#dark academia well actually not scratch that

[deadhands69]

Tattoo Headcanons

My Hero Academia

I almost did a tattoo artist reader AU but decided to do these instead (maybe I still will, we'll see) tw: mentions of blood, needles, etc Characters: Dabi, Tomura Shigaraki, Himiko Toga, Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Denki Kaminari, Kyoka Jiro part 2 here

Dabi/Touya Todoroki 

What he gets: 

Flames (jk) Dark Japanese trad or heavy black work, something that covers a lot. 

What he's like while getting tattooed: 

“Okay, are you ready to start?”

“Yeah.”

*5 minutes later*

“Have you started yet?”

Dude could seriously fall asleep during a rib/foot/back of the knee tattoo. Instead of sleeping, he watches you very intently. It's a little unnerving, if you weren't already nervous.

After: 

In spite of his scattered living situation, I feel like Dabi would take really good care of tattoos. He already has the experience keeping his burns from getting infected so it's not new to him. However, the moment he overuses his quirk he gets more scars. So we'll see how long the tattoos look good for.

Tomura Shigaraki 

What he gets: 

Something nerdy, probably video game related. But also imagine if he got his family/hands tattooed on him. I could also see him doing a massive cyber sigilism type tattoo covering an arm, leg, back something like that. Maybe Mon??

What he's like while getting tattooed: 

You show him the design and he brushes it off, ready to start. I think Shigaraki would be a little irritable but overall sit well. He can deal with pain. 

He might get bored after a while and start playing his switch so you'd have to make sure he wasn't moving too much. He also seems like the type of client who would completely forget to eat or drink water that day. 

After: 

He’s definitely allergic to second skin/saniderm and maybe not great at keeping up with the aftercare on his own. Kurogiri would probably chase him around with soap to keep the tattoo clean a few times a day. Would also scratch the shit out of his tattoos while they're healing. 

Himiko Toga

What she gets: 

Something cute, like Sanrio type stuff. I could also see her getting someone's name. Or a coverup of someone's name and adding a different name.

What she's like while getting tattooed: 

Weirdly intrigued by the process. At first, you thought she was super interested in tattooing. But, with her fascination with the needles and the amount of questions she has about bleeding in the process you think it might be something else. She just asked you where the biohazard trash is taken and now you're actually worried. 

After: 

You don't even remember if you told her about aftercare, you were more concerned with making sure she doesn't go through the sharps container. She figures it out though and it doesn't get infected.

Katsuki Bakugo 

What he gets: 

Something that flows around his scars. He might cover them, if he gets too annoyed with people staring or asking questions but otherwise he'd probably do something that blends around them. Seems like the type to want something massive or nothing at all.

What he's like while getting tattooed: 

He'd start off quiet and complaining about everything but the pain. By the end of the tattoo, he's opened up and you now know everything about his job, his feelings on every single ranked hero, and all of his childhood trauma. 

After: 

Cleans neurotically. Wears sunscreen. Goes to work and gets the whole thing sweaty and beat up. Repeat.

Izuku Midoriya 

What he gets: 

All Might. Bronze Age? No, silver? And can you add script too? Changes his idea and keeps adding more until the morning of the appointment. 

What he's like while getting tattooed: 

Talks nonstop. It would be fun and a generally enjoyable conversation if he didn't gesture and move the whole time. Not really phased by pain though. By the time he leaves, you know everything about All Might.

After: 

He had second skin/saniderm on it but after playing with it too much (ewwww) he poked a hole in it and Bakugo yelled that it's gross and he needs take it off before it gets infected. After that, Izuku had to ask for aftercare instructions again because he didn't remember.

Shoto Todoroki 

What he gets: 

Something small. He didn't even want anything in specific, he's just getting one to piss off his dad who hates tattoos. So he gets something minimalistic and simple in a really obvious place. Like a set of lines or a circle on his hand or wrist. When asked, it means absolutely nothing ‘fuck Endeavor.’

(ooh maybe ‘FUCK ENDEAVOR’ in Morse code around his wrist. Something like that.) 

What he's like while getting tattooed: 

Completely stoic. He hasn't moved. Is he even breathing?? It's concerning. 

After: 

Takes decent care of it and stares at it for days. Oddly intrigued by the different phases of healing.

Denki Kaminari 

What he gets: 

Pikachu. Cool flash. He also seems like the type to get a ‘lost a bet’ type tattoo (or three.) 

What he's like while getting tattooed: 

“Ready to start?”

“Bring it!”

… 

“OUCH.”

There's absolutely no way Denki is holding still for more than half an hour so he'd probably be pretty wiggly and need a lot of breaks. It might be best if you have him overdo it with his quirk so he's loopy and just lays there the whole time. Either way, he'd probably have some really interesting things to say and keep everyone entertained the whole time he's there. 

After: 

Walks out the door of the shop and 100% forgets he even got a tattoo. Goes in a hot spring the next day before Bakugo yanks him out (why is he the mom of the friend group in this??)

Kyoka Jiro 

What she gets: 

Song lyrics or cool art. Like a dark watercolor tattoo. The type of tattoos you see on someone and wish you were cool enough to pull that style off.

What she's like while getting tattooed: 

Pretty chill, sits well and makes some small conversation. Mostly just listens to music the whole time. Overall, super easy client. 

After: 

Takes the healing process seriously enough, keeps it clean. The moment she leaves, half the bakusquad accidentally (or not) grab it. Still heals fine, it just sucks.

pt 2 - masterlist

[the-ragingenby]

guys don’t even ask me what this is, because I have no idea

Edit: AO3 Crosspost

My Kitten

Aizawa x Gender-Neutral Reader

You fought to keep your tail from twitching with annoyance as your last customer of the day decided to order one of every drink on the menu. “And will that be all for you today?” You ask, keeping your voice light. The customer, an older woman with long blonde hair, nods and pulls out her card to pay.

You bite back a sigh as she pays, handing her the receipt and turning away to make her drinks. All your other coworkers had long gone home; you had agreed to close tonight, but now you were starting to regret it.

You work as fast as you can, dropping ice into cups and pouring assorted mixes into each. For others, you had to brew some more espresso, or even just warm up some milk. She seriously wanted one of everything you had, which you still couldn’t believe.

About ten minutes later, you had handed her all her drinks and she loaded them into a small cart that she brought with her. “Took you long enough.” She muttered once she’d finished, waiting for you to open the door and let her out.

“Have a good night.” You gritted out, tail lashing, as you held the door open for her. Once she’d gone, you let out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping. Every day was as exhausting as the last, with you having to get people to focus on their orders rather than your ears or tail.

At times, you hated your quirk. You had to be mindful of your tail, otherwise your coworkers would trip. And you needed to keep your emotions, and ears, in check or your boss would accuse you of being disrespectful.

After cleaning up and locking the door, you trudge out into the night. Slipping into your cat form, you trot down the street, tail swaying happily behind you. Being like this made you feel a little better, even if your day was pretty shitty.

You pause, nose twitching, as you notice a particular scent in the air. You had smelled it before, but over the past months, it’s become more regular around the area. You pad along more cautiously, ears swiveling to pick up any danger.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you out here again, Cat.” A smooth voice rumbled from the alleyway. You jump away, fur fluffed up with fear, before relaxing. It was that hero that started hanging around recently, though you didn’t know his name. He wore dark clothes with a long scarf on his neck. His eyes were tired as he watched you, but his expression was warm. You had taken a liking to him, especially since he gave the best head scratches.

Letting out a purr, you weave between his legs, looking up at him. You can’t talk in this form, but you meowed at him, hoping he’d know what you wanted. “Yeah, I know, Cat.” He huffed out, amused, as he gently picked you up and settled you in his arms. He quietly pet your head and ears as you purred contentedly. “Wish I knew your name, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve gotten quite tired of me calling you Cat.”

You honestly didn’t mind, and there really was no way to actually tell him your name. Instead, you reached up a paw to bat at his chin, making him laugh. “Or I guess you really don’t mind.” He murmured, adjusting your position slightly so you’d be more comfortable. “I know I ask you this every time, but where’s your owner, huh? Won’t they be worried about you?”

You let out a huffing mew, smushing your face against his chest. The man rolls his eyes at you, but his expression grows more affectionate. “I’m glad I’ve been able to catch you out here all these times. You make the day more bearable.” He sighs, scratching gently under your chin. “Wish I could be with you more often, kitten.”

Your purrs grow louder in response, relishing in the affection from him. Being honest, you were hoping you’d run into him again. For the past few months, he’s given you the love and affection you were missing, even if you were a cat at the time.

How to explain that you were actually a human though…that you couldn’t figure out how to break to him. You didn’t exactly want to scare him off. You liked him. A lot. And if he didn’t like you in your human form too…you didn’t even want to think about the possibilities. All it sounded like was a lot of heartache for no reason. So, you stayed like this. It was better this way.

~

“Alright, Aizawa, spill.” Yamada demanded in the teacher’s lounge, leaning over the table. “You decide to ditch your friends for months and go to a town you don’t even know for what? To patrol? I don’t buy it!”

“Keep your voice down, Yamada.” Aizawa muttered, but made no attempt to answer his questions.

“Have you finally gotten yourself a partner? Are you shutting us out of your life because you’re in love?” Yamada wailed, slithering onto the ground and flopping there, clutching his chest. “I’m hurt. Truly.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes. “If you must know, I met a little cat. Love them with all my heart.” Yamada shot back up, fixing Aizawa with an unimpressed stare.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Aizawa! It’s a cat. Please, I beg you. You need to get out more.” Yamada grimaced, but Aizawa proceeded to ignore him again.

“I’ll spend as much time with Cat as I please.” Aizawa snorted, almost a little defensively. “Besides, the area is a little overrun with villains and I’m doing my part to keep them at bay.”

“There is no way you named the cat…Cat.” Yamada gawked at Aizawa, still not fully understanding why this man would want to spend all his free time with some random cat. Aizawa manages a shrug, refocusing on the paperwork in front of him. “You are…unbelievable.”

“So I hear.” Aizawa quips, writing in the grade on one of the papers before moving to the next. Yamada let out a sigh of defeat before ambling away. As he worked, Aizawa found himself wondering when he’d see his little Cat next.

~

It had been another couple weeks and you had made it a point to see Aizawa every day. After finally figuring out his name over the walkie talkie he had on his person, you were even more intrigued by him. He spent more time with you each night, when he could. Although there were a few times when he had to rush off to fight a villain.

With each passing day, you could feel your infatuation for him growing, and it made you feel worse that you hadn’t revealed yourself to him. But honestly, maybe it was better this way. You could tell that just holding you made him feel better, even if the exhaustion never left his eyes.

“My coworkers keep complaining that I’m spending all my time with you, Cat.” Aizawa murmured, gently pressing his head to yours. “But I don’t care. You make me happy.” You can’t help but purr at that, kneading your paws against him. He laughs softly, pressing a soft kiss between your ears before he pulls away, his walkie talkie crackling to life.

“All units, please respond to a rogue villain. Quirk: unknown. Currently in pursuit down Main Street.” A voice announced, causing Aizawa to sigh. He hugs you a little more tightly for a moment before setting you down.

“Alright, kitten, I’ve got to go. Now, go straight home, okay? Don’t go sticking your nose into danger.” Aizawa murmured, running his hand softly down your back before launching away into the night, scarf wrapped tightly around his hand.

You can’t help but feel a little disappointed that your meeting was cut short, but you decide to head home. As you meander down the street, you pause to sniff the air, frowning as you realize rain is coming.

You barely make it a few more blocks before the downpour really starts, drenching your fur. Flattening your ears and squinting against the water, you push onwards, already thinking about how long you’ll have to spend drying yourself off when you get back.

You leap away, yowling, when lightning strikes a nearby lamppost, shattering its lightbulb and taking out all the power in the area. You wonder, briefly, if you can even make it back to your apartment in this weather.

You race down a nearby alleyway, darting into a box tossed on its side to hide from the torrential rainfall. Shivering, you attempt to dry your fur, shaking yourself off in the rather large box. You let out an annoyed huff, thinking about how you’ll stink of mildew if you don’t get dried off properly.

But all those thoughts go out the window when you hear fighting among the crashes of thunder. “You won’t get away with this. Killing a hero, they’ll come for you, y’know.” You stiffen as your blood runs cold. That was…Aizawa’s voice.

“Bahahah! Like I care.” A sharp, menacing voice snarls. You didn’t recognize this one, but it was hurting Aizawa! “Heroes are all scum, so making one disappear is doing the world a favor!”

You race out of the box, charging down the alleyway and plant yourself between Aizawa and some bipedal tiger you had never seen before. A flash of lightning illuminates the alleyway briefly, and Aizawa meets your eyes from where he was collapsed on the ground. “Cat…?” He breathes, his tired eyes drooping as he fights to keep himself conscious.

He was bleeding from somewhere, though you couldn’t quite tell from where. You flatten your ears, turning to face the tiger with a deep growl rumbling in your chest. Leave him alone! You arch your back, spitting and hissing, trying to make yourself look bigger. This was all you could do. If you shifted down, you’d be less agile and those claws would certainly make more of a dent in your softer skin, without the protective fur barrier.

The tiger simply looks at you, an amused smirk gracing his lips. “Oh, what, you wanna keep the hero?” He snorts, lashing his striped tail. “Sure, why not. Us felines have to stick together, eh?” With a harsh cackle, he stalks away into the night, leaving you and Aizawa in the dark alleyway.

Without a moment’s thought, you shift into your human form, leaning over Aizawa and looked him over for injuries. “Hey, are you awake? Can you hear me?” You question, wincing when you notice a cut on his leg.

“Angel…” He mumbles, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“...What?” Before you can ask anything else, he passes out in your arms. You quickly scoop him up and, after pulling him onto your back, you haul him to your apartment, determined to patch him up.

~

Now, Aizawa was always a logical person, that he could stand behind. But here, lying on his side in the pouring rain, he was looking up at the most stunning person he’d ever seen. No, it couldn’t have been a person. It was an angel. It had to be. There was no way anyone who shone so brilliantly could be looking at him.

His eyes fell closed as the sound of rain and thunder surrounded him. Something lifted him up, he thinks, but after that, he wasn’t sure what was happening.

The next thing he knew, he was now awake on someone’s couch with a blanket draped over him and a bandage around his head. A cat was pacing the length of the living room, and at his stirring, they paused and immediately perked up. “Wait…Cat? Is that you?” His mouth fell open as the cat’s form shifted, revealing you in your human form.

“Are you alright? You can hear me, right?” You ask, approaching him and holding a finger in front of his face for him to focus on.

“You were a human this whole time.” Aizawa whispers, mostly to himself, as he follows your now moving finger.

You nervously clear you thought, pulling away a little. “Yeah.” You could feel yourself brace for some sort of meltdown or outburst or rejection or something, but Aizawa simply nods to himself before running a hand over his face.

“I want to apologize for, uh, everything that happened.” He says, sitting up slowly, wincing in mild pain. “It wasn’t appropriate, at all, and I’ll be out of your hair soon. Thank you for everything.” He managed a polite bow of his head.

Gathering your courage, you gently shook your head. “No, uh, it’s okay. I liked it and you…a lot…” Your voice trailed off, turning your head away in embarrassment.

Aizawa blinks at you, in pure disbelief. You saved him, brought him here, listened to his rants about work and his friends, and were just…there for him. “Then…maybe we can start over?” He offered, reaching out a hand. “Hi, my name is Aizawa and I’m a pro hero. Would you do me the honor of maybe going out with me sometime?”

~

Despite everything, you let out a soft laugh, taking his hand in your own. “Of course I will.”

He breaks into a gentle smile, looking up at your ears. “I know you aren’t a cat, er, right now. But…”

You snort, crouching down and leaning your head towards him. “Go ahead. I like it when you rub them.” He reached up, rubbing them softly and you let out a sigh of contentment, leaning into his hand.

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Though you were a little anxious about it, you felt at ease with him by your side. “Thank you, kitten.” He murmured, gently pressing a kiss to your temple.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

[yalocalfanficaddict]

TW; heres a prompt. Bokugo is having SH problems, and kiri catches him in the act. Then kiri ends up comforting bokugo and trying to help him get SH clean.

A little bit of angst for ya. ✨

Are you the same as the last Annon? I only ask because you spell Bakugou's name the same as the last Annon, haha! I don't have any ill-intent when I say that, only curious! Thank you for the angsty prompt, I hope I do it justice!! HOWEVER, THIS IS A SERIOUS ISSUE THAT I DO NOT WISH TO ROMANTICIZE!!! THIS WILL HAVE SH, HINTS OF ED ALONG WITH DISSOCIATION AND BLOOD!! PLEASE SKIP PAST IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE READING!!

Words: 4566

Katsuki knows he shouldn't do it. He actually hates it. He hates how the idea plagues his mind, disrupting his thoughts. He hates how his fingers twitch in consideration and temptation, succumbing to his mind and not following his body's request. He hates the feeling of satisfaction when he knows no regular person should. He hates the anxiety that chokes him when he changes in and out of his gym clothes. He hates it all.

Every. Single. Bit.

But he can't stop, no matter how hard he tries. He always finds himself locked in his private half-bathroom at least once a week, falling back onto his worst coping mechanism.

This time, Katsuki paces around his room, doing everything he can to break the cycle. Katsuki digs his fingers through his hair, a frustrated noise tickling the back of his throat. "God damn it. Why is this so hard? I'm going to be the next number-one hero for fucks sake!"

