#also stop giving him a sense of fashion. make him wear pattern on pattern i beg of you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gh0st-t0wn3 · 1 year ago

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Lmk ss edits + headcanons, Part 5 (Porty MK, Artist MK, Delivery MK)

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson either Wildfire or Firecracker

- Whenever something goes wrong he says "called it." (He did not, in fact, call it)

- Calls everyone "Dude"

- Once took Redson out to the Anti-gravity Arcade and got mad when he passed out after almost 32 hours of non-stop dancing and playing arcade games

- Tells MK that he has no fashion sense but will wear the most atrocious combination of colours and patterns himself

- Has multiple ear piercings as well as a bellybutton and tongue piercing

- Once threw a party that got busted by the police and dispelled himself to avoid getting caught

- Has so much energy, if he's not at a party he's constantly walking around the apartment, if his legs start hurting he'll sit down for like 8 seconds before getting up and walking around again because he still has so much energy left

- Makes the dirtiest jokes known to man kind

- Makes the others do karaoke night with him. every. week.

- Will sometimes put on lipstick and kiss all over Redsons face and neck to make og MK jealous (trust me guys, please🙏)

- Absolutely HATES dark chocolate, it's too bitter for him

- Despises the claw machine games at the arcade, if he gets something and then it falls out of the claw he'll literally break the glass and just take it

- Lives on energy drinks

- Will refuse to drink any soft drinks when they run out of bubbles

- Loves those cringey alpha wolf memes

- Laughs at those firemen saving people in reverse videos and always sends them to Redson, who also laughs at them (yes it does concern MK and the others)

- Smells like sweat and cotton candy (its from flavoured vape smoke)

- Love language is Quality time (and by quality time I mean partying)

- Has a whole box of glowsticks

- "Hey, hey, hey guys, watch this!!" *fails at trick*

- Loves candy, especially hard candies

- Scams kids out of their tickets at the arcade

- Paints his nails a different colour every week, and almost always uses glow in the dark nail polish

- Tried to make his own firework show once and set three houses on fire

- Would rearrange someone's whole room just to mess with them

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to take prizes from the claw machines without having to actually play them

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson his Muse

- Would probably collect bones. It freaks the fuck out of MK and the other clones

- Will destroy any and every art piece if it doesn't turn out exactly how he envisioned it in his head

- Writes fanfiction

- Constantly covered in paint splatters, charcoal, glue, etc

- Hates baths, lives off dry shampoo

- He acts like a cat whenever he gets wet

- Takes great care of all his art supplies and will flip out if something is out of place

- Agreed to help Sandy paint his boat again the second time he was summoned but only if Sandy stopped changing what colour he wanted it to be after every new coat of paint (Sandy learnt his lesson the first time art MK was summoned)

- His advice is always "just kill them"

- Bites ankles

- Was almost arrested for vandalism (he ran away from the cops)

- Once painted a picture of Redson, who only said "this is pretty good" (it was in fact a genuine compliment, he loved it), and Artist almost killed him

- Analyzes his dreams as if he's the prophet predicting the end of the world

- Won't let anyone use his art supplies

- Growls at people

- Perfectionist

- Smells like paint fumes

- Love language is gift giving and words of affirmation

- If he's focusing on something really hard and something startles him, he'll jump in the air like a cat

- Was drawing at a park once and a bunch of kids were being annoying so he tripped one when it ran past him

- Collects concept art books from literally anything, movies, video games, TV shows, it doesn't even matter if he's played/watched them he just likes looking at the concept art

- Insomniac who 'cures' it with an unholy amount of caffeine

- Has drank paint water before, will do it again

- Extremely passive agressive

- MK yelled at him once for getting paint all over his bed

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to reach higher places when painting on walls and shit

(Had to use og MK has a base ref because the show did delivery MK dirty)

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson Paprika

- Loves straws, will only ever drink something if he uses a straw (I did this as a kid)

- Is constantly listening to music while doing deliveries and has absolutely passed his destination on multiple occasions

- Surprisingly witty

- Is the only MK who knows how to cook and genuinely loves it

- Has a little bit more chub than og MK does (duplicatnation did him dirty and I will never forgive them for his design)

- Has gotten into physical fights with rude customers before and would do it again

- Absolutely HATES eating fish

-His shoe laces are never tied, the amount of orders he's ruined because he tripped on his stupid laces is insane

- If he gets bored he'll just lay on the floor and do nothing

- Has accidentally eaten dog food before

- After a long day of delivering he'll pass out for hours at a time then wake up again at like 2am

- "Not to be rude, but.." proceeds to say the most disrespectful shit you've ever heard

- Either cannot keep a secret for the life of him, or will immediately forget the secret 5 mins after being told what it is, no in-between

- Him and the other clones accidently broke into a strangers house once, and he felt really bad so he cleaned the dishes before leaving (it was on the news)

- Will @ a specific person in a group chat instead of just dming them

- Sometimes eats out of the noodles he's delivering, no one has found out yet

- Smells like noodles

- Love language is Acts of service

- If he gets into a fight with someone he is fully willing and ready to resort to biting

- Saw Monkey King eat his own hair once and almost threw up

- Sometimes if a customer is being rude while ordering over the phone he'll purposely drive slow or take a longer route so their noodles are cold when they get them (og MK has told him to stop multiple times because he's scared of Pigsy thinking he's the reason they get any bad reviews)

- Has a Spotify Playlist for every possible occasion

- Gives out really good hugs and will hug people for really long periods

- Cries when he sees sad animal videos

- Can't whistle to save his life

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to hold more orders to get work done faster

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serotonins-stuff · 2 years ago

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"Bend over f'me?" | K.bakugo

~ slight nsfw

♡︎ Sypnosis: In which you ask your boyfriend for some fashion advice on Facetime but he can't handle the heat.

♡︎ F! Reader

♡︎ Mdni

♡︎ Aged up characters ofc

(Lowkey feel like Bakugo would actually give good fashion advice.)

Mina invited you to a night out with the girls but you had absolutely no idea what to wear. The only other option you had was to facetime your boyfriend Bakugo for some advice.

"How do I look Katsu?" you asked standing in front of the camera. Currently you were wearing the sleeveless black turtleneck that Bakugo chose. It was really short and squeezed you in all the right places. What Katsuki loved about it most is that it had an open back.

He didn't want to help you do this because he knew he wouldn't be able to conatin himself.

"Why are you so pretty woman?" He groaned in frustration causing you to giggle at him. "Do you really have t'go?"

You knew he was getting hot and bothered, you would help him through the screen if it wasn't going to result in you being late.

"Yes I do" you said pulling out your makeuo bag "What, do you have something better in mind?"

"Yeah I do, and it's better than some lame party" he scoffed.

"And what would that be?"

"For starters, you could come over to my place so we can watch a movie. Then halfway through, I'll put my hand on your thigh and we'll start making out and shit then suddenly,my face will be between your soft and sweet-."

"Kat" you warned him with a giggle "behave"

He shrugged his shoulders. "How can I when you're lookin so pretty?"

"Stop being a horndog and help me pick shoes." You wagged your finger at the screen.

"Black boots obliviously, and those nice see through stockings you've got"

You collected the items he listed and appeared in front of the camera one more time and he let out a satisfied hum.

"It's missin somethin" he raises a brow, looking intensely at his screen. "Lemme see the back?"

You do as you were told and turn around, facing your backside to the camera.

"Bend over f'me?"

"Kat you better no-"

"Stop yappin and do it, I wanna see something"

You sighed and shook your head with a scoff, bending over to reveal the black tights that you wore underneath.

"Baby what's the point of this" you shrugged your shoulders dramatically.

"Just wanna make sure no one will be able to sneak a peak" he took a bite of the snack he was eating, letting out a little huff of laughter "And I also just wanted to stare at your ass"

"Why am I suprised" you stood upright taking the phone over to your vanity table to ally makeup. "What lipstick color should I choose?"

"Red" he said with no hesitation at all. To you he was just helping you choose a lipstick color but to him it meant so much more. He so desperately wanted to see that red lipstick smugged all over his chest and shoulders while you beg him to go faster. Your beautiful sounds making his mind go haywire. Maybe he could even-

"You still there?" you cut off his lewd thoughts when you heard him go quiet and his breathing pattern changed.

"Yeah I am" he paused immediately, realizing that he had been palming himself through his sweatpants the whole time. The big bulge that formed was definitely hard for him to ignore. His balls were aching and it hurt to move them.

He'd have to take the longest shower on earth.

"Were you touching yourself just now?" You mused.

"And what if I was?"

"Ok here's a deal, after you fetch me from the party how about we go back to your place and have some fun?"

He whinned impatiently from the other side "Only if you promise not to get drunk"

"I promise"

"If sense the tinest bit of drunk from ya, I'm sending your ass to sleep got it?"

"I get it Katsuki"

He was still shifting uncomfortablly just watching you get ready, you hips swaying whenever you stood up and your bare back asking to be broken.

When you were finally done he couldn't help but let a sigh of relief escape him.

"I'll see you later ok?" You blew a kiss to him and he caught it

"Call me when you're done, and make to take your pepperspray" he said

He knew your were fully capable of taking care of yourself. Which is why he trusted you going out. He's seen you kick ass first hand and he wasn't disappointed.

"Don't miss me too much" you teased once more.

"Already am" he sighed and the call ended.

This was going to be a long night.

Thank you for the support!!

Requests are open!!

#my hero acedamia #imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #mha smut #serotonins stuff

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causticjuice · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 21 — Panties & Lingerie

Terzo x gn!reader

Notes: This is the last Kinktober fic that I had planned before starting (and funnily enough it was also the first one i finished, I cranked it out very quickly for me). I do have one more that I plan to post on the last day (it's a prompt from the first week) and potentially one more before that. There’s trans implications at the beginning, but it’s very vague.

Tags: smut (18+ MDNI), Terzo in panties, body worship, praise, handjob, anal fingering, sub Terzo

Word count: 2.1k

ao3

You’re on your bed, scrolling on your phone as Terzo is going through your closet. Who knows why, maybe he’s trying to judge your fashion sense, maybe put together outfits or is just being nosy. You notice he is now down to the drawer you haven’t touched in a very long time and before you manage to ask him to leave that stuff alone, he pulls out a pair of lacy periwinkle panties. He holds them up with both hands, looking with a plain expression, as if assessing the garment, but you see a hint of fascination in his eyes.

“That’s pretty,” he says.

“You can have ‘em. I don’t wear that kinda stuff anymore,” you reply while looking at your phone again, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“For… for me to wear?” he asks, more to himself than you, it seems, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

“Well try it on, then.” You give him a mild encouraging smile.

“What do you think?”

He emerges from the bathroom wearing nothing but the panties, his stride elegant but slightly apprehensive. They seem a bit small, the waistband arching down in the front and barely covering him up. His dark hair makes the color appear darker, shifting into more of a mauve. Once he’s close enough, he spins to show off the back. The cutframes his ass beautifully, accentuating the curves.

You set your phone to the side and lean forward, no longer resting against the headboard. Terzo is now facing you again, looking at you expectantly.

“You look very, very pretty,” you say, trying to make it abundantly clear that you mean it.

“Really?”

“Yes,” you almost cut him off in your enthusiasm.

Seeing him like that, so bashful and reluctant, wakes within you entirely new feelings. Since he’s always so confident and playful, you never thought he could be made so vulnerable with a piece of underwear. You assumed that he has done something like this before, but maybe not in front of anyone. Or maybe not in a casual, lazy weekend setting, not in the daylight. All you want to do right now is to reassure him of how beautiful he is, make sure he knows how you see him. So you get up from the bed and walk over to him.

“Sit down,” you motion to the edge of the bed with one hand while the other grazes his arm.

He obeys and looks up at you with curiosity. Nothing within him seems defiant or bratty. His legs are still pressed together as he sits.

You put your free hand on his cheek and the one on his arm drifts up to his shoulders and then down his chest, your gaze flitting back and forth between his eyes and body.

“You are so, so beautiful. Perfect.”

“Oh, stop-”

“No. I mean it,” this time you really cut him off.

You nudge his legs with your knee and he spreads them slowly, getting the hint. You get down on your knees and grasp his thighs to move them to your desired position and stabilize yourself. As your hands slide up, you marvel at every hair, the patterns they make, the bends and swirls and waves. When your eyes reach his crotch, you notice the panties look absolutely sinful on him. His balls are spilling out the sides, the flimsy strip of cloth doing nothing to contain them. His cock is already semi-hard, tip threatening to peek out of the top.

You ghost your fingertips over the fabric starting at the hip and following the bottom edge. You look up at him and find his eyes boring into you. He has his arms behind him, propping himself up.

“They look perfect on you. Like they were made for you to wear. My gorgeous Terzo.”

He lets out a quiet gasp at your words and his lips stay parted, breaths growing shallow.

You keep moving your fingers along the seam. The moment you’re about to reach his shaft, he tenses up, but you don’t react. You don’t pause or look up. Instead, you keep moving, entranced in reverent worship. Your light touch tickles down his length and to his balls as his muscles twitch under your other hand. Once you cannot reach any further, you look up again and reach towards his chest to press his torso down.

“Lie back and scoot up for me. That’s it, good boy.”

As he adjusts according to your guidance, he never breaks eye contact, his eyes still wide but relaxed.

When you have him where you want him, you sit between his legs and reach under his knees to lift his legs up. The more of him that gets revealed to you, the more you are in awe. The patterns of the lace over the various shades of his skin and hair create the most beautiful painting, abstract and ethereal. Viewed from a distance, enough is obscured to entice, while up close nothing is left to the imagination.

You get back to your task of tracing the edge of the garment, starting where you left off. You move down his ass and feel every bit you can through the fabric. Any curve or bump, a picture of perfection to you. Once you are back to the hip where you started, you reach up the front, pressing your hand more firmly on his cock now. His jolt and gasp break you out of your trance, but you don’t let it show. You let your gaze glide over his body, up his happy trail, over his pierced nipples and finally reaching his face. His eyes are half lidded and mouth open a little more now.

“You’ve been so good for me. Such a pretty doll, and so easy to pose. I’d say you deserve a reward now, hm?” you say while palming him through the panties.

His whine makes it clear that he does indeed want a reward, but has apparently been left speechless.

Over the time it took you to admire him from all angles, his erection has grown bigger to the extent that his tip is now fully above the waistband, red and leaking. And as you work his still covered length, it only grows redder and leaks even more. You squeeze and stroke and press as best you can without taking the pretty little thing off. But finally, you decide it’s time to move on and start to get up from the bed. You see his head dart up when he hears the creak the bed makes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a second, my sweet prince,” you reassure him as you walk over to the nightstand. You pull out the lube from the drawer and hold it up to your eyes, noting that it’s probably time to get a refill.

As you return to your position on the bed, you make a disappointed expression to continue the charade.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s time to take off this fashionable item you’ve got on. Is that alright, beautiful?” you tease with a theatrical frown.

“Yes! Yes, please,” he moans, voice breaking in the middle.

“Oh, so polite. You’re just as stunning without it, though. Always so stunning.”

Your fingers hook onto the garment at either side of Terzo’s hips, lingering for a moment to feel his skin, and then sliding it down his legs, which he stretches out in front of you. Once the panties are off, you hold his ankles together like that with one hand to marvel at the shape. Such lovely curves made by his toned calves and thighs. The backs of the knees so delicate with the light hair and soft skin. You trace over it with the thumb of your free hand and feel him shudder below you.

“What is it? Is the doll ticklish?” you ask, spreading his legs to get a look at his face.

