#could use less animal abuse but i think he's going somewhere with that

[keeps-ache]

teeth achieved. [goes to sleep]

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

“I really hate when you do that”

Various Golden Wind antagonists x reader and their habits you don’t like

Headcanons style

Content, plz read: MEAN and aggressive behavior, toxic behaviors, creepy behaviors (I mean Melone is here he’s kinda a warning in his own right), slightly suggestive

Characters: all of La Squadra (no Sorbet and Gelato), Squalo+Tiziano (they’re a couple+reader), Diavolo/Doppio

-Formaggio: Besides the blatant animal abuse, he also does that really obnoxious thing where he eats whipped cream right out of the can. Staring at him with horror or disgust will not dissuade him, might even encourage him honestly. He likes doing stuff just to get a reaction out of you, which is Another problem. Sometimes he’ll shrink your furniture just to mess with you. And he totally shrinks you too, but only a bit, and only when he thinks it’s funny, such as when you’re trying to reach something on a high up shelf. Jerk.

-Illuso: He’ll just invite himself into your apartment whenever he wants. You’ll get home, and hear your shower running, and unfortunately he’s done this enough times you don’t bother with freaking out or rushing him to get out of your shower or begging him to not use all your shampoo this time. You just go in there while he’s showering and flush the toilet so the shower water gets really hot for a minute. He has SOME NERVE getting mad at you for that. Doesn’t he have his OWN shower somewhere?? But Nooooo it’s More Romantic and intimate or something to use yours, and the bastard even uses your towel-

You curse that he is a professional assassin…no matter how thoroughly you locked the doors, Illuso would find a way in, and make himself right at home.

-Prosciutto: He never learns how to speak nicely to you, smh. Sure he’s not as horribly harsh as when you were just acquaintances, but he’s still very. Mean. It’s just how he is…you gotta wonder if he even hears himself sometimes. Whether it be mean names, bossing you around, or just generally talking harshly to you he is Always so MEAN in a way that definitely goes past “tough love”. And he gets very dismissive if you try to say anything, but at least he can tell when he goes too far and severely hurts your feelings, and he’ll Try to tone it down just a bit for the sake of his marriage. Getting an apology out of him is nigh impossible but at least he’s not bullying you over nothing constantly anymore.

-Pesci: He’s honestly not that bad, but you really wish he was a bit more confident in himself and a bit less attached to his big brother. Like, he’s hard to plan stuff with, because he often has plans with Prosciutto…oh but…you can come along too, his big brother probably won’t mind…

You really don’t want to hang out with both of them though. Just Pesci. And you honestly don’t really like Prosciutto, suspecting his smothering type of “tough love” is much more of a burden for Pesci than a help. But you have literally no idea how to approach that conversation without sounding like the bad guy. No matter how you cut it, at this point in your relationship, Pesci is much more likely to listen to Prosciutto’s logic than yours, much to your irritation.

-Melone: WHERE TO START. He says everything that comes to mind when he’s around you. Every. Thing. He does not hold back, licking his lips, ALWAYS in your personal space while he makes weird comments about you. You swear if he could he’d just fuse himself to you so he could always be physically close to you. He practically crawls into your lap when he gets the opportunity to sit close to you, and he takes asking him to back up or give you space as a joke until you’ve been pushed far enough to consider smacking him away. And he is very, very obsessive, remembering every detail about you in a creepy way. And also one time early in your relationship before you had Ever even started discussing sharing a bed with him you woke up to him just IN YOUR BED WITH YOU?! And he was genuinely confused when you yelled at him and kicked him out of your bedroom. He’s your boyfriend, right??? Why are you chasing him out???? It’s romantic and normal for couples to share a bed right??? What does it matter if you’ve only been on 1.5 dates??

You had Nero talk with him about leaving you alone at night until when you were ready to proceed to that point with him. He really doesn’t understand but at least he doesn’t argue with his boss.

Oh and he totally steals your recently worn clothes. It’s “romantic” to put them under his pillow at night, smh.

-Ghiaccio: If you didn’t know he had a temper when you started dating him, I’m afraid that’s on you at this point lol. He gets angry SO easily over EVERYTHING, and YEAH you are not immune to his rage just because you’re his sweetheart. He doesn’t put his hands on you when he gets into his awful moods (he’s got enough sense to know that would end Extremely badly for everyone involved) but everything else around you is fair game. Expect him to trash his or your apartment when he’s in one of his (frequent) foul moods, flipping and throwing furniture, punching holes in the walls, purposefully breaking anything he can get his hands on…most of your arguments aren’t even about his temper directly, more often about the amount of money he’s costing both of you with his outbursts.

And the YELLING. He talks so fast and so loud and expects you to hear every word…a man who goes into frequent rants…you love him a lot but sometimes he talks way too much. And eventually you get somewhat used to it but…Ghiaccio even rants and twitches in his sleep (he has got to be one of THE most unpleasant men to sleep next to oml). Snoring would be one thing, sleep talking too, but Ghiaccio sleep yells at some invisible offender. Never in your life had you considered smothering him with a pillow until you hear him yelling full freaking sentences for five straight minutes in his sleep.

-Risotto Nero: He is SO stoic, no matter how he Feels about something he’s barely going to show any sort of reaction at all. You absolutely cannot surprise this man or make him smile no matter what you do. The worst part is he picks up on your frustrations that he doesn’t really emote or laugh or anything like that, so he’ll fake reactions, but he’s Not a very good actor, so you totally know he’s just pretending for you. And it’s honestly kinda creepy watching him fake smile or fake laugh, like, “ew, Risotto what are you doing with your face?” He sounds like he’s…barking slowly when he tries to fake a laugh. You tell him he does Not have to do that but for some reason he feels obligated to fake such things for your sake. Honestly you find it a little bit hurtful he thinks he has to change his mannerisms for your sake, but it is admittedly a bit funny when he freaks out the rest of his team by trying to react to you.

-Squalo and Tiziano: Squalo can be SO impulsive sometimes, SO impulsive. He takes it Very personally when he thinks either you or Tiziano have been disrespected, and that means he might freak out a bit since he feels like he’s the one who has to protect the two of you, for whatever reason. You and Tiziano often have to calm him down before things Escalate. And Tiziano…he frequently explains things to you and Squalo that you really don’t need explained. And he’s almost always very levelheaded, which can make him feel a bit condescending when Squalo or you get upset but you both know he’s just trying to help when he doesn’t give in to your more fiery emotions. He won’t usually let the two of you just let it all out when you’re stressed, expect him to always give advice even when you just want to rant.

-Diavolo/Doppio: The paranoia drives you Insane. Diavolo is a very smothering partner, always hovering around you, keeping those poisonous green eyes on you, watching for any sign of betrayal or malicious intent from you…any hint that you’re scheming something, any excuse to cut you down and finally reach that perfect anonymity. But as long as he enjoys your companionship, without any real motivation he won’t kill you. And Doppio is frustrating to deal with, in charge of keeping you entertained when Diavolo was not in the mood to deal with you. If he was going to be such a loner, you didn’t see the point of him practically handcuffing you to him. Most often you only had Doppio for company. He was sweet but even with his understanding of the situation, he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. How far was he supposed to go to keep you happy? The Boss said to just buy you whatever you asked for, and give in to all your demands but…eventually you were gonna get experimental with what you would ask for, right? It’s very annoying that every time you ask for anything, he gets a call from Diavolo telling him if it’s okay or not to comply with what you wish for. If it’s not okay, you’re certain to get into an unpleasant argument with the Boss about it when he’s finally ready to appear in front of you again. Sometimes he’ll disappear behind Doppio for weeks or even months, but you know he’s always watching and listening. You really wish he’d put some effort to being a little less elusive with you, given that you were the only person actually allowed to look at him.

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Seven)

Summary: He didn’t want to let his little dove go. He wanted to hold her close, feel her warmth and smell her sweetness. He wanted her softness and light for himself. She made the days of his cursed existence so much easier to bear. She gave him purpose, she gave him happiness with every bright smile and light touch. She was giving him his humanity back—he could feel it, his emotions less dulled each day, his mind clearer. He didn't know how to let her go, and return back to the way things used to be. He didn't know if he could. Word Count: 3426 Warnings: still no smut (but Ghost has explicit thoughts again), mentioned past child abuse, mentioned animal death (a zombie's gotta eat), Johnny continues to haunt the narrative (I almost feel like he should get his own character tag at this point, he talks so goddamn much in Ghost's head) Notes: Triple asterisk (***) denotes a POV change as usual, dash asterisk dash (-*-) is a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. AO3, Masterlist

After emptying the remains of the water cooler into a bottle found in the kitchen, Ghost and his dove resumed their methodical search of the town for supplies.

It was a small town, though larger than a village. Ghost knew they wouldn't have the time to search each and every house—right now, he was guiding Lelia to any spots that looked like they might have the essentials. More water, mostly, but also a map of their surroundings. He wanted to find somewhere that his dove could safely nest for the winter, and a town wasn't it. Other survivors would undoubtedly come through looking for supplies of their own—and with only being a day's drive at most from the military base she’d escaped from, Ghost knew those survivors likely wouldn't be friendly.

It did make him wonder, though. What would happen if they did come across a group of good people who were willing to take Lelia in? There was no way he would be welcome to join as well, he knew. He would probably be killed on the spot, unwilling to fight back and risk her getting caught in the crossfire.

He knew what he should do, if they ran into other people: Watch them for a few days, get a sense of if they were the right sort. If they were, lead Lelia to them, and disappear so they could find her. Trail them afterwards to make sure she was accepted, safe, and happy… and then let her go. Let her be with other humans, where she belonged, and not stuck with a monster like him.

He knew that was what he should do. He just didn't think he had the strength to.

He didn’t want to let his little dove go. He wanted to hold her close, feel her warmth and smell her sweetness. He wanted her softness and light for himself. She made the days of his cursed existence so much easier to bear. She gave him purpose, she gave him happiness with every bright smile and light touch. She was giving him his humanity back—he could feel it, his emotions less dulled each day, his mind clearer. He didn't know how to let her go, and return back to the way things used to be. He didn't know if he could.

So, telling himself that it was what was safest for her and only lying a little bit, he prepared her for a journey to somewhere more isolated.

They didn’t find a map that day or the next—no one kept printed maps or even atlases anymore, it seemed, far too reliant on technology—but they did find a long, designer puffer coat that Lelia squealed over happily, as well as a few cases of water bottles. Ghost, who had been loaded up like a pack mule, was relieved to discover a little red wagon in the garage of the house they holed up in on the third night. His dove was so chronically malnutritioned that she couldn't even carry the pack of canned food without needing to stop and rest every half hour—but he couldn’t afford to be bogged down by supplies incase of an attack. The wagon was the perfect solution—he’d drag it along behind him and could easily drop the handle and move to protect Lelia if need be.

Around four days since he’d last eaten, Ghost found himself sniffing her far more than he was comfortable with. So he kept his distance until nighttime, and then repeated his pantomime show of telling her to lock her door and barricade herself inside the room with her supplies. She understood what was happening this time and obeyed without protest, simply telling him to be safe.

When he came back an hour later, she was ready with the dusty toothbrush and tube of toothpaste they’d taken from the house with the water cooler. She even used some water from one of the bottles they’d found—despite his protests—to gently clean his face and hands. It was the most she’d touched him since the last time she’d scrubbed his teeth—though not the first time since. She tended to walk closer to him now, enough that their hands brushed every so often. He’d stopped wearing his gloves entirely, just to be able to feel it a little better. Sometimes she grabbed onto his arm, too, when she saw something that scared her—which was often—or something that she was excited about—which was rare. It was nice. It was better than nice. It was wonderful. Every second of physical contact with her was heaven. It had been hard, keeping her at arm’s length today, but necessary. And now he would make up for it by letting her clean him, which was arguably even better, if a little embarrassing. But he would embarrass himself a thousand times over if it meant he got to feel her touch.

“There’s blood under your mask,” his dove said suddenly, her fingers slipping under the bottom edge of it. He tensed, reaching up to lightly grab her wrist, stopping her from taking it off. He looked horrifying enough with the mask on—if she saw what was beneath it, he knew he would take over staring in her nightmares from whoever Andrew—and God did he want to rip that fucker apart every time her heard her beg him for mercy in her sleep—was.

“Still won’t let me clean under it?” His dove asked, pouting. He just stared back at her, unable to be swayed, not on this. She sighed, but let it go. “Fine. But you have to clean it, then, because the blood starts to smell if you leave it there.”

He grumbled, but accepted the rag from her, releasing her wrist so she could turn around. He removed his cracked mask, looking in the mirror—trying not to flinch at the disgusting sight that greeted him—and carefully, clumsily cleaned up the little bit of rabbit blood that had snuck up towards his nose. He was lucky he still had a nose, he reminded himself.

Once he was finished and his mask firmly back on, he groaned quietly, and his dove faced him again with a smile, toothbrush at the ready.

Five minutes later—he was disappointed it didn't take as long this time, but he supposed that meant the first cleaning had worked—he was spitting toothpaste into the dirty sink, mouth tasting aggressively of mint.

“What did you eat tonight?”

Ghost looked back at Lelia, surprised by the question. Why was she asking? Was she worried he’d eaten a human?

“I had a can of peaches,” she continued, wiping her hands off on one of the dusty towels hanging on the back of the door. “I’d been trying to save that one for a special occasion, but I couldn't resist anymore. I miss sweets.”

His confusion—and slight hurt—faded when he realized she was just doing what she always did: filling the silence with chatter. It was one of the things he appreciated the most about her, after so long with only the groans of the other undead and his own thoughts for company. Although sometimes, he half expected her rambling to be thick with an indecipherable Scottish accent.

Ghost tried to make a bunny rabbit with his fingers, but his dove stared at him blankly. He huffed and then held up two fingers behind her head so she could see them in the mirror. Bunny ears.

“You ate a bunny?!” She exclaimed, horrified. “But— but they’re so cute!”

Ghost just looked at her, shrugging his stiff shoulders. It was the first thing he’d found, and he’d been trying to get back to Lelia as quickly as possible. Cuteness wasn’t a factor he took into consideration when it came to what he ate. Though if it was, it would explain why she was so tempting to him.

“Aye, tha’s a good’un,” Johnny’s voice said in his head. “Yer cute too, an’ I’d still eat ye. Eat yer sweet li’l cunny—”

He immediately shut that thought down. He wondered if the real Johnny was as much of a pervert as the one in his head, or if it was all just Ghost.

“Did you at least make sure it didn't suffer?”

Ghost focused on his dove again, and was alarmed to see that her big brown eyes were wet and wide, her bottom lip trembling. He groaned, his own eyes widening—as much as they could, at least—and he instinctively reached out to try and comfort her. But he stopped short of actually touching her, his hands hovering awkwardly over her shoulders. She was still looking up at him with that wounded expression, and he would have done just about anything to make it go away, so he nodded quickly. The rabbit had barely had time to register what was happening before he’d snapped its neck. At the time, he hadn’t done it out of mercy, but simple practicality—his meal couldn't run away if it was dead—but he couldn't have told his dove that even if he’d wanted to. Which he very much did not.

“Good,” Lelia said, relieved. She still looked sad, but not as much like she was about to burst into tears, now. Ghost let his hands fall back to his sides. “That’s good... I’m sorry. I know you need to eat, I don’t mean to make you feel guilty for that, I just… my first ever pet—my first ever friend, truly—was a little mummy bunny. She lived in the garden on our estate—that was my favorite place to play—and I found her after Father had refused to get me a pet for the dozenth time. I must have made him quite cross, since he struck me right across the face, rather than give me a spanking like usual. It was certainly more effective, though. I didn’t dare ask again. Which is why I was so pleased to find my little Serafina—that’s what I named her—that I helped her raise her babies until they were big enough to go out on their own. I’d bring them food and nesting materials, and I sat guard over them all day, everyday to make sure no foxes came to eat them. It was bittersweet, when I found the nest empty. I was happy they had all made it to adulthood, but I was so sad to see them go…”

The look in her eyes was distant, though not quite as much as it had been when they’d found the leather jacket. It had scared him, that day, just seeing her go suddenly unresponsive as tears began to stream down her face. There were no tears this time, for which he was glad, but his undead heart still ached a bit at her words. Clearly, despite growing up in the lap of luxury, she had been a lonely child, with parents not fit to raise a sensitive little dove like her.

