#fine to complain but its a personal taste thing not a general 'never do this as a writer!!!' thing

[cherryblossomshadow]

#Seriously let the authors write their characters in whatever way they need or they want #Sometimes they're just a reflection of their own healing process #And you'd be surprised to know how many people do come to the bed negotiating contracts in BDSM while having some form of #healthy communication kink #And/or how many adults wind up naturally expressing themselves like therapists wanting to heal themselves and the world #Whenever they are dealing with conflicts #The only people that will try to make you feel abnormal for using words like “I hear what you are saying and your emotions are valid…” #In everyday speech are those that are threatened by the idea of non-violent and empathetic communication becoming “mainstream” #That human beings might be able to truly listen and emotionally connect rather than fight for dominance and trying to constantly #win a freaking point and prove they are right! #Seriously you can write characters with different levels of communication skills even some with very dysfunctional ones that are #nevertheless amazing people with good intents #Characters that might need some guidance and support from those skilled at healthier and non-violent communication #It's a huge spectrum of human communication styles and abilities in the world! #Just because “you don't personally communicate a certain way IRL” doesn't mean that's not the usual IRL communication style #of another person. #“Pfft! No one really talks like that!” #Most of the times when I hear that I immediately go “Yes they do. Do you even notice how other people interact and talk or just because #YOU wouldn't feel comfortable or natural talking like that you assume no one else does? “ #Food for thought (tags courtesy of @thelostgirl21)

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Friendly reminder that if you're not being paid to write content a certain way then you can write what you want to write, the way you want it written, forever. Writing is an art form and everyone can be ordinary at it without guilt. If you want your characters to talk about feelings with enthusiasm and skill, then do that. It is free and no one is grading you or docking your pay. It costs everyone zero dollars to leave writers alone. We have enough stress and guilt as it is, thanks. (comment courtesy of @beautifulterriblequeen)

.

This is definitely true! It is frustrating! I guess one thing I've been thinking about a lot though is that for a couple of shows I've seen, I've actually been like yknow what I'll let this slide because… actually it's modelling how to have healthy conflict/talk about your emotions… and of course it's not the job of any piece of media to model healthy behaviour… but I'm hopeful that there are people who will see these shows and benefit from it in how they interact in the rest of their life… so yeah it totally does feel clunky sometimes and there's no need for everyone to be "therapy speak"ing all the time… but I can see one potential benefit to it too 😊 (comment courtesy of @yaay-feelings-fuck-feelings)

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Alternately, sometimes write a character who is entirely in tune with their emotions and can use therapy speak - and is still lying through their teeth about what they're feeling because it's really fucking entertaining. Bonus points if they deliberately use therapy speak to be misunderstood and make communication HARDER or to communicate a different problem than the one they are having ON PURPOSE. (this is really fun for manipulative villains, especially in stories that take place in the modern age) You can also do this with an extremely "intelligent" character who thinks they are in tune with their emotions but is not - who uses therapy speak to describe the wrong thing. Who thinks they are being honest but are wrong about it because they are on like 16 levels of repression because there's different types of intelligence and so many intellectual people think they can intellectual-brute-force their way to emotional intelligence. (comment courtesy of @baelpenrose)

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Sorry my rambles didnt fit in the tags!

"people just do not and often Can not tell the absolute truth about themselves all the time even during heated and climactic moments"

I love this dynamic. I also feel like I don't rly understand myself completely, so when I get to know/figure out something about the character that the character doesn't, yet i completely get why they can't understand themselves ... idk I just have a rly good time 🤷‍♀️

characters who "think they are being honest but are wrong about it,"

esp if its bc repression, are so special to me. Again, I just rly love that dynamic

Many intellectual people think they can intellectual-brute-force their way to emotional intelligence

This is A+ character work to me

"Oh! I had a terrible night because you accused me of this, and it's all your fault for having thrown these accusations without having understood my good intentions!"

Oh wow. Damn. Complaining about how my behavior affected his day is actually something dad used to do all the time. Like if we were out together as a family, whenever I would get mouthy or something at the end of the day (looking back, we were probably all tired!!!), he would sigh dramatically and complain, "And we were having such a nice day. Don't ruin it." And, tbf he's still doing it now. *chipper voice* But it's got a new and upgraded flavor to it!

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Unrelated but I've been researching emotional regulation strategies to try to help someone else, but I'm seeing all these strategies that I've just been unknowingly using, like Opposite Action Skill. When someone pisses me off, I (sometimes) get nicer. (Yes i get pissed off often enough that the "sometimes" is statistically significant). But yeah, until I read the DBT book I got from the library, I had no idea that was a Thing™

That post that's like "stop writing characters who talk like they're trying to get a good grade in therapy" really blew the door wide open for me about how common it's become for a character's emotional intelligence to not be taken into consideration when writing conflict. I remember the first time I went to therapy I had such a hard time even identifying what I was feeling, let alone had the language to explain it to someone else. Of course there are plenty of people who've never been to therapy a day in their life who are in tune to their emotions. But even they would have some trouble expressing themselves sometimes. You have to take into account there are plenty of people who are uncomfortable expressing themselves and people who think they're not allowed to feel certain ways. It also makes for more interesting conflict to have characters with different levels of understanding.

[innerfare]

Random Mihawk Headcanons

Summary: a random collection of Mihawk headcanons

CW: None // SFW

———

Can’t stop adopting strays to save his life. He’s a sucker for a mangy cat or unwashed pirate. Perona was quite literally the only hygienic guest he’d ever had at his castle. Zoro’s bathhouse allergy only further endeared him to Mihawk. 

Also such a cat person in general. He’s introverted, too. Prefers the peace and quiet, enjoys sitting with a glass of wine, a good book, and a purring cat in his lap. That being said, for whatever reason, he just can’t help but gravitate toward rambunctious dogs who get mud on the carpet (i.e., Shanks). 

In general, has a magnet pull toward things he disdains and even outright despises. In relationship terms, this means he claims to want someone who will make him better, but he will really only go for someone who will make him worse. King of guilty pleasures.

Suffered the loss of someone he loved dearly when he was quite young. Shanks knew the person, too, thus their bond. The person died at the hands of a marine who saw no consequences, thus beginning Mihawk's reign as the dreaded Marine Hunter.

Is actually a horrible shot. Can't fire a gun or bow and arrow to save his life. Claims to dislike these weapons and refuses to fire them because an honorable fight can only take place in close quarters (or something like that) in order to save face. Only Shanks, Beckman, and Zoro know he can't shoot.

Smells so good. Has a fondness for jewels and shiny metal, fine wine, and other such luxuries, but expensive perfume has always been his weakness. A bottle was the first thing he purchased after his first big score as a pirate. 

Complains incessantly about being bored but is such a creature of habit that it’s a cage of his own making, low key. He wants excitement, but he also doesn’t like sleeping in a bed that isn’t his own or sipping wine he doesn’t like from a glass he did not hand select. He’s only grown more particular with age. 

Has a sentimental side. The type to keep small mementos to remind him of various events and people. Sometimes goes back through these mementos when he'd had a bit too much wine to drink. These include everything from his first sword to a copy of Shanks' first wanted poster.

Hates how people act around him- the infamous Mihawk. Be it kissing his ass or tripping over their words because they’re scared, he hates being ogled. Actually bonded with Crocodile over how annoying the masses, as he calls them, are in that regard. 

Claims to hate it when the Red Hair pirates come to stay because they always make a mess of things, but smiles to himself every time he passes the tapestry a drunk Lucky Roux somehow managed to rip a hole in despite its place so high on his wall. 

Though he had a perfectly logical reason for telling Crocodile to spare Buggy, he would have gone to bat for the Clown regardless due to his connection to Shanks, not that he would ever admit to this. Why Shanks is soft on Buggy is completely lost on Mihawk. 

Doesn’t do anything half-assed, and part of that means reading up on everything he does. Gardening? Stack of books. Cooking? Another stack of books. Interior design? More books. 

Total wine snob (obviously). Likes his wine as red as blood and dry as Alabasta. If it’s sweet, he doesn’t consider it to be a wine and scoffs at it. Only respects wine drinkers who share his particular taste. Nearly died when he found Buggy’s cellar full of rosé. 

Has repaired roofs and walls, but is a bit lost on how to decorate his castle beyond high-quality basics (silk sheets, fine glassware, etc.). Would appreciate someone’s thoughts on wall art, fine china, and furniture. 

If Beckman were not in the picture, would take his place as Shanks’ first mate in a heartbeat. Would also never admit this, pretends to hate the idea of being on a crew. Also has sexual tension with Beckman that has never been addressed, probably never will be.  

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[ducknotinarow]

"You want my advice?" Vox asks the Goetian prince sourly, pausing to take a long, bitter swig of his drink. "If he's been skittish around the issue, don't tell him. Save yourself the broken heart twice." ( :' 33 Imma just leave this here for Stolas~ )

| muse interaction

Stolas found himself in a odd sort of position with his new of acquaintances he was getting to know. But as he was always told never turn down a gift when you were the guest. Though Stolas should maybe exercise some resistant when it came to his alcohol sure he can handle it just fine. But didn't mean he wasn't going to be affected with a good few in his system at one point. As he sat around with the TV overlord from the bunch. Stolas clearly grown comfortable around them with how he was sighing and draping himself over the couch he was making his own in the moment.

"As much I thought it was just a sort of for fun fling at first I find that I couldn't get that little imp out of my mind. His eyes, his devilish smile the charm! Oh and I thought only the male leads of my romance books could get to me in such a manner" Stolas continued to complain at the time. Frowning as he turned around so to lift himself up off the couch. "I found myself in love with him. I just don't know what todo with that though? Blitzy I mean Blitz dosen't seem to return how I feel? And if he did? My night at Ozzie likely ruined any chance I even had. What do you think Vox? You're a smart demon I mean look what you built after all."

"You want my advice?

"Yes of course I do! I feel I don't know maybe there something there but its as if Blitz just can not bring himself to even think of an 'us'. So any advice I will take!" Stolas asked watching how Vox swirled their own drink in their glass, two glasses deep to not fully catch the tone when they spoke.

"If he's been skittish around the issue, don't tell him. Save yourself the broken heart twice."

"Don't tell him?" Stolas repeated something about the bitter tone just stood out to Stolas too much now almost experienced? Interesting. "Shouldn't I set my feelings straight though? even if rejection is in my wake?" Stolas pointed out with a hum to follow. "Tell me is this advice general? or are you drawing from personal experience? I am divorced well working on getting divorced I can note the bitter taste of such a thing across the tongue and you seem to be full of it now." Stolas pokes a bit clearly curious in the moment.

"Though I do find it interesting if you been in my shoes before, I find it hard to see someone turning down a charismatic one such as you."

[vulpiximisa]

kono oto tomare part 1

i dont have strong feelings about the first part of Kono Oto Tomare but i'll just note the things

i can't stop comparing it to chihayafuru, so that might get brought up alot 😅

i was really rooting for takezo and chika, and they really do have good interactions and a good bond but i guess as for ship i was expecting (hoping for) more. maybe because takezo isn't an entire wimp (i guess i was expecting sakamichi yowapeda) and is also a year older than most of the club that i dont think they'll ever be as tight as i would like.

one of my least favorite things that happen in "sports” series is when they need a large cast so they bring in a group (usually 3 or more) and then they never really develope the group as individuals. So im talking about kota, saneyasu and michitaka. They do get individual lines here and there but aside from Kota who got a few stand out moments, they generally are always just “the gang that came with chika”. Eventually they are part of the group but i wish they’d spread out a little more, give them something different.

I guess i was also projecting because i wanted to like kurusu so much, i love gyaru characters in settings they shouldn’t be in and i was hoping for something like hanano in chihayafuru, but kurusu’s character/story just really felt like they added a girl just to have another girl in the group. Unfortunately it looks like shes also there to be takezo’s love interest, but i'm not huge on. 

If it wasn't already obvious by my tastes, im hard passing on chika/houzuki. Not because they are the ship that is being pushed on me, i dont mind the main het ship sometimes (kyo/tohru), but because i guess i dont like their dynamic. If its the rough ice queen type girl, i personally would prefer her to be with someone on the cheery side (could be another girlfriend, i was rooting for kota/houzuki when he glomped her that time). Its because theyre the bickering type too, the exact type of ship i dislike. 

I  dont dislike houzuki tho. Shes a fine character and necessary in their group. I want to say theyre a good trio but i think that takezo’s kind of lacking sometimes. Maybe id like to see more houzuki and takezo interactions, maybe i though takezo’s trauma was rather weak. 

Chika (i dont want to say unfortunately because its not a bad thing) steals most of the show, and i actually really love is story with is grandfather. The amount of times i cried 😭

I am also pretty interested in Takinami. It’s not the first time seeing this kind of character, and im lowkey mad i spoiled myself by looking at his profile on MAL before i got his backstory, but i love seeing characters who lost their passion/never had one/became apathetic but then found it (again), and found something to love and care about. Also his interactions with takezo

Im not going to be a stickler for animation because you can see them trying to get away with not actually animating the koto playing until ep13. I mean i wouldn’t know anything, but i think ep13 was really impressive so im not going to complain. 

Anyway, i only finished the first part, so i’m looking forward to the rest of it, considering we didnt even get the competition results yet.

[skelltan]

my thoughts on wet moon 7

finished wet moon. i liked it. i wish the ending was different though. i feel like a huge bitch for complaining about it since sophie worked so long on it and i don't want to tell her how to do her own story better and i can definitely tell she felt it was the best way to end the story. i'm not taking that away from her whatsoever, i dont think it was a bad ending by any means, this is simply how i personally would've preferred the story to end (spoilers for wet moon 7, obviously).

the idea of a conclusion - wet moon is very floaty in the way the story is told. it's not super abstract, but it's not really told as a conventional story, either. it's just sorts of glimpses at character's lives. this is why i find the finality of morning cold unfitting. we do have a lot of things left open, but they're more plot points than character relations for the most part (what was with the cleo eats it stuff, the paranomal stuff, etc). it felt like it closed the door on each character's narrative way too concretely. i thought the scene with beth was cute, but if she never showed up after her departure prior, i think it would've been fine. i'm also not a fan of penny's biphobia being swept under the rug for it to turn out she herself is queer all along

as a continuation on that point - the "fairy tale" ending. i thought the ending was far too sweet. i'm not a hater of happy endings, but again, tied with the conclusivity and fluff in the forms of beth and penny's story i thought could have been omitted, it felt too twee for my tastes

to summarize my biggest complaint spawning from those two: i felt this book was a bit of a tonal mismatch to prior ones. it was a bit too cut and dry and didn't have as much mystique

i dont mind cleo and mara splitting, and there were definitely seeds to it happening, but it was a bit sudden - moreso was trilby and cleo getting together when the door on that felt closed since about book 2. mara and natalie also felt a little forced, but both relationships had merits, the latter much more than the former

i don't completely get why trilby is mad with martin - you can sort of gleam why but this is left open in a way that isnt satisfying such as the other closed plot points i'd have been fine with keeping open or the things that do stay unexplained

while i mention natalie - her design. i feel like her scar was really downplayed. which, if it healed, yeah, sure, but i liked it a lot more in prior volumes. i also just generally prefer her design in prior volumes, but that's a minor gripe

a lot of focus on nissa and nora. this isn't inherently a problem, but they were barely that present prior, so to have a majority of the finale focus on them was an odd choice - though it's a bit of a lose/lose. either they could have been retroactively used more (which would've had to have changed the story a lot), or just shafted entirely. this is another minor gripe, but it stood out to me.

but don't get me wrong, like i said i still enjoyed wet moon a lot - i wrote all of this because i care, and even then, i must stress it wasn't a bad ending at all, i just have my gripes.

sophie's art through all books is spectacular and her writing was engaging - even despite my gripes with this volume, i thought she nailed the character voices (especially zia) and understanding of the character relations - its less so that she ruins character relationships, but rather she has a lot more clarity on them that, while good, feels somewhat incongruent with prior volumes.

on the art - every volume had great art but holy shit she really stepped it up in this volume. im not good with descriptive words but its just like a total evolution and its wild. trilby's redesign is awesome. every character manages to look more distinct than they already were, which again feels like magic. i definitely wanna read more of her stuff

[coffeedrgn87]

December 19th Drarry Drabble: "Christmas Wreath"

Parts 1, 2, and 3 are available here.

Tags: Ron makes wreaths while Harry drinks tea and complains, Ron thinks Draco is cool, Harry has yet to learn that lesson, let's hope the mistletoe teaches him, this is getting out of hand, help a coffeedragon who doesn't know what they are doing, how did this drabble business turn into a multi-chapter, where did I go wrong, also this is still fluff, Harry's got confused feelings, Ron's a really good mate

If there was one constant thing about Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, it was the messiness of the backroom with its long wooden table that held a wide array of George’s latest projects. A stack of lumber piled on the floor next to the crackling fireplace, and unevenly high shelves practically overflowed with various tools.

Ron’s obsession with repurposing old coffee tins meant that most items were stored in non-described containers. As far as safety measures went, George (as the primary owner of the store) wasn’t entirely compliant, but because he kept volatile magical ingredients locked in a safe, Harry generally turned a blind eye. That and he trusted Ron to keep an eye on his older brother. As a former Auror, Ron saw it as his duty to ensure things at the back of the shop did not descend into complete chaos.

These days, and with Christmas only days away, the workroom was messier than usual, with magical and Muggle tools lying everywhere. An old milk crate filled with Muggle spray paint had claimed an entire chair, and the floor was covered in a fine sheen of gritty sawdust, blobs of colour, and twists of metal shavings. The fireplace kept the room nice and toasty, and the smell of sweet, spicy cinnamon clung to the air. Molly had dropped off a large tray of freshly decorated baked sugar cookies, and Harry was particularly obsessed with the Christmas tree ones; they tasted heavenly.

As he munched on his fourth cookie, Harry watched Ron expertly bend a cedar tree clipping until the tip overlapped the cut end and wind a floral wire tipped with red berries around the two ends to secure it. He wrapped the wire around the wreath until all the little leaves were neatly tucked in and then reached for his wand to use severing charms to trim the edges and create a nice round form.

As the last step, Ron used permanent sticky charms to decorate the miniature Christmas wreath with seed heads and tiny pinecones. Harry had made several attempts to help, but after seventeen failed attempts, he’d concluded that his fingers weren’t nimble enough for the task. As a result, Ron did all the work while Harry warmed his hands on a large mug of piping hot Earl Grey.

“Tell me again why you’re making all these?” he asked, lips brushing against the rim of his mug as he spoke.

“Decorations for December owl orders. Thought it would be a nice touch, something special just in time for Christmas.”

