#look i am very pro-strike

[heich0e]

ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.

it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.

but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.

shouto.

you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.

your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.

so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.

and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.

peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.

"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"

in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.

"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."

you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.

"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."

you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.

"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.

shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.

"how are you feeling?" he asks.

"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.

"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.

"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"

"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.

and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.

"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.

"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."

"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.

shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.

"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.

shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."

"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.

"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."

you laugh, and then cough a little.

"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.

"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"what?" you ask him curiously.

in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.

"sho-shouto! wait!"

he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.

"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.

"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."

you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.

shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.

you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.

[augustlilyflower]

placements that I personally think are really easy to recognise in people

disclaimer: I am not a pro at this at all, like literally not at all I’ve just been fixated on astrology observations for years and noticed that some placements in astrology are really obvious and easy to spot in people

- Aries Venus

for me, it’s in regards to Aries Venus men rather than the women since it’s only the men I’ve had experiences with so I don’t know if it’s the same for women; but these are the boys who when they are pursuing you (and they will be the ones doing the active pursuing) you will know it and it will feel like a game. Not to repeat the phrase most ppl on astrology use with Aries, but it is just like a game of cat and mouse. Aries venus embodies this energy of Aries so strongly.

they’re not the type to back down very easy and they are really kind of straightforward with their intentions. These boys I’ve had experiences with are nice and fun, and theyre harmless at the end of the day, but if they like you they will go from 0-100 and they will not be subtle about it.

- Scorpio placements in general

These guys are intense. Usually their eyes are really striking in some way - not necessarily the colour, just the look in their eyes. Strong eye contact. Also in my experience scorpios and Leo’s (I am a Leo haha) are the most open about their sign? What I mean is that they usually know what their zodiac sign is - whether they believe in astrology or not they will have googled and found out their sign and they will have no problem telling people their sign.

- cancer rising

You just know.

- Venus influence

hate to be stereotypical but in this case the stereotypes are RIGHT. Gorgeous, gorgeous people. Libra, Taurus, 2nd, or 5th house placements. Or strong Venus aspects. This person is so likeable, and can charm their way out of any disagreement. My favourite manager at work is a Libra, and many friends of mine are libras. My manager is so many customers favourite employee at work, and she knows exactly how to keep the peace between coworkers. Also such a symmetrical face. Like even before I asked what her sign was in convo, I just knew she was a Libra. Usually Venus influence indicates some form of popularity in whatever way.

- virgo moon

in a platonic sense, the kind of friend who will go with u (and ENJOY) to do your daily/weekly errands. Loves helping in some way. Perfectionist habits, focus on details, and has likely dabbled in some form of cooking or baking.

- people with Leo placements

just so obvious. Usually really good hair, or just a lot of it. Or some kind of interest in hair care, the type to splurge on expensive hair products (definitely not calling myself out here 👀)

Like with Scorpio, is the type to know their sign and brag about it.

-Aquarius placements

The people you see with the funky hair colours, piercings, band t shirts, mullets probably, just someone who in some way is a little different than the norm. The people with Aquarius placements who I know however are usually the “cool” girls or boys, the ones who are known or liked by many and tend to have this nonchalant aura about them. (Whether they actually ARE as chill and nonchalant as they present themselves depends on the other placements in their charts)

Additional:

I also want to add that I think that the placements you have in your natal chart have an influence on what kind of energy you will find easier to spot when meeting new people.

For example, here’s my chart:

Leo sun 9’ (2nd house),

Cancer rising 11’ (+ cap descendant),

Virgo moon 27’(4th house),

Virgo Mercury 3’ (3rd house),

Leo venus 4’ (2nd house),

Pisces Mars 10’ (10th house)

here you can see how my chart is similar to placements I find easy to spot in new people.

I think someone having the same rising sign as you is probably something most people will find easy to notice when you know the basics of astrology, because unless you have a lot of aspects to the ascendant or planets in the 1st house, there is usually always some part of the stereotype that does tend to fit?

E.g., I’m a cancer rising and the appearance stereotypes are things such as a round face, big/watery eyes, soft/pale/“glowy” skin, bigger chest area, kind of sad looking eyes?, and overall quite soft features. A lot of these features are applicable to me, and when you search up celebrities with the same rising as you I guarantee you will notice key features shared between them all.

So I usually find it a lot easier to spot when someone is a cancer rising in comparison to any other rising sign.

[ssa-dado]

Hi! So following up from your (incredible) breakdown of Hotch's apartment, I've always wondered why stayed in the apartment to raise Jack after Foyet/100 and I'd love to hear your thoughts about it!

Obviously, his and Haley's marital house was out after everything but the same apartment he got stabbed in is wild to me and to then to Jack who was held hostage by the guy who stabbed Hotch by the dining table? I get if it was for security with less points of direct entry but Foyet got in??? Is there a garden or green space for Jack to play in? Does Hotch do a background check on all new tenants?

Anyway, this is not anti-apartment slander because I happily live in one myself but I'm so interested in why Hotch would since he clearly has the means (Rolex watches are not cheap lmao) and this feels like the right platform to discuss it haha what do you think?

Breaking down Hotch's apartment layout until someone from Criminal Minds slides into my DMs with the damn floorplans: (The Empire Strikes Back)

I’ve thought about this a lot (maybe too much) and I honestly believe Hotch stayed in that apartment building for a mix of reasons. It’s not just one thing. Maybe one factor weighed heavier than the others, but ultimately, I picture him doing one of those classic pros and cons lists, like the fussy man he is, and letting the whole picture guide the decision... does it make sense??

Now, if we look at the architectural typology of his building, we know it follows a comb-plan layout - meaning it features two semi-enclosed, semi-public green spaces that are open toward the street. (I even made a little sketch to visualize it because I’m a visual learner... Like, I don’t know what “Hotch’s hands” means until I see them. Someone please send references...pls???)

That said, the green spaces aren’t the reason he stayed. Sure, the building has them, but they’re likely shared among all tenants, mostly decorative, and maybe even off-limits in terms of actual use (some buildings do that.. yikes). Plus, they’re super open to the street, which means they’re not really safe or private enough for Jack to play in.

So I don’t think the green spaces themselves were the selling point.

I think he stayed because of the overall architectural quality of the building. It's a historic structure (from mid 1920s-1930s??) that’s been carefully restored, updated with 21st-century systems and amenities, and built with high-quality materials and finishes. Maybe there’s a park nearby where Jack can actually play safely. Maybe it’s closer to his school. It also doesn’t strike me as a suburban area, which could be another plus - city life offers access to public transportation, shops, cultural spaces, sports activities… all of which might've played into the decision.

I am so so so so here for this headcanon and I fuck so much with the background check idea because yes, he absolutely asked Garcia for help and no, he doesn’t think that was an overstep. It was a precaution. For Jack.

Also, I’m convinced he’s very active in the tenant community.

He’s the one who created the condo group chat - no one asked him to, but it’s impeccably organized, with pinned messages and!!! a color-coded spreadsheet of recycling days (I'm European, this is wired into my DNA, sorry) he made himself at 3 a.m. on Excel. He barely answers texts from his team, but the second someone reports “unusual noises near the trash chute,” he’s replying in 0.3 seconds with “What time? Which floor?”