Ghost groaned quietly and lightly bumped his hand against hers, the way she sometimes did when they were walking, trying to ground her the only way he could. He wanted to pull her into a hug, to feel her soft, warm body against his, but he knew that would be crossing a line.

The bit of contact seemed to do the trick, though, her gaze focusing on him again as she smiled once more.

It didn't quite reach her eyes.

***

It was approaching three weeks since Lelia's escape from Andrew, and a little under two since she and Simon had arrived in the abandoned town, when they finally located a map.

It was in the house Ghost had chosen for them to stay in that night. There was a study, nearly untouched, and Lelia had taken the opportunity to explore the packed bookshelves. She missed her own collection very much—she hadn’t been allowed to bring it with her, once she’d gotten married. The only book she’d been able to sneak away was the hand-bound collection of Russian poetry her governess, Ulyana, had given her years ago. The stern old woman was the only person Lelia had confessed her love of poetry to. Ulyana had scoffed and called her a fool girl, but that was just how she was, so she didn’t take it too personally. Especially when she found the book on her nightstand a few days later.

Lelia still had it, kept tucked carefully in her pocket at all times. It had become a notebook, of sorts, where she wrote all her own poems, as well as copied down some of her favorite English ones. But it was more than that. It was the only evidence she had that someone had ever truly cared about her.

Ulyana hadn’t loved her, Lelia knew that. She would have rather been with her own family, raising her own children back in Russia. Lelia didn't understand that when she was little, but she did now. Even still, Ulyana had been more of a mother to her than Lelia’s own.

Lelia shook herself from her thoughts, peeking up from her new copy of Pride & Prejudice to look at Simon. He was standing at the desk, the map spread out in front of him, growling quietly to himself. She was familiar enough with his array of noises by now to know that he was frustrated.

“Is everything okay?” She asked softly. Simon’s head jerked up, jaw wobbling, and then his gaze darted away, his shoulders hunching slightly. Her brows furrowed in concern, and she stood up from the cozy office chair she’d curled up in, setting aside her book and crossing over to him. She laid a hand on his forearm, trying to get him to look at her again. “What’s wrong?”

To her surprise, Simon pulled away. He never pulled away from her touch—seemed to crave it, in fact, if the way his eyes slipped closed and he got all relaxed whenever she brushed his teeth was any indication—and she figured it was because he was relieved he wasn’t alone anymore. She didn’t know how long he’d been a conscious zombie, but any time spent as one had to have been hell. So when she’d noticed the way he always leaned into her hands when she cleaned him, she’d made a conscious effort to initiate more contact between them. Nothing too big—just a brush of their hands here or grabbing his arm to get his attention there—but little gestures that she hoped reminded him that he wasn’t alone anymore.

So the fact that he was denying himself the comfort he so clearly got from it? She knew something must really be bothering him.

“Simon,” she said, quiet but firm. “Talk to me.”

Simon looked back at her sharply, growling as he gestured at his broken jaw. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow at him. He knew what she’d meant. They’d gotten quite adept at communicating without speaking, over the last few weeks.

Her zombie glared at her for a moment longer before grumbling in defeat and shoving the map away from him, wordlessly naming it as the problem. She frowned, bringing it back towards them and smoothing it out as she began to guess at the specifics.

“Is the map of the wrong area?” She asked. Simon shook his head. She tried again.

“Is it outdated?” Another head shake.

“Are you having trouble reading it?”

A long pause, and then Simon nodded, avoiding looking at her. It took a moment for her to recognize the emotion in his lowered gaze, the tightness around his eyes and the hunch of his shoulders. Shame.

“I have a hard time reading maps too,” she said, quick to reassure him, hating that he was feeling down about himself. He’d done so much for her—he was the reason she was alive. She was beyond grateful for him. “Even Google maps. I always ended up lost when I tried to use it.”

Her words seemed to have the opposite of their intended effect, though, as he just grew more agitated, stomping away from the desk and lashing out. He punched one of the bookshelves with a terrifying growl, cracking the wood and sending several flying to the ground. Lelia let out an alarmed noise, flinching violently as she instinctively stepped back and raised her arms to protect her head. Andrew had stopped caring about not hitting her face not long after the world ended. There was no need to keep up appearances anymore, after all.

But no angry blows came her way, and after a moment, she looked up to find Simon sitting on the ground, staring at an open book, jaw quivering where it hung as he tried and failed to speak the words in front of him, the only sounds escaping him being choked off gurgles. Slowly, hesitantly, Lelia approached. As she drew closer, she noticed the minute trembling of his shoulders, and the tremor in his hands as his fingers traced the letters of the first word on the page, over and over again. Lelia realized two things in that moment.

Simon wasn’t having trouble reading the map. He couldn’t read the map. He couldn’t read.

And, much more importantly to her, he was crying.

His cloudy eyes were bone dry, but the noises he made and the way he shook was hauntingly familiar. Lelia’s heart broke, and she lowered herself down beside him before wrapping her arms around him.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, hugging him tightly. He dropped the book and turned towards her, his own large arms encircling her waist as he buried his face in her neck. Perhaps she should have been afraid. He was a zombie, and although he’d not eaten her yet, he’d admitted to thinking about it when he got hungry—and he hadn’t hunted in a few days, now. Yet she pulled him close, perfectly poised to take a chunk out her neck and feast on her flesh as she bled out. But Simon was crying, and what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t try to comfort him, after everything he’d done for her?

Lelia wasn’t sure how long she held Simon, petting his hair soothingly as he fell apart in her arms. Long enough that her body grew stiff, her bum aching from sitting on the hardwood floor. Long enough that the sun had set entirely, leaving the room in total darkness. Long enough that drool had gathered in her zombie’s mouth and dribbled out, wetting her skin and the collar of her shirt. A little even dripped inside, down her chest.

She didn’t care about any of that. All that mattered to her was being there for Simon when he needed her, like he was always there for her.

Finally, Simon sniffed deeply and then quickly pulled away, letting go of her and moving back, putting space between them. She let him, but only because she recognized the sniff as a sign that she was starting to look a little too tasty to him. He, on the other hand, looked embarrassed, and he actually groaned and buried his face in his hands when he noticed the dark splotch on her shirt. It was an entirely human gesture, and she felt her heart squeeze in her chest. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering what Simon had looked like before, back when he was alive…

“I know you need to go find something to eat,” she spoke, shaking the thought from her mind.  “So we’ll figure out the map in the morning, alright? Between the two of us, we should be able to find a way to make sense of it.”

She smiled at him when he looked up at her, and had to resist the urge to hug him again. He still looked so unsure, like a little boy afraid of being rejected—it was a jarring expression on him. Simon always knew what to do, and was always so confident about it, too. She’d seen him scare off dozens of zombies and rip apart just as many without blinking an eye. And yet here and now, in front of no one but her, he was scared. He was vulnerable.

She felt honored that he was showing that part of him to her.

“Goodnight, Simon,” she said quietly, standing up and brushing her fingers against his shoulder as she passed him, unable to help herself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then she was gone, leaving the study and disappearing into the room she’d chosen for the night.

[samfucker]

more darlin hcs..... evil laugh

tw for mention of death and drugs

im gonna give u guys the family names cus itll get confusing w the siblings i think.

their oldest brother is called lucien, then its their sister camilla, then julius (darlin) then their little brother kenji (kenny) and then the youngest, aisha.

IM SORRY IF ITS CONFUSING!!!!

their dad is called ronan and their mom is called kalliyan

ronan was a vet! he lost his leg in an explosion and wears a prosthetic which julius helped him take off and put it on. he also would take his dad to the store in his wheelchair and stuff

julius used to also get into arguments w racist strangers who would insult his parents when they didn't even know enough english to understand what was going on.

despite his parents' abuse and neglect, julius loved them he saught out their approval a lot. he wanted to make them proud and happy even if it seemed impossible. he hated himself for it and tried to stop, but he always felt ashamed and guilty when his parents would be disappointed in him. he wished he didn't care like lucien and camilla.

he used to have a little brother who was aisha's twin, but he passed away from cancer when he and aisha were very young, around 4 years old. julius was 14 and he didn't get a chance to properly until he was nearing his adult years because of how much responsibilities he had

he blamed himself for a long time. he did everything he could to give his younger siblings a good life despite their parents and he felt very useless, like he should have been able to stop it even though he was literally unable to. he cried for hours when the family dog accidentally ruined one of his little brother's stuffed animals

one of his first tattoos was one for his little brother

julius was sent to an empowered tti (troubled teen industry)

he tries to come off as very cold and aloof, but he feels things deep

his dad pushed toxic masculinity onto him and his brothers, so he was convinced he was unable to cry until being with sam

rather than letting himself feel sadness, he often let it turn into anger. it was something he was more familiar with, something that felt more manly, which is why he was so reckless

he also threw himself into dangerous situations because he cared very little for himself. he felt like he deserved the consequences because he hurts people with his anger. it was like revenge to himself for hurting people he cares about

he had unhealthy coping mechanisms, often turning to drugs whenever things became too much. he used drugs more while dating quinn. (he went to rehab in washington)

julius never really got much sleep. as a teenager, he'd either be dealing with his parents during the night or working night shifts. when it'd be neither, he'd be woken by kenji because he often got night terrors. after breaking up with quinn, he slept even less. he felt extremely guilty for his unempowered friend, trevor, being attacked by quinn. he'd have nightmares and sleepless nights filled with guilt and regret. the first time he slept a full proper night was in the cuddles and confessions audio with sam.

the first time he was healed by marie, she was so gentle and talked to him softly, like a mother should, and it was something he had been longing for from his mother for so long that he cried when he got home

ON A MORE LIGHTER NOTE...

julius used to have a crush on milo. they like pretty boys with accents, its a given

julius had more muscle than quinn. quinn was just a vampire, so he was stronger

idk if this belongs in the angst section but he used to wear one of his dad's vet hats a lot. it's still in his closet somewhere

he and his siblings would have arguments over stupid shit then forgive each other in 5 seconds. like yelling at each other than a minute later julius is like hey do you wanna go to this restaurant with me lol...

when sam zipped away from him in their very first audio, julius was sooo giddy cus he loved sam's accent

HE LOVES LIZARDS!!!! he used to go around and look for them. one of his first times at david's house as a teen there was a tiny lizard on the wall nd he just picked it up and was just like "...lizard."

hes just an awkward little loser i lvoe him.

FNAF PHASE! CREEPYPASTA PHASE! NIGHTCORE PHASE!

he has a shirt that says "blowjobs are real jobs" and he wears it unironically

one of his first roommates ever had a whole room for her big ass iguana. to this day, julius is bitter that he never got to pet it

he need glasses but he never wears them outside. he's walked past the pack and the mates multiple times without even knowing, especially cause he goes into his own little world when he walks

one time he walked past lovely with his headphones on and he couldn't tell it was them. all he thought was "dude why is this stranger staring me down??"

he calls sam his bitch sometimes cause he thinks its so funny. sam stares at him with a deadpan expression

he has a metal plate in his eye socket that he needed to get when he was a baby. he sticks magnets to his face when he's bored but it gives him really bad headaches in the cold

loves side-eyeing

will talk about his trauma casually.

"that actually reminds me of the time my mom tried to shoot my dad! haha, oh that was so crazy. the cops came. :)"

also, leather jacket luvr

he has a motorcycle

tongue piercing (sam loves it)

[chaifootsteps]

I think there's an argument to be made in favor of showing the reality of what Angel deals with on the day to day, both on the gear he wears and the SA he faces from Val.

but these kinds of scenes can very easily be exploitative; used for cheap shock value & end up fetishizing that abuse by presenting it as titillating. it's long happened to female characters where the violence becomes an excuse to show them brutalized or with their clothes ripped off and given how often Angel is sexualized it can just as easily happen to him.

Addict managed to communicate a whole history of sexual abuse committed by Valentino with just a forced kiss and a hard cut to Angel having a breakdown in his room. The scene focused on Angel's emotional distress rather than the act itself, so it avoided objectifying him further and was still effective

this is part of a wider pattern already established by Helluva Boss, where abuse is treated in the least sensitive, most sledgehammer blunt and cartoony way possible.

going by HB, abusers are:

always obvious and easy to spot,

they're complete monsters devoid of any life or interests of their own,

they have no inner lives whatsoever because they only exist to hurt the victim (Stella stays around the house despite not liking Stolas, Crimson wants to force Moxxie into a gay marriage despite being homophobic - to the guy who put his son in prison in the first place!!) - they're inconsistent and unknowable,

they abuse their victim openly in front of others everyone goes along with and tacitly approves of it (Stella's friends happily laugh at her jokes disparaging a demon prince who could kill them all despite knowing he's in earshot)

they cannot be easily stopped even when they have far less power, either in magic or social standing, than the person they're abusing (Stolas and Stella, again)

they hang around long past when they should despite the cast having ample reason to proactively do something to stop them (everyone leaves Crimson alive despite killing all his minions, Stolas knows Stella has ordered a hit on him but probably still lets Octavia spend weekends with her??)

they are fundamentally Bad People. None of the 'good' characters can every be called out for being abusive, what they do is funny - because they are fundamentally Good People. It doesn't matter how many traits Stolas and Stella have in common, he is Good and she is Bad. It also doesn't matter that Stolas sexually coerced someone for a season and a half, neglected his daughter and abused his servants, and barely feels bad about his own infidelity. He is Good so anything he does can be excused. Same with Loona - beating people is bad, but it's OK for her to give her dad a black eye and beat his head in with a picture frame, because she's one of the Good Guys. Same with Blitzo demeaning Moxxie constantly in the workplace - it's funny when he calls Moxxie fat, it's abuse when Mammon does it to Fizz

Abusers are fundamentally Other from Us, and we never need to examine our own behaviors as long as we know we are fundamentally Good.

like how is any of this making the world a better place? or advancing the understanding of abuse? it's an embarassingly dated and in places actively harmful depiction of what abuse is or isn't (I don't even want to get into the bad takes I've seen surrounding Stol/tz and what coercion is or isn't, but you can probably add that to the list too)

if the Angel scenes are as brutal as they sound then the rating should be an 18. I don't entirely blame Viv for that, I know sometimes ratings boards have a weird habit of treating works that have LGBT content as somehow 'more adult' than movies with straight up rape and SA scenes in them (though HH is both, so idk how literal bondage gear didn't up the rating), but I hope against hope there's some kind of trigger warning for this somewhere, and it isn't just dropped on the viewer's lap in order to shock them further with the world's bluntest and most graphic animated scene of SA it can

This. All of this, every word.

[knowlessman]

k so iirc jeff the killer wrote the little red book of commulism and that's where we're at in the story. I think. bnha s5e15-e19. also hawks has maybe murdered a guy cuz he's a quintuple agent or whateverthefuck. (I know stain is dead… uh, I think… but like still, we haven't heard about him in ages, huh. never did really grasp what his whole deal was, anyway.)

hawks can use his feathers as listening devices? sheesh, some of these guys get so many weird subpowers.

…yeah, endeavor would be able to keep up with deku's complicated power-analysis stuff with the percentages and whatnot in conversation. he's a minmaxer, just ask his kids. guy plays RL like it's Dorf Fortress.

Selkie… maybe B-tier? A-tier? I don't really remember who all was where when I did that list thing, but anyway he's pretty cool. -- "they boarded us? where? how?" "because I'm a seal!" 'XD

ah, uraraka got a grapple shot thing. characters keep, like, noticing when they missed something in this and getting themselves some gadget or technique to cover it so they don't miss the same trick twice. it's neat. it's a whole fricking roster of learning robots.

"they were heading to Otheon" othewhat. …okay, phew, I was kinda hoping it wasn't real 'XD

…a family dinner at the todoroki's. -- calling it, everything's gonna go more or less, idk, stable until bakugo opens his mouth. or that other brother that's there, forget his name, I guess he could start something.

endeavor having his "how do I fix this?" soliloquy again, as if he has any valid moves beyond just disengaging from his family and trying not to fuck things up like that again in the future. kinda wonder if he ever figures that out, or if the writer decides that somehow he does get redemption. any price endeavor could pay would feel far too low. -- like, I don't get "this character makes no sense" vibes from endeavor like I do with bakugo; endeavor and his family feel intelligently-written to me. …remembering that bakugo is in this show, though, makes me worry that endeavor's and/or shoto's storyline could end up going somewhere that, like, won't sit right.

