#because that really is how I feel about his style

[heegyukeluv]

the devil wears prada (sjy)

pairing: idol!jake x afab!reader

synopsis: As Sim Jaeyun stepped out of Prada’s after party, everyone ignored his goodbyes to the sea of paparazzis, because the buzz was about the lucky person who got to disheveled his hair. Jake’s honest answer for that was: the devil. And she for sure wears Prada.

my's note: i love how everyone saw Jake’s after-party photos and thought the same thing (i'm everyone). disheveled hair jake after-party prada that’s all. and i just realized i don’t know how to write a quickie lol enjoy <3 (please take into consideration this is a work of fiction, this doesn't represents the artist's image)

warnings: SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, quickie but not really, public (?) bathroom sex, mirror sex, reader is quite dom with jake (i can't help myself), mention of alcohol. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 5.4k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

The air was thick with the scent of luxury – champagne and expensive perfumes mingling with the buzz of the conversations in every corner of the room.

You had your back leaning against the marble counter of the bar, fingers nonchalantly tracing the edge of your vibrant drink and eyes drifting through the sea of people. Everyone was dressed to impress, each guest showcasing their creativity through Prada’s clothes, accessories and shoes.

Working in the fashion industry came with perks, and being invited to exclusive after-parties was undoubtedly the best one. So you weren’t a stranger to this world. The glamourist atmosphere, the music playing as a soft background, the dim lights casting a perfect blend of elegance and casualness over the place.

It made your body shiver with joy, fulfillment at its most filling your chest, as the surroundings seemed to confirm what you already knew: you were in the right place – your place.

Earlier, at the main event, you watched the showcase with sparkling eyes, recording specific moments to use later as inspiration for your own creativity process. You loved how free you could be with your ideas while doing your work, not to mention the possibility of adding tons of yourself to it. Some might call it an egoistic behavior, as if your job existed solely for your own satisfaction. But the creation was yours, so why shouldn’t the outcome be about you too?

You took another sip of your drink, your sharp gaze scanning the room.

As soon as you stepped at the after-party, many other designers and some artists approached to compliment both your visual and your work, and you confidently talked with them. Yet, coming not from one, but from a few of them, there was an underlying tone; their praises were not solely aimed at your outfit or your impeccable creations, but rather an attempt to carve a path to your heart – or, perhaps, under your dress.

You never denied you had a good appearance. Together with your sense of style and your fearless demeanor, you enchanted anyone who crossed your way. The badass woman aura you exhaled was almost palpable and extremely hot for those who watched – with heart and lustful eyes – as you passed by.

Despite the usual lingering intense gazes on you, far from feeling intimidated or even shy by them, there was one pair of eyes burning deeper, piquing your curiosity as you kept on searching for its owner. 

It was like you every motion was being captured by them, following you across the room, and no matter how many conversations you effortlessly maneuvered through, all you could feel was the constant, intense weight of the said gaze.

After one more drink and some uninterested noddings at the guy who took place near you at the bar, you finally found him.

Sitting on the middle sofas of the main room, drink in hand, together with his group, devil eyes staring at you shamelessly, biting his lip and looking extremely hot as doing so.

You quirked an eyebrow in his direction, not even bothering to follow the bla-bla-bla coming from the random guy anymore, his words sounding like nothing to you at that point.

Especially because the attractive man looking at you didn’t even flinch after getting caught, as if it was the purpose from the beginning. If anything, he deepened eye contact in a daring, cocky manner, almost challenging you to react over the tension that started to hang in the air between you two.

Unlucky to him, you weren’t the type to follow anyone’s lead but yours, so you simply let out a soft scoff, a smirk tugging at your lips as you deliberately took another sip of your drink without breaking the new unspoken game – the one you were sure you would win.

You observed closely how he drifted his gaze away from yours just to blatantly check you out, stopping on your bare thighs for a moment before doing the same on your exposed chest, the neckline of your dress giving the perfect bait for men like him.

He shifted on his seat, gulping and then assaulting his lower lip with his teeth once more, as if trying to contain himself from running all the way to you, just to undress you properly instead of keep on doing that with his glare. 

You would be lying if you said that his demeanor wasn’t helping to ignite the fire from your core to your entire body, skin heating with a hint of desire. Even so, you waited patiently.

The random designer talking to you was long gone already, though you barely noticed, unnecessarily engrossed in your little game.

With a subtle, innocent tilt of your chin, you motioned your head slowly as a signal, beckoning him to come closer, without breaking eye contact. The simple gesture caught him off guard; his confident atmosphere stumbling to keep itself up, eyes growing wide in surprise, and you found it irresistibly adorable.

The corner of your lips curled when he stood up after whispering something to one of his friends, who quickly glanced at you and then showed a small smile. You finished your drink as he made his way over, his steps relaxed, but his eyes avoiding yours. You almost chuckled at the endearing scene.

As he approached, you noticed how young he seemed to be, perhaps even younger than you. Not to mention his incredible inebriating fragrance and self beauty – the plump pink lips and the high bridge nose perfectly sculpted doing things to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes straightaway dropping to your exposed neckline, lingering on the curve of your chest.

You leaned in just slightly, making sure he got a better view, batting your lashes with a sly smile. “Hey.”

Without asking for your preference, he ordered two drinks. You decided to let it slide for now – being surprised could be fun every now and then, and maybe accepting his drinks could be one of the keys to get something more.

“You’ve been turning heads all night.” He finally said after a while, the hot, aussie accent didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your body heat increased as an immediate response. 

As you tilted your head slightly, letting a small smile play on your lips, you smoothly replied with faux innocence. “Have I?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, thanking the bartender for the drink as he handed you one, oblivious of the rhetorical question. Your smile widened. “Can I know your name?”

“Y/N,” you politically extended your hand, eyes sharp on his face. His grip was hesitant, and the moment your fingers touched, an unexpected jolt of electricity shot through your body. You suppressed a slight shiver.

“Jake,” he introduced himself, caring little to nothing about showing how affected he got just by feeling your soft palm on his.

His breath hitched, getting caught on his throat as his eyes darkened. He couldn’t help but think about how your touch would feel elsewhere on his body.

The excitement flooded your chest instantly, you had to hold back yourself because you realized that if you wanted – and you so did – those perfect lips would be attached to yours in no time, and if you were lucky enough, they would be exploring other parts of your body as well.

“Nice meeting you, Jake.” You murmured, pronouncing his name with your most velvety voice, slowly pulling your hand away to grab your drink from the counter, sipping it.

Jake tracked your deliberate movements, wetting his slightly parted lips when he saw your red lipstick staining on the glass edge, utterly in disbelief he simply discovered someone who definitely came out from his wettest dreams, who would turn the smallest, innocent gesture into something sensual.

Even the simple act of blinking in his direction seemed meticulously calculated to make it hard to resist your advances, fueling the growing tightness inside his pants.

Not to mention how sexy his name rolled out of your beautifully tinted lips. 

Jake leaned his arms on the marble counter, turning his head to keep on watching you, as if your presence were an alluring, tempting show, happening right in front of his eyes just to damage his weak heart.

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He blurted out shamelessly, shattering the ‘cool’ facade he was trying to maintain under your intense gaze.

There was something about how sincere, seductive, and yet, desperate he sounded, as if his greatest longing in life was to have you right away. You were enjoying that guy so much so far. 

“I’ve noticed,” you chuckled with your eyes brimming with flirtation, shifting between his plush, kissable lips and his desire-filled orbs. “And are you planning to keep just looking?”

Jake blinked, momentarily taken aback with your quick and direct response. Although you had an obvious confident aura radiating through your pores, he definitely didn't expect you to be so straight to the point, thinking he would have to ease things a bit more.

And honestly? He found your vibe more exciting than he would like to admit. 

“I guess that depends on what you want,” he answered, voice dropping a tone, trying to match the energy you exuded.

Ignoring the chills running through your spine by his low murmur, you softly chuckled and leaned back against the bar, gaze still locked with his.

“Oh, Jake,” you teasingly cooed, grinning, with your voice dripping with amusement, “I always get what I want.”

It was visibly apparent how your words ignited something on his body, perking up in anticipation while his eyes deepened and his jaw clenched; if you looked close enough, you would see the slight bulge in his crotch area. 

Jake straightened his posture, finishing his drink in one go without breaking eye contact, hooded eyelids offering you the most magnetic sight you saw that night until that moment.

Then he leaned in closer, the tension between you two increasing with every heartbeat. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he whispered in your ear, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face.

As he walked towards the restroom area, his confident stride only added to the thrill. Men would be promising you the best night of your life just to leave you hanging and dealing with your situation alone. However, Jake seemed to exude an air of boldness blended perfectly with devotion, making a rush of anticipation bubbling in your core.

You let out a small laugh, not even caring about finishing your drink. The thrilling game had just started and you were so ready to play.

Jake’s lips tasted like heaven. And fancy liquor.

His hands were everywhere, but mainly on your ass and neck, his desperation evident by the way he pressed your back into the cold wall, sucking your lips as if his life depended on it.  

After following his traces, feigning indifference as best as you could to the open public, it took mere seconds before you felt his strong grasp on your hips guiding you into the bathroom – fortunately, they had private, separated spaces, making it easier for the two of you to steal as much privacy as the party allowed.

You could hear the muffled hum of the songs playing as a background, merging with the lewd sounds from the messy, hungry kiss you both shared and the soft groans rumbling from Jake’s throat as well.

Just minutes ago your plans were completely different; just some kisses and calling it a night, definitely not imagining things going further than that. However, the way Jake’s mouth skilfully moved against yours made you wonder how good it would feel in other places of your body, like in between your legs, and you just had to give it a chance.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, barely breaking the contact, lips already swollen and reddened due to your lipstick and your not so gentle bites. 

You hummed in response, unable to form proper words about how amazing of a job he was doing just by kissing you. 

Your fingers tangled in his silky brown hair, tugging without restraint because you quickly realized how much Jake liked it. He moaned, lips parting against yours with the intensity of the pull, your hazed gaze catching a quick glimpse of his eyes rolling back – an extremely devilish view.

Although stumbling a bit, Jake managed to easily place you at the edge of the sink’s counter by lifting you firmly gripping your thighs, the feeling alone making you wince as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support.

The room seemed to shrink as your breaths quickened, the boiling sensation bubbling in your stomach as you anticipated for more of his intense, heated, passionate touches. 

Jake, just as breathless, decided to assault the flesh of your neck and exposed collarbone, getting drunk on your scent and softness as he did so, loving how you tilted your head just enough to give him some more access to explore.

A soft moan escaped your lips and your fingers tightened on his hair when he nibbled your sensitive spot, close to your earlobe, sending jolts of electricity directly to your pussy.

You could feel a smirk creeping into his mouth, right before he questioned teasingly, slowly sucking the area. “Do you like that?”

You fought to keep your composure, a soft smile threatening to break through as the heat blossomed in your core. His breath tickled your skin, deliberately waiting for your answer while igniting every inch of you by keeping on playing on that spot. 

The first reaction you gave was another moan together with your nails digging on his shoulders and scratching his scalp. Then you admitted, still struggling to hold yourself back. “Fuck, yes. I do.” 

Jake cooed at you, gently pulling away from the curve of your neck to study your dazed expression; lips agape releasing heavy breaths, cheeks flushed with a delicate pink and eyes half-lidded, fluttering slowly, still dripping in the same confidence you once carried, as if even under his lead you were the one commanding.

“You look hot and messy, and I haven’t even started yet.” Jake teased, a playful smile gracing his lips as he pressed them against yours again.

“Do you always talk that much?” You murmured, not quite intending to judge his demeanor, but a bit annoyed and amused by how he appeared to need to hear you frequently while savoring you. 

“Only when I'm nervous.” Jake answered honestly with an awkward chuckle, helping you to remove his jacket, which landed straight on the ground and he couldn’t care less.  

“Oh, do I make you nervous Jakey?” You smirked, thirsting over his now exposed veiny arms. 

Watching Jake’s cheeks being painted with a faint blush while he swallowed hard under your sharp gaze, clearly getting flustered, brought back the control you thought was lost. 

“Maybe a little,” Jake tried to play it cool, but his voice came out smaller than he expected, and he tried to avoid facing you by leaning to kiss you again.

A glint of mischief sparkled in your eyes when you noticed he was losing his composure. You kindly held his head still, forcing him to keep his gaze on you. “Aw, come on, Jakey. Don’t shy away now,” you said, a smooth voice layered with playfulness and a sultry, almost mocking undertone. “You haven’t even started yet, isn’t that right?” 

Jake nearly moaned when he heard your words, not because of them itself but by how hot you sounded. His cock throbbed painfully inside his pants, his underwear probably stained with his leaking precum at that point. 

Jake got fooled at some moment by thinking he was the one in charge, even provoking you while exploring your desires initially, but the reality was that he had been following your lead like a lost puppy all along. 

There was something about how confident and dominant you seemed to be since the beginning, not faltering a single moment to his boldness, and somehow you carried that still, assuming the control gracefully, as if it was your job. And Jake was very grateful for you doing so.

His eyes softened and his breath hitched. 

“Tell me, what do you want from me?” The question slipped from his plush, beautiful lips, laced with desire and a touch of vulnerability without much cohesive thinking, clouded mind craving to satisfy you, because that meant his own fulfillment. “I wanna give you everything.”

Devoting to a devilish goddess like you was a tempting surrender he was eager to embrace.

You felt a pulse straight in your clit and your cheeks heating, the weight of his desperate words triggering your following behavior.

Jake saw the way your face brightened up, realizing he had opened the hell’s gate and he was eager to enter – if you were the personification of the devil, he was more than willing to drown into your lustful, tempting sea of sins. 

“What do I want from you?” You echoed, an amused grin curling the corner of your lips as your eyes traced Jake’s attractive features, pausing on his perfectly sculpted high-bridged nose, accompanied just below by his tasteful lips. You smiled, caressing it with your thumb. “I want them. Eat me out.” 

Jake’s breath got caught on his throat and his eyes grew in a slight surprise, not only due to your bold, straightforward request, but mainly because the idea of having your pussy in full display for him to play sounded too dreamy.

“Are you sure?” He asked in a low, contained voice, struggling to keep down his excitement, biting his lower lip, aiming to confirm he wasn’t going insane.

“I know what I want, Jake.” You cocked your head with a raised eyebrow. “And you?”

Jake’s eyes immediately dropped to your chest and then your bare thighs. The dress had ridden up due to the position so he was able to see a hint of your laced, black panties. He wet his lips, mouth watering while he lowered enough to bend comfortably and be eye level with your cunt.

You watched, fascinated by how in trance he seemed to be, as though your final word was the cue for him to dive into you completely. 

Your stomach fluttered in anticipation as you propped yourself up to help Jake slide your panties down your legs, gentle hands caressing your smooth skin as he did so. Then he grabbed your ass and pulled you forward, shooting you a quick glance and smile before burying his face between your legs, the smell of your pussy intoxicating his senses. 

He first gave it a small, slow kitty-lick, testing the waters, then frowned in pleasure, groaning with your delicious taste dissolving on his tongue.

A soft gasp slipped from your lips and you quickly pursed them to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, fighting the urge of allowing yourself to let go so easily. One of your hands searched for support on the edge of the counter and the other held on tight to Jake’s hair.

Jake gave a long, savoring lick, finishing with a delectable, lewd sucking noise in your clit, as if he was starting to make out with your pussy. Your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs feeling like jelly as a wave of weakness coursed through you.

His hot muscle started to work faster, steadier and precise in between your folds, your entrance and your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving each of them the right amount of attention.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you moaned shakily, unable to keep it low. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you threw your head back, unconsciously waving your body towards his face, practically griding on it.

Jake moaned with your praise, skilfully shaking his head whenever he flickered his tongue in your hole, just to rub your clit with his nose, before moving back to suck on it, entirely immersed on his duty to please you.

He was on cloud nine. 

Your taste flooding his senses, your body reacting to his stimulus, heating up and shivering under his precise touch, your pretty moans filling up the space straight into his ears, like angels singing – though he was sure you were a devil in disguise. 

Every noise coming from your throat was sending a rush of electricity directly into his dick, not to mention how your cunt became wetter and wetter with the lewd mixture of his own saliva and your arousal. Jake could die that moment and would be happy with it.

Reading the way your breathing grew heavy and feeling how you clenched around the tip of his tongue, Jake deduced you were near to the edge.

“I’m close–” You whispered, confirming his theory.