“Not really… I just expected the touch somewhere else,” he answers with a hint of bewilderment.

“But you look so perfect everywhere. I can’t miss the opportunity to admire every little bit.”

The praise that at first seemed to make him embarrassed now only adds fuel to the fire between his legs. His eyes fall closed into a pained frown and bottom lip gets pulled between his teeth, already red from before when you weren’t looking.

He is now spread in front of you again and you reckon you should get back to the task at hand. You squeeze some lube on your fingers and rub them together to warm it up and spread it around. Your eyes are locked on his face as you reach down to his taint and rub up and down gently. His mouth falls open immediately, quick exhales following shortly. You slowly inch closer to his asshole and stroke with the same pressure.

“P- Per favore-” his eyes fall open with the brows still knitted tightly.

“Hm?” you raise your eyebrows, feigning curiosity.

“Please, can you just f- Oh!” he yelps at a change in your movement.

“Ah, I see. You want me to fuck you with my fingers? Is that it, pretty thing?”

“Sì! Please do!”

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You circle his rim with your finger and push in. As you do, his moan rings out in the room. You begin to move slowly inside of him, exploring the places you’ve felt so many times before. His tight hole squeezes your finger while you work him to get ready for the second. It doesn’t take long though, and soon enough you are slipping another finger in with the first. Once they’re both in, you move to press on his prostate which makes him writhe under you. He unravels from your touch, head thrown back and hands gripping at the sheets.

“I’m sorry if you want your hole filled all the way up, my pretty doll. Today, I need to feel you come undone from just my hands.”

As you say that, you take his cock in your free hand and stroke in time with your fingers in his ass. Your hand dances over the head, gathering up his precum to mix with the lube when you move along his length. The fingers inside of him curl to prod at his most sensitive area. You gradually increase the speed and listen to his moans and gasps. His melodic voice makes the lascivious noises sound like an opera to you. His eyes are pressed shut with curved eyelashes poking out from the slits. You can tell he’s almost reached his peak, but you have one more thing in mind.

“Look at me,” you command while slowing down your movements.

His eyes dart open and look at you pleadingly.

“You're the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” you purr and speed up your hands again, “Say it.”

He whimpers in response.

“Say that you’re beautiful.”

“I- Ah, fuck! I’m beautiful!” he screams as ropes of cum shoot onto his belly.

You keep going as his orgasm rips through him until his body goes limp. The look he gives you once his eyes open again is of such deep devotion that it almost makes you look away. But you keep your gaze locked on his, trying to return the same level of affection back to him as you pull out of him. He is a complete mess, his spend covering his torso, hair disheveled, lips red and puffy. You can’t help running your hands over his chest, spreading his release through the hair and caressing his nipples, the glint of the metal piercings catching your eye.

“You did so, so well. You are perfect. And always will be. Don’t forget it.”

“Thank you…” he replies in between breaths, a shy smile gracing his lips.

“It’s not a compliment. Just the truth. I’ll be back in a minute, all right, doll?” He nods.

You go in the bathroom to get something to clean him up with. When you come back, you once again pay attention to every little detail on his body. Every little mole, scar, bump, wrinkle, hair. Truly worthy of awe. You gently kiss anything that you think might make him self conscious, trying to show him that it shouldn’t. Once you’re done, you lie down next to him and guide his head to your shoulder.

“Ti amo, tesoro,” he whispers, his voice quivering.

“I love you too, Terzo,” you pull him closer to you and feel the spot where his face is resting get a little damp. “You can go through my old clothes any time you want.”

He huffs in amusement and wraps his arm around you.

#my fic #smut #mdni #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #ghost band smut #ghost band fanfiction

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thetragicallynerdy · 2 years ago

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So for NYE some pals and I had a slideshow party (where each person puts together a 5-10 minute slideshow presentation on whatever topic they want and we all present) and the topic I chose for mine was The Top Ten Chuck Tingle Books I Want To Read. I said I would share it here if this is the topic I went with, out of some other fun options like "why peanut butter should be in s'mores: I am right and all of you are wrong", "paw patrol and the patriarchy" and "top ten funniest pride clothing i've found online." The Tingler topic won, so without further ado, here u go pals:

The Top Ten Chuck Tingle Books I Want To Read, by Hank - a NYE Presentation

(Be warned this is a long post, all slides have IDs for accessibility)

[ID: The title slide of my slideshow which reads: The Top Ten Chuck Tingle Books I Want To Read: A Definitive Ranking based on Title, Cover Art, and Vibes alone, By Hank. The slideshow background, called "couture," is a black background with a fancy white overlay embellished with different kinds of patterns. It gives a sense of fashion and flair for the dramatic. It is the same background for every slide. End ID.]

Number Ten - Eaten Right by the Mysterious S Symbol Everyone Used to Draw.

[ID: a slide with the cover of the Chuck Tingle book listed above. The cover shows a curvy woman in underwear, bra, and open shirt smiling and touching her hair. Beside her is a neon teal "S" symbol that was popular in the early 2000s, made by drawing 6 lines and connecting them. Text on the slide reads:

I can’t stop laughing about the S symbol

That’s it that’s pretty much the entire reason it’s on here

(Also the model is v cute)

End ID.]

Number Nine - Taken by the Gay Unicorn Biker.

[ID: another slide, with book cover and text. The cover shows a very muscle-y man wearing low-cut jeans and an open leather jacket, with a unicorn wearing leather and riding a motorcyle behind it. The book cover has a sepia tone. Text on the slide reads:

Very here for the gay unicorn biker

How does a unicorn bike when it only has hooves? Unclear

The sepia tone makes this seem like it’s gonna be gritty in a fun way

End ID.]

Number Eight - The Unicorn Them Fatale Pounds My Non-Binary Butt Mysteriously

[ID: another similar slide. The book cover on it shows a non-binary person wearing black skinny jeans and a black vest and thin black choker sitting on a bar stool. Behind them stands a pink anthropomorphic unicorn wearing shiny leather pants and a black long sleeve crop top. The cover gives off noir vibes, while simultaneously giving off goth or emo vibes. Text on the slide reads:

Very here for non-binary smut

Also very here for this goth/emo unicorn

Them fatale is a fucking great pun

End ID.]

Number Seven - Glazed by the Gay Living Donuts

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a shirtless man looking over his shoulder seductively. He is surrounded by glazed donuts, with a white kitchen in the background. Text on the slide reads:

I am but a simple person who likes donuts a lot

The donuts look very tasty

The use of a donut in the word donut is A++

I want to know if the sex gets more creative than just fucking a donut hole (I suspect it will, because it’s Chuck Tingle)

End ID.]

Number Six - My Dungeon Master Is a T-Rex Rules Lawyer But Fortunately I Rolled A Crit On The Pound My Butt Check

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a man wearing a kilt, wide leather belt, and metal pauldron extending to armour over his left arm. He is otherwise shirtless, and smiles while giving a thumbs up. Behind him is an anthropomorphic dinosaur wearing a business suit. They stand in an office. Text on the slide reads:

As a dungeon master this is hilarious

SO curious about the contrasting costumes, and whether or not they also LARP

Is the rules-lawyer T-Rex also an actual lawyer?? Read on to find out??

End ID.]

Number Five - I Freed This Handsome Cargo Ship From The Suez Canal But Now He's Stuck In My Butt

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a shirtless man with a very hairy chest wearing boxers and standing with one hand on his chin and the other on his hip. Behind him is a photo of the Ever Given cargo ship, with a face photoshopped onto the front of the ship. Text on the slide reads:

The Ever Given my beloved

Kind of in love with the face just stuck on the front of the ship

Very curious about the plot lines

That dude’s chest hair is a+++

End ID.]

Number Four - Moby Butt

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a woman wearing a bar maid style period clothing of dress with a tight bodice over a lacy white off the shoulder shirt, as well as a black choker necklace and an eye patch. She crosses her arms and looks coolly at the camera. Behind her is a scene of a stormy ocean. Floating in the water is a butt that has a smiling face photoshopped onto it. Text on the slide reads:

This is a GREAT bodice ripper type cover – just look at her dress! And her eye patch! And the stormy seas!

It legitimately took me a while to realize there was a butt in the seas but it looks very happy

I’ve never read Moby Dick but what better way to start than with a lesbian smut parody

End ID.]

Number Three - Canada Pounds My Butt and Covers My Pancakes with Real Maple Syrup in an Erotic Way also it is Delicious

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a shirtless man who has a bodybuilder physique standing in front of a road intersection in what looks like the Canadian prairies. A map of Canada covered with the red and white Canadian flag, but with a smiling face photoshopped over where the maple leaf in the flag should be, floats behind him in the sky. Text on the slide reads:

As a Canadian I feel contractually obligated to want to read this

Also I love that it’s just a map of Canada with a face

Here for the prairie setting

Also for the maple syrup and pancakes lets be real

Canada deserves all the gay sex

End ID.]

Number Two - Bisexual Polyhedral Role-Playing Dice Orgy

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a shirtless man with washboard abs standing in a living room with white walls and white furniture. He has his hands on his hips and looks off to the side with a somewhat disintrested expression. Floating around him are a set of seven blue polyhedral roleplaying dice. Each dice has been photoshopped to have a human face on it. Text on the slide reads:

Super curious about how dice fuck without any body parts other than faces

The dice all look remarkably horny even if the young man does not

Love me some bi representation

I got bi pride dice for Christmas and now I will imagine they are in this book

End ID.]

Number One - A Butt In the Mist: Stirred to the core of my bodice by the Duchess Triceratops of Helena

[ID: another slide. The book cover shows a woman in a slutty steampunk costume consisting of underwear, garter belts, a leather corset vest top, an ascott, white gloves, a top hat, goggles, and a cane. She stands beside an anthropomorphic triceratops wearing a full-length period gown with puffy sleeves. In the background is what looks like a castle in the mist. Text on the slide reads:

The costuming is fantastic

It gives very steampunk vibes which I’m into

Feels like there will be good plot and romance and intrigue along with the smut

Who doesn’t love dinosaurs?? Especially dinosaurs in costume??

End ID.]

And last but not least - Honourable Mentions

[ID: a slide showing three Chuck Tingle book covers, with no text besides the title "Honourable Mentions." The books are:

My Macaroni and Cheese is a Lesbian and also she is my laywer, which shows a woman in lingerie posing beside a large bowl of macaroni and cheese that has a human face photoshopped on it.

Pounded by the realization that Chuck Tingle's erotic works are a singular piece of art that skewers conservative fears of moral decay by re-purposing them as the promise of a sex-positive utopia. It shows a shirtless buff man with a neutral facial expression standing beside a book that has a bearded face photoshopped on the cover.

Petrichor is a lesbian and she gets me off in a cozy way during a much needed rainstorm. It shows a woman in white underwear, ribbed crop top sweater, and stockings beside a large raindrop photoshopped with a smiling face on it.

End ID.]

Honourable mentions chosen because I love Mac and Cheese, Petrichor is one of my favourite words, and also because the one about his erotic works speaks deeply to me as someone who also sometimes writes smut.

For those curious about my ranking system - I read through the entirety of Chuck Tingle's works on Goodreads, picked the ones the spoke to me the most, and then loosely ranked them based on what I'd want to read first. I didn't go with the more meta or political parody ones, because while I love them, they're not what I'd look for in smut.

Thank you for attending my presentation, go forth and read all the smut

#chuck tingle #tinglers #slideshow #presentation #long post #described

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gothamslostboy · 2 years ago

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The Lost Boys

Sexuality HC

These are my personal opinions, we’re probably not going to agree on everything and that’s ok! You can comment your opinions below as long as you’re not a dick about it :]

NOTE: I think after turning most vampires don’t gaf about gender and that will play into my hc

NOTE 2: the F_/M_ is for how you present. If you’re a guy who dresses feminine you fall into F, same for masculine girls. I did this bc I wanted to include Non binary ppl but it felt weird adding a 3rd gender percentage bc enby ppl don’t have a gender . So to clarify: the percentage is not gender, it is clothing preference

NOTE 3: yes I know it was the 80s. I. Don’t. Care. Gay ppl existed in the 80s and the whole movie has gay undertones so sush.

David

I originally said he was bi in this post bc I didn’t want ppl mad at me but imma be brave now

Gay asf

Likes seeing S/O in feminine clothes though

I know I said vamps don’t care after turning but every rule has an exception

F65/M35

Dwayne

F70/M30

Paul

Pan

No preference here, gender or clothing,just personality

He does like matching with his S/O so get him something in the same color or pattern

Marko

Does have a male preference though

Him and Paul definitely fuck

F25/M75

Star

Straight

Has experimented and decided it’s not her thing

Very supportive

F50/M50

Her boyfriend wants to wear a skirt? She’ll buy matching ones!

He wants makeup? Let her teach him!

Earrings? We saw in the movie she wants to do it!

Probably pierced all the boys ears

She doesn’t care how he dresses, as long as he doesn’t tell her how to dress either

Michael

He’s unsure but when asked will say bi

He’s still trying to come to terms with not being straight so he prefers S/O wearing more feminine things

(David rn: 💃🏼💃🏼💃🏼)

F82/M18

Lucy

Straight

Supports everyone

Doesn’t understand why people care about who others date

F6/M94

Loves a man in a nice suit

Still nice if he wants to try typically feminine things

Just doesn’t seek out more feminine men

Max

Straight

One of the vampires who DO care

Like too much caring

Weirdly insecure and kills men who hit on him:[

Eats primarily female victims

Only supports if it’s one of his pack

More supportive of the boys straight interest though

The boys don’t give a fuck though and if they are dating a guy will purposely show more affection in front of him

F100/M0 (he definitely still thinks women shouldn’t wear pants I’m sorry but he’s old af)

Grandpa Emerson

Straight

He used to be a homophobe (he was raised in a very homophobic time)

Lucy has talked to him about being supportive since she was a teen

Finally gets that it doesn’t affect him and supports

F50/M50

She can wear whatever she wants as long as she’s happy

Sam

I can’t decide if he’s aroace or not bc he’s still early teen years, and he was more focused on stopping his brother from becoming a vampire then finding a date

If he is interested in anyone, it’s dudes

He had that poster in his room, and was making fun of Michael for chasing a girl

He also has more of a fashion sense then most men of the 80s (I’m not saying having a fashion sense makes you gay, I’m saying if writers in the 80s wanted to have a gay character w/o saying he’s gay, this is probably a trait they’d give him)

F20/M80

He feels like feminine clothing would “draw too much attention”

Like the mf doesn’t wear the most attention seeking clothing in Santa Carla

Alan

Bi? at most

Huge fem preference

F70/M30

I don’t think he’d like completely girly girls

But still wants a partner how dresses nice

He thinks everyone looks good in long, loose skirts and crop tops regardless of gender

Edgar

Straight as a ruler

Supports, but doesn’t really get it

If Sam came out to him he would probably ask if Sam was into him, but genuinely didn’t mean to be offensive

He just doesn’t know why he needs to know

F40/M60

He’s ok w/ a girl who dresses up sometimes, but if you’re vampire hunting with him you need to be able to move fast, maybe leave the dress or skirt for another time

Yes I put the younger 3 teens here. I’m only doing the bc I think at 14 you are aware of your preference, I know I was many ppl I know were

#the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #the lost boys #the lost boys max #the lost boys star #the lost boys david #the lost boys Lucy #the lost boys michael #the lost boys grandpa emerson #tlb 1987 #tlb #the lost boys hc #the lost boys 1987 #glb tlb