Sure, he’s fussy about noise (especially when he’s actually home) but he’s also the one everyone turns to when the building manager starts power-tripping or the garbage hasn't been collected. You’ve got a broken washing machine? Hotch already emailed the landlord and the building’s legal obligation clause. Trash not yeeted? He’ll yeet it himself. The man has a complex Google Drive dedicated to tenant rights #prosecutor!Hotch

I will die on the hill he is a chatty grandma. Sure, he’s serious, but he knows everyone’s business, and somehow people trust him with their extra keys and gossip. He's fbi, he's cunty, he has great hair... hello???

(Like, you knock on his door and say, “Sorry to bother-” and he’s already saying, “Your cat escaped again? He's in apartment 127, do you need anything else?”)

Another reason I think he stayed in that apartment is because, most likely between s3 and 4, he started spending some time there with Jack. I’m not sure how the co-parenting with Haley worked logistically, but I can easily imagine him having Jack over on weekends when he wasn’t working, or at least trying to carve out that time. And that apartment became part of Jack’s routine, part of what "home" felt like to him, Hotch probably couldn’t bring himself to move.

I don’t think Hotch stayed there for himself. Psychologically of course, it’s not the healthiest choice (he was literally stabbed there by Foyet) but it is the best choice for his son. And unless you’re talking about his job, Jack always comes first.

And Hotch… Hotch always comes last.

I think he bottled everything up. I don’t even think he fully let himself consider that the apartment might be an unhealthy place to stay in. If the thought of moving did ever cross his mind, I’m almost certain it wasn’t about him. It wasn’t “I don’t feel safe here,” it was: What if someone breaks in again? What if Jack’s here? What if it happens when I’m not home?

He stayed because Jack knew that place. Because changing homes again would be another loss. Another shift. Another instability. And Hotch would rather carry the weight of that trauma alone than risk making his son feel displaced.

Sooooo... yep. That's it. I guess.

Thank you so so so so much for the ask!!! I'm so so so curious to know what are YOUR! thoughts!!

[alpaca-clouds]

Let Us Talk About Insects For Once

I could swear I have talked on this before, but I cannot find it (tumblr search is still busted) and also, it is something important, that sadly a lot of the big science communicators have communicated wrongly - mainly due to trying people to care about it.

You probably have heard this phrase before: Save the bees!

And the image this conjured up for you is this one:

The kinda adorable, fluffy little honey bee, who make nice and tasty honey for us, are being kept all around, and also have a very weird movie about interspecies romance dedicated to them, that communicates this issue wrong once more.

Well, what if I told you, that a) honey bees are just a very tiny minority of the insects responsible for polinating plants in the world, and b) are actually doing right fine, given that they are somewhat domesticated and people make money with them. So yeah, to the shock of absolutely no-one the Bee Movie is horrid pro-honey-bee propaganda.

Instead the animals mainly responsible for polinating our plants are other species of bees - those actually endangered often - who live often more solitarily and do not produce honey either at all or in as high quantities as the honey bee does. Butterflies, moths, wasps, flies, beetles and wasps instead are doing a whole lot of polination work, too.

And yeah, I get that the flies - such as the humble hoverfly - are not as cute or sexy, as the honey bee is, but... we kinda need them fort his whole pollination shit. I mean, by as much propaganda as the Bee Movie it, it was right about one thing: While it would absolutely not affect anyone if all honey bees went on a worldwide strike (good labor coordination though!), if we run out of polinators we might be a bit fucked.

So, honor the beetle and the humble hover fly.

Of course polination is not the only thing that we need insects for.

Yes, I am well aware that most time humans think of insects mostly as annoying pests, but let's be honest: We kinda know that they are somewhat important for the eco-system.

Other jobs that insects take over in the eco-system include, but are not limited to:

Removing waste (such as feces and dead animals)

Providing a food source for all sorts of small critters

Help plants filter water

Loosen the ground by digging through it and making it hence better suited to grow plants

Control one another and other animals, who without them would turn into a danger for humans and/or the eco-system

And that is without helpful jobs insects might actually take over for humans - especially in agrarculture, like hunting other pests or breaking down weeds.

So, you might notice: Even the stupid, digusting kinds of insects are kinda important and fulfill their own specific place in the eco system.

And as anyone who so much as looked at a car in the year 2000 vs today might have noticed... insects are kinda in trouble. Because in the year 2000 your typical car windshield looked like this:

Which is not what it tends to look like today. And while this is anecdote and not scientific data, we of course also have studies that confirm this subjective information.

Scientists have measured the biomass of insects in the environment with certain measures and have found results worthy of concern. Over here in Germany the flying insect biomass has decreased by 75% between 1989 and 2016. Sweden found the same 75% for a similar timeframe. The ground based insects looked better, though their biomass is harder to measure. Depending on the study their biomass has decreased between 18 and 34% over the last 30 years.

An US study found that the overall biomass has decreased by about 34% in the US, the abundance of insects (basically how densely they live and how likely it is for you to encounter insects) however by 61%. And mind you, the same study noticed that while this is an issue the abundance of certain insects - ones that in their current population might become a problem for either humans or the environment - increased.

Several studies also have found that while these decreases were observed, a similar decrease was observed in some species feeding on certain insects - especially birds and certain rodents.

Which lets me speak about the origins of this issue. Why are the insects dying?

I am guessing that both solarpunks and guerilla gardeners might be most familiar with the issue of the lawn and the impervious surfaces.

To make it short: A lot of insects rely either on earth to dig in, or on those plants to polinate - because it is an important food source. They might also rely on certain forms of biological waste (like dead animals and animal feces). And basiclly in a lot of areas we removed all of this. We replaced natural flowers with well maintained lawn, and compacted the ground, if not sealed it all together with concrete. We also remove those dead animals and the animal poo from nature, because it bothers us. And with that we take a lot of insects important elements to live on.

Which means that, yes, ideally a garden should look a lot more like the one beneath than what the HOA (a thing that pretty much is non-existent outside the US) wants you to have.

But again, this is not where it ends. We need more ground that is not sealed and not compacted. We need ground that insects can live and borrow in. Just as we need some animal carcasses to just rot where the animal died - and some animal poo to stink up some areas were humans might live. I am sorry, but there it is.

And yes, I hear you screaming. "But what about the poison?!" And yes, that is also another issue, that definitely is impacting the biomass - though the abundance is more influenced by the last three points.

Basically, yes, a lot of the stuff that farmers use to fight off either weeds or pests are obviously also killing the insects that we technically would love to survive. Because poison tends to not differentiate.

And then there is of course the other issue: Invasive species and climate change.

Germans might be well aware of these fuckers, that kinda look like ladybirds (no, but really, why are they called ladybirds and not ladybugs?) but are not. Or are, but not the right one. Basically they are species of ladybirds that are from other places on the world and somehow ended up over here, where for a variety of reasons they kinda end up killing the local ladybirds. Partly by competing for food sources, partly by being poisonous, and so on.

And of course they are not the only invasive insect species. In fact, the most invasive species tend to be insects and arachnids. And the reason for them living here is two fold.

While most of the time insects and arachnids tend to not be rewilded in places were they are not supposed to be, they do at times hitch rides on humans who travel the world - or in the luggage of said humans.

At times some of those species just happen to do the travelling on their own. For example, I spent the last two years collecting a couple of spiders of the Nosferatu spider species, that just managed to make their way from Southern Europe up here to Germany on their own.