“Ah,” Harry nodded, admiring the wreath Ron had just finished. It had a woodsy smell, a bit prickly, herbal and spicy, and somewhat earthy. It complimented the sharp, sweet smell of the tiny pines. It intermingled with wafts of treacly floral and zesty orange tartness from Harry’s Earl Grey and promptly reminded him of his consultation with Malfoy. It had gone reasonably well because neither of them had raised their voice, and Harry hadn’t felt the need to hex Malfoy into another century. 

“Ron.”

“Hmm.”

“Malfoy asked me for a memory of myself. Something private, a bit intimate, personal.”

Ron looked up from his work. His blue eyes twinkled with a smile. It instantly reminded Harry of Malfoy and the easy way he’d smiled and laughed throughout their session. His stomach swooped, and he felt his heart skip a beat. How could his best mate and Malfoy possibly have such similar mannerisms? And how had he never realised this before? Merlin knew, back at Hogwarts, he’d paid more than enough attention to Malfoy.

Or was it that he’d been so obsessed with Malfoy that he’d never really paid attention to Ron? And what about the last decade? He and Ron saw each other on a near-daily basis, and while Harry had long since come to the conclusion that gender did not matter to him when it came to his choice of partner, he knew for a fact that Ron’s goofy smile and his soft, sweet blue eyes did not warrant stomach swoops, butterflies, and a skipping heartbeat.

He and Ron were close; over the years, they’d done a lot of stupid shit, but Harry had never felt attracted to Ron before. In fact, he was one hundred per cent sure he wasn’t attracted to Ron. Surely, this damned cursed mistletoe didn’t have the power to trick him into believing that he had feelings for his best friend? Then again, Malfoy’s precursory examination of the mistletoe’s magic did suggest it was somehow linked to emotions, though he’d also clearly stated that he needed more data to make a definite decision.

“So give it to him,” he said with an easy shrug, then continued to make yet another wreath.

“Just like that?” Harry asked, a deep frown etched on his forehead.

Ron put the cedar tree clipping down and straightening up; he stretched a little to relax his shoulder muscles.

“I doubt Draco’s got anything nefarious in mind, Harry.”

Harry swallowed a sigh.

“Draco, is it now?”

Ron grinned.

“I can revert to ferret if it makes you more comfortable?”

The question made Harry laugh, but when a tiny piece of cookie lodged itself in his windpipe, he promptly started coughing. With watering eyes, he reached for his tea, took several careful sips, and cleared his throat.

“OK there, mate?”

Harry nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, sounding a little hoarse.

Ron smiled at him. He picked up the cedar wood clipping again. Within two minutes, he’d fashioned another wreath, and as he attached a tiny pine cone to the bottom centre, Harry forced himself to swallow a sigh.

“I— Look, I know I’m being silly, but—”

Ron chuckled softly.

“Do you want to get rid of that blasted mistletoe?”

This time, Harry didn’t swallow the sigh. As he let it out, he picked on the hem of his shirtsleeve, toying with a loose thread he’d found.

“More than anything, it’s just not funny anymore.”

“Then I suggest you get over your aversion to working with Draco and let him help you. He’s the best in the field. A bit of trust in him would go a long way, Harry.”

Harry, feeling like a child who had just been reprimanded, ground his teeth together.

“It’s not that I don’t trust him; I just— I don’t know what to make of him. Perhaps it’s the mistletoe starting to affect me, but— I’m out of my depth.”

“Fastest way to solve that problem is letting Draco fix you.”

“You’re not even going to give me an inch?”

Ron laughed.

“Mate, not when you’re being ridiculous. Besides, you showed me the memory of your consultation. He was nothing but polite and professional. In fact, if you ask me, I think he went out of his way to try and make you feel comfortable.”

Harry looked at Ron with a pinched expression.

“He’s up to something,” he grumbled.

Ron burst into laughter.

“Oh, come on, mate, I knew it. I was waiting for that line. Get over it; Draco isn’t up to anything. Let him help you. Bill tried his best, but he doesn’t have a solution for you. Hermione’s had her nose stuck in tomes about ancient magic for the past fortnight, and while I find her thirst for knowledge delectable, I’d like my wife back if it’s all the same to you.”

Harry pulled a face.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my best mate?” he asked, feeling the tender beginnings of an annoying tension headache making itself known. He cast his gaze up at the mistletoe and scowled at it.

“Fine, I’m an idiot,” he admitted grudgingly.

“While you can be a bit of a dork sometimes, I wouldn’t quite go that far. Just work with him; let him fix you up. I get that giving him access to your private memory is weird, but that’s why he asked for a pensieve memory. He’s got no interest in rummaging around your mind. If you ask me, that’s mighty respectful of him. He just wants what he needs to do his job and is considering your boundaries while doing so. Besides, sure he’s asked for something personal, but it’s not like he wants to watch you rub one out. If I understood him correctly, a meaningful conversation with someone you care about would do the trick.”

Harry grumbled under his breath but nodded in silent agreement. Ron had an undeniable point, and the last Harry wanted was to pick a fight with his best friend.

“If only I could give him this conversation,” he said with a soft sigh.

Ron chuckled.

“Pre-mistletoe, mate, pre-mistletoe.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Don’t remind me. Also, you deserve a bludger to the head for that wanking comment.”

Ron grinned. His eyes sparkled with pure mischief.

“You know, Harry, I’ll do you one better. Go home and have a wank; you’re far too cranky to be good company for anyone.”

Glaring at Ron, Harry waved his hand and hurled a stinging hex in his friend’s general direction. Ron, who had his wand in his hand, swished it to redirect the spell. It flew directly into the fireplace, and the flames hissed, sputtered and temporarily burnt bright red.

“You seem to forget that we both went through the same Auror training, mate,” Ron laughed. “Just because I work with George now doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten all I learnt.”

“Pest.”

“Ah, I love you, too, mate.”

Harry shot Ron a dirty look, then picked up his mug and finished his tea.

“I’ll leave you to your wreaths.”

Ron poked his tongue out at him.

“Take one with you as a reminder of this conversation.”

“Don’t make me try and hex you again.”

“You just failed; I doubt you’ll succeed on your second try.”

��Like I said, pest.”

“Ah, go home, darling. Your right hand misses ya.”

“I honestly can’t decide who’s worse, you or Malfoy.”

“Likely neither of us, but as always, you’ll have to come to that conclusion yourself. Grab one of the saucy dream potions on the way out; it’s on the house.”

Rolling his eyes at Ron, Harry got up and stretched his limbs.

“Menace,” he grumbled, then stalked over to the fireplace and disappeared in a flourish of green dust.

[mypimpademia]

— Random Bakugo Headcanons

Bakugo x gn!reader

TW: domestic hcs, some hcs are suggestive, some involve children

Note: random fluffy bakugo headcanons I came up with during my massive brainrot for him! If you follow me you've probably seen some already😭 enjoy! 💖

And I came up w a lot of these while talking to @katsumiiii ! The portion w bakugo and his kids was based off of this post

⇶ Despite his atrocious attitude, katsuki is actually very attentive to you, and he's ready to do anything you need, even if he complains

⇶ He pays for literally everything. You're not allowed to spend a penny on his watch, and if you do he honestly gets upset when you spend your own money

⇶ Katsuki likes to take time to admire you. He swears you're an angel, and absolutely worships you

⇶ Just swears he has to kiss every inch of toy and tell you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you or he'll die

⇶ Admittedly, Katsukis kisses are a bit rough. Just because it's in his nature, but at the same time they're so sweet and passionate, and he pays attention to see what you do and don't like

⇶ He takes his time with kissing you up too, wants you to make sure you know you're loved

⇶ He wears cherry chapstick, and we've all seen how he brushes his teeth, so even though it sounds weird when you say it to friends, but he tastes good

⇶ Sweet, and a little citrusy, and paired with the way he kisses you its so addictive. You will never want to stop kissing him and that's completely fine by him!

⇶ Also gives really grumpy morning kisses with his eyes still shut

⇶ Katsuki also likes to randomly kiss and nip at random parts of your body

⇶ He'll come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, nipping at your neck before pressing a few kisses to the side of your face and asking what you're doing

⇶ Or if he's laying down between your legs with his head on your stomach, he'll do the same to your inner thighs

⇶ Maybe it's because he enjoys praise, but he really likes when you admire different parts of his body

⇶ Especially his arms, and his torso in general

⇶ He'll become putty in your hands if you do what he does to you and kiss all over him

⇶ Don't even get him started if you have lipstick or lip gloss on and it leaves marks on his skin

⇶ Especially if you reapply it just to mess it up again. Katsuki finds anything you do incredible and enamoring, but this is his favorite by far and you always end up doing much more than kissing

⇶ He's got not an ounce of shame in him either, wears every mark like it's a medal and declines if you offer to wipe it off him

⇶ Has definitely worn them into a live TV interview before and got a kick out of the face the host made when seeing the lipstick/gloss marks

⇶ Once again, despite his attitude and the way he acts, Katsuki really enjoys the thought of settling down one day

⇶ Of course he prioritizes being an incredible hero beforehand (but it doesnt get in the way of your relationship or his love for you) just because it's his lifelong dream, but domestic life is right behind it

⇶ He's also not the type to go around dating people or even sleeping with them, he's a very "date to marry" type. He's not focused on his career, and he feels like it's a waste of time to both himself and the other people if he's not really into them like that

⇶ So when he found you, you're his one and only ever. You are his person, his first and last everything

⇶ Heavily enjoys things like cooking together, grocery shopping together, cleaning together, etc. Just anything domestic-like that he can do with you

⇶ And of course your cute little at home dates like movie nights or days where you wind down together, wrapped in each other's arms. Those are his favorite because he just gets to be with you after always going out and risking his life with hero work, you're like his sanctuary

⇶ His domestic dream includes a couple of Bakugo offspring too!

⇶ 1 to 3 of them to be exact, and he'd cherish them withe every once of his being

⇶ Also avoids doing a lot of the things his parents did while raising him. He loves his parents, and to him they were good parents but he knows their parenting style wasn't exactly amazing

⇶ Doesn't so much as yell at his kids, just the thought makes him feel terrible

⇶ But of course, he does have a habit of yelling and he's only human so he does get frustrated. He always takes a minute to calm down or talk to you to avoid getting angry with them, or just passes the situation to you as a whole

⇶ Katsuki is veryyy overprotective of his children as well, doesn't like for anyone to even walk past them to closely

⇶ Gets aggressive towards paparazzi when he's out with his kids too, and yells at them to stay the hell away from his kids

⇶ Especially when he sees that the random attention from strangers in their face with cameras is putting them in distress, it breaks his heart and he feels like it's his fault since it's really him bringing in the attraction from the media

⇶ Definitely takes his kids for daddy dates, especially if he's got a little girl he shows her how she should be treated by her partners

⇶ And of course he often shows love to you in front of the kids to give a good example of a healthy relationship

⇶ Doesn't make many promises towards them unfortunately, just because his job is so demanding and sometimes he can always fulfill promises

⇶ He's very clear with it too, makes sure they know how much he wants to attend things like school events, but that sometimes he just can't. But he always tries to attend, and does a good job at it, never misses events like "Donuts with Dad" or their graduations

⇶ When he does make promises, he always goes through with them. Even if it means showing up to their school events still in his hero costume. But all the kids think it's cool anyways, so it's fine either way

⇶ Makes a big deal out of the graduations too, even if it's just for grade school. Takes them out to eat where ever they want and gets them a cake

⇶ Katsuki struggled (and still struggles as an adult) with seeing his accomplishments as accomplishments, and he doesn't want his kids to have the same problem and does so by showing them that little things matter

⇶ He definitely picked up some form of art when he was younger, even before you and him had your kids

⇶ It was likely pottery and ceramics, he found it relaxing in comparison to the stressful work of being a pro hero

⇶ Katsuki was a natural at it just like he is with most things, and tended to make a lot of pots, mugs, and bowls

⇶ He asked you to paint a lot of them, and they sit somewhere in your house as decorations or are used for dining

⇶ And once the kids were born, he made two mugs with their handprints on it, one for you and one for him

⇶ And of course personal mugs for the kids themselves

⇶ As Katsuki gets older, he leans more into other artistry like sculpting

⇶ He starts off abstract at first, just because it was honestly harder than he imagined, and made little pieces to go around your house

⇶ Makes one for your entire family that sits on your mantle piece above the fireplace

⇶ And one for each of the kids as part of their high school graduation gift

⇶ Once Katsuki retires from hero work, he gets much better at sculpting since he has more time on his hands

⇶ His biggest piece, and the one he loves the most and is most proud of, is a life sized sculpture of you based around the 'Undine Rising From the Waters' statue

⇶ It was a birthday gift to you, and it took him a year to make. He holed up in the art studio of your house for a few hours a day just working on it. Admittedly, it had you concerned but in the end it was worth it because it was all for you

⇶ He only thought it was appropriate, he loves you so much, there's nothing he does do without you in mind, and you're his muse for all his work so of course he made a sculpture of you

⇶ To Katsuki you are his absolute everything, he didn't think of the idea of soulmates much until he met you, and now he thinks he found his

—

Taglist: @silkylious @blackweebtrash @love-hashira-raine @denkisdashi @bigheartlittlelies @haksluvr @ivalore @jacuzziwaters @niktwazny303 @disaster-rose

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

[folkloreguk]

French Class [6]

A/N: You guys might want to whack out your love song playlist for this one…I cried writing this BYE I'm posting this from my grave!!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, ANGST, smut

words: ~ 3.8 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @yeostars, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek

You: can I come over? I kind of need u

H/N: you need me huh…you’re lucky I’m home alone

It always starts differently. Some other question, or a subtle message of telling him you’re bored, or a flat-out confession of being horny. The ending is always the same. You, naked in his bed. You just had to get there, and things were easy when you were already on his dorm’s doorstep.

The moment he had opened the door, you had fistfuls of his hair between your fingers and attacked his mouth in a feverish kiss. He made a noise between a laugh and surprise but reacted quickly. His lips parted right away, letting you in, and you tasted mint from the chewing gum he liked so much.

“Let me- at least- close the door,” he mumbled. “Jeez, what’s gotten into you today?”

You stepped aside and mirrored his grin. He was acting surprised, but the way he instantly locked your lips after he had shut the door told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. You ran your hands down his torso and along the side of his thighs. His happy hum only poured oil into the fire, and you saw no reason as to why you should have kept your clothes on any longer. In minutes, in the middle of heated kisses and clumsy chuckles, your clothes were discarded, and you were left in your underwear. You stumbled into his bedroom in a tangle of arms and legs and heads barely pulling apart.

“Will you tell me about the date you had today or are we skipping over that part?” he asked, as he pushed you down by the shoulders onto his bed. You groaned a little, not even knowing where to start.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” he asked. Only a few nights ago you had consoled him after his failed date, now the roles were reversed.

“That’s one way to put it,” you said. He was climbing on top of you now, and the weight of him between your thighs still did the same things to you it had done the first time. There was one of his random playlists playing quietly from the speakers, but you were both too occupied to even consider switching the music off. You weren’t in the mood for a chat, not when he was biting and sucking bruises into your chest, pushing aside your bra just enough. But you knew he wasn’t going to let it go this easily.

“Tell me about it or I won’t take one more piece of clothing off your body,” he threatened. You shot him an are-you-serious-look while he only blinked at you innocently, like he was awaiting your response.

“Fine,” you groaned. “But hurry, now.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, before unclasping your bra and throwing it to the other side of the room. “Go ahead, I expect a story.”

You had rolled your eyes at him, but when he sucked on your nipple all of a sudden, and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud ever so perfectly, your eyes moved to the back of your head involuntarily. And, before he could complain, you started to retell today’s events.

“Alright. First of all, he acted all gentleman-y. Pulling back my chair at the restaurant, letting me have a look at the menu first, letting me order first, asking me if I was okay with our seats because they were in the sunshine, or whether he should have requested we get a different in the shade table, blah, blah, blah.”

With the lewd noises he was making, kissing your chest and fumbling with your breasts, you almost wondered whether he was paying attention to you at all.

“I’m waiting for the plot twist,” he chuckled. “If he had been this great, you wouldn’t be in my bed right now, would you?” He was now on his way to your lower regions. Your breaths came out shaky when he gripped your hips with familiar fingertips and placed a few kisses there, right above the material of your underwear. Nonetheless, you had to continue your story.

“Oh, it’s coming,” you said. “Because I suspect, the only reason he was acting that way was to compensate. For the fact that he was an hour late.”

He stifled a laugh, and you slapped his head playfully. “It’s not funny! I stood outside that restaurant on a busy street like an idiot for an hour. During exam season!”

“I wonder, if studying is so special to you- ,” he said. He tugged on your underwear, and you barely cared about his words when you were already imagining his mouth on your pussy. “Why aren’t you at home right now, doing just that?”

“Too frustrated,” you groaned, spreading your legs, practically inviting him in. “You don’t get it. That was only the beginning of the date. It gets worse.”

“Oh, damn,” he laughed, and you were going to slap him again. Harder, this time. But his tongue kitten-licked over your clit and you didn’t dare interrupt him further.

“First of all, he turned out to be boring. An economics major. And look, I’m not generalizing, I’ve met some cool economics majors. But when I said I never really understood the whole thing with inflation and deflation, I wasn’t asking for him to explain it to me. I know what it means, I just meant to say money is the root of all evil,” you said, little moans slipping inbetween your sentences. He laughed whilst sipping on your clit. You couldn’t be mad at his laughing anymore. In fact, at the sound of his chuckles, your own lips curled into a smile, too. God, he was so good with his tongue.

“But turns out he loved money. Like it was the sole reason he was doing anything. When he showed me his gold watch I almost yawned,” you continued.

“Dating a rich guy can have its upsides too, though,” he said, but you knew he was joking. He was running the tips of his fingers over your core, and you whimpered at how badly you wanted him to put them inside of you. You loved watching him, loved feeling his hair tickle the side of your thighs and having his free hand laying on top of your hipbone. The familiarity of it all, his little habits, made your heart heavy, so full of emotion, all of a sudden. But you had to snap out of it.

“Not this guy. He kept saying these lowkey sexist things I won’t repeat now. It’ll only make me mad again. He was one of those who thought money would buy him a girlfriend. And I was really trying to see the good in him…only there was none,” you said.

“Alright, I’m starting to understand why you needed some cheering up,” he said. “Good thing you’re at the right place. I know just the thing.”

At this, he slid his digits into you. You hummed and dropped your head into the plush pillow. Slowly, you exhaled, happy you finally got to relax after being so upset. But of course, he had to interrupt. Again.