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ridestomars · 2 years ago

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i think that can't buy me love!eddie would have absolutely no sense of fashion before he gets to know you. i mean, he might look like the coolest guy on earth with his effortless "i just woke up and threw whatever on my body" look, which consisted of the same worn-out jacket every day and the weirdest mismatched everything (he usually never wore complimentary socks). so of course, one of the first things you made very clear once you made the fake dating deal was that you'd take him shopping for better clothes and help him figure out the best ways to style a leather jacket – because you simply couldn't stand the way he'd put a fucking red sweater underneath the jacket in the cold.

the goal wasn't really to change his whole style (what's the appeal of dressing eddie in preppy clothes? none!), but to buy new clothes that would fit into his aesthetic and would be actually wearable together (as in, your eyes wouldn't bleed by looking at the terrible mismatched patterns). and that's why you spent a whole afternoon visiting every single store in starcourt, exhaustively searching for the most metal-looking pieces and making him try on every single item he even slightly looked at. in the end, you both walked out of the mall with, at least, 10 bags full of new clothes for eddie: reebok sneakers, new leather jackets and dio and metallica shirts, jeans vests, random patches, jeans... you name it! you guys even stopped at a small tattoo shop to pierce eddie's ear; just because he saw this really cool lighting bolt earring and you insisted that he should buy it.

you also promised to teach him how to put on eyeliner without smudging it too much, and to paint his nails black as soon as you got to his trailer that night; which is precisely why you bought him a bunch of cosmetics, including glittery dark eyeshadows and blush... "you know, for when you play at the hideout!".

but i totally can see you guys swapping rings on a daily basis!! so don't be surprised if you see eddie walking around with a blue crystal ring on his pinkie one day because you probably stole one of his silver skull rings and started wearing it on your thumb.

and let me tell you: this boy would stop you every day on your way to class (because he is always late) to ask you if you liked his outfit. he would always announce that "i picked it myself!" with the most dopey smile on his face, while giving you a little spin. in the beginning, you would always change some small detail, like rolling up his sleeves or cuffing his jeans, but he started to get the hang of it and by the end of the month, eddie only stopped you because he wants you to tell him he did a good job <3 because he knows he did and just wants to hear you say it <3

this is for @oncasette <3333333

#liv writes #not proofread #i literally do not know how to use tumblr #can't buy me love!au #eddie munson x reader #i feel like i haven't written something in ages #and it probably shows #liv talks about eddie

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rommahh · 3 years ago

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Better

Word Count: 3.9K

Pairing: Buckybarnesxfem!reader

{This is for @metalbuckaroo's challenge. I had this brewing for a minute but college has got in a chokehold. I chose prompt #30 from the given prompt list. I hope y'all like this read. Love, R}

Bucky trailed behind Y/N as she ignored his calls. Her boots clicked loudly in the small hallway as she rushed towards their shared apartment. Her keys shook in her hand, body tense with anxiety and anger.

Bucky reached her at the door, his hands loosely gripping her arms. Y/N shoved the door open, her body snapping away from his. Y/N haphazardly throws her keys in the small bowl that sat on the hallway side table.

Her chest heaved with deep breaths as she tried to remain calm.

“Y/N please, what is going on? Why are you so mad?” Bucky questioned, slamming the door behind him as his own frustrations started to catch up with him.

“I'm going to bed.” Is all she said to him without even meeting his eyes. She was quick to enter her room and lock the door before he could say anymore. Bucky stood behind her door in confusion. His body still tingled with the lasting effects of the shots he took hours prior.

Sitting on your bed, Y/N finally released. Her shoulders dropped, her body hunching over itself as the tears started flowing.

Y/N had been looking for Bucky for what felt like hours. He was her ride back to the apartment and having been at this party for over four hours- she was exhausted. There was a twinge of disappointment that lingered in her caused by Bucky's disappearance. He invited her to this party tonight but quickly left her to her own devices the moment the both of them walked through the frat’s doors.

The house was mainly empty except for the few lingering bodies that were drunkenly wandering around. She climbed up the stairs that lead to a common room on the second floor. Y/N’s cute white go-go boots were tight on your feet, making her wince at every step. Fashion was a moment type thing, not a four hour long excursion.

Y/N heard a group of voices leading from the common room once you reached the top of the stairs. She listened out waiting to see if she could hear Bucky’s voice before walking through the doors of the common room.

“I don't know why you hang out with that girl Bucky.” Her ears perked at his name. Y/N almost walked through the door but she took a step back to listen to what they were saying.

“Yeah, shes fucking weird.” The group laughed. “I mean look at how she dressed tonight. She’s wearing a costume.”

Y/N looked down at her 80’s inspired dress with a frown. She thought she looked cute tonight, Bucky said she looked cute. She couldn't stop blushing after she heard his words.

“She’s a freak barnes. All she does is follow you around. Are you sure you guys aren't dating?” One of the boys asked with a chuckle. No one said her name yet but she knew they were talking about her. She could tell.

“Y/N’s not that bad. She just doesn't have any friends. I don't like her like that, not my type. She's got that weird anxiety thing.” Bucky's voice finally sounded out from the group. Y/N heart hurt hearing his words. Weird anxiety thing?

“Yeah, making her a freak. So you're just friends with her out of pity? Are you at least getting community service hours?” The group laughed again, Bucky's deep laugh standing out to Y/N.

“You have a lot of strength for a man who's not getting any ass from the girl he's keeping company with. Shes weird as fuck but her body is still bangin. Have you ever copped a feel of her tits? I would hang out with the loser if I got to fuck her too.” Someone commented. Y/N felt bile rise in her throat. She could feel a panic attack approaching having heard the sexual comments about her body. She stepped out from around the wall into the common room. All eyes snapped up to her, some eyes widening in shock. Bucky just looked up, not catching on that his roommate may have heard the horrid words said about her.

“I-im ready to go home, Bucky.” She hadn't looked up from where her feet were rooted on the stained wood floors. Bucky slowly wobbled up from his seat. The rest of the guys watching quietly, some snickering at Bucky's submissiveness.

“Here sweets, you're gonna have to drive.” Bucky says handing his keys over to Y/N. Without looking at him, she snatches the keys from his hands and quickly retreats to his car. Bucky stumbles behind her confused by her attitude.

Y/N walked to Bucky’s car, arms covering whatever they could cover on her body. Her mind telling her she was unsafe, her anxiety telling her even worse things.

Bucky eyes burned from the headache he had. He felt physically ill as he woke up from the living room couch. Last night's activities blur in his mind, no clear memories presenting themselves. He sits up to rest his forearms on his knees trying to calm his bubbling stomach.

The first thing he notices as he comes to his senses is the lack of Y/N’s noise. Normally the small apartment would be filled with the sounds of her sunday playlist as she cleans about. He also doesn't smell her extra dark and strong coffee that she only makes for sundays. He doesnt smell her out of the can cinnamon rolls either that she would normally wake him up with on a small tray with said coffee.

He finds it odd that her presence is lacking in the apartment. Standing, he makes his way over to her room knocking on it slightly. He hears shuffling from the other side but no one comes to open the door.

“Hey sweets, everything ok?” He knocks again to gain her attention.

“I-Im fine Bucky, please go away.” She stutters out to Bucky. Bucky is shocked by her statement not used to being pushed away by her.

“Oh ok, just let me know if you need anything.” He says quietly.

Y/N remained the same way over the next few days. She rarely came out of her room when she was in the apartment leaving Bucky on his own. She stopped making him meals out of kindness or filling up his canisters of water for workouts. She stopped baking him treats as midday pick me ups. She didnt wait for him to get out of classes so they could gossip about what was going on on campus. She didnt bother him at all.

Bucky felt uneasy about Y/N’s silence. He was hurt by her sudden disappearance. Hurt that she could just ghost him without any reason. But there was a reason, Bucky just didnt remember.

Y/N sluggishly walked into the apartment after taking an extensive exam in one of her classes. She tried to walk quietly throughout the apartment to not catch the attention of Bucky. She walks softly on her feet close to the opening of the kitchen.

“Hey.” A quiet voice makes Y/N jump in her spot. Her mission of going unnoticed failed. Bucky leans against the kitchen counter that is parallel to the opening of the kitchen. His feet are crossed in front of him, hands holding a cup of tea.

“Hi.” Her tone matches his. She turns her body to face his, hands fidgeting with each other. She slightly moved from foot to foot, a trait that had been acquired out of nerves. Bucky recognized her tic, his heart constricting at the thought that he might have done something to cause it.

“Y/N, please, what's going on?” Bucky can see that she's not wearing one of her normal outfits that are adorned in bright colors and fun patterns. Instead, her body is covered in a boring sweater that hides most of her body. She wears a large pair of jeans underneath, a belt tightly bounding it to her body.

“Nothing Bucky.” She dismisses. Bucky feels his anger peak. A range of emotion he tried to hide away breaching over its point. He missed his best friend beyond belief and all she could give was a few words.

“It's not nothing Y/N!” He snaps slamming his mug of tea on the counter. Y/N flinches at the sound. Her hands start to shake, not out of fear of Bucky but from unwarranted anxiousness. “I've given you your space but its killing me. I miss you Y/N. I dont get what happened?”

Y/N feels her eyes well up with tears.

“You hurt me Bucky.” It was Bucky’s turn to flinch hearing her words. He hurt her?

“I don't know what I did though.” His voice sounded childlike as he whined.

“At the party, you let your friends talk poorly about me. You-you let them call me a freak and-and weird. They made fun of my clothes and said you were hanging out with me out of pity and you just sat there and laughed James!” Her voice rose with every word. Bits and pieces of that night float around in his head. He can slightly remember the conversation but nothing is clearly showing in his head.

“I'm sorry they said that Y/N but you know that's not true. We both know our relationship, I don't know why you're letting them get to you.”

“They talked about my anxiety. You talked about my anxiety!”

“That's it? That's why you're not talking to me?” He exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.

“You let them sexualize me!” The kitchen filled with an uncomfortable silence. Bucky’s exterior softened.

“What?” His tone was drastically softer than it was earlier.

“You just sat and listened to them as they talked about my body. They talked about my boobs and if youve had sex with me and you said nothing. They said that they would hang with the loser if they could fuck me...How could you let them say that about me?” Y/N whimpered. Her hands cradled her face as she sobbed. Bucky saw the way her chest heaved with each sob, tears forming in his own eyes.

“I didn't know. I wouldn't have let them say those things sober. You have to know that.” He almost fell to his knees pleading for her forgiveness.

“You even said you wouldn't date me. I know its stupid but I thought you liked me back. You told me you loved me. You've taken me out on dates. You've kissed me for goodness sake!”

“I know and I'm sorry. I do like you, I don't know why I said that. I like you so much.” His knees buckled slightly but he held his ground.

“Obviously you dont Bucky. We should just stay away from each other from now on and I won't be renewing my leasing contract at the end of the semester.” She finalizes. Buckys whispers a small no in protest. “You really hurt me, Bucky. I would never let anyone slander you. I respect you too much to allow for someone else to disrespect you.”

With that being said, she gave Bucky one last look over before walking away. Bucky was knocked out of his thoughts at the sound of her door slamming shut and the lock being secured.

Bucky sat on the kitchen floor, the cold tile seeping through his pants to chill his legs. His face adorned with a frown, tears sliding down his warm cheeks. Y/N was his best friend and he ruined it by being a shitty person. He knows he should have defended her, defended their relationship.

Bucky’s rolly chair was his only source of entertainment at his desk in the lobby of the admissions office. Today was a slow day. There were only a few students who came in asking for help finding buildings or looking for the financial aid office. Some high school student came in for tours but his coworkers beat him to doing tours so here he was stuck in the quiet office. He had already stolen a large amount of guest snacks, a cold bottle of tea and a sugar cookie with the school's logo on it.

His chair spinning activities came to a halt when he heard the front door open with a small jingle sounding from it. He took a moment to let the dizziness fade away before he looked up. Bucky felt his breath stop in his throat.

There stood a girl with overalls and a bright colored top. She wore dark green converse, high tops, with frilly socks that peeked from the top. She had large glasses that framed her face perfectly. She was looking around the office, eyes wide with wonder. Her eyes finally met Bucky's, making a large smile appear on her face.

“Hi!” She exclaimed walking up to Bucky’s desk.

“Hey, what can I help you with today?” Bucky asked cooly.

“I just transferred here and I was wondering if you knew where I could apply for on campus jobs?” She placed her hands on top of the counter of Bucky’s desk. He admired her baby blue acrylics that had white flowers on them.

“Oh um, the admissions office is hiring. We do all of the tours for highschool students, or package and mail acceptance letters. Sometimes we plan scholarship events. It's an easy pay type of job. I just sit here and do homework my whole shift.” Bucky answers. “What's your name so I can get my boss to contact you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Bucky quickly scribbled your name on a post it note and stuck it to his laptop as a reminder. “Do you really like this job or are you just trying to pull me in?” She jests with a small smile on her face.

“I mean it's a decent job but im sure with you working here it would make it ten times prettier.” Bucky smirked at the giggle that escaped Y/N. He wasn't normally a flirt but he couldn't help himself with this one.

“Oh really? How many times have you said that line to a girl?” Bucky put a hand to his chest in a fake offense.

“You think too low of me Y/N. I saved that one for the prettiest girl to walk through the door.”

“Hmm, ok. I'll believe it only because my ego needs this boost. Hey, you never told me your name. How am I supposed to write about this encounter in my journal if I don't have your name?”

“My name is James but I prefer if people just call me Bucky. Short for Buchanon, I know it's weird.” Bucky leans back in his chair, arms crossed. He can see her eyes checking out the way his muscles flex underneath his long sleeve shirt. He may have purposefully flexed a little extra for show.

“No, I love it. I dont think ive ever met a Bucky.” She counters. She leans forward, placing her elbows on the counter, her chest pressed against the front of the counter.

“Well I'm glad I'm your first Bucky.” He jokes with a small smile on his face. There was a small moment of silence shared between the two as they just looked at each other. Bucky couldn't help but think about how cute she was as Y/N thought the same thing.

“Oh gosh, I'm probably holding you up from your work.” She snaps out of her little spell rolling her eyes at herself. “I should get going.”

Bucky frowned at the idea of her leave, wanting nothing more than to continue talking to the new girl.

“Right, of course. Maybe I could get your number...so I can notify you about the job.” Bucky proposes. Y/N raises one eyebrow in question, a knowing smile placed on her lips.

“Sure thing bucky.” He hands her a pen and post it for her number. “I wouldn't be opposed to you using this number for things other than work too.” She suggested. She signed her name on the post it note ending it with a small heart.

“I will definitely take you up on that offer. No take backs though when I start sending you random shit.” She giggled, leaning up from her spot. Bucky basked at the sweet sound. He stood up to meet her on the other side of the desk.

“Well Bucky, it was lovely to meet you.” She stuck her hand out for him to shake, he reciprocated the action. Her hands were soft and warm, he thought. She gave him one last smile before walking away.

It was warm outside on the quad as Bucky sat by himself. He sat at the table that would normally be occupied by Y/N and him. Y/N would bring lunch- made by her. Anytime Bucky would try to help her by making lunch she would kick him out of the kitchen. Today, Bucky sat by himself, with no hand made lunch. He had a greasy bag of french fries and a large coke. He planned on eating his sorrows away.

“Hey Bucky!” A voice yelled out to him. Looking up from his fries, Bucky looked towards the sound that broke him out of his fries excursion. Tanner and Logan, his friends from the party, came walking over to him. They both sat down, throwing their lunch onto the table.

“Where's Ms. weirdo?” Tanner asks, mouth full of food. Bucky grimaced at Tanner's manners. He also felt the anger he should have felt on Saturday bloom in his chest.