And the reason they manage to survive is obviously climate change. It has gotten too warm and a lot of insects that would not survive here before now are capable of doing so.

And of course some insects that are natural in these parts, can no longer survive because it is too hot for them.

Those issues are obviously not just a thing in Germany. They are a problem basically everywhere.

Which reminds me of one thing. Don't get me wrong. There is some insects that are generally not really beneficial outside of feeding birds maybe. Mosquitos are one of those, which is why there are researchers arguing for erradicating them. Not becuase their bites are annoying, but because they get us - and some animals - all sorts of sicknesses. (Even though we obviously know that their existence once saved earth, lol)

But yeah, insects dying is a problem. And we should do something about it. Not just the sexy honey bee, but also some annoying flies and stuff.

And because y'all managed to read all of this so far, you get a picture of a pretty butterfly.

[sirxaibs]

Present Mic / Hizashi Yamada x Reader

⋆˚✿˖° Feedback Loop ⋆˚✿˖°

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ This man has zero chill, and I have zero chill for him. He’s a freak. He has to be. The studded leather jacket proves it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ You all see loud and annoying I see a rockstar who would definitely date a younger woman. peak rockstar behavior. Except instead of the wild, bad boy type, he’s got the personality of a total dad rock guy. classic vinyl collection, bad puns, probably owns at least three band tees from the ’80s.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Anyway, this is teacher him, but you? You’re the new TA, and unfortunately, you’re already down bad and you’ve BEEN down bad…. The way I wrote this is a little taboo… how your high school crush on Present Mic never really faded, and now, as a new UA TA, you’re right back where you started… only this time, he’s looking at you differently.

Anyways I wrote this very light hearted!!

Warnings: idk you simp for older man and he sorta flirts back. you’re 22 in this story but yuh

૮₍´｡ᵔ ꈊ ᵔ｡`₎ა You could hear the distant hum of the city below as you and Hawks crouched on a rooftop, surveying the warehouse across the street. It was a classic sting operation, intel suggested a group of low-level villains were stockpiling illegal support gear, and you two were here to put a stop to it before things escalated.

Hawks adjusted his goggles, barely looking phased. “Man, these guys never learn, huh?”

You smirked. “You sound almost bored.”

“‘Cause I am,” he admitted, stretching his arms lazily. “I could’ve wrapped this up ages ago, but apparently ‘reckless property damage’ is frowned upon.” He threw up air quotes, grinning.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, heaven forbid you actually follow protocol.”

Hawks snickered but then glanced at you, tilting his head. “So, what’s next for you, anyway?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, c’mon, you’ve got the skills, the power, and a shiny little hero license,” he said, casually flicking a feather toward the warehouse to listen in. “You ever thought about… I dunno, long-term plans?”

You frowned. “I am a pro hero. This is the long-term plan.”

Hawks hummed. “Yeah, for now. But what about later? You gonna keep doing this forever?”

You huffed. “What else would I do?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Some heroes eventually go into support roles, some do solo work, some…” He gave you a pointed look. “End up teaching.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks.”

Hawks snorted. “Wow. Said that real fast.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t exactly strike me as ‘teacher material’ either.”

“Hell no,” Hawks said without hesitation. “I’m not about that ‘shaping young minds’ crap.” He waved a hand. “I don’t got time to babysit kids who think they’re hotshots just ‘cause they passed an entrance exam.”

You exhaled through your nose. “You do know they need heroes to train the next generation, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hawks said lazily. “Good thing there’s people out there willing to do it. But me? Nah. I care about results. Not teaching a bunch of kids how to throw a punch.”

Something about that didn’t sit right with you. You fell silent, watching the warehouse as Hawks kept talking.

“I get why some people do it,” he continued. “Sure, it’s important, but I’d rather be out here handling real threats, not lecturing some kid about ‘proper combat form.’”

You pursed your lips, staring at the city skyline. You’d never really thought about teaching before. You’d always assumed you’d stick to hero work, fighting, saving people, that’s what you trained for. But…

Wouldn’t it be better if newer heroes were properly prepared before getting thrown into all this? Before they had to stand on rooftops like this, watching crime unfold and making impossible choices?

You suddenly remembered your own time at U.A., the mentors who guided you, the lessons that stuck with you, the moments that shaped you.

Hawks might not care about the next generation. But maybe… you did. You inhaled deeply. “Someone has to do it.”

Hawks glanced at you. “Huh?”

“Teach,” you clarified. “Someone has to make sure they don’t just become a bunch of reckless brats.”

Hawks smirked. “That sounded real pointed.”

You ignored him, mind already racing. Maybe this was something worth considering. Maybe making a difference didn’t just mean being in the field. it meant helping others get there, too.

Before you could say more, Hawks suddenly grinned. “Welp. We can debate hero philosophy later. Right now-” He flexed his wings. “I believe it’s ass kicking time.”

You exhaled, pushing the thoughts aside. Teaching could wait. For now, you had a mission to finish.

—-

The idea had been nagging at you ever since that mission with Hawks. You hadn’t been able to shake it, how different would things have been if someone hadn’t taken the time to teach you? If the pros before you had just decided they didn’t care about shaping the next generation?

It was a dangerous job. Heroes had to make impossible choices every day.And if you could help even one student avoid the mistakes you had made… wasn’t that worth it?

So, when the opportunity to assist at U.A. came up, you took it. Standing at the school gates, you felt incredibly unprepared.

The school looked the same as when you were a student. The towering gates, the familiar pathways, the slight hum of excitement in the air.

But now, instead of wearing a uniform, you were standing here as a pro hero. A teachers assistant to the very people who had once trained you.

Before you could start spiraling, a very familiar voice rang out. “Nooooo waaay!”

You barely had time to react before a blur of yellow moved into your peripheral vision.

“Yo, Y/n!!” Present Mic grinned, stepping right in front of you. “Look at you, all grown up and back at U.A.!”

Your brain stalled for a moment. Because oh. Oh no. You had mentally prepared yourself to see your old teachers again, sure.

But Hizashi Yamada? The very same Present Mic who had been the coolest teacher when you were a student? The one whose energy was infectious, who had somehow made learning fun, whose voice had been a constant in your life back then?

Yeah. You were not ready. You forced yourself to smile. “Hey, Mic.”

He grinned even wider. “Man, this is wild! Feels like just yesterday you were wandering the halls! Now you’re back and all pro hero-y!” He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “I knew you were gonna be big someday!”

You swallowed. Say something normal. Say something normal.

“Uh well, you were one of my favorite teachers, it was bound to happen if you were there for me” you blurted. The moment the words left your mouth, you immediately regretted them.

Hizashi’s eyebrows shot up, and then he smirked. “Ohoho? Is that so?” He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. “Favorite, huh?”

Your face burned.

“N-not like that!” you stammered, waving your hands. “I just.. I mean… your class was fun, and..” He laughed, clearly enjoying your suffering. “Man, this just keeps getting better.”

You groaned, covering your face.

Hizashi grinned, rocking back on his heels. “Well, it’s good to have you back. These kids are gonna love you.”

You exhaled, trying to compose yourself. “Yeah, well… let’s hope I survive them first.”

“Pshh. You survived me, didn’t ya?” He winked. “This’ll be a piece of cake.”