Slamming the side of his fist against his desk, Katsuki grits his teeth. Knowing he would cave by the end of today, he burns holes through his glare at the drawer. I won't open it, he tells himself.

The ache in his chest claws at him, yearning for it.

I won't open it.

The thoughts in his mind hound him, desperate for it.

I won't open it.

The shivers breathing against his neck and shoulders anticipate it.

I won't open it.

Shaking his head, his face skews. Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and backs away with a sharp sigh. He's better than this, and he knows it. There's no need for him to harm himself. He's perfectly capable of doing other things, but the idle scratching and picking at his left arm begs to differ.

Knowing there's no way for him to stop, Katsuki caves. Jerking the desk drawer open, he grabs what he needs before slamming it shut. Katsuki huffs as he perches on the edge of his bed, twisting his pocket knife open. I might as well do it where it's not visible instead of picking my fucking arm raw.

The cool steel glints in the evening light, casting a silver glow onto his complexion. He sighs, hiking up his shorts and peeling his boxer briefs back. Red lines trace along his flesh, jumping out at him from the stark comparison of his skin tone. Most have healed and are a soft pink, but the rest that scatter throughout his thighs are either faded white scars or dark red scabs.

Gnawing on the dead skin along his lips and the inside of his cheek, Katsuki alines the blade. Ten marks per leg. That's the limit he set himself if he ever wants to stop this. He hopes to limit himself to nine by next week, but that might not be possible.

An awfully too familiar sensation sneaks upon him. It's almost like his mind detaches from his body. The focus in his eyes slips into a haze-like stare, like sheer curtains drawing over them. His fingers and wrists work in mechanic order, never faulting or hesitating. The blade works along his thighs and hips like a bow drawing on the delicate strings of a cello.

How deep can he go before drawing too much blood? Katsuki has drawn blood several times after he worked up the courage to go further than only leaving red marks behind. How deep can he go before it's too late? Katsuki knows there's a crucial artery buried deep beneath his skin, but he's never reached it. How deep can he go before someone finds out? Katsuki has all but laughed a handful of times when not even Deku could figure out his strange new behavior.

Warm red leaks onto his free thumb, and Katsuki reaches for the tissue on his nightstand. Swiping at the ruby beads with one hand, Katsuki wipes the rest off of his thumb. He grabs more tissues and begins dabbing at the other leg. Thankfully, the cuts aren't as deep as he thought, so Katsuki keeps the Kleenex pressed against his wounds for almost five minutes.

Tossing the balls of bloody Kleenex in the trash bin, Katsuki comes back to his senses and off this strange high, realizing just how many marks he left on his body.

He sucks in a sharp breath, his clothes stinging the open flesh. "Holy shit. You fucking idiot," he hisses. Closed knife in his fist, Katsuki grips it until his whole hand begins to shake, pain shooting from his palm to his shoulder. Glancing down at his hand and the item inside, Katsuki raises his arm and chucks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. "God damn it all!"

The pocket knife strikes the wooden door with a sharp thwack! It clatters to the floor, leaving the room for Katsuki's agitated and labored breathing.

Slippers pad along the hardwood floor, and Katsuki instantly knows who it is on the other side.

"Damn," he whispers, realizing his mistake.

"Baku-bro...you good, man?"

He creeps over to the door and swoops down to retrieve the knife. Returning the knife to its original spot, Katsuki sighs before speaking up again. "Fine. A hundred percent good. Now go fuck off and go to bed."

Once he's positive that Kirishima has tucked himself back into his room, Katsuki curls up on his bed. Without much of a fight, he allows an all-too-familiar sense of shame to wash over him. Why should he be going to the extent of harming himself when he has it all? He has a proper family consisting of two parents, and his grades have never been better, not to mention that he's growing leaps and bounds with his quirk's potential. He even has Kirishima, someone he considers to be his closest friend.

Two faint knocks take him by surprise. That damn Kirishima just can't seem to leave him be. Katsuki gives one firm knock in return to assure that everything's okay. After that, it doesn't take long for sleep to claim him.

●•●•●•●

A shudder rips through his body as he steps into the showers. The warm water slips into the cracks and crevasses of broken skin, causing Katsuki to hiss at the sensation. "Fuck," he whispers. He clenches his teeth before any more sounds of pain can slip past.

Does he deserve the pain? The lines between yes and no are smudged like the dried blood along his body. He deserves it because of the foul, selfish desire growing enough to hurt himself over nothing. But he's tired, craving nothing more than to be held. Katsuki can't recall when such sweet and warm contact seeped through his skin and fizzled through his veins.

Tears nearly muddle with the water as unknown forces clench around his throat, making it a struggle to breathe. Wrapping his arms around his waist, Katsuki presses his back against the tile walls before his weak knees buckle, sliding to the pooling floor. His shuddering gasps echo through the showers, and no tear falls. He refuses. It doesn't matter how much the feeling suffocates him. Katsuki would blast his own arms off before shedding a tear.

And so he sits there, gritting his teeth, muttering profanities at himself, digging his nails into his sides.

He sets his plate down in front of Kirishima and almost gags at the food on his plate. Katsuki knows he must eat something, or his training and progress will be all for nothing. A fried egg and a single slice of toast fill half the plate.

"Hey man, how'd you sleep? It was nearly midnight when I knocked," Kirishima chuckles. A strange smile pulls at the corners of his lips. "I heard a clatter and thought it was weird to hear something from you so late—"

"I knocked over a book on my nightstand in my sleep,"

Kirishima hums before taking a bite out of his own breakfast. "Alright, bro," he says around a mouthful of sausage.

The two boys pick away at their breakfasts in silence. Peace finally settles over Katsuki like a familiar blanket he lost long ago. After battling with himself to the point of self-destruction, Kirishima silences it all. Kirishima mutes the thoughts that plague his psyche in hell-inducing, nightmarish ways. Kirishima shuts down the programming in his mind that encourages dangerous actions.

"Thank you," his voice cracks from how low he whispers.

"Huh? What for, dude?" Kirishima clears his plate with Katsuki hot on his heels.

Katsuki stays silent for a moment, contemplating his words. Why did he even say 'thank you' anyway? It doesn't matter. He needs an excuse to bring meaning to the rather hollow words. "You're the only shitty person in this world I would bother to call close."

"Aw, thank you, man! You're my best friend, too!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you weirdo," Katsuki grumbles, but this time a hint of playfulness sneaks into his tone.

Katsuki and Kirishima work their way back to the dorms, chattering away about their plans for the weekend. Well, it's more Kirishima nattering away while Katsuki listens in silence.

"—and Kaminari and Sero are planning another sleepover. Do you think I should go?"

He shrugs. "I'm not your damn mother,"

"Oh, right," Kirishima chortles. "I'm thinking of maybe going, but Ashido's going through another break-up with Uraraka, so I might have to hang with her again—you know how they get."

He nods.

"Well...whaddya think?" Kirishima asks as Katsuki clicks the button for the elevator. It doesn't take long for it to chime open, swallowing them in as Kirishima presses the button that leads to their floor. "Should I or should I not go?"

"Do whatever the hell you want. I don't care."

"Oh, right," Kirishima grins. "And uhm, do you want to watch a movie or something?"

The elevator's jaws open up and spit them out, leaving the boys to make their way back to their rooms. A movie would be...perfect, but Katsuki still hasn't taken out his trash. Removing any and all evidence from last night should be one of the first things he should do.

"No, I need to finish some more homework and tidy my room."

Kirishima raises a brow. They stop at Katsuki's room, and he watches him unlock the door. "You? Needing to tidy up your room? Who are you, and what have you done to Bakugou?"

He shakes his head with a low snicker. "At least my room is always cleaner than yours."

"Hey!"

"It's true,"

The silence only confirms what they both know.

Katsuki steps into his darkened room as Kirishima calls out, "I'll see you later, then. Right?"

"Sure," he grunts out.

Not bothering to switch on a light or open the curtains, Katsuki eyes the brimful trash bin under his desk. Despite eating his fill and spending time with his favorite person, his energy is somehow more limited. So he merely stands there, staring at it before drifting into space. What feels like TV static and muted chatter rustles in his ears, and for a moment, his world detaches.

Katsuki lets his head finally fall to gawk at his hands. They tremble as sweat begins to moisten his upturned palms. The same feeling of being strangled slips around Katsuki like an invisible rope hitching around his throat.

Sleep, he blinks back his trembling waterline as he wipes his hands on his pants. I need sleep. Maybe that's all it takes to feel better. God, I'm such a fool if I'm wrong. Scratch that. Delusional might be a better word...

He rips off his turtleneck and flops onto his bed. Curling up, he doesn't bother to throw on his messy covers.

This pain Katsuki's in is brain-numbing, chest hallowing pain. It's swallowing him up.

And he doesn't know how to escape it.

Katsuki wakes up to the sound of rapid knocking. Peeling his eyes open, he can't even register the slurred conversation he just had until a weight settles on the side of his bed.

"Hey man, y'good? It's nearly supper time, and you haven't come out since this morning," Kirishima's voice is warm and inviting. After a stammer pause, it quickly shifts to trembling, fearful. "Uhm, mind telling me what those red lines are on your hips there, bro?"

He's fully awake as he jolts to an awkward sitting position. Reaching for what blankets he can, he covers himself from the waist down. He must have cut himself a little too far up last night. "The fuck you staring down there for?"

Hands pull up in defense with a lowering head. "Sorry, I'm sorry, dude. It's just a bit concerning when you've been acting the way you've been for who knows how long."

"What the hell?" Katsuki feigns ignorance with a scoff. "You think I would want to hurt myself? Kirishima, let's be real here. Why would I do that?"

Kirishima bolts up and waves his arms in Katsuki's direction. An irritated noise rumbles the back of his throat. "You don't think that I wouldn't notice, Bakugou? I've seen how much you've cut back on your food and how you'd stare off into God knows where! I've seen how much more silent you've become, only flipping people off when they frustrate you. I've been waiting to see if this is just one big phase, but the idea of what you might be doing terrifies me. Bakugou, please tell me anything's wrong...don't suffer alone."

Words on the tip of his tongue swallow back into his gut. He's fine. He has a plan. A plan to limit himself week by week until he doesn't cut himself anymore. At least, that's what he tells himself. The notion of carving into his skin once more raises an excited feeling in his simmering veins while nausea churns, fuelling the civil war some might consider his mind.

"I'm fine, Shitty Hair. I was training a while ago and scrapped myself—there's nothing to worry about."

Kirishima sighs, squaring his jaw. "Fine, but please come down to eat something tonight. Everyone else is done, and the food's almost cold."

Katsuki nods, "Yeah, yeah. Sure."

He leaves the room, and Katsuki immediately swings himself out of bed. Fingers curling around his army knife, he creeps into the bathroom with a strange buzz of giddiness. Kirishima almost discovered the slashes on his legs and hips, so what if he ventures out further to see if he can get away with more. Just a little more, nothing too serious.

With the weather growing colder, everybody has been wearing long sleeves and jackets. If Katsuki treats the self-inflicted wounds just right and cuts just shallow enough, they'll be healed with close to no scarring by spring.

Locking the knife into place, Katsuki lifts his forearm up and bends it to face him. The seamless and unblemished skin stares back at him, practically challenging him to do it. Can he actually commit to it? He twists his wrist up and down, then left to right, observing how each artery, vein, and tendon sink in and jut out against the wall of flesh. An itch only a blade could satisfy burrows through the base of his wrist that connects to his palm. He refuses the urge and slides the knife lower to where the middle of his forearm is. Gently applying pressure to the blade, Katsuki slides it down. Memorized by the trail of red—blood oozing much more compared to the other places on his body—Katsuki glides the knife to another spot on his arm. Does he dare to go further? The last incision only takes a quarter of his forearm, so he goes again, dragging the blade halfway before stopping.

"Bakugou..? I—oh, shit. I fucking knew it. Holy fuck," a voice warbles and rasps.

His head snaps up, and his arms fall. With wide eyes, Katsuki stares into Kirishima's reflection, petrified to turn around and find him standing behind him.

Tears well up in their eyes, but only Kirishima's fall. He stretches his arm out, palm up. "Bakugou," he nearly whispers. When Katsuki doesn't move, Kirishima takes a half step and straightens his fingers more. "Please, Bakugou. Hand me the pocket knife."

Warm beads of blood trail down to his knuckles before splattering onto the cool tile in dramatic dollops.

Another step forward forces Katuski back, and the right side of his hip digs into the counter. "Go away, Kirishima. I just—I'm fine, honestly," his voice is meek, not even a shadow of his regular boisterous self. "I'll be down to eat in a bit, just...don't tell anybody, please."

"No. You lied—"

"Because I had to!"

Silence freezes over them until the scratching sound of Kirishima's slippers charges at him. Before Katsuki can react, Kirishima has both hands in a fist, pulling them above his head. "Drop the damn knife, Bakugou. I'm going to see you hurt yourself anymore."

Katsuki tries to fight back, but it's a struggle with how the small of his back presses flush against the counter, borderline arching towards the sink faucet. His arm burns, blood trickling down his elbow and seeping into Kirishima's black long-sleeve muscle shirt. Kirishima must have finished a workout before waking Katsuki because the scent of salty sweat tickles his nose. "Just let me go, God damn it! Then you don't have to watch, idiot," he spits, some flying and landing on Kirishima's cheek.

"But you're my friend, I can't...I can't just sit back and let you do this to yourself!" Kirishima grunts as he struggles with Katsuki. "Would you do the same for me? Just gawk, frozen in place as my own fucking blood stains me? Bakugou, you're going to kill yourself if you keep this up, and I refuse to let you go through with it!"

He falters at the words, unable to process how Kirishima spins them, pushing him against a wall with his wrists pinning on each side of his head.

"You might be in your own personal bubble, but we care about you—I fucking care for you! You're my best friend, my partner. You're my favorite person in the whole damn world, Bakugou..." Kirishima's weeping now, but the sound drowns in his ears as TV static crackles in the back of his mind.

Katsuki turns away to stare at the doorway. It stands a few inches away from them, laughing at their—his—struggle. Don't look at me like that, he wants to say to Kirishima. I'm not doing anything wrong... I'm just not in the right headspace right now.

But he stays silent, cheeks and ears hot with embarrassment. Everything blurs, so he stares up at the tile ceiling, to not let a single tear shed nor look at his distressed friend. 'Sorry' is all he can mouth, but Kirishima either doesn't notice or cares.

"Please, Bakugou...just drop the knife, alright? I'm not mad, but scared," he whispers the last word as if taboo. When Katsuki brings his gaze back to Kirishima, he finds his head hung and grip weakening. They both tremble and shake as tears swirl with blood on the floor. In some strange way, Katsuki finds it funny how it's almost a literal, physical statement of blood versus water. Which will stand tall and persevere? Only time and the fates know, and it's up to them to find out.

"I'm so damn scared that I'll lose you. Listen, I won't do the whole stupid 'Quit For Me' speech because that's probably the last thing you want to hear, but please stop for your own sake—"

"If you think this is all for stupid attention, it's not. I fucking swear on it, Kirishima."

Tears fall harder as both of them start sniffling. Kirishima shakes his head again, sealing his eyes tight, his face scrunches in hurt. "I would never. But please think of your parents if something worse happens to you. Think of Midoriya. Think of your goals, Bakugou. Who else will be number one? I have no clue because, at Midoriya's rate, he might not make it past thirty with how much he's been trashing his body through his quirk. There's no way in hell that Todoroki will be number one after all the beef he's had with his dad—he wouldn't allow it. So I'm begging, Bakugou—I'll get on my knees if I must—but please, please, please drop the knife. We can work through this together. You aren't alone...don't suffer alone."

Silence steals them away, leaving them with just their heaving breaths and solemn thoughts. He gasps when hot wetness trails down his cheeks. His first reaction is to swipe it away, but his injured arm screams at him when Kirishima stiffens his grip.

"Shit," he mutters. As the uncontrollable flow of tears slips down his face like waterfalls, a strange sense of vulnerability squeezes at his chest. Like he's been stripped naked for all the world to see, Katsuki wants to curl up under his bed and hide until Kirishima forgets this event. Katsuki sighs and looks everywhere but his direction. "Kiri, in my bedroom...I wanted you to know. But I didn't want to tell you. I was so close, too. What I've been doing to myself is much more complex than you think. I don't even know why I fucking do it. Shit, Kirishima, I sit here and try to limit myself each week. But...but..."

The dam breaks, and Katsuki's knees buckle again. A clatter is audible from the fallen knife, but nobody pays attention to it. Kirishima eases him to the floor before Katsuki wraps his arms around him like he's dangling from the highest point of a skyscraper. "Fucking hell, Kirishima. You," he's interrupted by a hiccup in his choking sob. "You're right. I swear I w-was getting better. I had a plan. I had precautions. It just went all to sh-shit today. God, I'm so tired of it all. Please make it stop—I want this to st-stop. I'm sorry, so so sorry. Okay? Give m-me a chance, and I'll change. Fuck everything so hurts damn badly..." Katsuki sniffs before another shattering gasp wracks through his body. "I'm so embarrassed that you see me like this now. Don't treat me like I'm some stupid fucking toy needing to be fixed now. Don't treat me like a doll in need of stitches. I don't need the pity."

More inconsistent and nonsensical rambles slip past his lips, but Kirishima doesn't pull away. Kirishima only cradles him closer, not bothering to acknowledge the blood staining his shirt. Carding fingers through Katsuki's choppy hair, Kirishima rocks him softly. Almost as if engaging in a slow dance of comfort and stability, leaving Katsuki no chance but to comply with his sobbing babbles. "Don't be sorry. It'll be okay, Bakugou, I can feel it. You have me to lean on and wipe your tears. You have me to guide you away from those dark paths and thoughts. You have me for everything and anything. I promise I won't leave you."