“She's not weird.” Bucky snapped, fists tightening in his lap. Tanner scoffed, Logan laughing along with him.

“Says you. She is fucking weird. Did you finally get some from her or something? Defending her and shit.” Logan clapped Tanner on his back agreeing with him. “Shit, good for you dude. I would have fucked her a while ago. Probably would have kept her face down so I wouldn't have to see her-”

Before Tanner could finish his sentence, he was thrown from his seat from the powerful punch being landed on his jaw. His feet flew from where he was sitting, landing on his back with a heavy thud.

“Dude what the fuck?” Tanner stood wiping his face from the blood that started to trickle down from his bloody eyebrow. Bucky had never felt anger like this before. His heart was racing, his breathing labored. His cheeks were red and warm, eyebrows turned down.

“No, you don't get to make fun of her and make sexual comments about her.” Bucky snarled. Tanner rolled his eyes, walking closer to Bucky.

“Oh fuck off with that! You didn't defend her this hard on saturday.” Tanner's mistake after his words was shoving Bucky's shoulders back. Bucky reacted quickly by shoving Tanner with even more force.

Tanner threw a punch to Bucky’s jaw, making his head fly back. Bucky tackled Tanner to the ground, throwing punches left and right. Tanner fought back, hands flying landing punches wherever he could land them.

Logan was able to pull Bucky off of Tanner, warning the two that campus police would arrest them if they were caught. Both boys stared at each other fuming. Bucky snatched his trash and his backpack up, the scowl never leaving his face.

“If I ever see you looking or talking to Y/N, I will bash your face in.” Bucky growled.

Y/N felt better today. She found the strength to wear a cute outfit versus the oversized clothes she had been wearing prior out of fear. She didn't want anyone to look at her in any harmful way. She wanted to wear her cute outfits that were sometimes form fitting and short. She liked to wear her cute period pieces that had her own twist on them. She spent many years hating her body and the way she looked. She deserved to feel cute without thinking she is at fault for being sexualized and poorly treated.

She whipped out one of her favorite outfits today, loving the way it fit on her body making her feel confident. Sitting at the front desk of the admissions office, her feet propped up on the desk. Her shift was going by slowly, no one needing assistance this late in the day.

The door burst open making Y/N jump from her seat. She stood up shocked to see Bucky walk in with a huff. He wasn't supposed to work today but here he was. Y/N gasped looking at his cut lip and bruising eye.

“Bucky, what happened?” She maneuvered her way around the desk to stand in front of the beat up boy. She placed both of her hands on his cheeks to examine his injuries. He moved his face away from her tears brimming his eyes.

“I'm sorry Y/N. I'm really sorry. I should have protected you from them. I should've told them not to speak about you that way. You are more than some eye candy for men to act disgusting towards. You are beautiful and eclectic. You have a brilliant mind that shines brighter than anyone elses on this campus.” He spoke to her softly.

“I don't understand Bucky. What made you have this change of heart? You didn't give two shits about me last weekend.” She crossed her arms defensively.

“I know and I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe it was the alcohol but that's no excuse. I love you. I love all of you. You're not weird. You're your own person and I love everything about you. You do so much for me and I feel like shit for not doing the bare minimum for you.” His words stunned her.

“You love me?”

“God, with everything I have. Since the day you walked in here with those overalls. I've spent the past four years loving you.” Bucky whispered. He grabbed her hand, thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

“I love you too, Bucky. I really do and I'm hurt. I don't think the hurt will go away for some time. You let them speak horribly about me. If you loved me like I was your girl, you would have defended me.” She spoke sorrowfully.

“I know, I know. I can't change the fact that I did nothing but I can tell you that I'm sorry. I'm always going to protect you. I did today. Tanner may be sporting a nasty goose egg on his eye because of his dumbass words.” Y/N giggled softly, touching his bruising knuckles.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“I want to go back to normal. I miss you in the mornings and-and during our lunch breaks outside. I miss you.” Bucky stated.

“I miss you too.”

Bucky watched her eyes drop down to his lip, busted and all. He leaned forward slightly hoping she would meet him in the middle. She met him the rest of the way pressing her lips to his. Bucky relished this moment. He relished to be even sharing moments with the girl he's been in love with since the second he saw her.

“I'm gonna be better, I promise.”

#metalbuck's 2k writing challenge #college!bucky #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes

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pillowdash · 3 years ago

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btw here's the concept doodles i did for the halloween art ^^ i spent way too much time on research just to come up with these... they're very simple costumes, but the thought process i went through was anything but simple, lol. if you're curious, feel free to read about it! (lots of text below)

my goals were 1. i wanted to imagine what would be reasonable for them to wear to a small kind of family gathering 2. i wanted for Susato and Ryunosuke to stick to their culture's mythos for this occasion 3. and ideally, i wanted their getups to be in character Iris was the easiest one, because to dress up as a "Witch" was a rather popular choice back in those days, as many photoprints would prove. she would have no problems finding materials or sewing patterns for her outfit, i thought. i considered making her dress more colorful... but decided against it. after all, despite her love for colours, Iris normally wears clothing with a rather 'calm' colour palette... and too much colour on her would potentially only harm the picture, anyway :P i figured the Japanese duo wouldn't be able to spend a lot / find materials in a foreign land for their costumes. so even if they wanted to dress up fancy, it would be difficult and impractical to seek out accessories or clothing just for this occasion... and it would be entirely too troublesome to try and sew something (materials needed, different sewing techniques than what was common in Britain, where to find pictures to use as a reference for something elaborate, etc etc). so, they wouldn't try do anything too complex, i thought, which means they'd either choose to dress as characters that require cheap, ragged outfits (would be relatively inexpensive to make), or they'd use things they already had. i've given a lot of thought about their choices of characters, but long story short, i've decided that a somewhat devious or fearsome, but not necessarily evil, creatures, that were very well known and easily recognizable even with minimal accessorising, were the best option. i don't know if Ryu has anything like this kimono on him, but if he had, it'd be very dark or black, i think - makes sense with his design ^^ finally, i wasn't sure what to do with Sherlock at all... would he be lazy and forget to make a costume? possibly. he loves to dress up, though, (and one pout from Iris would motivate him enough anyway) so he'd probably have fun with this holiday. i thought of making him dress as a vampire at first, then a Grim Reaper or some kind of skeleton... but ultimately stopped at 'ghost'. i definitely didn't want to just throw a sheet over him, and photos from the end of 19th century showed ghost costumes that were made for little kids and were very, well, childish... not to say that Sherlock wouldn't wear something like that, lol, but i decided to make him wear his own ghostly theme. his outfit is based on fashions from a few decades earlier, so these articles of clothing could still potentially be sold somewhere in London, and they'd give him kind of a vintage look. i have no idea if anyone would be interested in this enough to read this far, but here we are xD here's a couple of other random details: they have carved turnips for lanterns (those came out looking a bit too big, i think) i also thought they'd have soul cakes on the table, to give away/share with others, or maybe eat by themselves, but the bowl is barely noticeable at all, lol ok, that's it!

#tgaa #ace attorney #susato mikotoba #ryunosuke naruhodo #sherlock holmes #iris watson #how do you tag the last twoooooo #that was a completely unnecessary amount of work tbh #but hey as long as its fun

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l0vegl0wsinthedark · 4 years ago

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Holding Hands

Just dipping my toe into the "faking a relationship for a holiday party" trope. (And blame @shealwaysreads for this cause she was like do it and so I did it.)

This is unbeta’d. Please be gentle with me.

Draco waited. The silence that had fallen a couple of minutes ago was still loud. The fire in the hearth kept spitting threateningly instead of just crackling quietly and sweetly like it should. The fairy lights around the tree twinkled gently, slowly, throwing golden patterns over Potter's skin, his dark hair.

They were sat across from each other in front of the hearth, Draco in his armchair upholstered in silver-grey velvet, and Potter in the plushy green armchair he had conjured when he'd arrived. Their drinks were sitting on the spindly-legged table between them.

Potter looked very politely confused, a tiny smile on his face, a thin line between his brows. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his long, strong fingers clasped together neatly, his full attention focused on Draco. He looked...like he was waiting for Draco to finish speaking, to...explain.

Draco licked his lips and tilted his head a bit. "Erm...?"

Potter's smile widened a bit. "Yes?" he said eagerly. Draco blinked and shook his head imperceptibly. Potter's confusion deepened. "I'm...waiting for you to...you know--" he waved his hand vaguely and then grinned, "--laugh," he finally said, a tad lamely.

Draco frowned. "What's funny?"

Potter's mouth fell open on a stupid gape. "I mean... I thought..." He pushed his glasses up his nose and then scratched the back of his neck. "So, what was it you were saying? What are you asking me?"

"Did you not hear me, or are you feigning stupidity?" Draco asked coldly.

Potter frowned, bristling a bit. "I heard you, Draco, and I feel like you're taking the mickey."

"I'm doing no such thing. I explained my predicament and asked you a simple yes or no question. Would you be so kind as to grace me with an answer?"

Potter shook his head irritably. "Stop talking like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like... Like a fucking ponce. That's how you used to speak to me." Draco just looked at him. "Can you just be normal, please?" Potter snapped.

Draco spread his hands out. "I am being normal."

"Uh huh." Potter was still frowning. "So, you're saying--" He broke off and shifted in his seat, straightening up. "So, you're saying..." Trailing off, he just sat there looking like a fucking idiot. "What are you saying?" he finally asked.

Draco picked up his brandy and took a sip before leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, lifting his chin high. "Fine. I will ask you again. Since you're a bloody troglodyte, apparently." He had to gather the will and courage all over again to repeat himself. "Will you accompany me to my parents' Christmas party as my boyf- partner? Meaning, they'll think you're my partner. We’ll just have to pretend."

"You...said something before that earlier."

"Oh. Yes. Well, when my mother asked me if you and I are lovers, after she read that article about us in the Prophet, I simply said yes." He'd managed to say it without displaying any emotion the first time. Now, however, Draco could feel heat rising up his neck and face.

Potter was looking particularly stupid as he stared with his mouth open. "Your parents think we're dating?" Draco nodded. "And they want to...meet me?"

Draco brushed imaginary lint off his trousers. "If you consent."

Potter leaned back, slumping in his chair, knees spreading, his arms hanging over the sides of the chair. He blew out a long breath with a whooshing sound, his lips very pink as they formed an 'o'. Then, rather abruptly, he chuckled, rubbing his face and making his glasses jump onto his forehead.

"Which bit did you find amusing?" asked Draco with feigned politeness.

"The whole thing."

"Oh?"

"Draco," Potter said on a laugh, "can you stop talking like that, please? It's fucking hilarious right now. Especially because that's not how one talks to their 'lover'."

Draco knew he was probably purple in the face by now. It was embarrassing. He ought to have told Potter right after he'd confirmed the rumours to his parents. They'd have laughed about it, and then asking him to go to this fucking party now wouldn't be such a fucking task.

Because they're friends. Close friends even. And Potter was probably going to say yes. He never denied Draco anything. He was always indulging Draco; taking care of Draco. Siding with Draco when that fucking Weasel ragged him. Always promoting Draco's label in his interviews, endorsing his little boutique. Trusting Draco enough let him dress him for important events even though Draco knew Potter had the most basic, unadventurous sense of fashion.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Potter was the softest, most indulgent person and he was probably going to say yes. But that didn't make any of this any easier. Because obviously Potter thought it was funny that the two of them might be lovers. He found this whole thing really amusing.

There was a thin strain of hurt somewhere in Draco's chest but he ignored it.

"So how long before you say yes like we both know you're going to?" Draco drawled.

Potter grinned widely. "What am I going to be wearing?"

The Manor was an absolute wonder to behold. Draco was sure even Hogwarts was never this heavily decorated for the holidays. Fairy lights, glittering icicles, ice sculptures, wreaths, ostentatiously decorated Christmas trees, more lights - the whole house, inside and out, was dripping in red, green, gold and white.

Potter stared around in silence, his expression very serious. He was dutifully holding Draco's hand (just like a lover might) and was taking in the sight of the gigantic ballroom they were in, guests milling about sipping golden champagne from crystal flutes, house-elves trotting around between people's knees holding up trays of hors d'oeuvres; the four gigantic, glittering Christmas trees in each corner of the room, the ice sculpture of a delicately carved fairy, her wings spread, in the centre of the room, sparkling fairy dust falling from her hand and disappearing mid-air.

To Draco this was just about normal, if a tad bit overdone (for the enjoyment of the guest of honour he'd brought along with him, he supposed), but he still blushed in embarrassment when he looked around with Potter's eyes; he was probably convinced now that his parents were pretentious or something. Feeling a bit timid, he glanced sideways at Potter.

He was looking very, very handsome tonight. He had on robes of deep, royal violet - dark enough to nearly pass off as black - with intricate gold embroidery that Draco had spent hours working on himself. He'd let Draco clip a matching cape, embroidered and lined along the hem with fur, onto his shoulders with matching brooches that glittered under the light of what had to be at least a thousand candles hovering above them. He'd made a decent attempt at taming his hair - not a successful attempt, but Draco gave him credit for trying anyway. He'd switched his usual clunky glasses out for the vision correcting spells that Draco knew he hated but it meant his eyes were shining so bright and green that it made Draco's stomach clench a bit with something he’d always staunchly ignored.

Then, his parents spotted them. Lucius was in black as usual - the material expensive, but still black - and Narcissa looked decades younger than she was in robes of pale lavender and silver. Draco smiled as she beamed at them, gliding over alongside her husband.

"Darling." She feathered her lips over Draco's cheek. "Fashionably late, I see. And fashionably dressed," she added, turning to Potter and holding out her hand, her smile small but her eyes warm.

Potter bent over her hand and brushed his lips over the back of her hand briefly - just like Draco had instructed him to - before straightening up and smiling politely. "Thank you for inviting me to your wonderful party, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You are very welcome - literally. And please call me Narcissa."

Lucius had watched and listened in silence, his hands clasped behind his back, his serious gaze fixed on Potter. When Narcissa stepped back, he slowly extended a hand to Potter.

Draco held his breath. They hadn't discussed this. He had no idea how Potter was about to behave with his father but he knew he wouldn't blame him for anything he said or did. Potter was a much better man than his father. This was fact.

But Potter simply shook hands with Lucius and nodded. Draco felt his shoulders relax.

They mingled. Draco had to repeatedly 'introduce' Potter to people as though they all didn't already know who he was, who his fucking parents were. It was laughable. But this was a stupid fucking formal Pureblood soirée and Draco still had his manners. What surprised him was how well-mannered Potter was being.

Potter was also being very loyal to his role as Draco's partner.

"He was such a little terror as a child, bless his heart," said some old crone, patting Draco's cheek with one wrinkled hand. Draco wanted to hiss at her like a cat.

"Aren't we all, at that age?" Potter said calmly, smiling.

"Oh, you're very dedicated to him, I see" she simpered. "Such a pleasure to see. You hardly ever find this in you youngsters these days."

"He doesn't give me much reason not to be dedicated to him."

Potter was still holding his hand.

"Draco doesn't tell us anything about how the two of you put your rather unhappy history aside in order to accept your...softer feelings for each other." Narcissa looked like she'd been bursting to ask Potter this all evening; she'd finally gotten a chance now that she was done making the obligatory rounds amongst her guests.

Potter looked at him, and Draco, his face hot, returned his gaze, trying to apologise wordlessly. But Potter just grinned.

