#Which is a tad bit annoying because when I planned them they absolutely did

[umbracirrus]

I've managed to do a bit of reading this evening, which I'm so happy about, I've been procrastinating doing it for a while now. I'm hoping that means I'll be able to chop away at some other things on my to do list, which include:

More reading-!!

Doing a bit more on my drawing of Elyse in her armour

Making a serious moodboard for Elyse (following on from my cursed one)

Making a little more progress on The Perfect Storm

Working on the next one of my 'Things Balgruuf and Elyse do as a couple' posts which is what they do when they're apart :3

On top of the normal everyday stuff. Like... Tidying. Working. Playing games. Think I might be making a pie again tomorrow? Just. Y'know. Stuff.

[ashmp3]

closing #heyteo 💌

i want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart who's ever tagged me in their posts! i can't put it into words how grateful i am for having such talented, sweet people around me that wanted to share their beautiful creations with me. i cherish them all and i hope yapping in my tags conveyed that. Honestly i could talk about them in great lengths (and mostly i did...) so this is why i feel like i think its right time to wrap this up - i feel bad when i can't sit down, talk my ass off and give my full attention to each and every single post. Sadly i don't think its possible for me to do it now which is why i am writing all this, with a tear in my eye honestly. I checked and saw i have 925 (and counting!) posts in this tag and first of all - that is CRAZY! I am so grateful you have no idea. I really, really cherished this little corner of the internet that i called my own so this is all bittersweet but i think it's for the best! Lastly, i don't plan on going anywhere just yet so of COURSE feel free to tag me in anything you think i shouldn't miss (especially Jeonghan and your selfies... of course) - you already know a block of tags will be coming your way! And for being my amazingly talented friends i wrote little thank-you notes for everyone that made #heyteo one of the best decisions i made on tumblr 💌 I appreciate you all SO so so so much!

@jeonwonwoo -> my angel and the reason i even made this tag miss zaynab! We would be here for weeks if i started talking about how thankful i am for your existence. My no1 source of Jeonghan gifs, someone who perfectly matches my freak - thank you the MOST! (And ofc you can still expect me to go on tangents under your gifs i mean... that's what this blog is all about!) Love you!🩷🫶🏼

@kimsuyeon -> my talented lili, with the most wonderful gifs that are just so YOU! Always so wonderfully curated and colored, your idol + era collection is for the HERstory books if you ask me. Thank you for sharing them with all of us. i am so happy to have you around and i am thankful that you have been one of Thee contributors to #heyteo 🫶🏼🩷

@pink-vacancy -> i think it wouldn't be wrong to call you my yuna and mina supplier 🤭 cherry yuna is for the history books and you are the biggest contributor to that fact! thank you so much for always tagging me and making my tag a tad bit spicier and sexier with the gorgeous, stunning women you gif! love you and appreciate you SO much 💌🍒🫶🏼

@scouped -> MAX you are such an integral part of #heyteo through your many sideblogs and i am always so so sooo grateful for it! i love everyone but of course i love svt just a tad bit more so seeing your sets always made me so giddy and excited 🫶🏼 again, one of the people that really pushed me to make this tag in the first place so i want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. love you!!! 💖🌟

@vcrnons -> j!!! my dear sweet darling J that wanted to kill me on more than one occasion. thank you so much for tagging me and sorry for all the things i said under your gifs its like they hypnotize me... And ofc i am excited to be annoying under your tags in the future 🫶🏼💖💖💖

@scoupsies -> my naya funniest sweetest most talented darling... You've been thee highlight of my user tag - and i promise i will still be yapping under your gifs like how could i not?! you best believe i will be checking you blog so i don't miss anything because well that would just be devastating for me. thank you so much for tagging me i love you & appreciate you SO much!!! 🫶🏼🩷💌

@neonsbian -> my wayv supplier and source of updates 🤭 thank you so much vinnie, for always tagging me in everything so far & i always enjoyed seeing my twin yangyang in the tag (for better or worse) 💖

@no1boa -> lulu! absolute master of gifs thank you SO much for always tagging me in your dreamy, beautiful creations. honestly i will miss them SO much... so expect me to go through your blog like a morning newspapers and look for new sets 🙂‍↕️🫶🏼🤍

@taeiltual -> i always say this in the tags but every single company would benefit from a BexTM master class on editing! Thank you so much for sharing your works and thank your for tagging me 🤍🫶🏼🌟

@facethesuns -> em your posts always make me feel like ground is shaking... Thank you so much for tagging me in your stuff & of course i am excited to keep yapping in the tags in the future 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️💖

@ningtual -> MY SUNWOO SUPPLIER oh henna this is for the better or worse because my blood pressure rises whenever i see him... thank you for tagging me in your beautiful aespa edits (and nunulino...) love you mwah mwah!!! 🫶🏼🩷

@talksaxy -> even though we haven't been mutuals for a long time, whenever you would tag me in sungchan you best believe i would kick my feet and get giddy... thank you so much for adding a beautiful fawn touch to my tag! & ofc expect me to be in your tags either way, and yeah this kinda reads as a threat but you can't blame me really can't you... thank you sooo much. mwah! 🫶🏼🌟💖

@28reas0ns -> oh wwill first of all i want to say i love your vision and how we both sometimes make similar connections... You have such an eye for the aesthetics and it was such an honor to seen every post you made so thank you SO much for tagging me it truly meant so much to me 🫶🏼💖🤍💖🤍

@isabelleadjani -> first of all thank you for using it for its intended purposes (selfies!!!). and second of all thank you for tagging me in your beautiful, gorgeous gifs. You always go one level up and its so evident in the way you present your sets. I would still love to get tagged in your selfies of course thats a no brainer really 🫶🏼 Thank you so much & i really appreciate your presence on here 🤍🤍🤍

@junmail -> oh its been such a delight to see all the junhui in my tag (along with others of course) so thank you SO much for tagging me and sharing your beautiful gif sets with me (and everyone else)🫶🏼💖

@doyeons -> BELLA!!! first of all. thank you for sungah and seohyun gifs that was kinda legendry don't you agree. Thank you for amplifying frommy gifs in my tag they made me so crazy but also... i am very thankful 🙂‍↕️ And you best believe i will still be under your posts like a pathetic little guy. Kiss!!! 🫶🏼💖

@eightshotamericano -> elly my local jeonghan enthusiast i want to thank you for tagging me in your posts i really enjoyed them always 💖 and i appreciate you for thinking of me, love you!🥹🫶🏼

@seonghwasblr -> I know there wasn't many but i still want to send my virtual thank you card for including me in your beautiful gifs of jeonghan my darling maja i really appreciate it!🫶🏼💖

@jeonwon-wonwoo -> maddie thank you for tagging me in your lessera gifs back in the beginning of the year - it was so sweet of you! 🫶🏼💖 again, a huge thank you to everyone who’s tagged me in their posts. it truly means a lot, and I’m so grateful for each and every one of you who’s taken the time to include me. I appreciate you all more than words can express 🥹🥹🥹🫶🏼🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[simbelmyne20niniel]

Yeah, Sex Pistols are definitely that raw explosion, they couldn't be like The Clash, there's no way, hahaha!

True, The Clash's lyrics are so much more serious. Girl: "Joe Strummer, the man that you were 🛐✨️" were? I am beginning to be like that 😂 ...I love you for the pics of Joe, especially the third one, that dork, omg!!! *saves every single one*

*clears my throat* Okay, before I start fangirling like a teenager 😂

Oh? What are your plans if you come back to uni? What degree did you study and what is on your mind to study next?

I'm studying librarianship, 3rd year of bachelor. This is my second bachelor, because I either had a choice to go to work after the first one (there was NO work in the field) or go do master degree on Polish Philology degree (my first bachelor). I've chosen the third option, so doing something completely out of the blue and what that annoying voice in my head told me to do.

You like rain? 👀

My favorite Beatles' song at the moment would be "A Fool on The Hill". Lately I've bought "Magical Mystery Tour" and heard this again and it just got stuck. It's such a nice song - I even sang along in the car yesterday.

Favorites from The Police would be:

Invisible Sun

Walking on The Moon

No Time This Time

Canary in a Coalmine

Synchronicity I

And one more thing, I LOVE drumming in this band. Your Santa is a tad bit insane about drummers and Stewart Copeland is the reason why I even started listening to The Police. Heard his drumming in "Roxanne" and was swept off my feet, it was this good and it still is, no matter how many times I hear it.

For The Clash it would be:

White Riot

London Calling

Spanish Bombs

Lost in The Supermarket

Julie's Been Working for The Drug Squad

And one more thing, Joe Strummer, I'm gonna end it at that, you saw how I reacted above 😂

Oh, I love your song choices, especially "Love Song" for Syd and "Cloud 9" for George.

You are right about not liking how media portray Syd. He was so much more than what they focus on and truly, his lyrics are beautiful. The things I like about Syd are what a kind person he seemed to be, that he wasn't restricting himself to only one way of making art - he also painted and knowing that he found peace in it later fills me with joy. I also like his voice a lot. I have "A Saucerful of Secrets" at home and I love hearing "Jugband Blues" each time. So soothing.

You're also right about George. He was speaking when he saw it necessary, almost always having a witty remark for everything. He was the most laid back of them all - it's the most visible in the "Anthology", he literally has so much fun during the interviews! I always liked this side of him.

For the next question tho... Your favorites from The Police and The Clash?

Your Santa 💜

"I am beginning to be like that" hahahah that was funny

Well, if I go for a master's degree it must be related to Linguistics since my major is Translator, but if I go for a second degree, I would probably choose a History major. 

OMG!!, I did my social service in my Faculty Library. It was an amazing experience. I learned a lot from the librarians there, and I (among 3 classmates that were doing their social service there too) helped with the translation of a book about that field. Thanks to that, now I know what ISBN means, hahahahhaha. I totally understand the "NO work field". I work as a second language teacher, which is cool! I like it! But I do want to do more than that. Polish Philology sounds absolutely interesting, so are you from Poland?

Yes!! I love rainy, windy, and cold weather.

Stewart Copeland is a great drummer!! From The Police I like:

Roxanne

Every Breath Yopu Take Message In A Bottle

Walking on The Moon

I totally agree with you about "Roxanne". You just can't get it out of your head once you hear it. I think I did this "moodboard" like two years ago... based on "Roxanne".

From The Clash:

London Calling

Rock The Casbah

Should I Stay or Shoud I Go

Bankrobber

Spanish Bombs

I Fought The Law

Know Your Rights

And just like you said it JOE STRUMMER.... Thanks internet, we appreciate his beauty....

Yes!! I also love how Syd influenced artists, like David Bowie (another of my favorite artists). To me, that speaks a lot about the real impact his art had on the industry. Also, I don't know if it's only me, but I do find Syd and Kate Bush (I love her too, she's an icon) a little similar in their artistic concepts, lyrics, and music. And the fact that David Gilmour kinda discovered Kate and co-produced her first album, makes me think that he probably saw a glimpse of Syd in her.

​What other bands or solo artists do you like? What important concert from the past would you have loved to go to?

[frankenwolf1564]

Newage Umibozu: Deep depths, deep cuts

I swear I’m not just going to review NewAge stuff I am not one of those people endlessly sucking their co-

Back with another NewAge offering, H43V Umibozu, aka Depth Charge, sees the legends scale company lightly poke Beast Wars with a ten-foot pole to bring the Transmetal 2 season three star to life in a somewhat unconventional fashion.

Before getting into the actual figure, we need a bit of context, partially because the story behind this release is half the fun. Back when the Kingdom line launched and we got the superb G1 Cyclonus, many fans noted that if you turned his spaceship mode around, it kind of resembled a manta ray. This prompted other, more diehard fans to ponder a potential retool to turn the mold into Beast Wars Depth Charge, in a similar vein to the Transformers Collectors Club Hunt For The Decepticons Terradive (whew!) repaint for the same character. While Hasbro passed on such a release, due to a number of different possible reasons, NewAge said “fuck it we ball” and announced Umibozu. If I’m remembering this correctly, he even came out after their initial batch of Cyclonus repaints, due to the fact this deco was inspired specifically by those fan comments. It’s not too dissimilar to how they announced a G2 Tigerstripe Grimlock after the Legacy figure was revealed. They saw there was a market and jumped into it.

Now, on to the actual toy! Depth Charge wears the Cyclonus mold well. His slim, slender form is a bit of a departure from the notoriously bulky original toy, but it does a much nicer job of matching the trimmed down show model. The round forearms help more than you might expect, being one of the few shapes to make a complete carryover. The chest does its job of evoking the originals fish face, and the colors stand bright and proud. The purples and blues are spot on, really helping bring this guy to life. Honestly, I couldn’t ask for much more outside of a wholly new mold, something that MP scale company Transart is planning on tackling.

The transformation meets a similar standard of “clever yet simple” that I’ve experienced with some of their other offerings. The nosecone/tail folds up quite elegantly, and the way the back of his legs reshape themselves is exceptionally well done. There is some partsforming to get him into manta ray mode, but considering the mold wasn’t designed to accommodate such features in the first place it is an unsurprising and not all that bothersome element. My only legitimate complaint about it is that the fins pegs are perhaps a bit too tight, making minor modifications to get them looking just right a tad annoying. The outcome for your efforts looks gorgeous, no matter which way you spin it. The blues and silvers are cleanly separated, with some delightful purple accents at the retooled wingtips. The fins still work just fine for the jet mode, the stylized departure not detracting too much from the jet’s profile or making it feel like it could never work as such, especially not in the world of the transformers. Of course, we all know why they’re really here. With a quick hand transplant and literally just turning the thing around, you’re left with a more than serviceable manta ray. Could they have made a more believable/organic alt mode? Not as easily, but almost absolutely. Did they need to? No. This doesn’t feel “off” compared to the original considering its techno-organic nature. Pro-tip though, scrunch up the nose cone for a better-looking tail.

I know I’ve made a fair amount of comparisons to the original but those are completely based on “feel” of the character and he’s had two toys alright?

                Articulation is mostly within NewAges standard, with only one or two gripes holding him back. Starting at the bend in his die-cast toes (not a lost art anymore, huh?), he’s got ankle tilts, a 90° knee bend, thigh swivels, ball jointed hips, accompanying skirt flaps, a waist swivel just because this time, an ab crunch, universal jointed shoulders, and a ball jointed head. His arms can hinge outward at the bicep, mostly for the transformation, but if that’s extended even slightly you can’t use the bicep swivel. His elbows are double jointed, and he comes with a wrist swivel thanks to a pair of alternate hands. You can swivel his forearms if you so wish, but again this is another transformation joint and doesn’t look all that natural most of the time. You’re still more than able to get a wide range of dynamic, expressive poses out of him, but the arms are left just a bit cumbersome. Accessories are kept fairly light, with the manta ray fins, a pair of open hands to really sell some of those poses, and a blaster that he can have a bit of trouble holding dead on due to the shape of his arms.

As a new Beast Wars Depth Charge, this obviously falls short, but as a pre-earth Cybertronian Depth Charge? It hits every mark it needs to. It comes in looking stunning and executes the idea presented perfectly. Regardless of whatever flaws the figure may have, it sets out with a concept and completely nails it. This is, I believe, NewAge at their best. Not strictly adhering to cartoon accuracy cMph Devastator, but taking liberties and creating something new. Both this and H60W Mimic (reviewed here!) revive the long-begotten Hasbro days of turning whatever into whoever. We simply don’t get as many imaginative repaints as we used to, despite the apparent rising tooling costs. Gone are the times when we’d regularly get the likes of ROTF Deadend, Energon Tradbolt, Armada Airazor, or nearly the entirety of the Universe 2003 line. There are plenty more examples with convention exclusives and the like, even Depth Charges second actual figure was exclusive to the Transformers Collectors Club, but those have always specifically been more specialized and niche, as well as impossible to get your hands on nowadays. There is one I’ll need to take a look at though… thankfully I won’t have to go on a complete rampage to find it.