The knot on your stomach tightened when Jake began to focus mainly on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it, eager for your release – perhaps more than you. “I’m really close, Jak–”

Your arms nearly failed to keep yourself up as your orgasm hit, a long moan falling from your mouth interrupting your warning, your spine arching with the euphoria wave and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your juices coated Jake’s tongue, who took all of it proudly; you hissed feeling his mouth still working on your sensitive cunt, and you pulled him away by his hair.

Without a word Jake brought his lips to yours, making you taste yourself still hazy minded after your strucking climax. You groaned, slowly starting to move your hips to get down from the counter, Jake unconsciously helping you through it by supporting your weight until your heels landed on the floor. 

You lightly pushed Jake’s chest to move him away, meeting his dazed expression, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his veins. You grabbed the hem of his black shirt, quietly asking for him to remove it. And he did without hesitation.

"Fuck me," you demanded, taking a glimpse of his beautiful toned abs, a bit out of breath and even needier now. "Fuck me and watch you doing it through this mirror."

Jake flashed a quick grin, still recovering from the smothering and delightful feeling of being in between your legs, before fumbling with his belt, hands frantic undoing the button of his pants to slide them down.

You took your sweet time to thirst over the outline of his covered, extremely hard length, interrupting his actions by gripping his wrist, savoring the moment as you licked your lips, mouth watering.

“It’s a shame we cannot take much longer,” you started, fauxing innocence as you stepped closer just enough to touch him over his white boxers. A small, provocative chuckle coming from your throat before you murmured. “Really wanted to feel you in my mouth.” And then you kissed the corner of his parted lips.

Jake whimpered when you softly squeezed his neglected dick, leaning closer to you instinctively, holding onto the edge of the counter behind you while resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder. His breath was heavy against your skin, where he pressed his lips a few times until reaching your earlobe, nibbling. 

Your sneaky hands entered the hem of his clothing piece to jerk him off; your teasing, deliberate moves were driving him insane. The way your warm palm rubbed his sensitive tip made his groans increase just as much as his pulse, and he moaned a bit louder when you finally freed his aching dick out of his boxers by pushing them down, allowing your hand to pump his shaft easier. 

With closed eyes, you enjoyed the waves of pleasure going down, directly to your cunt, making you wet again by hearing Jake’s sultry noises and hot breath brushing against your ear.

Your lips grazed along his jawline at the same time you threatened your fingers through his slightly dampened hair, disheveling it even more before pulling it away from the curve of your neck, so you could capture his mouth in a slow, passionate kiss.

"Condom?" You asked under breath after parting away from his mouth, slowing your hand on his dick. You noticed his body tensing right after your question, eyes growing wide in panic, which piqued your curiosity.

There’s no way he…

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

You let out a soft scoff, part laughter, part disbelief. Without missing a beat, your hands resumed their movement, this time teasing him by randomly stopping, repeating the motion a few times. His moans grew louder, hips bucking desperately against your hand as if seeking more, his mouth agape and eyes glistening with despair.

"What a naughty boy," you cooed, slowly shaking your head in a false disappointment. "Were you planning on going raw with me, Jakey?" You questioned, voice low, layered with playfulness. 

Jake winced, desperation growing inside his chest, fearing you to leave him now, when he needed you the most.

"N-No..." He shook his head, “I wasn’t– I forgot, I’m sorr–” 

"Unluckily we just met.” You interrupted. “I don't know you well enough to let you do that. Right?" 

Jake nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was truly following your words. You were loving to see him falling apart so easily, almost begging for you not to leave him through his messy moans. 

His breath hitched and he almost grabbed your hand in place when you let go from his hard, red and needy cock. "P–please…" He finally pleaded, holding your waist as his eyes searched for yours in complete despair.

You quirked an eyebrow, smirking at his endearing demeanor. "Aw, you really wanna fuck me, don't you?" You caressed his cheek with your clean hand, smiling.

“I really do,” Jake whispered, moving his head just enough to kiss your palm. “Please, let me–”

“Not without protection, Jakey,” you said firmly, although with a hint of teasing, because you had a way out of that situation without harming your health.

And the said solution was inside your purse, which got tossed on the ground at some point of your initial make out session with Jake. 

Jake's puppy sad eyes followed your every motion when you moved his hands off of your waist, thinking he had messed up completely. But then he saw you grabbing your bag and taking a condom off of it, showing to him with a playful grin.

"And lucky to us, I'm always prepared, Jakey.”

You slowly approached him again, his gaze catching the alluring sight of you gently opening the packaging using your teeth, while your eyes confidently remained locked onto his, loving to see his bewildered expression.

Without a word, you slid the condom on his length, stroking it a few times before turning your back to him, bending over the counter and lifting your dress, revealing the beautiful view of your bare ass.

Jake’s firm hands instinctively gripped your hips and he positioned himself behind you while biting his lip in anticipation, the thrilling excitement boiling stronger in his cock.

He searched for your eyes in the mirror in front of you two, and of course you were already looking at him through your hungry orbs, savoring the image of Jake’s craving your body.

"Now fuck me as desperate as you seem to be."

Your words hung in the air for seconds before Jake’s mind snapped away from your tempting view in the mirror; your boobs nearly jumping out of your neckline, lips swollen but carrying the same confidence, and your eyes. Your fucking eyes. Your devilish eyes. 

“Your desire is my pleasure, Y/N.” It was all Jake managed to say with his low, husky voice, before pushing deep into you.

Your mouth fell open with the breathtaking sensation of being filled up, and Jake began to slowly pump into you, giving you a little time to adjust. Or you thought so.

You still had no idea that he was already stepping near the edge of his own release, that being the reason for his deliberate hip rolls – there was no way in hell he was going to let the opportunity of enjoying your delicious squeezes around his dick slip away that easily.

“F–fuck,” his voice cracked as he whispered. “You f–feel amazing...”

You looked at Jake in the mirror after hearing how weakly his words came out, as if he were already lost in a haze of his own pleasure. And he truly was. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight of his head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly parted, a faint smile gracing his lips.

When a specific deep thrust hit your g-spot, you almost cried out and Jake quickly paid attention to it. Then he bent you even more on the marble counter with one hand forcing your back, to ease his access to your sensitive area and help with his movements, speeding his hips the right amount to make you roll your eyes.

“T–that’s it...” You moaned. “Fucking me so good.” You praised and Jake groaned, his hands immediately sliding to cup one of your covered breasts, massaging it while keeping his pace, eyes locked at the insanely delightful view in the mirror.

A sequence of moans slipped out of your throat as Jake started fucking you hard and fast, desperately even. How your walls clenched tight around his cock was driving him insane, and he seeked for more of that addicting feeling.

The sound of the distant music did nothing to cover the slams sounds echoing the bathroom at that point, and honestly, neither of you cared anymore, far gone in your own pleasure.

At some point your own body started to encounter his pushes into you, but it wasn’t enough. So you straightened your posture a bit, tugging Jake’s hair while looking at his eyes in the mirror – his fucked up expression sending shivers down your spine. 

“Faster, Jake.” You urged, a bossy tone dripping out of your mouth like a sweet sugar that Jake grew obsessed with. And he instantly obeyed.

Your free hand cupped Jake’s on your boob and your eyes fluttered close while you tilted your head back, lost in the amazing feeling of Jake pounding into your g-spot, a mess of moans and whimpers coming from both of your mouths. 

Since he had his eyes open, Jake watched your body quivering with his thrusts, the fucking Prada logo on your dress shining with the dim light of the bathroom, your makeup slightly smeared due to the mess. It was completely out of this world how good you looked, and the way you were squeezing his dick together with the view, sent him even closer to the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum–” He said in one go, as an eager statement, not a warning, desperate to feel his release. 

Your breath started to quicken with his erratic pace, and you fluttered your eyes open again, catching the sight of Jake’s concentrated frown and mouth agape, letting out the prettiest moans you ever heard.

You said nothing, you just tightly gripped the hand on your chest and leaded it to your clit, inciting him to rub it for you. Jake got your message, and with all the overwhelming stimulus, your second orgasm hit, mouth falling open gasping for air as you supported yourself on the marble counter, your head falling forward while you kept on feeling Jake’s deep thrusts.

You clenched involuntarily around his dick, and that was enough for him to achieve his climax as well, resting his head on your shoulder, holding you close still.

Jake moved back with a hiss, completely dizzy and fulfilled. He removed the condom and tossed it onto the trashcan before dressing himself back again, helping you to recompose since your legs were shaky.

“Thank you,” you said in a hoarse voice when he offered you your purse and your panties, to which you decided not to wear again because, well, it was on the floor.

So you cheekily pushed into Jake’s pocket without saying a word, and he didn’t even noticed, too focused on looking out for you by supporting you to keep steady. 

You turned to the mirror, fixing your messy hair and makeup as best as you could. 

“How do we get out of this bathroom now?” Jake asked after the silence, watching you re-apply your red lipstick. 

You just smiled, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek to purposely leave a mark there. “Like this.” And you simply opened the door, not even caring about the instant stares you received as you did so, Jake following your lead right behind, a small shy smile adorning his lips. 

With a last goodbye look, you parted ways, your confidence evident in your stride, and Jake fumbling to smooth down his disheveled locks, now with the acknowledgment that the devil definitely wears Prada.

[court-jobi]

Hi, lately I came across your blog and I really adore your writting style :3

I was very excited when I saw you have open requests (if I am not wrong, otherwise ignore me hah), so I have request for Bakugou × reader, when they are in established relationship, but lately it got rocky, because he was barely home, trying to climb ranks and just neglecting their relationship, so they barely even talk. Then reader gets kidnapped, due to being Bakugou's SO, but she feels so irrelevant at this point that she starts saying to the kidnapper that they are wasting their time, because Bakugou is not coming for her, whick Katsuki overhears, you know just good old angst with fluff at the end maybe

If this request is too complicated or specific please don't feel pressured to do this, anyway have a lovely day/night

I am very much receptive to asks, and thank you so much for providing one!! super flattered actually and spent my entire afternoon crafting up this bad boy bc I had an instant idea for it

Hopefully I touched all the right notes on this one, enjoy anon! Don't be a stranger~

Do It Scared

Words: 4.9K

Warnings: Pro Hero!Bakugou x reader TW: kidnapping, intimidation, light descriptions of violence, protective Bakugou is protective, language, angst with a happy ending (promise!!) and potential spoiler: Pro Hero!Deku

for my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Dynamight is on top of the world– or at least working his ass off to get there.

With Deku back on the leaderboard, he’s got twice the motivation and has never been in love with being a hero more.

“That’s what -heh- nine for you this week, Dynamight?” the newly suited Pro beams at Bakugou- not unlike the five year old version of him did back a lifetime ago.

Only instead of bashing the twerp upside the head with a gloating tease, Bakugou simple smirks and gives Midoriya a stiff push on the shoulder, 

“Ten, but who’s counting, nerd?”

The winded, black-and-blue villain currently under custody finds the heroes’ track records funny. Midoriya doesn’t necessarily take these villain types’ remarks to heart, but hates the attitude of this one today.

“Yer sidekick keepin’ count?! You wanna badge or a chest to pin it on, smartie pants? –AAGH!”

“HEY- THE ONLY GUY CALLIN’ THIS DEKU A NERD IS ME, DUMBASS!! YOU’RE THE SHITHEAD GOING TO JAIL FOR THAT STUNT– AND HE’S HEADING INTO THE TOP TEN!!”

“HO-OKAY, DYNAMIGHT, I think he’s had enough!!” 

Deku corrals the punk’s restraints a bit, but leaves the remaining process of reading rights and detainment for the police who just rolled up. Deku will proudly share that much prefers this ‘thick as thieves’ treatment to the ‘fight me or die’ dynamic they shared in school, and couldn’t be happier to be Pro Heroes once again.

And if Bakugou were completely honest, so was he. He’s in his element and closer to reaching his goal by the day.

Walking out of earshot from the police unit, the two are heading over to Ingenium and Creati who are deeply engrossed with the intelligence officers who just arrived on the scene. 

“Ten it is, then– you really need to start leaving some to me though; I can handle it, you know,” Midoriya slips his facemask down, exposing a pleading grin Bakugou still kinda wants to punch some days. “Might give you a little time to actually take a rest day now and then!”

“Tch, if you were fast enough, you’d do it, ‘Zuku.” Bakugou straightens out his gauntlet, but misses his best friend’s tilt of a frown. “N’ who said I need a rest day, anyway? I’ve never been better!”

“I can think of one person..” Midoriya hinted strongly at something that truly escaped Bakugou’s focus. Every now and then, he couldn’t quite mindread the nerd like normal, if he was deep in work mode.

“Heh?”

Midoriya raised a friendly, tired brow, “How’s your girl been lately, hm?”

Bakugou tenses a touch, but quips back, “Whaddya mean. She’s fine, been working a lot too.”

“Not as much as you. What’s she up to? You haven’t said much about her.”

Which was an oddity, indeed. Your successes, your insights, and even your random memes were common topics of conversation from Bakugou’s lips. But Midoriya did raise a finer point between the lines– you’d been put on something of a backburner, and he knew better that something must be off for the blond porcupine to rarely speak of you. Bakugou sensed it himself, but the more repeated check-in texts he received, the cycle of his non-answers worsened. This must be what the nerd is getting at.

“She’s fine-” Bakugou pressed, assuring himself and no one else, “Look, we’ve got our flow, and it works. I keep her in the loop when I’m busy and she gets it.”

Midoriya heaves a disbelieving breath, and just fixes Bakugou a look.

“What’s that shitty look for, huh? Whaddyou know?!”

“I know when she texted me yesterday that she doesn’t sound thrilled about your overtime…” the freckled sweetheart touched a personal chord within Bakugou. “Or that she hasn’t even heard from you to talk about it? I mean, I-I know it’s not my business, but Ka-”

“Deku, Dynamight!” Iida waved the two over from their aside, and back into work mode- to Bakugou’s drop in spirit, “We have a bit of a time-sensitive mission to take care of~”

Deku turned to the officer, raring to go and and straightening up his shoulders to address their more formal counterparts, “Of course, officer- how can we help?”

“Well sirs, we’ve got an ongoing heist over on the other side of the riverbank, and need a bit of coordination to respond.”

Yauyorozu had just finished off a protein pack of some sort and had demurely crumpled its trash in her hand while navigating an ipad passed to her. She’d welcomed Midoriya over when he took interest in whatever footage she’d been presented.

“Well shit, we supposed to be standin’ around like this when time’s wasting, or what?” Bakugou asked brusquely.

Ingenium -in his formal, helmeted fashion couldn’t hide his practiced patience well with the hothead in his response;

“The need for firepower is necessary, Dynamight– but caution is as well,” Iida reminded dryly. “We are in a heavily populated area, and must exercise control.”

Bakugou merely purred a low growl and turned diplomatic.

“Fine. We got live wires? Hostages?”

“To our knowledge, only a select few- a dozen at most,” the officer answered, “We can see most of the victims through the bank’s glass lobby. It’s a small, petty theft group- or so we thought, but there are some decent quirk users among them. Seems they are after more than funds, but records as well.”

Bakugou refrained from rolling his eyes, but only barely. Surely there were bigger and better missions to be pursuing than this– something a bit flashier, more suited for his skills with higher civilian rescue numbers to add to his count.

“One guest was able to contact via the emergency text line, and reported that someone did pull an emergency trigger and was taken further back into the vaults as a prisoner.”

Iida empathized, “Hardly fair- I’m sure none of these customers were armed, and they were simply acting as any hero would trying to notify the authorities.”

The officer firmed up a smile in agreement and proceeded to share some more info about how far back into the bank the team would need to infiltrate based on proximity to servers. 

“Sure you don’t just wanna call ‘Tape’, bust in there, strap ‘em up, and call it a day? Y’don’t really need a whole evac team, do you.”

A simple rescue in-and-out should be easy enough, or so he assumed- until Yaoyorozu took a bit of a sharp intake of breath in her nose, alerting Deku to fixate on the screen again,

“Bak- erm. Dynamight,” Yaoyorozu interjected gently, “-you need to see this-”

Bored and still half paying attention to the officer, Bakugou only barely looked Momo’s way, and didn’t really feel like a crowd around a tiny screen -in full sun- was warranted.

“What? It’s frickin’ bright out-”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya shot back icily, “get over here.”

Something alarming had struck him in the face, and he was purposefully putting on a front to those not personally connected to the heroes. Sidestepping ‘Legs’, Bakugou was passed the ipad and played back the security footage of the interior of the bank.