"Well, I don't know about him but," Potter smiled down at Narcissa, looking handsome and charming and, well, fuck, "it was just a natural, automatic thing for me, really. The more I got to know the real Draco Malfoy the deeper I fell in love with him."

Draco felt his eyes widen a bit. He wanted to look at Potter to figure him out, to try and discern just how much he was bullshitting. He wanted to read Potter because Potter was supremely easy to read. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. Draco could always tell, just from one glance, the kind of mood Potter was in.

Trying to appear casual, like Potter hadn't said anything that made Draco's breath catch, Draco looked sideways at him. Potter was smiling, his eyes honest and soft and crinkled at the corners. He was nodding along to something Narcissa was saying.

And he was still holding Draco's hand.

"Very well done," Draco muttered, once his mother had wandered away into the crowd.

Potter smiled and squeezed his hand. "You said you'd give me a tour of the gardens," he said. Draco nodded and led him out.

They strolled in a leisurely manner. It was snowing but there were charms in place which meant that the snow never actually touched them, instead disappearing about a foot over their heads. The gardens were decorated too, lights twinkling everywhere, lighting up the paths.

"This must've been a great place to grow up," Potter eventually said.

They turned the corner and in the distance was the turret-shaped gazebo, hung with white-gold lights. Narcissa, when the weather permitted, loved to paint in the gazebo. Draco smiled.

"It was." Then, guiltily, "I mean... I don't mean to brag or any--"

Potter laughed. It was a low, deep, familiar sound that made Draco break out in gooseflesh.

"Draco," he said gently. "You don't have to feel guilty every time you talk to me about your childhood."

Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "'m not guilty," he mumbled.

"No? You're still that insufferable, obnoxious little shit you were in school?"

Draco actually felt his face fall. He turned to Potter, unbothered about sounding vulnerable. "That's what you thought of me?"

Potter laughed. "Can you blame me? Do you remember you back at school?"

Draco slumped a little. "I suppose." They were nearly at the gazebo now. Together, they turned onto the path that led to the steps leading into it. Then, "That's...not what you think of me now, is it?"

"Draco," Potter's voice was gentle, yet teasing, "Everyone thinks you're a prat. You have to know this."

"Yes, but you?" They climbed the two steps and walked into the gazebo.

"I think you're a prat too." They were still holding hands. "But you're my prat."

Draco turned to look at him but Potter, with a sharp yank, was pulling Draco to himself. With a soft 'oof', Draco hit Potter's chest. Now they were holding both hands.

He quickly pulled himself together although Potter could probably feel his heart galloping in his chest. "Am I, now?"

"Isn't that what we've just spent the last hour and a half proving to people?"

"Well," Draco said slowly, "I was under the impression that it was an act."

"Well," Potter said quietly. "I'd rather it...be real."

They were standing pressed together in the centre of the gazebo, fairy lights surrounding them, Potter's green, green eyes reflecting them as he stared intensely at Draco. He looked like he was challenging Draco, like he was daring Draco to laugh in his face and carelessly brush aside what he'd said. Because that's what Draco Malfoy would do when Harry Potter declared something like that, right? He'd stomp on Harry Potter's proffered heart and revel in it.

Draco couldn't even imagine doing something like that. Especially not when Potter was holding his hands and smelt so good and looked at him like he was promising him so, so many things.

"You were very convincing tonight," said Draco.

"It was really easy," said Potter.

"You held my hand throughout."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Thank you for coming with me tonight."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Potter?"

"Shouldn't you be calling me Harry if we're together?"

"Would you like that?"

"I would love that, Draco."

"You've called me Draco for years now."

"I have."

Draco looked down at the lines of gold thread on Harry's chest, gleaming against the violet silk. "I think I'd like to call you Harry," he admitted.

When his gaze lifted back to Harry's, he was smiling at Draco. Then he looked up above them.

"Mistletoe," Harry said simply.

Draco's ears were ringing as though he'd been struck.

"Oh," he said, his voice quavering.

Harry just smiled again, and slowly let his head drop forward so that their foreheads touched. Then he brought his mouth up to Draco's brow and kissed it.

"Oh," repeated Draco.

They were just gazing at one another now.

Damn it, thought Draco as he broke first and kissed Harry full on the mouth.

They were still holding hands.

#drarry #faking a relationship #for a fucking christmas party #classic trope #that i tried to do justice to #idk *side eyes*#my writing #i feel like this has no shape #or plot #so yes this is basically just like anything else i've ever written #happy holidays!

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hes-writer · 4 years ago

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All Too Well

Summary: right person, wrong time

Warning: sweet fluff and angst

Word Count: 4519 words

A/N: listen to ‘All Too Well’ by Taylor Swift first as there are some references throughout the fic. I also added time stamps as this occurs over the course of one year. I’m sorry if it’s confused—I tried my best to make it as coherent as possible ❤️

also, covid doesn’t exist in this au!

‘~~~’ = flashback, ‘—‘ = cut scene

November 2020

Y/N scrambled through the many articles of clothing sprawled in her drawer. The fabrics mingling with each other into a giant mess. It didn’t even include the pile of clothes sitting on the mattress and dripping on the floor.

That was the thing with Y/N. She had a habit of keeping things she didn’t need. She wasn’t a hoarder—although, Y/N did keep more things in favour of their sentimental value. It was her thing.

The fact that she could cradle a t-shirt in her palms and tell someone exactly what happened on a day that moulded the story of that specific shirt was her skill. Y/N liked to think that you could tell a lot about a person on what kind of clothes they wore—whether they were seeking affection or isolating, but not lonely.

In fact, her clothes didn’t just hold meaning for herself—it catered pieces of places she went to wearing the outfit. The things she thought of while adorning it, the emotions that she felt as it covered or—barely—shielded her skin. It was especially important to her to remember the people she spent it with.

Like that oversized, knee-length coat hung near the back of her closet. Y/N barely wore it now but seeing it beneath the splayed doors of the wardrobe, she could see flashes in her head about the last time she had worn it.

The way the pea coat flowed behind her as she twirled in a gentle circle, twisting the fabric slightly and catching tiny drops of littered snow. Y/N could picture the bulbous hat she wore on her head. A tiny pompom weighing every which way with the direction of her head. Her hands were in warm mittens that rendered her fingerless. The snow boots on her feet were crunching with every step of the crisp white snow beneath her feet.

It was truly a winter wonderland when the white weather sprinkled down on her—on them.

Y/N could just about feel the same large grin replicating her face when she snapped out her memory. The ghost of the hung overcoat literally hunted her as it rested in the shadows of her closet.

Y/N blinked twice, slouching her shoulders as she stayed frozen on her knees. The carpet wasn’t doing much to protect her taut skin, but she was in search of something and intended to find it. Except, she couldn’t find it anywhere.

She was sure that there was absolutely no way that she could lose it. It was a loud patterned scarf that frayed at the edges. It was, quite possibly, the ugliest design Y/N had laid her eyes upon. Though, a certain someone had reassured her that she looked beautiful regardless. Besides, the air was way too chilly to think about fashion choices that day.

~~~

December 2019

“Why don’t you pose for me, love?” Harry suggested, holding his phone tightly in one hand. That same hand was pulled free of the warm confines of his leather gloves as he insisted on capturing a few photos of his girl.

“You got it, mister,” Y/N replied, bending down to ball a glob of snow in her mitten-covered hand. She could just barely feel the iciness radiating off the protective layer. “Mind if I add some props?”

She lifted her hand, a raised brow quirking up her knit beanie.

Harry chuckles, “Go right ahead,”

He tilted his phone, ignoring the way his fingers lost feeling at the fingertips in favour of watching the woman of his dreams throw the patch of snow in the air. He captured the picture, admiring the way her back looked. Y/N really was beautiful from all angles. It was kind of counterintuitive, really, since it was snowing after all. But Harry was way too enamoured to question the questionable actions of his lover.

Besides, the gleaming smile on her face was enough to wipe his mind clean of anything other than her.

“Great! Why don’t you turn around?”

The woman looked over her shoulder was a subtle roll of her eyes, “No way,”

“C’mon, love. ‘S not even tha’ ugly,” Harry urged, commenting about the scarf wrapped around her neck.

She scoffed, “The fact that you have to reassure me is proof that it is ugly,”

Y/N played with the thin ends of the fabric, smiling to herself as she heard Harry groan loudly behind her. They were staying at Gemma’s house for the holidays and Y/N had purchased the first scarf she had seen at the store. She had nearly forgotten it if it weren’t for Harry calling her the night before to ensure that she would be warm during their stay. Not only was it cold, but the chilliness was just a tad too crisp to leave the cozy home without some sort of neck protection.

So, here she was dressed all cute from head-to-toe except her shoulders. It was a bit stupid to care so much about an ugly scarf design but Y/N guessed it had something to do with wanting everything to be perfect.

“I don’t think it’s ugly,” Harry quipped, sounding much closer than he had before. “‘Think it’s really nice. Especially the cutie who’s wearing it. Mind if I borrow it some time?”

Y/N couldn’t help the appearance of her love-struck eyes, smiling again when she felt his bundled arms snaked around her waist. Harry was warm, as usual, and he was sturdy as a rock both literally and metaphorically. Standing still in the snow gave her a bit of a shiver but having Harry’s body close was a breath of relief.

He cradled her between his arms, resting his own scarf-covered chin on her shoulder. Y/N knew that he must’ve been bending at the knees to reach that height. She clutched his naked hand between her mittens, directing it to a pocket in the confines of her coat to keep warm.

“Are you talking about me or the scarf?”

“How about both? Make it a two-for-one deal, yeah?” Harry��s voice was a bit hazy.

He felt as though he was captivated in a trance, watching the snowflakes rest gently on the slope of Y/N’s lashes. Her eyes glancing at their joined, mittened and gloved, hands.

She sighed, “Why not?”

Harry gave a silent cheer, leaning little ways into peck her cold cheek with his lips.

“Alright, now why don’t ya’ twirl for me, Y/N?” He instructed, taking cautious steps back in the snow.

“Like this?”

Harry nodded, thumbing the red button on his phone to press ‘record’. He watched as Y/N gracefully spun in a circle. Her pea coat flailed just at knee-level. Her boots squelched the starch white snow.

She did a full 360 before fully facing him with a bright grin. Harry couldn’t be sure how much his heart could take. He switched the setting to capture a photo.

“Exactly like that,”

He wanted to remember this.

~~~

Upon realization that Y/N would not get hold of that specific scarf—at least not for a while—because it was at Gemma’s home miles away from her, Y/N forced herself to clean up the mess she had made. Maybe it was the sudden strike of sensitivity coursing through her but Y/N felt much more emotional than she did before.

Perhaps it was the match-strike ignition of burning memories that flickered through her brain because once she started; she couldn’t stop.

It started with the frosty memory of twirling in the deep snow. Then, it was the flashback of driving from the grocery store to pick up ingredients before heading back to Gemma’s.

Y/N couldn’t deny the butterflies she felt playing that particular memory back because it was one of the moments that cemented a deep-rooted emotion in her.

The feeling of being beautiful—captivating, charming and alluring that Harry failed to notice the red traffic light switching to a reflective green. (‘Oi! Eyes on the road’)

She could still see the blush on his pale skin, realizing that he had been caught staring. And, by the way, the car behind them honked when Harry failed to move through the intersection. (‘Sorry, got distracted’).

And Y/N didn’t want to say anything but she could feel his tiny glances over her when Harry thought that she wasn’t paying attention.

———

November 2020

It has been nearly a year now.

Only a few more weeks until the dreaded date looped around to a full year passing. This time, Harry wasn’t around to celebrate the festivities with her and that ugly scarf was an article that Y/N had desperately missed. Ironically.

It would be just under a year when Harry had taken Y/N to his childhood home—now Gemma’s house as Anne had moved to a smaller place. It was where he excitedly showed her his room—the posters on his walls. The comics he used to read and the CD’s he used to listen to piled on his desk.

~~~

December 2019

“Quite an improvement,” Y/N commented, sitting on the edge of his twin-sized bed. She was referring to his King-sized bed from when she had slept over a couple of times.

“I’d say,” Harry agreed. The wood creaked under his weight as he sat beside her.

They both stared at the wall in front of them, feeling a sense of intimacy as Harry shared the remnants of his life to her.

The day continued when Anne had called the both of them down for hot cocoa, paired with a striped red, green and white candy cane dipped in the mug.

This was the part that hurt Y/N the most. It was almost too painful to remember—to reminisce because it was proof that the couple were so close to making a future together.

It didn’t happen, though.

Despite Anne and Gemma’s stories about a once upon a time, dorky Harry in his glasses (‘He still is’)—his family couldn’t stop referencing Y/N as his future.

“Hope your kids don’t take after his naked habit”

“Maybe your garden will have wild roses”

“Reckon you guys will get a small home?”

It made Y/N’s cheeks heat up. His family already thought of her as part of their family. And one sneaky look at Harry ensured her that Anne and Gemma weren’t the only ones thinking of their future because Harry caught her gaze long enough to give her the answer she was subconsciously searching for.

And when salutations had to be said, Harry and Y/N said goodbye to Gemma and Anne as they were to return to their respective London homes.

It was also the day that Harry had asked Y/N to move in with him.

——

It was exciting, to say the least. Moving in with your significant other was a big step in any relationship. The fact that Harry was a world-renowned superstar almost disappeared from Y/N’s mind because even though his home was a million times larger than her tiny flat—it immediately felt like home.

Harry wasn’t one to dwell too much on changes. In fact, he often referred to it as a sign that things were moving forward. There was no use being stuck in the same place when the universe had so much to offer. So, he was quite glad when Y/N made herself comfortable in his—their—home.

She managed to make the large place feel cozy. The decorations and tiny trinkets she had placed all over the house were really just pieces of her heart sprinkled in a home in which they’d build a life together. He would look at a pastel-coloured tea kettle and question when he had gotten the appliance before realizing that it was Y/N’s. Harry would use the tea kettle to boil water instead of using his Keurig.

___

Their schedules wouldn’t always line up. But Harry and Y/N were too loved-up to care how little time they spent with each other. There was no use in complaining when they could use that time to appreciate each other—for sticking around. For being the same when things moved too fast. For being the rock that both of them needed when times get rough.

Harry’s late studio sessions ran through the early morning when Y/N would be cooped up in their shared bedroom. Fast asleep and hugging his scented pillow. Sometimes he would find her bundled with a blanket on the living room couch. The soft glow of the television highlighting Y/N’s beautiful features. One look at her was enough to release Harry of the tension he felt on his joints and shoulders.

Y/N’s night shifts were the same too. She would return to a quiet house because Harry had fallen asleep. Despite his attempts to stay awake, he was not a night owl at all. Not only to stay up past ten in the evening unless he was out to do work. She had reassured him countless times that she would be okay on the drive home and that he should sleep when his body grew tired.

Harry tried to stay awake. He really did. And Y/N could tell because as soon as she crawls to her side of the bed, Harry’s right arm immediately pats the cold sheets for her as if sensing that she was nearby. He would mumble a quiet murmur of her name, “Y/N? Tha’ you?”

He would receive no verbal response, nor would Harry be able to see his love in the dark of the night even because Y/N hadn’t bothered to switch her bedside lamp on. Y/N was aware of Harry’s sensitivity to light, especially if he was in the dark for a long period of time. Despite that, Harry would hum in satisfaction when Y/N’s body would etch perfectly against his in a silent greeting that yes it is her.

They would fall fast asleep cuddled into one another.

If they managed to stay awake or if sleep failed to come, Y/N and Harry would trudge down the stairs for a midnight snack, squealing loudly as one playfully chased the other down the staircase.

Sometimes it was Y/N walking in on Harry munching on a few biscuits (‘Not such a health nut anymore, huh?’). Sometimes it was Harry catching Y/N making a fruit salad—an array of fruits and vegetables laying on the counter (‘I take credit for this’, he would say.)

But it would always end the same.

With both of them dancing goofily with each other. The refrigerator light was the only source of illumination because neither would be bothered to turn on an actual light. Not when the fridge served as a light source and a container of a variety of edible choices.

One night would end with Y/N slow dancing in Harry’s arms. His hands-on her waist, grazing her skin when her pyjamas too lifted. Their bodies would rest against each other like a stacked jigsaw. Harry’s chin on her head, hers on his broad shoulder. A pair of their hands clasped tightly on one another while the other found purchase with their bodies.

Harry would hum a light tune or sing softly so that they can find their rhythm. They would sway across the kitchen—slowly—crying out in pain and laughter when one would bump their hip on the marble counter. Y/N would listen to his heartbeat thrumming beneath his chest and even though she could only see a bit of him—it was enough.

One night would end with Y/N and Harry goofily flailing their limbs every which way. Boisterous laughter filling the room as Harry practically wheezed at Y/N’s admittance of performing a mean Dougie.

And with the fridge light catching the bits of it, Harry would slap his palm on the counter to catch himself before his knees gave out below him (‘There’s jus’ no way you’re that good’). She proved him wrong.

Neither of them knew when it would be the last time these moments occurred. Until they stopped completely.

——

It was the small changes that brought them closer together. And what would inevitably drive them apart.

It was the fact that even though the couple didn’t see each other much, they still cherished the time they had together because that was enough.

The relationship was built off of mutual trust, respect and honesty. Time was essential but Harry and Y/N didn’t necessarily need a lot of it. They just needed the reassurance of ‘always’. That no matter what happens, however far away they were from each other physically, however, the time they spent apart—that Harry would always come back to her and Y/N would always run home to him.

——

It was late-August when they broke up.

Leading up to it, Y/N had been promoted at her workplace and Harry was no longer spending late nights at the studio. He was sleeping in the studio instead of coming home.

Y/N was understanding. He was on a time-crunch since his second album was due to be released at the end of that year. She wanted to be as supportive as she had always been—if not, more. Harry didn’t need more pressure from her—his partner—who was supposed to be his solid ground in a cracking centre.

It was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

It was fine that they were spending less time than they normally would—not that it was a lot in the first place.

He was still trying. She was still trying. Messages, video calls—hell, even emails were there. The rare times when their schedule would actually coincide were spent peacefully sleeping on the bed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Then, Y/N got promoted. More responsibilities. Training her colleagues. Interviewing assistants. Typing detailed emails. Double-checking spreadsheets.

At the same time that Harry was being pulled left and right to make decision after decision. Finalizing next year’s tour dates. Promos. TV shows. Modelling campaigns. Photoshoots. Interviews.

And like any other, answering later turned into a message left on ‘read’. A missed call manifested into an unopened voicemail. A desperate-measures email was only one of the many in each others’ inbox.

Harry wanted Y/N to come with him on tour the following year but it was a stretch waiting to be snapped.

She couldn’t.

Y/N was starting to build her life, building her career and she wasn’t going to give that up for him just yet. He could go on tour and she could visit when time allows. They knew that. Harry would buy her a ticket and she would be off to see him—when she can.