“Did I say you could stop? Was that the end of the story?” he said. How did he expect you to form a coherent sentence? He fingered you gently, but the slowness of it all only drove you crazier. You felt every tiny sensation, every new bit of you he touched.

“No,” you sulked. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Go on, then,” he encouraged you, grinning because he was proud of your reaction he had caused.

“Fuck- okay. He was super shitty to the waiter. I’m talking about criticizing everything. This man had the audacity to complain about the food. I’m not a food critic, but I swear the food was amazing, there was nothing to fault at all,” you said, and then whined when he switched from licking your clit to sucking it between his teeth. You knew he was doing this on purpose. To make speaking harder for you.

“Oh my god, H/N. Wait, let me finish this. Not only was he horrible to the waiter in person, but he also made fun of the waiter’s appearance behind his back. And all along he expected me to find him funny. I used to think he had a sense of humor but not after today. Blech.”

“At least you got a free dinner?” he said, and without awaiting your answer, went back to work. Your head was spinning in pleasure, and you could only laugh sarcastically at his suggestion.

“Yeah. And after that train wreck of a date, he really thought he’d get to stick his tongue down my throat,” you said.

“Did he at least ask permission?” asked the boy between your legs.

“Mhm…but I told him I don’t do that on the first date,” you said. “Safe to say there won’t be another date, though.”

He looked up now, laughing more than before. You grinned, mainly because the sight of him was so cute. He folded his hands on your belly and put his face down onto your skin to giggle. In no way could you be upset or urge him to keep giving you head. In fact, you had forgotten about all of that for a while, as he seemed to enjoy your misfortune a little too wildly. You should have been hungry, eager to have the half-naked boy inside of you. Yet, you laughed at the way his breaths tickled your stomach and when he finally made eye contact, it was a wholly different sort of hunger which overcame you. Instead of the heat he usually made you feel, it was a comfortable warmth that was in your chest. It reminded you of a bonfire or of drinking your favorite hot drink on a cool autumn day.

“I want to watch you come,” he said, casually. “Were you close?”

You were so lost in his trustworthy, dreamy eyes, you almost forgot to reply. Quickly, you nodded and hummed.

“I would have already come, had you not pestered me to tell you all the details of my date,” you said. The way his cheeks beamed when he smiled made you feel as if your insides were turning into mush.

“I’m sorry. I’m your friend, aren’t I allowed to ask how your day went?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” you said. The word ‘friend’ echoed off every wall in your head until you wished you could have deleted it from the dictionary.

“I’ll make sure it feels extra good now,” he said, kissing your stomach. You shivered as you watched his gentle lips move lower, to your hips and the insides of your thighs. The touch felt like butterfly wings on your skin, and the tardiness of it made you impatient. When his tongue came in contact with your clit again, you sucked in a breath of surprise.

He tried to start slowly, but then you gripped his hair tightly, and carefully pushed him further. It was something you did often, a way to tell him you wanted more without having to use words. After all this time, he understood perfectly. Your clit was between his lips and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pleasure. It felt incredible, creating a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach. His fingers grazed over your slit until you were whimpering and shifting your hips, trying to make him hurry.

One of his digits slid into you easily, curling against your sweet spot, and it hit you only now how much you had missed him between your legs since he had stopped a few minutes ago. It made you feel as though you were suddenly overwhelmed with all of him, but you were willing to let the heat crash over you if it meant you could be close to him.

“Am I making it up to you now?” he asked as he pulled away merely for a breath. “I’ll turn your day into a good one after all.”

In a different tone his words would have sounded like the exact thing one would have expected to hear from a fuckboy in the bedroom. He could have boasted and bragged endlessly about how great he was with his tongue and fingers – he would have been right – but he didn’t mean it like that. You could tell from the uprightness and the authenticity in his voice that he really was doing his best because he wanted to make you feel better and turn your day around. Because you were special to him. Or so you desperately hoped.

Your legs wrapped around his shoulders as if you were trapping him between your thighs. But he was right there, and he would gladly stay for so much longer, and to say it puzzled you was an understatement. The boy who belonged to everybody, who was known by all of the campus, was treating you like you were royalty, and not the other way around. You moaned, his name inevitably falling from your lips. He added another finger and the slightest stretch made you lose your mind for a split second.

“That guy could have never made you feel this good, could he?” he suddenly asked. Your initial response was a helpless whine. You had been so close, and his talking had interrupted the otherworldly bliss for a moment.

“No, never,” you then whimpered shortly. ‘No’ was such a tiny word. It could barely encapsule what you truly meant to say. Which was that it would have never even gotten that far. That other guys couldn’t even have you at all. They didn’t get their turn to try and beat him. Not as of lately, at least. That you didn’t so much as dare to think about sleeping with other guys. That even before you had gone on the date, you had known it wouldn’t lead to anything. No guy could let you develop an interest on him in the same way the boy between your legs had done it. No other would be able to kidnap your brain like that. H/N was always there. Even when it was only you and your sex toys, you would automatically pretend it was him getting you off. You were so far gone that it was embarrassing how long it had taken you to admit it to yourself. But it was a colossal thing to confess to him, and you would never do that. Rejection would hurt a billion times more than whatever it was you two had now.

Your heart was racing as you closed your eyes. You had been so lost in thought, it was wondrous you hadn’t fallen yet. But you were right on the edge, making your breaths come out like puffs and a string of moans and swears sound from your lips. He too had stopped talking, concentrating on the task at hand, and judging by the way your back arched he was doing one hell of a good job.

“Oh my god- “ you whimpered. “I’m so close, H/N.”

This time he didn’t reply, which was for the best. Only a few seconds passed until you started to quiver and whine beneath him. You were going to outer space behind your eyelids as your high rushed through you. Your fingers curled and tightened in his locks while your legs clenched around his head. He was quick to pull your thighs apart again, still not being finished. For long seconds you swam in pleasure, with nothing on your mind but bursting stars. He was heaven, knowing precisely how far he could take it until you were too sensitive to take any more.

When you were at that point, he finally pulled away and looked up at your crumpled form. There was a lazy smile playing in the corner of your lips and your vision was hazy after having had your eyes closed for a while. He climbed up your body until his chest was against yours so he could really look at you.

“I get all of this without ever having been on a single date with you? I’m so lucky,” he said. You only smiled at him, at a loss for words. What were you to say? The two of you were clearly past the awkward dating stage already.

“I’m lucky you let me come over all the time,” you said. “I would have expected the campus fuckboy to be busier. To not have an empty spot in his bed every night.”

“Ah, shut up,” he said. “I’d rather have you here than a girl I don’t know at all. Look, I’m really tired so I don’t know how this will go…but can I?” He was on his knees, a tent visible in his boxers. With a questioning look, he was tugging them down his legs now.

“Of course,” you said. As you watched him roll on a condom, your ears perked up. Did that song have to come on shuffle just now? The coziest, most romantic love song you adored so much? You knew if you looked him in the eyes you’d be done for. But there wasn’t anywhere else to look when he settled between your legs and held up his weight with his forearms. His eyes were deep enough for you to get lost within a second. Distracting yourself was impossible. The one last thing you could do was to reach between the two of you and guide his length into you.

The song’s chorus came on, you looked at him once again, and suddenly you were all his. You didn’t need to tell him so. He thrust gently, almost carefully, like he had never done it with you. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so vivaciously, you wondered whether it had turned autonomous and was now trying to jump out of your body, onto his skin and through it, so it could nestle next to his own heart.

Neither of you spoke. Yet, there had never been so much chemistry, such a heavy amount of uncommunicated emotions between the two of you. You were ready to hang on his every word, should he decide to speak up. In your head rampaged a billion sentiments you needed him to know, but there was no option to express them adequately. Perhaps there were simply no words in the English language to declare your feelings for him.

Small whimpers and moans left your lips only for him to hear. Sometimes he moved a little quicker, gifting you with the most perfect sounds he could make. And to know you were the cause for it sent you into overdrive. His mouth was right above yours. If you lifted your head slightly, you could have kissed his sweet, sweet lips. But you were so afraid. What would he think? You had never kissed him during sex. Not softly, like you wanted it so terribly.

Even worse, you craved so much more than that. You wanted to pull him in, envelope his mouth in your own, crawl over the edge of his lips and reside in his chest for safety. Because that’s what he was. Comfort. Reassurance. Home. How foolish you had been, pretending this little fling would lead to nothing more. You really had told yourself this would work. No feelings. Just fun. You couldn’t deny having fun with him. He was the best company you had ever known, and he had become your most precious friend quickly. It was as if you had only been waiting for the silly, flirty boy to sit across from you in the library and make weak advances towards you.

The love song tuned out slowly, replaced by something more sensual and sinful. In accordance with the new background noise, he gripped your hips a little meaner and went faster. You barely noticed how his breathing had sped up as he was getting closer to his orgasm. A trance had overcome you, transfixing you on his godlike features and how much it hurt to know you couldn’t call him yours. In your head you were made for each other. They always said to date your best friend, didn’t they? You could try to turn back time, go back to your first meeting place, at the party. See if things would turn out different. But you knew they wouldn’t. As much as your fear tried to suppress it – you would take the same path again, stumbling head-first into his arms and letting him into your life like a crashing wave of laughter and heart-crushing conversations.

Now you reflected in despair, how he had taken your heart in a storm, without having to try too hard. And worst of all, you were okay with it. Your heart was secure with him, you thought. The feelings yearned to be spoken out loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Always, so fucking good.”

He snapped his hips against yours, burying his cock deep inside of you and all you could muster was a hum of agreement. This is what you got for keeping him at arms-length from the beginning. Wasn’t it you who had challenged him to be friends and only that? Perhaps you would be okay, so long as no one else called him theirs either. You could go on like this, letting him use you for sexual relief and making him laugh when he needed it. Gladly, you would take the pain of not being allowed to love him with your whole being if it meant you could see him whenever you wanted. Exposing those silly emotions would wreck your friendship and you wouldn’t let it happen.

He grunted and only then, when he lowered his head into the crook of your neck and moaned your name, you realized he was reaching his high. Softly, you cradled his head in your hands, as if it was the last time you could hold him like this. When he put his forehead against yours, he had his eyes closed and his chest was moving steadier than before.

“You’re the best,” he whispered. “Stay the night?”

Should you have gone home, and missed him all night? Would you have regretted saying no while you curled up in bed with no Cheshire-cat-grin-boy to hold? Or were you to remain in his bed, and pray you would survive the torture of not speaking your mind? His skin radiated the most wonderful warmth and you wanted to trace his lips with your eyes until you fell asleep. That’s how quickly it was decided.

“Okay,” you answered.

[songbirdsingingthings]

Warmth - Levi Ackerman x Reader

(can we take a minute to appreciate this gif omfg he’s too pretty)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4K

To put it lightly, working as a scout in the winter absolutely blows. The wind would bluster relentlessly, causing chills to go down your spine, it would be snowing more often than not, and the winter uniforms that were parceled out to everyone didn’t do enough to block the cold temperatures. But, of course, since you were a captain you needed to block out all of the shivers that claimed your body, clench your teeth to stop their chattering, and stand strong in front of the cadets that were at your mercy for the day.

“Attention!” You shouted, causing all of the scouts in front of you to step into a salute, standing completely still like statues. You sigh before you start to give out instructions for their workout, which did include some heavy conditioning, but was shorter than normal. Honestly though, you would’ve preferred to be in their place. While they were going to be enduring hell for about an hour and a half, the movement from their bodies would generate heat, the thing you were currently lacking. You tried to nestle yourself further into the fur trimmed trench coat you were wearing and pulled up the burgundy scarf, grasping for any form of warmth that you could get. 

“You look like an idiot.” You turned around quickly, instantly recognizing the speaker's voice, and shot him an unamused expression. Bundled up and sat atop his horse, your boyfriend, Levi, looked down at you with indifference in his eyes.

“I can accept that insult if my looking like this keeps me warm,” you huff, turning back around to look at the cadets. Some of them even began to shed their layers opting to simply wear their white button ups. You dig your mittened hands further into your coat pockets, feeling even colder just from looking at them. You hear a crunch of boots behind you, signaling that Levi hopped off his horse, and came to stand beside you.

“Shouldn’t have done that Levi, now you’re gonna have to have me help you back up.” You quip, earning a glare from the captain. He simply scoffs and elbows you, hard, in the side. “Ouch, what the hell.” you grumble.

“How much longer do you have to be out here,” he asks, his eyes on the tired cadets in front of him. You begrudgingly take out your hand to check your pocket watch, but end up reveling in the fact that they only had about ten more minutes left. You tell Levi about the time and he nods, making no effort to move.

“Are you waiting for me?” You inquire, a small smile spreading across your face. The raven-haired captain says nothing but stays put. Your smile widens into a grin and you step closer to him, your hips almost touching. “Thank you.” Levi hums in response and the two of you settle into a comfortable silence as you watch the scouts finish up. When it’s finally time, you make every cadet put their coats back on (you’d be damned if they caught a cold due to negligence) and ushered them back into the main building to grab some dinner before they could retire to the shower houses and then to their barracks. As they begin to wander off, Levi swiftly grabs onto your arm and leads you towards the captains’ quarters. “Hey I haven’t eaten yet!” You complain, tugging your body back towards the direction of the dining hall.

“I’ll get some delivered to your quarters, you need to warm yourself up.” He says, a definitive tone to his voice.

“I’m perfectly fine, it’ll only take a few minutes,” you protest, still hell-bent on getting food for yourself. You were a captain, for heaven’s sake, you were surely capable of getting food for yourself. Levi pauses to grab both of your arms, somewhat forcing you to look at him.

“You need to warm up. You get cold way too easily and then I have to hear an earful about it later. So get you and your red ass nose into your personal quarters and take a damn bath.” Levi states. You eventually give in under his ‘don’t test me’ gaze and grumble all the way back to the captains’ quarters with him by your side. The two of you part ways when you enter and you follow his directions and immediately fill up a bath with the warmest water you could get. While you hated the cold weather with a burning passion, the feeling of your shivering body being enveloped by warm bath water will never cease to be one of your favorite feelings. You close your eyes and lean back, soaking up the warmth when you hear a door open. You panic for a second and try to cover yourself with a towel in fear that a higher up, or worse, a cadet has managed to make their way into your quarters.

“I-I’m not decent! Please wait outside!” You say, sounding a little strangled, but the door opens anyways. Thankfully it reveals Levi.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” He says, closing the door with his foot. You give him a glare, but your expression instantly lightens when you see a tray of food in his hands. He takes you in and lets a small chuckle escape his mouth. “Warmer?” He asks, setting down the tray on the little side table next to you. You sit up a bit in the bath and snatch the spoon from his hands, sinking it into the soup and bringing it to your mouth. You hum at the taste - for some reason, today they had splurged on the scout regiment and supplied them with beef and barley soup instead of the usual bean soup.

“Warmer.” you confirm, digging back into the soup and dipping some of your bread into it. “Good.” Levi says, standing up to press a kiss onto your head and exiting the bathroom, giving you a bit more time to yourself. When you were done with both your dinner and your bath, you drained the tub and gingerly stepped out of it, wrapping a towel snug around your body. You step out to see Levi in your bed, donned in his sleepwear, and a book in his hands. You smile as you make your way over to the wardrobe stationed in the corner of your room and take out the warmest pair of sleepwear you could find - a wool long sleeve that you used to wear before you became a scout, and a pair of long pants that just covered your ankles. You pad your way over to your side of the bed and climb in, quickly covering yourself in the blankets. Levi spares you a glance, gives a small smile, and returns his gaze to his book; not before he lifts his arm closest to you, giving you the signal that you could come close to him. You take the opportunity immediately and glom onto his side. For some weird reason, Levi’s bodily temperature always seemed to run hot while yours was consistently colder, making him just that more wantable to you. “Y’know sometimes I think you just use me as a personal heater and nothing else.” He remarks, setting his book down on the side table and blowing out the candle next to him.

“Yeah, and what if I do.” You mumble back to him, your eyes drooping closed, exhaustion seemingly taking over your body. You feel his body shift as he slides down to rest his head on the pillow and pulls you closer to him. His chin finds purchase on top of your head, his other arm wrapping around your waist.

“Then fine.” He says, making you laugh a bit.

“You’d be fine if I was just using you for your warmth?” You quip back, snuggling your head further into the crick of his neck. He hums and rubs circles into your hip with his thumb.

“Anything to get you to stop complaining. It’s annoying when you do that.” He says, his own eyes closing now. The two of you didn’t say anything else, it wasn’t really necessary to. You understood everything Levi said and picked out its meanings through his own special language that you’d grown accustomed to throughout the years of dating him. His responses and remarks that sounded condescending in speech could easily be interpreted into a much simpler meaning. ‘I love you and I don’t want you to be cold.’

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love Pt. 2 (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T? Maybe? Almost the exact opposite of the first one. Language, minor violence Genre: Fluff, mainly, with admittedly a little bit of humor? I blame my lack of sleep. And my adhd. Warnings: Implied cannibalism adjacent activities because guess what honey, this is a fucked up family, what do you expect of me??? Sure, they have breakfast in this, there's cute stuff, but c'mon, they don't eat flowers and oatmeal! Notes: Doubt it needs to be said, but this is a sequel to the good ending of part one. Also Cass has one line in this that might be OOC, or seem oddly placed, but admittedly this chapter is also loosely based on a dream I had, and I couldn't not include the few direct quotations I remembered, and she seemed the most likely to say the line. And yes, there will be a part 3, because I am weak and also kind of maybe made this one less plot-moving than intended.

{Wounded Love: The re-woundening}

Every step ached more than the last, even with Alcina supporting you. She had wanted to carry you down the stairs, of course, but you had insisted that you would be fine. Now you were just determined not to complain out loud. One yelp or cry and you’d be scooped up in her arms, surely to be carried for the rest of the day. As much as you appreciated your girlfriend’s assistance, you hated feeling useless, and hated putting a burden on others. So here you were, one arm wrapped around Alcina’s waist, limping ever-so-slowly towards the dining room.

Further ahead (unburdened by your injury) the three Dimitrescu daughters talk among themselves, voices hushed as they too headed for breakfast. It was odd to see them all awake, and socializing, as there was usually at least one who came to meals late. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with your condition… or the circumstances that had caused it.

Less than eighteen hours had passed since your fight with a stray lycan, and tension had been high since. While you hadn’t yet spoken to the sisters, you had spoken to Alcina, who had briefly mentioned their concern for you. Whether they actually cared about you as a person or just cared because you are dating their mother is unclear. Based on how they had acted while treating your wounds, though, you were inclined to think that they were fond of you. And seeing as Alcina had already vowed to get revenge on your behalf… well, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her daughters intended to assist.