Time stamped at just fifteen minutes ago, a civilian in question had tried dipping around the counter to where some clerks had been bullied up to the opposite wall- but one of the employees jerked her head towards one of the registers- a lightning quick gesture. This cued the civvie -a woman, if the hiked up skirt was a correct indication- in the foreground to feel around the bottom lip of the keyboard for something- likely an alarm switch. Once done so, she’d merely knelt back down, hoping to stay low and sneak back to avoid the thug to lash out at the person who’d tipped her off.

But then -comically enough- the thug sneezed and unfortunately whipped to the side to let it fly. Looking up, there she was in his sightline. With something akin to a spider’s web knocking her flat onto her back, she’d been dragged up and back with the others- trying to ground herself with a squatted stance first, tried to force her elbows back, then bashing her head back in an attempt to hit her captor– until she was ultimately slapped and taken back to the far hallway, hunched over.

Bakugou saw red. His heart stopped then set itself on fire, hotter than Hades. He’d known that self defense response from having taught it, himself.

You pulled the alarm. 

For the first time in his career- he knows the target he’s saving. He’s in love with her, after all.

Damn your neck hurts. If your elbows hadn't been glued up to your sides, you woulda used those instead; but now having jerked your head back, you’d given yourself a healthy dose of whiplash.

And got a punch to the gut. And a slap to the face. Joy.

There’s fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. You’d seemingly gone for the fight route, with your body moving before your self-preservation could catch up, but it seems your fawning tactic of remaining calm and quiet wasn’t working out for you now. At least you took the attention off those poor girls in the lobby who were in near hysterics. 

Only now it seemed you’d taken on the role yourself, back here. You try to breathe deep, drop your shoulders, drop your jaw. You’d think this would double to avoid showing any fear that your captors can use against you, but it’s honestly just to help keep you grounded and not panic and curb the intense need to vomit or cry.

Please. As if you’d even call yourself heroic for pulling the theft alarm– but you suppose it’s instincts. Carry-over bravery: osmosis you assume, from hanging around these heroes. Your hero. Katsuki.

You’re stunned– you’re shocked– and you’re scared. 

Katsuki. You want Katsuki. More than the police, more than your mom. 

You want your hero to come for you, over any other in this entire country. The name pounds behind your eyes when you shut them against a wave of pain, the person you want more than anything else in the world.

–And at the same time, that man’s name hurts at the cry for it: given he hasn’t spared you more than a one or two word response in days. Because he’s overworked by his own volition. By his own drive. And you should be angry. You have been, for this is the longest you haven’t seen each other outside of a trip; considering you’ve all but committed your lives together and he’s typically at your place every other night, the drop in communication is a cold bath.

And you’re scared now- it’s a blurry feeling. Time is wonky when you’re stuck in a room with no windows, no visible clock and just waiting. All those tips they tell you about how to react in an emergency to keep calm? The ones you’ve heard over and over again in security briefings and teacher preparedness days before the school year starts? Man, is it easy for those to go out the window when you’re in actual trouble.

You just want Katsuki. And that’s a silly thought, considering how wide the city is. He could be clear across the district right now.

But just saying the name -thinking of any other pleasant time when he had his arms around you play-fighting that could make these bindings feel more bearable- that’s what you want to cling to.

The villains here are pretty pathetic as interrogators go, but that spares you no calm as they taunt you as if you were a captured magistrate or politician. They’re split into two parties; their head honcho trying to tap into the databanks of the servers two doors down while your immediate captors with the creepy quirks are choosing to go through your recovered phone seeking out blackmail like the assholes they are. Your primary apps for insurance and paying your bills are thumbprint protected, so really what could they get to that's confidential? Nothing, to your knowledge. But it seems your camera roll strikes their interest. 

Oh yeah, they hit low. They see your lock screen first- a sweet photo of your harmless, dopey dog who they snark that you won’t be home to feed on time. Then even more, as your home screen displays a picture-perfect selfie of you and your darling man. You picked it because it’s rare proof of him smiling at some wisecrack you made before snapping the shutter.

Your handsome and infuriatingly busy man. 

“Aww, well just look at little miss hero’s cute lil boyfriend! Bet he’ll be awful proud of you playing the savior~”

“Tehehe, too little too late though, yeah? Gotta be quicker than that for us.”

“Geez, how sappy can you get. This guy’s all over her…and can’t blame him, honestly. Makes me feel a little bad for roughing such a pretty thing up.~”

Gross. Just gross. You act like you don’t listen, your simpering pain turns to nausea the more they talk. Until a renewed sense of fear hits:

“Wait- go back. Oh. Ohhh shit, no.”

“Whuh.”

“Fuck, man, that’s DYNAMIGHT!!” the jerk with the copious amounts of tattoos and chains draping off his arms like whips gets nervous real fast, “We have Dynamight’s girlfriend!!”

Your other guard seems to swallow for a split second, but immediately tips to a feigned dominance,

“Well, ain’t that just icing on the cake~”

“THE HELL DO YOU MEAN? He’s gonna come after her!! You know how scary that guy is?! I’m telling the boss-”

“Don’t wimp out already,” he fires back. “Why do that and waste time- when knowing this, we could get paid double? Heroes ransoms can cost him a pretty penny, and you know he’ll do it for her. Those heroes make bank.”

You flatten your brows angrily. 

“Whaddya think, princess? Big man gonna come and save you, huh?  

You really want Katsuki. But you truly have no idea if he’d know or care to come at this point. The spiral downwards in the mind is dizzying along with your headache, and just makes your heart sick for him. 

When you see him next, you’re not sure if you’d hug him or throttle him. Though now, you just wanna see him. 

“Unless.. He doesn’t!” his mood shifts- patronizing, “Too busy makin’ a paycheck and name for himself and all his hero buddies than to settle down and think about the pretty thing at home? Well, I would fix that real quick–”

A muffled boom sounds on your right. Rooms away.

Another, louder. Two beats after, the guards look at each other.

You hear a yell, a harsh one, then another blast that sounds cracklier than the rest. Someone’s close. But you’re honestly not sure if it’s friend or foe.

You’re excited, but get nervous again when the lackeys move into action. Chains loops a rough swing of his appendages around you and starts dragging you back into the adjoining office, while the muscle goes back to type at one of their private laptops that’s downloading something.

You give off a flare of panic in your voice- a sound you hate but can’t control. 

“It’s-s not him–” you force your pitch lower, but it shakes despite your best effort. “Cmon, there’s too many heroes, s’not gonna be him–  n’there gonna come an’- bust yall anyway!! Whaddya want me for?!”

As you’re dragged, you catch a glimpse of shine from above you. In the vent, you see mustard yellow and teal saturated with shadow- all metal. Then, his voice, through a comm on his wrist that flashes in the reflected light:

“Got her. Light it up, on your left.” 

Both lackeys drop what they’re doing and look up to see the vent kicked into the floor– and the wall totally blown in from your right. 

Dynamight -the Symbol of Victory- and Deku -the Symbol of Peace- are dropping in at breakneck speed, though the former is out for blood.

“ALRIGHT, WHICH ONE OF YOU FUCKERS AM I KILLING FIRST??”

Deku’s landing creates a decent wind with his jump, revealing Bakugou behind where the door usually is, and clocking your position almost immediately. 

It’s a powerful thing, to see him in action- you’ve certainly never seen it in person, and you’ve never heard him this mad. To his credit, he never raises his voice enough for you to fear it.

He spots you and the guy who rushes him, but just snarls, evades his whip of weighted chains entirely, grabs him by the calf, and chucks him into the opposing wall with a spinning throw. Then, he sets straight to you.

“DEKU!!” he shouts to Midoriya, “Trash, at your ten!!”

“On it!” Your angel from the ceiling ducts is currently laying into the other guy, but keeps the reeling villain in his sights before he can get up and strike again. You imagine the sucker has more than a few broken bones (or truly is dead, as promised)… he doesn’t move from his figure on the floor.

While you’re still coughing up a storm from the drywall throwing dust everywhere, Bakugou comes to your side and immediately picks your bound body up in a rush from the chair you were perched on.

“C’mere you-” 

He sounds rushed and spent, huffs it out of the room and into a separate office down the hall. 

You spot Ingenium and Creati moving on to the other end of the hall where you know the final villain remains, but you can already hear the squeals of said wimp once Iida bursts in. This will be quick work for the rest of them, so you weren’t worried Dynamight would be needed anymore.

Inside an executive’s office, Bakugou kicks the door behind him shut with his heel and sets you on the dearest flat surface- a decently sized desk.

“Hey you- you still with me?”

You don’t realize you’re breathing so fast until he’s looking you square in the face with split concern. It’s night and day from when he burst in after one of his more gusty explosions, his voice all cracked and high in pitch.

“Cmon, baby look at me- here, let’s get this crap off of you..”

Your gasps for air turn wet and you can’t keep yourself from crying anymore. It would be notably sweet that he still tries his hardest not to curse wildly around you, but right now you don’t care what font his expletives are in. Every bit of stress leaving your body all at once is a rush for your senses and your emotions.

“Kats~”

After his pocketed knife’s quick, careful work separating your arms from your waistline covered in a still-sticky webbing, he sheaths the blade again and collects you up when you launch yourself at him. 

Bakugou holds you hard and fast and you can’t even be bothered to worry about how his shoulder pauldrons are nearly choking you. He’s got you back in his arms, and he’s just saved your life.

“I’m here,” he grunts to you, relieved beyond measure, “I’m here, sweet’eart. You’re safe.”

You’re so thankful. You’re so happy-

“N’d I am so sorry.

-You’re so confused.

In a flippy tone that betrays what heightened nerves you’d just gone through, you ask, 

“Huh?”

Bakugou’s fingers thread into your hair when you try and pull back-

“Don’t. S’the first.” His iron-sure voice wavers, “I- I haven't hugged you all week.”

Then, you’re both crying into each other, and it’s a healing thing. 

Dragging careful nails across the back of his hero suit, you try to offer a tiny bit of comfort to this mass of man cradling you on this desk. You know you’re still in dire need to talk about his recent absence, but what a reunion this was. Feeling him after a seven or eight day stretch of near radio silence changes the degree of flame you hold against him. Honestly now, you’re in the mind to think he deserves a pass entirely. 

Bakugou finally lifts enough to press a kiss to your head, but makes no move to let go of you. “I’ve missed you, baby.”

Has he? He’s barely texted you past the ‘I’m heading out’ and ‘I’ve gotta sleep’ with no room to offer or reciprocate any form of love between you; so much so, it threatened to make you doubt. 

“Have you? I haven’t heard.”

“No, you haven’t. And that’s all on me.”

You turn your head very slowly- your entire neck is still tender, but you'd rather listen to him with an ear to his chest, where you belong. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you settle on the truth. You might have more to say when you’re not so exhausted, but the truth is you’ll still love him no matter what, and you do always miss him.

You miss every moment, big and small. His wins and losses. Nights where he’s high off a victory or the ones where he’s bone-tired and in his head about how weak he must seem. Nights where he takes out his hearing aids and just wants to fall into your silence to sleep safely, and the mornings where he’s up and ready to go take on the day after he has your kiss and hug to charge him up. Whether he has your chapstick smeared up on his cheek, or the promise of your arms to hold him in whatever state he greets you when he comes home, you just miss him. You notice when he’s not there. The house seeks him out, with lights on for him to find his way inside, and low music to soothe what anger might have followed him home.

You take a few moments to just soak each other in. You hope and pray he’ll come home with you after this.

And thank the Maker, your prayers might just be answered.

“This was a wake-up call, sweetheart.” Bakugou sounds a bit bolder, but still talks softly to you and the dust mites around you, “I’m takin’ a leave. A long one.”

The way he promises time off is something he’s toyed with before, but never followed through on.

“You can’t do that, Kats,” there’s no coldness to the words, but you mean it.

“Yes I can. It’s my race; I can step away.”

You sigh against his pec, “I’m.. I’m not asking you to. I can’t, that wouldn’t be fair.”

To you, sure. But not for his dream. Not the dream he’s worked and fought and lived for since before you met, and long before he fell in love with you. You’d supported him in this chase to save everyone and be the best at what he does from day 1, and you’ve never wavered on that– you still wouldn’t, even if someone asked you now feeling as dejected as you do by his absences–

“Tch. Y’know what's not fair?”

Bakugou finally loosens his grip on you to lift your chin up to him with thick, strong fingers, 

“Leavin’ you for days on end; waiting up, worried sick. Leaving, and just assuming you’ll still be there when I get back. And now you’re getting fuckin’ snatched the minute I turn my back on what we have. That isn’t right.”

The correlation is irrational- this incident today was a freak accident. You couldn’t have planned it- or certainly hope that your identity as his significant other is not going to be weaponized. Shuffle in the hallway beyond tells you that the possibility of that information leaking is sufficiently locked up along with them. 

Surely Izuku would have grabbed your phone– and maybe set you up a new lock screen with a mean mug to poke some fun at ‘Kacchan’.

You slump against him, at the sound that he’s being too hard on himself, and that’s not what you want for him either.

“I just miss you, Katsuki. And I want to see you succeed.” you study the bold ‘X’ across his chest with fondness and heartache mixed, “I want both those things. I just can’t help but wonder if you have to go at it so fast? And so hard, where I never see you? Like you’re racing against the clock to be #1? I just want you there in one piece; I don’t care how long it takes.”

You have no doubt he’s going to land the spot before he’s thirty. You just hope for a balanced ascension to the height of his power and ability. And selfishly… you hope you’re in the picture of his life when he does.

Bakugou hears and you do believe he listens, as he smooths a calming hand up and down your arm all the while.

“And today..” you clam up a bit with an uncontrollable shake, “Today was- scary. But you couldn’t help that. Any more that you can help it from happening t’ anyone. I know that,”

And you look up at him despite the burn it causes you. And -a funny contrast to your still teary eyes- you smile.

“-but you did save me. And that was- honestly one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The comment strikes him as funny, too, since he gives a little chuckle.

“Me blastin’ in and causing you to choke on my smoke?”

You nodded briefly.

“Kinda hot, all things considered.”

Unbelievable, his headshake and eyeroll at how easily you can -and will- make jokes. Perhaps it is the shock still, deflecting with humor. 

You do realize how fragile it is because when you laugh at the absurdity, you catch his eye again and you look just a little too long before you’re sniffling. 

The reality is that you could lose him at any time: whether by his end or yours. He’s got the more dangerous job by far, but if today was any indication on your part, you shouldn’t just think yourself as a shoe-in for safety.

Bakugou cups your face in his hands to make himself perfectly clear.

“You’re the hero today, angel. Watched you in 16-bit as you snuck back there, taking that bastard into next week. You saved every- single- one of them.” he placed a kiss on each word as he praised you. “I am so damn proud of you.”

Your hands still skipped, limbs jumpy. 

“I don’t feel like a hero.”

His lashes lured you in as he gazed at you through them, “Doesn’t mean you aren’t one. You did it scared. That’s pretty hot, too.”

You huffed your amusement as he thanked you in his own way. Best to let him carry on before he’s whisked away again. 

Just as you thought he might release you in ushering you out of the office, Bakugou takes you by the hands so that you can stand, then keeps you in place by his immovable stance.

“Things are gonna change,” he vows, “because none of this shit matters if I don’t have you. Yeah I want you now, but I’m gonna want you after my fire’s burnt out. Which means, I gotta pay attention. I have to set ‘who matters’ just as high as ‘what matters’ and remember why.”

Touched by every word, your trembling lessens. You take in his warmth and his care and his explosive loyalty with confidence and nod in agreement.

Taking one last selfish hug, you sink into your hero again, standing more as equals than you usually feel being held by him. He’s lifted you up in more ways than one. Enough to let safety back into your heart, enough to tease,

“That can’t be your line. When did ‘Zuzu’ give you that one?”

“Hey,” Bakugou flicked you in the temple lightly, “I can be nice too, dammit.”

“Sure you can,” you kiss the dip of his neck in apology.

“You’re just always nice, you can’t appreciate the difference.” he pouts, taking your hand and leading you out of the office.

“...Sure I can.”

You have to give him a solid shot– he’s nothing if not insistent with what he wants.

Outside the room, there are a host of officers, photographers, medics and heroes aiding in the recovery efforts, so you relax your hand in his to let go,

–only he doesn’t let you.

Bakugou glances to you, “You’re in shock, extra. You need to get checked out.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Dynamight,” you chortle with a little head bobble like you would have normally done, only now the movement makes you wince.

“That’s what I thought. OI, Deku- where’s her sh-phone?”

