Name Dream subverted expectations (mainly through Paisley's redemption and the S1 callbacks + the return of the Draco Power Suit). This is the first episode of Season 7 that exceeded my expectations. It is far better than how I thought it would be, and the experimental writing that this season has been hinged upon thus far hit the mark entirely when it came to this episode. So much so that it actually raised the already-high expectations I had for the new season. It is that. Fucking. Good. I'd easily call it a contender for one of the best episodes of the season, but again, we'll have to wait and see.

[romchat]

Fangs of Fortune (Ep. 25): Quick thoughts on the visuals

Pretty sure that last scene of Fangs of Fortune's Episode 25 made me feral and has not given me a moment of peace since I saw it (where's the fanfic, y'all???), but it did highlight for me something distinct about Director Guo Jingming's visual storytelling that isn't often discussed: his actor blocking.

Like in My Journey to You, Guo often uses how the actors are positioned in relation to the set and one another to reveal something about their characters, and he then shifts them like pieces on a chess board to signify changes in their mental state and/or relationships. This directing choice really gives his scenes a sense of movement and tension because the characters literally end up in different positions than where they started. We see the change on screen as much as we hear it in the script.

At the beginning of the scene, we see Li Lun looming over Zhuo Yichen, reveling in the latter's apparent defeat over being harassed for being a demon.

Even though Li Lun eventually kneels down, it is menacing and just as much a power move as when he was standing up.

But we instantly feel the switch in the flow of power within the conversation when the distance between the two actors gets smaller. It's like Li Lun is both compelled and repulsed by Yichen's defense of humans and his criticism of Li Lun's indiscriminate violence towards them.

So we know that Li Lun has lost control of the situation when he stands up again and leg kabedons Yichen, pinning him roughly against the wall. Unlike earlier in the conversation, he now has to resort to brute strength to repress Yichen, and we see that realization on Li Lun's anguished face.

SIDE NOTE: That little grunt and exhale of air from Yichen at that move? Sorry, my mind wandered. Moving on...

Up until this point, Yichen has been relatively calm, but when Li Lun goes too far by calling him a coward like Zhu Yan (big mistake to insult his man!), Yichen demonstrates his power and blasts him away from into the water.

Not only is Yichen now looming over Li Lun, they're literally not on the same level, the latter isolated and cast in darkness. His resentment and crimes have sunk him to such a level that Yichen can only see him as pitiful.

Li Lun's switch to Bai Jiu's form in the background as Yichen walks away reinforces this. As a child actor, Lester Lin is significantly smaller than Yan An, so the use of his body makes Li Lun look even weaker.

SIDE NOTE: What a devastating use of rack focus from Li Lun to Yichen, showing how his manipulation won't work on Yichen no matter how painful it must feel to see Xiao Jiu. The shallow depth of field weakens Li Lun's image (and therefore power) even further.

Finally, I love how this scene ends with Yichen walking past Li Lun who remains immobile in the water but eventually drags himself in the other direction. It's the perfect bookend to the start of the scene. Yichen moves beyond that barrier (Li Lun's body), looking forward into the future despite the challenges he will face, while Li Lun's stays behind, most likely choosing an even more self-destructive end to his tragic story.

God, I love this director even when his writing drives me up a wall.

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

I've been thinking about yandere Malleus again and how well you wrote that scene out. ❤️ May I get another yan!Malleus but with corruption kink and size difference? (Over a foot's worth of size difference.) - Starlight

Why of course, Starlight~ I hope you enjoy this continuation of your previous request~

Title: Crime and Punishment (Continuation of The King's New Toy)

Characters: Malleus x m!Reader

Contains: Dark themes (Yandere), corruption, size difference, rough sex, restraints, stepping, overstimulation, orgasm denial, hand job, pet names (love, dear, pet, darling) we're back in Diasomnia's dungeon, double dick Malleus

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

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"I can't believe my toy would try to run away..." Malleus slowly circled you, eying you like a predator hunting its fresh prey as his heels clicked against the floor.

You sat on your knees, head hanging down and wrists tied behind you. Your attire was ragged, holes and slipping off your body. You thought you looked like a prisoner of war, but Malleus saw the fruits of his efforts, or what he only thought were the fruits of his efforts. He saw a scared, trembling little human, a meek little thing. How dare you try to run away after all the kindness he has given you.

You didn't dare meet his gaze as you spoke. "M-Malleus, please I-I'm s--"

His steps stopped suddenly in front of you, and your body went cold. "Did I give you permission to speak, love?"