“Careful on the last step, dear,” Alcina says, positioned as to catch you if you fell. It takes a little willpower to resist the urge to hop down the rest of the way. As long as you landed on your uninjured leg, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Still, irritating your girlfriend first thing in the morning felt like a pretty stupid thing to do. Instead you just nodded, slowing down even more, and took visible care not to trip. “Good girl.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say that being careful didn’t have its rewards.

“I have my moments,” you replied, blush rising to your cheeks. Suddenly your pain didn’t feel so bad (at least until you took another step and winced). “Damn, who woulda thought that cutting a chunk out of my leg would make it hurt more?” The leg in question throbbed in pain, as if to prove your point, protesting the weight you put on it. Changing the angle at which you stood helped some, allowing the lower half of the limb to bear more of the burden.

“Dearest…” Alcina starts to say, looking like she was going to readdress her desire to carry you. For a moment you try to avoid her gaze, but she moves in front of you, making sure that you could still hold onto her for support. “I know how you feel, how you want, desperately, to be independent. When I was first… granted this gift, it took a long time to adjust. There was so much I had to relearn how to do, so much that I suddenly needed done for me.” A pause, a deep breath. At last you look up at your girlfriend, warmth in your heart, reaching out to hold her hand. “You have time, my dear, and plenty of it. More than that… this will not last forever. The more you push yourself, the longer your recovery will take. Now, please, allow me to assist. You have already proven how strong you are.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain… but if you insist, who am I to decline? Or, well, who am I to decline twice in a row?” You answer, somewhat begrudgingly. It wasn’t much farther to the dining room, you figured, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss to accept help. Or at least that was what you told yourself. Even with Alcina’s encouragement it was so hard for you to accept her help. After all, you were the one that worked for her. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat responsible for your injury- really, you were actively avoiding thinking about that.

It’s much easier to forget once Alcina carefully picks you up. One arm goes under your legs, the other under your chest, lifting you without any effort. You might as well have been a kitten or a child’s toy. The movement does, however, shift your injured leg in such a way that it aches. At this point you can hardly move the limb at all without it hurting, and even the slightest friction against the bandage makes your eyes water.

Apparently someone would be delivering some painkillers later in the day. You assumed it would be The Duke (whose name is apparently not Doug, as you had thought), seeing as he knew some special way to get to and fro without risking the same fate that had befallen you. Which, of course, made you feel a lot better. Getting someone else hurt would weigh on your mind forever.

Regardless, you were safe now, as was your strange, bloody little family. Before long you would even be enjoying a pleasant meal together. Certainly that would help get your mind off of your wound? For now, though, you were met with an unexpected impasse. The sort of impasse that really, really should have been expected.

“Why… is the doorway… so small?” You asked, jokingly, as you stare into the mildly embarrassed face of your girlfriend. It’s already hard enough for her to crouch through the gap normally. When she’s carrying you? Impossible. “Can we ask Mother Miranda for bigger doors? She gave you eternal life and also three kids, she’s gotta be capable of making bigger doors. Put me down, I’ll go call her and-”

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Alcina cuts you off, not fully appreciating this part of your humor. Or maybe she had already asked for bigger doors, only to be told no?... Okay, yeah, it was probably the first option. With a sigh she sets you down, as gently as she can manage. Ready and raring to go, you start to hobble forward, only to find all three of the daughters waiting for you, just beyond the door. They’re grinning as they watch you, and Bela extended her arm to offer her help. “What appears to be the matter?” Alcina asks from behind you. Accepting your fate and Bela’s arm, you let the sisters guide you to the table, Cassandra holding your other side, and Daniela pulls your chair out for you. Honestly it’s pretty adorable. Evidently your girlfriend agrees, from the way she smiles as she follows.

“Thank you,” you say, more out of reflex than genuine gratitude. Again, you weren’t thrilled about needing this assistance. If the girls notice they’re at least polite enough not to mention it. They simply move to their own seats at the large table, eager to dig in. It feels… strange, to be here, on this side of things. Stranger still to realize you’re the only one intending to eat actual food. There’s wine in your glass, but it’s a much fainter red than those you’ve previously served to your girlfriend. Thank goodness, you think, after how raw my throat was yesterday, I really don’t need to taste any more blood.

Once Lady Dimitrescu sits down, the meal formally begins, with several maidens appearing from the kitchen. Several seem relieved to see you, although surprised, and one even gave you a brief smile. The smile did not last, however. It wasn’t unexpected, considering the nature of her job, the pressures that it put upon her. No one smiled at mealtimes. Well, no maidens, that is. They simply moved around, wordlessly, faces blank, doing exactly as instructed. Only a few days ago you had been among them, fear keeping you in line. Was it wrong of you to care for Alcina, knowing what she was capable of doing to others? Knowing what she might have, in another life, done to you?

A maiden places a plate of warm food, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit, in front of you. For a moment your eyes meet, but she looks away instinctively. Your heart threatens to break.

“This looks wonderful, thank you for your hard work, all of you,” you speak up, glancing at each of the women working so hard. There’s more you want to say that dries in your throat; you are valued, you are deserving, someday I will join your ranks again.

“You don’t need to thank them, they’re just doing their jobs,” Cassandra chimes from the other side of the table. Hearing her say that damn near makes you drop your fork. It’s not an uncommon settlement, particularly among older generations and the rich, but one that irks you nonetheless.

“They’re doing my job. They are taking on extra work, for no pay, because I am injured. Why would I be so cruel as to ignore them? Have I not toiled alongside them enough to call them my kin?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even. Next to you Alcina is slowly cutting into her meat, watching the scene unfold out of the corner of her eyes, perhaps considering when to step in. On the other end of the table, Bela looks increasingly uncomfortable, as if silently willing her sister into silence. None of the maidens have reacted to what you said, likely too afraid of Cassandra to even consider speaking.

“Ooooh, this is much more fun than our usual breakfasts,” Daniela says, stifling a giggle. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share? Preferably ones that aren’t about me.” At this, Alcina sets her utensils down, clearly intending to put an end to the discussion. Unfortunately for her, you were a bit… impulsive, especially considering the previous night’s activities had left your mind struggling to cope.

“Dead lycans smell terrible. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, easily, no question about it,” you answer, shrugging a little as you do. It’s such a simple thought that you almost don’t realize how the others at the table react. Until the clatter of silverware on the table catches your attention, that is. All three sisters are eying you with different expressions (Bela is confused, Cass is impressed, and Daniela looks shocked). But it’s Alcina’s wide-eyed stare that gets you to elaborate. “Should I have said ‘a dead lycan’? I only got one, so I guess I shouldn’t say they all smell bad. C’mon, though, they have to all smell bad, right?”

Suddenly Daniela shifts from shock to pure amusement, a fit of giggles overtaking her. You’re still confused, not sure what the matter was, so you just sip your wine and hope someone asks the right questions.

“You… killed the lycan that attacked you?” Bela finally says, after a few moments of her sister laughing, expression still incredulous. When you nod she sort of shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “May I ask how you managed that?”

“Oh, you know, I just meh meh-” you mime a stabbing motion with your fork- “until the stupid thing stopped moving. I had to use a tree branch as a weapon, but then it broke after a few whacks, which actually helped because then I had two stabbing implements to, you know, stab with. That’s right around when it got my leg, and it tried to bite me. Thankfully it wasn’t very smart, so when it leapt at me I just hyah-” this time an upwards strike- “right into its neck. That didn’t kill it, but it was enough to slow it down, which allowed me to stab the other half of the branch into its skull. Made this horrible, horrible sound as it died. Seeing as we are eating, I will not imitate the sound. Not that I could, now that I think about it…”

Once again there’s silence. Even Daniela has quieted now, and is watching you with rapt interest, likely hoping that you’re hiding another story up your sleeves.

“So… did you guys actually think that I managed to run away from the lycan? Or were you under the impression that it simply got bored of me and left?” You ask, casually returning to your breakfast afterwards. No one says anything, at first, taking in your words as best as they can. A few moments later both Daniela and Bela resume their meal, as nonchalant as one could be in the current situation. Alcina, however, rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with a loving look.

“You will never cease to amaze me, my dear. But let us ensure you never have to… smell, or see, one of those wretched things again, yes?” She says, softly squeezing you as she does. You can’t help but agree, and nod eagerly, mouth too full of hashbrowns to speak. Still, there’s been a shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s not that the family didn’t respect you before, as far as you can tell, but they evidently hadn’t expected you to prove as capable as you had. It brings a sense of pride to the forefront of your mind, making you completely forget about your injury for the remainder of the meal.

Unable to stop yourself, you insist on helping the other maidens clean up, and Alcina eventually agrees to let you wash a few dishes- as long as you stay sitting the entire time. The last thing you hear before you shuffle off to the kitchen is the start of a conversation between Cassandra and her mother.

“You picked quite a feisty one, didn’t you?”

“That I did, that I did…”

[jinkicake]

Heeeyyyyyy! I was the one who asked for the cat passing comfort with Seijoh Karasuno and Kamomedai pls!

Hi~~~ Pls let me know if you want me to try and write more for any of these (like Karasuno's isn't as long as the others bc I found it so hard to write)!!! Sigh, I've never cried while writing something before but,, I did sob while writing these LMFAO so they might be bad and poorly edited,,, senior pet owner tingz :PPPP Anyway~ (also it was my first time writing with Kamomedai so... I hope they are in character...)

WC- 3k

Kamomedai

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Hirugami quietly starts, slowly opening the classroom door in a calming manner. “I heard everything,” The middle blocker nearly cringes but ultimately contains his composure, how the hell is he supposed to lighten the situation. “I’m really sorry. Are you okay?”

One look into your tearful expression and frazzled state tells Hirugami everything, of course, you’re not okay.

“It’s alright, Hirugami, really.” You offer him a wobbly smile, one that does you more harm than good as a sob crawls its way up your throat. Quickly, you try to wipe a tear off of your cheek before swallowing tightly and trying again. “You should get to practice.”

Hirugami wants to desperately run his hand through his hair and express his frustrations but, he remains calm for you and for the situation. Why can’t you just express your feelings with him?

“Hirugami! (Y/N)! We have practice, let’s go!” Hoshiumi’s voice rings throughout the classroom, abruptly stopping when he notices your tearful expression. “Oh no. Hirugami how could you reject (Y/N)!” Hoshiumi complains, groaning out loud, at the confession scene and his friend’s lack of taste.

“It’s not that, that’s not what’s happening here.” Hirugami tries to explain, gesturing generously with his hands in order to keep his ace at bay.

“I’m just dealing with something personal.” You quietly whisper and finally gather your things off of your desk.

“(Y/N),” Hirugami attempts to stop you, placing his arm out in front of you so that you can’t get past the door.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You nearly choke, your flustered state getting the best of you. You feel like you might melt to the floor any second now, you’re so overwhelmed and your teammates are not making it any easier. “Please let me go to practice.”

Hirugami hesitantly lifts his arm up, watching you as you flee from the classroom and out into the hallway. It’s so silent and tense in the room, he all but sighs.

“I got it mixed up, didn’t I?” Hoshiumi asks, lightly scratching his head as he closes his eyes in thought. “(Y/N) rejected you, didn’t they?”

“No, it was not a confession scene.” Hirugami clarifies as he grabs his bag and walks out into the hallway, after you.

“What was it then?” Hoshiumi can’t help but get nosy, he’s curious and might explode if he doesn’t find out what exactly happened.

“I don’t really think it is my place to tell you. I’m not even supposed to know.” This time, Hirugami sighs loudly and his eyebrows furrow in worry. He’s not even sure why he is so distraught over this, if it’s because of you or the situation you’re in. “Apparently, their cat has to be put down.” His voice is so quiet, it’s almost a whisper. Not even Hoshiumi has anything to say right away.

“That’s really upsetting, (Y/N) always talks about that old hag.” Hoshiumi somberly stares ahead of him, his worry growing just as quickly as his teammates. “They don’t want to talk about it?”

“I guess not.” Hirugami frowns and stubbornly acknowledges your will.

“Then we just have to be there for them! Give (Y/N) support like they give us!” Hoshiumi lightly taps his cheeks, bracing his game face. “Subtly show support while acting as normal as possible.”

Hirugami wants to sigh, that’s easier said than done.

“Come on, let’s go out to eat!” Hoshiumi announces as he steps in front of your path the minute practice is over, he crosses his arms over his chest to ensure that you don’t get away from him.

“I’m not really in the mood,” You sigh and shift the strap of your bag higher up on your shoulder. “you and Hirugami go.”

“(Y/N), we need you to babysit,” Suwa calls from the supply closet, busying himself with a mindless task. As a second-year it was only natural for Suwa to put you in charge of the other second years, specifically the most animated ones.

“I’m tired!"

“If those two get in trouble then it’s on you,”

“Fine, fine. Where are we going?” You bitterly blink back tears of frustration that have welled up in your eyes and try to remain calm, in reality, all you want to do is go home and sleep. The mere thought of your warm bed waiting for you is enough to have you sniffling in irritation. At your question, Hoshiumi gives you a supportive pat on the back as his head tilts up in thought.

“Let’s just go to a convenience store!”

“And have a picnic?” You ask sarcastically but Hoshiumi’s eyes light up, the idea clearly resonates with him.

“Yes! Let’s go! Let’s go!” The shorter second year grabs his close friend by the arm and pulls the three of you close together. “Hirugami, let’s go!”

The walk to the convenience store isn’t long, if anything, Hoshiumi fills up the silence with endless chatter. Rants rest on his lips as he recalls events from earlier in the day, he’s all too consumed with his words to even notice you and Hirugami trailing a few paces behind him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hirugami asks lowly, dipping his head to ensure that you can hear him. “Talk to me, (Y/N).”

“I’m fine,” You quietly murmur back, biting down on your tongue and hoping that if you say the lie enough that you’ll start to believe it.

“I know that you aren’t,” Hirugami continues to push, his head tilts back as he stares up at the night sky and not at the frustrated look on your face.

“What do you want me to say, Hirugami?” You finally snap, your anger boiling beneath the surface, your voice is loud enough that it even catches Hoshiumi’s attention.

“What?”

“I have to lose someone special to me, important to me? That I’ll never see again? Do you really think that I am okay? What kind of stupid question is that?!” You spit, voice raising in octaves as your nerve ends begin to fry.

“(Y/N),” Hoshiumi tries to gently rest his hand over yours but you snap your wrist away before he gets the chance.

“No, I am not okay, Hirugami. Stop pushing me about it.” Your water eyes do nothing to help your case and you bitterly try to push them away with the heel of your palm.

“Don’t forget that we are here for you!” Hoshiumi declares, his voice holding that same serious tone that you only hear during matches. “Just tell us. We want to be here for you.”

His words only make your defenses crack even further and when Hirugami opens his arms, you just about lose it. When one of your closest friends offers a hug, who are you to deny it? Even Hirugami hums in thought.

“We’ll always be with you, (Y/N). Don’t go quiet on us.”

Karasuno

“(Y/N),” Sugawara quietly gasps as he enters the gym early one morning. The last thing the setter expected to see was you, bawling your eyes out, just as the sun was beginning to rise. “what’s wrong?”

You push your tears away with your palms before finally looking up to meet your friend’s worried gaze, his doe eyes only making you feel more anxious.

“Nothing, I mean,” You suck in a harsh breath and try to keep the tears at bay, but to no avail. “my cat has to be put down.”

Sugawara can only watch with an aching heart as you curl in on yourself, bringing your knees to your chest as you sob into your hands.

“Sorry, I was trying to stay calm but I just found out and,” You’re unable to speak as another sob wracks your body, Sugawara is by your side before you can even blink. He gently places one of his hands on your band, softly rubbing circles into your skin while trying to calm you down. “I think I am just going to skip practice.”

“No one would blame you,” Your friend gently coos, momentarily making eye contact with a first-year who had just entered the gym. Tsukishima, followed by Yamaguchi, only makes a face at the scene before him as he enters the locker room. Yamaguchi offers the two of you a sympathetic smile and then follows his friend. “people are starting to enter the gym, do you want to leave?”

All you can do is nod.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Or the rest of the team, any of us can help.” Sugawara gently leads you to your shared classroom, offering you tissues from his bag as he does so. “Daichi and Asahi will do anything for you, you know this.” The playfulness in his words makes you softly smile.

“I’ll let you know if I can think of anything.” You reassure him and Sugawara grabs his hand in yours before offering a heartfelt squeeze.

“Can I tell them what’s going on, the team?” Sugawara is surprised by your tight nod and your verbal acceptance.

“I think, if I’m going to be absent from practice the next couple of days then it’s only fair.”

“Hmm, alright,”

The next you saw of any of your team members was until later in the day. Much to your surprise, you were practically tackled by a short first year as he desperately clung to your arm as a supportive gesture.

“(Y/N)! I hear what happened, I’m so sorry,” Hinata pouts, his hair visibly deflating under his sympathy. “I love your cat! You always take the best pictures of them!”

“Oh, thanks, Hinata.” Your smile turns wobbly as you face the first year and you glance up at the ceiling to try and hold back any tears.

“Do you want me to go with you to the vet? Or we can hang out after school to get your mind off of it?”

“Hinata, I really appreciate it, but aren’t you only procrastinate to find a way to get out of doing your homework.” You tease him and gently flick his forehead, to which the younger player’s nose scrunches up in denial.

“No, of course not! Tsukishima is going to help me study!” Hinata almost screeches, desperate to get you to believe him.

“Is he really?” Your disbelief must be apparent on your face, judging by the dejected sigh from Hinata you must’ve caught him right in the lie.

“No."

The rest of the day followed as normal, it was as if nothing had changed but you still had that impending feeling of dread clouded over you.

Well, your day wasn’t completely normal. Even your shyer first years had come up to speak with you, Kageyama and Tsukishima had even gone as far as to mutter their condolences without so much of a hint of sarcasm.

It seemed as if you were still surrounded by the same level of chaos that you were already accustomed to. Except, Nishinoya and Tanaka’s screams in your ear were much quieter than normal.

Your entire team knew something was going on and were all going to support you through it.

Seijoh

“(Y/N)?” Kindaichi gently calls out your name, poking his head around the corner when he hears your quiet sobs. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He timidly tries to reach out to you but is too unafraid to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing to upset you even more.

Kindaichi has no idea of what to do when someone is crying.

“Obviously not.” Kunimi sneers and judgmentally glares at his friend, his overall face softens when he looks back at you. “(Y/N)?”

“I heard my poor manager’s sobs from a mile away! Baby, what’s wrong?” Oikawa pushes past his underclassmen dramatically, skillfully dodging a hit from Iwaizumi when the pet name leaves his lips. The setter sits right next to you on the bench and wraps his arms around your shoulders before pulling you into his chest, the warmth of his chest melts all of your resistance away and you can’t help but sob into his chest.