"I'm sure one day… our whole family… together…" the sister is out of her damn mind, but it's not like [people in abusive families being optimistic like that] is unrealistic either -- Natsu. Fuyumi, I think, is the sister? they'll show her name again, I'm sure

deku is dang near whispering to todoroki here about "are you getting ready to forgive him?" and everybody in the entire house can hear him. fucking rice paper walls (probably not actually but they apparently are very thin walls), gawd that's terrifying

okay so they do think toya's dead (toya? touya?), wasn't positive.

who is this The Vulture-lookin-ass mfer in the intro with the green tie and the wineglass, do we know him already?

I keep forgetting this intro is called Merry-Go-Round. only anime intros.

"endeavor! my first impression [of you] was fierce red flames!" no shit sherlock, is that your quirk, that you can see?

'XDDD who the hell is this guy driving endeavor's car, where have you been hiding him? guy's hilarious. kurumada, huh?

Killua! that's who kid touya looks like! thought the picture reminded me of someone

(re the todoroki family moving out) "but what will you do, dad?" "I'll remain here" my Disney-rotted brain: "all alone, in that big house. with only his MONEY to comfort him. only his millions and millions of dollars"

prolly should cut it there but ehhhhhhh, one more

ohhh, slendervest. kurogiri. forgot they captured him. -- (whole… backstory w eraserhead and present mic and what all) …well, wow.

also dr robotnik ig

[itslenagain]

Hang on, let's start at the beginning.

I'm a demon. It happened somewhere in between all the pyramid schemes and scamming old grandmas out of their life savings to score. I was made one hell of a deal to keep myself out of trouble, but in order to make it happen, I had to trade places with the demon who propositioned me. He got my meat suit and my human life, I got to be a powerful demon who could keep ripping people off with fewer consequences. Sounded like a great deal to me at first, so I signed on the dotted line, one might say.

You know the drill. Idiots, usually white men, came and asked me for something stupid in exchange for their soul. There was the usual stuff, like "I need money NOW" or "Make me famous" or "I need to live longer." I still think my favorite had to be the guy who wanted me to turn him into a house fly. Why? He was drunk and heard they have the largest sperm cell in the animal kingdom and he wanted to, and I quote, "blow a massive load." I probably wouldn't have done it if it wasn't so fucking funny. Of course you can't take the soul of someone who's too intoxicated to consent, but I did that one for free.

But it gets so old. These assholes are slimy. Their souls are endless black holes of shit. It's like going to the orchard and walking out with a bag of rotten fruit and nobody's around to throw it at. There's only maybe one decent soul in my coffer, and even that dude went and fucked it up. The truth is, nobody comes to a demon with 100% pure intentions. There's always some ulterior motive that is so completely and utterly predictable, even if they're asking for something "good." This one wants to use the money to start a charity! Oh, but he ends up taking 50% of the donations for himself. This one wants her son to be successful! Yeah, but she emotionally and financially abuses him for the rest of her shitty life. This one wants to cure his wife's cancer! Yeah, but he's been shagging the neighbor for years and only does it to hold it over the poor woman's head. Maybe sometimes it felt.... nice? To know you'd own these fuckers and they'd soon be forced to stop their trails of destruction. But damn, their souls feel less like a gold medal and more like a sad participation certificate. I was a damn good scammer in my human days. Now I feel like one of those Nigerian Prince email scams that everyone with a functional brain stem ignores.

So I rolled my eyes when Dylan summoned me from my corner of Hell to ask for a big house with enough land for a farm. Dylan was an odd one, definitely not one of my usuals. They had a stupid hipster haircut and dressed like they were having tea with the frog prince later on. I was incredibly amused. What were their plans? Becoming a plantation owner and ripping off underprivileged laborers? Experimenting with pesticides to make super crops and lots of money while slowly poisoning the shit out of the Earth and its humans? Beastiality? The possibilities were endless. I'd gotten good at not asking why. I never liked the answers and I knew nobody ever *really* told me the whole truth anyways. So I didn't ask. I told them where to sign, made damn sure they dotted all their I's and crossed all their T's. I gave them the obligatory speel about how by signing this contract, they were giving me the ownership of their immortal soul to torture and generally violate in any way I see fit upon the agreed due date. They seemed more than happy to sign. Definitely a bizarre one. They confused me further when, upon signing, they said, "Well, everyone says I'm going to Hell anyways, might as well do it on my own terms."

So Dylan and I agreed that they would pay their debt of a human soul to me in 5 years time. I always liked to see how my deals played out, so I tended to give longer pay-by dates than some of my fellow demons. A good number ended up paying early anyways. I watched from afar to see what kind of unholy bullshit Dylan would commit now that they had sold their soul to me.

It was incredibly peculiar when Dylan, at first, started out by working the farm by themself. Carefully seeding the land, dutifully tending to the delicate sprouts, feeding and brushing and petting the cows and chickens. Aahh, the long game. The fuckery was coming, I thought. What actually came? A much different kind of fuckery than my wildest dreams could have imagined.

Suddenly, Dylan began bringing people into the house. They jokingly referred to this as "taking in strays." I waited for them to start abusing the people, forcing them to work for pennies, or holding the threat of losing their homes over their heads if they didn't submit to Dylan's weird fetishes or something. I waited and waited. It didn't happen.

Dylan brought in people in ragged clothes, people with no money, sometimes even a sad teenager whose family said they couldn't come home. Dylan showed every one of them so much care. They cooked for these people, made sure they had clean, well-fitting clothes, taught them some skills if they seemed interested. There was one woman who shook and screamed for hours while going through withdrawal from whatever cocktail of street drugs she chose to poison herself with, and Dylan held her hand and put cool cloths on her forehead for days until she started to improve. It was... fascinating. Dylan didn't expect anything from the strays they took under their roof. They genuinely just wanted these misfit humans to feel loved.

I just kept waiting. "There has to be some trick," I kept telling myself. "There's no way." The more I waited and waited for that trick to come, the more Dylan just kept proving their intentions were pure. I was astonished.

Eight months into this wild experiment, I was amazed to see Dylan cry and hug the first man who came to live in the house. He'd been living on the streets for 6 years. Dylan had helped him apply for housing, and he had been working at his first steady job in years for over 3 months now. Dylan never charged him rent, never forced him to work on the farm, never tried to abuse him in any way. I couldn't wrap my head around it. What was the catch? Why would they do something so kind for a complete stranger? I was still waiting for the trick. The master plan. They couldn't keep it up like this forever.

But it just kept going. Dylan had opened a farmer's market that offered affordable fresh produce and honey and eggs and milk and sometimes meat. It started slow in the beginning, but soon many people flocked to their market to purchase their goods. Some of the money went to buying supplies and paying bills for the house and its residents. I watched in pure confusion with what Dylan did with the profits when they started rolling on in. Dylan made large anonymous donations to mutual aid funds. Dylan established an interest-bearing savings account where they kept aside a small amount to grow into housing funds. At first, it was only for their residents, helping them find stable homes when they were ready to move on. But then, it expanded. People in the community came to the farm stand with papers and bills. Dylan paid them. No expectations, no requirement of paying a penny back. But many people did anyways, even if it took a while. Dylan opened a summer program for kids to come work on the farm and learn how to live sustainably, free of charge, so parents who couldn't afford or find childcare could find work or go to appointments or even just take a rest day. Without Dylan asking, people came and helped.

It was... beautiful. Dylan brought so much to their community. The farm project essentially eliminated homelessness in their small town, and spread to neighboring communities. They never treated themself to any money they didn't earn, and they kept their earnings intentionally low. They gave people with no house a home, people with no kin a family, people with no hope a future. They never turned away anyone seeking help. They never expected anything in return.

And so when 4 years had passed and Dylan knew their time was coming, they created a plan that would outlive them to ensure the farm would remain available to any who needed it and would not be abused. That first resident? He had become a completely changed man, and sobbed wildly when Dylan asked if he would be willing to inherit the farm and honor his wish of keeping it a safe, loving home and community for anyone in need. They laid out clear contracts, established trusts and bank accounts and the like, to make sure they could keep on helping people from beyond the mortal realm.

When Dylan's time was up, they did not fight. They did not plead. I finally asked, "why did you do it?"

They simply replied, "I did not have a safe home or food on the table or clothes on my back in my youth. All I really wanted was for someone to believe in me when nobody else did. So when I found a way to do that for other people, I had to. My wish, my dream, is that people keep benefitting from the farm for decades. I hope it will keep loving on people who need that love. And I get to die knowing I devoted the last 5 years of my life to bettering my world."

I hadn't felt like crying in decades. I wanted to cry. This soul was pure. It was a shining, brilliant beacon that didn't deserve centuries of torture and punishment. Maybe there was a small amount of selfish desire in their request, but they took 347 people and completely changed their entire lives in 5 years, with no expectation of applause or repayment. It felt wrong to put Dylan in a bag of rotten fruit. Dylan was perfectly ripe durian that should be appreciated.

So despite the pain it took to climb up to Heaven's gate, I did it, for Dylan. For the one truly pure soul I'd ever encountered. The angels were confused to see me, and even more confused when I said Dylan needed to be granted entry.

"The contract is clear. There is no loophole here. You own this person's soul." The angel eyed me with extreme suspicion. I understood why. Demons aren't known for our honesty.

"I know. And I'm telling you, I'm not leaving with it. This person saved lives. They changed their entire community with the farm I gave them. They were entirely selfless. I can't torture them. I might be a demon, but damn, I know a pure soul when I see one." The angels seem to see your point, looking at Dylan's perfectly iridescent soul.

"I'm still not sure what you're getting out of doing this," the angel steadily replied. "I've never known a demon to do something without an ulterior motive."

"....maybe I don't really 100% know what I get out of this, either, but I know what they will get out of it, and I'm not leaving until you tell me you will take them." I could feel the second layer of the dermis on my meat suit beginning to burn. Demons weren't supposed to come to Heaven. It disintegrates us. I didn't care. I would stand here and burn for Dylan. How could I not?

The angel sighs. "Well, you sure are a stubborn one." The angel pulls some dusty book out from its robe. "I'll tell you what. This is the list of souls that could have gone to Heaven if they had not been sold-"

"You have a list for that?!?!"

"The big man likes lists, OK?! Anyways, if this person's name is on the list, I'll take their soul." I held my breath as the angel flipped through pages of this dusty old book. Black blood started to run down my arms and legs. I closed my eyes. Then, I heard the pages stop turning.

"Dylan Ranidae?"

"....of fucking course that's their last name."

The angel chuckles. "Yeah, it says they're one of the good ones. A deal is a deal, so I'll take them." I crack one eye open to watch as the angel guides the shining soul across the threshold. The angel looks back at me, briefly. "Nice to know there are some decent ones left," and disappears into the clouds. My mission accomplished, I jumped off the landing and descended back into Hell. "What a weirdo," I think, not sure who exactly I'm referring to.

“This person sold their soul to you fair and square,” said the incredulous angel to the demon. “Why are you petitioning for them to enter heaven?” “Because after everything they did with what I gave them, they deserve to.”

[maggiemaple]

Good bye old state of trash

I waited my time. I sat on my hands. I took the abuse, but now fuck this. This state is dumpster fire and I'm glad I can't cross the boarder anymore. Cut off a tumor that needed removing. Hard to live somewhere full of shit memories of being cheated on over and over, ghosted, stalked, attacked and brutally beaten in every fucking way possible. For what? To be every ones punching bag than fucking tossed into the bin? Fuck off.

I think some other people need to go to therapy more then me.

Only thing I'll miss about the state is a very select few. Everyone else I can't even remember their names. Biggest win is forgetting the filth.

Starla, I love you girl. You are by the far one of the most beautiful, influencing woman I knew next to Ari. You might not have the same fire but you are a boss babe. I wish you all the best.

Polly, I get you now. I get it…I'm sorry you went through the same shit I did. Used and discarded over and over. I wish I let you get closer to me. We could have been good friends and I know you really tried to be there for me. Thank you.

Animal…you are special. Don't let anyone crap on that. Even if everyone seems to vanish on you, know that I will always remember you. I'm sorry I abandon you too…it was never my intentions. You deserve better friends.

Jacen. You deserve better than me. You became one of my best friends and now I'll never see you again. I'll miss you so much and there is a lot unsaid. I'm good at dodging the good talks huh. Please don't get tangled up with another loser bitch. You are not boring. Don't ever listen to any whore who says that to you. Ever. Also be wary of the ones who shove their number at you. I can't be there to gauge if they a ho anymore. YOU deserve an angel to love you. Don't settle for anything less. I know you'll be fine. You're amazing.

Chel I'm sorry about everything that happened. You were my best friend but everything lit on fire when my psycho ex came stalking me into the city. I wish I never let him near you. I really did think he'd treat you good but I'm an idiot always giving my exs the benefit of the doubt. He just wanted to ruin my life and started with my tightest friendship. I might not have been the best friend you deserve but I really tried to always be there on your side. I tried to make the studio into something you loved and wanted to work in. It didn't even matter the cost. I know I fuck up a lot and I'm really sorry. I hope you find your happiness. I love you girl. I hope you got out of the hospital…

HCHC 4 life! I might have had to stay out of crime but I hope my driving those few times kept you all out of the slammer or ditch. Whoever those loons were that loved chasing us got wrecked every time. I'm hard to chase I guess. Thank you for being there for me when everything felt so dark and alone. Keep fishing the big bucks. Stay out of prison.

Goodbye.

[casuallyimagining]

Home (4)

Hybrid Min Yoongi x Female Reader; Platonic OT7 x Female Reader; Namseok; Jinkook

Summary: After helping Yoongi get away from his abusive former owner, you’re left to focus on your relationship and how it progresses. That is, until you find six other hybrids who need your help, and their former owner decides he’s going to make your life hell. Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff Word Count: 2,713 Rating: M Warnings (updated per chapter): stalking, wild animal attack, major character injury, blood

Major thanks to @eatjeanjin for beta-ing this and for listening to me complain almost constantly. You’ve been nothing but helpful and sweet, and I’m so grateful for your opinions and assistance.

banners by @mintkims

Previous | Masterlist | Next

“What do you mean?” Namjoon’s fluffy grey ears were flat against his head, his deep brown eyes wide.

He laid on the bed in Yoongi’s room, his injured arm clutched tightly to his side. It wasn’t broken, thank god, and he was already starting to regain some movement in it, but he had bruised it pretty badly, so he was still in pain. Hoseok sat beside him, arm wrapped protectively around Namjoon’s good one. He was wearing a blanket like a cape—your apartment was always cold in May, but it was felt even more severely by the desert viper hybrid. They had been staying in your apartment for a few days while Namjoon recovered.

You stood leaning against the wall, Yoongi just slightly in front of you.

“If you want to,” Yoongi said quickly, his tail brushing against your leg as it swayed nervously.

“I don’t understand.” Hoseok’s voice was soft as he spoke. “Why would you do that for us?”

“No one deserves to be stuck under Seungri’s thumb.” You offered the two hybrids a small smile. “Plus, I promised that asshole that I would turn the rest of you against him if I found you.”

Namjoon laughed darkly. “I don’t think he needs help with that.”

You chuckled, but there was no happiness behind it. Seungri was a jackass. Part of you hoped that Namjoon and Hoseok had had a different experience with him, but then again, you didn’t want Yoongi to have experienced everything he had gone through alone.

“You would have the same freedom Yoongi does,” you told them. Immediately, Hobi perked up and Namjoon’s eyes narrowed. You could tell that they were waiting for some sort of catch. You didn’t blame them. Yoongi had been expecting a catch at first, too.

“You can stay here for as long as you’d like. You can leave whenever you want. I won’t stop you. I’m not here to collect hybrids. If I can help you, I’m more than happy to, but if it comes to where you’re unhappy or you think you’d be better suited somewhere else, I’ll do whatever I can to help you get to where you need to go.”

Namjoon hummed and glanced over at Hoseok. For a moment, they had a silent conversation. You could see Hoseok raise his eyebrows at one point before narrowing his eyes in question.

“Where would we stay?” Hoseok asked softly.

“I uh…” Yoongi scratched behind his human ear with his index finger. “This is my room, but I don’t sleep here. You can continue to use it if you want.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened at that. “Where will you sleep, hyung? The couch can’t be that comfortable.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi responded almost immediately, a light blush spreading across his cheeks.

“What’s in the fine print?” Namjoon asked, his deep voice curious, but defensive. “What’s the end goal?”