His cold hands link with Kirishima's warm ones when they pull away. Kirishima helps him to his feet before stooping down to rummage in the cabinet under the sink. "Now let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

●•●•●•●

About two weeks later, Katsuki slowly but steadily returns to a new normal version of himself. Sure, the first two days were messy, consisting of yelling and negative remarks from Katsuki; however, Kirishima gladly picked up his pieces and glued him together. For that, Katsuki has been forever thankful. Whenever he can, he leaves behind small gestures of kindness, whether it's cooking a meal, helping Kirishima tidy up, or slipping him the answers to their quizzes instead of lecturing about studying after getting their grades back.

But there's still this hollow, achy feeling nestling in the base of his chest. Katsuki doesn't know when it'll go away, but hopefully, it will be soon.

They curl up on Kirishima's bed, watching something on his laptop. Subtitles follow the screen's events as they watch an animated movie about wizards and moving castles. With almost his complete attention dedicated to the screen, he doesn't even understand what his body is doing to him until Kirishima points it out.

"Please don't pick at your bandage," Eijirou prompts, running his hand in a soothing motion along Katsuki's left arm and gently squeezing his shoulder.

Katsuki quickly threads his fingers together to stop the mindless action. He grunts in acknowledgment, resting deeper onto Kirishima's chest. Eventually, Kirishima found out about how touch-starved Katsuki is. So they've entered a silent agreement that whenever alone, Kirishima is allowed to hold him unless told otherwise, and the same applies to Katsuki.

"I'm so glad you're doing better now, Kats," Kirishima grins, shifting the computer with his free hand. "Do you...feel better? I can get you some ice cubes if you'd like."

Katsuki hums to himself before answering. "No, m'good."

If it gets worse, then I might hold some to distract myself, Katsuki sighs. But I have all that I need right here.

When the movie ends, the credits start to slide across the screen, and Kirishima closes the laptop and slides it off his lap. "I uh...got you something to celebrate."

Katsuki sits up, criss-crossing his legs, and faces Kirishima. His brows knit together as his nose scrunches ever so slightly. "Whatcha mean by that? It's nobody's birthday, and no holidays are coming up."

Kirishima turns to grab something in his bag from beside the bed. "Well, because what we're dealing with is a total beast, I thought after each milestone, I'd get you something to congratulate!"

'What we're dealing with.' That thought echoes against every corner of Katsuki's brain, warming him to his core. That's right, I'm not alone.

With the back of his unbandaged arm, he uses the back of his wrist to swipe away at the tears that well up along his waterline. That's another thing Kirishima has been trying to teach him. He can cry, and it's okay to do so. Nobody will make fun of him. Nobody will look down on him.

Kirishima holds up a book and a paper bag with the label of their favorite bakery's logo, a proud beam plastering his face. "Ta-da! Oh, jeez, was it the wrong one? Is that why you're crying? I think I still have the receipt somewhere..."

"No! No, it's fine, Kiri," Katsuki's lips turn up into the faintest of smiles. "You're just too kind to me, and I really don't deserve it. I just don't know where I'd be if you didn't come to check up on me that day."

They've checked in on each other several times before, but there's no need to elaborate on which day he's talking about.

Kirishima sets the items aside and pulls Katsuki into another warm hug. "Shhh, it's okay, Kats."

The pair stay like that for a moment. Katsuki doesn't know where he starts, and Kirishima begins, but he doesn't mind. In fact, Katsuki actually enjoys it. He enjoys how the idea of silk-smooth possibilities settles his thoughts. He enjoys how his fingers twitch in consideration and the temptation to hold Kirishima at any moment. He enjoys the feeling of satisfaction when he knows he is, in fact, getting better with each baby step. He enjoys the pride that swells in his chest on how he did and will survive. He enjoys it all.

Every. Single. Bit.

I'm so sorry for any inconsistencies towards the characters!! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter even with it being more on the darker side of things. I was planning to have more of the comfort aspect come in, but then it would've been too long, so I had to cut it off short, sorry! Below this is the link for if you wish to read this on AO3!! Also, if you would like to have this fic gifted to you, please @ yourself the next time you request! Thank you~!

[inkykeiji]

random question! but I know all your iterations cant really process their feelings and have mood swings. but if they get in a fight with their reader, how long do their mood swings or "anger" towards reader last? like for example, tnii reader after the tomura incident, yes he branded her but did he constantly bring it up until one day he was like fuck it?

ooh good question!!!

canon dabi holds grudges like a fucking pro, which means pretty much all of my iterations of dabi hold grudges very well.

tw: toxic relationships, stepcest

i’m just going to go over my three main iterations of dabi, but if you’re interested in the twins + dark academia dabi + 1950s dabi or any other characters let me know!! <3

in terms of touya-nii and the specific example you’re using, i’ve mentioned it before but it’s something he uses as emotional ammunition against reader for a long time. he doesn’t constantly hold it above her head on a daily basis (though it does take him a decent amount of time to truly and fully accept it and move on) but he does bring it up each and every time they get in a fight, purely to hurt her, to make her feel guilty and to get under her skin, and to elevate himself in the argument. he pulls this stunt for at least a year or so, until he’s more or less finally come to terms with it in the most complete sense (meaning he accepts that it’s happened, he acknowledges that it’s in the past and there’s nothing he can do to change it, he trusts his baby fully again, and he’s sick and exhausted from holding onto it any longer. it will always bring a slight sting whenever he thinks of it, so he prefers not to, but touya-nii even with all of his issues thoroughly processing and understanding his emotions and the emotions of others is far from stupid. he may have difficulty forming meaningful and long-lasting connections with 97% of people, but he does understand human emotions and how they work on a deep and complex level irregardless of the fact that he rarely experiences these himself. point being: eventually, after several conversations with his baby, he comes to terms with why she did what she did, and he accepts that it was purely to hurt him + get back at him, and not because she wanted something or someone else. this is when he will finally let it go).

bmb dabi is the worst to be in a fight with, by far, if he believes you are the one in the wrong, or if he believes you’ve wronged him. he is extremely immature about it all and he will stay angry at you for however long he believes is warranted, depending on the severity of the offence in his eyes (which is, of course, always disproportionate to the actual offence committed). he expects you to grovel and beg for his forgiveness, on your knees with tears in your eyes and fingers tugging at the hem of his sweater and scratching at his thighs, and he expects you to do this several times, until he thinks it’s sufficient enough. he expects you to offer to make it up to him, to plead and cry and promise to make it all better, and to do whatever he says for however long he says to do it without a single word of complaint or a sour look. only when he thinks you’ve done enough and atoned for whatever sin you committed against him will he begin to forgive you. it’ll still take time, even then, for you to fully regain his favour and, like touya-nii, he is definitely not against using your mistake against you whenever he wants to—this includes outside of other fights, as well, to guilt you into doing things you may not want to necessarily do. bmb dabi is extremely emotional and explosive, and this translates into how he handles fights and mistakes as well.

honestly, tag dabi is probably the most mature out of the three, and i feel like this is evident throughout his series as a whole. he tries his best to be understanding with his reader (though, of course, it’s important to keep in mind that this stems from both a place of ‘love’ and a place of sheer manipulation) and when she does disobey him he has his initial outburst of pure, potent fury, but then he calms down and can usually think about it rationally and/or figure out how he can use this incident to his advantage.

as such, tag dabi is also a lot more sly and sneaky with his fighting and his anger. if he’s really pissed off at you, and he wants to make you pay—make you hurt the way he’s hurting, make you atone for what you’ve done to him—he is going to do it in the most inconspicuous yet cruel way. he’s going to have you questioning your sanity, he’s going to have you in tears without you even fully understanding why you’re feeling so terrible, he is going to use your love for him and your trust in him against you as his strongest weapons. but he wouldn’t resort to such severe methods unless he thinks you genuinely ‘deserve it’—which is to say, you’d have to really fuck up for him to employ such methods.

[straybraincell]

greetings fellow sapphics, today as per usual i will doodle silly little b l o b s in my ap lit notebook in which i project my childhood trauma a little bit too much <3

[dadsbongos]

trashy dad

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Shota Aizawa/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: references (2) to un*s ann*s, one (1) use of (y/n), fem pronouns Summary: Shota trying to support his YouTuber daughter :) cuz social media aus own me Word Count: 2.1K ~~~

"Hey, gamers," you grin at the camera before tossing an arm over your father's shoulders, "My dad's in town and as you can see," you hesitated slightly before turning to face your father, "Dad's not super into taking care of himself. So, I figured what's better than doing a Q&A together while I do his makeup?"

"Hitoshi just did a 'what I eat in a day', didn't he?" Shota quirked a brow, already reaching back to tie up his messy, tangled hair.

"Spoilers!" you quietly whine as you open your phone, "He still has to edit it, silly man. We're gonna have to brush out your hair later, by the way."

Shota's eyes widened, "We? I thought this was your idea and video, (Y/n)."

"No," you huff, scrolling through a few of the questions from fans, "I mean it was but your hair is so… Okay, first question is from - oh my God the names - shrekslongtoe, what was my first word?"

"Are you gonna start putting makeup on me or just sit there?" Shota scratched at his nose before snickering, "That wasn't your first word. Your first word was 'Dada' and it drove Hizashi insane."

"Hizashi is my other dad, by the way," you lean over to grab your makeup bag, "'Toshi and I call him papa. Oooh, oh no," you looked up to Shota, "I don't have your shade, you're gonna look weird."

"I don't really care," the man shrugged, watching as you took out a pink beauty blender, "That looks like a buttplug."

"Don't say that!" your eyes were wide at his words while you got out your foundation, "Youtube doesn't like that."

"Whoops," he deadpanned, "Next question."

"Shit, right."

"Language."

"Japanese," you murmur, going to the next reply, "yoonbumskneecap asks, 'Did you believe in me-’ they said my name but you know, ‘and Hitoshi when they decided to become Youtubers?' And 'in 'Toshi's case - drop out of college to become a professional clout man.'"

"To be honest," Shota closed his eyes, only in slight fear, as you began pressing the foundation into his skin, "I was really worried about Hitoshi, I didn't know if he'd stay as big as he was because he's a lot like me, in the sense that people tend to not like us for our bluntness. So I was worried he'd be a meme for like a month and then people would drop him, but thankfully I was proved wrong," he opened his eyes when he felt you pull away and begin rooting through your bag once again, "With you, I was less worried because you're more like 'Zashi, i.e extremely likable, and you were kind of getting a boost from appearances on Hitoshi's channel. I still worry because the internet is a fickle mistress but I'm not staying up at night about it."

Pulling out a dark eyebrow pencil, you grin at your father, "Aww, that was kinda sweet. Not really but kind of."

"What I'm here for," Shota's eyes followed your hand as you uncapped the pencil and reached up, beginning to mark at his eyebrows, "I'm gonna read the next question while you kill my eyebrows."

"I'm not killing them!" you giggled, "But unlike Papa, you already have pretty thick, full eyebrows so I won't be here long."

"Good," he muttered before furrowing his brows in confusion, ignoring your frustrated groan, "who is daddysero and why is he asking if you pissed today?"

"What?!" you pull your dad's hand back to see what he was looking at, instantly calming down when you saw he was still on Twitter, "Oh, that's just Sero, he asks me that every time I tweet. I thought you went to my Instagram DMs," at Shota's questioning stare you grinned, "Mama's got simps in her DMs."

"Don't ever call yourself 'Mama' in my presence ever again," Shota shook his head, once again ignoring your annoyance, "papichulo46290 wants to know my favorite memory of you."

"If you mix me up with 'Toshi, I'll be so pissed," you return the eyebrow pencil to your bag as Shota speaks.

"I won't... probably," he shrugs while you root through your bag, "So, Hizashi had taken Hitoshi out for ice cream because of - has he mentioned his middle school trauma?" at your nod, he continues, "Hitoshi was having a bad day from middle school, shocking, so you and I were left home alone together. You were probably seven and you really wanted to paint my nails and I let you. You..." he shook his head, snickering, "you fucked them up. So bad. But you were so happy to just be spending time with me- "

"Keep talking, but I'm gonna do your eyeshadow," you lean back in, swishing your brush over a navy blue, almost black shade, "Just so you guys know, Dad wanted to look like shit, don't unsubscribe cuz this is gonna come out bad."

"It won't be too bad, you're talented," Shota did his best to remain still, "But overall, you were just so adorable and it didn't even matter that the smudged nails got me teased in the teacher's lounge the next day. It all came off after like a week because it was shitty polish but you get the idea."

"Aww, I didn't know you kept it on, that's so sweet," you fall back briefly to inspect your work, "It's not awful but I'm only posting this because you're my dad."

"Of course, I did," Shota continued scrolling through the questions, "A lot of people are asking if you mean Dad or Daddy, and a lot more people are asking for pictures of your feet, you should block them all."

"Yeah, I got sickos in my replies too, just gotta scroll past em'."

"Disgusting..." Shota grumbled as you moved to his other eye, "Is 'electrodick' Kaminari, perchance?"

"Unfortunately."

"Gross, he asks if you had an 'I'm not like other girls' phase," Shota hummed quietly in thought, "Maybe when you were eight for like a month, but that's probably because except for Nemuri you didn't have any women in your life. Thankfully you moved on from that pretty quickly."

"Oh yeah, that was a gross, weird time. You and Papa also weren’t shitty people so I didn’t have a lot of misogynist influence."

"I like to think we did a good job," Shota sighed, finally moving back into his slouching position when you pulled away completely, "Is 'explosionmurder' Bakugou?"

"You know it."

"Okay well, he's asking if you plan on fucking up your bronzing again?" he thinks for a moment, “Was that from when you looked kinda copper-ish in a video?

"Oh my God, that was one time, Bakugou!" you shout and shake your brush at the camera, "One time!"

"I don't even know what blending is so you're doing better than I am."

"God, how are we related?"

Without hesitation, Shota replied, "Surrogate. Which answers summerlongsock's question."

"Nice," you chuckle, setting the brush back in your bag, "You probably won't need too much bronze or countour since you're going for bad," you immediately turn to the camera, "And Bakugou isn't gonna say a fucking word about it!"

"Is eyeliner next? And if so, I would enjoy a nice wing," Shota muttered, looking through the remaining questions, "Hitoshi asks why I haven't done a video with him yet."

You nod along while uncapping the liner, "I'm curious about that too. I thought my first video with a parent would be with Papa. I was gonna say family but..." you shrug, "Hitoshi was my first video and then Eri came on."

"He never asked," Shota closed both of his eyes, allowing you to move his head around as you pleased, "You just texted me the video idea and we set it up while I was in town. If Hitoshi wants a video so bad he should come up with an idea."

"Jeez, don't bully the poor boy," you laughed quietly, carefully applying more eyeliner to your father's left lid, "We should all do a video together. I think it'd be fun."

"Come up with an idea," he replied flatly before opening his eyes, "davinky wants to know when you got into makeup. Probably after thirteen, sometime."

"Yeah, I got my first real eyeshadow at like fourteen and then you guys just enabled my love of makeup after that."

"Well, the thing with that was, Hizashi and I didn't want you growing up thinking you had to wear makeup for any reason," Shota opened his eyes once he felt you back away, blinking a few times, "So we waited till you were more mature because giving makeup to a six-year-old is weird."

Capping your eyeliner, you traded it out for mascara, "Yeah, even little play kits are a bit ehhh. Don't close your eyes, but look down."

Following instruction, Shota took the opportunity to read off another question, "I can't see the name but someone's asking what we did together for fun. While you were a kid."

Humming quietly in thought, you move from one eye to the other, "We used to go to diners a lot. Those late-night diner trips, remember?"

"Oh yeah, you were such a little demon about bedtime. I had to take you to this little place for scrambled eggs or some shit and you'd fall asleep on the way back home."

Putting away your mascara, you reach out for your hairbrush before beginning to pull out the hair tie in Shota's hair, "Mina wanted me to ask what videos you show people when they ask what your kids do for a living."

"For Hitoshi, the one where he and Kaminari made Bakugou breakfast with sex toys. For you, the one where you turn yourself into Mina's little character - with the pink skin," Shota winced slightly at the tug of your hairbrush, "And Eri's a teacher so that information comes first since it's the least strange."

As you fussed with his tangled nest of hair, you read another question over Shota's shoulder, "When did you know you loved me? Like after adopting me."

"Not too long after the adoption was finalized actually," Shota grumbled as the brush made its final courses through his hair, "You've always been a really great kid. I don't know when I 'realized' but it was definitely around the time you were born, maybe like the day after."

"That's pretty good considering I was a stranger," you giggled, brushing out the final knots in his dark hair, "A baby stranger."

"Hmm," Shota hummed in response, "You almost done?"

Refraining from rolling your eyes, you fluffed Shota's now smooth and detangled hair around his shoulders with a small smile, "I'm done. Your hair is so pretty when it's brushed out."

"I know," the man muttered, handing your phone back, "Wanna do one more question and then sign off?"

"Yeah," you scroll through some of the questions, "I want it to be the best question that's ever been asked."

"Ask your own, you're great at that."

You shook your head with furrowed brows at his comment, "Is that a compliment?"

"It was meant to be."