It’s a few minutes before you can pull yourself together, to even form a coherent sentence.

Iwaizumi sits on the other side of you and gently rubs your back while the two first years had run to find their other upperclassmen.

“My cat,” You start out, trying your best to swallow the sob in your throat. Even as tears well up in your eyes you try to push through it, just to get it out. “she has to be put down.” Although your voice is soft and just barely above a whisper, it still echos in the empty hallway.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” Iwaizumi speaks up and nearly flicks off Oikawa when he notices his captain tearing up. “You know we’re always here for you whenever you need it.”

“Always, always!” Oikawa sobs, finally breaking as he wraps his arms around you even tighter. He practically squeezes the life out of you and refuses to let you go.

And as much as Iwaizumi loves to tease Oikawa for being so sensitive, as the cancer he is, he can’t help but appreciate the sympathy he is able to deliver.

“We’ll be there any day that you need it.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa are, they follow through with their words, and even rope in Matsukawa and Hanamaki. The other third years don’t even have to be asked when the situation is explained to them, they’re there before Oikawa can even notice it.

“Be graceful.” Oikawa lowly warns with a brightly fake smile, narrowing his eyes at his friends. “We have to be helpful to our manager.”

“Obviously, dumbass.” Iwaizumi spits out and pushes past him to ring your doorbell, patiently waiting for you to answer your door.

“Iwaizumi?” You furrow your brows as you open the door wide enough for just your face to be seen, the wider it grows the more people come into your view. “What are you all doing here?”

“Moral support!” Oikawa pouts as he offers you a hug, one that you gratefully accept. Matsukawa places his hand on Oikawa’s shoulders and leans in just enough for the setter to hear what he has to say.

“Real graceful.” After he pats his shoulder, Matsukawa enters your house with his other friends trailing behind him.

“Do you want something to eat?” Hanamaki offers as he quickly finds himself in your kitchen. “You’ve eaten lately, right?”

“Umm, sorta?” You have to drag Oikawa further into your home and blink away the fresh tears pooling in your eyes once you notice just how quiet it is. “it’s fine.”

“Here, here, they’ll make you something~” Oikawa coos and pushes you onto your couch before sitting down right beside you. Hanamaki has to bite back the insult that is simmering on his tongue.

“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s the best at comfort.” Iwaizumi whispers quietly, trying to keep his glare in front of him and not on his best friend. “Let him do his thing.”

“His thing? You mean sympathy?” Matsukawa nearly rolls his eyes and goes down to sit beside you on the couch.

“I’m sure she loved you very very much, (Y/N)! You always had so many stories about her and so much history together!” Oikawa tries to reassure you and places his hands over the tops of your own. “You can tell me more stories, oh, or let’s name a holiday after her!”

“So good at comfort.” Hanamaki coughs and ducks the moment Iwaizumi swings at him, almost fighting back with the spoon in his hand.

“(Y/N), it was her time and that’s okay, you know that right?” Matsukawa asks you, staring intently at the side of your face as you numbly stare ahead. All you can muster is a weak nod as you feel your throat tighten up and tears stubbornly pinching at the corner of your eyes. “She loved you very much and will be okay, she’s doing better now.”

“I understand, Matsukawa.” You shakily whisper and are unable to swallow the sob in your throat. “It’s just hard without her.”

“I know, (Y/N).”

Oikawa whimpers quietly beside you and pulls you into his chest as he tries to hide his teary expression from your view.

“We will make a beautiful garden for her! Or, or name a street after her!” The captain can’t stop himself from trying to help come up with a comforting memorial, something to help you grieve.

“Whatever it is that you pick (Y/N),” Iwaizumi finally comes into view and pushes an ice cream sandwich to you as an offer. “we’ll be here to help support you. Forever how long you need.”

“Always, (Y/N)!” Hanamaki yells from your kitchen as Matsukawa gently tugs on your sweater.

“For now,” Iwaizumi pauses before taking a seat on your floor. “why don’t you tell us some of your favorite memories while Hanamaki finishes cooking what he thinks to be your favorite dish.”

“It is their favorite! They told me themselves!” Hanamaki retorts back, defending himself as Matsukawa lifts his hand in a gesture meaning he can vouch.

“Or tell us funny stories about her.” Oikawa sniffles, smoothly wiping the tear off of his cheek. “Or we can watch your favorite tv show? Or we can go get your favorite snacks like a little trip down to the convenience store?”

“Whatever it is, (Y/N), we’ll do it.” Iwaizumi tells you firmly, looking you deep enough in the eye for you to know that he means every word of it.

@kiwibirdmother

[therealvinelle]

The illustrious then-@keerka, who now goes by @troquantary, sent me the following ask. Tumblr, of course, ate it, but luckily for us all I store all my asks on an outside server, so it wasn’t lost.

(A moment of silence for the fact that I took so long to answer this one that the ask was eaten and the asker got a new blog in the meantime.)

This was the ask:

Hi! When you have time, I'd love to hear more about your thoughts on the worldbuilding in Twilight and its logical consistency (if that's not too vague a question to even pose). For me it's almost hard to assess because the canon universe feels very...sparse? Kind of undeveloped? But that also means more room to develop headcanons, so I'm not complaining. Curious to know what you think, though!

This is my answer:

I think I’ll divide my answer in two sections, first I’ll give you an example of a franchise that has poor worldbuilding, then get into my thoughts on Meyer’s worldbuilding.

Supernatural.

Low-hanging fruit, but all the better an example for it. 

Supernatural introduces us to a world where everything is real. Everything that goes bump in the night, every myth and every monster, it’s all real, and 99% of them are out to hurt people. Who will stand against this evil, you may ask? Why, a scruffy but all-American bunch of self-declared hunters. These people are not organized, in fact most of them work alone. They are all outlaws. Their expertise is questionable, as Bobby Singer is considered remarkable for the fact that he usually knows what something is.

That’s it.

These people, all of them independent, most of them weird as fuck, are it. You’re in 21st century America, your country wields the most formidable military force in the world, and if something supernatural is wreaking havoc in your town you’d best hope one of these hunter nutjobs happens to have spotted the right newspaper clipping.

We’re offered no explanation as to why the American government doesn’t know about the supernatural, or why the world doesn’t look completely different. In our world, people don’t believe in ghosts because ghosts aren’t real, but in the world of Supernatural, people don’t believe in ghosts because [footage not found].

There’s no demon nor government conspiracy to keep the world at large ignorant, in fact this subject is never broached.

Hunters would make sense if they were bountyhunters, but they’re not. The secrecy could make sense if the angels were behind it, but they’re not.

“Maybe the military does know!” you might say, “it’s just that they don’t let the hunters know they know!” Well, we would have found out in season 5. Dean and Sam were caught up in the apocalypse, the government would definitely have gotten involved with that one.

Then we have the fact that the supernatural entities aren’t internally consistent either. We have angels, demons, humans - good, got it. I know what these three are in relation to each other. But, wait, we have wendigos, banshees, ghosts, witches, vampires, and tricksters as well. How do they all fit into the same world? How does the Christian God and every pagan pantheon, both of which are canon per Supernatural, fit into the same world? Who knows? Not Supernatural.

Supernatural is a world that is written on an episode-to-episode basis, by writers who wanted that gritty bounty-hunter aesthetic for their show about supernatural marks.

Back to Twilight.

Twilight, by comparison, makes a great deal of sense to me. 

I’ll admit that some of this is me reading into the text a lot, but I do that with every fandom I’m in. Twilight is a rare one where I can find an answer to every question.

We have these insanely powerful vampires whose exploits leave no survivors and whose numbers are kept low because it’s so hard to create a new one. They’re kept in line by a powerful organization no one can fight, and new laws are created as Aro discovers new threats (Immortal children, his debate on what to do with Renesmée). There are at least two other supernatural species out there, but of the two mentioned one is in place to protect humans, and the other was run extinct by the very organization that keeps vampires in line as well. None of this is fantheory, this is canon as Meyer created it.

Of course, I’ve gone some strange places in guessing why the Volturi exist, why the world of Twilight looks the same as ours, and why the supernatural world appears so limited. However, all of these things are extrapolated from canon. And I can extrapolate very easily because Twilight canon is consistent.

And this here segues into section two of my reply to you, as I imagine you (and many others reading this) are now saying “It’s not solid worldbuilding if the fans are doing all the work!”

Well, again - the difference between her and a lot of other authors is that when I overthink her work I find satisfying answers. That’s not a given, for instance I can’t do that with GRRM’s A Song and Ice and Fire, and half the point of that series is the worldbuilding! (My complains are many, I had to cut them from this meta, but the big one: why don’t the peasants revolt?)

I can’t think of a single plot hole in Twilight, nor of a logical inconsistency. Something either makes sense right off the bat, or I can look a little closer and easily piece together a logical explanation.

More, there’s no excess. I suppose this is what others don’t like about Meyer’s worldbuilding, but I enjoy it. Characters don’t prattle fun facts about things that ultimately don’t matter to the story, and if they do then it turns out later that yes, it did matter. Quite notably, when Carlisle gives Bella a crash course on vampire history, Meyer skips all of it except the part about immortal children, because that’s what was important. Later in that same book we meet Amun and the Romanians, and learn what the world used to be like, so it’s not like Meyer hadn’t come up with it. She left it out because it would have been off-topic and meandering.

This is where Meyer’s approach to worldbuilding comes in. It seems to me that she created the people and the story first, and then let the world they lived in fall into place around them, rather than the other way around. Now, there’s no right way to worldbuild, but I personally prefer authors who do it this way. To my tastes it generally leads to better stories, as this kind of author will show you the world through the story. We discover it as we go along and it becomes relevant to our characters, and if we don’t learn everything about it then that’s fine, though we’ve been given enough clues to guess. Consistency is key in this.

By contrast, authors who do it the other way around and build the world in full detail first, usually end up with worse stories. They get lost in their worldbuilding more often than not, their worlds end up so complex they’re inconsistent, and the story gets off-topic. Too much worldbuilding distracts from the story while adding nothing.

(There are of course exceptions to both, and I have more thoughts on this, but overall this has been my experience with fiction. Too much worldbuilding is in fact too much.)

The world should always serve the story, not the other way around.

(Again gonna use GRRM as an example. I don’t give a fuck about Aragorn’s tax policy. It’s not important to the story.)

So, these are my rambly thoughts on how I think.

There’s also the fact that, judging by Twilight and The Host, Meyer is just plain good at worldbuilding. She gets very good ideas, and she’s intelligent enough to successfully implement them into a story (look to Supernatural for an un-intelligent way of impleneting good ideas). And that’s all I ask.

[theggning]

I posted 852 times in 2021

157 posts created (18%)

695 posts reblogged (82%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 4.4 posts.

I added 761 tags in 2021

#fallout 4 - 257 posts

#gg answers - 101 posts

#laugh rule - 91 posts

#paladin danse - 65 posts

#fallout meta - 50 posts

#danse/piper - 46 posts

#anonymous - 38 posts

#nick valentine - 38 posts

#lmfao - 38 posts

#piper wright - 37 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#regardless of the current fandom party line re: the superiority of new vegas which fed my children watered my crops and moisturized my skin

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I'm a little late, but if you're still doing them, opinions/thoughts on Nick Valentine? I'm dying to hear you go into detail about him.

Me, gushing about Nick Valentine? Don't mind if I do~

I've been playing FO4 since launch, and from my very first playthrough, Nick has been my favorite character in the game (and really, one of my all-time favs.) This is hardly an unpopular opinion. Everybody, even people who don't like FO4 as a whole seem to love Nick and he's widely lauded as one of the best characters in the series.

I think one of the things that makes Nick stand out is just how remarkably kind he is. I keep using that word on these posts, but I think it applies to Nick more than basically any other character. Nick is an honorable man with uncommon empathy for others and a sophisticated sense of justice-- but also an impressive sense of mercy (he is one of the only companions who approve of you sparing the deathclaw egg and returning it to its parent.) As long as you don't act like a total dickweed around him, he almost immediately treats you as a friend and not a client, caring about your personal well-being and emotional state (he also never even expects payment from you. We find out this is a thing he does fairly often via idle dialogue with NPCs.) He's not self-righteous, he's not arrogant, he doesn't think he's better than other people, and he's not in it for fame or accolades or money. Nick does the right thing because it's right. He helps people because they need it. In many ways, Nick is one of the most humane characters in the wasteland. Which is of course ironic because he's not human at all.

See the full post

120 notes • Posted 2021-06-19 19:42:25 GMT

#4

In Defense of Piper Wright

DISCLAIMER: People have opinions. People have different tastes in characters, and things that they like and dislike about characters. You are allowed to like whatever characters you want and dislike whatever others for whatever reason you want. You can read everything I say here and go “yeah but I still don’t like her” and that’s fine. There are popular characters in all of my fandoms that I still don’t care for much, and that’s okay! I still like to understand how they are written and what makes them tick.

I like Piper. I think she’s funny and charming and it’s very refreshing to see a bossy, outspoken, pushy, but overall courageous and goodhearted woman in a prominent role. But I’ve been kickin’ around this fandom for a bit now and I have repeatedly seen some incredibly uncharitable takes on Piper, a lot of which strike me as either hugely generalizing or frankly, something I don’t think would be directed at a male character with Piper’s same role and traits.

A lot of people complain that Bethesda “puts no thought into their characters”  which I find often translates to “I have not spent any time with this character”  (or less often, “this character is not exactly the way I would like them to be, therefore Bethesda is bad writers.”) Most of the companions in FO4 are quite nuanced and multi-faceted, and you learn things about them by traveling with them and talking to them, hearing their comments on various events and locations. Piper is in the unique position of being featured briefly in the main quest, so meeting her is not optional, though having her as a companion is. Because of this, I feel like many people stick with the basic first impression they get of her, and dismiss her on that alone.

So today in my TED Talk, I would like to discuss some common takes I’ve seen on Piper and provide canon evidence why I think they’re off base or overblown. You are free to agree or disagree with my opinion and you can like or dislike Piper, but there is some stuff flying around that is just not supported by canon at all.

See the full post

167 notes • Posted 2021-02-20 23:31:19 GMT

#3

Ma'am? There is a slight flaw in your cunning plan.

235 notes • Posted 2021-04-27 05:23:24 GMT

#2

I Hate the Alternate Ending of Blind Betrayal, and Here's Why!

DISCLAIMER THE FIRST: Massive spoilers for Fallout 4 abound. This post discusses Blind Betrayal, a quest with suicide as a heavy theme. Content warning applies.

DISCLAIMER THE SECOND: This post discusses cut OFFICIAL content from Fallout 4 that has since been repurposed into multiple mods. I am not criticizing any modders or their implementations of this content. Mods are fun and people can enjoy whatever the hell kind of game experience they want with whatever mods they want.

I am ONLY interested in discussing the original cut content as Bethesda had written it, and how it would have impacted the story and lore of Fallout 4.

So, yeah, it seems there was originally going to be another way to conclude Blind Betrayal (BB).

As described in this Kotaku article (citing this post by Tumblr user tentacle-explosion,) there are unused audio files of Danse’s dialogue that show an alternate ending to his pivotal quest. These lines are the only evidence we have of this ending (suggesting that it was cut fairly early on, as no other actors/characters seem to have recorded for it.)

From what we can tell, in this alternate ending of BB, Danse comes up with a possible way out of the sticky situation re: his identity as a synth. According to the Brotherhood Litany, he is able to challenge Maxson’s authority as Elder via combat. If you agree to this idea, you go with Danse to challenge Maxson. The Paladin and the Elder duel one another, Danse wins, and Maxson dies. Then Danse names the Sole Survivor the new Elder-- or with a hard charisma check, you’re able to convince Danse to take the job himself. It is unknown how the main plot would have progressed beyond this point, as there is no other evidence of what being (or influencing) the Elder would have been like or what choices it would have given you.

There is understandable disappointment in learning that this ending was cut. Choices in games are great, and it could have been fun to have multiple different options for how to resolve the quest. In many gaming circles, people complain that this theoretical ending is superior to the one we got and shouldn’t have been axed. The Kotaku article calls it a “way better” ending, and you’ll see many players lamenting that it wasn’t implemented, saying Bethesda was bad at writing for cutting it, etc.

So why did Bethesda get rid of the Elder ending of BB?

In December 2020, after the Fallout 4 Cast Reunion, Danse’s voice actor Peter Jessop answered questions in a private signing session on his Instagram. Peter Jessop is an extremely kind and gracious man, an avid gamer, and a huge fan of Fallout. During the stream, he reflected on the alternate ending and remembered recording the lines, but stated the content was ultimately cut because Bethesda decided it was lore-breaking.

Peter Jessop is right. Bethesda was right. The Elder ending of BB is a bunch of dumb nonsense. It sucks, I hate it, and I’m glad they got rid of it. And now I’m going to tell you why!

See the full post

237 notes • Posted 2021-04-14 23:11:49 GMT

#1

Gen-3 Synths: What Canon Does and Does Not Actually Say

Synths! One of the most important concepts in Fallout 4, much of the game’s plot and thematic structure revolves around the Institute’s humanoid androids. The question of whether or not to regard synths as people is hugely important (and if you’ve been anywhere near my blog before, you’ll know I come down solidly on the “yes, duh” side of things.)

But that’s not why we’re here today!

There is a LOT of misunderstanding floating around about gen-3 synths. Many players miss basic facts about what synths are, what they can and cannot do, how they function and how they are made. Because this is such a massive game with so many perspectives and factions to explore (all with their own opinions,) it can be difficult to discern what’s true.

So the purpose of this post is to outline exactly what canon says about gen-3 synths-- the concrete facts as stated in the lore. Along with that, I’ll touch on a few concepts that canon doesn’t actually specify, open for interpretation however you see fit.

Massive Fallout 4 spoilers ahead, obviously.

Sidenote: Gen-1 and Gen-2 Synths

Essentially, gen-1 and gen-2 synths are fancy robots. Fully mechanical, programmed to follow a set of orders, built to perform menial tasks for the Institute. The difference is the “skin” that covers gen-2s, where the gen-1s are just naked robotic frames and inner parts. There are a few gen-1s still kicking around the Institute and scattered throughout groups of synth enemies, but the majority of old synths you’ll see and fight in the game are gen-2s.

And so is our buddy Nick Valentine. As Nick tells us, he is a gen-2 synth in all but mind-- a special prototype to test if synths could operate with a personality. Nick received the brainscans of the human Nick Valentine to form his basic personality, while his “brother” DiMA was allowed to form a personality from scratch. Nick and DiMA both have free will, human-level intelligence, and are no longer bound to programming. All other old synths are still operating on their original programming, mindless robots that attack all enemies of the Institute indiscriminately.