[casspurrjoybell-32]

Burn For Me - Chapter 3a

*Warning Adult Content*

Conner Carmichael

“What the crap,” someone exclaimed as we hit the floor.

I was in such a rush to leave I didn’t see the person walking down the hall.

A curtain of gold appeared in the corner of my eyes, as I collided with a soft body.

“I’m, so sorry,” I stuttered trying to get to my feet.

An annoyed tisking sound came from the person below me and I finally glanced down at them.

I found myself straddling Constance Sky, the neighboring pack Alpha's daughter.

She was one of the most renowned female wolves in our Elder Academy when we were seniors last year.

I had never met her before but I had seen her and heard of her ruthless mean girl ways and popularity with the male species.

And it was just my luck that I would be the one to run in to her.

“Get the fuck off me, dweeb,” she snarled as her green eyes glared daggers at me.

Quickly, I scrambled to my feet apologizing once more before lending her my hand which she smacked away with a huff.

“What the hell is your problem, Connor?” she snapped picking up her purse and wiped her short white skirt off, there were dirt stains already marring the clean fabric.

I opened my mouth to say something but suddenly I stopped… wait did she just say my name?

I thought in astonishment.

“You know who I am?” I asked staring at her with my jaw to the floor.

Queen bee knew my name.

I watched as she stopped for a second as something flashed in her eyes before she regain her composure and I frowned, what was that about.

“Well duh, doofus. You are one of the most lame person to ever walk these halls,” she scoffed, looking at me with such an absolute expression, I cringed back a little.   

"Ow."

“Now are you going to tell me what the hell you’re doing down in the west wing? This is a restricted area, closed off to students and visitors and that includes you loser. What are you doing at school anyway? Reminiscing about your pathetic high school years?” she said rising one perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow.

“Why are you down here? I’m pretty sure you graduated along with me, if I’m not mistaken?” I shot back.

Her face took on the color of a light pink.

“That’s none of your business, dumbass” she retorted with an elegant hair flip.

“Why do you keep insulting me?” I asked tilting my head in question.

“Because I want to” she shrugged.

‘That’s not even an answer,’ I thought internally rolling my eyes.

Then I remembered her question and it brought me back to why I had freaked out earlier.

“I think there’s someone in a giant metal box, down in the old prison cell,” I said pointing to the door behind me.

I watched her blink a few times as she looked at me like I had two heads.

“Well this was fun but I think I’m going to go now,” she said slowly, as she backed away but I reach forward, grabbing her by the arm.

“No, I’m serious. The school is going to do something terrible to them. I heard these men having an ominous conversation back there, like something big was going to happen tonight.”

That edgy feeling was coming back to me and it was crushing my chest with its invisible force.

For some reason, I knew it would be bad, if whatever these people had planned, where to succeed.

“Let go of my arm,” Constance struggled from my grip.

“Please. I know you’re a skilled Elder and we can get them out,” I pushed.

I was desperate to save this person and I had no idea why.

They could be some serial killer being contained.

“Why. Would. I. Help. You,” she stressed ever word as she tried to wiggle from my hold.

“Aren’t you a tad bit curious, as to why a school would lock someone up, in a place of learning? This is supposed to be a safe environment, why would they put us in danger like that? So the only other suggestion is, that they wouldn’t, which means that there is an innocent being held, against his will,” I said trying to validate the situation.

“You’re probably imagining things, now let go,” finally she got free, slightly stumbling in her heels before catching her balance.

“Now I’m going home, nut job,” with that she turned away.

“They are going to kill them,” I exclaimed causing her to stop mid step.

“That’s a pretty big accusation,” her back was still to me but I had her attention.

“Yes, it is but I believe in my gut that I’m right.”

“And if your wrong?” she said, turning her body slightly, to look at me.

“What if your overly active imagination gets us in a heap of trouble? You can’t forget that this isn’t just a school, this is the council’s territory and you’ll be meddling in their affairs.”

Her whole attitude switched suddenly it took me back a bit.

Her expression was so serious it sent a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed before straightening.

“I know but I’m not wrong,” I said, my words full of conviction.

The click of her heels echoed as she leisurely made her way past me giving me a sideways glance.

“If you’re wrong and the council ends up catching us down here and were punished for it, you’ll be my slave for a whole month.”

With that said she was back to her regular self again.

Constance shoved the wood door open, the screeching it caused grated on my ears.

I watched her boldly stomp down the stairs glancing around expectantly.

“So where’s this giant metal thingy you were talking about?” she asked gazing up at me as I rushed after her.

“It’s in the far back, you can’t miss it,” I said coming up next to her and walking with her to towards the back.

Once the metal box came in to view her steps faltered.

“Whoa, what the hell is that thing?” she asked moving forward to touch it and I quickly grabbed her hand mere inches from the cell.

"Don’t,” I warned, placing her hand back to her side.

She glanced at me with a frown.

“Like seriously, you need to stop touching me, weirdo,” I shrugged off her comment as I stared at the cell thing.

“Damn it’s hot down here,” she complained.

“I know.”

She sighed heavily before suddenly called out.

“Hello. Is someone in there?”

I flinched at her abrupt noises... nothing.

She turned her head towards me giving me an ‘I told you so’ glance.

“See, just your stupid imagination,” she then turned on her heels and began to strut away but I wasn’t convinced.

“Hey. I know you’re in there, do you need help?” I exclaimed.

I know I’m right.

I wasn’t hearing things before.

And deep down I was sure this person need my help.

After a moment the sound of chains rattled and Constance paused in shock.

I turned returning her earlier expression back at her.

“I told you.”

“No way,” she said, coming up next to me.

“I told you.”

She tisked, rolling her eyes at me.

“Well... there has to be a way in.”

I leered at the metal cell in inquisitiveness.

There had to be a way to open the damn thing.

“How about we come back later tonight, think on it because it’s freaking hot down here and I have papers to grade,” she suggested but I shook my head.

“They’re coming for them tonight,” I stressed walking on the other side of the metal container to see if there was a door there, no luck.

Constance sighed in frustration.

“How do you know it’s not an axe murder your trying to release?”

“Your sarcasm is not needed,” I retorted without looking at her.

“Well, I don’t understand what you think you’re going to accomplish, without a fucking door.”

“Well how about you help me, instead of making your griping complaints,” I snapped whirling around to face her with a scowl.

Her eyes widened suddenly before she scoffed at me and glared back.

“Hey. I’m down here. Aren’t I? I don’t need to do anything for you, jerk,” she barked, stomped her foot.

I continued to stare at her and finally she looked away towards the cell.

“Has it crossed your mind, that maybe the door, is on the top of the cell.”

“Why the hell would they build a door, on the ceiling of a cell?” I asked confused.

Constance shrugged.

“Beats me but it seems like that’s the only place we haven’t checked.”

I glanced up,

“How the hell do we get up there?” I groaned.

“Climb it,” Constance said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But we can’t touch the metal. It's too hot... trust me, I know.”

“Well then, let's cool it down.”

[messers-moony]

Someday | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Wife!Reader

Summary: The Handler kidnaps Five’s wife in hopes of him coming for her, yet he never does.

Request: Well I'd like to order a FiveXWifeReader but I'm afraid you're full of orders and I don't want to get in the way🤧

She sighed, “ This is bloody exhausting, ya’ know? “ 

“ Well, maybe if you hadn’t abandoned the commission, this wouldn’t be happening, Mrs.Hargreeves. “ The older woman spoke. 

The eighteen-year-old girl was tied to a chair. It had been approximately five years since her and Five’s last run-in with the commission after doomsday in 1963. Why they had decided to get them back on their side is unknown.  

“ So Y/n, how does it feel? “ The adult woman taunted, “ Your taunting doesn’t work on me. “ Y/n retorted with boredom. 

Nonetheless, the adult woman held a glass of whiskey, “ Whiskey? You have absolutely no taste. “ Y/n commented, and the woman rose her eyebrow, “ Really now? What would you prefer? Rum? Perhaps moonshine? “ 

“ Vodka, straight. “ Y/n snapped, “ What a tough cookie you are. “ The Handler cooed. 

“ I’m not thirteen anymore. “ The young girl replied, “ It appears so. “ The Handler stated. 

Y/n scoffed quietly, “ What’s the plan here? Why have you kidnapped me instead of one of your pawns? “ 

“ Well, hun, you know more than anyone that this task isn’t easy. It’s easiest for me to get this job done myself. “ The commission superior answered, “ In case you’ve forgotten, I willingly did this. “ Y/n informed. 

“ I know. You did it to protect your precious Five and your sibling in-laws. What brilliant timing of mine. “ She boasted inconspicuously, “ Ah, so that was your plan. Get me at a moment where I’d willingly let you have me. So smart. “ Y/n rolled her eyes as the sarcastic comment rolled off her tongue. 

The Handler winked at her, causing her to scoff again. Getting kidnapped wasn’t necessarily on her to-do list, but Five needed time, and she couldn’t let his siblings get hurt. Truthfully, getting kidnapped by the Handler wasn’t torture. It was just irritating with the constant belittling comments. 

It was a tedious thing to go through. Five wasn’t around when she did it. Otherwise, the Handler would’ve been shot dead by now. How she managed to come back after the barn incident, she knew not. What she did know was she was threatening her husband's siblings. 

The Handler paced with her cup of whiskey, “ What's it like? “ 

“ Pardon? “

“ What’s it like being married to him? “ The commission superior queried, “ That’s none of your concern. “ Y/n snapped. 

“ Does drinking make you sentimental? “ The Hargreeves girl narrowed her eyes, “ And for what’s it’s worth, Five and I are just fine. “ 

The Handler pondered, “ So where is he? “ 

“ Hell, if I know. I’m only here because I wasn’t letting you take Claire. “ Y/n replied, “ What is the little girl to you? “

“ Five’s niece. “ She answered, “ His pride and joy. “ 

“ Do I hear bitterness? “ The Handler teased, “ No, you don’t, you blithering idiot. “ Y/n retorted, annoyed. 

Hours went by of annoying banter that, frankly, Y/n didn’t have time for. It would only be a matter of time before Five noticed her disappearance. The last thing he needed on his mind at the moment was the reappearance of the Handler. So when the commission superior left, Y/n began her escape. 

The girl flicked a knife from her back pocket, “ You’d think for a commission superior she’d be a tad bit smarter. “ Y/n rolled her eyes as she cut off her restraints. 

Even the assassins who had kidnapped her beforehand took her knife off her. Maybe they just knew her better. Since the apocalypse, Y/n always had a knife or some form of sharp object in her back left pocket. It was something she nicked from Diego in the apocalypse. She never told Five where it came from. 

So when Diego was almost hit with one of his knives while fighting her after arriving in 2019, he was astonished. Her aim was impeccable and seamless. Possibly better than Diego’s. Nevertheless, a sharp object was always on her person. 

Running out of the motel and towards the academy was easy. All that walking she did really came in handy when needing to stay in shape. Despite being a master at her power– telekinesis, she still trained countless days. Five and her would spar. An activity that kept them together. 

Knocking on the wooden door to the academy, a nine-year-old girl opened the door, “ Auntie Y/n! “ She yelled, hugging her aunt tightly, “ Hey sweet. “ Y/n replied. 

“ So, where have you been? “ A male voice queried, making her look up, and Claire let go, “ We can talk about it later, I promise. “ Y/n replied, not wanting to talk about it in front of Claire. 

He sighed, “ Fine. “ 

“ Thanks, love. “ Y/n smiled gratefully, “ Yeah, whatever. Claire, you should go see the cookies Grace made. “ Five smiled softly at the little girl. 

“ Okay. “ Claire responded, walking away. 

Once she was out of eyesight, Five embraced his wife closely, “ I was worried. “ His voice held so much concern and love it made her heart melt, “ I tried to be fast. “ She answered. 

“ What happened? “ 

And so she explained everything. From top to bottom, she informed him on everything she learned, which wasn’t too much but enough to know for now. But when she brought up the fact she went willingly, the look in his eye was not one any person would want to cross. 

“ She threatened to take Claire. Or one of your siblings. So I went willingly. I watched her tie my hands and tie me to a chair. “ Y/n informed, “ You voluntarily decided to get kidnapped to save my family? “ Five questioned, not meeting her eyes any longer. 

She shrugged, “ Perhaps. “ 

“ You choose the right woman. “ Diego announced from the steps, and Five had a prideful smile present, “ Don’t get too full of yourself, Hargreeves. “ Y/n replied, playfully walking away towards the kitchen. 

“ What's it like? “ Diego questioned his brother, “ Excuse me? “ Five responded. 

Diego turned to look at Y/n and Claire in the kitchen, “ What’s it like being married to her? “ 

“ Well, it’s- “ Five couldn’t find the right words, “ It’s like coffee. “ 

“ The meaning is? “ Number two inquired, “ Well, some days it’s like hot and cold others it could be warm. It depends on the day and how the person feels. “ Five answered. 

It was silent for a minute as Five watched Y/n happily talk with Claire about something. She looked absolutely stunning. Her eyes shined as Claire spoke passionately about the topic. Maybe that’s why she liked Y/n so much, because she listened to her no matter the subject. 

Diego swallowed, “ Do you want kids? “

The question took Five a long moment to ponder. He wasn’t expecting that question in the slightest. Sometimes he forgets that he’s already lived his life and is still mentally sixty-three. Sometimes he prefers to act like an actual eighteen-year-old. 

“ Someday. “ 

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on. 

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish. 

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy. 

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands). 

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding. 

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.” 

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all. 

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t. 

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world. 

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about. 

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease. 

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do. 

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind. 

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.” 

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused. 

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves. 

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop. 

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening. 

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[justauthoring]

Precious To Us [2]

In other words, you’re Seijoh’s manager.

This chapter, Oikawa’s fangirls.

A/N: Here it is! The second part! I had one person request an idea (thanks @minigranger) and I definitely plan on writing it soon but I love the trope of manager vs. fangirls that I can’t help myself. As usual, please send in ideas :)

Listen, Oikawa’s fangirls are mean.

They just are.

It doesn’t really matter to them that you’re a first year, if they’re supposed to be your seniors, they would probably still be bitches even if you were their seniors and in second/third year.

They seem to think Oikawa’s theirs, even though, of course, he isn’t and if asked, he definitely would deny.

And they see you as a threat.

A big, big threat.

Who gets to see Oikawa everyday? You. Who gets to see him practice every day? You. Who gets a front row to seat to every one of his games? You. And who does he flirt with? You.

It doesn’t matter if you reciprocate the flirting or not -- which of course, you don’t -- they’re jealous and they blame it all on you.

Honestly, the first month of managing is fine. 

Now that you know who Oikawa is and you’re around him more, you do notice the fangirls, but they don’t really bother you and you’re too focused trying to learn the ropes to really care about their constant presence. 

You know you’ve heard some of the other members, namely the third years, complain about them.

About how annoying and distracting they were when it came to practice, or just the mere fact that Oikawa seemed to revel in the attention and love.

You’ve heard them, but you don’t really say anything otherwise because they’ve never done anything to you so you don’t really care either or.