"Thanks, but no need, I've found one. Midoriya wants to know if raising two attention whores was hard. He didn't say ‘attention whores’ because he doesn't swear but that's the vibe."

"What's Midoriya's at?" Shota asked.

"SmallMight."

"Of course," the man grumbled, closing his eyes to think, "You two were honestly pretty easy to raise. Not a whole lot of fits compared to what I've heard other parents talk about. You both liked to talk a lot to each other, and, of course, to Hizashi and me. Not terribly difficult at all."

"Aww, I'm glad we didn't make you pull your hair out," you grin.

"Oh, you still did. Absolutely."

"Nice," you giggle before turning off your phone and facing the camera, "Okay guys, well, I hope you don't clown on me as much as usual because if you do, my dad will... I don't know… kick your ass."

"Exactly," Shota nodded, a horrific smile on his face, "I'll beam right into your living room."

"Hopefully you guys come back next week where I'll..." floundering for an answer, you turn to your dad as if he’d give you ideas, "Create wings to do it better than Icarus ever could."

Giving a singular stiff nod, Shota looked dead at the camera, "I'd watch it."

"You heard it from the main man himself, peeps," you waved to the camera, Shota copying the motion, “Bye!”

"If there's one comment about my eyebags, I'm never coming on your channel again," Shota lied as you leaned over to stop recording.

"They're gonna love you, I'm sure," you assure your father, "Wanna see how I edit?"

"God no, Hitoshi showed me how long it takes to edit his videos, it looks like hell."

[billys-lover]

hi! just recently followed and im already obsessed w your blog! i was wondering if i could possibly get a ship please?

i’m 18, bi, use she/her pronouns! i dye my hair quite a bit,, but currently ive got dark brown hair with pink streaks,, plus i have quite a few piercings!! cannot go anywhere without smudgy eyeliner and id say my style is kind of a grunge academia aesthetic! im very shy until i get to know people better and am so easily flustered,, but also rly affectionate! im also so clumsy its not even funny and i cry really easily-

i’m super into rock music + horror movies, but i also have an obsession with cheesy 80s movies! i actually wrote a screenplay for a short horror film but never got round to directing it. i rly like crystals, baking, writing stuff and i have such a bad caffeine addiction ++ im learning to play guitar!

i hope this is enough/okay,, hope you’re having a great day/night!!!<333

hi hun! before i start off i just quickly wanted to say thank you so much and you seem literally so cool?! hopefully you enjoy :)

i ship you with...

STU MACHER!

- just to let you know, this man is obsessed with you from the moment you two make eye contact for the first time.

- can he maybe like... i dunno... help dye your hair? - he will make a mess though so... think the question through a couple times

- but hes trying his best and that's all that matters! - wants you to do his makeup.

- doesn't care if its just a little bit of eyeliner, he wants to match you :(

- hope you dont mind being made fun of for getting flustered so easily!! - he means no harm while doing so, he just loves seeing you flustered

- it scratches this itch he has?? idk, but he loves it and finds it adorable

- you're affectionate? well unfortunately for everyone else you and stu will be attached by the hip.

- i can promise you this man is just as affectionate as you!

- hes always holding your hand, wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing your head, the list goes on

- and if you're into pda? even better! you guys are going to make everyone jealous.

- DEFINITELY THAT ONE RELATIONSHIP EVERYONE WANTS

- i see you guys being like the "couple of the school"

- stu is definitely into rock and hyper pop

- and he definitely listens to greta van fleet if were talking about scream taking place nowadays, just saying

- horror movie dates every friday night. i dont make the rules.

- please bff, let him read the screenplay

- but then also realize that hes gonna want to be in the movie... and is gonna tell all your friends... and now you have a cast if you want to direct the movie!

- stu wants to learn how to play the guitar 100%.

- please if you've learnt a song or two, teach him

- but do realize that you've just created a monster and now hes convinced hes jimmy page...

[boiling-potato]

Out of curiosity. Do your characters have powers? If yes, what are they?

Yup!! Only Farris, Casimir, Rosemary and... Trickster?? I'll explain!!

��� For Farris he can separate and control his feathers from his wings! He can also sharpen them like knives and whenever someone gets scratch by them will be paralyzed because fun fact each wings of the Hammond family carries a special type of self defense.

His older brother Maverick carries poison and her sister carries diphenhydramine

(Also before any of you assume No, I did not took inspiration or copy hawks from my hero academia. I created Farris before I even know him (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠))

• For Casimir, well as I explained before he does dealings with evil entities such as gods, demons and many more by selling some of his victims soul. He also practices voodoo, dark magic, summoning, curses and possession so yeah he can do many things that I can't even explain. But the one thing that he uses the most is this scarf around his neck that can morph into this many rope-like-snake things that he can control!

• For Rosemary she can control chains and cuffs, make them appear out of nowhere and latch onto someone real fast! She got this power from Casimir by selling her soul. She wanted to be as strong and capable as Casimir to impress her young master (Trickster)

• And lastly Trickster! It's actually hard to explain what she can do because she can do this little things like pulling a flower out of her hat, apear from one place to another, pull random things out of nowhere, talk or charm herself out of a situation and many little things so yeah! It's still not confirmed if she can do magic or just a really skilled street magician! And a murderer

...... But I mean.. she had lived for many many years, not human, and claims she can't die but can't do magic?? Hmm who knows? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[dumbassacademia]

Dumbass Academia: A Concept

Making snarky jokes when someone asks what you plan to do with your major

Ex: “My real life plan is to marry rich and become a wealthy widow at a young age. College is just a pickup scene.” 

Getting used to various mystery stains on all your books/essays/papers 

Is it food? Is it a water stain from reading in the bathtub? Is it tears? Were you annotating the book and some ink blotted up? Who knows? Certainly not you, better read around it. 

Speaking of annotating books: Underlining all the bad words 

This is especially fun if it’s something more “high brow” like a poetry book

Your glasses (if you wear them) are somehow always either dirty or scratched. You can’t see with them off, but you can’t see all that well with them on either. 

You have a book. You want to read the book. It is highly recommended. It’s supposed to be very good. It will allow your mind to grow. It may even have a deep meaning or important historical significance that you really care about absorbing. Alas, neither your brain nor your heart has room for new characters to love or new obsessions to fixate on. You read fanfiction instead. 

Finding a way to justify pretty much anything you like as part of your preferred aesthetics

Ex: “The show Rick and Morty totally counts as dark academia because it heavily involves science and education and also because gay stuff happens in it.”

Ex: “Wearing black lipstick is totally within the realm of cottagecore because there are black flowers and good rich dirt is often black and there are black nights with beautiful shining stars. 

Correcting people about small errors on an impulse and then realizing two days later that they were actually right. 

Writing things in code and posting them randomly online

(If I get to 150 followers on this blog I will be doing that btw)

Posting stuff or saying stuff and pretending that you don’t care about people’s opinions on what you say because you’re in this for you but secretly anytime you get a notification you almost cry because you’re so excited 

Using old beat up notebooks and any pens you can get your hands on because you don’t have the time or money for fancy stationary 

Being a little pretentious and doing things purely For The Aesthetic but then ten minutes later you’re eating mac and cheese and watching cartoons in the bathtub because being elitist is fun but it takes so much time and effort 

Having a lot of mottos but none of them actually really apply to you but you insist that they are in fact what you base your life on anyway. Sometimes they like, half apply? But never all the way

Ex: “Be gay do crime”

Were you a gifted kid who didn’t quite fit in with everyone else in the gifted program’s intellectual strong suits? Or a gifted kid who now feels like you’ve become completely mediocre/average? You fit in

Alternatively were you a student who wasn’t considered one of the “smart” kids and even may have been treated like you were dumb and/or less than other students because you didn’t connect to your schooling “the correct way”? You fit in too

Constantly changing your aesthetic because something else seems cool

You read those “tea or coffee?” things and scoff because who can decide? 

Going feral over abandoned buildings for no reason

Making bad jokes that most other people don’t get because they’re about really niche topics 

Whenever someone asks you about a book you’re reading or what you’re studying you panic and say something nonsensical 

Coming up with or researching conspiracy theories, but more about small local things like why there are never major storms in your town than big conspiracies like the moon landing 

Not that you can’t also be into the big conspiracy theories

Being either ridiculously emotional all the time or being completely devoid of emotions all the time. 

[intheticklecloset]