The iron hero stands with the receptionists, looks to you both and smiles gratefully, before nodding off to his company and joins you-

“This, I believe, belongs to you, maam~” he perks up as he comes around to your other side. It’s not so much that you have to pretend to be strangers, but in this high-traffic place, it seems easier to fall into roles of ‘heroes’ and ‘thankful public’.

“How kind, Mr. Symbol of Peace~ I’d be missing this!”

Double checking your lock screen, he did -in fact- change your cover screen to a playful selfie: pointing at the crumbled remains of the wall they’d broken into, with the caption:

>>Whatever Kacchan wants, Kacchan gets <3<<

Muting your laugh, you simply tilt your phone Bakugou’s way and catch Midoriya’s quick wink back to you, before he sets off running with a screaming boyfriend sprinting after him.

At least Katsuki showed up back at your place at 6:30PM on the dot, fixed you both a salmon dinner, and started getting your baseline of support back on track. With his next two weeks off and barely keeping his hands off of you so far, you believed he was making good on remembering his why.

[ckret2]

I know that this is probably because you don't render Bill's body hair (you specifically mentioned his unshaved legs in the text!), but for some reason I'm disappointed that we don't see any fuzz poking from the bikini. Not, like, for sexual or scandal reasons, it just... feels like he'd be showing fuzz. It's so hard not to if you don't shave. Possibly intentionally, if it let him put another yellow triangle on his body.

Yeah, that's a detail I specifically thought about. I assume that Gravity Falls is much like the rest of the US, in that the women shave/wax their legs, pits, and bikini lines, and the vast majority of the men don't.

So, since Bill doesn't shave either, I figure that (after excluding beards & chest hair) he looks exactly as hairy as the average man in Gravity Falls. Such as the hair on the pits, groins, and legs of all these men:

Notice that (minotaur fur aside), all their pits, legs, and happy trails are baby-smooth.

When Gravity Falls wants to indicate EXCESSIVE hairiness, they do it through chest hair and, rarely, arm hair, on occasion making that hair look as thick as fur:

And that's it. (Notice that in the fire hydrant scene, which was used specifically as a "Dipper Wishes He Was This Grown Up & Masculine" scene: still no pit hair.)

Manotaurs aside, I was only able to find two examples of men depicted with leg hair. (And, in Sprott's case, maybe pit hair, though it's ambiguous.)

In both of these cases, the leg (and pit) hair are drawn on as jokes about how disgusting these men's near-naked bodies are.

I doubt that every male resident & tourist in a rural Oregon town waxes his pits & legs. Stan, the Manotaurs, America guy, the cops, Old Man McGucket who lives in a junkyard?? They are not shaving their pits. All the men pictured above probably have normal quantities of body hair; they just aren't illustrated in the show, because that's a detail the show decided wasn't significant to illustrate—like irises, or fingernails, or half the characters' ear folds.

The only time men's body hair is illustrated is to indicate that it's excessive and the only time it's added to pits or legs is to indicate that it's disgusting.

I did my research before deciding how to draw Bill! Based on the visual language that the show uses, if I had drawn his body hair—pits, legs, bikini line in any combination—I would have indicated that he's hairier than everyone else in town, and that it's disgusting enough to warrant rendering in greater detail than anybody else's body hair.

And going "HEY EVERYBODY! LOOK AT HOW THE CHARACTER WITH TITS DIDN'T WAX HIS BIKINI LINE!! ISN'T IT UNIQUE AND NOTEWORTHY HOW HE DIDN'T WAX HIS BIKINI LINE? EVERYBODY CHECK OUT ALL THAT HAIR POKING OUT! THIS SURE IS WAY MORE NOTEWORTHY AND DISTRACTING ON A CHARACTER WITH TITS THAN IT WOULD BE ON ANY CHARACTER WITHOUT TITS, SINCE WE NEVER BOTHER TO DRAW THEIR HAIR—BUT LOOK AT THIS ONE'S HAIR! IT'S WAAAY MORE ATTENTION-GRABBING THAN IT WOULD BE ON SOMEONE ELSE'S BODY!"

... is the exact opposite of what I want to do.

And I offer that as free advice to other artists, because this is something I keep seeing artists do: if you're giving a character a detail that isn't usually depicted in your chosen art style—body hair's a really common example—ask yourself if you're adding that detail on to every character that has that detail. If you are, great! But if you aren't, and if it turns out it's only one or two characters whose body hair you've fixated on... maaaybe ask yourself why, and what signal you're sending by highlighting that detail with them and only them.

[radiation]

My Thoughts On MORPHEUS

Rewatched The Matrix yesterday. Everyone knows that Morpheus is fucking dope, but few realize he is one of the most moe characters of all time. Here is why:

Ok so at the beginning of the movie, Morpheus really appears to be this mythical figure, and that's how a lot of ppl view him. But something often overlooked is that, as the movie progresses, the more you see Morpheus acting mundanely, dressing normally, making mistakes, and getting the absolute shit beaten out of him & needing to be saved. Seriously, the gap between how he comes off when he first contacts Neo (larger-than-life, near-omnipotent) and when he gets kidnapped (totally fallible & vulnerable) is huge. You also see other characters doubt his absolute faith in Neo and it’s like wow yeah. This is really just some dude who is incredibly driven and passionate, and dedicated to his own ideals to a fault. He acts the way he does because he has a very clear image of the role he needs to play and has structured his life around it, choosing to embody this whole badass character in order to fulfill it. And from the way his appearance of perfection is shattered later in the movie in moments of monotony or when things spiral out of his control, I really believe how he acts when he meets Neo is suuuuper scripted. Like he has spent so much fucking time planning the perfect way to present himself and rehearsing exactly what he will say and do and how he will dress. And its funny to watch The Matrix knowing how totally badass & collected he is seen as in pop culture because he truly is incredibly incredibly dorky

This goes without saying but I also believe he is gay as fuck for Neo, but I need you to understand that the way he goes about it is sooo cute. I mean ok everything surrounding "You are The One and I've been searching for you for years" kind of speaks for itself. But also think about when Neo talks to the Oracle, she says this thing about like "knowing you're The One is like knowing you're in love". We can naturally really easily extend this metaphor to Trinity's explicit prophecy of her falling in love with The One, and knowing that's the case that also extends the metaphor to Morpheus knowing Neo is the one = Morpheus being in love with Neo. And I think how excited he acts around Neo, how physically affectionate he to him, arguably flirting with him during the dojo scene and shit bla bla bla sounds lame as fuck to write but I do think yeah whether literally or metaphorically that's kind of what's up. I think we can be confident that Morpheus loves Neo, and I think romantic love is a close approximation, or at the very least there are certainly real & valuable parallels to be drawn to it

But back to the previous paragraph, the specific kind of devotion towards Neo that Morpheus experiences where he is putting on all kinds of airs trying to mystify Neo, viewing himself as a supporting figure to prop up Neo as the savior -- Morpheus's underlying adoration is expressed through the language of respect, restraint, and selflessness, and a kind of self-sacrifice he is like...excited about. Feels very similar to the whole "best friend who is in love with the main character, but nobly tries to get him another love interest / somehow make his life better without any respect to his own desires". It's very sweet and well-intentioned, but totally excessive. Nobody else is asking you to go this far man this is just you. And it also comes off as a really big obfuscation of at least quasi-romantic feelings, both externally and internally, lacking a lot of self-awareness, so it makes it feel like Morpheus has this like elementary school crush he doesn't quite understand yet and it's really funny and delightful

There is definitely a certain writing style in The Matrix that is dramatic, over the top, and mythological, but compared to Morpheus, Neo and other ppl in his crew speak and act in ways much more grounded. Something I noticed a lot is just how much doubt and disillusionment all of the characters express in living life outside the Matrix, in the effectiveness of the revolution, and of Neo being The One, but Morpheus is totally an exception to this. The only person who puts on nearly as much airs, acting as dramatically and poetically as according to plan as Morpheus is Agent Smith, and like the dude isn't even a person he's a program. But even then Agent Smith expresses disappointment in his own life, and Morpheus doesn't. Seriouusly Morpheus is like the only guy in the movie who does this shit. By seeing himself as a mechanism in a prophecy to save the world and minimizing his own wants and discomforts for the greater good, he has kind of dehumanized himself in a way that's kind of sad. I think it's very easy to buy into it and take his self-perception at face value, and I think most people have, but there are a lot of moments in the movie where you can see through that. That underneath the appearance of a pure legend is a real person who means the absolute best, who is endlessly dedicated and adoring, but suffers from a one-track mind makes Morpheus a really fucking cool and unique character, and has one of the greatest impacts in making the movie's scenario feel believable. And also makes him sooooooooo cute. Anyways I forgoet what happens in the other mvoies this is only about the first one. Rewatch The Matrix 1 and open your eyes and you weill see the truth.

Also another thing I wanna mention that but its only tangentially related -- I think its very interesting how Neo is treated as a protagonist. I can't place exactly why but way the movie is written and shots are framed, he really isn't treated as an audience insert, and many moments in the movie are from other characters' perspectives (including their perspectives towards him, bereft of Neo's own expression). The movie honestly, more than identifying with Neo, expresses empathy and adoration towards him. So it kind of feels like literally everyone in the movie has a crush on him and so should you LOL. Morpheus is definitely a part of this, but I also appreciate the romance between Trinity and Neo feeling equally or more from Trinity's perspective, neither of them really being the object of desire, but if you had to choose one it'd definitely be Neo

Well let me know what you think & Dont try to troll this post because this is real shit

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Super Shy ~ A JWW School-Life Romance Pt. 3

Star Athlete!Wonwoo x Shy Wallflower!Reader

Jeon Wonwoo... THE Jeon Wonwoo is... paying attention to you!?

~1.5k words

Read Part 1 + Part 2

Series content: fluff, first crush plot line, school-life anime vibes, slow burn/yearning, some light angst, classmates to friends to lovers, fem reader, reader is ~*super shy*~ and has low self-esteem, reader is kind of bullied (?), sweetie pie Wonwoo, appearances by Choi Hansol and more!, all characters are in high school so no explicit content (but probably kissing eventually).

My Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, and liked this little series so far! This part reveals more about Y/N’s interests and talents, which she’s afraid to share because she is insecure! But not for long with sweet Jeon Wonwoo around. Also she has a fictional younger sister named Daehee (not after anyone in particular, I just like that name). 😉 These two are so innocent and cute, I’m having such fun writing them! Enjoy!!

Taglist: @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh  @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth @seokqt @haniinah @yangtyunhannie @cherrylovescheol @lukeys-giggle @cookiearmy @sojuxxi  @vixensss @lixisoul99 @mjpark15 @lelsforlino  @neivivenaj  @blvkkeddcc (lmk if you want to be tagged!)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

“Whoa you’re going all out on that, Y/N—”

Your younger sister, Daehee, had come down for breakfast with her bangs still in curlers, wearing her school uniform shirt over her Hello Kitty pajama pants. She was watching you as you concentrated on preparing various dishes at the stove. A thin omelet, grilled shishito peppers, vegetable tempura; it was pretty simple stuff, but you’d developed an urge to create aesthetically pleasing lunches these days.

You couldn’t really explain it, although somewhere in your heart you knew it probably had something to do with Jeon Wonwoo.

For the past week, Jean Wonwoo had been spending lunch on the roof alone with you.

The two of you barely exchanged words, really. Your longest conversation probably lasted only a few minutes. But not for Wonwoo’s lack of trying! You still wondered why he was spending his lunchtime up there at all—even more so why would he keep trying to strike up conversations with you? You guessed he really was just that nice. But every time you were around him you couldn’t help clamming up somehow.

“Are you in any clubs, Y/N?” he’d asked you the other day, between bites of his kimbap.

“Uh, no...” you answered quietly, your nerves frazzled from your total lack of conversational skills.

“None of them appeal to you?”

“Uh, not really that...” you didn’t know how to answer him. You’d ended up just looking at him blankly, like a fool. However, nothing in his facial expression or his tone made you feel like you had to necessarily come up with an answer... But his gaze was intent, and you found it hard to hold onto for more than about three seconds.

“What do you do for fun? To relax?” he followed up breezily, “You’re the class mystery.”

“Um,” the odd self-consciousness you felt at being called ‘the class mystery’ aside, you couldn’t really think of anything to say to him.

Actually, there was one thing that came to mind... but it wasn’t something you’d ever shared with anyone. Your one ‘hobby.’ Though to you it felt more like... squeezing a stress ball. It was what you did when you needed to turn your brain off.

He wants to know what I do to relax?

You couldn’t say what compelled you, but you pulled out your phone and found the photo album you had saved of your miniature paintings.

You worked with acrylic paint on very small canvasses, using very fine, small brushes to create miniature floral designs, portraits, landscapes... Your style was incredibly detailed. You had hundreds of tiny canvasses in little boxes and frames all over your room. You took pictures of most of these tiny paintings when you finished. You had even recorded a couple of time-lapse videos, showing you creating them in fast motion. You’d never felt compelled to create a social media account to display or monetize them, though. You painted because it was what you had done since you were a preteen—the careful, methodical process of dabbing tiny paintbrushes into your carefully mixed colors, getting the tone and shading of a poppy flower’s petal on a tiny scale just right... For you, creating these paintings was like a meditative practice.

By some stroke of inspiration—or insanity—you handed your phone to Wonwoo. His face became visibly more curious as he took your phone carefully in his hands.

“Wowwww,” Wonwoo said, holding the screen closer to his face. He seemed absorbed in your phone—you even caught him zoom in on a few pictures. You could tell he was looking carefully through the album.

“You’re crazy talented!” he said after a while. He sounded genuinely impressed.

“No, haha,” you somehow laughed, coughed, and gasped at the same time, your heart accelerating out of embarrassment from his compliment.

“No, seriously—Y/N, these are really incredible!” he said. “They’re so detailed, and they’re so small! How do you even do that!?” His eyes were glued to your phone screen. A part of you was screaming inside, why on earth you would show these to him!? and urging you to snatch your phone right out of his hand, throw it over the side of the building even. You couldn’t believe that Wonwoo was seeing this, this... habit. And YOU had been the one to show him, of all things!

“I wouldn’t say they’re ‘incredible,’” you said, filling up with more and more anxiety over coming off as bragging or crossing some social boundary that you shouldn’t have crossed.

Wonwoo finally looked up from the screen, looking directly at you instead. You still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but you felt his eyes on you. After a long pause, you dared to glance up at him...

But he quickly looked away from you.

Ugh, I’m probably making him feel like he has to be super nice or something...

“Oh, whoa—a time-lapse?” He said, quickly recovering from the somewhat awkward moment when your eyes had met. But his stumbling across the most recent time-lapse video that you’d made prompted you to snap out of your reverie and bolt to grab your phone out of Wonwoo’s hands.

“Ah, don’t watch that!” you lunged for your phone, but Wonwoo reflexively pulled his hand away, surprised by your reaction but still effortlessly dodging your attempt. He smirked down at you, and your heart almost stopped.

“Why not?” he said, and the deep resonance of his voice made you realize how close your bodies were—you were practically sprawled over him after reaching for your phone, his face just inches from yours...

Your whole body seemed to flush a deep shade of red before you catapulted backward away from him. You could have sworn that you saw that Wonwoo smiling to himself, but you were so flustered and anxious about the way you’d completely invaded his personal space that you couldn’t think straight.

“I won’t watch it,” he said light-heartedly, smiling at you as he tossed your phone back to you. “But you are super talented, Y/N. Painting is such a unique skill, too.”

And just like that, he went back to eating his kimbap like nothing had happened. His relaxed, friendly tone mercifully neutralized the atmosphere, but you just stood there clutching your phone to your chest.

“It’s not that I’m embarrassed,” you started, even though you couldn’t look Wonwoo in the eye, “It’s just—I’ve never shared these paintings with anyone except my family...” Your heart kind of ached for some reason as you said this to Wonwoo, who just continued to look at you in silence. What on earth had compelled you to share that with him?

Agh, say something! You willed for this pause in conversation pass, but it didn’t seem to be budging.

“Thank you for showing me,” Wonwoo said at last. His low, gentle voice seemed to shoot directly into your bloodstream, flushing you an even deeper shade of red than you thought was humanly possible. You looked at him briefly, and something about the way he was looking back at you...  

The moment had played over and over again like a movie in your head for the past few days. The directness of his gaze. The rich, sincere quality of his voice. The way he’d smiled to himself... you couldn’t stop thinking of that particular lunch hour.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Daehee watched you dip veggies in tempura batter and toss them in the pot of hot oil on the stove. You let your mind run through the questions it had been asking all week: why was he spending time with you like this? Did he lose a bet? Is there some kind of hidden camera prank you should be wary of? More than that, why was he being so nice?