Besides, even if you do think it’s tad bit pathetic, you can’t deny they’re devoted and you guess, in some ways... good for them?

But when you don’t stop being manager, and the rest of the team, namely Oikawa, don’t get sick of you like they all expect them to, and a month passes and you seem to just be thriving, getting a long with everyone, and finally getting the hang of everything?

That’s when they attack.

You’re already late.

And even if you know none of the boys or even the coaches will be upset with you, you do like to be punctual and you absolutely hate being late. So, you’re rushing, practically sprinting through the halls as you try to gather your bearings and organize everything you need to.

You’re already thinking of what drills Oikawa will have the team do, and what you can do to help. Maybe you could bring up some of the notes you’ve made? You’re not a hundred percent on the terms, but Iwaizumi has been helping you, and you’re sure you’ve picked up on a few of the techniques and things you think the boys could improve on.

You didn’t want them to think you’re imposing, but this was the job of the manager wasn’t it? They always reminded you you were more then just a water girl, and that they greatly appreciated anything advice you had for them from an outsider point of view, so maybe--

Landing with a loud thud, a groan leaves your lips as you feel your chin smack against the concrete floor beneath you. It takes you a second to gather your bearings, baffled at how you were suddenly on the ground, and trying to ignore the pain at having bitten your own tongue. But the second you hear laughter, you realized exactly what had happened and your head turns around to stare at the three girls stood above you in bafflement.

They’re laughing at you, quite loudly and obvious mocking you, but your eyes narrow in bafflement when you realize you’re positive you’ve seen them before. You just can’t place your thumb on it. They’re not in your class, one of them doesn’t even seem to be in your year, and you don’t think you’d remember some random face you’d passed in the hall, so--

That’s right. You’ve seen them hanging around Oikawa before, and the one older girl had even snuck into practice one day.

Slowly pushing yourself to your feet, you move to gather your stuff, only for it to be kicked out of your grasp.

“What the--!”

“Listen.”

You blink when the older one, clearly the leader or whatever, is suddenly directly before you, barely a breaths away, glaring down at you.

“You need to quit being manager for Oikawa-san’s volleyball team.”

And your eyes widen, baffled, lips parting as you shake your head; “I don’t--”

“I think you perfectly understand,” the girl behind her sneers, eyes cold.

“We don’t like how close you were with Oikawa-san.”

“And we’re sure Oikawa-san’s sick of seeing your ugly face every day.”

You’re stunned silent. Honestly, you’re not really sure what to say.

“We’ll give you till the end of the week,” the head girl smiles, but it’s a sickly sweet, filling you with dread. “Okay?”

She doesn’t wait for you to respond before her and the other two are walking off, clearly proud of themselves if they way they walk and hold themselves is anything to go by.

It’s takes you five minutes to gather yourself before you start making your way to the gym again for practice.

Part of you wants to just skip and go home but you know the boys would be concerned, more then they probably already are given how late you are, and really, it would just cause more issues in the end anyways.

Besides, you’re never one to skip anyways.

You don’t cry. You’re not really sure why because you definitely want to, but the tears never come and then you’re suddenly in the gym and everyone's rushing towards you in concern, questions leaving their lips rapidly as to why you were so late.

You brush them off, and it almost works, before Iwaizumi takes notice of the dried blood on the corner of your lip that you’d regrettably missed when cleaning yourself up earlier and the scrape underneath your chin.

“What happened to your chin, Y/N? You’re bleeding.”

He steps towards you, but you brush him off.

“I just tripped is all. Bit my tongue.”

You smile and hope it’s enough to convince them, but even if Iwaizumi looks like he wants to argue, Oikawa’s already pulling him back onto the court.

“You’re so clumsy, Y/N-chan! You really do need to be more careful!”

Some of the boys laugh and you do too, forcing yourself to pretend like everything’s fine even though you can physically feel yourself shaking.

But even as he’s being dragged away, Iwaizumi is still eyeing you and you don’t let him grow anymore suspicious then you can tell he is. You send him a soft smile, and then turn, making your way over to the coach to see where you can help for the day.

And it continues on like that for week. 

By the next day, every seems to have forgotten you being late and only Makki makes a teasing comment about the cat themed bandaid on your chin to which you begrudgingly shove him away with a shrill “it’s the only ones we have!” and you seem more like yourself then you had the day before that by the second day, even Iwaizumi has relaxed.

By the end of the week, even he seems to have forgotten about it.

But you haven’t. 

And it being the end of the week has you scared.

Kindaichi seems to notice your weird behaviour in class, especially now that the two of you tend to stick together now that you’re acquainted. But you brush him off every time he asks, saying you just felt ill.

He seems to believe it fine.

Luckily for you, nothing happens.

You’re on edge all day expecting something to happen, but nothing ever does.

Aiko, the third year and clear ring leader of that little group, never approaches you. In fact, you don’t see her once all day, which that in itself isn’t odd since you’re in different years, but you had expected to see her lackies -- either Makoto, a first year like you, or even Nami, a second year.

But you don’t.

By the final bell, you’re relieved.

It was just a mindless threat. It didn’t mean anything clearly, and they had just been poking fun, and honestly you were fine with that -- so long as you didn’t have to deal with them again.

You’d just have to be more wary of the fangirls. Maybe they weren’t as kind as you thought you were, and clearly they thought you posed some kind of threat (even though you definitely didn’t) so you’d just keep it in mind and--

“I’m pretty sure we told you by the end of the week.”

It’s a harsh thud, you don’t fall to the ground like you did last time, but you do thud against the lockers which dig painfully into your back. And regrettably you let a small cry in response, which pales in comparison to the cry of pain that leaves your lips when one of them grab a chunk of your hair and tug, hard.

Pushing at the hands that grab at you, you spin, not surprise to see the same three as before, sneering down at you.

Aiko spits down at you. “Clearly you didn’t listen.”

“I’m not gonna just quit,” you whisper, feigning the confidence to speak up for yourself. Your eyes narrow up at her, even though your heart is racing madly against you chest, and shake your head adamantly. “I love managing the volleyball team, and it’s not even because of Oikawa-senpai! I love being will all the boys, and I won’t let you--!”

“You really are just a slut.”

You’re stunned silent, lips left parted.

“Listen, I gave you a week, you didn’t listen.” Aiko scoffs, shaking her head as she brushes her hair back, glaring down at you. “I’ll show you what happens when I don’t get my way.”

She strikes you hard, across the cheek, and naively, you think that’s it. You can handle some punches and kicks, because you really don’t want to give up the one thing that’s made you happy for the first time in a long time. Even as the hits continue, and your body starts to ache, you think,

I can handle this.

But still, you end up skipping practice that day. You blame it on the fact the fact that you just didn’t want to have to explain why you looked so battered and messed up, knowing this time no amount of lying was going to get you out of this one. Because, really, it wouldn’t just be Iwaizumi suspicious this time -- all the boys will be, and then they’ll probably talk to the coach and...

and, it’s just to much a fuss for you. So, you skip, sending a text to Oikawa explaining that you weren’t feeling well and you’d be back Monday and to please apologize on the coaches behalf for you.

But you don’t go back the next day.

When you open your locker the next Monday, your homework that you’d finished during lunch to previous day to get a head start is ruined. Completely and wholeheartedly ruined.

And when you glance around, the first thing you see is Makoto from across the hallway, smirking at you.

But you don’t have any proof.

So, you suck back the tears that threaten to fall, and sulk to your first class where you know the teacher will be less then pleased.

And of course she isn’t, but she simply sighs and tells you that if you don’t have it in by tomorrow, she’ll have to give you a failing grade. 

Embarrassed and upset, you walk to your seat, ignoring Kindaichi’s watchful gaze as you sink into your seat.

But it only gets worse from there.

The second class starts, a note is tossed onto your desk.

You eye, confused, glancing around for who threw it, only for everyone to be faced forward, before glancing briefly at Kindaichi’s whose watching your curiously.

Slowly, you open it.

Is it true you actually slept with all of the volleyball team?

Laughter echoes, but when you look up, there’s three girls staring at you, all mockingly.

Kindaichi leans forward, trying to grab the note but you pull it from his grasp, avoiding his gaze.

He cannot see that.

And when the class ends, you narrowly avoid Kindaichi who calls for you, rushing out of the class, only for someone to bump into you the second you make it out, shoving harshly into your shoulder.

“Slut.” The voice sneers.

Your lips part, and you glance up, feeling your vision blur, but when you glance around, you suddenly notice the looks everyone’s giving you, and the way they laugh and sneer at you.

But what really makes you break is when you turn, feeling like everyone’s against you, and find Kindaichi staring at you with parted lips, obviously confused, and you just can’t hold it back then, turning without another word, and running off.

The day continues like that, and after lunch, which you spent alone hidden in a bathroom stall, you see Iwaizumi and Oikawa ahead of you, smiling when they notice you.

They look as if they want to talk, but you know then you absolutely cannot like that happen, for multiple reasons, so you turn around quickly, running off in the opposite direction despite the way they call after you.

You don’t go back to practice like you said you would.

And neither do you Tuesday.

When Wednesday rolls around, and every laughs at you when you walk pass them in the halls, or sneers at you, or looks at you like you’re the most disgusting thing, you go to the office when you realize you can’t handle this any longer.

No matter how much you love being on the team and managing the boys. 

Little do you know, in class, Kindaichi notices the odd coloured paper in your hands and curiously, maybe even worriedly (because there’s a sinking feeling in his gut) peers over your shoulder as subtle as he can, lips parting when he reads the header.

Permission to quite a club form.

“I think Y/N’s going to quite the team.”

It’s the first words he says when he enters the club room that day, and it makes everybody pause.

Silence echoes, and slowly, unsurely, Yahaba shakes his head; “what-what are you talking about, Kindaichi? I thought Y/N said she just wasn’t feeling well, which is why--”

“I saw the form this morning,” Kindaichi shakes his head, “I know what I read.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “Y/N would’ve talked to us first if something was upsetting her. She wouldn’t just--”

“Haven’t you guys heard the rumours going around?”

It’s Kunimi who speaks this time, his voice the similar drawl it always is, but if you look at him close enough, it’s easy to tell that he’s concerned. Upset even. And he looks disgusted as he speaks, eyeing Kindaichi first, almost knowingly, before turning to the other boys.

Iwaizumi’s brows furrow; “what are you talk--”

“I think someone’s been bullying her,” Kindaichi frowns. “It started at the beginning of the week. Y/N came in with her homework ruined, which I thought was weird, because she always is so careful with her work and makes sure it’s done early. And then someone tossed this note onto her desk but she wouldn’t let me read it, and she wouldn’t talk to me or even look at me all class. Then, when class was over, people were... well--”

“There’s a rumour going around that’s she’s slept with all of us.”

It’s Kunimi who finishes it, Kindaichi’s face beet red, which quite a few of the boys mimic seconds later when Kunimi finishes.

But Oikawa? Oikawa just looks pissed.

“What?”

Kindaichi blanches, looking absolutely terrified; “I thought you knew! I didn’t--”

Oikawa storms past him, Iwaizumi quick to follow, and then Mattsun and Makki are right behind them. The first and second years glance at each other, before slowly following them, and sure enough the third years are heading straight for the gym, to which none of them are surprised to find you there, a form in your shaky hands as you stare at Coach Mizoguchi.

You turn to them with wide eyes, clearly having hoped to finish before any of the boys started practice. But Mizoguchi looks relieved. “Thank God you boys are here,” he breathes, standing up to which you try to stop him, but he isn’t listening, “Y/N wants to quit, but I really think she should talk to you first,” he’s looking directly at Oikawa, “she won’t tell me why. And please Y/N,” he turns to you, “I think you should reconsider.”

“We’ll talk to her,” Oikawa cuts in, voice oddly low before you can say anything.

Mizoguchi smiles, nodding at you before making his way over the gym obviously in search of Irihata. Instantly the tension thickens when you’re left alone with all eyes directly and solely on you.

It takes a second to find the words. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to any of you about it, but I...” And your voice falters, even you can’t help the way your voice quivers. “I think it’s best if I just quit.”

“You’re not quitting.” It’s Iwaizumi who speaks this time, and his voice is so firm, so sure, even if you’re not sure how to argue against it.

“But I-I--”

“You don’t need to quite,” Oikawa shakes his head, stepping towards you and pulling the form from your grasp with ease. You watch with parted lips as he simply rips it right in front of you, tossing it aside without much care, before glancing back at the rest, namely the other third years, turning back to you. “Now, tell us, who told you you had to quit?”

And your eyes bulge. How did he--

“Kindaichi and Kunimi told us about everything,” Iwaizumi starts, moving towards you, as your eyes fall to the first years, watching the way they both, even Kunimi, stare after you in concern. “We know someone’s been bothering you, so, just tell us.”

“We’ll help you,” Watari adds with a smile, hesitantly speaking up.

And you pause, unsure. But then you stare at them all watching you carefully, and see how all of them care so much, more then you ever thought they did and you’re reminded of why you’d refused to quit in the first place. Reminded of how much you love managing the volleyball team and no matter how much you were scared and hurt, you didn’t want to lose it all.

Lose them.

“It’s... It’s a few, three actually, of Oikawa-senpai’s fangirls,” you mumble, voice low, head turned downwards. “They... They don’t like how much time I spend with him, so they... they told me to quit and when I refused, they...” You don’t need to finish.

There’s a pause, before a slap echoes. 

“Somehow I knew this was your fault, Shittykawa.”

“Ow!” Oikawa cries, “Iwa-chan, it’s not like I...” But he seems to pause, lips parting as he glances down at you, his heart breaking slightly at the tears in your eyes.

Stepping forward, he pulls you into a hug, and you let him; “I’m sorry, Y/N-chan, I didn’t know they were hurting you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is,” Mattsun comments, stepping forward as he smiles down at you, ruffling your hair. “It’s easier to blame him anyways.”

“I agree,” Makki laughs.

And even you find yourself laughing lightly.

“Really, Y/N-chan? Even you too?”

“Sorry.”

Then, everyone turns serious; “I’ll talk to them,” Oikawa frowns. “What they did isn’t okay. I won’t let them get away with it. They’ll never bother you again, Y/N.”

And you’re surprised by how serious he is.

But things do get better.

Aiko never bothers you again, nor does any other one of Oikawa’s fangirls.

Oikawa even makes her apologize, and even you have to admit the absolute mortification on her face makes everything a lot better.

The boys try to stop the rumour, but it’s easier said then done, though, the fame of it all does dwindle and you’re not snided in the hallways so much anymore.

It’s kind of hard to when you usually have one of the third years walking you to and from class anyways.

Besides, they’re your friends, and even if everyone else hates you, they don’t.

And that’s all that matters to you.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half-Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Part 2!

Part 1 Lessons 1-5 Lessons 5-6 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

Okay, They’re Your Cousins but You’re Not Sure How They’re Related to You...

(Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke)

(It’s mostly Luke)

Barbs likes smol Lucifer. Smol Lucifer likes Barbs. They bake together with Luke. MC nearly set the kitchen on fire. MC needed to learn to cook.

MC is forever delegated to mixing duty because they refuse to admit that they don’t know how to work the oven.

Simeon is the one telling MC embarrassing stories about Lucifer and the rest of the Student Council from when they were all angels. Lucifer never hated Simeon more than when he found out that Simeon told MC about how hard Lucifer cried when he got to hold baby Mammon for the first time. MC was sworn to secrecy.

Well... sworn to secrecy, but if Uncle Mammon just happened to find out through a series of coincidences it wouldn’t be MC’s fault, right?