Your heart stuttered. Oh. Oh, this was going to be dangerous for your heart.

—

The halls of U.A. felt different now. As a student, they had been full of excitement, nerves, and the overwhelming presence of those who had come before you. But now, walking through the main building as a pro hero and teacher, the weight on your shoulders felt entirely new.

You adjusted the hem of your hero costume, feeling the crispness of how new it was. Even though you had experience in the field, nothing quite prepared you for standing in front of a room full of students expecting to learn from you.

“You got this,” you muttered to yourself, taking a steadying breath before stepping into the teacher’s lounge.

Aizawa was the first to look up, his usual tired expression unreadable. “You’re early,” he noted, setting down his coffee.

“I figured I’d try to make a good impression,” you replied, attempting a casual smile.

Present Mic leaned against the counter, grinning. “First day jitters? Don’t worry, we all had ‘em. Well, except for Eraser here. He just scowled his way through it.”

Aizawa sighed. “I still do.”

You chuckled, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Midnight strolled in. “Oh, our new young hero teacher has arrived! Ready to inspire the next generation?”

“I hope so,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck.

Midnight winked. “Confidence is key. And if all else fails, just channel your inner Aizawa, give them the stare.”

“I’m right here,” Aizawa deadpanned.

The conversation continued as a few other teachers trickled in, welcoming you and offering small pieces of advice. It was reassuring, knowing that despite the prestigious reputation of U.A., the staff was still just a group of people doing their best.

Then, the bell rang. Your first class was waiting You turned to see Shouta Aizawa standing up and heading to the door, coffee in one hand, capture weapon draped loosely around his neck. He looked as exhausted as you remembered from your time as a student, but there was a small, approving nod in his greeting. “. Ready for your first day?”

You gave him a firm nod. “Yes, sir.”

He raised a brow at the formality but didn’t comment. “Good. You’ll be shadowing me for the first week. Learn the flow, get used to the kids. Don’t let them walk all over you.”

You swallowed. “They’ll try?”

“Of course,” he deadpanned. “They’re future pro heroes. Testing limits is in their nature.”

Before you could respond, the bell rang. Aizawa gestured toward the door. “Come on. Let’s introduce you.”

Walking into Class 1-A’s homeroom was surreal. The chatter died down the moment Aizawa stepped inside, eyes instantly on you. These weren’t just random students; these were the next big names in hero society, brimming with potential. Some of them were already whispering, clearly recognizing you from your own hero work.

Aizawa’s gaze swept over them, and the class immediately straightened up. “This is Lumine. She’s a pro and will be assisting in your training from now on. Treat her with respect.”

You took a step forward, clearing your throat. “It’s nice to meet you all. I was in your place not too long ago, so if you have questions or need advice, I’m here to help.”

A student raised a hand, an excitable redhead in the front row. “Can we see your Quirk in action?”

You smirked. “Maybe another time perhaps your next training session.”

A few students groaned in disappointment, but a blue haired student beside him adjusted his glasses, nodding approvingly. “A professional approach. I look forward to learning from you.”

As the students got to work, you exhaled, easing into your new role. First day nerves or not, you were ready for this. After all, you weren’t just here to assist you were here to help shape the future of hero society.

As Aizawa turned to the board, the atmosphere in the classroom shifted. It started small whispers, giggles, but you could feel it. The moment your eyes met with some of the students, they looked away too quickly, stifling laughter like they were plotting something.

Then, predictably, a hand shot up.

“Yes?” you asked, already bracing yourself.

Denki Kaminari grinned, leaning back in his chair. “So, uh… what’s your type?”

A few eyes shot up to stare at him. Particularly a certain purple adjacent kid started glaring. You blinked, thrown off for only a second before regaining composure. “My type?”

“Yeah, you know,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Like… in a romantic sense.”

“Denki.” Iida’s voice cut through the air, scandalized. “That is highly inappropriate to ask a teacher’s assistant!”

“But it’s important info!” Denki argued, slouching in his seat. “Like, what if we need to set her up with someone?…. like myself” he muttered the last part but the rest of the class gathered what it was.

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m here to teach, not to date.”

Denki clicked his tongue. “Damn, there goes my plan.”

“Your what?” you asked.

Jirou groaned, smacking her forehead. “He’s been muttering about ‘securing the ring’ since you walked in.”

You blinked. “Wait. Excuse me?”

The class lost it.

Even Aizawa, who had been diligently ignoring the nonsense, finally turned, rubbing his temples like he had a migraine forming. “Kaminari. If you spent as much effort on your studies as you do on flirting, you might actually be a decent student.”

Denki pouted “Sensei, that’s harsh.”

You crossed your arms, fighting back a laugh. “I think what Kaminari meant to ask was if I have any advice for balancing hero work with personal life.”

The blond perked up. “Ohh, yeah! That’s totally what I meant!”

Aizawa sighed. “Right. That’s enough for today. Open your books before I start handing out laps.”

The class groaned but obeyed, even as you heard whispered bets being placed on whether Denki would propose by the end of the semester.

Class had barely settled before you heard the unmistakable sound of a palm smacking the back of Kaminari’s head.

“Ow!” Denki yelped, rubbing the spot where he’d been hit.

“Quit being an idiot,” Bakugo grumbled from his seat, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like he was personally offended by Kaminari’s entire existence. “You sound pathetic.”

“Excuse you, Bakugo, but I was just making conversation,” Kaminari shot back, still grinning despite the clear lack of support. “You don’t understand romance.”

Bakugo’s glare sharpened. “I understand that you should shut the hell up”

“Damn, man,” Kirishima cut in with a chuckle, elbowing Bakugo. “Give him a break. It’s not every day a there’s someone new teaching. Let him dream.”

Bakugo scoffed. “It’s embarrassing.”

Before Kaminari could retaliate, Mina gasped dramatically, slamming her hands on her desk. “Wait, wait, wait! Kaminari’s getting all the attention here, but I think we’re missing the real question!” She turned to you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Who was your teacher crush when you went here?”

The class erupted.

“Ohhh, good one, Ashido!” Sero laughed, leaning forward on his desk. “C’mon, spill! Was it Aizawa-sensei?”

At that you whipped to turn to aizawa but you can see he’s already regressed into his sleeping bag.

“Present Mic?” Kirishima guessed. “He’s got that cool vibe, y’know?”

“I swear if anyone says Midnight, I’m walking out,” Jirou deadpanned, already rubbing her temples

.

You held up a hand, trying to contain your laughter. “Okay, okay, first of all, just because i’m barely older than you all doesn’t mean I’m just going to gossip.”

A wave of boos filled the room.

“Second of all,” you continued, ignoring them, “That wasn’t even anything I thought about when I was your age”

Mina sighed dramatically. “Ugh, so responsible.”

“I’m literally here as a teacher’s assistant,” you reminded her, crossing your arms. “What did you expect?”

“Secret romances,” Kaminari answered instantly.

“You guys watch way too much TV,” you muttered.

Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Todoroki, who had been silent this whole time, slowly turned to Momo. “Is this… normal?”

Momo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Unfortunately, yes.”

At the front of the class on the ground, Aizawa audibly exhaled, already regretting everything. “I should’ve taken the day off.”