Nick tells us a lot about his function and his experience as a gen-2 synth, such as the fact that he doesn’t eat, drink, or sleep. He mentions being immune to radiation and able to easily repair himself, advantages that come from existing in a fully mechanical body.

But I think a lot of misinformation about synths comes from people equating what Nick says about himself to ALL synths. In canon, gen-3 synths are different from gen-2s in every way but name. The ONLY thing gen-2s and 3s have in common structurally is the synth component, the hardware that allows the Institute to access their brains. You cannot take Nick’s mechanical advantages and apply them to a being who is made of flesh and blood, because it doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

So keep our dear Mr. Valentine’s mechanical nature in mind whenever he says something about synths, and recognize the difference between him and the more modern gen-3s. And with that, we shall continue!

See the full post

374 notes • Posted 2021-05-12 00:09:42 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [22]

Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 22.5 OR Chapter 23 [Finale]

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

There’s quite a few things that you hate.   You like to say you’re a somewhat well-mannered individual who wouldn’t use such a strong word, such as hate, to describe objects, people, and things in general. But there’s a number of things that just absolutely grind your gears. One of such examples are small spoons used to eat ice-cream or crème brûlée where you can never get a satisfying mouthful. And another is—   “Fuck this yeast. Seriously.”   “Hey, what did yeast ever do to you?” Jungkook laughs, finding your rage all the more amusing.   “It won’t foam up.” You tap the measuring cup with a long sigh. Sure, the mixture is bubbling, but it’s nowhere near as good as you want it to be. “It’s been five minutes too.”   “Did you put in sugar to feed it?”   You scoff. “Who do you take me for?”   You hate making bread, hate making laminated dough, hate anything that has to yeast. It’s just horrible to work with and you don’t understand how anyone can like bread in the first place. No one can eat bread on its own. It’s bland as hell. It’s boring.   But aside from your personal vendetta, it just didn’t make sense — you and Jungkook have the same dry active yeast but when he proofs it, it’s perfect. You wonder if these tiny organisms hate you.   “I hate yeast and bread and everything to do with it.”   “Quit whining.” While Jungkook brushes past you, he taps your bottom. “Less complaining, more working.”   “Easy for you to say.”   Jungkook continues the recipe. He whisks together three tablespoons sugar, a tablespoon of salt, and three cups flour. In the meanwhile, you stand there, tapping your glass and wondering if you have to re-do the entire process.   But then another thought comes into mind.    And you slyly switch yours with Jungkook’s.   “Whatever, we’ll see what happens.” You clear your throat, discreetly shifting past him to grab the salt.   “Who knows, it might end up fermenting properly,” he says and a noncommittal sound is made at the back of your throat.    Quickly, you make your dry mixture and pour the yeast in with some oil. It forms into a soft dough, bouncy to the touch, and just the right texture. At the same time, Jungkook returns to grab the yeast and immediately frowns.   “What the fuck is wrong with my yeast.”   He brings it up to eye level, frowning. You shrug. “Yeast is finicky. Was your water too hot when you poured it in? Might’ve killed it.”   “But it was fine befor—” Jungkook’s voice halts. His eyes dim. He redirects his gaze towards you and deadpans, “You switched it, didn’t you?”   “What?” You laugh. “No, I didn’t.”   It’s frightening how he figured it out in an instant. You ponder just how much Jungkook can see right through you. “You took it, didn’t you?!” Your boyfriend playfully throws his arm around your neck and pins you under his armpit in a choke hold. You giggle, grabbing onto his forearm.   “I didn’t!” “You’re still trying to lie to me now, brat? I expected better from you!” He laughs and you squeal.   “Jungkook!”   Finally, he lets go of you, but not before huffing out in frustration. You’re unable to recover when he ruffles your hair roughly, disheveling your entire head and sighing again. “Now I have to re-do mine.”   You pout, watching him grab the container of dry active yeast. “I have to make sure my bread rises.”   He smiles softly. “So now you admit stealing from me?”    You dust off the flour from your hands and approach slowly. When the opportunity is right, you grab Jungkook’s arm and loll your head to one side, fluttering your lashes. “You wouldn’t be upset with your wonderful girlfriend, right, Kookie?”   “Don’t try to act cute with me.”   You lean against him. “I’m not. I just love you.”   Jungkook scoffs, but a tiny smile still lifts on his features. The corner of his mouth is timidly quirked and you know you’ve won.   The dough is kneaded until it’s elastic. Then the bowl is covered with a damp cloth and put in a warm place where it rises for an hour and a half. Afterwards, you punch the dough down on a lightly floured counter, shape it, and bake it in greased loaf pans.   For hating everything yeast, you must admit that the smell of fresh bread filling the kitchen is mouthwatering.   “It rose!” You peek through the oven in its last minutes, observing the way the crust is turning golden brown. “It looks so good.”   Jungkook looks over your shoulder. “Not bad. We’re going to have to do it again though. Or at least you do.”   “What?” The oven closes and you whirl around. “Why?”   “You can’t use my yeast during our exams.” Your boyfriend’s expression is impassive and you open your mouth to retort, but end up closing it. There’s no way you can argue against that.   “Ugh!” Your feet stamp childishly. “But I hate it!”   He smirks and brushes past you. “Should’ve done it right in the first place.”   “Shut up, Jeon.”   The scent of bread baking in the oven only serves to mock you now.   Jungkook tears his teeth into his bread, having lightly buttered it before eating. It’s still steaming hot and looks soft inside. You’re jealous, but also thankful when he stays around and watches you try a second batch all on your own without stealing any of his yeast.   “Too much salt or sugar could slow down the yeast,” Jungkook says. “If the water is too hot, you’ll kill it. If it’s too cold, it won’t activate.”   You sigh. “Why is it so difficult?”   “It isn’t. Just keep trying. The best upcoming pâtisserie chef isn’t going to give up on something as simple as bread, right?” Your boyfriend smiles when he sees you can’t even feign a pout, that your mouth twitches at the compliment.   Motivation flares through you. “That’s right.”   You check water twice, ensuring that it’s the perfect amount of warmness and after you add the godforsaken yeast, you measure out sugar carefully. There’s little agitation before you set up a stool to watch it move.    You pray these microbes will do your efforts justice, that they’ll release their carbon dioxide and ethanol, that they’ll bubble and ferment and make your dough rise later on.   “Are you going to sit there and watch it?”   “Shush,” you hiss at Jungkook as if the yeast could be scared to death.   He smiles, plops a kiss at the top of your head and walks away to clean up his pans and bowls. In the meantime, you wait for five minutes, and then another two just to make sure. By then, it’s bubbling.   “Is this good?” You bring it to Jungkook, not sure anymore.   He peers inside the bowl. “Looks okay to me.”   “Then I did it!” You throw yourself at him for a big hug and the yeast mixture nearly sloshes above the rim of the bowl onto the ground. “We can go now, right?”   Jungkook snorts. “You still need to make the bread, sweetheart.”   You pout. It’s such a pain. But it’s worth it when dough rises, the bread bakes perfectly in the oven, and Jungkook claps for you. When all is said and done, you feel lucky that Jungkook’s here for you, a personal cheerleader of sorts, always rooting you on.   You didn’t know bread could taste so sweet.

“Jungkook.”   “Hmm?”   He’s nodding off, head rested in his palm, elbow on the counter, slumped on the stool. He’s trying hard to keep his eyes open, but he’s been dozing, hair flopping around as he tries to keep himself awake. It’s painful to watch him.   “Go to bed.”   “’t’s okay.” Jungkook straightens his spine and stretches above his head with a yawn. “I’ll wait for you.”   “I’m not going to be done my cakes for a while. Just go back and sleep. Aren’t you tired?”   “Only a little.” He slides off his stool anyway, oddly obedient when he can’t be bothered to put up a fight.   Still, Jungkook comes over and you instantly know what he wants. He leans down, propping his chin on your shoulder, and you hug him as he folds over you. His body is nearly covering your entire frame like a blanket, but it’s warm and comfortable. “I wanted to wait for you,” he mumbles sleepily into your shoulder.   “You’ll see me tomorrow, you big baby.”   He makes a disgruntled noise, eyes shut, squeezing you before letting go.   You smile at him. “Here.” And you help Jungkook undo his white apron. He turns around so you can undo the strings and once it’s free from his body, you haphazardly toss the apron on the counter.   You press your hands against his cheeks so his mouth puckers and you place a brief kiss to his lips. “Okay, now go back and sleep.”   “Okay.” Jungkook relents and retreats away, barely dragging his legs along. A soft smile finds its way on your face, but right when the door of the kitchen closes, your nose scrunches.   There’s a smokey smell in the air.   Immediately, you whirl around to where you’re working and a gasp rips from your lungs.   Jungkook’s apron that you tossed, the one he once told you was precious and lucky to him, is caught on fire. The cloth is curling right on the stove, burnt off, red flames engulfing it.   After a delayed second, you finally lurch forward and grab the edge of it to dump it in the sink. The smoke rises as you turn on the tap and you watch, completely stunned and speechless.   “Shit. Shit!”   //   You’re at a loss of what to do.   You’ve stuffed the dirty thing in your bag, went home and tried to recover it. But the white apron has a huge gaping hole right at the center and there’s nothing to be undone. You tried to read the tag too, to find the brand, to find where it was manufactured, but it’s been worn and faded.   So you consult help. “Jimin, do you know where Jungkook’s apron is from? The one he usually wears.”   “No idea,” the boy says and you’re flooded with complete disappointment. “Didn’t his grandpa give him that thing before he passed away? I think it’s why Jungkook started baking in the first place.”   Blood drains from your face. You feel worse than you did before.   Jimin notices the way your expression crumples, how you’re on the verge of tears and his eyes widen. “Are you okay?! What’s wrong?”   “Don’t tell Jungkook….but...I…..I accidentally burnt his apron.”   There’s a quiet pause. “Oh shit.”   “What do I do, Jimin?” Guilt and remorse eats you whole, chewing and spitting you out to leave you nude and mortified. “I just took it off of him and threw it on the counter. I didn’t know it would land by the stove!”   “You can’t read the tag?” When you shake your head, the boy sighs and his voice softens in sympathy you don’t want. “I’m sure Jungkook won’t be upset with you, Y/N. It was an accident.”   But you can’t come clean with him.   You can’t bear seeing Jungkook’s disappointed face. The inevitable expression that’ll arrive if you tell him you destroyed a precious belonging. If you tell him you ruined his late grandpa’s last gift. If you tell him you wrecked what started him on this journey.   “I can’t say I’ve ever seen something like this before.” Aeri holds it up, studying the pathetic piece of cloth in the light and ignoring the giant hole in the center. She’s the next person you turn to and perhaps your last one.   Yoongi would just laugh in your face and call you an idiot. Taehyung can’t keep a secret for his life. And Hoseok has more than enough on his plate than to deal with your antics. Jimin and Aeri are the ones who are understanding and kind enough to actually help you in your dumb crisis.    “Have you tried searching online?”   “I found one similar on amazon but it’s not the same. The pockets are placed differently. He’ll know.”   “Doesn’t Jungkook have the standard one from school?”   “It’s...not the same.” You exhale in defeat and fall back onto her bed. You cover your face with your hands to shield away the sunlight that comes through the windows. The nice, autumn weather felt like it was mocking you. “What should I do? What if Jungkook breaks up with me over it? I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”   The girl laughs. “He wouldn’t. Jungkook’s not that kind of person. I’m sure if you just told him, everything will be okay, Y/N.”   That’s what everyone reassures, and in the back of your mind, you know he can’t be upset with you for that long. But Jungkook trusted you with a personal belonging of his — something so special and you burnt it to a crisp.   You feel guilty. There’s no amount of apologies that can bring the apron back to how it was. You’ve ruined it like how you ruin everything else in your life.   //   “Hey, have you seen my apron?”   Jungkook’s digging into his belongings a few days later, having searched his locker and is now looking into his drawers and into his closet. You swallow hard, knowing that this was imminent.    “N-nope.”   “Weird. I swear I had it here….”   You glance at your backpack. There’s a new apron that you bought, had it shipped to you in a day’s time. You picked the nicest gift bag to put it in too, but you haven’t had the courage to confront him about it.   You wonder what Jungkook would do if he decided to end the relationship over this. Maybe he’ll cite that he’s done with your shit, that you’re irresponsible and too clingy. That you’re too emotional, how he can’t trust you with anything, and perhaps he'll say he needs space.   You’ll survive — you know that much. You’ve been through enough in your life to know you’ll make it out, but surviving is not the same thing as living.    Jungkook’s become such a big part of your life — your boyfriend, partner in crime, best friend — you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready to be without him.    You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone else before.   “What’s the matter?” Jungkook’s suddenly squeezing your face together, the cheesiest grin painted across his own visage. “I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. Are you thinking about someone else when you’re with your boyfriend?”   You blink at him, eyes becoming glossy. Jungkook’s confusion takes over when you don’t make any snarky comebacks, when he realizes you’re not in the mood to joke around.   He slowly lowers his grip and sits down on the edge of his bead, concern taking hold. “Is everything okay?”   Your breath staggers out from your mouth. “Don’t be mad.”   His brows furrow deep. “What’s wrong?”   You open your mouth, but realize that you can’t say it. So you lean down and grab the gift bag from your backpack. You hand it to him and he takes it in his bewilderment, peeking inside.   You tear your eyes away. You can’t bear to see his face. “I’m sorry. Really. I am, Jungkook. The….the other day when I took off your apron, I threw it on the counter without looking and it caught on fire. I was trying to look for another one, but I don’t know where it’s from and I know it’s special to you, and I’m so sorry.”   There’s silence.    Then the noise of his chuckling.   You lift your head and you’re instantaneously engulfed into Jungkook’s arms, hugged by him. “I love it, thank you.”   You’re stunned — and it takes a moment for you to snap back to reality. “You’re not mad at me?”   “No.” Jungkook scoffs lightly and pulls away with a grin. “I was wondering why you’ve been so quiet the entire day. I was more worried than anything. You didn’t get burnt, did you?”   “No.”   “Good. Then that’s all that matters.”   He’s humming happily, unfolding the new apron and pushing out the folded wrinkles. Then Jungkook stands up while holding it out on his body, checking how it looks in the mirror.   You can’t comprehend how he can be so forgiving. “Wasn’t the other one from your grandpa? You started baking because of him, right?”   “Kind of. He cooked a lot and told me I should find something I love to do and make it my job. It was a bit of a whim.” The boy turns around, doe eyes twinkling. “But that old man gave me a whole box of stuff, not just the apron. And honestly, it was kind of getting old and worn, so I’m glad I have a new one now — plus it’s from my amazing girlfriend, so how can I not love it?”   It takes three seconds.   Three seconds and then you burst out crying. You’re not sure exactly why and it causes Jungkook to be alarmed. He tries to comfort you, but he’s obviously uncomfortable as he pats your back and caresses your hair awkwardly. It’s only when you’ve calmed down a bit where he wipes your cheeks with his thumbs and asks if it was something he said.   When you tell him you’re not quite sure, the next question he asks is if you’re on your period — and you almost slap him.   The pair of you don’t talk about your meltdown again, but in the middle of the night while you’re still awake, you’re finally able to pinpoint your emotion.   It wasn’t that you were afraid of Jungkook being angry or breaking up with you — you were afraid of disappointing him, of breaking his heart, of hurting him.    You know anyone else in your life would’ve been let down. But not Jungkook. And for that, you feel relieved, reassured, comforted. You feel fortunate that he loves you, and most of all, you realize just how much you cherish the boy named Jeon Jungkook.

In the middle of your bread and viennoiserie class, while your floured hands are folding laminated dough, Taehyung looks up from the counter with a sudden question.   “What kind of wedding cake do you guys want?”   “The hell did that come from,” Yoongi grunts beside him, his beloved silence now broken.   “Well I was just thinking salami and prosciutto would be so delicious with bread, because I love myself some deli meats and there’s this super cute girl at the deli I go to, but I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend. Anyway, I started to remember the cakes they had on display at the bakery section and there was a funfetti one with a cartoon rabbit on it that looked a lot like Jungkook.”   “What?”   Taehyung keeps rambling, literally thinking out loud, “Then I realized he and Y/N are probably gonna get married someday, and I wondered if I was going to be a groomsman at the wedding and what kind of cake they were going to have, so yeah. What kind of cake do you guys want?”   Yoongi's expression is disconcerting as if he’s wondering how Taehyung lives peacefully with a brain like his. “Do you ever get tired being yourself?”   “Hey, you asked.” The tall brunette is unbothered by the insult and turns to the two of you for an answer. “What kind of wedding cake are you guys going to have?”   Your mind is reeling.   Getting married to Jungkook seems so far away from now. The pair of you are barely in your twenties, and you’re not particularly inclined to get hitched so young. But in terms of cake — your own specialty — you’ve had one in mind since the beginning of time.   “Well obviously, we’re going to have chocolate.” — “Fresh strawberries and cream.”   You and Jungkook both answer at the same time over top each other.   Your heads turn, eyes meeting, stares connected.   “Of course we’re going to have chocolate.”   “Aren’t you sick of it? I make chocolate for you all the time,” Jungkook argues. “And you eat some every other day.”   “I could never get sick of chocolate.” You frown. “Since when did you like fresh strawberries and cream?”   “Always.” He shrugs. “And when we worked at Kim's cakes, that flavour always tasted the best to me. It’s fresh, but still sweet. I think everyone would like it. It’s versatile.”   “Yeah, but what matters is that we like it.”   “I like it.”   “Yeah, but I think chocolate is just more fitting for us.”   Yoongi sighs, looking over at Taehyung. “Here they go again.”   “What?” You direct your attention to the sleepy man, a sharp bite to your words. “What do you mean ‘here we go again’?”   Taehyung’s eyes widen and he begins to slide away from the counter, not wanting to be in the face of your wrath. Yoongi, on the other hand, has never been intimidated by you in the least bit. “The both of you are always fighting.”   You glance at your boyfriend. “No, we’re not.”   “First it was about cookie dough and then pineapple on pizza, soufflés and now this.” Yoongi spits straight up facts without sugar coating it and you’re left stumped. You didn’t realize how it looked to outsiders. You know there’s never animosity between you and Jungkook — it’s just debates, but you suppose the arguments happen frequently.   You stare at Jungkook and he smiles tenderly at you.   The man turns back towards his friends.   “I like getting Y/N riled up. Isn’t it fun to watch her?”   “Excuse me?” you scoff, not expecting that kind of response.   “Ugh.” But Taehyung takes his words in a completely different meaning and his face scrunches. “So this is a kink you guys get off on? Making other people suffer by listening to your bickering?”   Jungkook doesn’t say anything and merely wiggles his brows. It makes your face hot and Yoongi appears disgusted as well next to his baking partner.   Your boyfriend looks off at you. “How about chocolate strawberry cake then? We can have chocolate cake layers and alternate between cream and ganache in between. We can frost it in strawberry buttercream with strawberry roses as decoration — and of course, a pile of chocolate strawberries as the topper.”   You grin at him, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. “Brilliant. As usual.”   “Ugh.” Taehyung groans even louder. “Nevermind. Go back to hating each other. I can’t handle you two being sappy and gross.”   “Well get used to it,” you tell him proudly while Jungkook drapes an arm over your shoulder, approving your message.   It’s only when the teacher brushes past all four of you and reminds all of you to continue kneading your dough do you remember that you’re in class with everyone eavesdropping in.   But you don’t mind shamelessly flaunting your relationship with Jungkook — you’re proud of him and of loving him.   //   It’s later that night when you’re snuggling while watching some show playing on his laptop, that you verbalize some doubts that Taehyung’s snuck into your mind. “Do you think we argue too much?”   “What?” Jungkook turns his head. “Not really. I like arguing with you — well, not in any way that makes any of us upset or anything, but I like our heated debates. Why? Don’t you?”   “I do,” you hum. “I was worried you didn’t. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m always picking fights with you.”   He laughs and the sound is melodic to your ears. Jungkook’s grip on you tightens, making sure he’s holding you close. “You are. But I don’t mind. We don’t need to agree on everything to be together.”   You lean into his warmth and a content sigh escapes your lips.    Of all the things that you disagree with Jungkook on, you think he would agree that the both of you cherish being with one another. Future wedding or not, you want to savour every moment and all the antics you have together. That’s all that really matters.