Simeon also tried to help teach MC to fly... but he kept distracting them with stories about Lucifer and Michael learning to fly.

“So my father was even WORSE than he told me he was?!”

“Yes, he actually challenged Michael and Raphael to a race at one point. Lucifer ended up slamming directly into a wall because he didn’t know how to stop.”

“SIMEON!”

Solomon was absolutely fascinated with MC. How did their half demon half human nature affect their reaction to certain spells and potions? Do half demons have more or less magical strength than normal demons? Can half demons make pacts with humans? Wait- Lucifer why are you taking MC away they were talking- Lucifer!

Immortal troll needs to troll. MC is the unwitting victim of many of Solomon’s shenanigans.

“Why must I speak in rhymes?! This is the end of times!”

“MC, just stop talking.”

“Father, I don’t mean to be a bother but-”

“So the rhyming spell works the same on half demons... interesting...”

“Solomon...”

“I’m leaving, Lucifer. I’m leaving!”

Aw! Two kids in the Devildom! They were fast friends. Sure, Luke was a little annoying and MC was a bit of a dick, but their mutual smallness and desire to impress their parental figures brought them together.

“Michael’s just so cool and amazing! The way he flies, the way he commands everyone... I want to be just like him someday!”

“Is that why you’re making a cake?”

“Michael has a sweet tooth, and I want to impress him.”

“I wonder if Lucifer likes sweets...”

“Why would you want to give HIM sweets?”

MC just gave Luke a toothy grin and started making the dough for the cake.

Remember back in Lucifer’s section where I said MC would keep their lineage a secret to freak people out? Yeah... they kept it from Luke. At first it was a joke! They were going to tell him! They just uh... it got really awkward. They planned on revealing it to Luke right after they learned how to properly fly so they could swoop in, pick their angel buddy up and zip the two of them to school. It’d freak Luke out at first, but it was meant to be funny! MC would have even sung the song from Aladdin! It um... didn’t turn out that way.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” MC growled at the lesser demons that were crowding Luke.

“O-oh... uh... nuh-nothing...” a few of the demons backed off, mumbling a few harried apologies to MC as they scurried away. The remaining demons seemed a tad more... hmm... they say there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity.

“M-MC! You can’t fight demons! I’m an angel I-I c-can...” Luke sniffled, but tried his best to step in front of MC.

“Oh please, the little half-breed and the lowest ranked angel are going to put up a fight?” One of the demons jeered, a few of the remaining demons joined in.

MC’s eyes narrowed, their glare as cold as the worst winter storm. “I’m going to tell you once, and once only,”

Their wings sprouted from their back, horns now fully grown and on display, teeth sharper and glistening in the light. Hm, it seemed half demons could make their eyes glow too, how delightful.

MC gave the other demons a sweet smile, it would have been comforting if it weren’t for the amount of teeth they were showing off. They lazily placed their hand on Luke’s head and lightly moved him out of the way.

“Leave, or I will make you regret ever crossing us exchange students.” MC’s carefree smile couldn’t mask the malice that coated every single word that left their lips. “Run along now, you’re not needed here.”

The demon that had started the taunts stiffened, he looked from MC, to Luke, to the other demons, before scoffing and shaking his head. “Whatever, the two of them aren’t worth it anyway...”

When the offending demons weren’t leaving fast enough for MC’s liking, they snapped their fingers and shot a fireball right behind the fleeing demons’ feet. They cleared out pretty quickly after that.

“Luke?” MC turned to look at their friend. “Are you...”

Luke was backing away. That look in his eyes, he was... scared. Scared of MC...

“Y-you’re a d-demon?” He whimpered, taking another step back.

“Half demon, actually.” MC let their demonic elements disappear. “I meant to tell you, I really did! It just was never the right time-”

“You lied to me! You said you were human! But you’re a demon like the rest of them!” Luke shouted, he wiped at his eye with his sleeve and sniffled. “I tried to help you, but you just..! I thought you were my friend!”

“Luke- hang on!” MC took a few steps forward, but Luke was already running away. MC felt something twist in their gut, something awful. That ball of innate pride twisted and practically screamed, filling MC’s head.

“He’s not worth it!”

“You’re above him anyway...”

“If he can’t understand how perfect you are, he doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

“Don’t grovel for his forgiveness. He’s beneath you.”

“Your help was rejected. Let him hate you. You’re the child of one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, who is he to make you upset?”

The thoughts filled MC’s head as they desperately tried to shut them up. They were their father’s child, their pride wouldn’t be easily combated.

“Just be quiet!” MC clawed at their head.

“You’re better than this. You’re better than this. You’re better than this-”

“Luke!” MC called out again. “I’m sorry!”

It truly was a shame that their friend didn’t understand how much an apology from MC really meant.

They guessed Luke was right, wasn’t he? Demons were nasty awful liars. MC was no different...

That hurt.

Lucifer noticed his kid was moping around, not even Detective Toe Beans could cheer them up. Mammon even came home covered in mud from a failed money-making scheme and it didn’t even make MC crack a smile! He needed to get to the bottom of this.

Upon hearing the reason for his child’s woes, he was fully ready to break down the door of Purgatory Hall and throttle the little chihuahua, but Lucifer came to his senses and realized that MC probably didn’t want that.

He teamed up with Simeon and Solomon the things he did for MC... And managed to get both Luke and MC to the Demon Lord’s Castle to hang out with Barbatos.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Luke missed his friend too. Sure they called him a chihuahua sometimes, but they were still the bestest friend he had made during his time in the exchange program... maybe ever...

Maybe... just maybe... he overreacted. MC did protect him after all, and they never tried to hurt him...

Barbatos was fully ready to fulfill his role as Luke’s second dad and help his angel-son make up with his friend.

It may have been awkward at first, but the two had to join forces to stop Solomon from getting within a hundred metres of the kitchen. Nothing brings two people back together more than fear for your tastebuds.

Mission success. Lucifer could relax knowing that his kid and the chihuahua were back to being friends. Maybe MC could convince Luke to quiet his infernal yapping... Lucifer was trying to work here!

For some extra fluff, after many days of asking and asking, Lucifer and Simeon agree to take Luke and MC up to the human world for Halloween. They got to go trick or treating, and everyone complimented MC and Luke on their ‘costumes��.

*insert sitcom laugh track here*

Sure, it may have been a little immoral for MC to use their powers to manipulate the humans into giving Luke and MC more candy but... candy...

Oh shit would you look at the time- they had to get back to the Devildom for Diavolo’s birthday party- MC STOP WITH THE CHOCOLATE! THE SIGN SAYS TAKE ONE! DON’T BE LIKE MAMMON.

The exchange year had been a success. Well... sort of. MC wasn’t exactly the average Joe human the Student Council expected, which is why after a lengthy break where MC went back to the human world to visit their other parent and human friends, the seven rulers of Hell (+MC) were sitting and waiting for the new exchange students to arrive.

Unlike the previous year, the entire student council was present. That included Levi who they had to physically drag there, Belphie who was carried there and had to be placed in his seat because he was completely passed out, and finally Mammon, he just had to be threatened.

“Father,” MC pouted from their seat next to Lucifer. “Why isn’t my chair as big as yours?”

Lucifer sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Because you’re much shorter than me. You can have a bigger chair when you grow a few more inches.”

“Mmm...” MC murmured, crossing their arms. “Are the students going to get here, or what?”

“Can you be patient?” Lucifer asked. “They’ll be here any moment now. I can trust that you’ll behave, right?”

MC looked scandalized, placing a hand over their heart and gasping. “Father! Of course! I’ll be the most polite person these humans have ever met!”

Not so deep down, Lucifer severely doubted that.

“Come now, Lucifer and MC!” Diavolo said from his elevated seat. “It’s almost eight am!”

Right on schedule the portal opened, two sets of screams followed.

“The next big priority should be making the trip more comfortable.” MC huffed. “It’s demeaning getting dropped straight down like that and just slamming into the floor.”

“Hm.” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Perhaps instead we can just teleport them up to the Celestial Realm, start a war, and have them crash through not one, not two, but all three barriers between the realms with no portal.”

“Father...” MC matched Lucifer’s eye roll. “That has the same energy as ‘when I was your age I walked to school 100 miles through a blizzard!’ The polite thing to do for the exchange students is to not let them hit the floor at 100 mph and possibly give them a concussion.”

And slam straight onto the floor the two other exchange students did. Well, one of them slammed right into the marble, the other had tried in vain to use their wings to slow their decent or fly back up.

Wait...

WINGS?!

WAIT THE OTHER HAD HORNS?!

THEY BOTH HAD-

Oh and would you look at that... one looked like... and the other looked like-

Shitballs.

Lucifer had to keep himself from actually shouting in frustration. One normal day... one day of no exchange student issues was all he asked for...

“Out of over ten million candidates out of over eight billion humans...” Lucifer grumbled. “How in my father’s name did this happen again?”

(OOOOOOOOOO SEQUEL BAIT!)

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Idk if you did this already, but how would the Era IV ghouls react if their S/O brings multiple kittens home all of the sudden? Let's say around 3 or 4 kittens at once.

I have not done this, but I absolutely have to. This is both sickeningly adorable and hilarious! XD

Era IV Ghouls When Their S/O Brings Home a Litter of Kittens

Rain: He's absolutely ecstatic! Rain is a ghoul who is very soft for animals, and has been asking Papa IV for a pet since he joined the band. Which was never granted, because the band is far too busy to take care of any animal without just giving it to the siblings on staff. Rain is immediately on the bed trying to play with the kittens. The water ghoul wants to help name them and pick out little collars and keep them happy and fed, so he's an eager pet-dad! His only concern is convincing Papa to let you both keep all your new babies. But who can say no when Rain has always been a hard working and responsible ghoul?

Ember: At first he's super annoyed and a tad pissed. Seriously- FOUR KITTENS? Without even ASKING how HE feels about it? He's super grumpy and tells you to get rid of the little fleabags. You are used to him being a bit annoyed but you tell the ghoul if the kittens go, you go. Ember relents and insists he won't have anything to do with the cats. But that slowly changes. He'll never admit how much he comes to love all of the cats. Ember will grumpily cuddle with them and let them sleep on him, because he's so warm. He ends up getting protective of them, even from you! Ember even tries to name them much to you yelling he didn't even want them! Becomes the softest cat dad, but will punch anyone who points it out.

Swiss: Let's be honest with ourselves, he is the one who HELPED you bring home the kitties. You were both walking around the clergy grounds when you found a scared and abandoned litter. After discerning there was no mother cat to be found you both immediately scooped up the four precious cats. The plan was for you to keep all of them until you were found out. With a lot of fast talking you convinced the rest of the band and Papa IV to let you keep them all. The only down side is instead of the kittens being YOUR cats, they become the BAND'S cats. Needless to say, you have four super spoiled and pampered kitties running around the band ghoul wing.

Cirrus: Admittedly, Cirrus was not the happiest with you when she walked in to find you covered in furry masses. Not so much because she hates cats or animals, but because you did something without talking to her first. The keyboardist really values communication in your relationship, and this feels like a big change to make on impulse. Cirrus tells you she REALLY wishes you would have consulted her first if you really wanted a pet, because at least you could pick one out together. Or you know, at least WARN her first. You feel a bit ashamed and stand to take the kittens back before she stops you. When you tell her you are sorry and you are going to return the kittens she looks shocked. "I said warn me first, not get rid of them! they already like it here!!" You've never seen her so sweetly talk to any living being on the planet like she does to the new babies.

Cumulus: A part of you was expecting the air ghoulette to be mad at your impulse purchase. But she patiently listens as you tell her how you only wanted to rescue ONE kitty, but the one you wanted had a whole family. Cumulus is quiet for a moment as she thinks, and you're expecting her to tell you to take them back. But you gawk when she picks up the fluffiest one in the bunch and smiles at you. "Ok love, if you think you can take care of all of them... this one is mine though." She kisses her new kitten as you squawk that they are all YOURS. "No, this one is the cutest and she's mine!" Fair enough. At least you all get to have your cute little furry family.

Mountain: The drummer is both curious and a tad indifferent. When he walks into your room and is met with tiny 'meows' he just stops dead in his tracks. He's no stranger to Earth animals, but this is really the first time he's gotten to hold and interact with a cat this close. Normally they aren't fond of ghouls at first. He sits down and lets the babies climb all over him as you tell him how you found them being given away on the side of the road. He agrees- there was no WAY you could just let these precious little ones sit there! Mountain finds himself incredibly fond of the kittens, and tells you how they remind him of Hellcats back home. "Just tinier and they actually let you pet them!"

Aether: The guitarist ghoul wants to immediately melt and hold all of the kitties. He's known as a gentle giant for a reason. But, Aether is also incredibly responsible. He sits down with you and tells you as much as it is going to suck, you both need to let the others know. Especially Papa and the housing staff so they aren't blind sided by the sudden litter. You beg and beg him, but he doesn't want you to stress about having to hide all the kitties from everyone. You're grateful he convinced you to come clean, as Copia was happy to let you keep the cats... so long as you kept them away from HIS pets. You'd be lying if you said you didn't almost regret it, as Aether tends to hog all the cats for himself! "They like napping with me!" he always protests.

[alienaiver]

Some Seijoh boys and their first kiss (with you); pt. 2!

PREV. with nekoma!

Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa!

warnings: none

wordcount: 1,123

content: first kisses part two!, FLUFF, gender-neutral reader, pre-timeskip, high school

notes: the other one ended up really popular i think so im… here again hehe! This time with the aoba johsai boiiis!!! I didnt have as much time as I liked so theres only three boys this time :’( tho I think these are a tad longer than the previous one! I hope you enjoy <3

Iwaizumi Hajime

Iwaizumi and you had been dating for several months now, and he was still overwhelmed by the fact that you even liked him back. He had to admit that he really wanted to try and kiss you, since your lips always looked so soft and plush and he’d spent an ungodly amount of time thinking about it – way harder than any other guy would. Last week he had almost kissed you but panicked a few seconds before his lips met yours, raising a hand to your hair and coughing, “uh, there was a horn beetle in your hair, I just removed it…” he’d explained in the lamest way possible and you had looked at him with a puzzled look and said, “so you leaned down… with your eyes closed… to remove it? Also, Hajime, a horn beetle?” to which he ever so politely had replied “shut up” and turned to walk next to you again on the way home. You didn’t miss how brightly red his ears were burning however, having an inkling as to what it was your boyfriend had truly been trying to do. Today they had a practice match against Karasuno and you had promised to be there for support, always enjoying watching him on the field, with his big strong arms and determined look.

It had been a tough match, Karasuno fighting tooth and neck so when Aoba Johsai ended up winning, everyone was in a shocked kind of state, not really processing it yet but you and the rest of the team members on the sidelines noticed and ran towards them to congratulate them. Iwaizumi immediately spotted you after realizing what happened and picked you up and spun you around, to which you couldn’t help but squeal. As you look around you spot Oikawa giving you a thumbs up so you smile brightly and let your hand caress Iwaizumi’s cheeks before leaning down and giving him a kiss on the lips. Iwaizumi lets out a surprised grunt and almost drops you on the spot before gripping you tighter than before and kissing you back. In the background you heard whistling which in turn actually makes Iwaizumi drop you.

“Do you… uh, do you wanna go home together, after all this?” he looked at the ground with his beet-red face. You smiled and said, “Hajime, we had already planned to do that.”

Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa adored you, and he never wanted you to feel anything less than perfect so it was a given that after you two started going out, he started planning. On your one-month anniversary, he was going to take you on an absolutely amazing and thoroughly planned date and, if nothing had been done from your end of the court yet, he was going to end it with your first kiss. He picked you up at 9AM sharp and took you to the amusement park where even your park rides were minutely planned before you went to a fancy cafe to eat lunch. As you were about to go to the local art museum after lunch you tripped on some crooked sidewalk tiles and sprained your ankle, Oikawa insisted you go to the hospital to get it checked out and even went with you. As you sat in the waiting room, 2 hours into waiting for an available doctor, Oikawa sneaked an arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry I ruined our date, Tooru,” you sighed but he just looked at you with the most lovable gaze you’d ever seen before leaning in and leaving a peck on your lips, “darling, nothing’s ruined. We’re still together, right?” before dramatically picking up a random magazine and reading aloud for you. He mostly did it to hide his own blush but hearing you laugh at his antics made it all the more worth it.

Today you were hanging out together with Hanamaki at his place, playing Mario Kart together, where both Matsukawa and Hanamaki had teased you endlessly about your bad driving skills, “aw, you got in as number 12. You got the highest number!” Hanamaki had laughed out as he patted your back. You were pouting so much, determined to win at least one round against them when Hanamaki called for a break and went out to grab some snacks for you. As you tried to explain to Matsukawa that it had to do with your controller, that the fault wasn’t yours, all the while pouting like a little child, Matsukawa smiled and asked, “how can I make it up to you? While your pouting face is adorable, I’d like to see you smile more,” an arm reaching out to pat your shoulder in a weird supportive kind of move. Matsukawa half expected you to say something like his part of the snacks, a soda tomorrow at the convenience store or to let you win, he looked at you quizzically when you looked away from him shyly and mumbled, “you could.. kiss me if you… you know, want to?”

Matsukawa Issei

Matsukawa wasn’t a guy used to romantic relationships. The only ones he ever truly noticed were his captain’s and romance didn’t really come easy to him and wasn’t necessarily a priority. Until you had transferred to his class and rocked his world. He had fallen head over heels for you from day one and if it hadn’t been for Hanamaki’s annoying (but helpful, he had to admit) meddling, he probably couldn’t call himself your boyfriend now. He always acted extremely nonchalant and chill around you – which he thought wasn’t too out of character for his laid back personality but even he had to admit it was getting ridiculous but he also thought his own excitement for your relationship would completely scare you off, no one liked an overly clingy partner, right? That’s what he rationalized. He had recently admitted to himself how badly he wanted to kiss you but at the same time he suppressed it, since your first hand-holding a few days ago had gone completely wrong. His hands had been so sweaty because he was nervous that he didn’t dare to grab your hand again, in case you would dump him for having sweaty hands – what he didn’t know was that half of that sweat? Was yours – you had been so incredibly nervous as well and sweated buckets too, he had just been too caught up in his own embarrassment to notice.

The cuteness you oozed right now almost gave him a heart attack and he almost got whiplash from how fast his upper body moved to give you a kiss, lingering a little bit longer and leaning in for a second kiss, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

[gayacademicwriter]

a snippet | blind date | hero x villain

trigger warning: alcohol, joking talk of throwing people/themselves out windows

The sidekick sighed as they hurried into the restaurant. The villain’s aide was already waiting in the booth, hunched over a glass of something. The sidekick nudged them with a slightly painful look in their eyes. The aide raised an eyebrow. 

“Rough day?”

“You would not believe,” the sidekick groaned, flagging a waitress, “how many times the hero talked about the villain today.” 

The aide scoffed. “Can’t possibly be more than the number of times the villain talked about the hero today. It’s insufferable, and not even because it’s about the hero. If I had to hear about anybody that many times a day I would be overcome by the urge to throw the person talking about them out the window.” 

“I’ll bet on that,” the sidekick answered, their drink sliding onto the table as the waitress left to serve another table. “Whoever’s number is higher buys the next round.” 

“You’re on. Thirty-two.”

“Forty-six,” the sidekick said with a grin. 

“Damn,” the aide muttered. “The hero really is obsessed.” 

“Thirty-two’s a pretty high number on its own. If we don’t do something about this soon I think I might actually go insane.”

“As if you weren’t insane taking on the role of sidekick. The hero has to have some pretty crazy work hours.” 

“Yeah, well... my sleep schedule is pretty flexible. I manage.” 

“There has to be a way we can set them up.” 

“That won’t incriminate us?” The sidekick countered.

“Oh, absolutely. The villain loves this one restaurant—the one right down the street, actually. I’ll let them know that them talking about the hero that much is absolutely agonizing, and that I’ve set up a date for them at the restaurant. The villain will probably head down there for the food more than for the date, but as long as they get their ass through the doors and at the table it’s good enough, because you’re going to get the hero to do the same and the hero is going to be sitting at the table by the time the villain gets there.”

“Bold of you to assume that I have the capacity to tell the hero that I’ve set up a blind date for them.” 

“Bold of you to assume that I care,” the aide shot back. “Besides, if it stops them talking about each other, then I’d say it’s worth the risk.” 

“I have a feeling that could backfire terribly.” 

“Well, maybe they’ll start talking to each other instead of pining over each other to us.” 

“Fair,” the sidekick admitted. “But only if we can watch from across the street, and only if you’re bringing popcorn and drinks.”

“Come on. I did all the thinking here.”

The sidekick jerked their head in the direction of the restaurant. “Or no blind date for your villain.” 

The aide rolled their eyes, downing the rest of their drink. “Fine. Done. I’ll make the reservations, let you know when it’s happening. Let the hero know in a small enough time frame that they can’t decline.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” The sidekick glanced at their watch. “I’ve got to head out soon. Apparently the villain is committing some small atrocity in some city square in forty minutes.” 

The aide rolled their eyes. “Oh, that. It’s not even an atrocity.” 

“Says the one who serves the villain with no morals.” 

“No, seriously. I left the base to get here and the villain was doing their hair. It’s going to be one of those nights.” 

“God,” the sidekick scowled, throwing back the rest of their drink, wishing they could return home thoroughly wasted so as to not hear a word the hero spoke tonight. “What d’you reckon the chances are of me getting home and the hero asking which suit they should wear?” 

“High. Tell them to wear the black one.” 

The sidekick rolled their eyes but muttered an acknowledgement. 

“I’ll let you know when. It’ll be in the next week or so.” 

The sidekick nodded, raising their glass. “To hopefully never hearing them pine again.” 

The aide toasted them. “Dear God, please.” 

—

The call came a week later. 

The night after they had schemed, the hero had indeed asked which suit they should wear. The sidekick wondered if it was a mistake to tell them to wear the black one, because they got home that night and the hero was very smug over the way the villain’s eyes had lit up when they saw them. The entire night, the sidekick wanted nothing more to throw the hero out the window. Or perhaps themselves. Anything from having to hear about the villain’s eyes again. 

“Thank God,” the sidekick whispered into the phone, having ditched the hero as they went shopping for sewing supplies. “What time?” 

“Seven,” the aide’s voice crackled over the phone in answer. “It was the earliest I could get.” 

“Not a problem. Thanks.” They clicked the phone off as the hero exited the store, humming a jaunty tune. 

“Hey, hero...” 

“Yeah?” 

“You know how you’re always talking about the villain?” 

“Yes—”

“Don’t start up again now,” the sidekick interrupted, holding up a hand to stall them. “No offence, but it has got to be one of the most unbearable things that you’ve ever talked about, so I’ve set up a blind date for you in hopes that’ll take your mind off them.” 

There was a pause. Would the hero take the bait? The sidekick crossed their fingers. 

“Well, I’ll go, I suppose, but it won’t work.” 

“Just indulge me.” 

“Only for you, sidekick. What time?”

“Tonight, at seven.” 

The hero started up their tune again. “Alright.” 

—

“The hero’s just left the apartment.” 

“Great. The villain will leave in five.”

“Perfect.” The sidekick paused. “If this doesn’t work—”

“You’ll end me, I know. I’ll see you at the café on the other side of the street at seven fifteen?”

“The one with the french doors and big windows?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Alright.” The aide clicked off the phone and returned to the living room, where the open bathroom door revealed the villain parting their hair. 

“You know this obscene plan has no chance of getting anywhere—”

“Ah, just try it out,” the aide insisted, leaning against the doorframe. “And hey, if it doesn’t go well I can listen to you complain about that instead of blabber on about the hero’s lips.”

“I do not talk about—”

The aide quelled their protest with a glare. 

“Just get ready,” the aide sighed. “You have three minutes.”

And in the meantime, they thought with a sigh, I may as well grab the drinks and popcorn the villain didn’t notice I bought two hours ago.

—

“This should be pretty interesting,” the sidekick said with a grin. “I warned the hero that their date might be a tad bit late.”

“A wise decision,” the aide acknowledged, tossing them a glass, “seeing as the villain enjoys taking their time getting ready.”

“So I figured,” the sidekick answered. 

The villain and the hero had just seen each other, faces lighting up with surprise, delight, and smirks. The aide took a deep sip and a handful of popcorn. 

“I have a feeling they’ll be chatting for awhile,” the sidekick mused. 

“I bet at least sixty percent will be flirting.”

The sidekick scoffed. “Eighty is more like it.”

The aide tilted their head as they took another swallow of their drink. “Do you think they’ll figure it out?”

The sidekick followed suit. “Oh, for sure. I just have a feeling they’ll be more thankful than annoyed about it.”

[my-writings-and-musings]

Can I please have a short story of the prompt of the human reader being used as a sheild, and the human has a communicator allowing the bots to trace their signal? And can I please have ratchet, tailgate, cyclones, and drift for this?

I have headcannons for now because I'm spread really thin lately, but I hope you like it! Also I love this prompt in particular because every bot on the ship needs to be told how special and wonderful they are, and what better way to show them than by shouting their praises at an enemy with ample swearing?

Part One: Here!

Part Two: You're Here!

Ratchet

·Your relationship to the medic had allowed some of the restraint he needed for his high stress job to rub off on you, but that's also true of his testiness, so when you reach your breaking point it's quite the sight. The bot that kidnapped you for a ransom learns the loud way just how passionately you adore your grumpy bot when they crack another joke about Ratchet's age and you simply lose it. Held back by your chains, you crack that the bot who kidnapped you couldn't accomplish what Ratchet has if they had a billion years to do so, and what right do they have to insult when they look the way they do? "Call him old all you want, he looks better now than you ever have and ever will!"

·Perhaps it's the fact that the tiny human just insulted their appearance of all things, but the bot is frozen at the communicator, and somehow that makes you angrier. It's clearer to you now than ever before why Ratchet hurls wrenches at the bots that annoy him; nothing would be more satisfying than the "thunk" of a well aimed projectile at this jerk's head. As it stands you're willing to settle for using your words as the only weapons you have. Laughing bitterly, you ask your captor if they're only able to win an argument with bots that can't fight back, which would explain why they need you as a shield AND the corpses they keep as company. The last dig actually gets them moving towards you with a threat, but when they refer to Ratchet as your "rusty old paramour" you get a renewed burst of rage and go off once more.

·"Are you seriously trying to insult Ratchet of all bots?! Do you have any idea what he's capable of?! How many lives he's saved?! What have you accomplished lately, huh?! Besides EXTORTION?!" Feeling a tad bit flushed, it's impossible not to go all out in your tirade, especially because it feels so darn good after suffering in silence for so long. It doesn't hurt that you have so much material to work with either. This raging jerk is living in a corpse filled lair and kidnapping humans to ransom them off for cash, and they're going after one of the greatest medics the Autobots ever had? Cutting them down to size should be classified as doing the universe a favor! If you weren't so incredibly frustrated, and dangling from chains, you might have found this enjoyable.

·"Seriously! Ratchet does more good for the universe in a week than you could do in a lifetime! Plus, you think age is holding him back?! The bot walks right off the battlefield after carving up bad guys like you, only to waltz into the medibay to patch up everyone else, on a daily basis!" Though not impressed, it does appear that your captor is rethinking some things, and perhaps actually realizing they've made a pretty formidable enemy. Had that not been such a flagrantly obvious fact you'd have been satisfied. Instead you just keep going, your intense love for your docbot mingling with your frustration to pour forth in a never-ending stream of loving threats. Only a total power outage cuts off a tangent about how Ratchet's age has not impacted his ability or endurance in "other areas" of your relationship either...

·The darkness is broken by flashing lights and the crackle of energy weapons firing all around, and you just manage to catch some familiar colors flashing through the dark before a very welcome red and white frame swoops in to carefully slice you out of the chains with a laser scalpel. There's just enough time to catch a smile overflowing with emotion before you're taken into gentle hands, and as Ratchet takes you back to the ship you get a glimpse of your very roughed up kidnapper being cuffed by the remaining crew. Your partner takes you straight to the medical bay, fussing over you all the way and asking a thousand questions about your wellbeing, but without any of his usual gruffness as he does so. In fact, he's probably the softest you've ever seen him. The smile never once leaves his face as he insists on getting you fed and rested and to bed where he pulls the covers over you himself.

·In the aftermath he almost seems to melt in your presence, losing most of his grumpy persona every time he's with you no matter how long or difficult a day he's had. Though you obviously don't mind, a couple bots let you know that when you were kidnapped he was the closest to losing control anyone had ever seen him. He'd been shouting and cursing until you had interrupted the latest communication with your captor, at which point he'd been so shocked others had needed to rush in and take advantage of the prolonged signal. Evidently, hearing you defend him as you did had rocked his world in the best possible way. Between working a stressful and often thankless profession, and not ever hearing you shout in such a way before, he's been touched to learn he could be loved by someone who appreciates him as you do. It's enough to keep even the worst of grumpy days from affecting him.

Tailgate

·Truth be told, your greatest concern when you were kidnapped was for your tiny SO, as his propensity for panic could result in some very unpleasant anxiety attacks while he and the others try to rescue you. That worry on his behalf turned to fury when your kidnapper refused to stop mocking the little bot for everything from his size to his age and even for supposedly choosing an organic solely to be taller than someone. It's enough to make you see red, and your limit is quickly reached as a result of the cowardly bullying. Your explosive bout of rage is a scream of frustration that quickly morphs into an unstoppable tirade that pulls no punches. Has this big jerk been planning this for any length of time you ask, because if so, you know a couple of sparklings that could think of more mature insults!

·"Really?! You make fun of bots for being short?! He's also blue, you want to pick on him for something arbitrary, why limit yourself?!" You know it's not the smoothest insult, but darn it all, you can't bring yourself to think straight with all this rage. This bot needs to hear what an absolute creep and bully they are, because seriously who gloats like a real life cartoon villain? When they leave the communicator and try to get in your face you're only further incensed, channeling your tiny partner's courage as you wish beyond the telling of it you could punch the jerk into silence. "If there's gonna be insults, how about I open the floor to some genuine digs? Because your ugly mug is a GOLDMINE of material, okay?! Seriously, does Unicron ask YOU for beauty tips?!"

·There's sputtering in response, which you just take as a go ahead to tear them apart, because at this point you're not sure if you can really stop. After all, record shattering hideous face aside, what does this bot actually have to offer? Tailgate has saved millions! Faced with multiple varieties of death, he took out the guy hellbent on committing species wide genocide, and he doesn't even brag about it! You rub that in your captors face with all the pride you have for your partner spurring you on, hoping that you get a chance to tell Tailgate what a source of inspiration he was in these moments. At the very least you'll have to tell him how your captor froze at the enraged shouting. "Plus, Tailgate has actual friends! People LIKE him, unlike you, who I'm guessing doesn't entertain often based on the corpses you leave lying around!"