My Hero Academia Sentence Starters #51-60

A collection of the MHA sentence starters I’ve done, compiled for the sake of ease. These are all stand-alone stories.

~~~

51) Lee Deku, Ler Shinsou

“I wonder where raspberries are the worst for you?”

Deku whimpered, squirming under Shinsou’s hold but not enough for it to really be considered trying to get away. “I-I don’t know…” he admitted, flushing bright pink. “Why don’t you find out?”

Shinsou chuckled lowly. “With pleasure.”

He raspberried Deku’s ribs, his sides, his belly, even his hips. All of it made the poor boy scream and laugh and plead, though it was obvious he was having just as much fun as his boyfriend was.

His screaming turned to shrieking, however, when Shinsou switched from raspberries to nibbles along his hips and waistline. Deku bucked and thrashed, laughter bursting from him before he even realized it himself. He barely had enough breath to beg for mercy. “NONONO!! NOHOHOHOT – NOT THAHAHAHAHA – SHIHIHIHIHINSOHOHAHAHAHA!!”

“Hmm, nibbles really tickle, huh?” Shinsou teased, but he let up and allowed Deku to breathe. “I want to try one more spot. Okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” Deku giggled, unable to take his eyes from Shinsou’s. “Go for it.”

Shinsou leaned down to nuzzle under his ear, then pressed his lips to his neck and blew another raspberry.

“EEEEK!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku laughed, bucking his hips again, digging his heels into the bedsheets. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“Oh, I see~” Shinsou teased into his ear. “So that’s where raspberries really get to you, huh?”

“Sh-Shinsou,” Deku said breathlessly, lungs gasping for breath. “Toshi, please…”

Shinsou tightened his grip on Deku’s arms. “Just one more. But don’t worry – I’ll make it count.”

*

52) Lee Bakugou, Lers Kirishima and Uraraka

“You know, you’re a lot cuter than you realize.”

The words were spoken so casually, it threw Bakugou entirely off his game. He blinked. “What?”

Kiri and Uraraka exchanged smiles, turning their loving gazes back down to their boyfriend, who lay on the bed with his arms pinned above his head. He’d been bracing himself for something a little – well, rough – but now they were telling him he was cute? Bakugou was beyond unprepared for that.

“She’s right,” Kiri agreed, nodding, using a single finger to trace down his exposed frame from his underarm to his hip. “I certainly think you’ve got a cute belly.” That finger started tracing circles around his belly button. “Don’t you agree, Ochaco?”

“Definitely.” Uraraka beamed when Bakugou started letting out little huffs of air, squirming beneath them both. “But you know, his laugh is the cutest~”

“No,” Bakugou pleaded, smiling wide despite himself. “Plehehease, don’t…”

Kiri dipped his finger into the blonde’s belly button. “Aw, but you love it, Katsuki~”

“Nohohohohoho!”

“Yes, you do~” Uraraka teased, leaning down to kiss his neck and ears, making him flush a dark red at the double dose of tickly, teasy attention. He’d never admit it, but it made him incredibly flustered and he could never get enough of it. “You love it when we tickle you and tease you, baby~”

“Dohohohohon’t call me thahahat.” He tried to snap at her, but it came out as more of a pleading whine, and her return smirk nearly melted him right then and there. “Plehehehease…”

“Oh, Kiri,” Uraraka hummed, looking at the redhead with a sweet smile. “I think he wants tickles, don’t you?”

Bakugou flushed even deeper.

“I think so, too.” Kiri beamed, leaving the blonde’s belly button to scratch at his ribs. “Do you think we should indulge him?”

Bakugou squirmed beneath them both, already giggling quietly. “Guys…”

Uraraka joined in, tickling his ribs on the other side, and their boyfriend finally gave up the fight and let out a string of happy laughter, showing his teeth in a bright smile. “Yes. Let’s indulge our adorable little blasty boy~”

*

53) Lee Amajiki, Ler Mirio

“Laugh for me! I know you have it in you~” Mirio teased, easily pinning Amajiki’s arms above his head and digging a single finger into the boy’s side.

Amajiki was smiling so wide it almost hurt, but he wasn’t laughing – yet. Despite himself he was desperately trying to remain in control for as long as possible. He knew his blonde friend would break him eventually, and when he did, he’d be happy to crumble. But the fight was part of the fun of surrender, so he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head defiantly.

Mirio sighed playfully. “Don’t make me make it worse.”

Amajiki whimpered, but internally he was cheering. Yes, yes, make it worse! Make me laugh!

“All right, you asked for it.” The blonde straddled his knees and dug his thumb into the meat of his friend’s thigh, and that was it. The dam burst.

Amajiki laughed.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” He shrieked, letting himself give in at last, squealing and squirming and laughing to his heart’s content. All the while Mirio grinned down at him, still pinning him in place, forcing him to take it. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! MIHIHIHIRIO!!”

“Yes?~” Mirio hummed, letting his arms go to tickle both thighs at once, laughing with him when he screamed with hysterics. “Feeling better now?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHES!! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“Should I keep going?”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Mirio beamed. He loved that he was able to make his friend so happy with something so simple. Not to mention, it was good to hear Amajiki let loose and laugh for once. “Then you don’t have to tell me twice!”

*

54) Lee Deku, Lers Bakugou and Shinsou

“Oh yeah? I bet I know how to tickle him better than you do.”

Shinsou snapped his eyes to Bakugou, glaring at him. “I dare you to say that again.”

“Please. I’ve known that nerd since childhood. You’ve been dating for what – six months? Give me a break. I can make him laugh harder, mark my words.”

“It’s not about making him laugh hard, it’s about making him desperate for it to stop. Light tickles are effective in that regard, too.”

“Uh…g-guys?” Deku stammered, looking between them nervously. “You’re both good at tickling me…”

“There’s only one way to settle this,” Bakugou growled.

Shinsou nodded. “I agree.”

Suddenly Deku was pinned on his back on the floor, his childhood best friend at his right and his current boyfriend on his left. Both of them wore matching menacing, challenging smirks.

“May the best man win,” Shinsou said.

“I intend to,” Bakugou retorted.

Then both of them were tickling Deku – four hands of twenty fingers drilling all over from his underarms to his sides, hips, knees, and everywhere else they could reach, drawing giggle after squeal after loud, screaming plea from him as he squirmed and thrashed but went absolutely nowhere.

At first it was a total blast, having both of them tickle him together. But even he had his limits, and within a few minutes his pleading became genuine.

“STAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE ANY MOHOHOHOHOHORE!!”

“Who’s better?” Bakugou demanded.

“BOHOHOHOHOHOTH OF YOU!!”

“That’s not good enough,” Shinsou replied, smiling. Truly, he didn’t care if Bakugou was better than him. If anything, it motivated him to find all the little ways to make Deku completely helpless to his tickling in the future. “Pick one.”

Deku laughed and laughed and laughed, but he knew he couldn’t make a choice. Either way he’d hurt someone’s feelings – or even make them angry – and that was the last thing he wanted. So it looked like he was going to have to hold out a while longer…

*

55) Lee Deku, Ler Todoroki

“Oh, yeah, raspberries are a killer right here, huh?” Todoroki murmured, blowing another one on Deku’s hip bone, making his poor boyfriend screech with laughter. “Hmm~ Tickle, tickle, Izuku~”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!!” Deku cried, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. He tugged on his restraints – a pair of ice shackles Todoroki had attached to the headboard of his bed – and watched helplessly as Todoroki flashed him a wicked smile and then did it again, flat-out ignoring his begging. “SHOHOHOHOHOHOTO!!”

Todoroki finally sat up, gently tracing his fingers along Deku’s sides. “All right, I’ll give you a short break. But just a short one. You doing okay?”

Deku nodded, giggling, grateful for the respite. He’d been more than willing to allow Todoroki to explore his interest in tickling this way, since it made him so happy and Deku didn’t mind being tickled. But it was still nice to actually be able to breathe now and then. “Y-You’re…you’re ruthless,” he stammered, blushing. “You like it a lot, don’t you?”

“Tickling you into screaming my name like that?” Todoroki smiled, digging a finger into his belly button. “Heck yeah.”

“Ehehehehehehehe!” Deku squirmed, tugging on his restraints again, both impressed and intimidated by how strong they were. For all of his thrashing, they hadn’t even shown signs of wearing down or melting at all. It was amazing, really. “Shohohohoto!”

“Thanks for letting me do this,” Todoroki murmured, his voice more sincere now. “I really love getting you riled up like this. But if you need me to stop for real, use the safe word, okay? I don’t want to go too far.”

Deku smiled at him, touched. “I will. But don’t worry – I can take a little more. So, Shoto, is that all you got? You can make me laugh harder than that, can’t you?”

The fire in Todoroki’s eyes blazed to life, and his return smile was everything to Deku. “Oh, I’m sure I can find new and creative ways to break you down.”

*

56) Lee Deku, Ler Shinsou

“Let’s play a game,” Shinsou said. “One of us pretends to be an animal. The other has to guess what kind of animal they are.”

Deku smiled at the silliness of it, but nodded anyway. “Sure. You go first, since it’s your idea.”

Shinsou got on his hands and knees and barked.

Deku laughed. “A dog. That was easy!”

“Your turn.” Shinsou smiled. Deku did the same thing, but meowed instead. “A cat. All right, wise guy, let’s see if you can guess this next one.” He straightened but stayed on his knees, bringing his arms up to form “claws” and growling low in his throat.

Deku smirked. “A bear.” But Shinsou shook his head, making him pause to think a little more. “Uhh, a gorilla? A rabid kangaroo?”

Shinsou lunged for him then, still growling, pinning Deku’s arms down and gently nibbling his teeth into his ribs, “eating” him. Deku burst into giggles. “Come on, Midoriya, what am I?”

“Ahahahahahahaha! I dohohohohohon’t knohohohow! A lihihihihion?!”

“Nope.”

“Alligator?!”

“Nope!” Shinsou moved further down to his hips. “What kind of animal specifically goes for your ticklish spots and wrecks you like this?”

Deku squealed, throwing his head back to unleash a bout of laughter that lasted several seconds before he found the breath to reply, “MOHOHOHOHONSTER!! TIHIHIHIHICKLE MONSTER!!”

“That’s right!” Shinsou cheered, shoving his arms above his head and continuing to nibble at his neck and ears. Deku squirmed helplessly beneath him, lost to his own hysterics.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHA BUT I GOHOHOHOT IT RIHIHIHIHIHIGHT!!”

“Didn’t I tell you? The penalty for each wrong guess is five minutes of tickling.”

“FOR EHEHEHEHEACH ONE?!”

“For each one. So that’s, what – twenty-five minutes of tickle torture?” Shinsou settled his weight on Deku’s hips, enjoying the distressed squeal that came out of his boyfriend. “Better get comfortable, Midoriya. We’re gonna be here a while~”

*

57) Lee Todoroki, Ler Sero

“What? I’m only fixing this very squirmy bed cover!” Sero grinned at the moving lump underneath the comforter of his bed where Todoroki had very poorly tried to hide from him not a minute before.

Todoroki shrieked. “Stahahahahahap! Sero, it tihihihihihihihickles!”

“It does?” Sero laughed, hopping onto the bed to pin down the open end of the comforter, further trapping his friend and blindly reaching for where he thought the half-and-half’s torso was. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have run away.”

“Y-Yohohohohohou were gohohohohoing to t-tihihickle me!”

“And by running you only put off the inevitable.” Sero smirked. Todoroki squealed and went limp under the covers, presumably using all of his energy to laugh after a particularly bad spot was found. “Aww, did I getcha, Shoto?”

“Plehehehehehehehease!” Todoroki cried, sounding like he was gasping for breath. “I cahahahan’t breathe under hehehehehere!”

Sero frowned, worried, and quickly climbed off the bed so he could yank the comforter down and reveal the top half of a very disheveled-looking Todoroki. Before he could recover, the tape hero straddled his waist and hooked his fingers under his arms. “Tickle, tickle!”

“GAH!!” Todoroki tried arching his back, but when that did him no good he flopped helplessly onto the mattress and gave in, surrendering to his laughter as Sero tickled him silly. “Ahahahahahaha! Plehehehehehease, stop! Sehehehehero!”

“But you look like you’re having so much fun!”

A dark red blush bloomed on Todoroki’s cheeks. “Am nohohohohohot!”

“Now you’re lying to me?” Sero tsked. “You know I’m just going to punish you even more for that transgression.”

Todoroki looked elated despite himself. “Nohohohohohohohoho!”

Sero chuckled. “I think you mean yes.”

*

58) Lee Kaminari, Ler Ojiro

“No, no – you don’t get to hide your face.” Ojiro grabbed Kaminari’s wrists and pulled his hands away from his bright pink cheeks and wide smile, pinning them on either side of his head while his tail continued to lightly tickle his belly and belly button. “There we go.”

“No fahahahahahair,” Kami whined through his giggles, squirming but going nowhere fast. Ojiro was looming over him, grinning that wicked grin of his, using his tactical advantage against his friend in the worst – best? – way possible.

“I think it’s perfectly fair.” Ojiro smiled, trailing the fluff on his tail over Kami’s sides next, making the blonde beneath him jerk first to one side, then the other, then back again, giggling all the while. “Besides, you like gentle tickles, don’t you?”

“Behehehehetter than mehehehehean ones.”

“Mean tickles? You mean…on your knees?” Ojiro had his tail trail downwards to said spot.

Kami’s eyes widened. “Nohohohohohoho!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” The tail traveled back up, settling on the dip of his hips where his shorts had ridden down slightly. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~ You like that? My tail just liiiightly tickling you to make you smile? That’s what you really love, isn’t it?”

Kaminari was bright pink by now. “Shuhuhuhuhut up…”

“Oh, but you like the teasing even more, don’t you?” Ojiro’s smile became absolutely evil. “You wouldn’t mind if I stopped tickling you as long as I kept teasing, right?” He did just that, letting his tail hover in the air behind him as he teased an increasingly flustered Kaminari with just his words. “Do you miss it already? The tickling? Or would you prefer I just keep teasing you about how cute you look, all flustered like that?”

The electric hero whined, squirming under his fellow blonde’s tight hold. “P-Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what?”

“T-Tickling me.”

Ojiro chuckled, then started dusting his tail along Kami’s shins, making him giggle all over again. “You asked for it~”

*

59) Lee Shinsou, Ler Deku

“You’re not squirming away, smug for brains,” Deku laughed, pulling Shinsou in close and kissing the space between his shoulder blades as his fingers skittered along his ribs. “Come here! Take my tickly love!”

“Ehehehehahahahahaha!” Shinsou squealed, kicking wildly and messing up the blankets, but neither of them cared about that right now. The taller boy was currently the little spoon in their cuddling position, and with Deku’s arms wrapped around him in tandem with the tickly kisses along his back, he was going nowhere fast. The gentle assault was making him incredibly flustered and helplessly giggly. “Nahahahahahahaha! I-Izuhuhuhuku!”

“Take it!” Deku continued to laugh with him, moving his kisses up to the base of his neck. “Take my love!” His hands wandered down to pinch at a hip. “Take it, Shinsou!”

Shinsou was an incoherent mess, giggles and laughter intermixing with unintelligible pleas – though whether they were pleas to stop or keep going neither of them could tell.

Deku chose to do the latter, scooting his body up so he could reach Shinsou’s ears with his kisses while continuing to pinch and scribble along his hip bone. “It’s so cute that you’re so ticklish up here,” he mused with his own giggle. “You can’t even speak when I’m getting you like this.”

“S-S-Stahahahahahaha! Plehehehahahahahaha!” Shinsou was lost in his own laughter and loving every second, secretly hoping his boyfriend would never stop. “Zuku, nahahahahahahahaha!”

Deku couldn’t help but laugh, hugging him even closer and nibbling at the base of his ear, drawing a loud screech and even more frantic cackles from the completely helpless Shinsou. “Take my love, Toshi~ My tickly, tickly love for you~”

*

60) Lee Kaminari, Ler Jirou

“What are we, five years old now?”

Jirou grunted as she struggled to pin him. “You act like enough of a five-year-old for the both of us.”

“I do not!”

“Do, too.” She finally managed to overpower him just long enough to grab his foot and scribble her fingers over it.

Denki squeaked, releasing her instinctively and then immediately wishing he hadn’t, as he’d just lost any and all leverage he may have had over her. “Nohohohoho, Jirou!”

“That’s more like it.” She settled in on his ankles and dragged her nails up and down his bare soles. “Take this, genius.”

“Nahahahahahahaha!” He flailed in the grass, wishing it wasn’t so hot out that he’d decided to go out in only his shorts this afternoon to tan. Jirou was in shorts and a tank-top as well, but that did him little good when he was at her mercy instead of the other way around! “Plehehehehehease, no! I’ll do anythihihihihing!”

Jirou smirked at him over her shoulder. “Anything?”

“Yehehehehehes!”

“What if what I want to do is tickle you silly, Denks?”

He flashed her a brief, wide-eyed look before covering his face with his hands and groaning. “Ugh, the thihihihihings I dohohohoho for you, Kyoka.”

She beamed. “Aww, how sweet. Don’t worry…I won’t tickle you too bad~”

[lupinsspadfoot]

Orange Trees and Royalty - A Wilmon Drabble

I would recommend listening to my light academia playlist whilst reading this, specifically Sweet Creature, Today Was a Fairytale, Northern Italy, and You Are In Love...

As Simon looks up, his eyes open in absolute wonder and amazement, and he swears he’s never seen anything more spectacular in his life. Gorgeous windows lining the outside up to the third story, the gold trimming painted on them glowing against the sunlight. He could make out the lacey curtains behind them, and the corners of his mouth turn up shyly at the thought of Wilhelm’s bedroom hidden behind one of those curtains. The lush green grass is perfectly trimmed, so bright and inviting against the pale cream walls of the Palace. He wants to take his shoes off and run across the lawn, feel how each blade would feel in between his toes as he skipped along and brushed his fingertips across the foliage of the trees.

But he knew better.

Now was the time for proper manners and tucked-in shirts and warm smiles full of grace and poise. Not childish behaviours that could end up flooding every news website in Sweden. He could just see the headline now: “Boyfriend of His Royal Highness, Prince Wilhelm, runs like a crazed monkey across the front lawn on his first visit to Stockholm Palace.”

Exactly what he doesn’t need right now.

Simon feels a hand on his back, and he turns to see the driver, a polite smile on his face as he begins to make his way toward the Palace. Simon, however, feels frozen in his spot. His grubby vans and green shirt feel so plain and out of place compared to the magnificent building in front of him. And suddenly, he wants to run home and change, or smooth out his wrinkled shirt, or put a buttoned-up blazer on. Or do anything to make him feel like he actually belongs here.

He turns his gaze away from the driver and up to the castle, and there he is. Prince Wilhelm. The lace curtain of the very left window on the third floor is pushed to the side, and all Simon can see is that mop of blonde and that toothy smile, and it’s exactly what he needs. The face of the boy he loves is enough to settle any single shred of doubt in his chest.

As a small smile settles on his face, Simon closes his eyes. Breathes in deeply. Takes in the scent of that perfectly cut grass and the orange trees and the pure dense amount of royalty surrounding him. And with a final breath, his eyes are open and his feet are moving and off he goes. Towards the front doors to fucking Stockholm Palace.

He doesn’t even need to knock. A rustle comes from inside the Palace, and suddenly the doors are shoved open and Wilhelm is rushing forwards, crashing into his boyfriends’ frame and almost knocking him over. Simon quickly wraps his arms around the taller boy whilst attempting to steady his balance, not wanting to look like a complete mess in front of the paparazzi—who are waiting by the car, cameras firmly grasped in hand as they snap shots. But it would seem the other boy has plans of his own.

All too quickly, their lips are pressed together, and giggles are escaping mouths and fingers are running through hair and happiness is spreading through chests.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Wilhelm says excitedly, pressing multiple kisses to Simon’s cheeks before giving them a gentle pinch. Simon lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, his dark curls covering his eyes, and he’s doing everything he can to not make a total ass out of himself in front of all of Sweden. But, God, he hasn’t seen Wilhelm since they graduated. Three whole months of being stuck in Bjärstad. And now that he’s finally here, he wants nothing more than to keep pressing their lips together.

But, again, Wilhelm most definitely has plans of his own. He grabs Simon's hand and pulls the shorter boy up the path and through the giant front doors he had just burst through. Then, without waiting for the driver to enter the Palace, Wilhelm pushes the doors closed and doesn’t waste a second before his lips are on Simon’s again, warm fingers gripping his boyfriends’ shirt and pulling him closer than ever. And Simon simply melts into it, his hands making their way from Wilhelm’s shoulders, sliding up to his neck and eventually resting on his jaw, his fingertips scratching at the base of his hairline.

They stay like that for what feels like forever, basking in the warm embrace of the person they love the most, mouths open and hearts beating so hard against each other’s chests.

And it’s a small cough that interrupts them. Simon lets out a groan of frustration. He turns, and it’s the driver, standing there with his eyes looking up at the roof and his hands locked together in front of him.

“Uh, did you still need me, Your Highness?” The driver questions, his gaze still averted. A small chuckle of embarrassment escapes Simon’s lips, and he rests his forehead on Wille’s shoulder.

“That’ll be all, thank you, Isak.” Wilhelm reaches his arm out, and the two shake hands before Isak nods his head and walks across the foyer of the Palace and through another door.