[twstwonderlandstuff]

Sleep depravity

You feel like shit.

Flashback

Ahaha, the new year! A time for fun and festivities! Surely, that’s what YOU’RE going to be doing, right?

Wrong.

Well, I mean right, but it’s not fun by what most of NRC calls as. So imagine this, right, you’re sitting in yo damn class doing your damn shit when suddenly, your classmate whispers to you from behind.

“Hey.” You nudge an elbow, to show that you’re listening. 

“You should watch ‘Tales of the Seven Lords’. It’s a really good series.” You nod in thanks at the recommendation and your classmate retreats back to his seat. 

And the day goes on as usual: Running around campus doing your part-time jobs, occasionally talking to your friends and seniors, feeding Grim, appreciating how fine everybody looks today- pardon me.

So now, it’s bedtime and you’re there listening to Grim talk as you do your homework. Then, he says: “Oh yeah, someone said something about a recommendation, right?”

“Right, I forgot about that.” You nod, finishing your homework in time. “We should check that out to watch for New Years. It’s in a few days.” You sigh, bouncing your leg. 

See, unlike from where you’re from, NRC has a different curriculum, where the OFFICIAL tests come out somewhere in the 3rd and 9th month of the year, not the 6th and the 12th, so this is just cooldown time for you to kind of chill and relax. 

“Right, holidays~~~ We don’t need to listen to Vargas anymore!” Grim hums cheerfully, and you nod. He’s already loud and super annoying every time he meets a slightly muscular kid, but add THAT with him rambling about safety protocols? Nah, man, ya can’t.

"Ah yes, the holidays where everyone goes home and leaves us here to wail and stay all alone with nobody- I mean I got you but you know- nobody and probably have to clean the school.” You take a deep breath. “Lovely.”

"That annoying guy is going to do something like that...” Grim complains, rolling over to flop on your stomach. “I don’t wanna!”

“Same...” You reply lazily, fist bumping Grim’s paw. “Hahah... hah...”

Despite your complaining, you feel a little giddy. I mean, come on, you get the FUCK around the school, all day by yourselves! What’s not to love about that? And the series is sure to keep you entertained.

Flashback end.

‘That was a terrible, terrible thing to think about.’ You thought blearily, thoughts swirling around your head as Grim falls asleep on you, *heetos and dorr*tos all over your body, making you feel sticky and gross. 

It’s now the actual new years, where everybody’s gone home and like you predicted, Crowley did assign you to tasks- fucking bird, so you and Grim’s ass didn’t do what he told you. Fucking hell, the school’s been functioning DAMN well without you, surely the tasks not THAT big of a deal, right?

After goofing around for a few days, you’re getting bored, so you drag your lazy self to Sam’s store (where his friends from the other side are tending it for him) and rent out a DVD- Crowley didn’t gift you a phone, unfortunately (but still fixed that old TV set??? Man’s got some weird priorities)

You bring this news to Grim, who immediately begs and whines for you to open and watch the show. So you did.

The first episode, you were intrigued, but only a little bit. The same went for the 2nd and 3rd episode. You’re about to call it a lame series when you hit... the 4th episode.

It was a wild ride of emotions and wow... that scene where Henry helps the king really brought you and Grim to tears. 

You were hooked. Or in other words, you were fucked. Fucked because now, you can’t THINK of anything BUT the series, which forces you to stay at home and watch the entire god-damn thing and now its 2 days after that.

At... you blearily open your eyes and notice the cracks of light shining through the curtain. “Oh god...” At somewhere around 8 am in the morning.

“Fucking hell... I’ve gone and fucked up my sleep schedule... shit...” And for some reason, tears began running down your eyes. What the fuck? Are you THAT tired that’d you’d cry over your SLEEP SCHEDULE?

Yes. Yes, you are.

You hear a knock at the door. “Oh my fucking god.” You curse, rolling down the uneven wooden floors, wincing as you get splinters. You lethargically stand up  and open the door and look up to see...

HEARTSLABYUL

Someone 5 cm taller then you- oh screw off, you’re 145 cm, its okay to be pissed, you know?

“Happy new year, prefect-” You interrupt him.

“Oh.. you’re cute!” You grin gleefully, pinching the red hair’s cheeks.

“U-unhand me at once!” The guy with red hair shouted, forcibly taking your hands away. “Or its off with your head!”

"What, you’re gonna- you’re gonna tie me up~?” You tease, punching the guy’s shoulder. “That’s kinky dude... like tone down the horny ya know...”

2 guys with red-orange hair and other with blue starts laughing loudly in the background and you laugh too.

The guy with red hair STARTS turning red- oh my fucking god, people can turn red?

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” And a collar winds up around your neck.

“Eh????” You ask, lightly tugging at the collar. “What the fackin hell is this shit? Y’all really out here puttin’ collars and shit on people... in the middle of the day too... wow...”  You mutter, slipping into a country accent.

Flash! You hear a snap of a camera and turn to look at another person with a feather duster on his head- why does he have a feather duster- you know what, its cute, and you like it. You reach up and begin petting it, effectively blocking the phone he’s holding.

“Eto, prefect? You’re kinda- woah!” You look at him with a glazy eyes from those 2 days of non stop watching.

"Are you a...” You ponder, biting your lip as you blink repeatedly. “Are you... a fuck boy?”

(“CATER’S A FUCK- CATER’S F-FUCK- AHAHAHAHA-” Ace wheezes in the background as Deuce starts laughing harder, neither of them caring that they have collars on their first day back.)

Fuck boy has a bewildered look on his face, but before you could see his reaction, another hand goes to tug you back. You look up and... is that... is that lettuce, you see? No no way, it... it kinda looks like broccoli, though..

“Let’s get you to bed, prefect.” The broccoli tells you firmly, but like hell are you listening to a broccoli! Fuck man, you got higher standards then that, come on!

“No! I’m not listening to a broccoli!” You duck, effectively pulling out of his grasp and ran inside to wherever room you’re in and slam it shut. “YOU’RE NEVER GETTING ME, BROCCOLI MAN!!!”

(”Bro---brocoll-” This time, it’s Deuce’s time to collectively pound weakly at the dirt, one hand holding onto Ace’s shoulder as he looses it.)

Eventually, you slump on the ground and slowly... you don’t hear the brocolli’s voice anymore.. which is good (but like, why does his voice sound so... sexy??? Like, why??? It doesn’t make any... sense...)

---

Ace and Deuce finish from their laughing stock, having to hold on to the third years to get up from their position. “We’ll go check on the prefect.” Deuce tried to say, a snort or two making its way to the sentence.

“HAH- KINKY- KINKY FUCK BOY BROCCOLI--- AHAHAHAHAHA-” Ace was still loosing it as he walked inside, a tear streaking down his face. “I love the prefect so fucking much.”

Laughter bubbles up against Deuce’s throat as he walks in. “F...Fuck...boy...”

“W-where is the prefect, anyway?” They immediately see you, slumped against the hallway, snoozing away. With their strong powers, they gently lift and place you on the sofa, amidst all the gunk and shit that’s piled up.

“Ew, what were they even doing?” Ace cringes, looking at the mess. “It smells like shit.”

“They’re watching ‘Tales of the Seven Lords’- oh.” Deuce nods, in extreme understanding. He too, has pulled all-nighters with his gang to watch this series... oh how they cried like mad.

“Oh, that show... it’s bad. I don’t like it.”

“What?!” Deuce swiftly turns around. “But its really good!”

“No, it’s not, what? You got some poor taste, Juice.”

“It’s Deuce, not Juice! And you’re the one with poor taste!”

They bicker all the way, until they’re lovingly threatened by Riddle to NOT say a word, or its way more then off with your head, got it~?

SAVANACLAW

An extremely good-looking lion man- lion man, the fuck???- who lazily looks around at your dorm. Behind him is an EVEN better looking man, this one with a very fluffy tail and BEEG ears and BEEG body and my god, wow... he also sexy- like, sexier then lion man.

“Furry?” You mutter, your eyes falling onto another boy with animal-like ears and tail, except he’s shorter then the two, but his eyes seem to have more light in them.

“Happy New Year, prefect~!” He cheers on, his small tail wagging- oh that is cute oh my fuck- oh shit-

“...what the fuck? Why the fuck are there furries?” You gasp in alarm, running your hands through your hair in a frantic manner. “HAVE I MISSED A FUCKING GENERATION OF FURRIES?!”

“NONONONO NO NO NO THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY- NO-” You scream, falling onto the floor and grabbing a piece of your hair.

A shadow seems to loom over you, and you can feel something fluffy- or maybe that’s just you. “Prefect, are you okay- not like I’m worried, or anything, but...?” That line seems like something you’ve heard, but from where?

“Has the herbivore lost their mind?” Sexy lion man can be heard asking in the back, his voice quickly slipping into a yawn.

“Are ya worried, Leona?” The smaller guy teases, a ‘shi shi shi’ going past his lips.

“Tch.”

Well they seem like good friends- nice.

“I’m fine-” You look up and BAM WOAH WHAT IS THAT- SOMEONE’S PANTS AREA THING NOPE-

“I’M NOT FINE FUCKKKKKKK!” You scream back. The guy jumps back.

“Prefect, are you possessed?”

“By this stage? I might as well fucking be- HAH!” And you snort at that- it’s not even funny, you moron. “Oh, and also sexy lion man- yeah I’m talking to you, yeah you-” You point at said man. “I’m not a herbivore, okay? Like, I’m not a vegan (NO OFFENSE TO THE VEGANS OUT THERE), umm...” You slip into a dramatic accent where everything becomes more pronounced.

“I’m a fucking omnivore, and if you wanna like, insult me, please do it right. Thanks.” You pose, your hands making a heart shape, before slumping onto strong boy’s arms.

“Pfft- AHAHAHAH-” And Ruggie’s gone and lost his shit, because what’d you expect, right?

Leona looks surprised, before becoming very irritated, dragging Ruggie by the scruff/neck and walking away, leaving Jack to deal with you.

His seniors out of earshot and eyeshot, he glances at your sleeping form, which was nuzzling up to him, sighing in bliss as the warmth surrounds you.

He lets out a snicker despite his best efforts not too. Goodness, you surprise him every day.

He easily brings you inside with a princess carry, making sure to respectfully touch only your legs and you back to support you.

He glances at your sleeping form- what on earth were you doing that could keep you up so late, anyways? Oh, he finds out by passing through the living room, TV still on.

He finds your bedroom and lays you down there, not bothering to bring Grim inside- just kidding, he absolutely brings Grim in because he knows how much you love each other, but you didn’t hear that from me~

He glances at your form again and brushes some hair out of your face. The steady rise and fall of your chest eases him. Maybe he should stay here, just in case you wake up and act like THAT again and that’s something he’s sure a lot of people aren’t ready to witness.

He takes a chair and sits in front of you, once again having his eyes trained on you, seeing he has nowhere to look at.

A content smile passes your lips, and he smiles at that. What kind of dreams are you having, he wonders? (Little did he know its about him)

Wait.

If he’s waiting for you like this, isn’t that what you usually do for friends?! He stands up immediately, regretting his actions just as fast as he notices you squirm, sighing in relief as you settle back down onto your dazed state again.

“Happy New Year, prefect. Let’s make more memories together.” He mutters lowly, far too low for you to hear but somehow, you smile at just the right moment.

He leaves quickly, a red blush adorning his cheeks. No, that does NOT make him happy in the slightest! His tail isn’t wagging, his ears aren’t red, you’re lying!

Right?

Wrong.

Yeah, right.

Oh, god damn you and making him so confused!

OCTAVINELLE

An incredibly good-looking gent, with a smile on his face that doesn’t look as nice as it should. And look, he’s got a fedora! That speaks fancy~

“Happy New Year, pre-” You take the fedora and slap it onto your head, to the surprise and subsequent irritation of this man.

Or octopus. Honestly, they radiate the same vibe, so you wouldn’t know.

Then, you began doing the Orange Justice (cringe) as you hum- “Mhph, then you break it down! Down! Down! High! Down!”

“Is shrimpy-chan okay?” Oh what the fuck he’s so tall- THERE’S ANOTHER ONE YOU’RE SEEING THINGS-

“Oya oya.” HE HAS ARA-ARA ENERGY OH MY GOD YOU CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS- NONONONONO-

“Ara ara? Ara ara ara~ ara ARA!” You reply in kind, switching to a weird boogie as you sing offkey about a song.

“Under the sea~~~ under the sea~~ something, something, du do do do, under the sea~ under the grass, and till they fall~ ahhhh!!!” You grab the gent’s hands and drag him to you, paying very close attention to your feet as you attempt to tap dance.

The gent splutters indigation, so you leave him be and focus on your feet.

“Ne, that sounds fun!” The 1st double says, following you to dance- except he’s doing way better then you.

“Wha- how the fuck- that’s good! How the fackkkk... fuck... fucking... fucking fucking wop wop!” You giggle, trying to imitate his dance.

“Hehe, shrimpy’s funny when they’re tired!” Double 1 says, grabbing your waist as you shout in fright.

“Jade, maybe we should-”

“Let them be, Azul.”

Upon closer inspection, you realize that this ‘Jade’ has resonating vibes with Sebastian from Black Butler- wait, is this the twin cliche?! Where there’s the crazy one and the other’s the sane one?! But then again, he has that scary smile on his face... hmm, maybe that theory should be left alone.

You, still Double 1′s arms, shout: “Come on butler man! Join us!!!”

“Butler... are you referring to me?” He sounds surprised.

“Yeee! Come on dude,let’s vibeeee-” You stop mumbling and began singing again. “Oh oh, I’m a rebel just for kicks now! OWAH!!!”

“Owah~~” Double 1 joins, and Jade with a grin, joins in. “Owah~”

“...owah...” The gent also joins, albeit in a softer tone.

“What else, shrimp- eh??? They’re asleep!” Floyd pouts as he gazes at your non-moving body. “No fun.”

“Oya, maybe we should bring them back to their couch. It looks like a nice place to be.” Jade remarks, looking at the pile of chips and snacks on the floor. Floyd shruges, dropping you with a thud, but you don’t seem to wake up. Jade picks you up for Floyd and brings you to the couch.

Azul cringes at the sight of messy chips. “It’s giving me heartburn just looking at it.”

“Don’t lie, Azul. We saw you eating the same thing yesterday~” Floyd teases, a wide grin placate on his face.

“...I could’ve sworn nobody saw me! How...” Azul mumbles to himself, a red flush on his face.

“They’re asleep. We should leave them be.” Jade suggests, walking back to the group.

Azul nods. “There’s nothing I can make a deal about, anyway. And, the benevolent sea witch wouldn’t agree with that, wouldn’t she?”

"Yeah! Goodnight, shrimpy!” Still, you don’t reply, but Floyd looks happy enough since he hoists Azul up from his stand and walks out with him, princess style.

“F-floyd, put me down!”

“Nah, Jade looked really happy holding Shrimpy, so I’ll do the same to you~”

“Floyd!”

Jade walks behind them, watching as they have their fun.

Did I really look that happy? He glances back at your living room and gives a rare, sincere smile to the dimly lit room.

“Goodnight, prefect. I hope to get along with you better.” He whispers to himself, before closing the door gently behind and catching up to his brother.

SCARABIA

Sunshine??? in the form of a... homo sapient???? and a snake??? why the fuck-???

“Happy New Year, prefect! I brought you some food, a few blankets and oh!” The sunshine greets, giving you things, which you don’t have the strength to take, but nod as thanks anyways. He hands you a carpet, incredibly soft, 100% quality. “A carpet- eh, prefect?! Are you okay?!” The sunshine fusses, grabbing your cheeks in worry.

You melt, easing into the touch. “I’m okay now.” You lazily reply, giving him a slow wink. “Haha, get it? Cause- cause you’re here, and you’re the sun, and you’re cute, so like... haha? No?” You don’t let him reply as you sigh and nod, taking his hands of your cheeks. “Alright.”

The sunshine grins at your attempt. “I don’t really know what you mean, but thanks!” Oh my god he’s so cute-

“...hopefully, these things can dress up your broken- er, rustic house.” The snake replies, watching your behavior with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

You son of a bitch-

“Look, snake-man. No no no no, look at me. Watashi no eyes, you look at eyes- you see my eyes?” You stalk towards the snake, squinting at the bright sun (2 suns) as you trudge towards him. “Y-you see? Yeah, these eyes have tried their FUCKING best to fix up this dorm, so please, bro, please don’t like, mock it cuz like-- it’s really fucking hard- and you know why?!”

“Why?” The sunshine questions, just as you hope (but for some reason, the snake has backed away and is guarding the sunshine. You wonder why.)