·A last ditch attempt to shut you up with a few lame threats just gets you laughing, in part because you can't believe this bot ever thought they were going to succeed at this. "You didn't even bother to check up on who you're making an enemy of, did you? I doubt it, because if you did, you'd know Tailgate has made paperweights out of bots much tougher than you!" Perhaps it's a little macabre, but it's endlessly satisfying to see your captor flinch as you describe what an absolute powerhouse your partner is, particularly how he uses his small size to levy his strength in the most destructive ways possible. It's delightful enough that, as you begin to brag about the benefits of his size relative to yours and his strength working together in more intimate settings, only something like an earthquake stops you.

·Chained as you are, there's no way to get a clear look at your captor as they attempt to flee, but thankfully the ground stills just in time to let you see the cavalry arrive. Lost Light bots pour in to stop the automated defenses from doing much at all, and in a brilliant blue and white blur your kidnapper is punched full to unconsciousness by what might as well have been a meteorite. It's only when said force of nature runs to free you and a tearful blue visor meets your eyes that you recognize Tailgate. The minibot gets you down in a hurry and embraces you in as tight a hug as is safe, talking a mile a minute about his worries and how sorry he is you had to go through all this. After assuring him he doesn't have to beat up your captor any further, you let him carry you back to the ship, getting nuzzled all the while.

·In between far more frequent cuddle sessions from the absolutely enamored Tailgate, you get pulled aside by a couple bots who just want to let you know what an impact your brave speech had on the minibot. While inconsolable during your kidnapping, to the point of swapping between rage and tears every few minutes, he'd been visibly awed once he heard you go off in his defense. That makes you understand everything far more clearly; this bot has been unsure of his self worth for so long, so hearing you face down a much larger foe because you love him so much that their taunting him drove you to frenzy... Knowing he's loved like that changed his entire worldview. You can see it in his visor every time he looks at you, and feel it in every buzzing hug, how grateful he is to have found someone who loves him.

Cyclonus

·Dating a bot capable of triggering enemy surrender with a glance requires a strong will, mostly to endure the endless questions from bots confused as to how you got Cyclonus to ask you out, but today you find yourself facing a whole new level of irritation. Though the bot that kidnapped you is obviously no match for your towering partner, they still mock the big mech through radio like they're some kind of badass, taunting him for debasing himself and growing soft by dating a fleshy. Regardless of how hard Cyclonus has worked to open up to you, hearing the personal jabs makes something within snap and go nuclear, resulting in a war cry your partner would be proud of as you rattle your chains for emphasis.

·"Can you just CAN IT with the insults?! We all know that if this fleshy wasn't here as your shield, you'd be fleeing to the other end of the galaxy!" You waste no time getting right to the heart of what's so infuriating about your captor; their spineless and cowardly nature is so obvious beneath the sneering mockery it makes you literally sick. Seeing how completely they freeze at your jab just proves your point in your mind. What, were they just expecting you to be quiet forever after dealing with THEM for the past few hours? Was the idea of resistance that surprising to them?! The calm maturity you picked up from Cyclonus is matched only by the capacity for righteous fury learned from the same source, and it's the latter that breaks out in glorious fashion.

·"Oh, what, nothing to say? No moronic insults for someone who can actually talk back? Do you need your debate opponents to be silent so you can think of a rebuttal?!" Your almost sarcastic jab actually earns you a demand to be silent, but it's so lacking in authority you can only laugh, despite not feeling any less furious with the situation. It's bad enough to be kidnapped and chained up, but by someone this incompetent? Being a tiny fraction of their size doesn't make you feel any less embarrassed for having been caught by them. It's enough frustration to make you snap again when they start coming in close, especially as another insult is levied at Cyclonus for having chosen a human so unpleasant due to his age and miserable attitude. The words are little more than kerosene on your already burning anger.

·"Do you really think you get to accuse Cyclonus of having a miserable attitude, you inept excuse for a kidnapper?! I'd rather have a conversation with these corpses than you! Not to mention, Cyclonus isn't limited to insulting people whenever he talks, unlike you!" The tirade is perhaps nonsensical with how passionately you begin to praise your partner's command of verse, but you're far too lost in your genuine adoration to care, especially as you begin to relay how wonderfully enticing his singing is to you. Every time your captor tries to command silence you just jump to yet another feature that makes your heart flutter, riding on the high of how incredibly good it feels to rub it all in their flustered face as you go. An attempt at describing his passionate grasp of verse around specific topics is stopped only by a door flying off its hinges in a burst of shattered metal.

·Security forces do nothing as a hulking purple figure enters through the smoke of considerable destruction, and your captor is left paralyzed with fear as they're hefted up by a clawed hand, one you're so relieved to see you can't help calling out their name. Cyclonus is content to toss the criminal to the rest of the crew as they arrive, and actually smiles once he beholds you safe. Freeing you of your bonds, he doesn't drop the chains until they're wrapped about your captor for some poetic justice. After that, you're carried to the nearest private spot on the ship and embraced without hesitation, the giant arms that have held you before almost shaking as he whispers how grateful he is to have you back. For an instant he sheds genuine tears when you hug him in return.

·Though the intensity of his emotions isn't as extreme as when he rescued you going forward, the big bot is far more open about his feelings than ever before, even showing them in full view of others. Surprised but not at all displeased, you are however quite thrown for a loop when someone recounts how incredibly worried he was during your kidnapping, in that he had to be convinced not to go after you alone and gouged some unfortunate furniture as he listened to the communications. Yet the moment you started your tirade, he was shocked to a whole new kind of silence. It's obvious that he hadn't even been able to process it at first, but now is fully overwhelmed and grateful for your love as he never was before. Hearing himself defended by someone he adores more than anything changed his perspective of himself, as well as his outlook on life, for how could he not see the beauty of a universe that had given him you?

Drift

·Sort of an interstellar hippy in his own way, Drift has taught you a lot about remaining calm through meditation, saying that a clear mind and control over anger is key to surviving high stress situations. The same philosophy is what he instructed you to use when others mocked his past, as he claims to be used to it and doesn't want anyone angering you on his behalf. This doesn't stop you from simmering in your current situation, dangling from chains as you might be, and admittedly being kidnapped tends to shorten one's fuse. Perhaps that's why you explode so dramatically when your abductor opens up the communication line just to mock your partner by claiming he hardly should be upset by an organic dying, considering his past, and that this current "relationship" is probably just a redemption stunt. That final mistake sets you off on a legendary tirade.

·"Are you KIDDING me?! You want to talk about STUNTS you wannabe kidnapping loser?! Do you have a projection disorder or something?! Because unlike you, Drift doesn't actually have to PROVE anything!" Never in your life have you wished to be the same height as the bots to this degree, granted though it's only because you want to strangle this jerk purely for the satisfaction of throttling them. Drift has worked to be better, and jabs about his past hurt him deeply, despite what he says. What right does this loser have to use that against him? You're so worked up fear isn't in your catalog of emotions when your captor tries to threaten you with physical harm. All you see is an overhyped grifter who got lucky, and you make that abundantly clear.

·"What, are you going to try threatening me, really? Am I supposed to be afraid of bluster now?!" The sight of a tiny organic growing red in the face with rage actually seems to give the bad bot pause, in part because you're so flushed they have to wonder if humans have a secret explosive ability that you're presently charging up. Admittedly you do feel like you might pop, but that's only because it's impossible to unleash all of your anger in a way that's truly satisfying, and you're left with spouting all the very justified insults that spring to mind. One particular thing that galvanizes your anger; how is this jerk pretending they would stand a chance against Drift?! The bot may be a literal ray of sunshine to you, but you're well aware of what he can do to enemies, and you doubt your kidnapper is in the dark about your paramour's combat prowess.

·"Would you be playing the big tough bot if he were anywhere near here?! Or if you didn't have me as a shield?! Because I doubt you'd last a moment in a one on one!" You shout, your tone of vitriol somewhat humorous considering that the point is a very valid one. While not afraid of Drift in the slightest, you know being on his bad side can be fatal in impressively short order. Perhaps that's why his soft approach to your relationship is even better. It's so special to you that in your current state you can't help but brag aggressively, going on about what a wonderful bot he is and that this loser could never hope to best him in combat or personality. Seeing them rethink it all just adds fuel to your fire, but before you can really get going on how Drift's gentle mannerisms extend to the bedroom you're interrupted by a cacophony of unfathomable origin.

·One of the entrances to the room you're in is sliced open by what you swear has to be ten swords at once, but as soon as it's down and the wielder charges in, you see only two held by a very angry looking Drift. Though accompanied by ample backup, he's an army of one as he reduces the security to pieces and almost dices up your captor. Only some obviously difficult self control lets him immobilize the bot instead. Not wasting time, your partner leaves the bad guy for the others to hurry to your side, his expression beaming with unmatched happiness and relief as he cuts you free and catches you in cupped hands. Shameless kisses and a million questions about whether or not you're hurt are your prelude to an open embrace. Never minding public affection in the past, he's still at a new level all the way back to the ship and in the days that follow.

·It's impossible not to go an hour without a loving nuzzle against your forehead, and whenever you aren't looking Drift is in the corner of your eye with an absolutely lovestruck expression on his sweet face, to the point you halfway imagine there could be hearts in his optics. Rodimus himself tells you in confidence that the unshakable ninjabot was barely able to keep himself steady after your kidnapping, obviously holding back a hurricane of pain and grief within his spark, but that changed in a flash as soon as he heard you. Accustomed to being derided, he'd been unprepared for such a passionate defense from anyone. Hearing you shout his praises had nearly driven him to tears. The pain of his past and the exclusion he faces for it has worn him down, to the point he often believes himself to be irredeemable, but you've made him have hope for himself for the first time in eons. Your love makes him see what he's done right, and from now on, he fully intends to give you and himself more to be proud of every day.

Support me here if you like my writing! Every donation helps me secure more time to create, and the same goes for commissions, which are always available!

[softomi]

And The Best Boyfriend Award Goes To....

Nominee One: Suna Rintarou

Dreadful, that’s how you felt. You moved slowly, you slumped into your seat, you groaned. Your boyfriend wasn’t even paying attention to you. He was simply resting on his desk, head buried in his arms but you knew that he was listening. He just always liked to pretend like he couldn’t hear your whining. 

“I don’t want to be here! Babe.” You’re calling to him. 

He finally looked at you, “What’s wrong?” He still rested his head on his arms, you were following his actions. Your head resting on the desk as you looked at your boyfriend; wishing for once he could give you some sympathy.

You were pouting, “Mother nature visited me.” It was short, sweet, one of the closest ways you could address your period without actually saying it. 

“Well, what’d she say?” You almost throw your stuff at him; only he would ever ask a question like this. 

“She said I’m not pregnant.” A sigh escaped your mouth, sure this was supposed to be good news for him and you but it’s not fun when you’re the only one suffering. 

“Well.” He quirks a brow at you, “Isn’t that a good thing?” He thinks he’s funny but he wasn’t to you. 

You turn your head to look away from him, a groan on your lips, “Ugh, you’re the worst boyfriend ever. I’m dating a robot.” 

You were talking with some of your girl friends, some were also going through their own time of the month and could empathize with you. They ranted on how their own boyfriends were just as bad as yours; perhaps some of the others were just a tad bit worse. 

“Ow.” A chocolate bar bounces off your head, landing right in front of you. When you turn, you see your boyfriend standing with his hand in his pockets, “What was that for?” 

“Stop telling everyone I’m the worst boyfriend.” He hands you another chocolate bar but this time it’s one filled with almonds. He pats your head, one of the only actions he’d actually do in front of people. He walks away as he hears the group of girls coo, a blush on his cheeks when he hears you flaunting your boyfriend.

You’re smiling, taking bits of the chocolate to eat as your friends whine about jealousy. That’s how it started. 

Nominee Two: Miya Atsumu

He had just heard about what Suna did, he felt betrayed. Now he had to go above and beyond for you; you who was mad at him because when you snapped at him accidentally, he told you to chill because you were on your period. He was thinking, he was wondering,  just what beats chocolates?

“My love.” He was trying to butter you up with his sweet words, “I’m sorry.” 

You hum, “You heard about Suna didn’t you?” You shrug his hand from your arm, “Don’t try and include me in your dick measuring contest. You’re still the worst.” 

You ignored him for the rest of the school day, even during lunch when he tried to pick at your food, you swatted his hand away. He was practically pouting the entire day, shooting daggers at Suna who had his partner snuggled right up to him. He missed your hugs. 

“It’s Atsumu.” Osamu had burst into your club meeting, sweat trailing down his forehead, calling you for an emergency. 

You rushed behind the male as you two made it to the gym; Atsumu was on the ground, holding a hand to his chest as you came to his side. You were panicking, “Tsumu, are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t.” He’s coughing until suddenly he stopped, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he pulled you down to meet his lips, “I can’t live without your kiss.” 

Needless to say, you slapped him across the face; storming out of the gymnasium as he ran behind you. You were on the verge of tears when he pulled you to look at him. 

“You’re the absolute worst, do you know that.” You hit his chest, “I thought you were actually hurt.” 

“But you’re talking to me now.” He’s smiling, “Look, I got you this.” He’s pulling a rose out from behind him, “It’s a secret though, I snagged it from the garden club’s rose bushes. They banned me after the last time I stole their tulips for you.” He watches your eyes soften with the rose, “Am I forgiven? Am I the best boyfriend now?”

You take the rose from him, “Fine, but as consequence, you need to snap a video of you buying pads, chocolates, and flowers to all the members of the volleyball club.” 

Nominee Three: Miya Osamu 

Club activities weren’t over but you watched as Atsumu and his girlfriend reconciled out in the courtyard. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous, you had heard about his stupid plan from your own boyfriend. You didn’t think she would actually fall for that; but as your own boyfriend approached you in the hall, you told yourself you weren’t going to fall for his sweetness. 

“Hey, don’t walk away from me.” Osamu follows behind you, “You still mad?” 

“I don’t know, are you still stupid?” Yes, you were still angered and annoyed. He invited you to go swimming over the weekend but when you told him you were on your period, he told you to just hold it in. It wasn't the dumbest thing he’s ever said to you but the fact was that he wasn’t considerate enough when you tried to explain that girls just can’t hold it in; instead he high fived his bros as if it was a joke. 

“How many times are you gonna make me say sorry?” He’s still following you. 

You don’t even look back at him, “The fact that you have to ask means that it hasn’t been enough.” 

He’s sighing, “What do you want? Flowers? Chocolates? A giant teddy bear? I’ll rob Atsumu for you.” 

You were so close, so close to cracking a smile but you kept your composure; turning to him abruptly. For a second he thinks you’ll come running into his arms; heck, he’s even got his arms out ready for you. 

“Go out into the courtyard, profess your undying love for me.” You coldly turn away. 

You knew he wouldn’t do it, he was too reserved to be shouting professions of love out in the open for everyone to hear. Even when he confessed his feelings for you, he hid you between the corners of the library; handing you a love letter before scampering off shyly. But you didn’t know the extent his feelings of love reached, you didn’t know that he would literally do anything for you. 

“Hey.” Your friend came running into the classroom, a large grin and giggle on her face, “There’s a crazy person out in the courtyard.” She looks at you, “He kind of looks like your boyfriend.” 

Your heart drops, you’re running to the windows, opening them to see him proudly standing in the middle of the courtyard with a megaphone, “Can you hear me?” 