You shrugged, glancing to Yoongi. Copper eyes searched yours briefly. “Emancipation,” Yoongi said finally, his eyes never leaving yours. “Get out from under Seungri’s control.”

Namjoon nodded, deep brown eyes falling on you. “And you? What’s your goal?”

You thought about it for a moment. What did you want out of this? Really, you were the one that stood to lose the most. Two more mouths to feed. Two more people to provide for. Less space in your apartment. The risk of your rent going up again the more roommates you took in.

“I’m tired of seeing him hurting,” you said finally, your gaze darting from Namjoon to Yoongi and back. “I’ve seen the damage Seungri leaves in his wake. I don’t want him to keep doing this. He can’t keep doing this.”

Hoseok and Namjoon were silent for a moment, both staring at different places around the room. Namjoon’s gaze was on you—intense, wary, but slightly hopeful as he sized you up and gauged your intentions. Hoseok observed Yoongi, the focus of his vertically pupiled eyes being the elder hybrid’s posture. Yoongi stood just in front of you, uncomfortable in the situation but not in the home, not with you. Hoseok watched Yoongi’s ears turn when you shifted, keeping tabs on you even when you were out of his sight.

“Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok’s voice was soft, but it held a certain command to it. Namjoon might be the leader of their little pack, but that didn’t mean Hoseok had no sway.

He squeezed the wolf’s hand and leaned forward to whisper something in one of Namjoon’s ears. You couldn’t make out what the viper hybrid said, but based on the way Yoongi shifted his weight, you had a feeling he could hear it perfectly. Namjoon turned slightly to look Hoseok fully in the face, their eyes locking before the wolf leaned in and touched his forehead to Hoseok’s.

“We can leave when we want?” Namjoon questioned, turning to look at you again.

“Whenever you want.”

He nodded, chewing on his lip. You could see one long canine tooth barely peeking out. “Okay,” he said finally, and for a moment, you were concerned that Yoongi was going to fall over from relief.

“Okay,” you confirmed, returning the small smile starting to spread across Namjoon’s face.

“Okay,” Yoongi repeated, taking a slight step back, his hand finding yours and giving it a small squeeze. You returned the pressure, your thumb running gently across the back of his hand.

Hoseok clapped and laughed, a wide, heart-shaped, sunny smile lighting up his features. “Okay!”

You sat on the couch in your pajamas, a random TV movie playing in the background. Yoongi sat beside you, an arm wrapped around your shoulders, his hand in the bowl of popcorn that sat barely balanced between you. It was dark out, almost 11 o’clock at night. Despite both Namjoon and Hoseok being nocturnal hybrids, they were doing their best to go to bed early in an attempt to get accustomed to being awake during the day.

Yoongi shifted, his tail slowly meandering its way around your body, settling once it was wrapped around your waist. The end of it curled and uncurled lazily, tickling at your elbow. You playfully pressed your arm closer to your body, capturing it and preventing it from moving.

“That’s not nice,” Yoongi pouted, his lower lip jutting out ever so slightly.

You took a handful of popcorn, putting a couple kernels into your mouth. “You should teach that thing some manners.”

“Can’t. I’ve tried.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the bad one of the bunch.”

“Yoongi,” you scolded gently, frowning ever so slightly. You hated when he parroted Seungri’s words back at you. They weren’t true, but you worried that he believed it still.

Suddenly, he was very invested in the movie, despite the fact that not even five minutes ago, he had wanted you to change the channel. You spoke his name again, softer this time. It took a second, but he eventually turned his head, wide, copper eyes meeting yours.

You reached out, your fingertips brushing his hair out of his eyes before your hand settled against his cheek. Your thumb brushed against the soft skin. You had always loved how soft and round his cheeks were, even though he was naturally on the underweight side.

“You aren’t bad,” you told him firmly, holding his gaze. You could tell he was trying to resist leaning into your hand. “You can’t be. You’re the best boy.”

His ears drooped. “You’ve said that before.”

“I meant it before. And I mean it now. You are not bad, Min Yoongi.”

His eyes darted around your face, searching for any hint that you were lying. Slowly, his ears returned to their natural position. He must have found what he was looking for, because after a moment, his eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into your touch.

The way Yoongi said your name—all soft and reverent and bashful—sounded almost like a prayer as it fell from his lips. His eyes were still closed, but you could feel his jaw shift as he swallowed. He seemed nervous all of a sudden.

“I love you.” If you hadn’t been sitting so close, with your hand cupping his cheek, you weren’t sure you would have heard him.

“I know, kitty. I love you, too.”

He opened his eyes then, a light pink starting to crawl up his neck and across his cheeks. “I’m sor-” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m sorry we haven’t done anything about that.”

“That’s okay.” You offered him a gentle smile. “I understand.”

“You shouldn’t have to understand, though. I should be able to have a stupid conversation about this without my fucking broken brain getting in the way.”

It seemed like he wanted to say more, but you could tell he had gotten himself worked up. You frowned slightly, reaching up and brushing his hair off his forehead again. You repeated the action, again and again, gently pushing his hair back and off his face. You could feel him taking a deep, calming breath in an attempt to ground himself.

After a moment of you playing with his hair, he was calm enough to continue. “I should be able to tell you how I feel without wanting to vomit,” he said softly.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily your brain,” you told him, running your hand through his hair one last time before letting your hand fall to your lap. “I think that’s the cat in you. Or, y’know, the love.”

Yoongi chuckled slightly at that, but you could tell he didn’t believe you. It had gotten better over the last few years, but you could tell that there were days where his confidence in himself was running low, where he could still hear Seungri’s voice in his head telling him lies and putting him down. The therapy had helped in that first year. You were proud of how much he had grown, and how much he had learned. But it seemed like every time the two of you had a run-in with Seungri, Yoongi fell back into old habits for a time.

“I’m okay with not talking about it.”

It was a lie, and you were pretty sure you both knew it. But you didn’t want Yoongi to feel guilty. You tried hard to be understanding with him. You tried to approach things with kindness in mind, even when something was bothering you. So you didn’t want to push, and you didn’t want to force him into anything.

But it would be nice to call him something other than just your ‘friend’ or your ‘roommate.’ And it would be nice to not feel guilty for kissing him in your kitchen two years ago.

“I’m just nervous,” Yoongi admitted softly, leaning over to sit the popcorn bowl on the other side of the couch.

Truthfully, you had forgotten about the movie.

“That’s okay, Yoongi. Honestly.” You reached over and squeezed his hand. “We don’t have to define it. We don’t have to call it anything or make anything official if you don’t want to.”

His eyes widened then, his tail starting to flick harshly against your arm. “I don’t… Is that what you think I want?”

“I don’t know what you want,” you said softly, prodding ever so gently. “You haven’t told me, and I didn’t press. I don’t want to be the one that hurts you, even unintentionally. So I try not to push too hard.”

For a moment, he was silent. But then, his ears flattened slightly before standing back up and his tail went from smacking into your arm to curling around it. “Maybe you should.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m an idiot--I have no idea what I’m doing,” he said softly, taking your hand. “I’ve never done anything like this before. But I know that you’re more than just my friend. I know that I want more, but I don’t know how to get there.” He sighed, playing with your fingers. His tail brushed nervously against your arm, his ears flat against his hair. He refused to look up at you. “And I don’t know if I’m ready for… everything. But maybe I could get there eventually? With some patience and some help, I mean. I’m yours if you want me.”

Your free hand found his hair again and he leaned into your touch, his fingers still playing with your own. “Of course I want you. You don’t even need to ask.”

“I didn’t want to assume.”

You weren’t sure when you both had started to lean in, but suddenly, you were very aware of his breath on your face, and of his lips only a few centimeters and from your own.

“Is this okay?” It came out softer than you had anticipated, but he hummed in response, copper eyes darting briefly down to your lips before he nodded, just once.

You tugged him closer, closing the distance between you in one gentle motion. His lips were chapped ever so slightly from picking at them when he was nervous, but they were plump, and they molded against yours perfectly. At first, Yoongi did nothing, both of his hands still clutching one of your own, and you were worried that maybe it was too much for him to handle.

But then, something changed in him, and he began to lean into it, tilting his head so that his nose wasn’t so painfully smashed against yours. One of his hands slowly slid up your arm, his fingertips ghosting against your skin, and came to rest at your elbow. His other hand found your waist, fingers splaying out against the curve of your hip.

You let him lead, allowing him to deepen the kiss first. His lips moved against yours slowly—almost lazily—but his grip on your arm and the way his hand pressed into the flesh of your hip hinted at how desperate he really was. A small purr started to stutter in his chest, and when he readjusted how he was sitting so that he could pull you closer, you could feel it rumbling in your chest, too.

A few seconds passed—or perhaps it was minutes, you couldn’t be sure—before he pulled away. His cheeks and the tips of his human ears were a bright shade of pink. He pressed his forehead against yours gently, his soft bangs tickling your brow. Copper eyes darted around your face, almost like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. His hand that gripped your elbow drifted up to rest against your neck, his thumb brushing against your jaw.

“Can I…” He paused as you pressed a quick peck to his lips, a small, blissful smile spreading across his face. “Can I scent you?”

“Of course.” You leaned in and kissed him quickly again before tilting your head ever so slightly so he wouldn’t have to twist weirdly.

Yoongi leaned in closer, his nose brushing against your neck. The feeling of his breath on your skin brought goosebumps. He noticed, and you could feel him smile softly against you as he rubbed his cheek just under your ear once. His tongue—slightly rough thanks to his cat genes—was warm and gentle against your pulse point. Briefly, you wondered if he could feel how your heart rate had sped up.

He lightly nipped at your skin with his teeth, and you could feel his long canines pressing into your flesh just slightly. It didn’t hurt, but the sensation sent a small shiver down your spine, and your grip on him tightened. He ran over where he had bitten with his tongue, the sandpaper texture both soothing and chill-inducing, and you felt yourself shiver again. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as he ran his tongue over the spot below your ear one final time before pressing a gentle kiss there.

He nuzzled in then, his nose pressed tightly against your skin. You felt him take a deep breath, his body melting into you. He hadn’t stopped purring. He was practically sitting on your lap, putty in your arms as he snuggled in.

“I love you,” he whispered, inhaling deeply before flattening himself against you.

You held him close, reaching up to scratch at the base of his ears. “I love you, too, kitty.”

Previous | Masterlist | Next

sAs always, your feedback is appreciated. Please feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or comments about the series!

Tag list: @softbbyg0rl, @eddievoid, @horanghae18, @rosquilleta, @madjanmil, @namecannotbblank, @http-himawari, @halesandy, @lostatthebarns, @cuteipat, @agustneeds, @overtherainbow35, @xjordynary, @seolaquotes, @huearmy, @staerryminimini, @chimchoomi @zae007live, @ghostkat23, @forvever-ddaeng, @blaaiissee, @childfmoonn, @junhaven, @justaweird0, @pro-in-stupidity, @kisskissshutmydoor, @borahae-reads, @effielumiere, @ohmydarlin-g, @alngelias, @elenaramos1, @kamen-tenshi, @narcissism-iskey

[nishayuro]

hey!!!your requests are open so i thought i could request headcannons for the brothers reacting to someone thats really touchy and affectionate,just some cute fluff lol🐙

Obey me! The brothers reacting to MC who is really touchy and affectionate.

A/N: Ahh~ Thank you so much for the first request~ This request was cute!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Lesson 16 spoiler in Belphegor’s part

Lucifer

At first this man was annoyed. I mean, c’mon a human getting all touchy-feely with him? Who do they think they are?

But after he got closer to you, he got softer and soon did accept the affection because man is tOUCHED STARVED.

Even if he says or acts like he hates it, don’t stop MC! He actually very much likes it.

He would then give MC small hugs or kisses from time to time in private.

Everyday he would anticipate for MC to come up to him in his private study, Sit on his lap and give him a hug, And man’s not complaining because when MC pulls away he tightens his grip on them. But he will never tell them this because Mr. Pridey McPride can’t show vulnerability.

When you do eventually date, He will be more affectionate, even in public (But not that much, man still has his reputation, can’t have lower demons thinking the 1st born became all soft all of a sudden).

All in all, Lucifer is thankful because not only do you give him the love and affection that he craves, but also because you're able to feel comfortable enough with him to do so.

“Ah, MC. Please meet me in my study after dinner tonight, I require your assistance. Diavolo has given me paperwork due tomorrow and I need your presence to help me get through it.”

Mammon

Tsundere boy is FLUSTERED confused.

But after he gets used to it, he begins to crave it.

Of course he won’t be direct with asking for affection, He is a tsundere.

But when you stop because you think he genuinely hates it, he goes into a panic.

He literally starts getting more clingy and gives you those puppy eyes more

When you started giving him your affection again, man was over the moon! He toned down on the tsundereness and started leaving out hints that he likes it.

When you get in a relationship with him, man will never let you out of his grasp.

You’re sleeping? C’mon we can cuddle. Walking somewhere? Hold my hand MC.

You both are probably competing for who is more touchy and affectionate, not that both of you mind...who am I kidding, you both practically encourage it!

Mammon’s just very happy someone is showing him love through actual acts of love and not with acts of insults and abuse.

“O-oi, MC! Whatcha think you’re doin’?! N-no wait I didn’t tell you to stop! Of course you’d wanna cling onto THE GREAT MAMMON! ‘cause I’m feelin’ generous, you can cling onto me anytime! And don’t go clingin’ around anyone else like this, yA’ HEAR ME?!” *Flustered Mammon noises*

Leviathan

Please hug him from behind while he plays games, man will freeze lmao.

Okay, The first time you gave Levi a hug, he almost fainted. So you tried your best to not catch him off guard because man literally has a heart attack every time you give him a surprise hug. But his flustered expression was just too cute~

You ofcourse started slowly, not wanting our otaku boi to be uncomfortable with the sudden skinships. When he didn’t flinch a lot just by a small touch, you were ecstatic! Finally we can cuddle our snek boi without him dying on us.

Every anime marathon, you both would be in his bedtub (It is surprisingly spacious and comfortable) wrapped up in thick blankets while cuddling each other.

When you both started dating, you started giving him more affection, especially when he goes into self-deprecating.

Please give him small kisses all over his face when that happens, tell him you love him for him and all those comforting words. Hold him pls.

Levi is surprisingly also very affectionate and clingy when he eventually realizes that ‘Hey, We’re dating. They’re mine, I can hug and kiss them all I want… Time to study romance manga to see how to make it less normie!’ He will cling onto you.

Please give this very touch-starved man affection :’)

“wha-WHAT?! H-hey what are y-you...oH MY DIAVOLO THIS IS LIKE THAT ONE SCENE IN ‘I’m a very touch-starved individual and my best friend—who I have a massive crush on Is very clingy and they love giving me affection but i’m shy and…’ oH.OH.OH. YOU’RE ACTUALLY HUGGING ME?! A yucky otaku?! B-but hey… this doesn’t feel that bad…”

Satan

You are very brave to be clinging onto the Avatar of Wrath, not everyone does and lives to tell the tale.

You remind him of Asmo from the amount of hugging.

When he does eventually open up to you, He begins to accept your affection more.

Sit on his lap while he is reading, Man will be soo happy. You remind him of a cat every time you do it.

He likes how you can keep his wrath in check with a simple hug or kiss, he definitely comes to you when he feels like he is going to burst, Please hold him.

When you two eventually get into a relationship, Expect more cuddling sessions while in the library or his room.

Satan is also very affectionate towards his partner, so also expect lots of surprise hugs and kisses when he spots you.

“Ah, Mc. Come here, want me to read to you? You can sit on my lap. Being near you calms me down a lot and makes even the worst books bearable to read.”

Asmodeus

Oh boi-

Okay, this man literally LOVES how affectionate you are.

Even more when you start dating.

You both will literally be clinging onto each other 25/8.

Walking down the street? Holding hands. Eating? You are feeding each other. Sleeping? Which of your limbs are even yours anymore.

He basks in your attention, he loves taking pictures of you guys and posting it on Devilgram.

Everyone thinks y’all are cute af btw

He will love for you to do each other’s makeup because you get a reason to be close with each other.

Loves fashion shows and always has his hands on you while complimenting you, of course you do the same and he just loves it soo much.

“Ohhh~ MC, sweetie~ come here, I have new outfits I want us to try out! We could have a fashion show~”

Beelzebub

Okay, he is a big teddy bear, I would also love to cling on him-

He loves your hugs, and he loves to hug you back.

You always share your food with him, which just makes him love you more.