“Hellooo, earth to Y/N! I said you’re really going to town on your lunches these days,” Daehee tried again to get a rise out of you.

“Oh,” you said, taking the last piece of tempura squash out of the oil. “I just like experimenting.” You weren’t lying, exactly—you did like exploring all kinds of different food and dishes. Cooking was fun to you, different from the calm of painting.

You would be lying if you said that an added bonus wasn’t Wonwoo noticing and complimenting your work.

You liked it when he praised you. It felt like he meant it.

No one could be that good at faking sincerity, could they?

You couldn’t help but hear that small voice in the back of your head, doubting Wonwoo’s intentions.

But he hadn’t done anything other than come up to the roof during lunch this week, mostly just eating in silence with you—the two of you simply looking out at the sky...

But after you had shown him your paintings...

Maybe it was since then that you had started to put more effort into your lunches.

[tennessoui]

3 or 60 for the Stacy's mom AU pretty please?

thank you for sending this in <3

[from this list of prompts] / [Stacy's Mom AU]

3. Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

honestly as much as they'd both probably enjoy wearing each other's clothing, their styles and color choices are just so different that it's too noticeable and both of them are committed to flying under the radar with their relationship. the most they could get away with is probably anakin dumping his cloaks on obi-wan's shoulders at the slightest shiver from a slightly chilly day. obi-wan now owns like. 12 of anakin's cloaks. he has no intention of giving any of them back.

i imagine obi-wan attempts to give anakin a poorly carved jappor snippet after he reads about the cultural traditions on tatooine. it's really really ugly and it sort of looks like someone's hacked it to pieces and then set it on fire, but master skywalker takes to wearing it religiously.

also i think master skywalker's fascination with obi-wan's hair grows deeper now that he gets to play with it whenever he wants and lace his fingers through it, etc etc, and he takes a lot of calming joy out of playing with it at night if he's awake and obi-wan's asleep, which turns into braiding different sorts of hairstyles into his hair. obi-wan takes to wearing them around the Temple when he's awake - they're much fancier than the padawan braid and much, much more elaborate (because anakin can never do anything half-assed)

60. Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

lmao ok i think obi-wan's preferred sleeping position is with anakin draped on top of him which anakin is happy to accommodate. but anakin also runs hot, and obi-wan hates being hot in his sleep so anakin often wakes up to obi-wan-shaped fists and feet shoving him away (only to get cold a few hours later and pull him back closer as if he's not a jedi master but obi-wan's personal weighted blanket)

anakin doesn't really mind but he definitely fantasizes about retiring from the Order, convincing obi-wan to follow him, and moving them to some arctic snowy planet where obi-wan is always a little cold and never ever shoves anakin away during the night

snippet (pertaining to question 3)

At first, Obi-Wan is inclined to believe that Quinlan is doing this on purpose, out of some practical joke or in an attempt to tease him and prod at him as if they're still padawans. As if Quin doesn't have a padawan of his own now.

Obi-Wan blinks down at the young girl's upturned face. "Uh," he says, glancing up at Quinlan and resolutely not turning to stare at Anakin, who he can feel shaking with silent laughter beside him.

"Please," Orka adds, placing her hands behind her back. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wonders how in the Force such a sweet child became Quinlan Vos' padawan.

"Uh, well," Obi-Wan says. "The thing is..." he stares hard at Vos, but the other man just looks expectant and slightly confused, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the tall duracrete pillar of the fountain behind him. "I think actually Master Skywalker would be thrilled to help you with your hair, Orka."

Quin raises an eyebrow. "Seems unlikely," he mutters, just low enough for Obi-Wan and Anakin to hear. Obi-Wan flushes even as Orka stomps her foot.

"But I want you to braid my hair, Knight Kenobi!" she says. "You have the best hair in the entire Order, all the padawans think so! Please braid mine to look like yours!"

Obi-Wan winces. Behind him, he can feel Anakin's hair traversing up his back to tug teasingly at the end of one of his longer braids. It's incredibly unhelpful. So is the fact that his lover is sitting there and laughing about this whole thing instead of trying to find some way to be helpful.

"The thing is, Orka," Obi-Wan says, clearing his throat. "I don't. Ah. Know how to braid your hair."

Quinlan and Orka both tilt their heads to the side in perfect mirror of each other. It would be cute if Obi-Wan did not feel so incredibly close to humiliation.

"What, you can't figure out how to braid someone else's hair?" Quinlan asks with his eyebrows firmly knitted together. "I'd think it'd be easier than doing your own. Less need to be...you know. Flexible. To get it done. And I mean, I know you're flexible, but..."

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, even as he feels Anakin's chin come to rest on the top of his shoulder. Oh of course, he's no help at all when faced with a youngling's innocent request for assistance, but the moment Quinlan Vos even slightly alludes to his and Obi-Wan's shared sexual history, and Anakin has to say something.

"I braid his hair for him, little one," Anakin tells Orka, reaching out and tucking a longer braided piece of hair behind Obi-Wan's ear. "What Knight Kenobi is too proud to say is that he doesn't actually know how to braid at all."

Orka's eyes widen and she turns to look in between the three of them as if this is an incredible, total betrayal.

Quinlan's own eyes also widen, but he looks more like Life Day has come early. "Oh," he says. "Oh."

"Shut up," Obi-Wan snaps in forewarning. "Whatever you're going to say---"

"But it's always all pretty by breakfast!" Orka protests, eyebrows knitting together. "Do you braid his hair for him every morning? Even before you eat?"

Anakin's Force signature is far too smug. He's enjoying this far too much. Obi-Wan is far too in love with him anyway. It's terrible for his health and his pride.

"Sometimes adults like to have sleepovers just as the younglings do," Obi-Wan says delicately. "Just as the younglings do," he repeats loudly when both Anakin and Vos snort. "And yes, sometimes Master Skywalker enjoys braiding my hair. During those sleepovers."

Mostly, Anakin enjoys braiding his hair either in the aftermath of sex or sometime during the night when Obi-Wan is asleep and malleable and Anakin is kept awake by some nightmare or another. Mostly Anakin enjoys braiding his hair because it's the only sort of claim he can lay on him--not while they're both still Jedi.

And mostly, Anakin. enjoys braiding his hair because he spent years seeing Obi-Wan walk around the Temple with another master's braid hanging down his shoulder, and he'd hated the sight of it.

"Oh," Orka says. She considers this new information before she turns with narrowed eyes to Anakin. "So you can braid my hair."

It sounds like a threat. This time, it's Obi-Wan who has to cover his snort with a cough.

[lady-of-ocs]

Just finished Yuri!!! on Ice for the first time and dear god, why didn’t I watch this sooner? The animation for the skating is pure beauty and I adore each and every character (special shoutouts to Phichit, Christophe, and Yuri(o)!). Viktor and Yuuri’s romance was so, so good and I’m truly violent over the fact that I don’t get to see more of them (fanfics here I come!). I salute you long time fans because I’ve been here for three days and I would kill a man (/j for legal reasons) to get more content. Yuri Plisetsky my absolute LITTLE GUY. Imma squish him. He’s such a brat but he’s got a good heart and I love him. All the forehead kisses for Captain cranky cat ears. Bonus points for grandpa and his pirozhikis.

I started ice skating at about age five and skated almost weekly during skating season for years of my life. A childhood dream was to compete and one day go to the Olympics. This show hit me deep in my gut and I’m so happy and yet wounded by it. The pure adoration I have for this show (I literally binged the first 8 or 9 episodes in one sitting because I couldn’t put it down, and the only reason I didn’t finish the others was because I had to study for an exam or risk failure). It’s about ice skating and a beautiful relationship between these two men. I love the connection between the characters (Phichit and Yuuri’s friendship is so fucking sweet and I love the absolute chaos that is Chris and Viktor) and how unique everyone’s skating style is. The costume designs are absolutely killer (I’m partial to Yuuri’s short program costume, Yuri(o)’s free skate costume, and I really enjoy Otabek’s costumes). Chris gets a special mention again because the consistent ass shots during his routines made me fucking cackle. He’s so sexy, I hate him lmao.

Anyway I’ve been here for two paragraphs and I could go on and on about the show. I don’t feel the pain of waiting seven years for Adolescence, but I do understand it now and I’m carrying some of your burdens with you.

In conclusion, I love ice skating and gay people, and I love it even more when those two things are combined.

[karioke13]

My Transformers One thoughts!!!

✨Spoiler free✨

Holy moly this movie was just so…WOW!!! Before I start with my thoughts, I would like for y’all to know that I’ve never been this hyped for a movie in a long time! I was so excited I was shaking from excitement that my family kept asking if I was okay! 😂

Ok now to my thoughts. First off, I just want to mention how good the voice acting was. Chris Hemsworth did such a phenomenal job as Orion Pax, later Optimus Prime. Whenever his character gave a speech, I was crying because of how amazing and inspiring it was. And Orion in general was just so adorable and fun to watch! Now Brians voice acting was spine chilling! His decent from good friend who sticks to protocols to becoming the revenge seeking Megatron just flowed ever so nicely! The writers did an incredible job with his villain arc. Plus, Brians voice acting just made it even more incredible! And Michael Keegan as Bumblebee was ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS! My mom loved him she thought he was so funny! He was kinda, sweet and always willing to help his friends. The chemistry that Optimus and Elita have with each other was *chefs kiss* you can tell she really cared for him throughout the whole movie! Everyone’s chemistry with each other was amazing!!! Every single character had such well done chemistry with the others, showing the good writing in this movie!

Now the music and animation, was OFF THE CHARTS. They both flowed so well together. The music made me feel so teary eyed because of how beautiful was! It made you really feel in the moment. And the animation was absolutely STUNNING! Seriously yall, shoutout to all the animators for doing such an amazing job with the animation style. It was just so incredible. So if you are really into animation and/or music definitely check this movie out!!

And finally the plot in this film. I swear this plot is absolutely heartbreaking in this movie. So many moments that make you feel. The friendship bond between Orion Pax and D-16 to the long known enemies Optimus Prime and Megatron was simply so sad to watch. And it really makes you feel hooked to the story watching D-16 going through his good guy to bad guy transformation. It really makes you feel for the guy. There were also so many dark moments too which was pretty shocking but honestly pretty valid for the story and I like how they didn’t try to shy away from all that. The writers really embraced it, show the horrors and the reality of war, corruption and betrayal. Honestly, I haven’t been this hooked on a plot for a movie in a long long time!

I had so much fun watching this movie. It made me feel like a little kid again, getting excited about a movie and what will happen and why the characters change. Seriously shoutout to everyone person who worked in this movie yall did an amazing job! I’m really considering watching this movie because of how good this movie was. 10/10 movie rating for me. I definitely recommend yall to watch this amazing movie, it has such amazing characters as well as a really good lesson from this movie! I can’t wait for more of this Transformers story! I had a really good time! 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Also I brought my Optimus Prime plushie and my Bumblebee funko pop, along with my new Transformers One shirt to the movies with me! And I also took some pictures during the movie as well! (No spoilers i promise!!) Have a look! 🤗

[mxtxfanatic]

Hi again! I come bearing a set of... more detailed-answer-requiring questions...which I'll send in different asks so... first question:

We know that LWJ used to believe in the gentry, cultivation clans, hierarchy, rules, orthodoxy etc. Like he expected them to do their jobs and justice to be served and everything which is how I am justifying his pre-resurrection treatment of WWX. But I do think he went through a massive perspective shift when his own clan elders turns their weapons at him and a barely-sane (at that moment) man and then it got cemented by his own punishment and the siege led on the burial mounds after the promise JGS made that caused WQ to offer herself. So my question is, am I just seeing it or did he really stop believing in justice and clans and their bullshit to be anything but self-serving and began making his own way in the world after. Like I know he's strong and all but I dont remember him ever asking for backup from his clan, no matter what and I feel like that kinda reflected on how they had broken his trust so wholly and irrevocably? Thoughts?

Whoa there, actually, we do not all agree that Lan Wangji used to believe in any of those things. Just like the plot-twist about Wei Wuxian's character is that he wasn't some evil demon corrupted by power, Lan Wangji's character plot-twist is that he was never as wedded to the rules as we are led to believe at the beginning. He has no problems going against his clan when he feels it necessary, in situations as big as his mother's death and the Nightless City bloodbath and as small as choosing to keep and raise the rabbits that Wei Wuxian gifted him. Neither fighting his elders nor his subsequent punishment were the beginnings of this idea for him as he's been doing this since he was six. As for his "loyalty" to the orthodoxy: Lan Wangji doesn't care about the orthodoxy so much as he cares that Wei Wuxian has reappeared after a 3-month disappearance, looking emaciated and hardened and using a completely new cultivation style that leaves mass death in its wake. He cares about Wei Wuxian using the ghost path because he assumes it is the reason why Wei Wuxian has taken this sharp 180 in personality. He and we learn that it is not.

My answer to the other ask is that people in the English-speaking fandom, particularly those from Western nations like the United States, are so attached to their usual literary archetypes that they fail to consider that a story from a completely different culture would have different literary archetypes. Wangxian's love is not "I will burn the world down for you." That is a Western take on romance. Wangxian's love is "I will support you at your side, always," and the story is built around that. Lan Wangji saved a catatonic Wei Wuxian from the Nightless City bloodbath and protected him against his own clan. Lan Wangji took in the child that Wei Wuxian and the Wen remnants raised and hid to save. Lan Wangji stands with Wei Wuxian publicly after the "Mo Xuanyu" reveal and during the second siege. When Wei Wuxian is resurrected, he follows the other man's lead and only moves to cover the other man's blind spots. Why does Lan Wangji do all this? Because they are on the same team.

[technicolorfamiliar]

Der Student von Prag (The Student of Prague) Dir. Henrik Galeen 1926

So I'm going back and rewatching a handful of the titles from the initial 50+ film journey into Conrad Veidt's filmography. Some I'm revisiting because they made such an indelible impression on me the first time, others because I want to give them a second chance. The Student of Prague was among the first films on what wound up being a year-long deep dive into Connie's work and history. I loved it then, but even more so now.

I want to live inside this movie. Galeen and his crew made a hell of a picture, made all the more special by Conrad Veidt doing the literal most.

There is a bewitching quality to The Student of Prague, from Conrad Veidt's dual performances as both Balduin and his Double to the atmospheric cinematography and special effects. It's a dreamy film that really sets itself apart as a dark and lovely supernatural period piece.

Despite some very minor issues, over all it's genuinely pretty perfect. It's one of those films that, even with its faults, sweeps me effortlessly into the gothically Romantic world of the story.

Maybe the film could have benefited from tighter editing, cutting some of the longer sequences and unnecessary shots. But an argument could also be made that these longer scenes aid the spell the film is casting over its audience, the way Sciapinelli weaves his spell on the hilltop to draw Balduin and Margrit together.

The cinematography by Günther Krampf and Erich Nitzschmann is really something special. Shadow was a big motif and standard tool filmmakers used back then, especially those working in the Expressionist style, but for 'Student, maybe because of the early 19th century setting and the proximity of the natural world (both real and fabricated), the use of shadow here makes the film feel more like a fairy tale illustrated by Arthur Rackham than the Uncanny Art Deco of classic German Expressionism. The digital restoration really highlights how successfully they worked with value and contrast to create such a visually rich film.

And it fucken WIMDY. The use of wind throughout the film is really effective -- Sciapinelli's coat billowing out behind him on the hilltop, the rustling foliage behind Balduin after the duel, dead leaves blown into the Countess's bedroom, and the gales that follow Balduin through the city in the film's final act. Whether used on a studio set or in location shots, wind here feels not only atmospheric but also supernatural; it's Sciapinelli's invisible presence when he's not even in the shot.

Even the relatively minimalist score works. It's mostly piano supplemented occasionally by one or two other instruments, a flute or an accordion, and there are only a handful of repeated themes. Apparently the music that's in the most recent restoration was composed only a few years ago by Stephen Horne, so it's really anyone's guess what the original soundtrack by Willy Schmidt-Gentner was like. Regardless, the new music definitely feels appropriate not only to the period the film was made but also the overall Vibes.

On my first watch about a year ago, I was struck by the special effects used in this film. For the time it was made, the effects had to be incredibly impressive. The transitions where the Double appears and disappears in a ghostly fashion are fun, but there's an especially cool shot where he appears to walk through an iron gate, and a really great close up dolly shot towards the end of the film where the Double appears to float toward the back of the room. And I don't know if this was something they touched up in post-production or if the lighting on set was chef's kiss perfect, but Connie's eyes literally glow. There are shots where his eyes, especially as the Double, are like two beacons set in the shadows.