“Thank you, Isak,” Simon mocks in between giggles.

“Argh, shut up!” Wilhelm laughs, pressing more kisses to the other boys’ cheeks. Finally, he grabs Simon’s hand and starts to pull him further into the foyer towards more doors. “C’mon, I want to show you the grounds. They’re so pretty in summer.”

“Not as pretty as you,” Simon says quietly, lifting their intertwined hands and kissing the back of Wilhelm’s, who stops before they reach a large wooden door. The smile on his face is one full of amusement and raised eyebrows, and a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“That was so gross.”

Before Simon has time to respond, Wilhelm has dragged them through the door to reveal the back gardens, and Simon’s eyes are even wider than when he first pulled up to the estate. Small garden beds full of flowers and orange trees are placed all over the grounds, some with bird baths, others with a lemon or an apple tree next to the oranges, one even with a small river running through it. There is a brick pathway leading to an ample outdoor dining space with a huge wooden table, able to seat at least 50 people. Vines of ivy crawling up the archways with fairy lights hanging from the wooden beams above the table. The lawns are even lusher than the front garden, stretching on for a few hundred metres before it turns into the biggest lake Simon has ever seen, giant fir trees surrounding the body of water. There are two boats on the lake tied to the small pier, rocking back and forth slowly with the gentle breeze. To the left of the lake are tennis courts, and on the other side, Simon can see the pool that’s beyond the dining space—so large he’s sure that all 50 people who join them for dinner outside could also hop into the pool together after they eat.

Simon is in a state of wonder and amazement as he looks over the grounds, and everything is so perfect. And the boy holding his hand next to him makes everything feel even more perfect if that’s at all possible.

“Holy shit,” Simon breathes out. Next to him, Wilhelm chuckles. “I think I chose the right boyfriend.”

Wilhelm gives him a small shove, a huge toothy grin plastered on his face. “Hey, if I had known you were just after me for my money, I would never have kissed you first!”

“Well, good news for you then, because I kissed you first,” Simon says matter-of-factly. He licks his lips and juts them out, knowing just how much it drives his boyfriend crazy and also how badly he wants to win this faux argument.

It takes Wilhelm a few seconds of staring at Simon’s lips before licking his own and letting out a huff. “You so did not. You were walking away, and I pulled you back, and then I kissed you first.” He runs both his hands through his hair, letting the strands fall into his eyes—his own move that he knows Simon loves.

And Simon does. And he’s weak, and he can’t be bothered with this fake argument anymore. And now that there’s no press around, Simon wants to have some fun. So he kicks off his vans and takes off his socks, then, with a turn of his head, he’s off, running across the grounds towards the pool. His laugh rings through the air as he looks behind him to see Wilhelm chasing him.

“Come and get me!” He calls. “C’mon, Prince Wille, keep up!” Cheeky giggles escape his lips, and as he reaches the pool, he slows down and turns around. Wilhelm is catching up, and Simon makes the quick decision to start running again, this time towards the pier. After graduating from Hillerska, Simon had stopped rowing, and therefore his fitness levels had significantly dropped, and right now, he could definitely feel it. The aches in his legs, the heaving of his chest, the warmth in his face. But this is just too fun, and the blades of grass feel even better between his toes than he could have imagined.

Wilhelm’s footsteps are getting closer as Simon is closing in on the pier. He slows to a stop just before the small wooden bridge, his feet still firmly placed in the grass and his breaths coming out heavily. He watches his boyfriend running towards him, and he shouts, “Is that all you’ve got, Your Royal Highness?!” Laughs are escaping both their lips, and Wilhelm is slowing down as he gets closer to Simon.

Both boys stand silently for a moment as they try to catch their breath, huffs of air coming in and out of their mouths quickly. “You’re an asshole,” Wille says, the smile not leaving his face for a second as he runs his hands through Simon’s curls to mess them up.

“Good thing you love my asshole then, hey?” Simon replies, swatting his boyfriends’ hands away, a frustrated grunt escaping his lips.

“God! Shut up!”

Not giving him a second to reply, once again, Wilhelm’s lips are on Simon’s. And once again, they both melt into it instantly. And once again, it’s cut far too short then either of them would like. Simon feels a drop of something wet on his cheek, and as he pulls his mouth away from Wilhelm's, he wipes his cheek and looks up to the sky. Among their little running adventure, huge grey clouds have taken over the sky, angry and threatening to begin pouring at any moment.

And soon, that one drop becomes two, then three, then too many raindrops for Simon to keep count of. And they’re in his hair, and on Wilhelm’s cheeks, and Simon’s on hands, and covering Wilhelm’s shoulders.

And from head to toe, the two boys stand by the pier, sopping wet and completely drenched, Simon’s bare feet beginning to feel numb from the now wet and cold blades of grass. The summer sun is still beating down on them, warming their cheeks as they tip their foreheads so they’re touching, sounds of laughter and happiness tumbling out of their lips.

“I can’t believe I had to go without you for 3 whole months,” Wilhelm says, pressing a quick kiss to Simon’s lips.

“I guess we better go inside and make up for lost time,” Simon giggles in reply, returning Wille’s kiss with one of his own, slightly longer this time, however, and followed up by many more chaste kisses.

It felt like they were in their own world, just the two of them, alone finally, running around the Stockholm Palace gardens hand-in-hand. Not a care in the world. No school. No drama. No press surrounding them. They finally had their own little bubble of happiness to enjoy. And not just for a weekend or a two-week break this time, but for the entire summer. And damnit, were they going to make this the best summer of their lives.

[fiore-rosewood9]

Not really a hot take or a controvertial opinion but will definetly offend some - Why aesthetics should include everyone but also not. Not everything is meant to be enjoyed by everyone

About aesthetics, no person is one or two aesthetics, everyone I know has a lot of clothes, some timeless and some are more trendy, but no one sticks to a whole lifestyle, actually a lot of the ''trends'' change fast due to tiktok, the same people that preached about cottagecore and dark academia in 2019, preached about the coconut girl in 2020 and now in 2021 suddenly everyone is ''that girl'' or something, no one in reality is really that positive and healthy, we all can benefit from self improvement but no one stays happy 100 percent all the time.

Aesthetics should include black, asian, latino and eastern european people, but unfortunetly wide arrange of the demographic is skinny white women with blue/green/grey eyes and blonde or brown straight hair. I know grunge was a big thing in the 2014-2016 era where girls with dyed hair and pastel goth and tattoos were on trend and all, but aesthetics are a lot more than just buying a new wardrobe every season. For example art h6e was popularized by black people but it became mainstream due to many pictures of white girls on pinterest. Kind of like white girls stealing box braids from black people and pretending they are cool, when in reality those don't work on thin hair.

Due to the inflantion it is not really the wisest thing to buy new clothes you will just throw away in a few months, buy an accesory or a blouse and integrate it into your wardrobe and climate so it would make sense to you if you want to participate in the trend so badly, but buying new clothes only brings more pollution, as more and more clothes are thrown away and also made from less natural fabrics, which are sometimes not produced ethically and make you scratch your self, because it is not cotton or silk.

You shouldn't be offended if some cores exclude you? Why? Well imagine there is a core made for neurodivergent people? Like changeling core is that, as far as I understand from folklore changelings are children that were put by fairies or demons or goblins, basically they kidnap the child of the parents. In the past people did not have an explanation for mental illness or anything, so someone who had an epilepsy for example, was seen as posessed by demons, I have read texts during history lessons that they ''cured that'' with killing a lamb or other animal and making the person drink the blood. Anything out of the ordinary or weird was looked as bad in the past, and while we might call these people ''Quirky'' or whatever term is used now, in the past a woman just understanding math could mean people would put the label - witch, on her.

When people didn't understand things, they turned to god, demons, other deities, etc. So like....if you are not neurodivergent, you can just get any other aesthetic? Princesscore, witchcore, piratecore, idk, the wiki has more than enough to choose from, so you shouldn't really be offended that neurodivergent people who continue to be mercilessly bullied and tortured and stalked in school because they struggle to make friends and socialize sometimes which gets them labels as weird, annoying, a nuisance, can finally find a place in the world where there is an aesthetic made for them where they can express them selves. If you are so offended, you can just do fairy grunge or cottagecore, it has a similar vibe and it is for neurotypical.

For someone who has no severe anxiety and social issues, you sure do take a lot of offence for some mere aesthetic. I know I should let people ''enjoy things'' but some things are meant to be enjoyed by certain people only, kind of like if you get everything given to you, on a silver plate at any time, and if someone else who has gotten bones and left overs, gets decent food for once in their life, you don't have the human right to want their food, because you have lavish food and plates and glasses, all of your life, and never had to fought in life, so you get agressive each time someone says no, and act like a 5 year old and stomp with your leg and scream. The same goes for anime, and shoujo games.But I won't elaborate since people only become pissy if I ever mention it. I am sorry but this is the only valid opinion I am going to listen to after years of bs by people who had everthing given to them in life and bragged how they had xbox or their dad drives a bmv and how they can go to italy 3 times a year, but can't fix one broken lamp or cook one meal for them selves if they need to. Apperently hanging out and taking selfies in the toilet is a bit more important for survival than working organs, food and clean water.

[rintarous]

fuckboy!tendou

[ masterlist ] + LAST INSTALMENT FOR ME D: hope you all enjoyed them ! <3 ++ BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIRACLE BOY, SATORI!!!!! 

kageyama | kita | osamu | suna  

miracle boy tendou satori

the shameless fuckboy

this sexy ass mf 

bed monster is what people describe him 

rumor has it that he breaks beds on the daily 

people claim he’s a literal god at sex 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

this all started when he ran out of hair wax and entered school with his hair down

hair down!tendou hits different

next thing he knew bitches were lining up to him giving him gifts or bluntly flirting with him

since then he kept his hair down at all times

but when he doesn’t feel like,,, attending people’s needs,, he puts it up like usual heh

and ofc my dude enjoyed every attention he got

he’s winking left to right at any passersby who look at his direction

making that person simp for him

tendou tingz ✨ 

anywho

he loves seeing his fling walk awkwardly after the cute lil activity they did the night before

but the downside to being his fling, after your quick heaven, he ghosts on you

💀💀💀

you might be wondering what do i mean by he’s the shameless fuckboy right?? well,,,,,

lets say he sees his ex fling out in the open, he’d shout shit like

“AYO BABYGIRL HOW HAVE YOU BEEN? BEEN A WHILE SINCE OUR LAST FUCK” 

embarrassing not only himself but the fling in general

but ppl think hes joking cs he lets out a loud ass laugh after saying that almost as if hes joking

which in his case.. he’s not 🤡

hes so shameless that he’d fuck with his flings in his dorm room that he shares with ushijima wakatoshi himself 

tendou has the top bunk so they fuck up there while ushjima has his earphones on full blast watching volleyball matches on his phone, completely ignoring the squeaking and shaking bed jesus christ

please send help to ushiwaka 2020

there are some days where tendou just feels,,, empty inside

despite having a line of fangirls wanting him

but he knows they just want him for his body and not who truly is

so when days like that ^^ happens, he just stays quiet and close off everyone around him

(also keeps his hair up lol)

anyway

during his emo days, you just somehow miraculously tripped over your own feet

in front of him

but thanks to tendou’s fast reflexes he caught your arm just in time before you kiss the cold hard floor

it took a big fat minute for you two to understand what was going on

tendou snaps out of his lil trance and helps you get back on your feet

“you okay there?” he would ask, his eyes filled with concern

by now you’ve realized what happened and you were now blushing to no ends

“uhh.. yeah thanks!” you blushed, rushing away from him and yet you almost trip over yourself AGAIN but this time you caught yourself 

tendou watches you walk away from him with a small smile

“she’s cute...” he thinks to himself before going back to his sulky mode 

the next day rolls in and he’s no longer in his emo mode so he’s back to being his fuckboy ass self

though the interaction with you is still lingering in the back of his head

so there he was,, minding his own business ya know the drill 

winking and flirting with anyone and anything 

yk fuckboy things

til you tapped his shoulder

he swirls around his chair to offer a smirk but a small gasp escaped from his mouth instead

its you !!! 

ok ngl this dude’s mood just went through the roof he’s so happy to see you again and the fact you reached out to him 

“i kinda feel bad for you know.. you witnessing me trip over my own feet and you kinda helped me and now i feel even more bad so can i buy you something from the cafe downstairs as a form of a thank you..?” you say, fiddling with your hands

which tendou noticed btw 

“so like a date?” tendou jokes 

was it getting hot in the classroom or was that just your face burning in embarrassment

“ah! n-no! of course not” you waved your hands around (see: midoriya)

tendou lets out a grin, “i’m kidding and sure. let’s just eat lunch together” he smiles 

lunch time rolls in and you and tendou walk inside the cafe the school had together

you were kinda skittish cs people were staring at you like some sort of prey

to which he tells you its because of him 

“it’s because of me haha sorry bout that” he giggles, ordering himself a latte and whatever you order

you knew about his reputation

that was mainly the reason why you ran away from him the day you tripped over your own feet but he caught you

but surprisingly he’s actually a really nice person !

he’s got that quirky personality with amazing humor that gets you laughing at anything he says

and he reads mangas too!!

though you only read my hero academia and bungo stray dogs,, you two still got along because of that

“who’s your favorite character in my hero?” he asks, his eyes sparkling

“definitely bakugo for sure” you say in awe, dreamily thinking about bakugo 

“i like the protagonist! deku is that bitch”  he shares, staring at you in the eyes

“what about in stray dogs?” this time it was your turn to ask

“hmm...” he thinks for a moment, “akutagawa” he answers

“holy shit same! but i like dazai too” 

in the end you two skipped classes and just stayed in the cafe til it was dark out either talking about mangas or just getting to know each other

this also means he walked you back to your dorm

“this is me.. hehe” you giggled, scratching the back of your head sheepishly as you two stop at the girls dormitory building

“see you around y/n-chan~ goodnight” tendou waves as he walks back to his dorm

after that tendou’s fuckboy habits have noticeably decreased

he barely talks or entertains his flings or girls who are after him in general

and his eyes and his overall demeanour would lighten up if he sees you or he talks to you

it was actually really sweet

“so no new chick on your radar these past few weeks?” you ask as you stared at him while eating your pasta

tendou sighs dreamily, “yep” he says popping the ‘p’ at the end

“that’s strange. aren’t you in your eye candy form right now?” you raised a brow, ruffling his already messy hair 

“i mean.. yeah i am in eye candy form” he winks making you giggle

his favorite sound

you resumed eating your pasta and tendou does the same til suddenly this bitch starts making beeping noises

“BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP” tendou beeps(?)

“what the fuck satori” you laughed out loud, almost choking on your food

“my chick radar detected a chick!” he exclaims, pointing his fingers around as if it’s pinpointing the target

then his finger stops at you

you turned around in case there was someone behind you til you realized it was only the two of you in the cafe

(you two skipped classes again)

“me?” you point to yourself in shock

“no i meant the ghost behind you. what’s up casper?” he says with the most deadpan expression, “of course it’s you!” 

“you’re really cute and i like being around you” he shyly confessed, ruffling his hair as force of habit when he’s nervous

you stared at him in shock, still not processing his confession

tendou takes a peek at your shocked expression on the corner of his eye, “its okay if you don’t feel the same i was just sayi-”

you shut him up by giving him a kiss on the cheek

“lucky for you, i like you too” you blushed

“you do?!” now it was his turn to be shocked

“no” you blep at him making him laugh

“didn’t think you’d take revenge on me you meanie” he pouts, tucking your hair behind your ear as you smile widely at your new boyfriend

[cloud-9ine]

Through a Golden Lens (pt 1)

⤷ pairing - hawks x (fem) reader

⤷ fandom - bnha 

⤷ warnings - some language, hawks flirting, reader’s cynicism 

⤷ summary - reader is a bitter, overworked photographer at a hero press agency with little patience for her newly assigned muse- hawks

⤷ word count - 4.5k+

⤷ notes - i have lots of ideas so this is probably going to be a multi-part series. also new to tumblr so this might not be the best

⤷ pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

“Mr. Hawks! Please look this way!” his heavy lidded eyes rolled to the side as another blinding flash burned through his vision. 

“You look perfect, thank you!” it was hard to smile for their benefit, but he managed. Hawks had attended countless of these events for the press. It had been exhilarating at first, with the rush of adrenaline from the cameras and the lights and the endless stream of compliments solidifying his place in the public eye.

Nowadays, it was less thrilling. After a while, they all seemed the same- each one blurring into a senseless flare of cameras and hollow accolades.

He was bored, to say the least.

“Mr Hawks, would you like to come and see? I’d love to hear your opinion on this set!” with a practiced, easy smirk he nodded. It was easier to pander to the artist than to criticise their work. 

He looked good, but when did he not? The shoots were easy to glide through. All he had to do was pull a boyish grin, ‘make love to the camera’ as the photographers always liked to spout. It didn’t really matter what he did: the public would eat up anything with his face slapped on to the front. They all looked the same to him, anyway.

“Looks good,” he wondered why people were so easily satiated by shallow praises, but as he stared at the younger lady’s blush, he couldn’t help but realise that maybe it was him who had something to do with it.

Hawks couldn’t help his gaze from drifting to the door. His skin prickled in the humidity of all the moving bodies in one enclosed space and he longed to take a step outside and stretch his wings in a way that wasn’t to pose for a magazine. 

For a moment, he felt like his prayers had been answered when the door opened, letting in a stream of natural light to breach the artificiality of the modelling room. 

”(L/N)! You were supposed to be here over three hours ago!” the woman in front of him exclaimed, ripping the camera away from his view and marching to the figure that appeared in the light. He blinked in surprise: this entire shoot he hadn’t heard her raise her voice above anything but a low mumble when conversing with him, and now she was positively fuming.

You stared down at your co-worker through honey-tinted shades, expression unamused.

“Yeah, and I was also supposed to be out of this job three years ago. We don’t all do what we’re supposed to, cupcake.”

For a moment, Hawks thought you were a model. Tasteful cream turtleneck tucked into heavily creased mocha skirt, caramel beret perched on your head. There were a few metal, classy looking rings wrapped around your fingers, but as far as he could see, no wedding ring. It was pretty standard style for those who worked in the arts, but somehow you wore it so well. 

Your hair was a little dishevelled, and the dark circles under your eyes combined with the coffee cup in your hand were obvious signs of a rough night. His eyes locked on to the loopy black handwriting on the brown band around the cup.

(L/N) (Y/N)

You were no model, but Hawks couldn’t see the difference.

His wings beat lightly behind his back as he glided over, weaving through the other photographers and models scattered around the area. 

“Hey there, I’m Hawks,” he said smoothly, voice saccharine as he spoke to you. Your attention turned to him as you glanced at him from above the frames of your sunglasses, seemingly unimpressed.

“This the new boytoy, Mizuki?” you asked, eyes raking up and down his figure. Hawks was never one to shy away from the gaze of others, but the way you were inspecting him made him feel so exposed.

“Show some respect,” Mizuki muttered, voice lowered at Hawks’ presence but glare still piercing. You sighed, sparing one last glance at Hawks before snatching the camera out of Mizuki’s hands, leaving her scrambling for the device as you walked away.

“Lemme see what you’ve got already,” Mizuki’s face grew red, half from anger towards you, and half because of the embarrassment of being diminished in front of Hawks.

“(L/N) y-you can’t just come in three hours late and take over! I’ve already done the shoot and Hawks has already expressed that he is pleased with the outcome,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and shooting the shorter woman a glare over your shoulder.