You both are adorable istg-

You’re often seen either clinging on to him or him carrying you around so much that no one questions it anymore.

You feed him and he feeds you.

When you’re sleeping, He loves either having you laying on him or spooning you.

“Hey, MC? There’s this newly opened restaurant in town, wanna come with me? My treat!”

Belphegor

Hello murder boi-

Okay, he at first doesn’t understand why you’re touchy and affectionate with him.

Like, Hello? Man literally strangled you to death- (Tbf we had that coming for trusting a locked up demon.)

But when you assure him that yes, you’ve forgiven him, yes, you wanna nap with him, he just goes “oh..okay, c’mere”

When you start dating, he accepts your affection more, and gives back, and yearns your touch… you get the point.

You love napping with him, and he loves cuddling with you, doesn’t matter if he’s little spoon or big spoon.

“Hmmm… ‘m still tired… come back, MC. I wanna cuddle you more.”

masterlist

navigation

[xhaotixaesthetica]

Yandere!Ateez Reaction to You Being Pregnant

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator

You are in: The Asteroid Belt

READ THE TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains MENTIONS OF ABUSE, CHILD NEGLECT, SUICIDAL BEHAVIORS, ABORTION, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP DYNAMICS, AND UNHEALTHY FAMILIES. The behaviors and relationships depicted below are abusive and unhealthy. These are not examples of healthy relationships, it’s actually the opposite. This is meant to imagine the members of Ateez in a popular anime trope and it in no way represents their real-life personalities and characters. Real-life ATEEZ are actually known for being some of the kindest, most respectful idols in the industry. It’s fiction, it’s for fun, PLEASE DON’T READ IT IF YOU KNOW YOU WON’T LIKE IT OR THIS KIND OF STUFF DISTURBS YOU!

A/N: I'm warning y'all, most of these don't end with y'all having a baby and becoming a big happy family.Also, I didn't proofread, sorry.

Word Count: 4.2K+

Hongjoong

The Perfect Boyfriend

This might just be what you need to turn Hongjoong around. Yandere!Hongjoong is incredibly concerned with appearances and how other people perceive him. And while having kids won’t be high on his priority list, he will very much so enjoy the social status that being a married family man will bring him. Hongjoong is also incredibly self-absorbed, almost to the point of having a god complex. He will see this child as an extension of himself, a being that is better than everyone else, superior in every way, and deserving of special treatment. To some extent, his views of the child will also rub off on his view of you.

After all, you are the one carrying said god-child, which, in his mind, means that you must be god-like as well. He will treat you more tenderly and he would be too wary of harming the baby to dole out almost any punishments to you at all. He wouldn't even want to do anything that would stress you out in fear of the stress complicating the pregnancy.

Hongjoong would be very on top of your doctor's appointments and prenatal vitamins, go with you to all of the Lamaze classes, hire top contractors to construct an accident-proof nursery, read every parenting and infant-care book he could get his hands on, and force you and himself to practice swaddling, changing diapers, and the proper ways to give infants CPR.

Yandere!Hongjoong doesn't tolerate imperfection and he especially wouldn't tolerate it when it came to his child.

It's important to mention that, in the beginning, a lot of these seemingly heart-warming and overprotective paternal instincts don't come from a genuine place of love for you or the child, but rather an intense desire to be seen as a good father to those around you. He finds it quite easy to manipulate others and the situation when it's just you and him, but when you through a baby and fatherhood into the mix, there are too many ways that the cracks could start showing about you and his abusive relationship.

I think Hongjoong would take a step back when the baby would be about two months old. In the beginning, he would be very hands-on, but Hongjoong is used to getting his way and being listed to, not to catering to the whims of something that, in his mind, can't even give him anything in return.

There would probably be a period of about eighteen months where he would grow to resent both you and the child, doing all of his parental duties but in a very cold and distant way. However, somewhere around the two to three year mark, he would develop a paternal love for the child and a renewed sense of appreciation toward you for bringing them into the world.

I think, in an effort to rear a well-adjusted human being, his punishments would dial back a lot more. He would still be jealous, possessive, and controlling, but more in subtle ways that he thinks will do less harm to the child's psyche.

"This child will be perfect, simply because it's mine. And if you're carrying it, that must mean you're perfect too."

Seonghwa

The Ice King

Seonghwa will put on a brave face, but rest assured, he's going through the five stages of grief all at once.

He isn't really opposed to the idea of having a child, not if it's with you, but he has never really planned on or even thought about ever becoming a father.

He has no idea what to do or how to approach the situation and he's panicking about a variety of outcomes, most notably the idea that he won't feel anything for the child or won't be able to connect with them emotionally.

No matter how hard he tried to conceal it, it would be easy to see his mask slipping, and it would be a good idea for you to take the reigns on this one.

It would calm Seonghwa to see that at least someone has an idea of what should be going on and he would race to follow your orders, wanting to do whatever he could for the comfort of you and the baby.

Seonghwa would actually be surprisingly opposed to hiring any nannies or nurses for the child, at least during it's first two years of development. He wants as many opportunities to emotionally connect with the child as possible, and he even begins talking to the child while it's in your womb, singing it songs, and just trying to do anything he can to ensure there's a higher chance of him feeling something for the child when it finally comes out.

It would be quite surprising to see him start to take initiative like this and I think if the Stockholm Syndrome hadn't set in before, it definitely would now and you would find yourself wanting to be around Seonghwa more to be doted on and helped through such a difficult time.

This would definitely encourage Seonghwa to keep up this doting behavior and would predispose him to like the child more since he would see it as something that must be good since it was bringing the two of you together.

"I never thought of myself as a family man, but this baby is bringing out the love I always knew we were meant to have and that makes me adore it more."

Yunho

The Damsel in Distress Next Door

Having Yandere!Yunho's baby really isn't a good idea. His mental state is fragile enough and with how taxing it is to be his significant other, the last thing you would need was someone else to look after.

Yunho is a yandere that tends to let you take the lead more, even though he can be very helpful at times since he loves to feel needed. Still, Yunho gets very jealous whenever you give even a fraction of your attention to other people. While you know he would never take it out on you or the child, the lack of attention he would receive due to the child's arrival would undoubtedly cause an uptick in his self-destructive behavior and self-hatred.

There's no telling how much he would harm himself and how much of it the child would have to bear witness to. The last thing you wanted was to bring a child into the world and traumatize them with what was probably the world's worst relationship dynamic. Not to mention the fact that you would be so tired all the time from constantly having to be on guard to make sure Yunho didn't kill himself that you wouldn't have any energy left for a child and would probably grow to resent it real quick.

All these things considered, I think you would come to the conclusion that the best option would be to abort it.

Because of your efforts to keep the whole situation a secret, Yunho would only find out when he woke up to find you gone and started snooping through your things where he ended up finding some documentation about the abortion.

Yunho would feel terrible, all too aware that his needy and erratic behavior was the exact reason you wouldn't want to have a child with him and were putting yourself through this.

And the worst part was that he couldn't even lie to himself and say that he would make a good father. He knew how he was and he knew as well as you did that a child would only amplify his behavior ten times more.

And he couldn't help the rage that filled him, white-hot hatred for the person that stared back in the mirror filling his veins until his fist lashed out, shattering the mirror with seemingly a mind of their own..

His own child didn't even get the chance to live because of how inadequate its father was and he would never forgive himself for that.

"I don't care what it takes, I will do whatever I can to be better for you. You'll never have to go through this again."

Yeosang

The Secret Serial Killer

If you thought Yandere!Yeosang was manipulative before, trust and believe, you ain't seen shit yet.

Yeosang being the seemingly perfect boyfriend he was, you thought he would be over the moon when you gave him the news and you weren't disappointed at the wide smile that spread across his face as he kissed you passionately, screaming to all the world that he was having a baby with you!

But it's all an act.

In actuality, Yeosang is furious.

He didn't want a child yet. He enjoyed his life just the way it was. Having a child would mean having to share you, having less control over your movements, having to stop killing, and being at risk of being caught if he ever had to eliminate one of your friends or family.

Yeosang saw absolutely no positives to having a child and he thought it would be nothing more than a nuisance to have one at the moment. Yeosang definitely wants them in the future, maybe in another five or ten years, but he absolutely closed to the possibility of having one with you in the immediate present.

But Yeosang is crafty and has contingency plans for everything. He knew there was a small chance this would happen, and he was prepared.

Yeosang would honestly deserve an Oscar for the performance he put on for the next nine months if weren't so fucked up.

Yeosang knew that you weren't stupid enough to be pressured into getting rid of the fetus without it harming your relationship, so his ultimate goal was to manipulate you into giving it up for adoption where you both would never have to see it again.

Throughout the whole pregnancy, he plays the part of the devoted partner, ecstatic to be a new father and devastated by the events that play out.

He pretends to be having trouble getting work, that the boss is cutting down their hours due to downsizing in the company. You guys have to start budgeting stricter and you're in your final year of school so you can't work and you certainly can't get a job while balancing a full-time university education and a pregnancy.

Yeosang pretends to get fired, stages all these credit card declines at stores you go to, fakes all these overdue mortgage bills, and makes this big show to look like he's breaking his back to make ends meet and giving you his last bites of food so you and the baby don't starve.

In reality, Yeosang has merely gone on a diet to make the whole thing look more believable and he has moved to doing his work online while you're at school. Fat stacks of cash are piling up, unspent, in his bank account and it's only Seonghwa pulling strings at the bank to keep them from foreclosing your home on overdue mortgage payments that Yeosang is fully intending to pay back with interest a few months after this whole ordeal is over. He has moved all of his money to a secret account at another bank for the time being while his regular account is empty when he needs those public credit card declines for dramatic effect.

Crime starts picking up in the area as Yeosang releases his stress on the innocent populace and you're stressed and terrified constantly, especially when a break-in happens close to when you're due to give birth.

Yeosang even goes so far as to get Mingi to help him stage a car wreck and break his shoulder so that medical bills start piling up and Yeosangs "job search" gets put on hold due to his poor health.

In the end, Yeosang is pleasantly surprised when you're the first one to suggest giving the baby up for adoption.

Through Seonghwa (whom you're unaware of so far), it isn't hard to find an uptight rich women willing to give you both an extravagant amount of money in exchange for the baby as long as you all agree to sign a legal document detailing that you will never have contact with her or the child ever again after it's in her custody.

Yeosang puts up a fight about the lack of contact at first, just like he objected vehemently to the idea of adoption before finally giving in. It was all a show and he played the part of the distraught, reluctant biological father all too well.

You trusted him, never doubting him for a second.

The woman is persistent, as Seonghwa told her to be, and it's only when the staged notice of foreclosure that Seonghwa set up comes in the mail that Yeosang finally agrees to the adoption. He's sobbing ad apologizing to you, his words barely audible through his blubbering and you're crying too, reaching over your pregnant belly to hug him and assure him that he's tried his best, that none of this is his fault, that he's the best partner you could have asked for and that you guys are going to get through this together.

And Yeosang knows he has you right where he wants you.

Yeosang uses the rich woman's money to pay off the overdue mortgages, working with Seonghwa to fix the damage this whole charade has done to his credit score, all while dutifully playing the part of the mourning father.

He's convincing, listless and depressed, then angry, then pretending that he regrets the decision and that he's trying to search for the woman to get the child back only for the search to end up fruitless. Then he grieves and he's angry again, the two of you only finding comfort in each other since none of your friends could possibly understand what you're going through.

Yeosang has loved this whole process. Your already high opinion of him has been increased a million times over and the whole ordeal has brought you closer than ever. And, unnoticed by you, you're more dependent on him than you ever have been. No to mention this whole experience has shown him just how far he can go to have you under his control.

Before long, Yeosang gets another job just for things to look believable. His resume is good enough to get a high ranking job with good benefits on his own, but he does need Seonghwa's help to bring the company he was previously working at to its knees.

As a murderer, he believes in covering his tracks and he can't have you ever stumbling into his previous workplace and ruining your relationship over something so silly as what he deems a necessity to keep you guy's current lifestyle.

Seeing the headlines about his previous place of employment closing and going bankrupt only makes the story that much more airtight, and the final loose end is tied when Seonghwa arranges for the adoptive mother of your child to die so that the baby is shuffled to another rich person that you and even Yeosang have never seen or heard of, where it can grow up safe and sound without any chance of you both ever finding it again. This was the final straw in Yeosng's plan just in case you ever got any bright ideas about wanting to find you guys baby again. You could both search and search and you would never find it, just the way Yeosang wanted.

Eventually, Yeosang makes the suggestion that you both start going to therapy to work through your grief and it works.

Yeosang uses his stored money and lavish new salary to spoil you even worse than before, in his mind, an apology for everything he'd put you through during the pregnancy. Though he didn't particularly care about the child, he didn't like hurting or stressing you out, especially when you're body and health were in such a fragile state. As far as he was concerned, you would be treated like a queen for the rest of your life for the sacrifice you made for you and his relationship.

"I'm so sorry, angel. I know this is my fault, but rest assured, I'll never let this happen again. We're going to live the best life possible from now on."

San

The Jekyll and Hyde

The absolute worst yandere on this list to have a baby with and I think you would be smart enough to realize that the second that you got pregnant.

Having a baby with San would be the final level to his entrapment, one you would hope to never reach, for both you and the child's sake.

San would be all for having a baby with you, though never for the right reasons. The more sweet, "normal" side of him only likes the idea of having a baby with you because he likes the fantasy it presents. He only wants the sweet I love You's and the baby's first words and the birthday parties, and the cute infant onesies, and he's not at all willing to go through the sleepless nights, diaper changes, teenage stages, and midnight feedings that it takes to get there.

The more possessive, sadistic side of him, "Other" San, can't help seeing the baby as something of a science experiment. He would enjoy something to hold over your head, the ultimate tool to control you and keep you in your place, while having the added benefits of using the child as another living plaything. This could be from things as relatively harmless as dressing the child up in silly costumes or something like him purposefully upsetting the child and making them cry and leaving you to deal with it just because he's had a bad day and he thinks it's funny.

It would also be a massive problem because almost every time San is experience intense or prolonged negative emotions, it triggers his massive mood swing into "Other" San. With all the crying that newborns do and negative emotions that first-born parents experience, San would be way more of a danger than a help around the baby, especially in the first few years of its life, when the child is illogical and unreasonable.

San stalks sometimes, but that's not wholly his M.O, so it wouldn't particularly be that hard to find a way to go to a clinic and take care of the problem before it got out of hand.

But again, San's mood swing is triggered by negative emotion and regular San would be devastated and horrified if he ever found out that you aborted his baby.

It wouldn't be his worst tantrum to date, but it definitely wouldn't be something for the faint of heart.

"You think you can keep secrets from me? You think you can deny me what's mine?! Oh, it seems like you've forgotten who I am, sweetheart. Maybe you need a little reminder <3."

Mingi

The Clingy Bad Boy

Mingi's and Wooyoung's are probably going to be pretty short, but for completely different reasons.

In Mingi's case, I honestly don't think that much would change.

Mingi doesn't really care about stuff like this, and the whole situation would really be your prerogative.

If you wanted to keep the baby, he's be all for it simply because you want it and he, surprisingly, doesn't really mind kids that much and they don't really activate his anger issues.

Surprisingly, his major fear is that the baby would end up turning out like him, so when he's around the kid, he takes special care to be particularly gentle and quiet so there's a lesser chance of them inheriting his anger issues.

He would raise the kids relatively normally, and he probably wouldn't be punishing you that much since you would most likely be on your best behavior so as to not agitate him around the child.

If you wanted an abortion or to give the baby up for adoption, he would still be cool. He would see it as continuing to have more time where he didn't have to share you and, in regards to pregnancy, he didn't really care what you did with your body.

Not to mention, he does at least have some sort of self-awareness, so he would completely understand not wanting to take a chance on having a child with him as a father. If abortion or adoption was what it took for you to continue to be with him without problems, then he was more than cool with it.

He comes with you everywhere, so obviously he would be there for moral support, and he would be pretty decent at aftercare, and you both would eventually go on about your lives and move past the situation.

"It's up to you, doll. You're all I want, all I need. As long as I have you, it doesn't matter to me what else happens."

Wooyoung

The Incubus

In Wooyoung's case, this is going to be short because this would never happen.

Wooyoung sees no value in children whatsoever. He doesn't want any, and he's not willing to deal with the consequences that come with letting you have one.