~~~~

June 2020

“I can’t go. You know that,” Y/N sighed, rubbing a palm over her face.

Harry leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of the bathroom. “I knew that. ‘Was worth a try though,”

They shared a comforting smile with each other. A hint of reassurance when uneasiness prevailed. There was something about the shift from spring to summer that simmered in their chests.

“Promise you’ll come to visit?”

“Of course,”

~~~

London may be Harry and Y/N’s home but LA was calling for him. Hence, why he spent the summer on the other side of the world. On another continent, across the pond, as some people might say.

It’s just a few months. He’ll be back before you know it, Y/N thought.

Harry will be home for the holidays and they would drive up north to spend it with Anne and Gemma as they did the previous year. The year when Y/N had met them for the first time and despite that, attained their approval to build a future with Harry.

Just a few months and then Harry will be back with her. The same Harry who will gently loop an ugly scarf around her neck. Teasing her about its hideousness before reassuring her that it was ‘as stunning as the woman wearing it’. . .or something. Harry always complimented her.

Yet, Harry never came home a few weeks shy before their scheduled road trip as they had planned. And Y/N did not visit him like she had promised to do.

Though, none of them blamed the other because they were too busy with their own lives to keep up with each other. What once was a loving and caring relationship was not a liability pushed to the back burner.

One might say that Harry and Y/N’s love was a case of wrong timing. They were perfect for each other—but just not now.

Because Y/N had a lot of things going for her and expanding her career. Harry was becoming more and more popular and successful by the minute. It wasn’t like they meant to ignore each other or be oblivious that they were still very much in a relationship with each other. Both Harry and Y/N just had a lot on their plate to even think twice about a relationship.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault—really. Even though their phone call says otherwise.

——-

August 2020

“Y-you what? Y/N, love,” Harry spoke through the phone.

Y/N’s breath hitched at the sound of the beloved nickname. It had been a while since she had heard it.

“I want to break up,” She repeated.

“Why?”

The woman picked at her fingernails, distracting herself from going back to the spreadsheet in front of her. She was in the middle of a break up yet her body urged to continue working.

“What do you mean why?” Y/N sighed exasperatedly. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, Harry. You said you’ll be home before Christmas so we can see Anne and Gemma but—,”

“We don’t have to see them! Y’can fly out here and spend it with me,”

“You know, I can’t,”

Upon letting those slip past her lips, Y/N was starting to question if Harry had disconnected because of the eeriness over the phone.

And as he said that night months ago with the alteration of Y/N’s word, “‘Know y’cant. You promised, though.”

Harry’s voice cracked and Y/N wondered if he was gnawing on his lip like he usually would when tears overflowed the ducts of his eyes. In the distance, Y/N heard a door close shut and she wondered if he had been working—the same as her—before she had decided to call and he had decided to answer.

A knife pierced into Y/N’s chest, guilt seeping in her veins as she recalled the words she had uttered to him. A promise that she would visit if he gave her the ticket. But that was then and this is now.

She wasn’t the head of her department then. Y/N had a lot more responsibilities now and she couldn’t just up and leave whenever she wanted to.

“And you promised to come back. Did you?”

He didn’t.

“Look, can we talk about this later? ‘M in the middle of recording and—“

“When are you not?” Y/N cut him off absentmindedly, splitting her attention on the Excel sheet in front of her.

“Excuse me?” Harry quipped, faintly hearing the clacks of a keyboard. “I know I work a lot but y’do too. Barely even respond to my texts anymo’”

“Says the one who doesn’t answer my calls,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes.

And there it was again. The defeat of silence that proved no matter how much they retaliated against one another—neither of them would win because both of them were at fault.

“I was busy,”

“I am, too,”

“Y/N—“

“What?”

“I-I don’t want to lose you. . .”

The ache in Y/N’s chest grew tenfold. Her fingers momentarily paused over the keys of her laptop board. There was nothing to lose. Not when they’ve already thrown it away.

“I don’t want to either, H. But don’t you think breaking up is better than waiting for something that will never happen?”

“What won’t?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N pushed her chair back, staring at the view of the city from her office.

“Us. Our future. It won’t happen because you’re busy and I’m busy. There’s no right time for us to start, Harry.”

“Who says there has to be a right time, huh?”

“Says, everybody! How are we supposed to build our relationship further when there is no relationship to work on?”

The waves of emotion came crashing down. For months, Y/N had suppressed the feeling of loneliness inside of her. She missed Harry so badly that it hurt her to admit so she went with the temporary bliss of balling it up until it became too much.

“We just need time, Y/N. We don’t need to do it at the right time. Y’know that,” Harry whispered, wishing so badly that this conversation didn’t take place over the phone where he was currently locked in a bathroom stall.

He continued, “You were there, weren’t you? Barely saw you but y’were there. You know how I feel about you and I know you feel about me. We jus’ need time,”

Time.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N would slow dance in the kitchen at god-knows-hour of the morning.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N blissfully spent their time in the cold, watching her throw the bundle of snow in the air as if it was in slow-motion.

Because time is when Harry would look at Y/N and swear that it has stopped because nothing else mattered except her.

“You know it, you know it,” Harry gulped, breath hitching over the phone. Was he crying?

“All too well,” Y/N responded underneath her breath. She knew that he was right—that all they needed was a chance to reconnect and rekindle the flame put out by distance.

She hated how familiar every memory was to her. She hated how easily she was brought back to the moment it all happened with just the breath of his whisper.

There was no denying the emotion she felt wearing his hoodie and red and black plaid pyjamas at three in the morning. The affection she received wearing those pieces of clothing from the man who owned them. Her sock feet glided against the cold floor. Everything came flashing back to Y/N and it hurt because there was no way she could grant his wish.

“You’re asking for too much, Harry. I-I can’t give you that. You can’t give me—us—that,”

“W-what are you saying, love?” He whimpered, clutching the device in his hand as a last resort to hold onto something that was drifting away.

He knew that she was right. Y/N couldn’t give him that and he certainly couldn’t either.

“We can’t be together. At least, not now. We’re not the same anymore. We want the same things but we’re headed on different paths,”

“But we’ll meet again, won’t we?” Harry’s hoarse voice exemplified that he was—indeed—been crying. And Y/N’s wet cheeks were proof that she was as well.

“Always,”

_____

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing

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crispycrimebrulee · 4 years ago

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HI! Can i request chrollo with prompt 12? Thanksssss <3

Prompt #12: "I Miss You" "Don't Lie, I Know She's With You." [Angst!] [TW: Cheating] [Also Available on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/31658609 ]

Absence Makes The Heart Grow...Fickle.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Indeed, a statement that every relationship comes to meet, a milestone, a test of faith across miles of land and oceans, for if your love can withstand distance, surely it can withstand time, turmoil, and anything else.

And yet…

You find yourself, staring out of a raindrop riddled window, the soft hush of rainfall on adding fuel to your thoughts, watching your worries become realities as a pattern emerged from his constant actions…

Or lack thereof.

Could you blame him, though? Chrollo Lucilfer, feared among thieves and civilians alike, ruthlessness without bounds when he’s set on getting what he wants, going to any distance, metaphorical or physical to obtain what he wants most. You couldn’t really fault him for his distance; his distance in miles, being thousands of miles away gallivanting with his spiders on yet another quest, continuously building his legacy. You couldn’t blame him for his emotional distance either. He was an intense man to reach, to truly reach and understand and get close to. It would take ages of hard work and commitment to get him to share even a fraction of a clue of his own troubles to you. Not to mention, he always had something on his mind, a new quest, a new artifact, a new theory from his books, a new gang to silence, debts to collect...oh was he a busy man. You couldn’t blame him for being so far away, so distant…

And yet…

In the past he’d always made time for you, always called and made sure you were safe and taken care of while he was away. You’d been his top priority, his ultimate treasure, all quests and roads lead back to you at the end of a day or the end of a month, it was always your heart he returned home to and you welcomed him time and time again, how could you not? Everything about him was captivating, you’d be a fool to not let him in and have all that you are, albeit slowly and carefully, weary of what he was capable of.

Not weary enough, it seems.

You’d let him in, opened your doors to him and allowed him to gaze at what you thought was everything he wanted. Sure, it was everything he wanted, more than that by far. But as thieves go, they take without bounds and leave the door ajar, only a little so that they may slip in and steal whatever is left whenever they please, and you can do nothing to stop them seeing as only a fool lets a thief in their home.

He’d taken valuables beyond obtainable prices.

Love, time, faith, gentle smiles and gentler words, secrets of hopes and dreams and fears, all of it. He’d taken all of it without remorse on the basis of ‘your love could never be replaced’ promising he would only and always come back to you…

And.

Yet.

You already knew his heart and his eyes had wandered, from missed calls to missed dates to missed events to ‘forgetting to tell you he’d returned home’, to hearing whispers from shop owners mentioning they’d seen him with Her, his hand resting on the slope of Her hip, his eyes resting on Her hands as She held gifts from places he’d been, places he knows you could only dream of visiting, gifts that were seldom for you. He’d already tested the waters with another, already given in to a special kind of temptation, a one sided selfish temptation. What had you meant to him? Were you only someone to play with, something to fill a gap in his desires, desire for a sense of stability? Had he only spent years with you to play house with a docile routine only to put you on the shelf when the gap had closed, a new one opening where you did not fit? Were you another object he had to have, something to join a collection of used dolls, a worn out plaything, a gemstone now frosted and without luster, something to be given away with lesser value?

Of course, you little fool. What else would he want with you?

Only souls with stars in their eyes and hope in their hearts think ruthlessness with no bounds have bounds in regards to another, and that they’ll be the special one, the one that gets spared and cherished. Do thieves cherish? Do thieves find things special beyond monetary value? What monetary value did you hold?

Not enough, not enough, not enough.

You could only think about what She’d done to coax him away, or what She hadn’t done at all. You thought about it as you would walk to the store, the park, the bank, and glimpses of Her would cross your eyes clear as day, the scent of Her perfume, the clatter of Her bracelets, the sound of Her shoes on the pavement going to wherever Chrollo was, wherever he wasn’t with you, the place he said he would always return to. And at first, it was merely suspicion, something you talked yourself out of on nights where he was home but away from you, nights where he failed to call, night where you’d caught glimpses of them out late at night as though you wouldn’t notice.

Ruthlessness without bounds.

Suspicion only lead to confirmation by others and by your own eyes, accidentally of course, when he would come home and find Her earrings in his pocket, love letters in his jacket no longer addressed to you, Her perfume lingering on his shirt and pressed to his skin, catching the notes of sandalwood and citrus as he dared to sleep beside you on nights he could not sleep beside Her.

You could blame him.

And you did.

Your caring, your desperation and sorrow and attempts to reach out to him while he was wrapped up in satin sheets with Her only added fuel to his ill willed fire. You simply stepped back, two can play at that game.

You stopped wearing the foreign gifts, stopped reading the dull love letters, stopped sending calls and messages to someone who clearly did not care to receive them or not. To lose power, leverage, the damage it does to know what the ruthlessness of an old lover can do.

Being so easily let go, like the treasures he sells, was too much for him it seemed.

So much so, that your phone rang, his name lighting up the screen. You looked at it, letting the ringing pass through you as you considered if you should leave him wondering and falling apart.

Wondering too long, the call fell, the abrupt end to the rings bringing you out of your thoughts as you went back to watching the rain fall.

No more than 5 minutes, it seemed, before the phone rang again, Chrollo seemingly desperate to reach you now, more so than he ever had.

Once, twice, three times your phone rang before you picked it up slowly, a somber hello drawn out from you.

“Y/N… I haven’t heard you in some time-”

“I know.” you cut him off, your voice soft but stern and unamused.

He was silent for a moment, the sound of rain on both ends prodding at your thoughts again.

“You’ve been well, I hope? I’ve sent some things over to you from my recent trip.”

“Mmm… I never got them.” you lied, of course, knowing the small packages remind untouched, sitting outside on your balcony getting soaked by the rain.

“I’m sure I sent them, y/n, a few things I know you’d enjoy.” he hummed as he seemed to be lacing his words with sweetness, too much for his own sake, really.

“I’ll look out for them.”

Although you knew you wouldn’t.

He sighed, a rare sign from him, the sound of him sitting down from wherever he is, making the audio crackle.

“I’ve been gone a while, y/n.”

“I know. I know more than anyone.”

“I haven’t called as much as you’d like me to, it’s my fault my love.”

“It is your fault, Chrollo.”

Silence.

“Y/n…”

“Chrollo.”

“I miss you.”

You tilted your head to the side, watching the raindrops race down the window as Chrollo lied his finest lie.

“Don’t lie, I know She’s with you.”

Although you couldn’t see him, you could sense the shift in the atmosphere, was the shift from losing his chance to reconcile? Losing his chance to explain? Or from being caught like a rat in a cage of his own making?

“Y/n there's-”

“Tell me, Chrollo...do you miss me when you run your fingers through Her hair?”

“...”

“Or when you kiss Her hand and walk Her home?”

Deathly silence from someone so brazen...

“Do you miss me when your lips brush against Her skin, do you think of me then?”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer as you ended the call, knowing the damage on both ends had been done. You wouldn’t answer his calls, late or early, for the next few days as you planned to find a new place to stay, somewhere he wouldn’t find for a little while. His gifts provided ample financial help when traded in pawn shops, allowing you to gather yourself quickly and vanish in the same fashion that he did.

Your doors were closed, now, less of a fool for a thief with no bounds.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it leaves the rest of you lonely.

#hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter prompts #hunter x hunter anime #hunter x hunter angst #hunter x hunter drabbles #hxh #hxh headcanons #hxh chrollo #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo angst #angst #anime angst #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x reader

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marvel-ousnesss · 4 years ago

Text

Unrequited (Valerio x reader)

Warnings: angst, use of drugs, alcohol, cursing, cheating, breakup, mentions of Valerio x Lucrecia

Word count: 2000-ish

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I hadn't been motivated to write anything until recently. As always, I love to hear comments, thoughts and feedback. Also, thank you so much for supporting my work, hope you enjoy 💜