Students have now gathered from all the windows, the crowd answers a screeching ‘yes’ to him. 

“I love my girlfriend y/n.” He looks straight at you. 

You’re blushing profoundly as he opens his mouth once more, a teacher comes running out of the building. Students are laughing as he’s being scolded by the teacher. You meet him when he comes out of the office, your hand tucked behind your back. 

“You’re stupid.” You say to him, draping his arm over your shoulder. He puts a tight hold on you. 

“For you I am.” He kisses your hair.

The Winner: Kita Shinsuke 

Ah, young love. It made you want to laugh, the way the second years were running around the school trying to cease their lover’s anger. It also made you smile, the way your own boyfriend was bending backwards for his younger friends. The three stooges had all come to you one by one; of the three, Suna was definitely the only one who listened. 

“Where’s Kita?” 

One of your friends had come to visit you in the gymnasium, you looked up, the pencil in your hand tapped against your chin, “I think he’s at the office, Osamu got in trouble.” 

“Typical of the second years.” Your friend mutters before she bids you a farewell. 

It wasn’t long until he showed up, slight annoyance on his expression, “Sorry.” 

You’re leaning forward, a grin on your lips, “No need. What happened with Osamu?” 

Kita frowns, “He has to do a week of clean up duty after school, meaning we’ll be down a hitter for our practice match Friday.” He’s about to return to practice when he suddenly remembers, “Oh, here, I accidentally activated it on the way here.” 

You take the small heat pack from him, the warmth taking over your palm, “What’s this for?” 

“Your cramps.” He drapes his jacket over you, “If you put it in the pocket, you can use it to apply heat on where it hurts the most.” 

You were blushing, your lips suddenly in a pout, “How perfect are you.” You’re opening your arms for him, inviting him for a hug to which he can’t refuse. You press a kiss onto his cheek, “Best boyfriend indeed.” 

It’s the one time you’ll see his face go red, it’s as if he’s buffering for a second before going back to his normal stature. Composed, poised, and calm; he turns back to the team. His hands on his hips as he starts to give a lecture on how significant others shouldn’t be distracting the players from the game. 

“But.” Suna raises a hand, “How come your girlfriend can come to our practice and ours can’t?” 

Kita freezes, as the team looks back on you; your attempting to hide the growing smile on your face. He was definitely caught; it was true, technically you weren’t supposed to be in the gym. 

The captain coughs, “She’s our unofficial manager, so she’s allowed to be here.” 

“If that’s the case, my girlfriend’s the unofficial manager too.” The men snicker at the comment thrown into the crowd but their laughs suddenly cease when Kita steps forward. 

“Ten laps around the school yard, everyone, now.” 

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Hey I love your...everything about dick Grayson. I have a terrible memory but I remember someone saying they think dick Grayson has ADHD and I think it was you? If it was can you talk about it a little more? Like, give some examples of traits? I love that headcanon but as someone not that knowledgeable of this stuff I wanted to get someone else's pov on the topic

agh thank you!! and yea, that was me, in this post. that was just me rambling a bit and me jotting stuff down, but i did say if you wanted more i’d be happy to give more. and so, in headcanon format, here is more.

One of Dick Grayson’s defining traits is that he could not sit still. Everybody had noticed it, everybody had commented on it, and everyone pretended to find it annoying while also knowing that his constant fidgeting, bouncing, leaping, talking, and laughing was a comfort. The buzz of energy surrounding him was a constant, and prompted many many people to offhandedly remark to Bruce, “He’s probably got ADHD.” Green Arrow, when Robin was talking Flash’s ear off when he first met the Justice League. A socialite in a dress with a borderline-obscene neckline when Dick came up to him for the eighth time that night, drawing his attention to something new. Even Harley Quinn, as he jumped around her in circles after they’d tied her up to a pole in a warehouse while Bruce copied the data, although she said it with a fond little grin and a bit more, well, educated style.

And if he was being honest? Bruce agreed with all of them. Just, in a different way. 

Dick’s hyperfixiations were a sight to behold. He’d find something interesting to label as his New favourite thing ever, Bruce!!, absorb everything there was to know about the topic, then move on to something new in a month. Which had always been the problem. Bruce couldn’t begin to count the nights he had to coerce Dick into coming downstairs, leaving his rare igneous rock collection or his college-level textbook about nerve paralysis or his new batch of poisonous flowers, and eating something, or going to bed. There was a reason Dick was underweight for most of his life, and still was as an adult.

It was in his “all or nothing” attitude, the way he threw his entire self into the job, or whatever needed to be done. But if he decided something wasn’t worth it, or that he was done, he dropped it entirely, with no lost love. His impulse control was bad, but that was something Bruce could help him with, train him to keep a level head or make the right choice. Though, making choices was another thing to tackle altogether. Choice paralysis was the best way to describe it. If Dick didn’t absolutely make up his mind about something, then he was split, caught between two different choices, and he couldn’t say no to either. 

Jason may have rage coursing through his blood, but his anger was solid, dependable, reliable. Dick’s mood swings, however, were monsters that Bruce had been trying to understand since Dick was a child, his kindness and understanding changing to harsh words and accusatory looks so fast it gave Bruce whiplash. Jason seemed to be one of the few who could wade his way through them, never trying to change him or stop him, just trying to understand him.

Tim’s internal clock may be blown and shot to hell, but it was out of willpower, determination. He had work to do, and he would power through his tiredness until it was done. (And then he’d grab an oversized superboy t-shirt and crash for a couple days on end.) Dick, on the other hand, could not sleep. Lying in a bed made him restless, but sitting in the kitchen hunched over a mug of chamomile tea made gave him a headache. Dick had once told him, in the hours where it was too early to be morning but too late to be night, that he just wanted his brain to stop for once, to just shut off. Bruce didn’t have an answer. Tim, apparently, had an answer, because he would sit up with Dick in that kitchen, turning the lights down low, and talking with him about this cool new spot he found for his photography, or some changes he’s thinking of making to his suit. Tim’s quiet rambling seemed to ease the headache, at least.

Cass and Dick may not have many things in common, at first glance. They never bonded the way they did to other members of the family, the way Cass and Steph learned to laugh together or the way Dick and Jason finally reached an understanding, and were able to just spend time together. Bruce actually thought Cass would get along with Damian, given their shared assassin history. But Damian just looked at him strange, and said “I’m not the one who was raised as a human weapon.” And that...that was true. Cass may have been isolated and alone, and Dick might have been raised with love and affection, but Bruce couldn’t deny that the two of them had been raised, as Damian put it, human weapons. And despite Dick’s ease and grace and innate flexibility, Bruce knew that Dick itched at his skin, sometimes felt uncomfortable and not in control in his own body. But then he saw Dick with Cass one day, stretching and going over some basic yoga poses, the silence between them thick with something heavy and grateful. Bruce memorized the content and peaceful look on his children’s faces, then left as quietly as he’d entered. 

Bruce was no stranger to Stephanie’s self esteem issues, overhearing her in front of the mirror many a time, clothed in the Robin costume and telling herself, in between gritted teeth, “I deserve to be here. I’m good enough. I’ve got this.” As for Dick, his self esteem issues were a tad different. His constant need to make people like him, his jokes and quips that were aimed to make people think he was funny, think he was worth it, his absolute terror of rejection, the way he broke off relationships and had trouble maintaining the ones he did have under the philosophy of leaving before they rejected him for real. A whisper in the back of Bruce’s mind whispered Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, though neither of them were fond of labels. But it wasn’t hard to miss the easy stream of compliments flowing back and forth between Dick and Steph, usually good natured teasing, but no less sincere. It helped them more than they realized.

People may say Damian was violent, rude, and prone to outbursts. And this was true, for the most part. Bruce knew Damian was still getting a handle on his emotions, but he also knew the kid actually meditated in his free time, and most of his actions were well planned and thought out. Dick, on the other hand, had outbursts frequently. He’d just gotten much better at controlling them, or maybe just blowing up at Bruce and hiding them from the rest of the family. And his emotions were a hurricane, a whirlwind of raw power. Regulating him had long since gone out the window. Luckily, Damian seemed think the opposite (or maybe Bruce had given up too early). Dick never actually seemed to enjoy meditating with Damian, but controlling their tempers was something the two of them were working on together, one backing the other up or slow them down, and vice versa. 

Every time someone came up to him, telling him Dick was just so cheerful and hyper and constantly in motion, Bruce was brought back to the first week in the manor, Alfred raising his eyebrow at Bruce after Dick’s latest antics had landed him in his room, refusing to open the door for anyone. Bruce knew Alfred was running through a mental checklist in his head, same as him. Alfred had told him, “This is going to be quite a bit of trouble, Master Bruce.” Bruce had shown his weary agreement. Then Alfred had nodded resolutely, and said “I suppose we shall just love him right, then.”

Bruce knew without a doubt that Alfred had succeeded in that particular promise. But Bruce was still asking himself whether or not he had. 

ADHD is,,,,,,,hard to write. tag list: @comicsandhoney @dangerduckjpeg @yesboopityboop @birdy-bat-writes @astroherogirl @anothertimdrakestan @thebatsandbirdsofgotham @subtleappreciation

[sukiglycerin]

the scrapbook documenting denki kaminari and his experiences with love, subtlety, and volumes of manga || denki kaminari.

* pairing: denki kaminari x oblivious!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, normal conflict(??) but not much, uni!au, friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots to lovers

* words: 4.5k

* warnings: brief scenario of intoxication, mentions of maidgirls (one of them has a gun because mey-rin from kuroshitsuji), reader has past bad experiences with relationships, bakusquad is supportive af, reader is oblivious (duh), i love sero, side kiribaku

* original request: Can you do a fluff Denki crushing on the reader but the reader is really oblivious to him just badly flirting and bakusquad gets annoyed and helps them get together 😳

* a/n: this turned out much longer than expected, but i’m satisfied with the turn-out! i call this a “scrapbook” because it’s like a collection of short moments. i’m experimenting with this writing style, so i hope you enjoy it! i started writing reader by basing them off of this one pretty girl i know (and very much like), but then reader started morphing into me projecting myself and oh boy. yeah. fun fact: i actually own the kuroshitsuji manga volume with the maidgirl on the cover (volume 22).

“please don’t like me,” is the first thing you say to denki kaminari. you don’t know who he is, though, when you say these words. all you know is that he’s presumably a college student like you and that he’s quite extroverted. behind him stand three of his friends giggling to themselves. it’s apparent they’re playing a practical joke. 

the first thing the blond boy said to you was, “hey, you’re cute, i like you.” that was thirty seconds ago, after you’d put your manga down when you noticed his friends pushing him towards you.

he cracks a grin upon your response. “alright.” he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “the point still stands - you’re cute.” his eyes fall to the manga you set down. “hey- is that detective conan?”

it’s an old, worn copy of detective conan’s first volume.

“oh, yeah,” you reply.

“can i see it?” he asks. you nod.

he picks up the book, surprisingly gentle with its fading corners and creased spine. 

"i used to read the series all the time," he says quietly, reliving a memory in his eyes. "i always tried to solve the crime before conan." 

you're not sure what to answer, but he introduces himself before you can.

"i'm kaminari, by the way." he slips a piece of paper in your manga, setting the book down on your table. "text me."

“please don’t fall in love with me,” is the first thing you whisper to denki kaminari, hushed under the sheets in mina’s room. you're surprised he can hear you over the quiet murmurings of a ghibli movie playing on the tv; you're surprised he's awake.

“okay,” and it’s the first promise he’s ever broken, voice all low and hoarse from the after-effects of prolonged silence. 

(maybe he should've feigned sleep, he later thinks, as his heart stupidly falls and crashes clumsily into love. maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.)

he turns onto his back, staring at the ceiling. it's dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars mina and sero had impulsively hung up one friday evening instead of studying. there's a couple moons, too, which bakugou had frowned upon, stating, "where are we, jupiter? there's only one moon orbiting earth." kirishima laughed. 

from the sound of shuffling sheets and a quick glance next to him, denki can tell you're now laying on your back, too. he almost makes a comment about you copying him. he stares at the faux stars overhead, not tired enough to close his eyes and allow sleep it's victory for the night. there's not much to do while awake at the moment other than strain his ear to decipher to the tv's audio. his throat feels dry, but he's not motivated enough to sit up to grab a water bottle. anyway, he supposes you and he are staring at the same sky, in a cheesy way. he remembers reading something like that in a book.

he kills the time and his aching mind by finding stupid constellations in the stick-on stars. there's a slightly distorted dipper of some sort, and a heart. there's a lot of squares. there's a shape he passes off as orion, but he knows anyone a tad more into astronomy than him would gasp at the abstract shape and completely dismiss its resemblance to orion. 

eventually, your breathing slows to a rhythmic pace beside him. the logical part of his mind tells him to sleep now that you, too, are sleeping. he doesn't know why he waited for you to be asleep first. one pentagon constellation later, kaminari allows sleep's gaze to wash over and envelope him. the ghibli movie is still playing.

it seems that his friends have beat him, somehow, to the conclusion that denki kaminari has a bit of a crush on you. it's childish, really. he shouldn't like you, recalling your first words to him. they struck you apart from other people he'd met. back then, though, he never seriously thought about you like that. sure, you were conventionally attractive (enough for him to approach you to give you his number), but it was all in good fun. that's what you were, too, for the longest time: good fun and a friend.

until one day, glances lingered for too long while you weren't looking. one day, kaminari's jokes became more and more aimed for you, to hear your laughter in his ears. one day, kaminari realizes he has your usual coffee and bubble tea order memorized, when he can barely remember his own.

he pretends all of it is completely normal, but mina assures him differently. as does bakugou, which is strange, because he's usually not wrapped up in other people's affairs (when voicing this to the blond, he responded, "it's hard not to notice because you're too damn obvious"). it's kind of hard to ignore when bakugou calls it obvious (he's literally had kirishima pining over him since day one with no notice).

kaminari really does try to ignore the bubbling feeling rising at the bottom of his heart. he really does, but you keep on shaking and shaking his poor heart until it's all fizzy like a bottle of soda. he's weak, okay? one day, he’ll explode.

his friends are all urging him to confess to you already, but he cannot work up the nerve to do so. instead, kaminari drops you obvious hints that he likes you. he doesn't know whether you're completely oblivious to them or if you're deliberately ignoring them.

he's been so painfully obvious, he swears.

he's practically able to write a list of hints he's dropped. he's fairly confident he could publish it as an advice book with the title "how to tell your crush you like them without saying 'i like you.'" by this point, he's the king of obvious subtlety. 

the list would go something like this, in no particular order:

pick-up lines

"did it hurt, when you fell-" you were silent, "-from the vending machine? because you're a snack." 

silence. absolute radio silence. he was extremely tempted to run away from the sheer awkwardness between the two of you. as he turned to leave and freak out in private, he heard you mumble a belated "thanks," which made everything worth it.

he still left to freak out, though (and plan his next pick-up line to tell you).

manga references

"hey, y/n," kaminari had said one day, after a particular burst of confidence. you hadn't looked up from your book.

"if i were shinichi from detective conan, you'd be ran," he'd said, referencing the main love interests from the manga. "or maybe vice versa. you are the smart one in this relationship..."

you didn't bat an eye. "they never get together, though? shinichi and ran."

"they- they don't?!" he'd sputtered indignantly. he definitely needed to read up his detective conan lore. "but they both like each other?"