“There’s no way you’re gonna force me to come into work and make me sit here doing nothing,” you sneered, waving the camera around almost teasingly, “you wanted someone actually skilled to do this shoot, and here I am. Let me do my thing,” without waiting for a response, you left, thumb fumbling with the dial that allowed you to scroll through the photos.

Hawks was impressed. You hadn’t bat an eye when you saw him, and while you were very clearly very late, you were confident in your skills and obviously took your job seriously.

“Who was that?” he questioned, wings spreading slightly as his eyes chased after you. Mizuki bowed her head, remorse filling her expression.

“I apologise for her impertinence. That’s (L/N), she was who your original photographer was supposed to be today, but when she didn’t show up I had to take over,” she huffed, “she’s been like this for about a year now, and the boss is prepared to fire her if she keeps it up. So you’d think she’d be able to pull her at together for you, Mr. Hawks...”

After a while, Hawks tuned out her whining, eyes curiously trained on you, surveying your furrowed brows and expression pinched with annoyance as you studied the photos. Although they looked good enough to him, it appeared that you didn’t share the same sentiment. 

Hawks didn’t have time to avert his eyes when you turned your head, gaze locking on to his. You raised a slightly suspicious brow, but otherwise didn’t entertain his actions. 

“Mizuki, why would you use cool lighting?” you called over your shoulder, not even sparing the decency to turn around and face the person you were addressing. Mizuki frowned, moving to your side. Like a magnet, Hawks did the same, peering over your other shoulder. You eyed him from the corner of your vision for a second before tapping the screen. 

“What do you mean?” you sighed at your co-workers words, evidently frustrated.

“Considering you have bird boy over here in dark academia, accented in warmer yellows, using cool lights will bring out too much of a contrast. We need to match the accent colours with warmer lighting, or use a overlay,” you muttered, seemingly addressing yourself more than the two of them. Mizuki just shook her head.

“That would just oversaturate the image,” you snorted, giving her the same patronising look an adult would give a child if they tried to outsmart them.

“Not necessarily. I could spot-reduce saturation in highlight areas during editing. Or, if you really want your contrast, I could neutralise the warmer shades by using a blue, or compliment them using a red,” Hawks didn’t miss the way you said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’. Mizuki looked agitated, her frown growing deeper.

“Even so, we only have white backdrops. That would be a jarring contrast. You’d need something darker or more clustered to make it work. If you wanted a backdrop change you probably should’ve come earlier,” she spoke with a formality that obviously stemmed from Hawks next to her, but you paid no mind. You were silent for a moment, and Hawks could see your eyes narrowing as you were thinking.

“I need a natural background, huh?” you mumbled, thumbing the buttons on the camera. With a shrug, “alright, bird boy, come on, we’re leaving,” Hawks blinked in surprise as you spun on your heel, a grin breaking onto his face. Finally, he got to leave.

“Whatever you say, boss,” you shot him an irritated look.

“Don’t call me that. I’m 22, not 40,” his feathers ruffled up. “Hey, I’m also 22! What a coincidence, right?” he grinned, winking at you. You just responded by rolling your eyes.

Mizuki spluttered, trying in vain to get either one of you to stop as Hawks trailed after you.

“L-Look, you can’t just leave-” you turned, shoving the camera back into her hands, a mirthless smile on your face.

“Watch me,” your voice was cold, goading her to try and stop you, “bird boy, out, now.” Hawks didn’t have to be told twice. Some of the others whispered and muttered as they realised what was going on, but they all fell quiet when you shot them a sharp glare.

He breathed in the fresh air with a content sigh, his chest feeling lighter now he was out the cramped room. The amber glow from the late afternoon sun kissed his tanned skin as he stretched his arms above his head, his forearms flexing slightly under his dark blazer. His eyes shut in bliss and head tilted back, exposing his sharp jawline.

You eyed him slightly, eyes trailing across his features. Now that you had actually left, you were a little lost on what your plan was. You didn’t regret storming out of there, though, nor did you even consider turning back to apologise.

You took your own camera out of the dark camera bag slung across your body, careful not to scratch it on the tripod, and focused the lens on Hawks. It was smaller, a little more compact than the ones Mizuki and the others were using, but you found that it was much better suited for portrait work. 

The click of the camera shutter brought Hawks out of his stupor, eyes snapping open and immediately landing on you. Your attention had already been diverted to the screen, studying your work. 

“The modelling room is stuffy, I’ll give you that,” you mumbled, zooming in on his face, “but you can stretch while we walk,” Hawks leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the shot.

“Aw, you make me look so good, I’m flattered!” you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be,” you took a large sip of your coffee, moving down the pathway as you thought. Hawks scrambled after you, his wings puffing out when he reached your side. You couldn’t help but gaze at the bright red feathers as he unfurled his wings, a small, happy chirping noise rumbling at the back of his throat once they were fully spread behind your back. They were warm, you noticed, feeling the heat through your turtleneck. 

Your vision was filled with a cheeky smirk painted on full lips, Hawks’ face appearing in front of your eyes. Your eyes narrowed as you sized him up.

“See something you like?” you rolled your eyes as he purred. 

“Not in the slightest, bird brain,” his wings beat behind his back, hand clutching the fabric on his chest.

“Oh, how you wound me!” Hawks cried, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly, which you quickly covered with your coffee cup. 

“I’m sure you’ll face a villain that will do greater damage than I could,” he hummed, angling his face towards the sun. 

“So, where are we headed?” you chewed on your bottom lip, slinging your camera over your shoulder. 

“It can’t be anywhere with lots of traffic, you attract a lot of attention, you know?” it was a rhetorical question, but Hawks’ chest still puffed out in pride at your words.

“Thanks, it’s because of my raging-”

“Shut up,” you cut him off, “either way, I have a pounding headache and I do not have enough shits to give to put up with your fan girls today,” with a sigh, you rubbed your temples. Hawks stared at your clenched teeth.

“Hey, why do you-” “I think I know where we can go,” he frowned.

“You know it’s not polite to interrupt people like that-”

“Sunflowers.” your tone dripped finality as you faced Hawks, a brazen determination in your eyes he hadn’t seen until now. It made his breath hitch in his throat.

Breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and eyebrows furrowed when you sped your pace, gulping down more of your coffee.

“Uh, what?” you waved a hand dismissively.

“There’s a sunflower field in Fukuroi City, I think it’s west from here,” the tiniest of grins etched onto your features, “it’s gonna be a lot more interesting than the rest of those blank background. Plus, the yellow will compliment your clothes, and with the sun low in the sky I’ll get my perfect warm lighting,” you explained. Hawks wasn’t sure exactly how much of a difference it would make, but the idea seemed charming, and it was more exciting than being perpetually flanked by a white screen.

“Sounds good,” he chirped, “although, to be honest, you could take me out anywhere and I wouldn’t mind,” you rolled your eyes. 

“That’s a shame, because I don’t intend to hang around any more than I have to,” Hawks pouted, crossing his arms.

“Come on, I wanna know more about you!” you bristled.

“Good for you.” the two of you fell into a beat of silence before Hawks smiled, undaunted.

“I’m sure I can win you over somehow,” shaking your head in disbelief, you lifted the cup to your lips, before looking down disappointedly when you realised it was empty.

“I don’t have enough coffee for this,” you muttered. Hawks’ expression brightened. 

“That’s an easy fix: your agency is around here so you must know there area pretty well,” he spoke nonchalantly, as if he was on a casual lunch date and not in the most expensive outfit you’d seen in your entire life, “what’s the best place to grab a coffee?” for a moment, you looked taken aback, before shaking your head.

“Best café in these parts is the Sunset Hour,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “but as much as I have no inhibitions regarding bunking off work, that’s a little too far away. I need to take this pictures before the end of the day or Mizuki’ll submit those crappy ones she took in the studio,” Hawks nodded in understanding, smile never faltering for a second.

“Well I gotta get you your caffeine fix somewhere, so what’s the second best?” your expression scrunched in thought for a moment, before you jutted a thumb over your shoulder.

“There’s a Starbucks across the road,” he snickered seeing your blank expression.

“Not exactly where I would want our first date, but I suppose it’ll do,” rolling your eyes, you shoved the empty cup to his chest, which he gripped almost instinctively. 

“Good thing this isn’t a date, then,” Hawks grinned, sending your empty cup on a feather to the nearest bin before chasing after you as you crossed the road. You didn’t spare him a single glance when he appeared at your shoulder, nor when he reached over above your head to open the Starbucks door from behind you.

“So you’re saying we can have our first date somewhere else?” with a shallow sigh, you shook your head.

“What I’m saying is that there’s not gonna be a first date. Not between us,” his chest tightened. God, you were so mean. He’d be into that.

The inside of the Starbucks was a mix between modern, western architecture and traditional Japanese woodwork. The equipment was all cutting edge, and the tables and chairs were made with a sleek mahogany, but the windows were framed with bamboo shutters, and the backroom was separated with shoji sliding doors. It was an curious blend, one that you studied with an interest. The deep, earthy scent of roasted coffee beans heavily imbued the air, filling your nose with the aroma of something far more familiar. 

Given it was the late afternoon, and most people tended not to drink caffeine after 2pm, the patrons were few and far in between. Good for you, at least. It meant you wouldn’t get- “Hawks? Sorry to bother you but can we get a picture?” your head turned at the voice that rung out.

Two high school girls stood to your left, hands clutched together in front of their chests and a dark pink coating their cheeks. With a small sigh, you took a step forward in the small queue. Hawks smiled with all the faux charm in the world, an obvious change in his demeanour as his pride spiked.

“Of course! And just as it happens, I have my personal photographer here who can make sure your photos look amazing as you two do!” it took you a moment to register what he had said through the excited squeals of the girls before he clutched your shoulders and pulled you forward, causing you to stumble slightly. 

“Your what?” he sent you an audacious smirk, willing you to play along as one of the girls handed you her phone. Your first instinct was to decline, but as you met the eyes of the girls, so eager and bright, you couldn’t find it in you to disappoint them. 

Taking a couple steps back, you lifted the phone, slightly angling it so the picture looked more natural, and not that of a celebrity and their fans (even if it was). You squinted angrily at the poor lighting, but tried to rectify it the best you could. The girls looked a little tense, but Hawks was a natural. A liberal smirk played on his lips and shoulders rolled back, relaxed. Even with the low lighting, the highlights on his cheekbone and jawline were indescribably perfect, and you weren’t sure if the credit should go to you or his god-like genes.

“Wow, that’s perfect!” one of the girls cried, her body appearing by your side. You hadn’t even noticed her moving, “thank you so much!” you just nodded, handing her back her phone and crossing your arms, eyes narrowing at Hawks.

“If that’s all, ladies, we best be ordering,” they nodded frantically at Hawks’ words, sharply bowing and spouting their thanks to the two of you countless times. They left the Starbucks, but even outside you could still hear them fawning over the picture. He faced you with a grin, but you couldn’t muster up a smile.

“Don’t go around telling people I’m your personal photographer,” you sneered. He pouted, looking genuinely disappointed for a second. “What, you don’t wanna be mine?” “Not in the slightest.” 

“What will be your order, Miss?” the barista had directed the question at you, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere. You weren’t surprised, but a small swell of annoyance grew in your mind.

“Can I have a mocha with a double shot of expresso?” Hawks chuckled.

“Might as well have an expresso, you know. You’re basically just taking a shot of caffeine,” you shrugged.

“It’s my favourite drink. I like the chocolate taste,” he looked at you with round eyes, a small squeeze in his chest.

“And you, sir?”

“Oh, I’ll have the same, then,” he didn’t miss the way your eyes darted to him. The barista nodded, tapping for a couple seconds before turning back.

“That’ll be 660 yen,” “I’m paying,” Hawks blurted, even before you could offer. You were silent, a small nod in the affirmative rocking your head. As he handed over the bills, he chuckled. “You know, not that I mind, but usually couples would argue over who’s paying,” you rolled your eyes.

“We’re not a couple,” you watched the barista prepare your drinks, more of a way to occupy yourself rather than a genuine interest, “besides, you’re a lot richer than I am. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I’m sure you can lose 600 yen and still be good,” he hummed happily.

“No disagreements there.” “Are you two eating in or taking out?” the barista asked, in the midst of securing the plastic lids to the top of the cups. Hawks’ eyes sparkled as he turned to you with an excitement you assumed only appeared in children.

“Hey, we can-” “Take out,” you responded, giving a now deflated Hawks a challenging look, “I will leave you here if I have to.” the blonde grinned. “You wouldn’t. You need me for the pictures,” he sang, voice jovial.

“I don’t care about you that much. The sunflowers are probably less annoying subjects anyway,” oh. With no warning, his heart beat sped up, his wings puffing out slightly. Sure, he wouldn’t mind if you were a little nicer to him, but your insults were like a breath of fresh air. There was no doubt that Hawks loved the limelight, loved the popularity he got, but the relentless ass-kissing got old after a while. You kept him on his toes. Even if he was just constantly chasing after you every time you brushed him off, he didn’t care. 

“Put those away, bird brain,” it was then he realised his wings had spread further than he intended, stretched out on either side of him. One was curled right around his face, and he almost felt himself blushing as he pulled them in. It was just animal instincts, he assured himself. 

The rest of the journey was filled with a one-sided conversation of him talking and commenting on what was around you, with no response from you except the occasional witty retort or light-hearted jab at his expense, each one making his heart flutter. It wasn’t too long before you had arrived, the chain link fence around the plot stretching high above your head and corroded with orange rust. 

Rows and rows of bright yellow sunflowers stretched to the horizon, an immense display of summer vitality. The fragrance was potent, a sort of cloying sweetness that you didn’t hate. And just as you were about to enter, you knew you had made a mistake. 

“Oh.” Hawks stared at you incredulously, attention switching from your taken aback expression to the sign posted on the gate.

“You didn’t check to see it was open?” you looked up at him, allowing him to survey a tinge of remorse he hadn’t recognised until this point. 

“Look, how was I supposed to know? This place has always been open at this time since I was a little kid,” you rubbed your arm, brows furrowed. Hawks sighed, rolling his shoulders back.

“Well, the sun’s too low to go anywhere else outside,” he shrugged, “it’s no biggie, I guess. Those other photos weren’t too bad. Hey, now that we’re free, do you want to- what are you doing?” your foot was halfway in the gaps in the gate, the wedges on your heels making it hard to climb.

“I’m not wasting my day for nothing,” you growled, fingers curling around the metal, “get climbing, bird boy,” with a soft sigh, smile gracing his lips and a warm feeling in his chest, Hawks spread his wings.

“I think you’re forgetting something that’ll make this a lot easier,” you felt a cool draft on your back as Hawks flapped his wings, the feeling being quickly replaced by the warmth of his chest as he pulled you in. A foreign emotion coiled in your stomach, but you convinced yourself that it was just the flight.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other supporting your knees, and all Hawks was thinking that such a gentle flight never felt so calming. 

Your feet tapped against the soft soil, sinking in to it slightly when the hero placed you down. You nodded your thanks.

“Let’s go over there, I want the sun coming in from the right,” Hawks nodded, content to just follow your orders. You pulled the tripod from your bag and set it up, adjusting it to your liking as Hawks looked around, trying to think of a pose. 

Once everything was ready, you turned your attention to Hawks.

“I want to humanise you,” he grinned curiously as you walked over.

“What do you mean by that?” he nearly gasped when you grabbed his chin, angling his face to the side and slightly up, towards the sun. You took a step closer, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. He bit his lip, hands trembling as you tugged slightly, trying to mess it up a little.

“All the photos I’ve seen on you always put a huge emphasis on either your wings or your hero status, and I don’t really see why,” you mumbled, placing one hand on his jawline while the other fixed his hair to your liking, letting a few strands fall in front of his eyes, “I think that just creates a divide. If they wanted you to seem angelic they should play that up, not just have it the norm,” you huffed, “anyway, I wanna put the emphasis on you and not your wings. So ideally if you could tuck them behind your back that would be wonderful,” 

Hawks nodded, disappointment filling him as you stepped away. He made sure not to move as he awkwardly folded his wings over each other and pulled them in, glancing at you with a look of apprehension. You just nodded in approval, leaning down to your camera. 

You took plenty of shots, allowing him plenty more opportunities to feel your hands on him (and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it). 

“Hey, why were you so late today?” Hawks dared to question while you were analysing your photos. You were perched on a bench, appreciating your work. The late sun cast a golden sheen on his skin, the spattering of glimmering rays highlighting his face in all the right places. 

“I was sleeping,” you responded, deleting an out of focus shot. His eyes narrowed.

“What?” “Just as it sounds. Figured if they were gonna make me work so I could only have three hours of sleep a night it was gonna be on their time, not mine,” he frowned, taking a seat next to you.

“They shouldn’t work you that hard,” you shrugged with a hollow laugh, blank gaze in your eyes. 

“What am I gonna do? Have them fire me? As much as I hate this job it’s the only thing that pays for my coffee in the morning,” he was silent as you stood up, stretching your arms behind your bag before tucking everything back in your bag. 

“Did you want to be a photographer?” he questioned, only to be met with a forlorn smile.

“Maybe at one point.” the two of you lapsed into silence before you sighed.

“Well, I’ve gotta submit these to Mizuki, and I’m sure you need-” Hawks caught your wrist, spinning you back around.

In the glow of the sunset, you looked almost ethereal. Your eyes gleamed, and cheeks warmed in the orange flare. Sunflowers framed your form, and the words caught in his throat, nearly stopping him from saying anything at all.

“Come work for me.” he blurted. You snorted.

“No.” all he could do was smile as you hopped back over the fence, not waiting up for him.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

[sidespromptblog]

What to Do?: Chapter 9

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Ten

Warnings: Food mention, General Angst, Hurt/Comfort, and a difference of opinions.

Summary: Logan realizing that his first mistake was seeing the other sides as anything other than coworkers. They weren't a family. They didn't even like each other. How had he not realized sooner?

Word Count: 2,439

Roman paced anxiously in the hallway before Logan’s door, the paper in his hands had been wrinkled, smoothed out, and then wrinkled again before he had tried to smooth it out once more… this time less successfully. 

He had been more than a little surprised when Logan had come to him with a list of things he wanted Roman to pick out, normally when it came to getting anything done they had two totally different mindsets of what should be done when it came to Thomas. And once it came time to do things they would clash just as they always had, as Roman instinctively wanted Thomas to just have fun and follow his passions. Whereas Logan was the exact opposite of that, and he had always wanted Thomas to do the things he needed to do, whether they were fun or boring. Roman had always kind of hated him for that, for seemingly shooting down his every idea, for a more and more boring one that sucked the fun out of everything. 

But this new plan…

“You too huh?” Roman’s head snapped up in an instant, and locked eyes with Virgil who had his hands on his own version of a wrinkled set of papers. “Apparently Patton got one too, and the oth… the dark sides too.” 

A bolt of surprise leapt through Roman, so Logan wasn’t asking just them anymore? He was actually, well and truly, going to everyone to see what they wanted done. He could imagine that Remus must’ve been quite surprised to be asked such a thing from Logan of all people. Especially with how they had clashed just recently, or had Logan just given Janus the papers with the instruction to give it to Remus too. If that were the case… then Remus would have seen this as nothing more than homework to be done, and probably shredded it the moment that it landed in his hands. 

Or maybe not… 

Roman was smart enough to acknowledge that he didn’t exactly know his brother that well. That and Remus always tried to do what they least expected from him, as one big twist surprise ending towards them all.

He was annoying like that. 