The teasing finally died down after a few more minutes, mostly because Aizawa threatened extra homework, but you could still hear the occasional whisper of “I know it was Aizawa” and “Kaminari’s totally going to propose by the end of the week.”

You barely made it into the teachers’ lounge before dropping into the nearest chair with an exhausted sigh. The first half of the day had been absolute chaos. You knew Class 1-A had a reputation, but no amount of mental preparation could’ve readied you for Kaminari planning your imaginary wedding, Mina interrogating you about teacher crushes, and Bakugo nearly committing homicide out of secondhand embarrassment.

Aizawa sat down across from you, looking unsurprised. “You survived.”

You exhaled, rubbing your temples. “I think so.”

Before he could respond, the door slammed open. “YOOO! How’s our newest teacher assistant holding up?!”

Your stomach flipped. Present Mic strolled in, grinning ear to ear, and before you could even process the way your heartbeat definitely skipped, he was dropping into the seat beside you, all energy and enthusiasm.

“I heard 1-A gave you a hell of a welcome,” he laughed, elbowing you lightly. “Gotta say, I love the enthusiasm, but you good?”

Your brain was short circuiting. He smells good. Why does he smell so good?

You snapped out of it immediately. “Y-Yeah! Totally fine! Just y’know, Students being students, and uh, some… unexpected questions.”

Aizawa gave you a slow, knowing side eye but said nothing, sipping his coffee. Hizashi leaned in slightly, his expression full of curiosity. “Ohhh? What kind of questions?”

The door opened again, giving you a much needed second to gather yourself as Midnight, Cementoss, and Snipe walked in. Midnight smirked the second she spotted you. “Oho? Is this about the interrogation 1-A put you through?”

You groaned. “Why does everyone already know about this?”

Cementoss chuckled. “Word travels fast when it involves that class.”

Snipe took a seat, tipping his hat back. “So? What’d they grill ya on?”

You hesitated, but of course Midnight leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Don’t be shy now. Spill.”

You exhaled in defeat. “Okay, fine, Kaminari apparently thinks we’re getting married, Mina demanded to know if I ever had a teacher crush, and the rest were just hyping them up.”

Silence. Then, Midnight lit up. “Oh, now this I gotta hear.”

“No, you really don’t,” you muttered.

But it was too late. Present Mic gasped dramatically beside you. “WAIT.” He pointed at you with exaggerated excitement. “You had a teacher crush?!”

Your face felt hot. “Nope! That’s classified information,” you said way too quickly, reaching for your drink like it could physically save you from this conversation.

Hizashi let out an offended noise, leaning closer. “It’s me, isn’t it?!”

Your brain short circuited. Your entire body froze. Aizawa, who had been silently watching this train wreck unfold, took a slow sip of his coffee. “It’s not you.”

“You don’t know that!” Hizashi shot back, grinning, and oh no, he was looking right at you.

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, but you refused to crack. “I- I am not answering that.”

Midnight smirked, clearly catching something. “Hmm… interesting.”

You glared. “Drop it.”

“Never,” she teased.

Meanwhile, Hizashi was still grinning, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Aw, c’mon! I won’t tell anyone!”

You buried your face in your hands. “I literally don’t trust you.”

The teasing continued as the rest of the staff ate, and even though your entire body was still burning from that interaction, you had to admit… it wasn’t a bad way to spend your break.

—

You walked beside Aizawa, still recovering from the absolute disaster that had been lunchtime. Your face felt like it was permanently warm, and you were convinced you’d never be able to look Present Mic in the eyes again.

“So,” he started, voice dry as ever, “you want to be a teacher?”

You nodded, still staring ahead, trying to will away your embarrassment. “Yeah. I mean, today was hectic, but it felt… right, y’know?”

Aizawa hummed. “Uh-huh.”

Something about his tone made you glance at him warily. “…What?”

“Oh, nothing.” He took a slow sip from his coffee, expression unreadable. “Just thinking about how subtle you were about it in the lounge.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He side eyed you, and even though his face barely changed, you could feel the judgment.

Your stomach dropped. “I—what—” You groaned, covering your face. “Please stop.”

“Just saying,” he continued, deadpan, “if this was a test on subtlety, you’d be repeating the year.”

You groaned louder. “Oh my god.”

He sipped his coffee again, shrugging. “But, y’know. Mic’s an idiot, so you’re probably fine.”

“That is not reassuring.”

He didn’t respond, just kept walking like he hadn’t just ruined your entire life. You, on the other hand, were spiraling. How obvious had you been? Was everyone going to figure it out? Was Hizashi already onto you?

Before you could fall further into despair, Aizawa glanced at you again. “But if you’re really serious about teaching, you should stick with it. You did fine today.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Sure.” He paused, then added, “Just maybe work on your poker face.”

You groaned one last time, and Aizawa smirked ever so slightly as you both headed back to class.

—

It was the next day and stared at Aizawa like he had just told you to fight a Nomu with your bare hands.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re assisting Yamada for the day,” Aizawa repeated, his tone flat as always. “He’s leading practical drills, and it’s good experience for you.”

Your stomach twisted. This is fine. This is totally fine. It was not fine. Because Present Mic. Hizashi Yamada was the one teacher you definitely didn’t trust yourself to be normal around.

It had been so much easier when you were a student, admiring from afar. But now? You had to work alongside him, one on one, for the entire day, and if yesterday’s conversation in the teachers’ lounge was anything to go by, you were one slip-up away from giving yourself away entirely.

Still, you swallowed your nerves and forced yourself to nod. “Got it.”

Aizawa gave you a slow, knowing look, because of course he did but didn’t comment. “Good. He’s in Gym Gamma. Try to keep up.”

You huffed. “I can keep up.”

Aizawa smirked slightly like he knew something you didn’t. That was never a good sign.

—

By the time you reached Gym Gamma, you could hear his voice from outside the doors.

“Alright, listeners! Today’s all about reflex training! You gotta be fast, ya gotta be alert, and ya gotta be ready to move at a moment’s notice!”

You took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The moment you did, Hizashi turned to face you, his signature grin in full force. “Ayooo! There’s my assistant for the day!”

You swore you felt your heart stutter for a second.

“Hope you’re ready!” he continued, jogging up to you. “’Cause today’s lesson is all about speed and adaptability!”

You forced yourself to nod, pretending you weren’t two seconds from combusting. “Right. Sounds good.”

He clapped a hand on your shoulder, and oh no he’s touching me—

“You ever seen my sound-based reflex drills in action before?” he asked, completely oblivious to the absolute crisis happening in your brain.

“uuuh not up close.”

He gasped, offended. “WHAT?!” He grabbed his chest like you’d personally wounded him. “Then today’s your lucky day, sidekick, ‘cause you’re not just assisting, you’re participating!”

You tilted your head. “oh? set the stage then”

The students murmured at that, sensing the challenge. Hizashi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Ohooo, confidence! I like it!”

You just smirked. “Let’s get started.”

—

The second he fired off his first attack “HEY!!” your body reacted on instinct. In reality this was probably the worst person to fight against you for the demonstration against mic. Because with his quirk it basically didn’t work on you

Before the shockwave could hit, you shifted into light, letting the sound waves pass through you harmlessly before reforming on the other side.

The class gasped.

Even Hizashi blinked in surprise. “Well damn!!”