For one, it's highly unlikely you would survive the birth of a demon,human hybrid baby, and Wooyoung isn't willing to risk your life for a child that he sees as nothing more than a nuisance.

Secondly, human bodies are already fragile enough when they're not pregnant with monstrous hybrid babies, and Wooyoung wouldn't be willing to not sleep with you for nine months and he couldn't deal with the fact that if he did, he would most likely do irreparable damage to your body.

Lastly, it would be all to easy to get rid of the baby, no pain, no fuss. Just one sip of a demon tonic and fetus deletus with no side effects.

Having children wouldn't even be a concern with you two.

"A baby? Darling, don't make me laugh. I like seeing you in pain but only because of me. Come here, I'll get rid of it~"

Jongho

The Overprotective Guard Dog

Over the moon, no matter what. For Jongho, the most important thing in his life is your happiness. Whatever will make you happy is going to make him ecstatic.

If you decide to get rid of it, he'll be over the moon because oh my god, crisis averted and now Y/N has control of their body and they're happy again!

If you decide to keep it, he'll be even more over the moon because oh my god, Y/N loves me and wants to have a baby with me and they think I'd be a good father and we're going to have a family and — yeah, you get the picture.

Jongho would quite literally be the perfect father, doing everything Hongjoong does but for the actual right reasons. Unlike most of the yandere's here, he would automatically love your child, not just because it's a bargaining chip or because he's idealizing fatherhood, he would actually just love the child in it's own right and genuinely want the best life for it.

He would work overtime to provide the best nutrition and comfort for you, read every pregnancy book, watch every parenthood YouTuber, research pediatricians in advance, build a top of the line crib and nursery, already start the child's college fund, and take the best care of you he possibly could. He'd change every diaper, do every midnight feeding, rub cream on your stomach, give you the best post-natal care, know exactly what day the baby was due for checkups and vaccinations, he'd even cook dinner and clean the house.

As far as Jongho was concerned, you were already a god/dess in his eyes, but now that you've gone a step further and given him the gift of a child, trusted him with protecting and caring for you and that child, you've fulfilled every possible duty and you've got it from there.

Of course, if you decide to have the child, you will most likely also be participating in its upbringing and the household and it would only make him love you more. Jongho would be completely devoted to you and your baby and absolutely no harm would come to you guys if there was breath in his body.

You would undoubtedly be the envy of all the PTA moms, with such a doting husband and father at your beck and call and your child would undoubtedly love Jongho in a way that none of the other yandere's children would.

Jongho and his child would have the most natural and paternal relationship by far, and since Jongho is as devoted to you as he is your child, he would be the champion of giving the child space when they wanted it since, to him, that would just mean more time to tend to you.

The only concern you would have with father!Jongho is the fact that you might have stop him from getting a little murderous when it comes to anyone that bothers his kid.

"We're having a baby? You think I'm worthy enough to be a father to a baby that comes from you?! Oh my love you won't regret this! I promise, I'll be the best I can be for you both!"

The Asteroid Belt

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: three ( 2.9k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

You did what any sane person would do upon finding one of the world’s deadliest predators making itself at home in their living room: you made unbroken eye contact with it for a solid five seconds before backing out of the penthouse and quietly closing the door. You stand in the hallway, staring at your hand still wrapped around the handle, unable to move. “No,” you mutter softly. “That can’t be right...” You punch the code in again and peak your head inside. The tiger is still there, staring straight at you. It makes a noise and you slam the door shut. You weren’t hallucinating, you weren’t dreaming. There was definitely a tiger on your couch. “What the fuuuuuck… ” You mutter, pulling your phone from your jacket pocket and punching in Mr. Seo’s number as fast as your thumbs will let you. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-”

The phone rings once, three times, seven. There’s no answer. You groan and try not to think of this as the universe punishing you for being late. You hang up and send him a text instead, imploring him to call you back as soon as possible.

You press your back flat against the door and slide down it, sitting with your legs splayed out in front of you. There was a tiger in the penthouse. There was a tiger in the penthouse. You drag your hands down your face, replaying all your conversations with Mr. Seo and all the documents you’d read. There’d been nothing about pets in the asset manifest. You knew; you’d checked three times. You weren’t confident in your ability to take care of all of Oliver’s companies much less another living thing. You didn’t even really want to take care of the hybrids, but you’d appeased yourself with the knowledge that it was only temporary. So why there was a tiger in your living room you couldn’t say...Unless-

Your eyes widen. All the purchase order had said was three felines. It’d been you that’d made the assumption they’d be house cats. Not to mention, Mr. Park said the hybrids had been delivered already which meant the big cat sunning itself on the couch was-

Before you can draw the thought to its logical conclusion, the door swings open. You tilt backward, world going askew, but before your head can crack against the marble tile there’s a flurry of movement and someone’s holding it in soft hands.

You see azure eyes, soft lips, a crop of honey blonde hair. You blink up at the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. His mouth melts into a close-lipped smile. “Hello,” His voice is soft and airy, almost musical. “You must be our new owner.”

You wince at the word owner. “Uh, I’m Y/N, yeah.”

He hums in acknowledgement then asks, “Would you like to stand up? The floor must be uncomfortable.”

“Oh!” You’d been so busy staring into his eyes that you’d forgotten he was crouched on the ground, holding your head in his hands. “Yeah, I would. Thanks for catching me.”

He gives you another smile. “Of course,” He purrs.

The man offers you a hand and helps you to your feet. Even when you’re standing, he doesn’t release it. You try to tug your own away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but he holds you fast and laces your fingers together. You balk down at your conjoined hands and shoot him a look of concern, but if the prospect of holding hands with a virtual stranger bothers him, you certainly can’t tell from the serene expression on his face.

Now that you’re standing and you get a better look at him, you can tell that he’s really -almost disconcertingly- good looking. His hair is well groomed and, if the golden spotted ears poking out from it are any indication, naturally blonde. He’s dressed simply, in a loose-fitting cream sweatshirt and matching pants. The logo of breeding company he’d come from was embroidered neatly on the upper left side of it, just above his heart. He’s taller than you, but not overly so. You’re at eye-level with the elegant column of his throat. He’s slender, from what you could tell, and he smells nice, like soap and fresh linen. He notices you ogling him and tilts his head to the side, catching your gaze again.

“Is this your first time meeting a hybrid?” He’s still smiling at you calmly and you feel at ease despite the nervous heat you can feel creeping into your cheeks.

You offer him a wincing smile in return. “Is it that obvious?” Despite them being relatively common,  you’d only seen them from a distance or when they were standing silent beside their owners while they made a purchase. You’d never had an actual conversation with one. You feel something twine around your calf and you jump, startled. There, wrapped around your leg, was a long, fluffy tail, just as golden and spotted as his ear. Well that , certainly wasn’t a house cat’s tail.

The man laughs at your reaction and it sounds like bells. “It’s okay,” he assures you, tugging you out of the doorway and into the apartment. “I don’t mind the staring.”

You feel a little relieved knowing you hadn’t offended him. Your temporary relaxation evaporates when you catch sight of the tiger again over the hybrid’s right shoulder. In the haze of meeting this one, you’d completely forgotten the one stretched out over the couch. The spotted hybrid notices your gaze shift and squeezes your hand lightly.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes, tail tip twitching against your calf. That was right, you’d heard they could smell chemicals that signaled major shifts in emotion. “That’s Taehyung. He was born wild, so that body is a little more comfortable for him. There’s still a person in there, so you don’t need to worry, okay?”You nod mutely, only moderately comforted by the spotted hybrid’s reassurance. “-And I’m Jimin.”

Jimin. Taehyung. You repeat the names to yourself over and over again in your head.

“-And Yoongi-hyung is around here somewhere.” That was right; there were supposed to be three of them. “He’s probably sleeping; he doesn’t like to be awake during the day time. If you find a bobcat in a closet don’t be surprised, okay?”

You swallow dryly. “No promises.”

The man- Jimin, you remind yourself. His name was Jimin - let out another soft laugh and steps back, untangling his tail from you to turn and face the tiger. “Tae,” he calls. “Come say hello to Y/N.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and you hold your free hand up. “No!” You say, alarmed, as the tiger rises and stretches. It lets a long, barbed tongue loll out of its mouth as it yawns and you feel your blood go cold at the sight of three-inch long incisors. “I-It’s okay; he doesn’t have to get up if he doesn’t want to!” But the tiger has already hopped down from the couch and is sidling toward you. You make a noise of distress and try to tug away from Jimin, but he’s stronger than he looks. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. It doesn’t help.

Taehyung stalks closer and closer until he’s right in front of you. You stand as still as you can manage, trying not to do anything that might set the predator off. Hybrid or not, he could still take a chunk out of you if the mood struck him.

Far away he was big, but up close he’s massive. On all fours, his shaggy head reaches your waist. If you bent forward to wrap your arms around his neck, you’re not sure if they’d even reach all the way. His paws are the width of dinner plates and from nose tip to tail, he has to be at least ten feet long. There’s no doubt that he’s a beautiful animal. Beautiful and terrifying.

For a moment the three of you stand there: Jimin holding your hand, you staring at the tiger and the tiger staring back. Suddenly he leans forward and presses his nose to your stomach, letting out a rumble that makes your whole body vibrate. Your eyes snap toward Jimin, wide. The other hybrid seems completely at ease. If anything, his smile’s gotten even wider.

“He wants you to pet him,” he says by means of explanation.

“Is that okay?” Before Jimin can give you answer, Taehyung presses his muzzle even further into your stomach and huffs. His breath is so warm you can feel it even through your jacket. You let out a puff of air. “Alright…”

You move slowly so you don’t startle him. You set a trembling hand atop the tiger’s head and gently run your fingers through his fur. It’s wirier than you thought it’d be, the hairs coarse against your skin. The tiger lets out another rumble, louder this time and much longer. You snatch your hand back for a moment, startled, and worried he was upset- but he sat back on his haunches, reached out with one massive paw and pressed your hand back against his head.

You let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Emboldened by his apparent approval, you risk scratching behind his ears. The big cat practically melts. If he could purr, you think he would. A hesitant smile creeps on to your lips. “You’re not so bad, huh?” He tilts his head forward to give you better access to his ears.

You feel Jimin’s tail curl around your ankle again, the hybrid apparently pleased to see you getting along so well with his friend. “None of us are,” he hums, taking advantage of your distracted state to brush your conjoined hands against his cheek. ���Not when you get to know us.”

“What the hell are you two doing?” A gruff voice at the top of the glass staircase catches your attention. There on the landing is a man in a black sweatsuit identical to Jimin’s. His ash gray hair is a mess, mashed up on one side from sleep and his eyes are squinted against the light seeping in from the oversized windows. A pair of large, tufted ears are turned backward on top of his head and a short tail flicks behind him in irritation. The two other hybrids disentangle themselves from you immediately. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up when the owner got here?”

There’s that word again: owner. You hate how final sounds. In the eyes of the law they may have been your property, but they were still people. You didn’t want them to think of themselves as something you possessed, however brief their stay with you would be.

The black-clad man slumps down the stairs, clearly displeased with the scene before him. Taehyung lowers his head between his shoulders and slinks back to his position on the couch, but Jimin stays by your side, slightly behind your shoulder. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to use you as a shield from his hyung.

Yoongi stops in front of the kitchen, tugs out a bar stool and drops his weight into it. He’s still a good twenty feet away, but Jimin doesn’t look appeased. “You were sleeping, Hyung…” he purrs. “I didn’t want to disturb you-”

“Bullshit,” the bobcat huffs . “You two just wanted to scent like a bunch of cubs and you knew I’d stop you.”

Jimin’s bottom lip pokes out into a pout but he doesn’t deny the accusation.

“...Is scenting bad?”

Yoongi cuts his eyes at you and his stare is so icy, you get the feeling you shouldn’t have spoken at all. His tail lashes behind him.

“It’s not bad,” Jimin soothes, his hand finding your lower back. He rubs circles into it, trying to relax you. “It’s just-”

“It’s rude.” Yoongi cuts him off. “And they know better.”

Jimin wilts and slowly retracts his hand.

Yoongi rakes a hand back through his hair and you catch your first good look at his face. It’s small, his features soft but well articulated. He’s boyishly handsome- or would be if he wasn't fixing you and his junior with a look that could freeze hell over. “Jimin, Taehyung, go upstairs.”

The spotted hybrid behind doesn’t argue, just lets his tail and ears droop as he slumps toward the staircase, the tiger on his heels.”

It’s only once they’ve disappeared around a corner and a door shuts that Yoongi speaks again.”What do you want us for?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Why do you think I want you for something?”

“This isn’t our first time doing this,” he drawls. “You people think just because you can have something, you should . So, you go out and buy exotic hybrids that you can walk around on a gold leash to show off to all of your friends. Or you take us off suppressants so you can take advantage of us. Or you treat us like dolls. You don’t think we’re real. We’re just toys to you, and if you break us? Well, that’s okay because you can always buy another.”

Your mouth feels dry. Was that what his life had been like up until this point? A revolving door of people who only saw him as temporary entertainment and gave him back when he turned out to be more trouble than they thought he was worth? You knew that feeling; were more familiar with it than you’d care to admit or remember. “I’m not like that,” You insist, softly.

“I don’t know what you’re like,” Yoongi scoffs. “And if you’re just gonna send us back in a month, I don’t really care to find out.” An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, his gray gaze still focused to a sharp point in you. “Jimin, Taehyung, they’re young. They still have hope. You’re only Tae’s second owner. You’re Jimin’s third.” A pause, and then, “You’re my eighth. I know how this goes.” He pushes up from the bar stool and stalks back toward the stairs. “I don’t care how you treat me,” he calls back over his shoulder as he retreats back to the second floor. “But don’t get their hopes up by pretending to be something you’re not.”

A door slams and you flinch. You’re alone again

This day was not going how you thought it would. All the videos you’d watched online had shown bright eyes hybrids smiling as they were embraced by their new families, happy to be taken home. None of them had covered what to do if your hybrid didn’t want to be at home and certainly not how to handle an exotic one.

You shuffle over to the living room, toss your backpack onto the floor and step over the back of the couch into the sunken living room . You settle down, cross-legged and pull out your phone.You open up your web app and input your first query.

my hybrid hates me

3.5 million results.

You scroll down, article after article explaining how you should deal with dog hybrids challenging your authority, bunny hybrids thumping because they felt insecure, and cat hybrids knocking things over in a bid to get your attention. You suck your teeth. None of these were going to help you. You tap on the search bar and edit your request.

my exotic hybrid hates me

182 results. Most of them were for porn. You quickly hit the back button.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Let’s try something else.”

what is hybrid scenting

18.6 million results.

The top one is from the International Association of Hybrid Owners and you figure that’s as good a source as any. You tap it and scan the first paragraph.

Hybrids have a sense of smell that is thousands of times more powerful than a human’s. Scent is used to interpret emotions, track food in the wild and identify members of a family group. Juvenile hybrids often gravitate toward familiar smells in order to self-soothe if their parent is not available.

Upon welcoming a new hybrid into your home they may wish to mix their scent with yours in order to signify your new bond or let other hybrids know that you are a member of their family group. If there are multiple hybrids in the home, it is important that the dominant hybrid be allowed to scent you first, then the subordinate hybrid(s) in order of age. If this scenting order is not enforced, it can cause disharmony within the family group and tension between members.

You close the article and set your phone down. Was that why Yoongi was upset? Because Jimin and Taehyung had essentially marked you as a member of their family without his say so and undermined his authority? You flop back against the couch cushions. You were sure that wasn’t the only reason but it certainly didn’t help

You think about the cold look in Yoongi’s eyes, about how eager Jimin and Taehyung had been to get their scent on you, about how tightly Jimin had held onto your hands, like you were going to slip away into smoke at any moment. You drag your hands down over your eyes. Well, one thing was for certain. You certainly couldn’t send them back now.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Revision.

Commissioned by the very lovely @pyrokittyowo.

Pairing: Yandere!Simeon/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Past Trauma, Toxic Relationships, Codependency, Infantilization, Isolation, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Manipulation, Gaslighting.

The sun never sets in the Celestial Realm.

It’s less whimsical than it sounds, to be fair. Sleep is a luxury for angels, a way to pass time for the young and the injured, but that hadn't been something Simeon thought to tell you when you first arrived, as you tried to follow his mangled, irregular cycle of rest and work. You’d gotten the hang of it with time, carved out your own routine and forced yourself to follow it, but you’d be lying if you said you were completely used to it. It was grating, if anything, just how bright all of it was, the shine only amplified by the ivory and gold angels seemed so fond of. It was overwhelming, really. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve called it unbearable.