You shut up immediately, not even risking the answer.

"Good boy~" His steps resumed, the clicking sound of his heels returning. "You know...the reason why I keep you in this dungeon is so I can keep you to myself. I'd hate for any of the others to try to make a move on something that is mine."

You had opened your mouth to speak, but you were quick to shut it, remembering your place.

"I mean, I trust you." He paused, speaking and moving. "Or rather...trusted you." The prince's voice was laced with disappointment as green eyes glared down at your meek form, glinting in the dim room as he resumed his actions. "And here I thought about bringing you to my room, giving you a soft bed to sleep on while I was away, even giving you this lovely little collar that would decorate your delicate little neck."

This was all a game, a sick and twisted game for Malleus. He had left the cell door open on purpose, waiting to see how you'd react. Catching you outside of the cell, well...the rage he felt nearly sent him into overblot. Nearly. Luckily Lilia was there to calm him down, and he even helped restrain you and got you into position in the cell, forcing you to wait for the prince.

So you cursed yourself for being the slightest bit curious, though...part of you was sort of...excited right now.

"Do you have anything to say, dear? You may speak."

Despite the permission, the idea of speaking to Malleus almost felt like a sin itself, but this could be your only chance to speak while it was given to you.

"I-I'm truly sorry, Malleus. P-Please, give me another chance." Your head rose from its hanging position, meeting Malleus's narrowed gaze. "I-I swear to behave! I-I won't run again!"

Malleus was silent save for a small hum, stepping behind you once more. His silence felt deafening, seemingly more terrifying than a verbal response. He pressed his heel to your back, pushing you forward.

Before you knew it, your torso was on the ground, his heel gently pressing into your spine as your form now lay flat on the chilly dungeon floor. A strange chill washed over your body as the light pressure pinned you in place.

"...Do you think you're worthy of another chance, pet?" Your heart strangely wrenched from the name change, knowing well that he was not happy with your response. "I expected more from my toy than some half-hearted apology." As he got to 'half-hearted', the pressure of his shoe increased lightly, causing you to let out a silent, startled gasp.

"I-It wasn't half-hearted, I swear! I promise, I'll be good! I'll--!"

The pressure in your back increased once more. There was no pain, but the pressure certainly heated your body, causing you to shudder.

"Did. I. Give. You. Permission?" Malleus enunciated each word slowly, pressing gently into your back at every word. You hated to admit it but...it felt nice. This force of Malleus felt...nice.

Snapping you out of your taboo thoughts, you heard Malleus sigh as he released you from underneath him. The lack of pressure almost felt like a disappointment. He stepped in front of you, and you weren't able to see much, but when he forced your head up by your hair, putting you back to your knees, you could see angered green eyes narrowed in a domineering stare.

"It seems that you are still unaware of your place, dear. Shall we change that?"

---

Malleus had shackled each wrist on either side of your head, putting you in a position that forced you to stand, lest you decide to hang by your wrists. He admired his work, eying you up and down. His gaze felt like a pair of hands running up and down your body, and it didn't help that he made you strip prior, enhancing the feeling.

"Shackles are a nice look on you, love. Perhaps I should keep you in them more often~"

The prince slowly stepped forward, once again appearing like a predator. Honestly, if you could, you would kneel before him and beg for his forgiveness, because before, you never realized just how tall he is. The top of your head met the top of his chest. Basically, if he wanted to, he could rest his chin on your head. You truly felt small against him, and you were more than willing to grovel before the prince's presence.

But chains kept you from doing so, and even if you could, you knew Malleus would punish you for such a feeble act.

Black nails gently skimmed down your exposed arms before they found a place at your neck, gently pressing into your flesh. It wasn't enough to hurt, but the pressure kept you on guard.

"Now...I trust you can behave, yes?" When you failed to respond, Malleus simply chuckled deeply. "You may speak, dear."

"Y-Yes," you breathed as if you had been holding your breath from his touch. "I-I'll behave. I swear."

Not wasting a moment, Malleus grabbed your hips and lifted you up. Your eyes widened when you felt a hard object line your backside and another pressing against your own hardening shaft. You wrapped your legs around him to keep yourself up, but really, that was unneeded with the prince's strength.

"Should you prove yourself, darling, I will accept your forgiveness and even bring you up to my room as I originally intended." One of his hands left your side as he gently caressed your face, fingers carefully tracing your jaw. You leaned into his touch, melting against him. A dark chuckle left him, knowing his actions were slowly changing you. "Perhaps I could shackle your neck like a dog..."