You shrugged, barely fazed. “Sound doesn’t hit photons the same way.”

Hizashi’s grin grew. “Ohhh, this just got interesting.”

What followed was an all out battle of speed.

Every time he tried to catch you off guard, you moved like light itself, phasing through attacks, blinking across the battlefield, even absorbing energy and redirecting it when necessary.

At one point, he fired off a rapid burst of sound—

“YEAHHHHH!!”

—and you split into pure photons, streaking through the air before reforming behind him.

The students went wild.

Kaminari practically screamed. “YO, THIS IS INSANE!”

Mina was jumping up and down. “OUR TEACHER ASSISTANT IS A BADASS!”

Meanwhile, Hizashi looked positively thrilled.

“You’re fast,” he admitted, pushing his shades up. “I like that.”

You smirked. “Told you I could handle myself.”

His grin widened. “Alright, alright, I see you.��

—

Training continued as you and Mic took turns guiding the students through drills. By the end of the session, they were still buzzing with excitement, practically vibrating with leftover energy. You, on the other hand? Barely broke a sweat.

Even after all that work, they were still hyped.

Mina came sprinting toward you, a crowd of students following close behind. “You are officially my favorite person now.”

“SO—ABOUT THAT MARRIAGE PROPOSAL—”

Before he could finish, Bakugo decked him straight into the ground. You barely had time to react before you were kneeling beside the poor guy, eyes wide in alarm.

Meanwhile, Shoto stood nearby, still deep in thought. “Can you move at the speed of light, or is it just partial?”

Midoriya, frantically flipping through his notebook, barely spared the scene a glance. “And if your body converts into photons, do you still feel force? Can you absorb soundwaves instead of dodging them?”

“Sensei, can you teach me how to be that fast?” Mina asked, practically bouncing.

“Yeah!” Kirishima grinned. “You gotta have some training tips, right?”

You chuckled. “It’s all about reflexes and learning how to read your opponent. I’d be happy to show you some drills.”

The class collectively cheered.

Even Bakugo gave a considering nod, though he still scowled. “Tch. I guess that was decent.”

Hizashi, standing beside you, elbowed you lightly. “Look at that, you’re already building a fan club.”

You felt your face heat up. Not now, heart. Not now

You sighed with a smile on your face, rubbing your temples before looking over at Hizashi, who was grinning like a proud parent.

“Man,” he said, shaking his head. “Didn’t expect you to steal the whole show!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Hizashi strolled over, hands on his hips, still beaming. “I gotta say, did not expect you to be this OP.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Guess I like surprises.”

He chuckled. “Well, consider me pleasantly surprised.”

Then, he winked. Damn it. You were this close to completely losing your composure.

—

The students were still hyped as they cleaned up, practically buzzing with leftover energy. Kaminari was full on re enacting the moment you dodged a sound blast, complete with dramatic slow-motion effects, while Mina hyped him up like a ringside announcer.

Meanwhile, you and Hizashi strolled toward the exit, letting them finish up.

“I gotta say,” he grinned, hands behind his head, “I knew you had skills, but damn! You didn’t even break a sweat!”

You smirked, keeping it cool. “Well our quirks kinda cancel each other put, I don’t know if i’m all that good”

He laughed, and damn it. why did it sound so nice up close?

“A bit of an advantage? You made dodging my attacks look like a warm up.”

You shrugged, playing it off. “Maybe I’m just really fast.”

He shot you a teasing look. “Ohhh, I see how it is, you’re humble about it, too.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, but something about this moment felt… surreal.

Because walking next to Hizashi like this, like equals, just chatting after sparring was something high school you never would’ve imagined.

You used to have a massive crush on him. And not just a little one. No, it was bad. He was your teacher, but also the funniest teacher in the school. You always looked forward to passing him in the halls, laughed at his corny jokes, and maybe, maybe daydreamed a little too much about him calling your name in attendance.

And now?

Now you were working with him. Now he was grinning at you like you were someone worth his attention.

You were so distracted by that realization that you nearly walked straight into a wall.

“Oi.” Hizashi nudged you before you could embarrass yourself further. “You still with me?”

You cleared your throat, trying to refocus. “Yeah! Yeah, just, thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oho? What about?”

How I used to have a hopelessly embarrassing crush on you, and now you’re standing next to me, smiling, and my brain is actively trying not to short circuit.

“…Lunch,” you blurted instead. “Thinking about lunch.”

Hizashi blinked. Then laughed, shaking his head. “Man, if that’s what’s on your mind after training, I must not’ve pushed ya hard enough!”

You grabbed onto the distraction like a lifeline. “Oh, please. I could do that all day.”

He shot you a grin. “Good. ‘Cause we’re definitely doing that again.”

Your brain short-circuited.

Oh.

But, no. You weren’t gonna let him have all the fun.

Summoning whatever ounce of courage you had left, you smirked. “Oh yeah? You sure you can keep up?”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized your mistake. Hizashi’s grin widened. Way too much.

“Ohhh,” he said dramatically, cupping his ear. “What was that?”

You instantly regretted everything.

“I—I said—” You hesitated. Why did he look so amused?

“You asking if I can keep up?” He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. “Ohooo, you’re getting bold!”

Your face burned. “Never mind.”

“Nah nah, too late now!” He laughed, giving you a playful nudge. “I love this side of you!”

You turned away, internally screaming. Hizashi, completely unaware of your impending emotional crisis, just grinned. “Hope you’re ready for round two, Y/n!”

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to recover. “Looking forward to it,” you said, managing to sound almost confident.

Hizashi?

He just smiled that was the moment you knew, you were so screwed.

.

——-

It started off as a normal conversation in the common room. The class was unwinding, chatting about training, when Mina, of course, had to bring it up.

“Okay, but seriously,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the couch, “did anyone else notice the energy between Present Mic and our assistant today?”

Sero smirked. “Oh yeah. Flirt Central.”

“Flirt Central?!” Kaminari sputtered, nearly dropping his drink. “Nuh-uh. No way. I refuse to accept this!”

Mina blinked. “Uh… what?”

Kaminari crossed his arms, looking like a very pouty child. “They’re our teacher. They shouldn’t be flirting with some old dude!”

“Old dude?” Midoriya raised an eyebrow. “Hizashi-sensei is 30.”

“Yeah, and our TA is 22! That’s a huge gap!” Kaminari argued.

Yaoyorozu tilted her head. “eight years is maybe stretch for—”

“I don’t care! It’s not fair!” Kaminari whined, flopping over onto the couch.

Mineta, who had been unusually silent up until now, suddenly slammed his hands onto the coffee table.

“You’re all missing the point!” he cried dramatically. “This is a mentorship t-to-slow-burn romance unfolding right before our eyes! WOMEN WHEN THEYRE VULNERABLE MAKES THEIR BOOBS so-”

The room collectively groaned.

“Mineta, shut up,” jirou snapped from the corner.

Mineta ignored her, eyes sparkling with excitement. “We should be celebrating this! They have the perfect dynamic! The confidence! The power balance! The forbidden allure of—”

Jirou smacked him over the head. “You’re disgusting.”

“OW! You just don’t appreciate a good romance—”

“I appreciate not hearing you be a creep,” Jirou shot back.

Meanwhile, Kaminari was still sulking. “I don’t care what any of you say. Our assistant deserves someone their age. Like…like me!”