The other performances… they're fine. I mean, everyone who wasn't playing Balduin has to have known it wasn't their movie. Except for Werner Krauss as Sciapinelli who looks like if Alfred Molina was sent back to the 1920s and did as much cocaine as he could find. He's so creature coded that I genuinely don't know what to make of his performance. Everyone else, including Connie, is kind of doing a riff on realism to varying degrees of exaggeration but still relatively tame for the era (compare the acting in 'Student to The Hands of Orlac just two years earlier). But I guess Werner Krauss didn't get the memo, or because Sciapinelli is a supernatural character it's ok for him to be a little out there. He does some really delightfully creepy and borderline upsetting stuff especially in the scene when he makes the deal with Balduin. It's all very weirdly sexual and I hate it. Otherwise, there's unfortunately very little of note in the other performances. Elizza La Porta as the flower girl does the pathetic-cute thing well, but Agnes Esterhazy's Margrit is sadly pretty forgettable.

But the Balduin of it all. This is truly a groundbreaking role for Conrad Veidt at this time in his career. I feel like this film alone slingshot him into his meatier and more interesting roles in the late 1920s. Sure, Connie was doing some interesting and versatile stuff around this time (Ingmarsarvet and Carlos & Elisabeth come to mind), but this just hits different. Everything kind of lines up perfectly for him as this character, and the story is that unique Poe-inspired blend of the uncanny and capital R Romance that really suits him. Because of the nature of the story itself, Connie's free to play big when it works for the character, but also works in these incredibly vulnerable and subtle moments as well. I don't know if this is thanks to the director being hands-on with Connie or just letting him do his thing. Whatever the case, it works.

It's maybe worth mentioning Connie was 33 when they shot this. I don’t know how old Balduin's supposed to be, but he's probably at least ten years younger than Connie was at the time. And I buy it, I buy that Balduin is a young man, foolish and naïve in the way only someone that young could be. His youthfulness isn't just suggested in the character's decisions but also in his physicality. When we first meet Balduin, Connie's doing this sulky, pouty, petulant thing that I love for him. In the first act, he's clearly beloved by his fellow-students and by the flower girl, and he easily slips out of his misery about his money problems into a more lighthearted mood. He's moody one moment and playful the next, joining in a low-stakes fencing match for fun when just moments before he was brooding alone full Morrissey style in the garden. This initial lightness about the character sets him up for his eventual inevitable hard fall into shame and helplessness.

I'm afraid to admit it took me a whole 24 hours after watching this a second time to realize that Balduin is kind of a dick. But Connie's performance is so good and so empathetic that I didn't notice right away. He himself is stunningly, Byronically beautiful in this film. He's like a painting of a tragic, Romantic hero come to life, I can’t even handle it. And, my god, the yearning! It's palpable. In the wrong hands, I would probably hate this character. I haven't seen Wegener's or Walbrook's versions, but I can't imagine they're as charismatic as Connie is in the role.

But what I love even more than Connie as Balduin is him as the Double. I am FASCINATED by this performance and this character. I have SO MANY QUESTIONS. The way he consolidates his movements so that he practically glides through the frame, the way he keeps this performance distinct by slowing everything down and keeping a lot of the Double's anguish internal… it's so good.

I think we only see the Double four times before the last act of the film: first when he steps out of the mirror; much later outside the Countess's party; in the graveyard; and after he kills the Baron in the woods. Initially, when the reflection steps out of the mirror after Balduin signs Sciapinelli's contract, the Double seems pretty soulless. His dead-eyed, mask-like expression as he stalks out of the room makes it seem like he's just going to be a mindless puppet Sciapinelli can use to torment Balduin. And certainly in their first two encounters, Balduin's mirror image slinks out of the shadows as a reminder of his Faustian bargain but also as something of a stand in for his conscience. The first two times we see the Double out in the world are when Balduin is at his happiest, in his most romantic moments with Margrit, who is not only completely out of Balduin's league but also promised to someone else (even if that some one else is her cousin...). Nothing about the Double's presence in these scenes suggests that he's anything more than a phantom, a specter to haunt the protagonist from a distance.

But then, something changes. The Double isn't just a ghost that only Balduin can see; he's just as real as his counterpart, and his actions have consequences. Balduin promises Margrit's father, the Count, to spare her cousin-fiancée in a duel the Baron knows he cannot win -- Balduin is, after all, the best swordsman in Prague. They even say the fight is supposed to be with heavy sabers, which sound like they could really mess you up. But when dueling day arrives, Balduin is delayed by the wheels inexplicably coming off his carriage. He races through the countryside on foot in order to make his appointment, but it's too late. He stops dead in his tracks, frozen in fear, as the Double appears, approaching him slowly from the tree line. When the Double reaches him, Balduin sees the bloody sword and immediately recoils, fearing the worst. But what's most interesting about this scene is that, when the Double finally looks up, his expression is not that of a mindless zombie. When he looks up, the Double looks horrified. Realization slowly rises in his face, and he turns to Balduin with this look of abject horror and helplessness while Balduin cowers in fright. And as the Double turns to walk out of the clearing, he hangs is head in pained resignation and I AM OBSESSED. There are no intertitles in this sequence, but the anguished look he gives Balduin says, "Do you see now? This, and worse than this, is going to keep happening." Connie's performance in this scene suggests the Double may not be able to control his actions but he certainly has feelings about them. So does this mean the Double is in fact Balduin's soul? His goodness? His innocence? I NEED TO KNOW MORE.

The Double is also consistently dressed in the student costume Balduin wears at the beginning of the film. After Sciapinelli gives Balduin the money, Balduin buys a whole new wardrobe (honestly, who wouldn't?). But the mirror version of Balduin doesn't change to reflect Balduin as he is in the present; the Double wears the clothes of a student -- the cap, the velveteen jacket -- because he represents who Balduin was. He's the boy, the youth uncorrupted by excessive wealth and privilege, now made to do horrible things because Balduin so easily handed him over to Sciapinelli when they made their deal. UGH.

The final time Balduin sees his Double, his mirror self hounds him with measured steps, pushing him away from the fragile security of wealth and opulence back to his abandoned student flat. And the expression on the Double's face now is grimly accusatory, it's deeply solemn disappointment, it's a final judgment before an inevitable end. There's sorrow and resentment in the Double's eyes, but kept restrained and subtle, gradually building in wordless intensity until Balduin must finally face himself, literally, in order to end his torment, finding a pistol and shooting his mirror image and therefore killing himself.

Maybe a lot of the descriptors I use for Connie are hyperbole, but his work in this film is remarkable. Anyone interested in getting to know him as an actor, hell, anyone interested in film history period, absolutely should watch The Student of Prague at least once.

Final thoughts: For real, though, it would suck to not have a reflection. I recently had a whole conversation with my (straight, cis male) family members about this; not a one of them owns or even sees the need for a full length mirror. And maybe the big mirror in Balduin's student room came with the place when he moved in, but you get used to having something like that. I know it would drive me crazy not being able to check my whole outfit to make sure I don't look like a doofus before leaving the house.

[yuujiheart]

Reading chp 270 feels so weird.. I thought this would be the chapter where we would finally see yuji and will get some info on things that are actually necessary to complete the story.

What really gave me a headache was sukuna stuff. They found tengen remains in sukuna's remnants so logically they should have found it after sukuna's remains perished right? As we did see him getting disintegrate. But gakuganji said it is preserved in his remnants??? Like how???

This means sukuna's remnants DIDN'T disintegrate . So did yuji ( coz he was the only one who was there) stop the disintegration?? And this wasn't addressed at all.. I knew that not showing him disintegrate fully was suspicious... ( if anyone has a better explanation, feel free to comment). Not just that there was no mention of his last finger and the fingers he threw up.. Oh and the way they spoke it looks like this is a temporary arrangement so they still need to fix it..

They not talking about gojo itself is suspicious.. At least tell us what the hell is going on with his body. Or gege gonna jump scare us with his face in next chapter

Gakuganji not being in a hurry to take countermeasures.. Higuruma's hand/ arm still hasn't recovered as if he forgot he can do rct.. I didn't think too much of him being alive as I thought shoko along with arata and amai might have saved him from dying as uiui took him out of the battlefield swiftly but now this is weird..

Aside from this chap stuff, I am also thinking why gege isn't addressing the real thing as he must know readers are waiting for yuji's lineage, kenny , sukuna, tengen relationship, yuji gojo convo.. What is yuji thinking? Sure we can't get a backstory but he could have revealed that info in chp 257 style. Bro dedicated one chap to less important stuff but completely ignored the real deal... I find it irritating and funny too. Only I don't want to laugh... 😑😑😑

And now that they have added this mission too and it will surely take at least 4-6 pages assuming it would be a normal mission and then will address the real stuff which I wonder if he can cover in one chp. And that's why I suspect we are gonna get a jjk part 2 with a big twist in the last chp.. Because I find it hard to believe that gege would end his first major work like this. This person dedicated half chap answering why they didn't do certain things in a certain way in battle but yeah I should believe he doesn't want to address major plot points which again I don't think he can do it in one chap ..

So yeah i am gonna believe in gege till the end.. I mean I know I am signing myself for disappointment probably then again it can't get any worse than this... So why not one more time.. As if we aren't familiar to this...🥲🥲( but I strongly suggest to not do this as it can get reaaaaaaaalllly painful)

[blackbat05]

Biggest Supporter

Jason Todd x Library Assistant! Reader

Plot: Your week has been difficult and the emotions start to pile up on you. Luckily, Jason has the perfect plan for a Friday evening self-care.

Genre: PG-13, Comfort

A/N: Wrote this one shot when I should have been sleeping🤡 The week has not been the easiest and you know my style… writing to release the steam. I hope you still enjoy and that it brings some sort of comfort if you’re struggling as well. Reblogs appreciated!

This week was really not it.

You were almost reaching the end of the week, where you could taste the sweetness of a Friday when shit had to hit the fan.

First, the kids weren’t listening to you as you tried to conduct story time. You tried to be assertive and authoritative as possible but frustrating was only the one word out of many that you had at the end of the day.

The next day wasn’t any better as you had to sit through a meeting that left a bitter taste on your tongue. You felt eyes on you as you walked around the campus but tried to keep your head up high.

Then, it happened.

You had to stop an actual physical fight in the library.

Unsuccessfully should be the prerogative word.

Teachers came out of the staff room like bees attracted to honey- or screaming in this case and you had never felt more embarrassed. Still, you had a job to do. Reporting and crowd control.

The aftermath wasn’t pretty. You kept trying to tell yourself that the suggestions were out of goodwill. But it didn’t help when you kept replaying it in your head and they sounded uglier by the second. As if it was directed at you and your incompetence.

It took a lot to squash down your anxiety and insecurity to back where it rightfully belonged. But you were valid to be upset at the injustice you were facing. You wished you had quicker comebacks at the remarks instead of a weak defense that only made you sound like you were just making excuses.

No. You had to be strong, you had to believe that you were doing the right thing all this while. The air felt thick again and you were glad when school ended and you could leave earlier on a Friday.

As you head down the stairs, you see a familiar motorbike parked next to the security guard post and a mop of black hair with a tinge of white.

“Jason!” You waved happily as you reached the bottom.

“Hey princess.” He opens his arms for a hug which you gladly accept. “Looks like I got here in time.”

“You have no idea.” You groan into his chest, earning a chuckle from him.

Waving goodbye to Sam, the friendly guard, the two of you prepare to set off on his bike and straight into the weekend.

The ride was everything you needed. The gust of fresh air was a much welcome reprieve. Suddenly, the emotions from the week start to swell in your chest and you fight the urge to cry by leaning further into Jason’s back.

“Let it out!” Jason yells to make himself heard over the howling wind as you zoom across the expressway. “You’ll feel better!”

So you do. You let your tears run even if it means you’ll probably look like a puffy eyed demon when you reach your destination.

It wasn’t easy, coming to this point of your job. You knew how hard you had to fight for everything that you had achieved so far. You made sure to not make the same mistakes and all was going well.

That is why you absolutely hated the fact that this week had rattled you very badly that it dredged up old wounds.

Blinking away your tears, the bike slows down and you find yourself in front of a Korean Restaurant that you’ve always wanted to visit.

“You’re too good to me.” You thanked Jason, still riding high on all the emotions. But you didn’t care about putting them on display because Jason was the only one who knew and understood what you were feeling.

“I did nothing.” Jason is modest and guides you inside the restaurant, ready for a sumptuous and hearty meal of spicy stew.

As you wait for the pot to boil, Jason looks at you through the rising steam as you recount to him your week. He doesn’t interrupt, making the right reactions at the appropriate times.

“You did everything you could. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Jason says as you finish. “I wasn’t there but you sounded really badass.” He tries to lift the mood, earning a small smile from you even though you don’t say anything.

Jason frowns. “What did your boss say?”

“She said that it was beyond my control and I did everything that I could.” You sigh. “But maybe they’re right. I have to be stricter than these incidents will stop happening.”

“Then, it’s settled.” Jason is firm. “You’re not at fault. Did you do what Macy did the last time?” He asks, referring to your recent librarian and supervisor who left the job to go to Spain with her family.

“Yeah. I didn’t want to change it too drastically.” You respond and Jason nods as if all this was logical.

“Exactly. You did what she’s supposed to do. You’re continuing what she is doing. And if anyone has any smart-ass opinions, tell them to take it up to management themselves instead of directing their anger at the wrong place.” Jason becomes more heated by the second and you can’t help but to be a little amused by this. You’re grateful for a loyal best friend like him.

“I’m serious! If this happened previously before you came, then it’s not on you.” Jason insists. “And! Where was the help when you needed it! Do more fights have to happen before you get reinforcements?” He rattles off, taking a big gulp of water from the cup.

“Thanks Jaybird.” You take his bowl and pour some stew in. “I knew I could count on you to be on my side.”

“Always. Besides, you couldn’t do any wrong.”

You laughed, taking a sip of the comforting stew that instantly made your worries go away for that moment.

“But I’m serious.”

“About what?” You ask.

“That you’re doing a great job.” Jason states. “Not because I’m trying to humor you,” he clarifies. “I think you’ve went out of your way to try to fill that empty gap as much as possible for these kids. Considering what you went through back then, you could have just taken a back seat.”

As Jason’s encouragement spills out from the bottom of his heart, you realized that was all you needed. That despite shitty moments, someone told you that you did your best, and that was all that mattered.

“So don’t think about it too much alright? At least not tonight. Because we are going to have the best meal of our lives!” Jason declares, ordering a soju bomb. You protest at that but he waves the concerns away, mischievously waving a black credit card which you could only assume belonged to one person.

“Only for my best girl.” He grins, offering to clink glasses with you. “To being your biggest supporter and shitting on shit people!” He raises his voice, earning some stares from other patrons, causing you to giggle.

“Cheers! To trusting myself and not listening to shit people!”

Jason roars with delight at your loose lipped declaration and pours you another drink, continuing the carefree evening with good food, good laughter and the best company.

Yeah, you were going to be okay.

[weebsinstash]

Do you think Vox can make his fingers/dick vibrate? 🤔 And if he can switch out body parts, can he exchange his dick for different models? I feel like if he can do the latter, he's insecure enough to give himself a monster cock 😂

Oh no so it's like, absolutely canon. I don't care if the Instagram accounts aren't deemed official canon anymore because there are definitely certain aspects which are absolutely still in character or could be used as a reference and there was a post exactly about this subject

One of the old Valentino Twitter posts was something about how Vox had smashed Val's TV in a rage and had bought him a new one to replace it, and Valentino commented several things along the lines of "compensating much?" (it was a large tv) and "good thing it doesn't vibrate or I would have a new boyfriend 🤭" outright confirming Vox can vibrate

Pair that with Viv commenting that Vox tops Val because he is LITERALLY TOO INSECURE TO BOTTOM and I think it's basically guaranteed that Vox has stuff he does to his dick in terms of either making it bigger or idk maybe he was spare parts he swaps out. We don't really know the full potential of his body, or even if we are overassuming what he can do. Perhaps just because he modernized his head does not actually mean he can customize his entire body, however I think the ability to do so would fit the narrative of his character: a narcissistic showman personality who craves the limelight and attention and yearns to be seen and adored and staying relevant to the point he loses his own personal identity and even his physical body in pursuit of constantly innovating to try and keep views and keep expanding and making more and more money.