Roman’s eyes snapped towards the door, and Virgil fidgeted in his place for some reason looking very uncomfortable at the prospect of entering. “Yeah…” He finally said, scratching the back of his head. “It definitely was kind of… interesting. I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me for a while, we didn’t exactly part well last time.” That was an understatement, he remembered yelling at Logan… and just being so angry before he had come to terms with it all. “I’m surprised that Logic even wants to see us and-” 

A snarl peeled off of Virgil’s lips, and Roman flinched in surprise.

“His name is Logan, Roman.” The anxious side snapped in an instant, his eyes dark like thunderclouds before a torrential downpour. “Not Logic. Do you understand?” He growled, suddenly looking quite on edge for someone who had just been looking so nervous in the face of Logan’s door. 

It felt a bit like whiplash. 

But even so Roman held his stance firmly, he was determined when it came to this and he wasn’t going to let one of Virgil’s temper tantrums get in the way of it. Not anymore, and not with everything that had happened recently. He was Logan’s shield, he had sworn that he would be that for him even if the logical side didn’t know it, and even if he never knew it. Roman was on his side, and he would remain on his side for as long as the logical side would have him. 

So he crossed his arms, “I think his name is whatever he chooses for it to be, Virgil.” He stressed the other side’s name, feeling only an inkling of guilt at how the anxious side stepped back for a second. “We don’t have the authority to tell him what he will or will not be called. If he wants to be called Logic, then Logic is what we’ll call him. It’s not up to you.” Roman stared at Virgil, meeting his eyes dead on and not breaking eye contact until the anxious side’s eyes darted away. “Got it?” He asked, feeling the tiniest bit of satisfaction in how he had turned the other’s words back on him. 

A beat of silence, and then…

“Thank you Creativity.” Both of the sides looked up in a hurry, their eyes locking onto the logical side who stood before them, his door previously shut tight was now wide open. He held his own stack of papers, all neatly pressed and without a single crease or line on them. “Both of you may come on in, if it so pleases you.”  

And just like that, he turned and disappeared into his room, leaving the other two sides to follow him. 

The atmosphere was… more than a little tense to say the least. 

The bedroom that had previously been Logan’s looked nothing like what it was now, to the point where it was almost night and day with the comparisons. The posters were gone, the string lights, the pictures of all of them, the bookcases, the crumpled up paper balls that had once been ideas, even the… the fanfiction that Roman used to help Logan write… it was all gone. It was like everything had just been stripped away, and a boring office cubicle had taken its place. The deep blue walls were now a pale cream color, and the lush carpet was now just bland grey tile worn with a path of someone who walked in the same place for years and years.  

Roman had thought that Logan’s room had been boring before, but this… 

This was a whole new ball game. 

And looking at the stark horror that was etched out onto Virgil’s face, he could very well tell that the anxious side was thinking the same thing that he was. 

“So…” Roman cleared his throat as his voice cracked almost immediately. “I’m.. I’m a…” He fumbled badly with his words, the shock he had just went through robbing him of what he had prepared himself to say. He’d been asked here for a specific reason, and if he failed the simplest thing he had been asked… then what good was he? “I’m sure that Thomas can do the things that you want him to. It shouldn’t be that ha-”      

Almost immediately Logan cut in, “Don’t aim too high,” The logical side suggested, rather politely. In a way that Roman could tell that what he was saying wasn’t necessarily out of malice or anything. Instead, it feels like Logan’s saying to be more helpful, almost like a coworker giving some good advice.

But Roman can only nod, the underlying message behind that advice all too clear for him. 

“I aimed too high.” It says, “And I got burned for it, so don’t do what I did. Save yourself.” 

The tension has not eased a single bit. 

And then, Logan lifts his cup up, taking a slow and steady sip from it, as if he was trying to ease the atmosphere by doing something. The warm brown liquid swirled around in Logan’s cup with the clinking of ice accompanying it, and Roman’s nose itched with the faintest smell of spices wafting off of it. He got the faintest whiff of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and cloves. Had… had Logan completely given up coffee and switched over to having chai tea of all things? He would have expected that from someone like Patton, or even Virgil, to lessen the other’s anxiety.

But Logan?  

Roman had to bite his bottom lip at the mental image of Logan becoming one of those “dark academia” people that sat in the library and looked gloomy and so freaking cool all the time... kind of like Janus. Although Janus… Janus was more of a wine person, that much he could tell from miles away without even having to get close to that snake. 

“Don’t you normally drink coffee?” Virgil asked, wrinkling his nose at the spicey mixture in Logan’s cup, and Roman fought the urge to elbow him in the gut for his remark. “What’re you drinking?” 

Logan, to his credit, didn't even seem like he was going to get mad or anything at Virgil’s pure judgment and vitriol towards the drink of his choice. He merely took a longer sip than usual, licking the droplets that remained from his bottom lip when he pulled the cup away. He looked… calmer, before Logan would have vehemently defended his food choices against anyone who tried to question him. But at the same time, it felt more than a little wrong, Logan may have shifted towards the spicier drink, but where was his spice? Where was Logan’s sharp tangy flavor that made him so different from them? 

This Logan was like coffee now, bitter and… not at all to their taste. 

Logan just smiled that polite smile, and Roman had to force himself to smile back.

“I’ve found that drinking coffee isn’t exactly beneficial in the long run,” Logan explained, as he swirled the content of his cup around in a steady motion. “It’s been known to enhance anxiety attacks astronomically,” Virgil’s face gave a funny look for a moment, before Logan went on. “And it also lowers blood pressure too.” 

Roman swallowed down the words that he wanted to say, “That’s great Logic, good job on looking ahead.” The words felt sour and dull in his mouth, logically… Logan should have known that him drinking coffee over tea wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t impact Thomas in any way, and it wasn’t like Logan himself would drop dead over some high blood pressure. Logan had just taken away one more thing that the logical side liked, and turned it into something else. “You did good.” 

For a split second something in Logan’s face changed abruptly, a slight widening of his eyes and a crease in his forehead and lips. 

Something changed, and then… 

The room flashed briefly, but just out of the corner of Roman’s eye, it was so brief that he almost missed it entirely but he was certain that he had seen it. 

The cubicle styling of Logan’s room, just momentarily flashing back to how it was supposed to look. With all of his space posters, hanging lights, and the organized mess that Roman had seen Logan’s room as before. It was.. It was as if the new room only existed when they looked at it, and not a moment too soon or too late for them.

The very thought alone made Roman’s stomach drop.

He had promised himself that he wouldn’t intervene if this was what Logan had truly wanted for himself, but even so… it didn’t ease the sting of pain that was accompanied by every new thing that Logan was starting to do when it came to any of them. He had thought that he could handle it, and that the pain of this somehow would be lesser than the guilt he had felt towards this whole situation. But.. 

It wasn’t. 

If anything this felt worse, he had talked himself into giving in and giving this to Logan. All of this was almost too much for him, his legs itched to run and take him out of this room so that he wouldn’t have to witness anything like this anymore. But he held himself firm, and refused to move. He forced himself to look back at Logan, at the logical side who is steadily typing away on his computer, inputting the information that both he and Virgil had brought to the other side. 

Speaking of Virgil though…

The anxious side looked like he wanted to either scream or cry at Logan, the emotions clashing like a thunderstorm on his face as his eyeshadow darkened in color for a few brief moments. Until finally Virgil sucked in a deep breath, his eyeshadow returning to its normal, usually messy state as he seemed to calm down for now. 

Reaching into his pocket Virgil pulled out a folded piece of paper, “For your… office.” Virgil caught himself on the last word, almost wanting to say something else. The cubicle looked like a prison to him, nothing at all like Logan’s old room, and he could very much see why Logan hadn’t wanted him in here before. So he says the word almost bitterly, because this whole situation feels bitter to him. There’s not one bit of sweetness to be found in it.

He only softens the slightest bit when Logan takes the paper, unfolding the picture he had drawn for the logical side. And when Logan actually pins it to his cubicle wall, his movements are careful and precise so as to not damage the art Virgil had made for him. It remains on the wall, in plain view for the logical side to look at while he’s working. Then and only then does Virgil feel an intense sense of relief sweeping through him like a hurricane. It’s one more piece of evidence for the both of them that Logan doesn’t entirely hate them, but also that things also aren’t the same between them.

At least not yet. 

“Okay…” Virgil clears his throat, before tugging on Roman’s sleeve to pull him towards the door. “We’ll leave you to your work.. Logic. Let us know if there is any other paperwork you need from us, and we’ll get it done…” Virgil paused, but for just a moment. “I promise.” 

Logan stopped in his typing, his eyes glancing up from the computer they had been otherwise glued to. A look of… something passed over the logical side’s face, before it vanished entirely. 

“Thank you…” 

It was the only two words that were whispered back, so softly that Roman had almost missed them entirely. And before he could even think to ponder the words, he was pulled out by Virgil, his head full of ideas as he remained ever more determined to give Logan things to put up in his new “office”. His mind was wild with ideas of painting, charcoal sketches, and pastel drawings that he could give to Logan to pin up. Anything to make his new room, just the slightest bit more hospitable for the side who was constantly having to be in there. And anything to let Logan know that they still cared for him, even if he was doing all of this.  

While Virgil…

Virgil felt just the slightest bit better.

[thedisguisedaltruism]

fond stares, vast place, loud heartbeats

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, concert au

pairing: wonwoo/gn reader

summary: wonwoo hates the crowds, but he has to save up all his energy since you’re taking him as your concert buddy for taylor swift’s 1989 tour. little did he know, he will soon realize that he was actually in love with you, thanks to taylor and her wicked songwriting.

word count: 2,192

a/n: dumping this shit because too much feels for you are in love live :((

2015

“Wons, turn it up, turn it up!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but snort from your excitement to see your longtime idol live. You worked hard to save enough so you could see Taylor Swift since then, and now you’re about to witness your turning point in life.

...together with your best friend, not to mention how he loathes crowds.

I Know Places is currently playing on the car stereo and you're warming up as you hit the high note in the chorus, dramatically pressing your chest with eyes shut. Wonwoo takes his final turn as you finally arrive at the stadium.

"Missed the note there, my friend." He teases. You could care less from his assed remarks because your mind's been in euphoria since you woke up from a power nap a few hours ago.

Outside the venue has already gathered a big crowd, and you patiently wait for your best friend who's double-checking the doors if they're surely closed.

Wonwoo has been your best friend for five years, and being grateful to have him is an understatement as he has witnessed your ups and downs in college. He knows that apart from your family and him, Taylor and her music has already played such a great role from adolescence until adulthood.

As a sucker for books, Wonwoo was undoubtedly impressed by Taylor's songwriting prowess since he listens to your discussions during the free time about the lyric analyses that you read across the internet, and you usually play her live performances whenever you pull off all-nighters that's why he agreed to be your concert buddy because he wants to see the person who could give rainbows to the person he likes.

Yes. The person he likes.

Wonwoo thought being in a Taylor Swift concert is not bad at all. It's like having a big crowd of best friends gathering in one huge place to have fun with their most talented best friend. Everyone's perfectly singing along to every lyric, breathing to each punctuation, and screaming at the top of their lungs.

Honestly speaking, he was having fun, and boy, he could sing along to a few songs while waving with his light-up bracelet. 

Aside from being fascinated by the live performances, he would sometimes steal glances at you, making him amused by your kaleidoscope of emotions you've shown from the past eight performances. Sometimes you'd turn to him just to sing while holding your chest, and go back to screaming how much you love Taylor Swift.

After the succeeding crowd-jumping performances, Taylor comes out with her black Gibson acoustic guitar to perform an acoustic version of her song just like the old days. The crowd has once again roared, and you scoot close to Wonwoo to whisper that Taylor's going to sing your favorite song from 1989.

He knows the story behind it. You told him on your graduating year at the rooftop of your college building while chugging an energy drink just to keep yourself awake from pulling off an all-nighter for your thesis, it was about Taylor’s known actress friend falling in love with her producer on this album—someone with the name Jack—if he could still guess correctly.

Taylor has already ascended for a clearer sight of crowds from the top seats, instructing everyone to sing back the specific words. Wonwoo watches you hugging yourself while craning your neck so you could see Taylor from above.

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

  You and Wonwoo first met at the same elective during college freshman year. You were sitting near the door, sparing the next seat with your bag since someone from your class politely asked you to but unfortunately, she never came back and it was perfectly timed that Wonwoo immediately spotted the vacant seat beside you, exhausted from running before he gets late (yes, in a goddamn first day of class). 

  He learned that you’re taking up creative writing that’s why said elective was important for your course. He told you that he was taking up computer science, but he still needs to take the elective.

  ...and then, your friendship started.

  You have friends, but they’re few for your liking because socializing is exhausting. Wonwoo, on the other hand, despised being exhausted around people and that’s the reason why both of you became friends quickly. Reading was Wonwoo’s stress escape and yours was binge-watching k-dramas and reality shows.

  You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

  Since both of you chose to live in dormitories at college, sometimes you’d walk together around the university park late at night and talk about stuff happening in your life outside academics. One time, you told him how you’re pissed at your family’s insights about coming out since they happened to share once about how your cousin came out at a family gathering and the next moment, he was already in the hot seat. You told Wonwoo that you wished you were there to end all of your religious hypocrite relatives.

  Wonwoo, within the years of friendship, was never the type to initiate a conversation, but he’s an excellent listener. He could watch you talk about Taylor Swift, the perennial hate for your Major professor who’s academia-obsessed since she sets a standard too high for her liking while her class is on the brink of dropping out, and how you were fascinated about him staying up all night for computer games and still ace programming exams.

  Suddenly, the crowd started to roar out of the blue, making him shake his head from spacing out. Still standing, much to his surprise since he hates getting tired, he realized that he’s just watching you being helplessly in awe at Taylor Swift no matter how neck-stiffening it is, how your eyes sparkled with bliss just like the days when you talk with him about the things you love.

  And then he felt the pace of his heartbeat quickened.

  The crowd was already singing along with excitement—he has no idea what kind of reason it is—but he remains watching you like you were excruciatingly hard to reach, despite how you could hear his loud heartbeat if this was an empty place.

  One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says “You're my best friend”

And you knew what it was

He is in love

  You screamed you’re my best friend at the top of your lungs together with other sixty thousand people at Taylor despite how your best friend, who’s silently watching beside you, couldn’t calm himself down unnoticed.

  You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

  Suddenly, you turn to Wonwoo as Taylor does her guitar break before singing the bridge, and you were surprised to see him just staring at you instead of watching Taylor from up above and tell you how skilled she was at playing guitar. The way he’s looking at you wasn’t even judging, teasing, or the usual antics that he does.

  He’s just looking at you fondly and you thought maybe, he’s extremely happy that you get to see your longtime idol live after all these years and you deserved it so much.

  ...except that your tentative guess is incorrect.

  “She’s really good, isn’t she?” you yelled at him proudly while pointing at Taylor with emphasis.

  Your best friend could only nod and gesture at you to look back on your idol.

  And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

  That made Wonwoo look up to Taylor Swift in an instant and judged her as he could so. As Taylor stopped, the crowd screamed once again, but nothing is deafening as his heartbeat while watching you cheer in chorus.

  He didn’t know if he should feel betrayed, because you were his partner during graduation ball and you were just having the best time of your lives because fuck it, despite being anxious about what’s to come after the graduation, both of you were so happy to have been able to survive despite the shit hole life your university has given.

  He also happened to frame a picture of you in his office peacefully sitting beside the stacks of scratch papers for software development. He secretly requested for its original copy at the official student publication of your university during that one major event as he saw it on Facebook.

  He realized that he’s in love with you after all this time.

  Much to his misfortune, you suddenly looked at him again and your eyes met that he couldn’t look away, but this time it was replaced with worry. You caught him twice, and knowing Wonwoo, he’s not usually vocal when it comes to express his discomfort.

  You gently hold Wonwoo’s hand. “Are you having a bad feeling? We could go out if you want to,” you whispered just audible enough for him to hear.

  And that’s how he lost it. 

  It took him another deep breath to sink in that you chose his well-being over your once-in-a-lifetime moment with your idol.

  Like… holy shit, he was so lucky to have you in his life and he thought this time, he wants to step out of his shell and gather the courage to tell you how much you mean to his life. He’s had enough secretly pining over you for years.

  But first, he wants you to be happy and enjoy your time with Taylor. He shakes his head no and holds your shoulders to turn to Taylor who’s now descending for the next performance.

                      “I can’t believe she’s real, what the hell, she was fucking real, Wonwoo.” you sighed. “Oh my god.”

  You couldn’t stop wiping your face after spacing out which made Wonwoo chuckle. After the concert and almost a painful hour of waiting to get out of the stadium, you mutually agreed to stop by the nearest convenience store.

  Although you only bought a coffee and went back inside Wonwoo’s car.

  “Me too.” Wonwoo whispers. That made you remember what happened during You Are In Love performance. You looked at him and tapped his shoulder.

  “You looked unwell this evening. Were you honestly okay, Wons?” you ask.

  He only blinked in response.

  It took Wonwoo a few seconds to gather up his courage. Now that it’s only the two of you alone, he thought he must let it out.

  “Yeah, I was just overwhelmed. You don’t have to worry.” he jokes, his attention remained at the store. He could see from his peripherals how your eyebrows furrowed, obviously not convinced enough by his excuse.

  “What you told me about Taylor the first time you introduced her to me was...true,” he sighed deeply. “She sings what we couldn’t put into words.”

  For someone like Wonwoo whose eloquence is something to look up to, you were confused by what he meant.

  Wonwoo turns to face you and takes your icy palms to wrap them with his large, slender, and warm ones. 

  “I love you.” He says, straightly looking into your eyes.

  Your eyes widen in surprise.

  “Please don’t joke around!” You hit his shoulder, but all he does is let out a burst of breathy laughter.

  But honestly, your heart skipped a beat after hearing his sudden confession.

  Tracing circles on your hand, Wonwoo smiles at your bewildered expression. “You were wondering if I was having a bad time? No, it’s all Taylor’s fault for making me confess to you tonight. That took me a long time I guess.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “I love you and Taylor made me realize that I should confess before it gets too late.”

  You looked up at Wonwoo while pulling your hand from his gentle hold and laughed. It was unbelievable how both of you have been painfully oblivious despite being helplessly pining towards each other.

  It was your best friend’s turn to get puzzled so you took the time advantage to confess.

  “Idiot, I liked you too, ever since we first met.” sounding bashful, you looked away hoping that you didn’t sound like an idiot. So much irony for making fun of your best friend a few moments ago. “I have no idea that you felt deeper than I thought I have.”

  Even if you already knew how Wonwoo’s mind works for five years, he is always full of surprises.

  Or maybe he was so happy tonight that he kissed your hand and never let go of it as he started driving you home.