Masterlist

Request

“Stop it, Valerio.” You abruptly close the book you're holding, eyeing the teacher as you place it on the desk. “They won't even let me get out of the house.”

He had been nagging you all week long about some party he was dying to go to, and you wanted to, really. The only problem was that, a few days ago, the two of you had dragged Guzman on a nightly adventure to the beach, which seemed right at the moment, since he had spent the whole summer sulking. Your dad practically had to drag you home by an ear, and, to say the least, your family didn’t wanna hear a beat about parties or your friends any time soon.

He scoffs, “seriously? Your parents are like the chillest people ever, they weren’t even that mad.”

Incredulous, you look at him up and down, betrayed by the amused grin that flicks on the corner of your lips. “Just checking, were you there on Thursday? One step out of line, and I'll be walking around with an ankle monitor.”

“Y/N, Valerio, is my class, perchance, interrupting your conversation? Should I take it elsewhere?”

With a quick apology and a glare at your boyfriend, cutting the conversation was cut short. However, it was naive to think he'd just settle for the answer you had given him.

“Whatever, Y/N," he grumbles. "I’m sure They'll let you if I,” he frames his face and smiles coyly, “am the one who asks.”

"Geez, why didn't I think of that!". Turning the page of your textbook, you deadpan. "Oh, right, dick-in-a-sock incident.”

Valerio lowers himself on his seat as his face embraces a new tone of crimson. After a second, he recovers. “Can't believe you brought up that teeny-tiny mistake of mine. Low, Y/L/N, even for you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the bell rings.

When it stops, you continue, “Seriously, V, they've been all over me these last few days, it's a long shot.”

Both of you get out of the classroom and begin to make your way to the lockers. “Just tell them Polo’s gonna be there, don’t they love Polo?”

You sigh, checking the time on your phone. You only have fifteen minutes before your next class began, and, honestly, lack the energy to spend them trying to knock some sense into your mule of a boyfriend.

“Fine,” you settle. “I’ll call them in a minute. But, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Too late.” With a captivating smile, he leans in and pecks your cheek.

After you agreed to at least call your parents, Valerio's mood improved considerably the rest of the day. The rest of the classes went by uneventfully; before you knew it, you found yourself in the car, duffle in hand, on your way to the Montesinos'.

You arrive at their house and let yourself inside, leaving your stuff at the door and heading straight to the kitchen, looking for something to drink. When you turn around to face the stairs, Lu’s making her way down.

"So, how did you manage to dodge your sentence this time?"

"Haggled my freedom, sort of." You place a glass on the table and open the fridge to fetch a bottle of sparkling water.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, exasperated. "A call from my dad would’ve done it".

"Thanks, but it wasn’t that bad, really, " you assure, pouring some water into the glass then cutting a lemon in half. "Just have to take my brother to some birthday party next week and, in exchange, they gave me their blessing for Valerio's thing, and let me stay at yours after."

"God, Y/N, you complain about my brother 24/7 and, in the end, the two of you are just as stubborn."She grabs an apple and takes a bite. "You could've saved yourself the trouble completely."

"Oh, well."You take a seat by the kitchen bar. "Guess it takes one to know one."

"Anyway, what are you wearing tonight?"

You unlock your phone and browse through the gallery. When you find the picture, you stop and point a finger at her. "You're gonna hate me. " You show her the screen smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh, my fucking god, Y/N! How- I- is that the Valentino you were drooling over the other day?"

You just grin.

"You, bitch, how did you get your hands on that?"

"Aunt Millicent."

"Of course," she huffs.

"Turns out that there were a few perks of her going off to Milan." You shrug. "But that's not important right now, what are you gonna wear?"

With that. she drags you up the stairs and into her room. You spend the rest of the afternoon immersed in makeup experiments and debates about fashion until Valerio and Guzman shout your names to start pregaming.

You enter the party together and go straight to the most vacant area of the VIP zone. After grabbing the first round, you join the others at the table and sit down with Polo and Carla for a few drinks. The group remains wrapped in conversation until Ander walks up to his friends and drags them to the bar, probably to tell them about his most recent disagreement with Omar. Soon after, Lucrecia makes eye contact with Nadia, muttering something about her daring to come, and standing up with a huff. Knowing she's physically incapable of keeping herself out of trouble, Carla stands up with a roll of her eyes and follows her.

Valerio lets his arm fall around you and chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. "And then, there were two."

“Wanna get high?" You don't wait for him to answer verbally. Instead, you grab his hands and pull the two of you to stand up.

He laughs, grabbing a bottle of whatever was on the table beside yours.

The two of you sprinted to the nearest restroom in a fit of giggles and lock the door behind you. He puts the bottle on the counter and reaches his pockets, freezing as soon as he lifts his gaze. You dig into your clutch and shake a small bag in his face.

"My treat," you grin, resembling a kid in a candy store.

"Oh, my, little miss Y/LN!" he gasps in fake horror. "What happened to the ankle monitor you were telling me about."

"I won’t tell if you won’t."You smirk, carefully arranging the lines.

The party comes to an end a few minutes before sunrise. You reunite with Lucrecia and Guzman by the entrance of the club and the four of you get in the Montesinos' car. Your head rests on Valerio's chest and he traces lazy patterns on the skin of your arm and shoulder.

When you make it to the house, Lucrecia doesn't waste a minute to drag a tipsy Guzman upstairs, waving a quick goodbye on her way. You giggle, well aware of your friends' plans for the night. Then, you head to the kitchen for a snack.

"Confess it." Your boyfriend stares at you from the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. "The only reason you ever visit is that we have a better pantry."

"To be honest, I thought you already knew that." You grab a pack of chips and walk toward his bedroom, passing by him and kissing his nose softly.

You don't fall asleep that night, writhing in Valerio's arms and debating whether or not to go find something for the hangover that was already beginning to haunt you. When you open your eyes, the first rays of sunlight are already peeking through the window. You decide to get out of bed. You throw the blanket off you and turn, expecting to see your boyfriend, but only find a mess of his blankets instead. You check the time on your cell phone: 8:22 a.m.

Seeing no point in continuing your attempts to get some sleep, you put on the shirt that was laying on Valerio's desk chair and leave the room. As you're crossing the hall to the pool, you hear noises coming through Lucrecia's door. For a moment, you think it may be her and Guzman, but remember hearing him say that he had to go home at dawn to get to a swimming competition.

You try to ignore the noise and convince yourself it's none of your business; but, when you continue to walk away, your ears are invaded by a voice you knew quite well. "It couldn't, they can't-, they're...", a million thoughts invade you. You take a deep breath and to open the door.

There are no words to describe the feeling of your heart being ripped in the blink of an eye. Your legs threaten to collapse and blood rushes to your head, making you dizzy for a brief moment. Not only do you find your boyfriend in the bed, with an unreadable expression coating his face, but you find your best friend redhanded, looking right at you like a deer in headlights.

You don't even try to digest the scene; instead, you run out of the house, suddenly not caring about your current apparel. Part of you wanted to shout what you had seen, to ruin them, but they meant too most to you. You couldn't do it, no matter how much you wanted to get it off your chest.

Luckily, your house was empty. You went straight upstairs and locked yourself in your room for the rest of the morning. You did whatever you could to take your head off what you had seen, but nothing worked. In the end, you wrote it down, desperate to get it out somehow. You hadn't opened your diary since you were twelve, but it was relieving; a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

You spend the remaining of the day so deep in thought, that you didn't even notice your family arriving from the park. You drifted off to sleep after working on some homework, only to be woken up by our brother's voice.

"Y/N, your boyfriend's here!" Hearing the word sends a jab of pain through your body. However, you reply, "I'll be down in a second."

You put on a hoodie, some shoes and leave the fort that was your room. Your parents are focused on a movie, so you take the opportunity to step into the backyard with Valerio.

You face him, trying to appear emotionless, even if your bloodshot eyes give you away.The childish gleam in his face is nowhere to be found, his shoulders are more drooping than normal, and his eyes are almost as red as yours. You wonder if it's because of the crying or the cocaine.

“How long?”

“Before I went abroad.”

You attempt to walk back into the house, but he grabs and pulls your arm, begging you to stay and listen.

You sigh. “I won't say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He stays silent for a few seconds, bringing himself to believe that your thoughts on him were actually that low. Then he mumbles, “I don’t care about that, I know it’s unorthodox, and that you’re probably gonna stop talking to us now, and-“

You didn’t have the energy to hear him ramble. “Look, yes, I’m really shaken, to say the least, it's the first time I’ve seen something like that.” You grimaced. “But, the point is you betrayed my trust, V! Completely!” Your voice shakes, you try to clear your throat but it comes out as a sob. “I- even if it hadn’t been her, you hurt me. You promised you’d never do it, but you did!

He takes your hands, and, even if you don’t resist, feels how tense that makes you. Hours prior, it would’ve been comforting. “And I’m sorry, really. I did it without thinking, Y/N/N, it won’t happen again.”

You pull your hands out of his. “Please, V, it’s been happening for more than a year, half of the time we’ve been dating.”

He stays quiet.

You quietly question, “do you still love me?”

This time, his bottom lip quivers and his voice cracks when he answers. “I care about you, a lot, you know that.”

That’s the last you bear to hear. You avert your eyes from him. “I forgive you. You can go now.”

“Y/N/N…” He moves closer to you, but you shake your head, stopping him.

“Please,” you croak.

#valerio montesinos imagines #Valerio imagines #Valerio imagine #Valerio x reader #Valerio Montesinos x reader #elite #elite imagines #netflix elite #las encimas #Valerio #Jorge López #x reader #valerio blurb #valerio oneshot

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cyoc49 · 4 years ago

Text

HIMBO Magazine: Changing Departments

*click! click! click! click!*

Derek listened to the camera flash as he sat on the side of the bed. He was currently doing a photo shoot for HIMBO magazine, a fashion and lifestyle magazine “for the modern gay male™”. Fake blood dripped against his chest - they were doing some Halloween type of shoot. But let’s be honest, the blood wasn’t the focus of the shot: it was his body. Derek had never been the best student - and his attitude certainly didn’t help - but if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was make his body look as sexy as humanly possible. Derek scoured nutrition blogs to make sure he stayed up to date on everything related to fitness, and the dedication showed itself in his beautiful, sculpted body. Sitting here with no shirt on and wearing a pair of lethally tight skinny jeans, he looked like every gay man’s wet dream. To put it simply, Derek was hot as hell; problem is, he knew he was hot at hell.

“Alright, that’s good. I think we have what we need, thank you Mr. Hale” the director said. Derek stood up and two twinkish looking assistants came over to remove the blood. Derek stood still and tried to ignore the two obviously gay men putting their hands all over his body. Derek was the kind of guy who thought all gay men were jumping at the bit for any man they can find. Doing a photo shoot for a gay magazine was certainly not his dream, but hey: a paycheck is a paycheck.

After he was cleaned off, Derek put on a t shirt and enjoyed the feeing of it stretched tight against his pecs. He slung a Louis Vuitton backpack over his shoulders. All he had to do was collect his check and he could be done with this homo magazine. Derek headed towards the doorway connecting the studio space to the rest of the offices. He turned the corner into the hallway, only to immediately crash into someone coming from the opposite direction. Papers went flying.

Derek hesitated, then reluctantly crouched down to help the man pick up his papers. As he did, the man spoke to him in a deep voice “You know, you should really watch where you’re going. People are busy around here.”

This was the remark that set Derek off. It was enough that he had done a photo shoot outside his comfort zone, and ran into someone while he was leaving, but now he was being sassed by some worker who couldn’t slow down enough to watch out for passers. Derek had had enough of this magazine. “You know,” he said, “I’m surprised. I thought you fags would be more excited to slam into other guys.”

Derek could sense the shift in mood immediately. All the workers around him who had been buzzing about immediately stopped and looked at th scene. The office had gone dead silent. As Derek looked around at all the men staring at them, the man he had bumped into finished collecting his papers and stood up, allowing Derek to finally look at him properly. Woah, this was a fine looking man. Strappingly tall and ruggedly handsome. He filled out his expensive-looking three-piece suit perfectly. His whole demeanor was one of absolute confidence. Finally, Derek realized what had happened. He hadn’t bumped into some random employee. He had knocked over and subsequently cussed out the boss of the whole place.

*Well*, Derek said to himself, *I fucked up bad this time*.

The boss was surprisingly well-composed for someone who had just been called a slur, Derek thought. As if to prove this point, the boss suddenly started laughing. It was a good, deep laugh. And when he laughed, everyone else in the building laughed along with him. Derek stared at everyone in the office in confusion. Why did they find this so funny? Was it because he’s their boss? And they were all looking at the boss with such admiration. Derek just hoped this meant the issue would blow over and he could leave before embarrassing himself sooner.

But before he could step away, he was spoken to. “I used to get really angry when people said stuff like that to me,” the boss explained in a rich, inviting voice, “now it just makes me sad, because I see all the failed potential hiding behind that language.”

Derek took a little offense to that last statement, but he knew he was in no position to argue right now. It seemed like the laughter was the all-clear the rest of the office needed to know their boss was okay, because the normal hum of voices and keyboards had returned. Now it was just him and the extremely powerful man he had pissed off. Derek broke the silence. “Look, Mr...”

“Christian Le Maítre” the gorgeous boss informed him, “Editor in Chief of HIMBO magazine. But everyone around here just calls me Mr. M.”

“Right. Well, uh, Mr. M, I’m really sorry about-“

“No you’re not.” Christian cut him off without missing a beat. “I’ve seen so many models like you come and go through these halls. You think you’re hot shit, and take pity on all of my boys in this office who had to take desk jobs because their bodies weren’t nice enough to let them get by on looks alone. But you know, we’re hard workers here. And we’re a close knit family.”

Derek objected to being interrupted, but as Christian talked, he felt his defenses melt away with every word. Mr. M was right, Derek realized. I am a narcissistic asshole who holds myself above others. He had never felt like this before. But everything Mr. M said just seemed right. When this gorgeous, confident man spoke, Derek realized he was speaking the truth.

“What’s your name, son?” Mr. M asked him.

“D-Derek, sir. Derek Hale.” Derek was never one stutter, but how else could he feel right now?

“Well Derek, I’m sure our lame little office doesn’t fit your macho man swagger persona, but I think you’d find that working here is pretty great.”