It really depends on his reasons for what he does. Is the money just a bonus, and it's more about the recognition, or is it a combination of several things? Is Vox mostly just insecure, or is he genuinely on that Capital At All Costs grindset?

Either way it's basically guaranteed that this man gave himself a dick upgrade and you cannot convince me of anything else. Seeing people's ideas for what his junk looks like is also fun too. Someone contact the specific subset of the Transformers fandom where it was a trend to design what their hypothetical disks would look like and people were putting neon strip lights along the glans and shit, have some of them get in on this.

You think Vox has like, a drawer or a cabinet full of dicks. Would he collect/commission dicks of different styles until he has like a collection, like he's got a miniature bad dragon marketplace in his closet. Obviously we can have our "calculated CEO menace" stories but we could, in theory, also have "this guy is actually kind of a little freak and develops an unhealthy obsession with trying to see how well you could take all his favorite 'attachments'".

Also just a special shout out to the artists who give him little like, feet pawsies, or shark features like a dorsal fin or sometimes a tail because 😭❤️ idk it's just cute that's it post over now

[herefortheships]

You want to know something that has me thinking about Lydia's characterization in BJBJ? She clearly has bad anxiety and seems pretty traumatized by her ability to see ghosts to some extent, but it's unclear what exactly drove her to feel this way about being able to see ghosts, when in her past, it didn't seem to bother her.

Lowkey they seemed to hint at her experience with Betelgeuse being the cause of her trauma (which makes it look like at the end when she banishes him at the wedding that's her overcoming her trauma and fears), but that seems extremely strange a choice, if that's the case, considering that at the end of the previous film some time seemed to have passed from the events at the end (Otho's ritual with the Maitlands, the wedding, etc), and Lydia seemed really happy at the end of the movie. In fact she seemed to be styling herself less goth-like (although arguably that could be because she's back in school and they may not allow her to style herself that way at school lol), which visually I think it's done to show how she's not depressed and thinking about death anymore.

She seemed to be happy coexisting with not just the Maitlands but with the occasional ghosts that she'd see around. That last part is my speculation, though, based on ghosts of the football team dancing behind her on the stairs, which she didn't seem to mind at all.

My point is: Lydia seemed perfectly happy at the end of the first movie, which disqualifies the events of that movie as the cause of her present anxiety.

It had to have been something else. I wonder if I just need a rewatch of BJBJ; was it made clear why Lydia is struggling with anxiety and needing medications? What exactly happened in Lydia's life that drove her to that? Was it losing Richard? She explained in the movie that that relationship was over long before whatever happened to Richard, though of course not knowing what exactly happened to him MUST have affected her, despite the status of that relationship. So one could think losing him is part of that anxiety. But the thing is, though, she seemed to be most anxious when seeing flashes of Betelgeuse... So that's why it seems to me that her anxiety is more related to her ability to see ghosts (and more specifically with seeing Betelgeuse) over anything else.

So I have to wonder, has he done something to scare her at some point over the years since their last encounter? Or did she have another terrible experience with another ghost/entity that really scared her and reminded her that ghosts/demons like Betelgeuse exist, and now that she's seeing him she's scared he will harm her? The movie really didn't make it clear what happened in Lydia's life to bring her to this point and especially to make her so scared of potentially encountering Betelgeuse again.

Mind you, the first thing she thought about when Astrid was taken was to find Betelgeuse and ask for his help, when we know she can 1) Talk to ghosts, so if she needed to find one to draw a door to the other side so she could find Astrid, she could have found some other ghost? Since she's supposed to be so "scared" of Betelgeuse. And 2) She already knows how to get to the other side, so back to point one, she didn't exactly need to use Betelgeuse to get there. Anyway, she was in a hurry/desperate, so maybe instead of looking for a random ghost she decided to look for the one she knew she could find and who'd help her immediately (the same one the movie has for some reason decided that she is most afraid of. lol).

I think there's potential to explore Lydia more deeply in the next movie. I just don't believe that her experience with Betelgeuse in the previous film is responsible for her current emotional state. I am positive she knows that Betelgeuse, as creepy as he can get, would never do anything to truly harm her; his motivations were never to harm her, but to leave the afterlife. The most he can do is try to marry her. And as far as Lydia knows, what could that do to them? All we really know is that he'll materialize in this world in some form. In that case, if he leaves the afterlife and incarnates here, wouldn't that make him human (or just, alive), and remove his powers? So, again, he wouldn't have a means to harm Lydia (and would he want to harm the person who helped him escape the afterlife like he so wanted?). Many questions. lol But I'm sure the marriage contract wouldn't bind Lydia to anything else that is nefarious, as far as she's concerned, since the marriage is a condition Betelgeuse needs to fulfill so he can leave the afterlife. Again, many questions, and Lydia's story is pretty open to interpretation, I guess, as far as her past goes. I just wish we could know what exactly happened, because the first movie is no indication or justification for her current state; there's nothing in that ending that shows Lydia will be traumatized 30+ years after what happeend.

[court-jobi]

How'd You Know (I Needed This)

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's (sleepy) characters/work))

Pairing: Aizawa x reader (American!Pro Hero fem!reader, set before the events of Season 1)

Words: 4.9K

Rating: T+

Warnings: Aizawa has feelings and doesn't know what to do with them, alcohol mentions, slow burn, he fell first she fell harder, the feeling is mutual TM

Summary:

Shouta Aizawa surrenders his capture weapon for the night in favor of humoring Hizashi, and is rewarded for his follow-through at his show. He wants to know you, more than he has from teaching the brats alongside you for the last few months. Wants to know the smile that reaches your eyes more intimately.

He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you -out from all their eyes inside- to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

A/N: I've been WAITING for this one, turn it up!!! Aizawa my beloved, I've wanted to write you for so, so long and can only hope I can do you justice. The man just has such a gentle side and I just wanted to give him something nice and self-indulgent~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Damn it, why was he thinking like this? He’s in public for goodness’ sakes, with only two sips of drink under his belt. Not two drinks- two sips of a drink.  So if that’s the case of his sobriety, why was he off in his own little headspace as if he were drunk?  

‘Put Your Hands Up Radio’ found its home recording studio attached to this lounge: a place Shouta Aizawa never frequented unless expressly invited- or when Eraserhead was needed to scout out trouble. Far too noisy, too chatty, and filled with too many grown adults losing their sensibilities for his liking. 

Through one round of begging or another, he’d been roped into joining some of the staff of UA to an evening out, in support of Present Mic. Naturally, Aizawa would go- as his presence would all but guarantee everyone else’s. Despite begrudging the plans that pushed himself out of his preferred rest mode, he kept true to his word for Hizashi’s sake.

Promise kept, and therefore, appears to have been rewarded. 

Once the show wrapped for the night, his best friend was over the moon at how things were turning into a party that Friday night. After a day of shrill, whinging teenagers he’d wrangled all week, this level of volume was honestly the last thing he needed. Yamada’s voice doubled the decibel of the entire room- and that’s without his quirk activated. He always managed to annoy Aizawa when he started fangirling about one duet matchup or another.

But truthfully? Every sound this tired hero registered around him fell to white noise while he looked at you…

Sweet Little Miss, you are; gracing the lounge with your presence. You’re a vision tonight. Insist with your lilting dip to your words they all call you by your first name, outside of school grounds and against what’s considered custom. No hero titles either, unless an emergency called for formalities- then you’d cave.

These Americans are too casual. Even down to these outfits. What’s this–  black turtleneck, necklace she won’t leave alone- moving it around her thumb like that, short skirt.. and those damn thigh highs and tights. How is it she’s driving that moped of hers, wearing something like this…

Everything on your person, down to the way you held yourself in perfect confidence and ease adorned you like a perfectly-styled pro hero. It couldn't be a more stark contrast to his tried and true wardrobe. Even this after-hours look sat perfectly around each bend and curve of you, as you listened to the group. 

You’re smiling, too. It’s subtle, but it reaches your eyes, which makes it all the more authentic.

A smile he shouldn’t want to keep all to himself. Curves he really should have no business noticing. Features that he’s actually surprised he’s labeling as ‘attractive’ in his mind because the last time he ever felt an ounce of attraction to anyone in that way, he’d barely been able to grow facial hair. 

Desire for a safe place to land his dizzying mind is driving his tired sights to look to you for relief again and again in the conversation– without you even saying a single word. 

The barely-touched drink in his hand is only a prop; something to make him blend into the scene and not something he’s actually tasting for pleasure… meaning, these are his thoughts. Nearly completely sober. Should be illegal. Just illegal-

"Yo Sho, you still with us, sleepyhead?" 

Yamada pulled him out of his thoughts. Disguising any flare of being put on the spot, Aizawa  flitted his absent gaze back to his blond friend–

"Be nice. He’s had a rough day and is a good enough sport by being here,” you chirped up catching Yamada’s pull for Aizawa to part from the fringes of your little gathering.

Now toward you? He’ll soften his edge. After all, with you sticking up for him with blind loyalty, he nearly felt guilty for spacing out and causing you to speak up in the first place.

“- yknow, I'm inclined to take a nap myself," you leaned forward to grab a few more calamari bites to tend to your seemingly insatiable appetite. Aizawa felt warm at the sweetness and straightened up at Yamada’s prodding.

From then on, he made sure to look in your direction more often when you spoke to help him pay attention. He still didn't say much, never did. But he liked the company well enough.

These nights were truly few and far between. Life as an in-demand hero left him jumping from role to role, daytime and midnight obligations. The routine split his waking hours and stretched them paper thin.  Now more than ever,  he typically shirked as much off time as he was offered. And yet, he had to remember to prioritize levity and breaks– and in this case, indulge his treasured friend’s interests and ‘take one for the team’. Good for morale, he reasoned, just this once. 

The occasion was also a way for you to integrate with the group in an informal setting– great for the transplant from the States. You’ve taken amicably to the group of alumni-turned-faculty at UA, though much still remained a mystery about you, presently being peeled back bit by bit through stories and slips of the tongue. There was only so much a dossier could truly reveal about a person- even one curated by S.W.O.R.D. to volunteer aid their Japanese counterparts in their hero work.

It couldn’t tell what kind of teacher you’d turned out to be. Even with no experience working with students, you tread the line between instilling team-centered outlooks and pushing their quirk’s limitations to their max benefit. A crafty, inventive counterpart to complement his blunt teaching style: better together, and even the principal agreed.

It couldn’t point out where your true ambitions lie or where your drive came from. There remained much to be explained as far as your hero status here in Japan– a red-tape nightmare Aizawa was still intrigued to learn about. So far, you’d shared some limitations about “immigration statuses are being vetted with a fine toothed comb, so they’re still trekking through the paperwork”, so your wings are essentially clipped down to a student’s provisional license. This doesn’t please you too much, but you’re driven as much as his finest students with the aire of a professional he’d love to see in full action.

It couldn’t explain the stillness you could dip into, that he only caught once or twice when you believe yourself alone. There’s a past was weighing your shoulders level and compliant in the eyes of the law… but an urge to push back and ‘play this out’  brought hypotheticals to your lips whenever you chatted about what hero life is like for him, and added a sparkle to the eye that he had yet to fully source.

It couldn’t give away the gentleness you hold behind a carefully guarded smile– even in this harsh hero world. Maybe it was that indomitable spirit that those foolhardy patriots overseas carried… or rather, maybe it was the way you fought against such a loud persona. So far, Aizawa has taken only a few notes, but each little mental post-it was cluttering up his headspace. You held a quiet love of tea, a comical passion for the oxford comma, and a mind to care for the little things in life– like the lizards you rescue in an inverted cup to take outside where they belong . 

Surely life must have treated you hard to elicit such softness. Something tenderized you to achieve the peace you carry around or else you’re wearing a damn good mask. No, he determines you had to have made a choice to continue on the path that’s brought you to the present– even to this table where you’re taking your fill of maki rolls while casting little caring glances his way. 

All smiles and calm surety, as he mills through his thoughts that are damn near obsessed with you.

An employee file could never record ‘heart’, anymore than it could expose anything you didn’t want to reveal.

The night progresses while Aizawa stews on these thoughts, and plenty of others… for the ones that drift to his co-teacher offer him more mental stimulation than that he finds in the club’s lights and music.

Yamada’s night of filling his social battery was made nearly perfect by the karaoke that just started. Several of the other teachers got preoccupied in round after round of song, so it left Aizawa with a moment's peace. 

Well, peace he was going to enjoy by laying back on the couch for a little shuteye–  when his gut jumped at the feeling of a hand trailing up his forearm to the elbow with a polite, companionable touch. 

Facing its owner, Aizawa caught your little smirk and nod towards the balcony. You didn't pull hard, yet he followed like a magnet out to the patio. 

From there, rather than stay by the door to listen in on their friends ‘releasing their inhibitions and feeling the rain on their skin’,  you took him to the right, where a matching lounge set positioned itself in a blind spot between the rooftop bar and the fire escape. 

"Thought you looked like you could benefit from some soundproofing~" you brushed your hair back over one shoulder to follow the breeze’s direction, and left an open spot next to you by the railing. 

Nightlife and neon didn’t hold magic for Eraserhead given as many nights as he’s spent perched on precarious heights, but through a newcomer’s eyes, he could see the appeal. This part of the city glowed at night from dusk to dawn, and you clearly loved looking out over it; Aizawa certainly didn't mind this view either. 

Your perception skills are spot on, and incredibly thoughtful as you’ve suggested some fresh air- for his sake. If he wasn’t drawn to you any of the other times he’s paid attention to the spastic moths a more romantic person might call ‘butterflies’ before…  this cements each and every one as valid. 

He likes you. He really likes you. 

Time passed with appreciative quiet until you spoke again, 

"The only thing is, you can't really see stars in the city... there’s too much light."

"The beaches have a nice view," Aizawa replied after some thought.

"Oh yeah?"

"Enough to stargaze properly,” he offered without much sentimentality. Right by the pier was the best spot he and his former classmates would go on the weekends, before their hero work took off.

"I'll have to remember to take a drive there. Y'know, sometime when I'm not in two-and-a-half-inch heels." you chuckled as you shuffled back to the rattan settee, sitting for a bit to stretch out your legs. "I don't know how Nemuri does it."

"Feet hurt already?" Aizawa snuck his hands from his pockets and came to the seat across from yours. “Night’s young.”

"Getting there,"  your laugh greeted him over, "But you know what they say, dress to impress and all that. Yamada really pitched some hype for this afterparty, so~"

Fashion was hardly something that ever swayed Aizawa’s decision-making. Utilitarian was the way to go for his wardrobe- then, as now. 

"If aesthetics are all that determine these pros’ attention, that’s horribly vain." 

You bristled in good humor, 

"He didn't mean it like that– I just meant, he said to look nice for fun instead of for work. Call it ‘girl code’ if you want. We know that means to– just– /doll up a bit/!"

Aizawa held back a snicker at how you still ran into difficulties finding the most apt Japanese equivalents in your (pretty decently executed) second language. English slang you reverted to in moments like these fell from your mouth with an odd drawl. Still couldn’t place the regional accent you carried, but it charmed Aizawa all the same. 

“//Doll up//?” he mimicked. 

"//I like dolling up//!"

Aizawa reached and pulled his glass to his lips, meant to look aloof but not hiding his interest altogether well. 

"You don’t need to put on airs to get people to notice you…" 

"Right, because the accent gives me away."

"No, it’s your-”

Finally, a coward’s streak flared deep in his belly to shut him up. A rare hesitation. Damn this. What the hell’s happening to me–

 “–nevermind."

"My what?" you’re fully  interested, knowing a secret when it's presented.

"Nothing important."

Thankfully you not-so-subtlety dropped it with a hummed ‘ok’, but kept a watchful eye for him in your peripherals. 

The pro hero mused. Better for him to be honest, right? 

Just choose your words carefully. You’ll have to look her in the eye after this, you know. 

Aizawa widened his seated stance so his knee barely breached your space. 

Your sights lifted to him while he put his best poker face on. It’s not really any different than what he’d give to a perfect stranger– the only difference here is he has to force it.

Shit shit shit you're in deep, Shouta.

"You're plenty noticeable as you are. Anyone who meets you can see that," Aizawa shared in his usual soft-spoken tone. "Give ‘em ten minutes, and you've got them wrapped around your finger. It’s a whole impression, not just the outer package. Doesn't matter if you're in a dress that costs a month’s paycheck or a black button down. You're welcoming, sincere..." 

He’s realizing he might be trailing off, but finding you listening with full attention led him on; no liquid courage required. 