But, you did know better. This realm was warm, but not stifling, not half as oppressive as the Devildom had been. It didn’t have the same constant chill, a pervasive darkness only made worse by the humid air and that invasive metallic scent, like stone and rock and the blood that must've been soaked into the cracks of both. The darkness was worse. All of it was worse, but you tried to keep your mind on the landscape, the starless sky, the bleakness you’d slowly grown to hate.

If you let yourself think about anything else, you’d have to think about the people you’d met, the brothers, the way they’d looked at you. You’d have to remember how tight Mammon’s grip had been, the first time he took you by the wrist rather than the hand, or how dull Beelzebub's fangs were and how much it hurt when he drove them into your skin, your chest, the sensitive area just below your collarbone that never failed to bleed, when it bit down. You’d have to think about how Lucifer’s hand felt as it wrapped around your neck, the sound of your own failing breath, the way he’d laughed as you—

You inhaled sharply, cutting yourself off before you could get any more lost in the memory.

Because that’s what it was – just a memory. Something you’d never have to worry about again, thanks to Simeon.

Still, you were allowed to complain. Even indoors, perched in one of the many bay windows spotted around Simeon’s sizable chambers, you could feel the unyielding sun, notice the light start to eat away at your vision like a hungry, gnawing parasite. There were clouds in the sky, perfect wisps of nothing, but they'd been their since the day you first arrived, fixed features on an unchanging canvas. They wouldn't move. You already knew that. Nothing moved in the Celestial Realm, not unless it had a reason to.

And yet, you found yourself opening your mouth regardless, asking the question that’d been playing on your tongue all day. You could let yourself have this. You could hope that were wrong. It wasn't like this would be the first time. “It doesn’t rain here, does it?”

Immediately, there was a hum from across the room, one of the many soft sounds Simeon seemed to be so fond of. You should’ve been glad he was there to answer at all, really. Simeon spent most of the day tending to his vague responsibilities. If he had time to sit around, pouring over a scroll in a language you couldn’t recognize, it must’ve meant it was either too early in the morning or too late at night for him to be bothered with anything else. You couldn’t be sure which, not when the two were so impossible to tell apart. “Rarely,” He replied, still distracted. “Michael tries not to leave the weather up to chance. If he needed a storm, I’d be able to tell you weeks in advance.”

You almost felt bad for him. You would’ve hated it, knowing everything long before it actually happened, but you doubted Simeon would ever let himself be so careless. “I don’t know how I’d stay sane,” You admitted, your gaze moving back to the window. A white dove had landed on the edge of Simeon’s windowsill, meticulously sorting through bleached feathers with its pointed beak, and idly, you wondered if the animals bothered to regulate themselves, too. “You wouldn't like my hometown. Couldn’t see the sky most days, and when you could, it was nearly too hot to go outside. Never stopped it from snowing a month before winter, though.” You paused, letting yourself smile at the thought. You missed it; you weren’t going to try to deny that. You were still allowed to miss things. “Luke would probably love it. Say what you want about humans, but we've never gotten a bakery wrong.”

Simeon didn’t hum, this time. The silence couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but your heart still found a way to tighten in your chest, stopping completely as you heard his chair scrape against the floor, sharp footsteps following the noise immediately. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, and he was kind enough not to force you to, brushing off your avoidance as he positioned himself on the opposite side of your small shelter. It wasn't much of an improvement, though. If he'd just let himself be a little more cruel, you might've had the pleasure of hating him for it.

“You’re thinking about the human world again.”

He was getting straight to the point. You couldn’t say you weren’t thankful.

“How can I not?” You tried to laugh, but it came out strained, out of place against his sober expression. “I haven’t been home in a year. I’m bound to want to go back, eventually.”

“You know it’s not safe.” It was a familiar mantra, one you should’ve been numb to, but it still found a way to hurt, to linger, accumulate into a small, aching knot in the back of your throat as you reminded yourself that he was only doing it because he cared. That was all – he cared. He didn’t want to see you get hurt, not again. He didn’t want to see you face anything more harmful than his clumsy comfort, even if he did have a strange way of showing it. “We’ve talked about this before, (Y/n). It’s still too early to tell if Lucifer left any lasting damage. There could still be a tracking spell I haven’t discovered yet, or worse.” There was a pause, and a gloved hand came to rest on your knee. You could’ve mouthed the words, as he said them. “I can keep you safe here, but your world is neutral territory. I might not be able to stop him, if he and his brothers tried to take you away.”

You hated the way he said it. Part of you, a persistent minority, still wanted to think this was all a misunderstanding, a result of crossed wires and mixed messages and the kind of miscommunications that only ever led to such awful things. You knew it was unhealthy, to try to tint your own memories with such a forgiving light, but that didn't help you smother the temptation to believe all the soft, pleasant encouragements Asmodeus had whispered in your ear as his brothers lived out their distorted, carnal fantasies. Whatever Simeon was trying to do, it certainly wasn’t helping, either.

“I’ll be careful,” You tried, slouching against the glass. It was warm to the touch, a feeling you savored under his cold gaze. “It’d be a day trip, at most. Just a few hours. I…” He was wearing the silk gloves, today, soft and smooth as he raised his hand, cupping your cheek without a trace of hesitation. You trailed off instantly, still unused to the gentleness. “I just want to see my family, that’s all. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

“You’re bored of me, now?” It was supposed to be playful, the question accompanied by a light chuckle, but you still shook your head, leaning into his palm as you went on. “I can’t say I blame you. I know I’m not one for company, but if you’re dying for entertainment, I can see what—”

“It’s not just that.” You should've let him finish, but it was already too late to stop yourself. You didn’t want to stop yourself, if you were being honest. You just wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere different, a place where the sky didn’t hurt to look at and the sun wasn’t so willing to punish you for existing. You wanted to be able to step outside without worrying whether or not your angelic hosts still thought you were worthy of their concern. You didn’t want this, anymore, even if it was the better option. “I’m just tired, Simeon. I’m tired of being here, I’m tired of running, and I just want to go home—”

There was a small huff, a sharp crack. By the time you realized what happed, by the time that sudden acidic sting faded into a steady throb, his thumb was already digging into your jaw, your head forcibly tilted back in such a way that made it so you had to look at him. You couldn’t avoid the softened anger in his eyes, or the stiffness in his posture, or that tight, unignorable scowl. He was disappointed, and he wanted you to know you were the reason why. He was mad at you, and you’d done everything to earn it.

When he spoke, he did so slowly. Like he was talking to a child who hadn’t quite come to terms with reality, just yet. “I’ve taken care of you, haven’t I?”

“You have.” There was no point trying to deny it. If it hadn’t been for Simeon, you’d still be rotting in that hellscape, subject to the whims of a family of monsters. He'd saved you. He'd helped you escape, and you had to be thankful for that. “I just don’t know if I can—”

“And you care about me, right? You don’t want to see me worry?”

You hesitated, but your answer was inevitable “Of course.”

“And you do remember the last thing Belphie said to you, don’t you? What he did to send you running to me?” He let himself smile, despite the nature of the question. “I could barely understand you back then, with the crying and all. Honestly, I almost didn't notice you were begging me to save you.” It was easy to forget how Simeon could be, when he knew he was right. Most of the time, his confidence was comforting, a gentle reminder that you could trust him, that you should trust him. Right now, it just made you feel weak. “What was it, again? C’mon, love, you can tell me, can’t you?”

You could. Objectively, you could, if you tried to. You could force your mouth to make the words, you could shut your eyes and let Simeon guide you through it, and you could tell yourself they were just memories, that you were somewhere else now, that you were somewhere better, but…

But, you really, really didn’t want to, and you couldn’t convince yourself you did.

If you did, you’d have to remember how tightly Belphegor had held your hand, as he said it, his fingers intertwined with yours and his grip strong enough to leave your palm bruised, after he pulled away. You’d have to think about the small smile he wore, the hatred in his half-lidded eyes, the chill that'd run down your spine as he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder and told you that, if you ever tried to leave him, if he ever had to share you with anyone beyond the six exceptions he was already making, he’d kill you. It was as simple as that.

If he ever saw you again, he’d kill you.

You were safe, here. You were safe in the Celestial Realm, you were safe with Simeon, but you still found yourself choking on the words, your throat going dry as your shoulders pitched forward, a bolt of something frozen striking your chest before you could ward it off. You couldn't be sure why something so distant would make you cry, but you could feel it coming on – hot tears welling in your eyes, blurring your vision, threatening to spill over and strip you of what little pride you had left, but Simeon only wiped them away, as doting as he always was. As loving as he always was, even when you took his patience for granted. Even when you hesitated to lean into him, as he pulled you into his chest, urging you to hide your face and treat him like the pillar of support he was so clearly trying to be. Even when you didn't deserve it, when you didn't deserve him, when you didn't deserve any of this, not when he was kind enough to pretend he didn't know that just as well as you.

“Poor little thing.” He was humming, now, his tone teetering on the line between carelessness and comfort. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, not in the moment, not when it was all you could do to muffle your hitched sobs into small, pathetic whimpers. “It’s nothing to blame yourself for. You just need a little help.” Another pause, elongated and purposeful. Sadistic, in only because he had to try so hard not to be. “You just need someone to protect you. It’s only human.”

It was all you could do to nod, to agree, as mindlessly as you were capable of. You didn’t want to think. You didn’t want to risk remembering something you shouldn’t.

Instead, you just focused on the sunlight streaming the nearest window, how it felt as it hit you.

How, wherever your skin made contact with Simeon’s, it seemed to grow just a little more insufferable than it had been, a second ago.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Prompt: Vampire Chris drunk on blood?

CW: Drunkenness, drug addiction, blood drinking, vampirism, creepy abusive comfort, WWI-period-appropriate xenophobia and brief vague possible homophobia reference, dehumanization, war whump

"Now, that'll get you blotto faster'n French liquor," Kirk says, sinking back against the muddy trench wall, careless for the dirt caking itself into the hair at the nape of his neck.

His helmet lay beside him upside down on the ground, and his brown hair was free to explode in its wealth of curls, a kind of halo around his head. He had one arm out, sleeve rolled back. His hands were caked in mud and smeared with drying dirt - above the line of his sleeve, though, the skin was paper-white, almost clammy.

It was this white skin that the vampire's fangs were buried in.

"Shit, Holden, y'gotta have 'im bite you, too." Kirk's grin widens. The shells had gone silent but every man flinches, now and then, hearing a phantom sound or feeling a rumble beneath their feet.

At least it's finally stopped goddamn raining.

The venom rolls through Kirk's veins, soothing his jangled nerves. He can barely feel the trembling in his hands and it feels like his mind, when it's in him. He's a farm kid from western Nebraska, the second son and not needed so much as the first to bring the crops in. So here he is, learning to love the feeling of teeth in his skin.

Maybe when he gets shipped back home he'll stick to the cities. They say the vampires have their dens there, where they can hide. You can buy venom enough to quiet your mind for a day or two, the city boys tell him.

They're in it as deep as he is, now.

Feels like half the American army is itching for venom these days.

"No thank you. I'm not gonna get sent home and start chasing fangs like the rest of you." Holden squints, looking up into the dark sky, the rolling clouds that seem far too close to the ground. "It'll rain again soon."

"When isn't it going to rain again soon? Oh, right, when it's already bloody raining." That's a Brit, they just call him Tommy. No one knows his real name.

He claims to hate them all, but since half his unit was blasted apart two days ago, he's hung with the 'Yanks' close enough. Kirk thinks he's fond of them, even if he won't admit it. Or just scared to be alone. He can understand that. He's terrified of the thought himself. "Shove the little vamp over to me, Kirk, I want some."

The vampire pulls his fangs free, licking over the wounds he's made until they close. He's a skinny little thing, pale as paper with bright red hair they stuff under his helmet when he's running medic checks in No Man's Land, trying to make him less obvious. Sure, he can't die from gas, but he can be blown to bits by a whizz-bang fast as any living soldier can.

"Please," The vampire says, turning big green eyes up to Kirk. "I, I, I'm tired, please, can I sleep?"

He's got heavy dark circles under his eyes. It's kind of cute.

"No," Kirk answers, curt, shoving the vampire away by his head, watching him fall into the mud. His uniform is marked with it, now, a dab of dirt over the 'V' sewn next to his medic's cross. There's a satisfaction, in Kirk, just in seeing the little thing laid low.

He won't die in this war, and Kirk probably will, but before that happens he can at least hurt something he can see. You can't see old Fritz when you fire on him from a distance - but you can see a vampire flinch in the dirt. It's not much.

It's something.

"Must be daytime," Holden speaks up, still staring up at the clouds. "You can't tell, weather like this, but if the fangs're tryin' to sleep, must be day."

"He sleeps when we're done with him, and not a moment before." Kirk's voice is a murmur, eyes half-closed. He's drifting in it, the way the venom dulls and deadens the eternal ache in his back and legs. The Germans could come roaring over the bags right this second and Kirk wouldn't give a damn at all. Let them kill him, at least he can go with venom in his veins, not as a basket case carried off the field. "Not a second before. Go on, bloodsucker. Get over to Tommy and help him get some shut-eye, huh?"

"I've been drinking all night, pulled some rations off someone," Tommy groans, rubbing his fingers at his temples. "It's done no good at all." It's a funny little gesture, so oddly normal and casual. Reminds Kirk of home.

His throat tries to close, homesickness bowling him over. The wish to return to his mother's worn smile, sit down to dinner and have her ask him about his day, when his problems revolved around the harvest and the hard backs of the pews in church-

He takes a breath, forcing it back, and gives the vampire a vicious kick in the ribs, listening to his high-pitched cry and how he curls around himself with a smile of his own.

Oh, he'll die, probably. The others from his town already have. But he can remind himself he's still alive, for now. One way or another. He can cause pain he can't feel himself, for once.

"I said get over to Tommy and smooth out his sharp bits, bloodfuck."

"Yes, um, y-yes, Kirk," The vampire says, pulling himself onto his hands and knees. His fingers are smashed into the mud deep enough to nearly disappear. If they could only get a few days of sunlight to dry out all this dirt, it wouldn't be such hell.

As it is, his socks've been damp for weeks, his boots feel like they're caging his feet in a swamp. He's worried about trenchfoot and trying not to think about it. He stole these boots off a dead German when his own started to fall apart, anyway.

He could've probably gotten new ones, but... it had felt good, taking something from Fritz after Fritz took so much from him.

Kirk tries not to remember that the German soldiers he fights have never caused him a single moment's harm on purpose. They're only fighting for the same reasons he is - because someone higher up who doesn't give a damn about them said to.

Kirk had been all gung-ho for the war until he'd been sent over here to fight it. All those articles in the newspapers, all the speeches given by men standing in town squares... it had all made it seem so patriotic.

They never tell you, Kirk thinks bitterly, that you'll be sent into a slaughterhouse. They don't tell you you'll spend your day breaking a vampire's fingers one by one just to watch them heal back into place and listen to his little cries.

Just to pass the time.

"Trade me your flask while the fangs takes care of you," Kirk says, and Tommy hands it over easy enough.

He watches Tommy grab the vampire by one arm and yank him over, vicious and violent, making the vampire boy cry out again. The sound is starting to grate on Kirk's nerves. It makes him sound too human. He hates being reminded that every vampire used to be a person.

He drinks whatever's in the Brit's flask, and it burns down his throat just the way he needs it to. Wipes out his worries, relaxes shoulders that seem always to be tensed up nearly to his chin.

His mama's a teetotaler, back in Nebraska. He'd been one, too, until the first bombardment. Now he drinks anything he could get his hands on, and the officers mostly looked the other way.

"Bite," Tommy orders. Kirk raises his eyebrows when Tommy doesn't roll up his sleeve but pushes the vampire's face instead towards his neck, turning his head to the side to bare it.

His eyes meet Kirk's, and he smiles, bitterly. "Works faster this way," He explains. Kirk just watches as the vampire's fangs glint in the eternal dim twilight, hesitating before they bury themselves in Tommy's skin.

The little monster's back arches, pressing them chest-to-chest. A low rumble comes from somewhere deep inside, the animal sound the vampire makes during a good feed. He doesn't do it much with the regular unit any longer, they mocked him for it and one day he stopped.