"true," you'd replied in typical you fashion, neither letting on whether you did like him or not. well, hey, kaminari had thought. you didn't deny it. progress.

hand size comparison (which was, in reality, just an excuse to kind of hold your hand)

kaminari had smoothly been planning this for weeks (which, according to sero, was a little sad). he'd bring up the topic of hands one day in your daily conversations, then nonchalantly slip a "oh, y/n, let's do a hand size comparison!" he high-fived himself mentally upon the formulation of this genius plan - you'd definitely fall for him (or at least, realize his feelings for you - this state of teetering between do they like me or do they not like me frustrated him for months on end). the perfect opportunity presented itself one day as the two of you lounged in mina’s room (which, at this point, had become you and your friends’ hangout spot) studying. 

“wow, you type fast,” kaminari remarked as he pretended to innocently look up from the “work” (changing his laptop wallpaper for the tenth time that day) he was doing. you were focused on your work, sitting on mina’s bed with your laptop propped up by a pillow on your lap. you’d barely registered his words, judging by the way your eyebrows scrunched and how you looked up at him after a slow beat. 

“oh, uh, thanks,” you replied. “i’m just copying some text down. i don’t usually type this fas…” you trailed off, eyes widening as you watched kaminari scooching next to you on the bed. he put his hand next to yours, whose fingers still ghosted the keys of your keyboard.

“look,” he said softly, bringing your hands up to eye level. “hand size comparison.” it was breathed out belatedly, but your crystalline eyes didn’t leave his. he started to curve his fingers in between yours, holding your hand so tenderly. he really, really didn’t want to let go. “we fit.” it was a whisper he wasn’t sure you could hear - did he want you to hear it? “like… a puzzle,” he added awkwardly.

you nodded, dazed, slowly bending your fingers over his. he rocked your clasped hands side to side, a fond feeling creeping through his limbs. it was warm and tingly - and maybe it was contagious. could you feel it too, buzzing past his fingertips to you?

precisely three minutes passed before kaminari’s arm started to ache. he didn’t catch your disappointed expression when he let go of your hand, but he did catch the smile that emerged when he held your hand as the sides of your fingers nudged the bed. you didn’t get much work done after that, sitting in silence with him. 

brushing your hand in a popcorn bucket

movie nights on fridays were commonplace at mina’s. the plan, this time, was created by kirishima, who said that it was manly with just the right amount of romantic. kaminari hoped so. the movie settled on was some romance flick, as decided by mina, kirishima, and sero’s pleading with a very begrudging bakugou.

he can’t remember much of the movie. what he can remember, however, is the very close presence of you next to him as the two of you shared a popcorn bucket (courtesy of sero’s very romantic ideas). your hands brushed a (purposeful, on kaminari’s end) dozen times throughout the film. the last couple were accidents. on the first time, though, kaminari watched with satisfaction from his peripheral view as you looked from him to the popcorn that obscured the place where your hands made contact. he was very satisfied by the time the movie ended. 

truth or drink (which just ended up with you and he both getting very, very drunk)

you didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of sake, but that night was an exception. according to your drunken explanation, you had a very rough day. your exam, first and foremost, did not go particularly well (“who cares about freud!?” you blurted. “i dooooon’t!”). kaminari didn’t have the heart to ask who this freud was. then, one of your close friends confessed to you (which almost made kaminari’s heart stop, when you first recounted it to him), and you had to turn them down. you adamantly refused any sort of relationship, you told kaminari. (“nuh uh,” you shook your head. “they’re not good.”) it was surprising to him that you opened up that night. your first couple drinks left you quieter than usual - which was scary, because kaminari was practically having a conversation with himself then. a couple more drinks loosened your tongue, though. 

“there’s someone i like.” you jabbed a finger at him. “but i’m not supposed to saaaay… and it’s scaaary,” you slurred.

“ohh?” kaminari asked, more focused on the burn in the back of his throat. “whooo is it?”

you looked at your arm outstretched to him, and the pieces fell into place slower than they should’ve. he first looked around, just in case he was covering the person you were really pointing to (of course, you and him were the only ones there).

“this guy?" he asked, flabbergasted and pointing to himself. "him?!"

you nodded solemnly. "but i don't like dating," you said stubbornly. "love is dead!" you announced, flopping on the carpet. 

kaminari watched the heaving of your breaths as you lay on the ground, and strained his ears to hear your soft, soberish murmuring.

"i really like you, denki kaminari."

a dopish grin formed itself on his face. "i really like you too, y/n." 

kaminari then promptly blacked out, but not before hearing you running to the bathroom to throw up.

as of now, he can’t recall anything he or you said that night. on the contrary, he can vividly remember the ringing in his head and the sickly feeling that overtook him the next morning.

"you two are so frustrating!" mina declares over her sweetened iced tea. she points at kaminari, then to you standing with sero in the distance. you’re animatedly talking about some painting (“it’s renoir!” you mooned when you first saw it) while he and the rest of the group sit on a nearby bench. 

kaminari puts his hands up. “don’t look at me - i tried my best!”

“yeah, sure,” mina dismisses. “and i’m the queen of england.”

“i mean, they already told me not to like them!” kaminari counters. “what am i supposed to do about that?”

“shoot your shot!” mina urges. “c’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? …wait, don’t answer that.”

“yeah, kaminari, bro,” kirishima puts his elbow on kaminari’s shoulder. “flirt a little bit more.”

“that’s all you two seem to do,” bakugou grumbles from the other side of kirishima.

“you just need a little push,” mina says. kaminari isn’t sure he likes mina’s definition of push.

“i think i’m g-”

“hey, sero, come here!” mina calls to sero in the distance, earning her a couple dirty glances from others in the gallery. “kaminari wants to look at the painting with y/n.”

oh, god, kaminari groans internally. sero, already walking toward the bench, flashes a knowing grin toward him. 

“go get ‘em, champ.” sero pats kaminari on the back as the blond stands up, emitting a low, audible groan. 

the four on the bench watch as your eyes light up at the approaching kaminari, who’s sheepishly scratching his neck. he says something - then you start again, rambling something about “impressionism” then “salon.” mina watches with clasped, anticipating hands; kirishima’s hand accidentally brushes bakugou’s, who’s holding a juice box and watching the two of you; sero simply smiles with knowledge that the others are unaware of.

“well, what do you think?” you finally ask kaminari, gesturing to the painting. 

“uhh,” kaminari says. he was too busy staring at your face - the twinkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips - to pay attention to any of what you’d said. something about impressing and fleeting moments. he looks at the person depicted in the composition, then back to you. he remembers kirishima’s words - flirt a little bit more. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

“i think it’s pretty,” he leans into you, murmuring so he can be sure no one but you and he hears his words, “but it’s definitely not as pretty as you.”

you look down at yourself; then, for whatever reason, to sero. kaminari looks at sero, too, who’s wearing this stupid smile that sets unease in kaminari’s chest. he gives you two big thumbs-up. he’s so confused by sero’s behavior that he barely registers the light sensation of something on his cheek - a kiss. he looks at you, who’s looking away, then to the bench, where his friends are cheering despite the disapproving looks from those around them. he touches his cheek out of disbelief. light swells in his chest - it’s warm, so warm - but your aloof voice brings him back to reality (which really, isn’t much different from a dream).

“kaminari, you’re very red right now.”

“the two of you,” mina exclaims with the two of her hands clasped together in excitement over skype, “should go to a manga cafe!”

kaminari blinks. “as a date?”

“i wasn’t thinking about it like that.” mina nudges him, a sly smile creeping across her lips. “but hey, that works too. i mean, they did kiss y-”

kaminari cuts the pink-haired girl off before she can finish. “is that something… they’d want to do?”

“mmm…. probably,” mina says. “they were reading manga when you first met them right?”

he can vividly remember the somewhat tattered volume of conan, the detective turned little boy who must solve crime while hiding his own identity. really, the wear was only on the soft cover, nudged and peeling on the corners with faded text splayed on the spine. the pages were in crisp condition, he’d noted one day as he (totally, completely discreetly) watched you read the copy again. the bookshelf in your dorm and the stack of books on your desk is littered with different mangas, ranging from the old classics (astroboy) to some newer works (your lie in april). he only remembers this fact because he really, really wants to borrow a copy of black butler (yes, it’s the one with the maid on it. she looks really hot with a gun, okay?). all your manga are well-taken care of, cared for diligently as if each book has a piece of your heart in it. besides, you rarely lend out any (sero once asked to borrow jujutsu kaisen and you very, very reluctantly handed it to him), so he doubts you’d trust him with it.

“hang on, lemme ask sero if they’d be interested in a manga cafe,” mina says, pulling out her phone. “they’ve been close lately,” she mumbles as she types out a quick text to him, a quiet ping letting kaminari know that she’s sent it.

after a pause, mina excitedly reads sero’s reply: “yeah, probably.”

well, that was a definitive answer. 

“there’s one nearby here,” mina offers. “hagakure told me good things about it, and she has a knack for finding the best spots in town. i’ll send you the address.”

“you think they’d like it?” kaminari says in an atypical bout of self-consciousness.

“of course,” mina replies instantly. “don’t you see how they look at you?”

usagi manga kissa makes kaminari cringe. it’s not the bunny-themed logo on the top of the building, nor is it the wide assortment of manga lining the walls, nor is it the cozy, soft seats nuzzled in the nooks and crannies of the café. it’s not even the life-sized cardboard cut-outs of various anime maid girls (he actually particularly really likes that detail). it’s the name itself. usagi is fine - kaminari likes bunnies as much as the next guy. manga is fine, too - he wouldn’t be here if not for the manga. the kissa makes him cringe for the most immature of reasons, like a five year old just learning basic english vocabulary. kissa innocently shortens the word kissaten, for cafeteria, but suspiciously sounds like the english word kiss. he does not want to think about kissing as he walks into the café with you, and especially not when the lady at the counter asks if you want a couples’ discount (you say yes, solely because it’s cheaper). 

he does not want to think about kissing as he walks next to you, browsing the manga selection and passing the shoujo section that boasts illustrations of happy couples and romantic imagery. he doesn’t want to think about kissing as the two of you walk to a “couple’s” room, you rambling about the plot of the manga you chose and him with some shounen volleyball manga in his hand. kissing is the worst thing to think about as your knee touches his in the cramped apparent two-person room. he is not thinking about kissing at all when you offer him your water bottle, half full, and he’s definitely not thinking about indirect kissing or anything when he takes a sip. that would be crazy. 

fortunate for him, his manga is full of not-kissing, so he’s able to somewhat enjoy it without his mind bombarding him with the fact that your face is less than a metre away. as he finishes up the volume, he realizes how much of a middle school student he feels like. 

“y/n,” he looks up to you and says. you’re watching an old episode of neon genesis evangelion on the computer provided in the room, the manga you were reading sitting on the table beside the keyboard. 

“yeah?” you respond and pause the anime. out of his peripherals, he can see you turn to look at him. he stares at the wall ahead of him, lacking the confidence to face you head-on. 

“remember when we first met?” he reminisces. 

“the cafe?” you say. “yeah.”

“if… i can ask,” he musters, “why did you say what you did then?”

you pause, taken aback. “i… i don’t know.”

“because,” kaminari starts, and you flinch, “i like you. a-and i know you said not to-”

a ghost has crossed your face. your mouth is agape, as if you suspected his feelings but never thought he’d verbalize them. he wonders what the kiss was about. 

“i’m,” you gulp, breath stuttering, “i’m sorry.”

kaminari lied. five days later of zero contact with you, he realizes he’s in deep. he doesn’t like you - he’s in love with you. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and here he is, sifting through memories he had with you like they’re books. he should probably be studying instead of lying spread eagle on his bed, thinking of you. he can recall a promise made one night and the moment it was broken; he can remember the plastic stars he studied that night, falsely shining and lighting hope within him. he can remember dozens of constellations, half of which were geometric shapes, that he fell asleep to with you at his side. his heart aches, alighting a dull burn within him like a protostar barely able to burn hydrogen. 

there’s a polite knock at his door, so he assumes it to be either kirishima or sero. mina always enters unannounced and bakugou is far too brash to knock softly. slowly - almost reluctantly - he sits up in bed, standing up and making his way to the door. he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, telling him that his hair is an absolute mess and in no way presentable. he figures that either kirishima or sero will comment about it, but he never needed to impress them in the first place. turning the knob and opening the door, he’s expecting either of his friends, maybe here to nag him or ask him to come and study or say “hey, why haven’t you spammed the group chat with memes in a while? i missed them.”

he definitely isn’t expecting you, face pulled into a worried expression and lips held in a thin, anticipating line before you meet his eyes. you’re pouring out a waterfall of apologies at a thousand words per second as soon as he opens the door, letting yourself in and hardly taking notice of his bird’s nest hair. he guides you to the couch, attempting to interject and ask you to slow down, but he finds that it sounds rude at any given moment. you’re sitting on the couch, lamentations and explanations spilling from your lips as you grip the plush material of the cushion you sit on, when you finally pause to take a breath. kaminari uses this opportunity to interrupt you.

“woah, woah, woah.” he hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder. “can you back up?”

“oh, yeah,” you start to move back in your seat and kaminari stifles a laugh.

“no, can you start your story from the beginning?” he asks. “take your time, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m really, really sorry about what happened the other day,” you apologize, then look at him finally and ogle his hair. “i got… scared,” you admit earnestly. before he can make any question of it, you continue, “i like you too, see. and i never really, seriously acted on it - i didn’t want to. so when you did the inevitable and confessed… it scared me. the truth is… i’m not the best at romance or relationships. i don’t want to put anyone through that, again.” your voice wavers but finishes strong as you look kaminari in the eyes.

“that?” he asks. he’s afraid he’s crossed a line, but you reply all the same.

“i was in a relationship, once. i wasn’t… i wasn’t good enough. i didn’t do the things that people in a relationship are supposed to do, i guess.” you fiddle with the fabric of the couch, looking down at your fingers. your voice gives away the vulnerability of the topic, wrapped in a stiff disconnection; you’ve distanced yourself from it, probably once too familiar with the feelings you speak of.

“it’s okay,” kaminari says, almost too quickly. he slows himself down. “that’s… completely fine,” he admits truthfully. “we can go slow. i… i can wait.”

“can you?” you look up at him, hope shining your eyes. it dims quickly before you say, “you don’t have to. i don’t want to limit you…”

“the only person i want is you,” he reassures you, hesitantly taking your hand in his. “you’re not…” he struggles for words, “...limiting me if i don’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“are you sure?” it’s an almost inaudible whisper, clutching your hopes in three words that are held together by thin threads. 

“i’ve never been more sure,” kaminari replies confidently, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“okay,” you breathe out, relief tingeing your speech. “i… want to be with you.”

it takes everything in kaminari not to kiss you right there. 

“oh, by the way-” you say, standing up from the couch and leaving kaminari to sit alone, “did you still want to borrow that copy of black butler?”

“the one with the maid who has a gun?” kaminari asks, eyes wide. how did you know about that?

“yeah. you kept staring at it before, so i assumed…”

“yeah. yeah, no, yeah, that’d be really great. amazing, actually. wonderful. stupendous-” kaminari shuts himself up before he can ramble on longer. 

“okay, give me a second,” you respond, smiling, and exit to the hallway to retrieve the manga. 

you return with the volume in hand, placing it in kaminari’s hands. 

“thanks,” he says as he glides his thumb over the glossy cover and mint condition. it’s heavier than kaminari thought, and it feels like the weight of a heart. he’ll be sure to take extra care of it, holding it with ginger fingers and a sweet, sweet feeling in his chest.