"You're stunning from the inside out. Enough to get others to notice."

Aizawa heard your appreciation before he saw it, a hum preceding the a genteel smile. With the win of his walls coming down, he had to give an honest smirk back. It was only fair; you’d earned it just by being you. By your flattered look, you were touched– but your brain was still working beneath the surface, and soon showed by a fleeting expression that spit from him.

Then, you caught your bottom lip for a second, before daring to look in Aizawa’s eyes again. It’s a sneaky look– like he’d snuck a peek at a card he’d meant to hide.

"...You remember what I wore on my first day at UA."

It was half question, half amusement. So dear, but oh-so pointed.

Aizawa froze.

"Black button down. You noticed me, then?" you countered more, "And here I thought you didn't care about appearances~" 

"In professional circles, no. Personal… that's a different thing, entirely." 

He kept your  sights locked onto his, not unlike how he used his quirk in a challenge– only far softer and he could risk the occasional blink.

Even when you took his glass from his hand and placed it away on the table alongside yours, he still looked fondly after you, in fact tilting his head to the other side, studying the way one piece of your hair was caught by your neck. What he’d give to be familiar with you enough to ever-so-carefully brush it back, letting his touch send a wave of shivers across your skin and maybe even make you hum at the gesture. But he couldn’t trust himself to do it now, settling on stretching his arm around the back of the couch. Just an open move, letting you join him on the couch as close as you’d like.

Was he really doing this? He never has before, but this felt so natural. 

You smiled still– and as you sit, you’re leaning into it.  Well then. 

“What was I wearing, Aizawa?”

With free fingers, he risked some little brushes on your near shoulder, bringing a happy little eyebrow lift from you. He just took in your features in close quarters, settled in it, as he remembered that day:

Black button down, grey skirt. Biker boots -practical choice- and these damn tights.

Aizawa’s dazed in the head, but he knows he's listed it off aloud based on how your sights widen, impressed. 

"Hmmm, tights do it for ya?” you smiled, “I'm surprised you haven't jumped the darling Ms. Nemuri then."

"I know way too much about Kayama to ever consider her that way,”  Aizawa’s tempered hand twirled a finger along a blown-away section of hair, just absently enough. “You however, tease just enough." 

"Do I tease you?” you offer with a little depth, “I don't mean to."

It’s here he’s worry he’s stepping over a line- if it weren’t for the downright delicious look in your eye. You say it like you’re sorry for acting unprofessionally– but you’re urging him on, hardly apologetic for your sweet posturing.

"You may not mean it, but it's not unnoticed," 

He took second to swallow, and steps fully over it. 

"or unwelcome."

You’re pleased with this, but deflect with your trademarked humor- 

"Well now that’s saying something. You've seen me in my pjs, too- far from glamorous.  That didn't break the allure for you?"

Aizawa had to huff though his nose at that memory.

"I caught you at arguably your most real self, that first night you patched me up," His outstretched arm rubbed full circles onto your shoulder now, with the lightest touch. 

“Still have no clue why you chose me over Recovery Girl. For the harshest grader in school, that was a pretty dumb move.”

“You were closer than going to campus. It was the practical choice.”

“You didn't even know if I knew first aid.” 

“You do,” Aizawa smirked. “You're too nurturing to not have a knack for it.”

Your legs crossed over, deflecting both your words and refreshing your body movement. In doing so, you slid even closer- a move not lost on Aizawa. 

“Well, I'm still not happy about it. You needed more attending than I was able to pull off. Whatever you get into those nights,” you flitted a look to the underside of his arm that lays outstretched –where you know he sports a scar now- “It… looked like it hurt, ‘Zawa.”

Warm. Warm and cared form. Felt it then, feel it now. That's the life in his chest he gets when he’s around you. 

"Can't change the past, and I certainly wouldn't have changed that. Wouldn’t pass up seeing that sight of you for the world."

This connection, this dance, it all feels that it must be older than what it is, more rooted in a shared history than a short few months. 

Aizawa wants to ‘get’ you. Know the thoughts behind your eyes. Get you talking, even if it means he needs to give up his silent nights and muted text alerts so he can learn you.  He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you, out from other’s eyes, to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

His eyes narrowed playfully, "Are you embarrassed right now?"

Out of this entire teasing exchange, that note seemed to surprise you and turned you shy.  Short of clapping a hand onto your cheek, you just darted your gaze away- can you be cuter if you tried?

“h-Yeah, a little!" –though you tried to snark your way out of it, "you were hurt before, and blubbery- but now that we’re y'know– awake, and talking... Pretty faces make me nervous."

Nervous? Pretty? Aizawa doesn’t like the sound of either of those.

Aizawa raised a brow and gave a look, a touch more serious.

"Hey," He tapped your chin still with his free hand, "if you want me to lay off, you say the word."

Blindly, you hold his hand from retreating away– "No. You're good, I promise."

He’s drowning in you leaning into the cool touch offered to you–

“ Heh, I–uh… I’m pretty sure ‘friends’ don’t talk about each other like this, though.”

He couldn't be a coward now– not with you melting on the spot and giving him an insane amount of hope.

“Maybe not,” Aizawa reasoned gently, “-not if they’re content to stay that way.” 

–then all of a sudden his heart soared at her next words:

"Well… I like this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like you, like this.” With your insistence for touch, you cupped his wrist in your own chill-tipped hand.

Hell yeah. 

Aizawa huffs another win in his foolish heart, but then watches as you keep talking–  you don’t break from your softness, but look reflective off to an absent point on his chest.

“It’s funny, y'know? Most jobs, you’d be lucky to find someone you would actually wanna talk to outside of board meetings and quarterly reports… but here in our line of work, you count on each other to save your lives.”

“That’s right.” Aizawa breathes.

“I uh.. never thought I’d be workin’ with kids- trying to keep them alive too. Teach them how to do the same. But I wouldn’t feel nearly as confident to do it, rise to the challenge, if it weren’t for you, ‘Zawa. You’re just as special. Inside and out.”

And when you look to his eyes again, fully awake and still sober, he swears he’ll say yes to any night Hizashi invites him to if it means he can have you this close. Things with you just feel lived-in. Companionable. He’s drawn to you in a way unlike others before you, because he didn’t believe he’s had the right, desire, or time to even entertain it. 

But everything’s different now. It just works, in his mind. He wants to spend his respites, his missions, everything- with you at his side, having his back. For however long you’d let him.

Touching your cheek, cursing the helmet you’d have to wear on the way home that would hide this angelic face from him once again– Aizawa curls towards you, barely tipping his head which screams ‘kiss her you ass’. You notice, and follow his lead almost halfway. 

“Yeah, I like you like this…” you sighed lightly, “--and I’d like us like this, too.” 

"Hm. Good."

...the door to the patio swinging open from around the corner startles you both. Present Mic doesn’t know his strength as he projects for the block to hear, swaggering about in his search.

You looked flustered sitting back up, but Aizawa was characteristically unphased at the sight of Hizashi finally rounding with a singsong cry of his name. 

Dammit.

"Hey kids, been looking for YOU, Miss America! There's some stateside artists on the karaoke lineup with your name on iiiiit- c’mon! I hyped you already to Nemuri– she didn't believe me that you sang with me for my English midterms!!"

"What?!” you blanched, “ Who said I was doing that?"

"I did!!” Yamada thumbed at his own brilliance, “ C’mon I'll do the first one with you!"

"First one– Dude, I don't need to be touting my Southern-ass self to a bunch of pros before I even make a name for myself here."

"This is HOW you'll do it! Come n’ wow them, break the ice- you’ll do amazing!" Yamada came to your side of the settee, tugging you up to your feet with little fight. "Tch, Sho, you're rubbing off on her, aren't you? Turning our sweet teach into a wallflower as we speak, huh?"

"She was doing me a favor- has an eye out for me when I needed an escape, unlike you." Aizawa droned, to your amusement.

"Yeah yeah fair enough. Now pleeeeeease, would you come inside?  It would be so much fun!"

From the way you’re freshening your jacket collar, you’re warmed from the neck up, caught between what just almost happened and the current situation Yamada is putting you in.

You look to Aizawa just like you did inside– a  glance, but it lingers longer than before. Like you are waiting to see what he thinks. If he’ll stay or go, should you leave. 

But Aizawa isn’t so selfish like before. He doesn’t feel it necessary to keep you to himself, because he sees your affection so clearly in your eyes now. He hosts butterflies in his stomach, yes, but they aren’t frantic and flitting about wondering what you may or may not think of him- chronically tired and a contrast to the breath of fresh air you are. You see him as a companion, too. Someone he might just get the chance to study, and learn, and adore in return.

No, he knows you like him as he is. Knows you’ll choose to meet him where he stands. He can share you, and will simply watch on as you stun him even more...

The Pro-Hero is desperate for some eyedrops in all this wind outside, but he would grin and bear it if you choose to deny Yamada’s pull on you. So instead, he merely leans forward to perch on his knees, with a hand on the lip of both your drinks. What Aizawa says in his non-answer left it open to what you wanted to do.  Stay or go, he’d follow suit.

Returning to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed fellow teacher, you breathily gave in with your ‘ok’. 

"YEAAAAAUHHHH!"

"Damn peer pressure."

"You said yes," Aizawa smirked.

"Oh if she’s going, you're coming in too!" Hizashi was already whisking you away, and Aizawa rose on his own, following your knowing smile over your shoulder and matching it. 

With many forced karaoke and radio show nights, it’s Aizawa who braves the crowd and comes up behind you at one of Present Mic’s shows,  stepping in from the balcony where you wait by its door. He’s fresh off of work, sporting a new scar across his cheek courtesy of his day job, this time.. but you greet him with that familiar scrunch of the nose that he still finds adorable.

It’s rare he leaves campus nowadays, because he feels the stakes are higher than ever for him to remain vigilant. His students are his life, and as proud of them as he is, they are a constant effort of his mind and strength. Rest doesn’t come easy, and his rewards for a job (passably) done aren’t found in many places. 

One constant he has found helps, has been you. 

You, still alluring as ever, but who makes sure he doesn’t fixate on giving and giving of himself until he breaks– but to take his rests, reset, and even take a little jaunt over to these radio shows when he has staff coverage back at the dorms. Gives you two some time to get nostalgic, sentimental– or as close as he can get to those mushy spots in his heart about the club where he wrestled out his feelings for you for the first time.

He smooths a hand across your lower back now, when he joins you. He’s held onto your hands when they're cold, giving you whatever warmth he has. He knows each and every gap on your resume, partnered with you out on the streets, tag-teams in his classroom with this plucky 1-A Class he now leads, and is content to let you fill his thoughts when he wants to rest his eyes.

He doesn’t fight his affections now. Still would rather not simper in public too much because he’s quite averse to being the center of tabloids’ attentions, but stands by you all the same. 

"I'm surprised to not see you up there,” Aizawa greets, cool as ever. 

You lean on a hip, closer to him. 

"He's got his sets lined up today, didn't ask me-” You speak a little louder over the crowd, “I swear, your cockatoo still acts like I'm some gift from the heavens, just ‘cuz I can sing!"

"It's earned. You deserve every bit of it, and not just from Hizashi."

You turned over to him shyly, drawing his attention further– your tendencies to melt under his words encourages Aizawa to compliment you directly. Often. Whatever it is about his voice that you say you’re obsessed with, he still doesn’t understand– but he uses it to full advantage as he robs your drink from your hand,

"I happen to think you have a gorgeous voice," Aizawa speaks low to your ear. “You should sing at home more often.”

“Please. As if the kids would ever let me live it down.”

You refer -of course- to the twenty shared students between you, taking them all in stride since you’ve sufficiently bonded through fire alongside them. 

“That’s teaching for ya. Gotta push yourself beyond, plus ultra and all that.”

You chortle back in your throat, risking a kiss on his etched cheek to counter his snide remark, 

“You’re off the clock, ‘Zawa. No more hero talk, huh?” 

Aizawa cocks a brow, stealing a sip, “Sorry we can’t all turn it off like you, dear.”

The comment has you biting the inside of your mouth at the tease, and allows him a quick moment to press the glass’ condensation against his eye. 

“Want some air, hon?” you try again, softer than this atmosphere should allow.

Looking back at you -your hold on his elbow ready to guide him outside just like the first night- and Aizawa doesn’t need any more sips of the whiskey he holds.  

The retreat to ‘your couch’ is one he looks forward to any chance he gets. Bass boosted from the speakers inside becomes background noise that dulls his senses, doubled by the way you cozy up under his arm watching the skyline shift in light and color in comfortable silence. You trade roles with him: taking watch while he shuts his eyes for some restorative hydration. 

But before he gets too terribly relaxed by your weight settling his aching muscles to stillness, he registers a warm press to his mouth that he’s quick to chase after. That’s a satisfying thought, too: he doesn't have to imagine what it'd be like to kiss you anymore. 

[tellmegoodbye]

Hello everyone,

Happy LONE STAR DAY!!

I have a few housekeeping things to talk about before I return to our usual Music Monday format, but I know we're all excited for tonight so I will try to keep this brief.

If you would like to check out our playlist for the countdown event you can find that here.

Since we are getting new episodes now, I thought it would be a cool idea for a new way to participate in the tag. If you have a song that you relate to the new episodes, share them with us!

Please continue to refer to this post for any new Music Monday info, or if you just need a refresher on how the tag works.

Here's a quick overview of what Music Monday is for those of you who are new here. You share your songs that you relate to the show, its characters, storylines, fanfics, etc. All songs are added to their respective playlists and your explanations are added to the docs I have created for each playlist.

Reminder: Make sure to either tag me in your posts OR you can use the 911ls music mondays tag so that I can find and reblog your contributions.

Okay, now that we've got that out of the way, onto my songs for the week!

---

Leave Out All The Rest - Linkin Park

I dreamed I was missing You were so scared But no one would listen Cause no one else cared After my dreaming I woke with this fear What am I leaving When I'm done here?

Don't be afraid I've taken my beating I've shared what I've made I'm strong on the surface Not all the way through I've never been perfect But neither have you So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

When my time comes Forget the wrong that I've done Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed And don't resent me And when you're feeling empty Keep me in your memory Leave out all the rest

This song is a reflection on the way we live our lives and how we will be remembered when we're gone. When I think about these lyrics in the context of Lone Star, they could really apply to any character, but Gabriel is who specifically comes to my mind for this song.

To me, this is Gabriel's message to Carlos. He's spent a lot of time reflecting on his own mistakes and has struggled to express the love he has for his son, but he hopes that Carlos will remember him as someone who never stopped trying and who always strived to be better. He didn't always get it right, but he looks at Carlos and feels so much love and pride, and he wants Carlos to know that and to see that.

Zzyzx Rd. - Stone Sour

Propped up by lies and promises Saving my place as life forgets Maybe it's time I saw the world

I'm only here for a while But patience is not my style And I'm so tired that I gotta go

What am I supposed to hide now? What am I suppose to do? Did you really think I wouldn't see this through Tell me I should stick around for you Tell me I could have it all I'm still too tired to care and I gotta go

I'm over existing in limbo I'm over the myths and placebos I don't really mind if I just fade away

I'm ready to live with my family I'm ready to die in obscurity 'Cause I'm so tired that I gotta go

This is a song written from the perspective of someone struggling with addiction. The narrator addresses his loved ones with a sort of brutal honesty about his feelings towards life, but it's also a song about love and support at the same time. It's about someone who is there for you even when you're in your worst moments and can't see a way out.

This song reminds me of TK and Owen in s1. Owen is ready to do whatever he has to do in order to help TK, and TK lets him in as much as he can, but these lyrics are also an realistic viewpoint on the state of his mental health in the aftermath of his suicide attempt. He knows Owen loves him and is there for him, but he still needs to find that healing outside of that support.

Impossible - Nothing But Thieves

Love, it stings and then it laughs At every beat of my battered heart A sudden jolt, a tender kiss I know I'm gonna die of this And that's because

I could drown myself in someone like you I could dive so deep I never come out I thought it was impossible But you make it possible

I'll take the smooth with the rough Feels so fucked up to be in love Another day, another night Stuck in my own head but you pull me out You pull me out

I really hit y'all with a couple angsty gems today, so I should probably round this post out with a more upbeat song. This song screams Tarlos to me, and reminds me of the early days of their relationship where everything is new and overwhelming, but it also just feels right at the same time. They've come to that realization that what they have is something special, and that they might have found their soulmate. Before they met, such a notion felt impossible to them.

@strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe @heartstringsduet @herefortarlos

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