The idea made your cock twitch, a soft whine unintentionally leaving you. The response did not go unnoticed with Malleus.

"Hmph~ How lewd of you, love. You like the idea of that, yes?"

You nodded, assuming such a response should be okay within Malleus. You'd be correct, as Malleus leaned forward to line your neck with a slow, teasing lick of his tongue instead of berating you in some way.

A soft mewl left your lips as you felt Malleus's hips adjust. His tongue stopped by your ear as he whispered darkly. "Let's get your punishment over with so I can keep my pet at my bedside~"

The pain of your ass stretching was enough to make you nearly black out. It didn't matter that his cocks were slick, they still ached when they entered, but you were thankful that it wasn't the first time he entered, as this time your ass was quick to adjust around such shafts.

"My...used to me already?" the prince teased in a breath, feeling just how tight you were around him. "Has your body been corrupted~?"

You weren't sure if it was or not, as you couldn't think straight at the moment. Malleus gave you permission to speak, stating that from now on you are free to answer him whenever he asks a question.

"I-I...I-I'm not sure...~" Your voice was coated with lust, your legs holding onto his waist tightly. "A-All I know is...I-I want you, Malleus...P-Please~"

One of his hands rested on your neck, the thumb tilting up your head to meet your gaze like you were a doll. "You desire me, love? Well, worry not. You will get me, but it may not be what you actually want." Keeping his hand in place, his forefinger extended up, his nail gently scraping down your cheek. "You will scream, you will cry, you may even beg me to stop, but my actions will not cease. You will learn to understand your place."

"M-Malleus, my love, I-I understand! I-I understand my p--place~!!"

You spoke after a statement, not a question, meaning Malleus took things back into control. He thrusted his hips, both his cocks sliding in and out of you at a rapid speed. The pleasure wrecked into you like a sack of bricks, and you swore you were about to suffocate from it. His movements felt so good, enough to cause you to dig your head into the wall behind you as you screamed in bliss. You called for Malleus, your prince, your love. You were quick to submit, your mind broken from all he had put your through before this. Before you tried to work with him, but now? Now you were just gone, willing to allow yourself to be his pet, his toy. You loved it. You loved him.

"M-Malleus~! F-Fuck~!" You tugged against the chains, as if trying to get away from the overwhelming pleasure, but the fae had his hands on your hips, keeping you firmly in place. There was no escape from the prince's onslaught of pleasure. He would be right: you would scream, you would cry, and yes, you even begged him to stop. You didn't want him to stop because you hated it, no. You wanted him to stop because it was too good. You were in heaven as tears rolled down your face, drool slipping from your lips from your mouth hanging open from the unforgiving pounding. Your cock ached with the desire to release, but at some point, Malleus had gripped the base, preventing you from cumming at all.

You were unsure of how long this lasted, but all you knew is that you didn't want it to end. Malleus had, indeed, corrupted you. You wanted him, you wanted more if possible. You wanted to be his favroite.

At some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. Your voice was hoarse as you spoke. "M-Malleus~! P-Please let me cum~! P-Please~! I-I wanna cum...f-for my king~!"

Your words seemed to intrigue him, his actions faltering for just a moment. "Y-You want to finish? Th-Then...tell me. What are you...going to do?"

You didn't miss a beat. "I-I'm gonna...be a good toy! I-I'll listen! I-I won't ever run...away again! I-I'll be a good boy! I-I promise! I-I promise, my king!" You had to force your voice out, struggling to even form coherent thoughts.

Malleus trusted you, and with that trust, he took his hand and kept the pressure of the grip as he rapidly moved his hand along your cock, jerking you off with no way to cum. You shrieked in ecstacy, thrashing against him as you begged for release. Your mind turned to mush as you wished for nothing more than to cum. When his hand loosened up, it was practically instataneous with his own release. As you shot out multiple ropes of white between you, Malleus's two shafts pumped its own set of thick, white liquid deep inside of you, some of it dripping out of you.

Panting softly, Malleus took note of this, sighing lightly. "Oh my...you're dripping my release onto the floor...what a shame." Removing his hand, Malleus licked whatever of your seed that landed on his hand, humming at your bitter taste. "When I relocate you, I'll have to make sure to acquire a toy that keeps whatever I leave inside of you."

You honestly weren't listening at this point. You were practically unconscious, your eyes half lidded as they gazed at nothing, your chest slowly heaving with air. You heard him, you just couldn't respond properly save for a delayed nod. Taking note of this, Malleus chuckled.

"What a good boy~"