The vampire's throat works as he drinks, and Tommy's arm slides around the monster's thin shoulders, forcing him closer. He's nearly kissing his forehead, this way.

It's an embrace, and altogether more intimate of one than Kirk thought he'd ever see from the cold, standoffish Brit. He feels a blush creeping up his neck and his cheeks as Tommy lets his head fall back, groaning softly in a kind of contentment as the venom hits. The sound isn't quite like a groan at all, it's more like-

"Fucking hell, Tommy, are you an invert?"

"Invert suggests I give a damn what bites me," Tommy replies, without opening his eyes. His slurred speech deepens, goes slow. His hand curves around the vampire's shoulder, holding him tightly. "I'm after oblivion, lads. I don't care what parts the fangs have that give it to me."

"Fang-chaser," Holden says, good-naturedly. Clearly not bothered the way Kirk is. Maybe that's just his farmboy past talking, that he's even unsettled at all. Maybe Tommy's got a point - who cares what's between a vampire's legs if you're only interested in the damn thing's mouth in the first place? "Fucking fang-chaser, that's what you are. End up in a den getting your hips bit like Oscar Wilde."

"Who's Oscar Wilde?"

Holden laughs. "You should try reading a book or three sometime, Kirk."

"Sure, sure, whenever I get the damn time in-between running over this blasted nothing. In any case, Tommy's definitely a fang-chaser."

"Guilty as charged... just like you two." Tommy's hand slides up into the vampire's hair, gripping tight and gently pulling backwards. The vampire's fangs slide free, and it laps at the wounds, rapidly. Tommy groans again. Kirk finds himself unable to look away at the bob of Tommy's throat. How good does it feel, in the neck? He's never thought to try it. He thinks about it now. "Turn me in to face discipline for unnatural relations with the fangs and I'll do the same to you."

"Yeah, yeah, we got it. Fucking Limey bastard." There's no real animosity in Kirk's voice. He's too distracted, drunkenly considering the vampire boy's mouth. Wondering if he knows how to kiss. "You shared your liquor, I shared our bloodsucker, we're both of us in it to our necks."

"Not me," Holden says, innocent and pure as the driven snow. As if he weren't the one to give Kirk the idea to use the venom in the first place.

Kirk throws a clot of mud at him, which he dodges, laughing. They're all laughing, soon enough, except for the fangs.

The vampire lays there, his head pressed to Tommy's chest and forcibly held in place by his arm. His eyes are slightly wide, unfocused, and Kirk leans forward.

"What's this, then? What'd you do to the fangs, Tommy?"

"Hm? Nothing. Oh, I'm pissed as can be, do they feel the liquor in your blood?"

"I'm guessing they sure do. You drunk, fangs?"

The vampire's eyes drift over to Kirk, move too far to one side, come back again. He swallows, thickly. "I... I think I, I, I am," He says, and tries to push back against Tommy's chest, to free himself.

The Brit's arm crushes him back into place, his other hand moving up to run through the vampire boy's dirt red hair, petting him like one of the ambulance dogs. Kirk and Holden laugh at the vampire's weakness. "Stay right where you are," Tommy murmurs. "Or I'll run you through with my bayonet and let you squirm all day."

"Christ," Kirk says, blinking. "That's a bit rough, isn't it?"

"He's not alive, what does it matter?" Tommy lets out a bitter little laugh. "Might as well get a preview of our own ends, shouldn't we?"

"You two, maybe." Holden crawls into the dugout, the little bed-space, a kind of cave dug in underneath the upper layers of the trench. He lays down on his back, closing his eyes, hands behind his head. "I'm going to go back home and never think of you lot ever again."

"I pray every night to make it home," Kirk says, nodding along. "Not sure anyone's listening, but I got to try, don't I?"

"What happens to the fangs, anyway?" The Brit looks up, rocking a little back and forth. As if the bloodsucker were a baby needing soothing. The vampire boy has relaxed against him, the liquor-laced blood he drank lulling him into a complacent bonelessness. Kirk watches the vampire boy's fingers start to tap over the Brit's chest, a strange movement he's seen the boy do before in his few relaxed moments between the scream of the shells. He hums, low in his throat, tuneless.

"Huh?" Kirk blinks. "What d'you mean, what happens to him?"

"After the war's done. What are they gonna do with the bloodsuckers? Can't exactly pin a bloody ribbon for valor on them and send them on their way, now can they?"

"Nope. I don't know what happens. Maybe they'll just stake them all and have done with them."

The vampire shudders, giving a little whimper. Tommy leans down, lips moving against the vampire's hair. "Ssssshhhh. Not to worry, little fangs. War's not over just yet, now is it?"

"N-... no. Not, not, not, not yet." The vampire's eyes close, pink-tinged tears creating pale tracks in his dirty face. He's a sad drunk, then, Kirk figures.

Aren't they all, these days.

"Maybe you'll outlive us all, and make fools of us for keeping you." Tommy speaks with a patronizing affection, as mocking as it is tender, petting through the creature's hair still. It's... unsettling to watch. Kirk had figured the Brits and French probably killed all their vamps, since they were all disturbed by the sight of the vampire medics when the doughboys first arrived in Europe.

This, though... this makes it seem like Tommy's known a vampire or two himself, in his life. And he's sure as fuck not unfamiliar to what venom is good for outside of giving relief from agony to the injured.

Kirk frowns, thoughtful.

He's turned into a thoughtful drunk, too, thanks to this goddamn war. Sad and thoughtful. What a fucking waste.

"Sleep," Tommy says, almost gently, to the drunk little vampire. "I've got you. Sleep, little one."

The vampire's eyes slip closed. He doesn't breathe - there's no sense of his chest rising and falling. Kirk has to look away before the sense of wrongness, watching Tommy cuddle a corpse, makes him sick.

He takes a long, long draught from the flask, and relishes the burn that reminds him he's human, and alive.

His own eyes slip shut, and he prays for an hour or two of sleep before the next screaming shell bursts overhead.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[houseofdabs]

fic idea: lester and jonesy scramble to get ingredients and find the recipe for the cake momma always used to bake the twins on their birthday. they are inept.

THIS IS SO CUTE AAA !!

warnings: slight mentions of abuse ---------------------------------------

Lester knew how his older siblings didn't really care for birthdays --at least not Bo-- it was kind of a sensitive topic as most familial holidays were for the Sinclair siblings, seeing as they lacked the proper warmth that their parents should have offered. The only semblance of affection was bestowed onto Vincent, being as he was their mother's favorite, and in turn, their father's as well. When holidays came their parents did attempt to share the sentiment with their two other kids, but it was stark in comparison to what Vincent received; it was like they were dogs receiving scraps while the real family sat at the table and enjoyed their meal. Thinking about it made Lester upset and he didn't like to dwell on it too much, he was determined to pick up the slack from his parents and reinstate the feel good emotions that holidays should have brought.

Now how was the question, and a damn good one at that. It wasn't that Lester wasn't good at planning things, he was quite good, in fact former partners always boasted about how thoughtful he was when it came to things like this. But this time was different. Sure he loved the ones that used to be in his life, but these were his brothers who he knew might not react positively to it, he didn't want to dig up any bad memories. And yeah, people liked parties and having things given to them, but when you grow up expecting that same loving hand to strike you, it's hard to cherish the good when you know terrible is right around the corner. It hurt Lester that his brother's couldn't appreciate even the smallest things, and it made him hate his parents for making it that way, but he would never mention it to the other two.

That's when he remembered his mom's old recipe book, she was a horrible mother but a damn good baker, and if he was right he'd be able to find that one caramel cake recipe she always made for his siblings on their birthday. He'd set out to get the ingredients, they were on a budget but Lester had set aside some money to get the good stuff, anything for his brothers. All he needed was some company.

Jonesy.

Pup at his feet and directions in hand, Lester sought to set everything out, he had borrowed some cook ware from the house but he'd bring it back when he was done, maybe not clean but returned. He was confident as he measured out the ingredients but with each step he followed his faith wavered. "Y'know girl, this'sa LOT harder than I had reckoned." Lester looked down as Jonesy who just stared up at him with her head tilted.

Determined, Lester continued on whisking and adding and folding till his arms were sore, his mama made it look so easy. He was so caught up in his stumbling over the batter he completely forgot about the beast that would be the icing, and just like with the batter he shook off any concerns, how hard could it be?

He set the ingredients in the pan to melt and went back to pouring the batter in the cake pan before setting it in the heated oven. Directing his attention back to the icing, he noticed it had melted all together and he checked the instructions for what to do next. "Okay girly, it says-- TWO HOURS?" His eyes bulged as he stared down at the paper, he hadn't remembered it taking that long and he didn't have the time to wait.

"Okay y'know what we're g'na do? Not that," Lester set the paper down and turned the eye up to a higher degree, "if it's hotter it'll cook faster, now ain't I smart?" He chuckled as Jonesy barked a response. "You said it sister."

Lester watched as the contents of the pot bubble as it turned a caramel color, stirring it occasionally. He decided to put on some records to help pass the time as he waited for the cake to bake. "S'too quiet," He muttered and cranked the knob to his old boombox as the voice of Merle Haggard flowed from the speakers and into the small kitchen, "there, thas better." He looked at Jonesy before patting his chest, and invitation for her to jump up and dance with him. He held the dog's paws as he swayed and sang along.

"♫ A workin' man can't get nowhere today ♫"

He grinned and stepped with the dog, "Ain't that right Jonesy girl!" Jonesy barked and Lester howled, encouraging her to make more noise. He was having such a good time with his dance partner that he forgot about the now burning icing on the stove. "Shoot!" Lester hissed and raced to stir the liquid and take it off the eye. It was a dark brown and Lester only hoped that it wasn't too bad cause he had used everything he bought and he didn't have enough to remake it. He could only hope that he didn't also mess up the cake.

Equipped with a butter knife, Lester opened the oven and stuck it in the middle of the cake before pulling it out, something he'd seen his mom do, except he didn't know what to look for. He noticed how the top was cooked and it was squishy when he pressed into it, so he pulled it out. Soon the cake was covered in the dark caramel icing and he swore at himself for lacking his mother's artistic ability, wanting to decorate the cake but deciding that he didn't want to mess it up further. He let the cake cool as he gathered everything in his truck, making sure to remember his brothers' presents.

He had gotten Bo a portable jump starter, something he had seen someone use when he was stuck on the side of the road. Lester knew the battery on Bo's truck had seen better days and he for sure didn't want his older brother stuck somewhere. And for Vincent he knew he had to get him this old brush carrier he had seen while he was browsing some antique shop, he even managed to sweet talk the lady up front to hold it for him till he could afford it. The holder was sturdy and made out of leather that had softened from years of use, on the back had flowers and leaves carved into it, nothing too 'pretty' but something artsy that he knew his brother would like. He had also snagged some whiskey while out shopping, hoping that it would help with the nerves of them all.

Once everything was packed in his truck, Jonesy included, he set off to Ambrose, careful to not hit any bumps and disturb the dessert that sat between him and the animal. He said a silent prayer as he crept towards the washed out road, hoping that no one was at Ambrose besides his brothers, that'd be a real thorn in his side and would surely ruin his plan. As he drove through the town he breathed out a sigh of relief as he noticed nothing out of the ordinary, even better that Bo was too busy in his garage to pay any attention to him as he drove by and up to the house.

Lester was careful with taking everything in, not wanting to make too much commotion in case Vincent was up in the house and not in his workshop. Finally everything was set in the kitchen, he even cleaned up a little, more in compensation for taking and making a mess of the dishes but he wanted it to look a little nicer. He was giddy and he didn't know what to do next, did he get Bo or Vincent first? He really hoped they would like it, he would understand if they didn't, but he really did want today to be good for them. He decided to put on some music to drown out the silence the house held, it always unsettled him how quiet it could get.

Soon Lester was accompanied by the sound of Johnny Cash's 'Big River' and the house felt less vacant, he knew his brother's liked different types of music but they never grew out of their taste of the old country tapes his parents had. For a second he wondered if maybe the music might throw everything off, remind them too much of ma and pa, but he pushed the thought down when he remembered how well Bo and music paired after a few drinks.

After he decided everything was ready, Lester headed off to the House of Wax first, seeing as Vincent would listen to him if he asked him to wait in the living room whereas Bo would demand to know what's going on. Jonesy pranced alongside him, her collar jingling softly as she bounced with each step. "Hey girl, you excited?" He asked as they stopped outside the House of Wax before leaning down to pet her head. Jonesy barked and her tail wagged as she basked in the affection Lester was giving her.

The two were in and out quick, Lester telling Vincent to wait for him in the living room and leaving before his brother could respond. It had been easy but he knew getting Bo to come without question would be harder. As he and Jonesy walked to the gas station he went over in his head how would ask Bo without giving away too much, did they even know it was their birthdays? Lester stopped in his tracks.

Did they even know it was their birthdays?

Surely they had to, if they did they hadn't said anything about it. It made him sad when he thought about how it meant nothing to them, but to him it was the biggest day ever, it was the day two of the most important people came to be, two people he loved so much it hurt. He'd be damned if he let his parents continue to torment his brothers from the grave, to hell with them, Lester and his brothers were better without them and he'd show them.

With new found confidence he marched to the garage where his older brother was, head ducked under a hood of some car doing god knows what. Without looking up Bo called to him, "Hand me that wrench will'ya?" He extended his hand and waited for Lester to drop the metal tool in his hand before continuing to tinker with the vehicle. After a few beats Bo addressed him again, "Wha'cha want? M'busy."

Lester wrung the hem of his shirt in his hands as his mind scrambled to find what to say, finally settling on "I need ya up at th'house, got sumn to show ya." He turned on his heel and made his way back to the family home, ignoring Bo's demands for an answer. "I guess you'll have t'come and find out I s'pose!" He hollered back at his brother.

Upon entering the house Lester saw Vincent sitting on the couch, waiting like he expected him to be. Not too long after Lester came in Bo followed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at both of his brothers. "Kay what? Th'hell you drag me up here for? Wha'cha gotta show me?"

Lester motioned for them to follow as he led them to the kitchen, Jonesy racing to be in front of the brothers, evidently more excited than the three men. On arrival Bo asked again what was going on and Lester so badly wished his brother had more patience. "Well..." He had started as he glanced between his brothers and then towards the pan that sat on the kitchen table. "Happy birthday?" Automatically Bo let out and groan and Lester had to move to stop him from leaving.

"You dragged my ass all the way up'ere t'tell me that? I'on got time fer this shit, told'ya I was busy." He stared down at his little brother before watching as his twin inspected the pan, peeling back the foil to reveal a cake, or something resembling a cake-- was it a cake? The fuck Lester bring with him?

Vincent turned back to dig through a drawer, grabbing a cake cutter and some plates from a cabinet. Lester stared at his feet as he shuffled slightly, embarrassed from the rejection. "Might not be good but I made a cake, got y'all sumn too.." His voice was small as he spoke to his brother, avoiding eye contact as he lifted his gaze.

Bo's face fell from anger to neutral as he watched his baby brother fidget, obviously upset from his reaction. "Shit, what th'hell, I reckon I could use a break." He ignored how fast Lester's expression lifted and instead head towards the table where the cake laid, "This car'mel cake?" Bo's eyebrows shot up and Vincent handed him a plate, he was shocked, he didn't know Lester was able to make it. He cut him a nice sized piece with his fork and shoveled it into his mouth.

Okay maybe he got ahead of himself with assuming.

The cake was mealy and the icing was burnt, the fuck did Lester do to this poor cake?

Lester watched as Bo stood there, a bite in his mouth but now chewing. "Well.. i'shure ish a cake" Bo muttered from behind the ruined dessert, trying to not hurt his brother's feelings too bad.

"Oh." Lester felt his shoulders slump and he held back a sigh, he had really really wanted the cake to be decent, "Y'ain't gotta eat it f'is bad.." He mumbled and watched as Vincent chewed his bite very slowly. Bo was quick to swallow, spitting it out would be too rude and he didn't think he could handle his little brother being more upset from the gesture. "Tasted like shit," he laughed and raked his plate in the trash before making his way to Lester, "well, it wasn't that bad but.." he paused, "but I sure do 'preciate it.." Before he could give it a second thought, Bo engulfed his little brother in his arms for a short embrace which Lester was quick to reciprocate. After a little Bo pulled away.

"So, what was that 'bout you gettin' us sumn?"

------------------------------

i didnt do much to correct any errors, its super late, hope yall enjoy it

[itsclydebitches]

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.