“Lemme tell you why- lemme tell you why. So, this bird-man bitch boy I don’t fucking know, right-” The snake sort of laughs at this description as sunshine nods. “This guy, right, leaves ALL this SHIT to me- like BITCH, did you see the fucking state of this... I don’t know, um, SHACK?!” You point aggressively at the house. “Yeah man, it was SHIT! Like, there were holes, rats on the ground, and there were a insects everywhere...” Oho, snake seems to tense up at this, walking towards sunshine in a scared manner.

“The wood was rotting, it smelled like mold... the couches were moldy, the BED was moldy... it was... it was FUCKING shit mate, like the fuck?! You expect me to clean up that shit in what, like...” You bring up your fingers, not even counting. “Three fucking days? Like what the fucking hell, bitch? I’d like to- to- to know what the fuck crossed his mind, like the fuck, you know?”

“That seems hard, prefect. Do you want us to help?” The sunshine offers, but the snake interjects, saying: “Kalim (oh, so his name is Kalim, huh? Cute name for a cute guy!), how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t-”

“But it looks like they’re having a really hard time!” Kalim argues, pouting and looking at you pitifully, and you give the snake a woeful mourning face. The snake glares at you, before sighing heavily. Ah, damn, you feel kind of bad.

“Nah, it’s okay sunshine, I can handle it. Oh, by the way, have ya seen my baby?” You say nonchalantly, describing your feline friend.

“Baby?” The snake pales. “You have a baby?!”

“Prefect, why do you have a baby?” The sunshine panics too, eyes widening, forgetting the nickname you gave him.

“Yeah, I do! Wanna see-” Slump! You fall onto the ground before you can finish your sentence, leaning across the snake’s legs.

“Oh... they’re probably talking about Grim...” Jamil realizes, sighing in relief at the thought.

“Oh yeah, that’s probably it! Hehe, we think alike, Jamil!” Kalim grins, much to the chagrin of Jamil.

“Yeah, yeah, we do. Now come on-” Jamil lifts up your body, princess style and grunts. “Help me open the door.”

“Sure thing!” Kalim hums, opening the door. “What do you think they were doing, looking so tired?”

Jamil shrugs, walking inside ASAP, first giving the dorm a quick sweep with his eyes- he isn’t quite sure how to feel about the bugs you said. They pass by the living room and upon seeing the disarray, nod in understanding.

“Kalim, can you clean it while I put the prefect back in their room?” Kalim nods and gets to work, rolling up his sleeves.

Jamil smiles, nodding as he walks towards your bedroom, opening it with his foot. Surprisingly, it looks WAY cleaner then your living room- you really did stay up all night to watch whatever show was on, huh? The bed isn’t even creased.

Jamil sets you down gently, and you immediately roll to the side, sighing in comfort. He watches as the crumbs of snacks fall onto the bed, and thanks the graces that its not Kalim’s, or his bed that got the food spilled, phew.

Speaking of Kalim, how is he faring? Jamil walks back to the living room, fully expecting to see Kalim get distracted, but much to his ACTUAL surprise, the room is a quarter cleaned. The crisps are thrown in the trash bin and the blankets are folded up, albeit not neatly.

Jamil smiles, a little bit proud of Kalim. “Kalim?”

“Here. Shh, not so loud. Grim’s sleeping.” Kalim whispers back, waving from the kitchen. “I’m trying to clean the dishes, but...”

“Here, let me teach you.” And so, they two do their best to help clean the living room until it’s up to Jamil’s standard.

“I bet they’ll feel surprised when they wake up!” Kalim giggles, happy that it’s clean.

“I hope so, it’ll be a waste if we did all this and they didn’t notice.” Jamil frowns, crossing his arms, satisfied. “I’m sure they liked the gifts, Kalim?”

“Really?! I didn’t go overboard, right?!” Kalim worries, looking at Jamil in concern.

“You always do.” Was Jamil’s snide remark.

“Jamil!” Kalim pouts, and Jamil nods.

“It’s true.”

“Aww... I thought I really... aww...” Kalim shakes his head, cheering up immediately. “There’s always next time! Let’s visit Heartslabyul next, Jamil!”

“Let’s go.” And Kalim rushes out, shouting a ‘Happy New Year!’ to the dorm, despite his previous warning. Jamil says nothing, echoing his behavior as they walk out.

(And it’s true. After 14 hours or so, you wake up, walked towards the living room, and cried the SHIT out of your eyes. It really was nice to see, you know?)

DIASOMNIA

 You can’t distinguish who the fuck this person is, but they’re definitely tall. 

“Who the fucking hell??? Is so fucking tall?” You ask in a whisper. “Hello?”

“Don’t talk to Malleus-sama that way, human!” A guy that looks similar to a cucumber yells. 

“Shut up, my guy. Oh shit, sorry I probably sound really fucking rude hah.” You snort, pinching the nose of your bridge. “Um, what can I do for you? Or something?”

“You look pale.” A softer voice comments. You turn to look at him and oh fucking HELL he looks so... soft??? Princely???

“Woah.” You breathe, grabbing his face. He quickly pushes you off, but you don’t mind. “What the fuck... Your face??? Is?? Nice???” 

“Thank... you...?” He says strangely, stepping away. “Da- LIlia-sama, I think we should leave. ___ doesn’t seem to feel well.”

“Nonsense, ___’s fine. It’s probably just lack of sleep.” You let out a bark at that. 

“Hah, lack of sleep. More like lack of heat!” You giggle at that- why did you giggle at that it literally makes no sense. You turn to look at this ‘Lilia’ person and holy shit, is that a d i l f ?

“...Dilf?” You mutter, stetching out your hand to touch this short emo man. “Emo???”

“What is a dlif?” Emo man’s face contorts into confusion, one that is not often seen in his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that phrase...”

“Dad’s I’d Like to Fuck, because damn bro, you look- you look like you raised hot kids and set them on a frying pan do you get me, cuz like you’re also sexy? I don’t... yeah.” You nod  heavily at your sentence. 

Emo man and prince-looking guy’s face contorts into a grin and a horrified look respectively. Tall man seems to have the same face as prince-looking guy, while Cucumber just... freezes. 

“Are y’all okay??? You know what, I don’t- I don’t have- I’m not- I’m- I’VE GOT THE APPLE BOTTOM JEANS, BOOTS- BUTTS- BUTTS WITH THE FURRR, THE WHOLE CLUB WAS LOOKING AT HER~” You break out into a song, changing your voice to a country accent. 

“SHE TOOK THE FLOOR AND GOT THE JEANS AND WENT LOW LOW LOW low low low low...” You sync in with the music, going lower to the beat until you lay your body on the ground and slowly lose sight (or blurry shapes) in front of you.

You don’t know what happens next, but you do know that someone’s riding a small cow. With big horns. And hair? With the bit of consciousness you have left, you reach up to touch the cow horns. 

“Sick...” You mutter, and your hands fall slack on the small cow’s horns and you finally fall into well-deserved sleep.

EXTRA

“Lilia.”

"SEE SILVER, I TOLD YOU THAT PEOPLE WOULD-”

“I DON’T NEED TO HEAR IT, DAD!”

“NONE OF US DO!”

“Lilia.”

“I- I’M A DILF- I- I’M A DILF- HAH, I’M- OW OW OW... ow.. my back... oh, yes... Malleus?”

“I’m bringing the human inside.”

“Sure..- argh, ow ow ow... Silver, Sebek, come help me!”

“Yes, old man...”

“...”

“Pfft... a dilf... a dilf....” Malleus snickers at your naming choices, lighting up candles that you’ve strategically set. Once the lights are on, he can’t help but squint at the messiness of your dorm. He walks past the living room and opens your simple bedroom door, placing you on your bed. You don’t seem to be unbetrubed, but you squeezing something in the air. Ah, perhaps you’re looking for the cat? 

Poof! Grim instantly nuzzles into you, and you both sign at the warm heat between you. Malleus smiles at the sight and leans closer to you, and whispers: “Happy New Year, child of man. Let’s make more memories together.” He gazes at your simple room, and his eyes falls at your bedside table. He smiles fondly at the picture on your bedside table. It’s you, Grim and him in Ramshackle’s living room, you making flower crown as you bitch on about physics, Grim agreeing and complaining as well. 

He gives you a small pet on the head and disappears in neon butterflies. 

“Shall we go?”

“Oh, young whisperer, you’re back. I take it ___ is back in their bedroom?”

A smile blooms on Malleus’ face. “Yes, now let’s go.”

“Dilf.. dilf...”

“I can’t... dilf... I can’t.. no...”

*

I don’t fucking know what this is

I just thought--- lilia... is a dad.... and he sexy

and memes... and i created this fic

please enjoy it

[uwuwriting]

The writings on his skin Shinsou Soulmate au

Soulmate au with communication via writing on their skin.

Oh god this is bad, I’m not happy with it at all. My original draft got deleted and I had to rewrite this at 2 am and I’m dead. I didn’t proof read it because I swear I’m gonna pass out so I’m so terribly sorry for butchering this. I love Hitoshi to the moon and back I hope he has the most wonderful birthday I LOVE HIM. Hope this doesn’t suck that much. Love ya. 💖💖💖💖💖

Rules 

warnings: mentions of bullying, some angst, fluff

When Hitoshi was young he used to believe in soulmates. He couldn’t wait to meet the person that would fit him like a puzzle piece. In the early age of five, Shinsou Hitoshi was filled with positivity and hope. Hope that in the future he would get to enjoy all the things he liked with someone special. 

He was so excited for the first day of school. some of the kids from his neighborhood would be in his class; they didn’t like him they were really afraid of his quirk and would make fun of him all the time, but he didn’t care. He would make new friends and just ignore them. Stepping into the classroom he was met with about 18 new faces. 18 possible friends. A smile spread across his face as he made eye contact with one of the kids. The boy was playing with some LEGOs as Hitoshi made his way to him. 

“Hi I’m Shin-”

“AHH IT’S THE MONSTER!!!” the boy cried out as he stumbled backwards putting a respectful distance between them. The whole class turned to look at them and one by one all the kids slowly took a step back. They were all afraid of him. They all wanted nothing to do with him. They-they.

“He’s a villain!!!”

“Someone call All Might!!!!” 

More children joined the mocking and the cries for help. A group of boys, two of which he knew, walked up to him growls leaving their mouths as -even though Hitoshi was a tall child- they towered over him. Pushing him to the ground, one of them snatched his backpack emptying the contents on him before throwing it at a corner of the room. 

“Villains are not allowed here! Jihiko-sensei will kick you out, villain!” Right on cue, Jihiko-sensei stepped into the room, her eyes landing immediately at his wide eyed face and trembling form. 

“Boys that’s rude!” grabbing his backpack she started putting back his scattered supplies.“Apologise to Shinsou right now!”

Reluctantly the four boys bowed their heads, mumbling an apology before rising their noses up in the air and walking away, leaving a terrified Hitoshi on the floor. 

During the first day of school he knew that he wouldn’t be getting new friends and with that his doubts of even having a soulmate bloomed to life. 

Middle school was not as bad as elementary. He had gotten used to the teasing and the name calling. He couldn’t say that it didn’t bother him; it really did but he had learned not to show it. Even now, years after that fateful first day in kindergarten, he had no friends. All of them pushed him away, some more politely than others, leaving the word ‘villain’ lumming over their heads as they turned him down. He was fine though. No soulmate mark had appeared but at this point he couldn’t really be disappointed. After all, someone like him -a monster, a villain- didn’t deserve to have a soulmate.

It was a normal day in his boring middle school. So boring that Hitoshi had turned to doodling on his arm. It was not a habit, he hadn’t done it before since he saw the doodles as tattoos and he didn’t want to give others more reasons to call him evil. Plus he liked his arms clean. But he was bored and it was hot and he wasn’t functioning correctly. At some point during his history class, he fell asleep. He woke up to a light tickling sensation running up his arm and a dim shine appeared on a spot near his wrist. 

‘You can’t draw….’ 

He blinked once, twice expecting the words to disappear but they didn’t. They didn’t fade, they were real. Bold black letters stared back at him as he marveled at the sight. He … he had a soulmate and he could actually speak to them. Snapping out of his trance he scrambled for a pen and thought of a response. He didn’t wanna seem desperate. Deciding on sarcasm he wrote beside their own message. 

‘Well excuse me Picasso’

 He waited for a response for what felt like centuries. This was amazing, incredible, astonishing all of those long pretty words writers use to describe their female characters in poems. Would they want to meet him? Did they live nearby? Were they the same age? So many questions swirled inside his head he almost missed the mandala pattern that appeared on his wrist. The design became more vibrant and visible as the minutes ticked by. It was beautiful. 

‘What’s your favorite color?’

‘Purple….why?’

‘Be patient sweet soulmate of mine, you’ll see.’ 

His heart skipped a beat. Oh lord he hadn’t even met them yet and he was already getting butterflies in his stomach. Slowly purple highlights started to appear on his skin, matching the black outlines perfectly. They truly were a Picasso. 

‘There now you have true art on your hand.’

‘Confident are we?’

‘Only when it comes to inter-soulmate communications.’ 

He liked them. He knew that from the first moment. A smile took its place on his face as he saw new letters forming on his skin, warmth blooming in his chest as he stared at their conversation. Soulmate...maybe he wasn’t so lonely after all. 

UA High. This is it. He was finally here. A place where heroes were made. It’s his time to show all those pesky brats that called him a villain that he could be a hero. A fine one at that. Getting placed in the general department was a disappointment and kind of a let down. He thought he did well on the exam. Apparently, having a grape quirk was more hero material than his brainwash. He wasn’t fazed though and neither was his soulmate. They hadn’t stopped speaking since their first conversation back in middle school. His day would start with a small, sloppy good morning scribbled on his wrist. They were there for him whenever he needed someone to rant to and he was always their shoulder to cry on. Well inky shoulder? They had agreed to keep their identities a secret along with their gender leaving everything to the hands of fate. 

‘She shall bring us together, babe.’ They always called him that, not that he minded. 

‘Well she should hurry up kitten.’ And he in return he given them that pet name. They never complained. He hadn’t mentioned which school he applied to, only that he would be becoming a hero. So when they mentioned something about a Bakugou Katsuki he was intrigued. 

‘Yeah he is in my class. Super annoying 0/10 would not recommend.’

 They went to the same school. What a coincidence. Maybe fate did work fast. Choosing his next words wisely he replied. 

‘So you are in class 1-A huh? Funny.’

‘How do you know that?????’

‘I’m in the general department that’s why.’

There was no response for some time. He knew Aizawa was a harsh teacher when it came to discipline, he gets a taste of his discipline every afternoon at six,  so he didn’t write anything else. Later that day, during his training, the familiar tingle distracted him. Glancing down on his arm, he totally missed Aizawa’s capture tool coming straight for his leg. Before he knew it, he was swiped off his feet and started hanging upside down from a branch of a nearby tree. 

“You are distracted Shinsou!” Aizawa sighed below him. Hitoshi read the message quickly before turning his attention back to his teacher. 

“I’m sorry Aizawa-sensei.” 

“Yeah yeah just don’t be like that during your training with my class. You remember that it starts tomorrow right?” Aizawa said as he got him down, letting him fall with a loud thud. 

“Yes sensei I know.”

“Great, now go get some rest I don’t want you passing out the moment you step in the forest.” 

Shinsou had never gathered his things quicker. Draping his jacket over his shoulders he sprinted to his dorm, an idea forming in his mind. He didn’t know if you wanted to meet him yet but he sure as hell wanted to see you. Grabbing a pen from his desk he scribbled under your previous message. 

‘Can you draw one of your mandalas on my wrist?’ 

Y/N was late. Like super late. She had missed her first alarm and had only gotten up because of the pounding at her door. She had stayed up the previous night drawing something for her soulmate. She kept messing up and redoing her work one too many times. Reaching her classroom she slid the door open and tiptoed to her seat seeing as Aizawa-sensei hadn’t gotten out of his sleeping back yet. Sitting down she let out a sigh of relief as her friend leaned over to her. 

“Late night with your soulmate???” She sang teasingly which only made Y/N roll her eyes. 

“Shut up Sky!” Soon they were instructed to put on their hero costumes and meet their homeroom teacher at the edge of the mini forest right in the outskirts of the school grounds. 

Skipping out of the girls locker room she looked down at her wrist where the mandala from last night looked back at her. She ran her fingers over the lines wishing she could see the design on the recipients skin.  

“Come on man! We’re gonna miss the intro move your ass!” Sky grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, ruining her moment of longing as they made their way to the forest. 

Aizawa-sensei was accompanied by another person. A boy almost at his height with vibrant purple hair and the most tired eyes Y/N had ever seen. He was staring at the class giving small nods when someone asked him something. 

“This is Shinsou Hitoshi. Most of you will know him from the sports festival, he fought the problem child.” Midoriya hid his face in his palms at the name. “He will be joining the hero course come next year so have fun training with him.”

Shinsou raised his hand to scratch his neck, a nervous habit Y/N concluded, when she saw the intertwining lines on his wrist. The purple stood out. It was more vibrant on her design, slightly losing it’s shine on his pale skin possibly because he received it. Was that? Was he? 

“Who wants to pair up with him?” at that her arm shot up instantly, without even thinking. Aizawa motioned for the rest of the students to find their partner as she made her way to him. He was taller up close, her head barely reaching his chin. Extending her drawn on hand she greeted him. 

“Y/N L/N, nice to finally meet you Shinsou.”

Bonus:

The house was quiet. Oddly quiet. Hitoshi let his bag drop next to the coat hanger as he took off his shoes. The TV could be heard playing from the living room but no voices accompanied it. Where was she? Making his way to the kitchen he found a bowl full with steaming soup that looked like it had just been made. He left it on the table, his first priority being to find the girl he was looking for. Slowly walking up the stair he heard a humming coming from the room down the hall. 

Once at the top he made his way to the pastel violet door, grasping the knob and pushing it open. He was met with the back of his soulmate, humming the soft tune he had heard earlier as she rocked steadily back and forth. The mess of purple hair on her shoulder raised its head revealing those stunning e/c eyes he adored so much. 

“Daddy…” the little girl in Y/N’s arms let out a low sleepy mumble. Turning around she saw her husband standing in the doorway of the nursery, a smile adorning his face as he looked at Kei. Kei, at the sight of her father, started doing grabbing motions trying to leave her mother’s embrace. Hitoshi let out a low chuckle as he took the two year old in his arms, letting her wrap her chubby arms around his neck and nuzzle into his neck. 

“Happy birthday Toshi.”

Shinsou Hitoshi could have never imagined he would be here today, holding his daughter as his soulmate stared back at him. He was happy, beyond happy actually. Words could not express. Extending an arm out to her, she took it tucking herself under his chin as one of her hands came to rest on the back of her baby. Kissing both of his girls, he squeezed them closer to him.  

 “Thank you kitten. For everything.”   

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