Was that an offer? Derek didn’t know. He had completely forgotten the context of their conversation, and indeed his reason for being in this office in the first place was slowly becoming a distant memory. All Derek knew in this moment was that he HAD to work at HIMBO. In fact, he couldn’t imagine life without working here.

Derek tried to compose a response, but was increasingly timid in the presence of this incredible man. “Well, uh, Mr. M. Perhaps if you have any opening I might be able to, uh-”

Mr. M just laughed again, and this time Derek laughed right along with him.

“Well I’m shocked to hear you change your tune so quickly, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Working here is kind of a dream job, if I do say so myself. But there’s no need to submit your CV and go through the traditional channels. I am actually prepared to offer you a job on the spot.”

Derek felt his ears burning. How lucky was he! To be offered a job at the best company on earth. He would take it immediately!

“Mr. M, it would be an honor to work for you” Derek bowed his head as he said this. Respect was important, especially for the man who was giving him a job no questions asked.

“Glad to hear it, sport! Now full disclosure, it’s a clerking position. I know, not the most exciting stuff, but here at HIMBO we believe even the most mundane work can be made magical! Of course, you would have to change a few of your behaviors to *best* fit the position. Your ego, your hot-headedness. Do you think those are things good for a clerk to have?”

“No, sir” Derek said with convocation. “Anything you want me to change, I will change.”

Christian cracked a smile, as if Derek had said something unintentionally funny. “Well I admire your commitment. It’s just, clerks are so straight-laced and serious, and you are such a character, Derek. Mr. Macho Man with a great body. Actually, I do like this body.” Christian looked Derek up and down, “I think that can stay. But as for everything else, well, I can take care of that.”

Christian stopped talking and instead just looked at Derek. The hopeful employee stood there silently, unsure of what to do. Just then, he suddenly felt a draining feeling. It wasn’t his muscles or his IQ or any of that stuff that he felt fading away, it was more like he was losing... his personality? All the pride Derek felt over his hot body and great life was disappearing. All the anger he get towards people not like him, slipping away. But it wasn’t replaced by new emotions, it wasn’t replaced by anything. Derek stopped feeling strong feelings about much of anything. He liked his job, he followed the news, but he had never had any opinions of his own. Never tried to be individual or stand out. Derek was becoming like his new favorite flavor of ice cream: vanilla.

As Derek’s personality slowly morphed him into a contender for the World’s Most Dull Man, his wardrobe changed to follow suit. His designer t shirt loosened out a bit. The sleeves grew down his arms before spouting buttons and cuffs. Buttons also sprouted down the middle, and the shirt gained a collar, becoming a basic button-up shirt. A white plaid pattern spread across the shir. At the same time, Derek felt his skinny jeans go “pah” as all the tightness shrugged out of them, changing them into (gag) regular fit pants. They lightened to gray and changed material to thin cotton, becoming work slacks. His new plaid shirt automatically tucked itself into the pants, and a brown leather belt formed around his waist, with his expensive designer sneakers morphing into brown leather dress shoes to match. The LV backpack he wore fell as one of the straps broke off, before disappearing altogether. The remaining strap lengthened and slung itself over his shoulder, and the bag itself shifted into a basic messenger bag, holding plenty of important documents and paperwork.

For a brief moment, Derek felt confusion and fear. Why were these changes happening to him? Where did his nice stuff go, and what were these boring-ass clothes replacing them? These thoughts only lasted for half a second, before Derek realized how right this was. This was his style, or more accurately his *lack* of style. Derek had never cared about trends, or getting fancy new clothes. As long as they fit him well and looked professional enough for work, that was all that mattered in Derek’s eyes. A Ross Membership Card popped into his wallet to cement this change.

Derek felt something in his pocket, and pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses. These were the glasses he needed to see, of course. Derek opened them up and put them on. To follow suit, his hair parted itself to the side and became thick with gel holding his new professional haircut in place.

As promised, Christian had left Derek his body, but had taken basically everything else from him. Where there had once stood an arrogant, trendy mode, there was now a walking turtleneck. Normally in cases like this, Derek would sprout new memories of his new life. But no memories came, because Derek didn’t really *have* a life. He was now a total office drone. From 9-5 he worked faithfully for HIMBO, and after that he went home and solved jigsaw puzzles until it was time for bed... except on the nights where Mr. M invited Derek to his house. Derek truly wanted nothing more from life.

Christian smiled at the new corporate boy that stood before him. “Okay I think you’ve handled the onboarding process well, Dirk. Dirk, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.” Dirk replied matter of factly. Dirk Kent. Filing clerk for HIMBO magazine.

“Great! But there’s actually one more thing I need from you. I’m still a little raw about that comment of yours earlier, and I would hate for it to taint our working relationship with each other, so allow me to bury this hatchet.”

Christian snapped his fingers, and Dirk felt his impressive manhood shrink, and shrink, and shrink, until he heard a “pop!” sound and knew that it was no more. Poor Dirk was smooth as could be in his private areas. But he didn’t mind: being unable to orgasm helped him focus on his work. And besides, if Mr. M needed help Dirk still had two perfectly serviceable holes on him.

Christian laughed again, eliciting another laugh from Dirk. “Dirk, pal, I don’t think I have ever been happier with one of my new hires. But you know, I do seal my deals with a kiss.”

“Why thank you sir!” Dirk replied with enthusiasm, as he allowed Christian to walk over, turn up his chin, and plant a kiss on his lips. And it was the greatest kiss Dirk had ever felt. Indeed, it was the only kiss he had ever felt, but as far as kisses go it was still pretty spectacular. As Dirk stood there with his lips pressed against those of his incredivle boss, he knew there was nothing more he would want from life.

As they parted, Derek looked hopefully up at his boss “Where should I start with my work, sir?” He lived to work.

Christian smiled again. “I’ll film you in on that in a minute, but let me take you to your desk. You’ll be down in the accounting department. In fact, I think you’ll be desk neighbors with our other new hire Bartholomew! You’ll love him. A total nerd but a sweet kid regardless.” Without warning, Christian turned and walked down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything. Dirk instinctively followed him, just as he instinctively obeyed every command Mr. M gave him. Life was easier that way.

#gaytf #gay #officetf #suittf #tyler hoechlin #suit #slick hair #derek hale #teen wolf tf #nerd derek #nerd Derek hale

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curioskitty · 4 years ago

Text

THE・Rarest Bakugou

Given Bakugou-kun's description as a "juvenile delinquent" (Horikoshi sensei uses the term 不良少年, or furyou shounen, meaning juvenile delinquent boy), it's expected that he wouldn't conform to standard. So obviously, it's not possible to find Bakugou-kun wearing a tie properly................

What is up with this perfectly tied nonsense right here?!

Bakugou-kun, I thought I knew you!!! THE LIES! THE BETRAYAL!!!

But, it's probably just a fluke. You didn't mean it, right Horikoshi-sensei?

WTF?! WHY?!!! Horikoshi-sensei?!

Yep. Contrary to expectations, Bakugou-kun wearing a tie correctly only ranks at Ultra Rare status: difficult to find, but not impossible.

So, what's rarer than a tie-wearing Bakugou-kun? Go Beyond, Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In fact, it's even harder to find Bakugou-kun wearing a tie improperly. Given proto-Bakugou's loose tie design, I would have expected that to be the likelier delinquent-esque tie option. But I've only seen Horikoshi-sensei draw him like this once:

(Horikoshi-sensei's one year celebration illustration. This is still fairly early in the publication.)

On top of that, Bakugou-kun consistently wears his uniform tie-less and with at least one button undone on his shirt collar. His pants are always slung low on his hips and legs bunching up at his feet (except when he had to wear jeans for Best Jeanist). You can even see panels where Horikoshi-sensei drew in the rips at the hems near the heel where they drag on the ground.

So why the inconsistency, Horikoshi-sensei? I see you over there, stop pretending you didn't notice. I know you're paying attention.

Horikoshi-sensei gave proto-Bakugou a loosened tie, so what is the reasoning for taking Bakugou-kun's tie away?

Some No-Tie Theories

Fan Theory #1: HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW

//Like Midoriya-kun, Bakugou-kun came from a middle school with gakuran uniforms. They never learned how to tie them. Midoriya-kun messes up his tie, while Bakugou-kun doesn't even bother to try.//

I actually think this is the least likely reason. Bakugou-kun was designed to be a naturally talented genius. I think this applies to anything he wants to do. If he does something, it's always perfectly done.

Bakugou-kun can (and does if you look above) tie it perfectly when necessary.

CONCLUSION: If Bakugou-kun doesn't do something, it's completely out of personal preference or because he doesn't see a reason to.

Fan Theory #2: REBELLIOUS NATURE

//Bakugou-kun is a delinquent and maintains that image because he thinks it looks cool. Or maybe he is rebelling against fashion designer parents. Either way, because of his family background he knows how to tie a tie, but wants to be a rebel.//

I'd give partial points for this one. I'm pretty sure he wears his pants loose at least partially because he thinks it looks cool. However, Bakugou-kun's parents were noted to be designers and not specifically fashion designers.

Despite appearances, this is the kid that sleeps at 8:30pm, doesn't break school rules, and yells at his friends for smoking.

He zips up the collar on his gym track suit all the way. Both the summer and winter versions get the same treatment. He doesn't feel the need to "make a statement" by wearing his track uniform incorrectly. Outside of class, he can and does sometimes wear his track jacket unzipped, but during class he always wears it properly.

So then why does Bakugou-kun refuse to wear the band T-shirt and Christmas party Santa outfit? Because he isn't cooperative. In Ultra Analysis, his Cooperativeness Stat was the lowest rank: E.

CONCLUSION: Bakugou-kun may be non-conformist and uncooperative, but he isn't a rebel.

Fan Theory #3: TRAUMA/PTSD

//This is one of the more popular theories. Between Dabi grabbing his neck, the Sludge Villain and being restrained at the School Festival, our boy has been through the wringer. As a result, he just doesn't like stuff around his neck because it gives him anxiety.//

The Western Fandom is definitely concerned about the mental health of the kids. But I don't actually think this is the reason. Not that I don't think they all need some therapy and self care, especially right now, but there just isn't evidence for this specific trauma in Bakugou-kun.

He wears scarves and even turtle necks without a problem.

On top of that, Bakugou-kun ALSO unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and gakuran in middle school; even from before the Sludge Villain incident. There isn't any evidence Bakugou-kun changed his dressing habits due to trauma. He wore a scarf to the entrance exam for UA, too.

CONCLUSION: Bakugou-kun has ALWAYS worn his shirts with the top button unbuttoned.

These 3 theories are inadequate, too. Even if they did explain the reasons Bakugou-kun doesn't wear a uniform tie, they don't factor in the reasoning for why he DOES wear his other ties properly sometimes.

HC#1: Bakugou-kun's preference

Bakugou-kun doesn't seem to care about his image and how "extras" see him. Even during the press interviews after his hero debut, he wore the same style of open collar look. He's not shy about being nude or taking his shirt off.

But what he hates is being uncomfortable.

He is "explosively brawny". Just look at how thick Bakugou-kun's neck is when compared to Midoriya-kun's. It isn't just that Midoriya-kun is supposed to be scrawny, but also that Bakugou-kun has a thicker than average neck.

Bakugou-kun doesn't like to button up his shirts all the way because it's uncomfortable. It's reasonable that he zips his track suit and everything else up because those are looser at the neck or made of stretchier materials.

As for why he doesn't wear the uniform tie at all... Don't forget Bakugou-kun is a perfectionist and a bit of a neat freak.

He always tucks his shirt in. For the band performance he wore a collared black dress shirt. From what we saw of his room, it's minimalist and clean. I don't see him wanting to look like a slob.

A sloppy loose tie would probably irritate him more than just not wearing it (which is even funnier when you think about Midoriya-kun's chonk tie. It probably makes him want to strangle Midoriya-kun, or maybe just tie it himself...)

Bakugou-kun has difficulties compromising when it comes to his high standards. So if he has to wear it, it's going to be either 0% or 100%.

HC#2: Explosiveness

Why draw Bakugou-kun with either 0% tie or 100% tie? If Horikoshi-sensei is going for a delinquent image, wouldn't the 50% tie option make more sense?

Taking a look again at Bakugou-kun's profile page, Horikoshi-sensei describes him to be explosive in every way. That includes his whole body being "explosively brawny", but also adds a note that he looks slender in clothes.

Horikoshi-sensei put an effort to make every element of Bakugou-kun's character in some state of either fully compressed or explosive.

His slimming clothes, general appearance and even his speech patterns are highly compressed (blunt/terse) and loud. The extremes of his attitude are compressed too; if Bakugou-kun is not loudly raging, then he's quietly observing.

This contrast is key to his character. You can't explode if you aren't compressed first. It's supposed to be shocking to see how brawny he actually is under his slenderizing clothes. And I always feel shocked whenever I see this kid compressed into a tie.

HC#3: Deku & Kacchan

These two are set apart from the class by design and very much on purpose. Horikoshi-sensei designed them to be at opposite ends of the same spectrum.

If Bakugou-kun has muscular arms, then Midoriya-kun needs muscular legs. If Midoriya-kun buttons up his shirt all the way to the collar, then Bakugou-kun's collar has to be loose. Their designs reflect their connection.

So if Midoriya-kun has a poorly tied tie, the opposite of that is either non-existant or perfectly tied. If it's perfectly tied, he'd just blend in with the class.

The no-tie option just makes more sense.

Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou

Horikoshi-sensei only ever draws Bakugou-kun with a tie in specific scenarios. Costume events that require the neck tie as part of the costume or "fancy" events where everyone is in formal wear. And even in those, Bakugou-kun manages to not wear his tie 90% of the time.

So, I just imagine that when Horikoshi-sensei makes Bakugou-kun wear his tie, he's super grumpy! Just look at his face in every illustration he's wearing a tie in. He's probably hot, uncomfortable, and really not enjoying himself at all.

Ultimately, the "Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou" is a Bakugou-kun who wears the tie and SMILES while doing it.

(Yes, I know that's NOT actually a tie. Shut up Bakugou-kun. You're only smirking in this one because you won the Popularity Poll for the 5th time in a row...)

(Well that's random, you say? Welcome to my blog. Considering the stuff going down on canon, I figured I should give fans, and myself, a break from angst to talk about something silly.

Please note that this applies only to the manga. I've found that the anime isn't quite so strict about how Bakugou-kun looks.

Regarding the headcanons, I just want to clarify that everyone is free to think whatever they like. I enjoy all headcanons and support your right to have them.

I wrote this a while ago and then debated posting it because it's such a huge meta about... Bakugou-kun's tie. I had regrets. But now it's become my new years post. Regrets were for 2020, it's already 2021!

Demons out, fortune in!!! I know it's not setsubun for another month, but 2020 was such a demon.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!)

#why did i write this #does this even qualify as meta #bnha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bnha randomness #bnha spoilers #bkdk #bakudeku #decchan #if you squint #bnha meta #boku no hero manga #Bakugou Katsuki's tie

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