The room went silent.

Mina squinted. “Denki. You’re 16.”

Kaminari groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “That’s not the point!”

“Yes, it is,” Sero said bluntly.

“But, like, imagine!” Kaminari sat up. “What if we had a thing going instead? They’d be so much happier with me!”

“Dude, you barely passed last week’s quiz focus on today first,” Sero deadpanned.

Kaminari gasped. “That has nothing to do with my marriage!”

Meanwhile, Midoriya, who had been furiously scribbling notes the whole time, looked up.

“You guys are focusing too much on how… conventionally pretty she is” he said nervously . “What we should be discussing is how their quirks could compliment each other in battle.”

Iida nodded. “Now that is a productive conversation.”

“Boooooring,” Mina said. “I wanna talk about how they’d be the coolest staff couple ever!”

Kirishima grinned. “Yeah! Imagine the interviews!”

Ochaco gasped. “Oh my gosh, the fan edits would be insane.”

“I know!” Mina grabbed her shoulders. “Someone has to start a ship name.”

Kaminari screamed into a pillow.

As the chaos unfolded, Bakugo groaned, standing up abruptly. “I swear if you extras don’t shut up about this, I’m blowing up the common room.”

“Aw, c’mon, man!” Kirishima laughed. “You gotta admit, they have good chemistry!”

Bakugo scowled.

—

Meanwhile, completely unaware of the discourse happening in the dorms, you were in the teacher’s lounge, where Hizashi was currently trying to convince you to join him for karaoke after work.

And if your face was a little too warm every time he winked at you…

Well.

Nobody needed to know.

You: i'll see a man with long hair and remember i'm not above temptations of the flesh

[theocddiaries]

Shadow: Honestly, you've always known what to say and helped me a lot. Sonic: It's nothing. Anyone would have done the same. Shadow: You know that's not true. Everyone here looks at me with fear. Rightfully so. You're one of the few who has never done that and tried to include me. Thank you for the effort. Sonic: It wasn't any effort. Shadow: Hm. [gives him a peck on the cheek]: Good night. [leaves] Sonic: Yeah, night… um… [runs to his house] --- [Shadow arrives home, where Rouge is lying on the couch watching TV] Shadow: Rouge. Rouge: I'm watching TV. Shadow: I kissed Sonic. Rouge [turns off the TV and sits up]: Come on, sit with me and tell me everything! --- [Sonic has arrived home and is telling his brothers and Amy] Sonic: It was just a peck. Knuckles: Did you like it? Sonic: I think so. Tails: Damn it. Amy: Shut up! --- Rouge: Talk! What else happened??? Shadow: Nothing else happened. He just looked at me and I left. I think I shouldn't have done it. But I like him. He's always kind, efficient in the field, remembers personal details about me… Rouge: I'm so happy for you that that sounds like the most romantic thing I've ever heard. Shadow: But I don't want to pressure him. I just wish I could talk to him about it. Rouge: Well, don't worry about that, I've seen Blue strike up a conversation with the ATM. --- Sonic: I don't know what to say to him. Tails: 'No' is a nice word. Amy: Tails, stop. Knuckles: Sonic, what do you want to do? Sonic: Well… not mess it up. Like I almost did with Amy. Amy: Sonic, that was different. We weren't compatible in that sense. Sonic: And how do I know if I am with Shadow? I don't want him to think there's something wrong with him, or worse, that he realises there's something wrong with me. Knuckles: There's nothing wrong with you. Tails: Just your taste. Amy: He's very lucky to have such a supportive brother. --- Rouge [typing on Shadow's phone]: You're so lucky to have such a gossip sister. This is my element. Shadow: What are you typing? Don't send it without letting me see it fir-- Rouge: Sent. [hands the phone back to him] Shadow [frowns] Rouge: You're welcome! --- Sonic: He sent me a message. Amy: What does it say, what does it say? Sonic: "I'd like to talk to you. I don't want to pressure you. Tell me when you're ready." Tails: Well, okay, he's earned some points. Amy: Oh, how cute, let me see-- Sonic: Wait, I closed it… damn, I gave him a missed call! --- Rouge: Oh, look, he gave you a missed call! How cute. That's a good sign. Shadow: You think so? Rouge: Of course. Shadow: So what should I do? Keep talking to him or wait for him to sort things out? --- Sonic: What should I do now? Talk to him or wait it out? I can't sort it out. Amy: Think about what you'd like. Sonic: I’d like to be more than friends, but I don’t like the idea of a conventional relationship. Knuckles: If it helps, I don't think Shadow does either. Amy: I think that's your sign. Tails: Why don’t you make a list of pros and cons? --- Shadow: I like lists. Thank you, Rouge. Rouge: Anytime, sweetheart. [Phone beeps] Rouge: Oh, another missed call! Put that in the pros. --- Sonic: Stupid phone! Someone take this thing away from me!!!! Here, just hide it under a cushion where it can't make me mess it up more!

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Wedding Invitations (2)

Summary: Colter Shaw x Fe!Reader -> You and Colter have known each other since you were 15. He was there to help you once, and he's here to help you now.

Disclaimer: This is Part Two. Fluff, maybe some light swearing. Mostly just cute fluff, with the added addition of some slightly annoying family members.

“Reenie,” Colter’s voice came out a little shocked as he held up the suit in front of him. “It’s tailored.”

Reenie smiled on the other end of the phone. “You’re welcome.”

“How is it tailored?”

“Relax, James Bond. I have a video, remember? I sent it to Bobby and he used his magic and got your measurements.”

“What video-” Then Colter remembered. “Please delete that.”

“I don’t think so. You’re very…appealing to the eye, shall we say. But the look of shock on your face…I think I might make it my screen saver.”

“Please don’t.”

“Just make sure to get to the venue on time.”

“I will.”

And he did. 

However, it just took him a little longer to actually find his date. 

But once he spotted you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

You stood, dressed in the bridesmaid’s gown you’d been given, in the corner talking - or rather, being interrogated – to one of your aunt’s. 

But Colter’s breath knocked him out for a few seconds. He’d seen you dressed up before. He’s seen you…like this before. But something just felt…different. 

“But, honey, if he doesn’t show, what am I meant to say? That my niece got jilted at the altar and is now making up dates? Do you know how that would look?”

“There is more to me than being engaged,” you replied. 

Colter smiled. 

You frequently kept in contact with each other and over the last couple of months, you seemed happier. Certain things you’d remember when you were with Jonathan and you’d, slightly, be thankful that you were no longer together. 

Now, you could bake whenever you liked in the kitchen, not having to be worried if it would upset his sense of smell. You could finally finish TV shows you’d been dying to watch, without fear of spoilers or someone getting bored and switching it over. You could also finally decorate your bedroom how you liked. Of course, you liked it how it was. But the small things, like the colour of the throws, and pillows, and the way you organised your clothes. It could be…you. 

When certain events came around, it hurt. Like what was meant to be your wedding day. The entire day you just walked around a garden centre looking at plants until you grew hungry and went to get a pizza. 

You even managed to go on a couple of dates. 

They never lasted longer than a month or so, but it was nice to have the feeling of moving on. 

Until you got cornered by your aunt, interrogating you over your relationship status and if you had in fact made up your date for the evening. 

Thankfully, luck was on your side because just as she was about to point out the list of pros a relationship can provide, Colter came up behind you. 

And your aunt fell silent. 

At first she was shocked. The fact that you did, in fact, have a date and it just so happened to be a man that looked like Colter was the first part. Then she smiled. 

“My goodness, didn’t you strike lucky with this one,” your aunt said, talking to you. 

Until you felt Colter’s hand on your arm. “I did.”

You smiled and leaned a little into Colter, silently revelling in your aunt’s shock at his answer, rather than yours. 

“Please, excuse us.”

You walked Colter away from your aunt before she could quite literally jump on him. 

“Thank you for coming, nice tux by the way.”

“Reenie.”

“Figured. She does know a good tailor.”

“What was that back there?”

“My aunt? Oh, yeah, apparently being a tenured history professor doesn’t live up to the same standing as being a married tenured history professor with a kid on the way.”

“Shouldn’t they be more focused on, I don’t know, your happiness?”

You nodded. “Most of them are, but there’s just the odd few who don’t realise how deep they’re actually digging their knives.”

Colter studied you for a moment. “Are you okay?”

You looked up at him. “It’s been a long day.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“I have been up since four am, I feel like I’ve been poked, prodded, burned, scratched and pinched on every surface of my body. God only knows how Ida is feeling, and she’s the bride. I just hope they start the wedding soon because my feet are killing me.”

You lowered your hand to meet your raised ankle, to rub at it for a moment. 

“Don’t you wear heels for work?” 

You nodded. “I do. But they’re broken in. These are not.”

“But I thought-”

“Last minute change.” You quickly explained. “Either way, I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“No need. I was in the area.”

“How was the case?”

“Quick, easy. Stolen car. The husband reported it missing, but it turned out his mistress had stolen it because he still hadn’t left his wife.”

“Wow.”

“I was there when they had the argument. Got heated, let me tell you that.”

An hour later, the ceremony started and Colter’s eyes rarely left you. People laughed and cried during the speeches and you couldn’t have looked happier for the couple. However, the minute it was over you found Colter before he could find you in the sea of wedding guests. 

And for the next forty minutes whilst the new bride and groom shared some alone time surveying their venue, yourself and Colter found two seats at the back of the hallway. 

From your purse you pulled out a small pile of plasters. 

“Here, let me.” 

Colter tore some of them open whilst you angled your foot to place them on the growing hot spots. However, just as you placed your feet down on the ground, thankful to feel the flat floor, your aunts seemed to have jumped out from the corner beside Colter. 

And you were both subject to different questions until they finally opened up the doors to the dining hall. 

“Thank god, I’m starving.”

Colter managed to get yourself and him around the crowd to find your seats. You’d been placed at table four with a couple of the other bridesmaids and their partners. 

For most of the night, it ran smoothly. You ate, drank, danced. All in all it was a fun evening. You listened to the different speeches made by the parents and new in-laws. 

However, when couples were dragged onto the dancefloor, you were fully prepared to sit that section out. Until Colter reappeared from the gents toilets, just past the bar, and lowered his hand to you. 

“Colter…”

“It’s just dancing.”

It took you a moment before you placed your hand in his and allowed him to pull you towards the dancefloor. 

Holding you in his arms, his hand enveloped yours by his chest whilst his other hand remained securely on your back, your own hands in his and on his shoulder. 

For a while, you both danced. Slowly, holding each other closer. Until Colter shocked you by dipping you slowly with the song. 

And you smiled. 

And so did he. 

Bringing you back to your feet, he spun you close to his body before pulling you back in. 

“I don’t know if I’ve said this already, but thank you. For coming, I mean.”

Colter smiled, leaning down. “You never have to thank me for coming to you.”

“I do mean it, though.” You told him. “I could have made up an excuse or found someone else. You didn’t have to say yes, and you did, and I’m…glad. Thank you.”

“Do you have anything else to do? For the wedding?”

You shook your head. “Not unless Ida needs to go to the bathroom.”

“Can’t the other girls help her?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Want to get out of here?”

Usually, you would have said ‘no’, but something changed when you looked at Colter. So, you replied. 

“Yes. But let me say goodbye, first.”

Colter nodded, letting you go for a moment whilst you walked around the dance floor to where Ida was standing by her table, finding her drink. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Ida smiled as she looked over your shoulder and back to you.

After that, you grabbed your bag and found your hand in Colter’s as you both made your way out and away from the wedding. 

Colter helped you into the passenger seat of his truck, closing your door for you. By the time he got into the driver’s seat, you already had one of your heels off. 

It wasn’t long before Colter was pulling up alongside his home, and grabbing the small bag of groceries from the back whilst you hooked your heels through your fingers, hitched up your dress and carried the pizza box inside. 

Shutting the door behind you, Colter came back out from his home and took the box from you before helping you up the stairs. 

By the time he closed the door behind him, you were already pulling the pizza box open as you sat down by the table. 

“So they just had one delivered to the classroom?”

You nodded. “Yep. It was the final day and they did share, so I let them off with a warning. It’s fun to have cake delivered to the classroom, but it’s also not school policy to have food delivered during class time.”

“Sounds like I missed a party.”

You laughed before taking a bite of your pizza. 

It wasn’t long before you found yourself snooping around Colter’s place, leaving him sitting at the table, watching your every move. 

“You have a mug from every state? Hey, wait a minute.”

Colter hung his head to cover the smile creeping up on his face before he looked back at you. He tried his best to remain guiltless, but you could practically smell it on him. 

“This is my mug.”

“Is it?”

“This is my mug that has been missing for three months.”

“Three months? Sure you didn’t just leave it at work?”

“This is my mug that you stole-”

“Stole?” Colter asked. “You should have set up a reward.”

“-from my home.” You gasped a little, trying to hide your smile. “Oh, Colter. I never pegged you for a thief.”

“Finders keepers, I say.”

“Oh,” you said, your eyes never leaving Colter as he stood and walked closer to you. “The Rewardist is calling finders keepers now, is he?”

“I believe he is. Considering you never set up a reward.”

“Because I thought I lost it.”

“Oh, well in that case.” Colter plucked the mug from your hands before placing it back on the shelf in pride of place. “It’s still lost.”

“Oh, really?”

He shut the door. “Really.”

However, when Colter looked back at you, you felt something shift. It felt silent in the camper. Too silent. And yet somehow, too loud. You were suddenly aware of your own breath, trying to find a way to keep it controlled in order to avoid suspicion until you noticed Colter seemed to be, albeit more subtly than you, doing the same thing. 

However, just as you felt yourself leaning in a little and seeing Colter doing the same, it was like something pulled you back into reality. 

Cleaning your throat, you placed your gaze anywhere else. Or, at least, the very least, you tried. Every other second, your eyes flashed back to him as you both leaned against the counter and dared not look at each other. 

“I better-”

“Yeah.”

However, despite that awkwardness passing when Colter jumped into the shower and you had full access to snoop. You found a picture of himself, his brother and his sister. By the looks of it, his mom had made them all pose for it. And it didn’t look like it was that long ago.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“This your brother?”

Colter paused for a moment. “Maybe. Why?”

“He’s hot.”

Colter tried his best to hide his groan. “Please don’t tell him that. It’ll only inflate his ego.”

You chuckled softly. “Relax, Colt. It’ll just be our little secret. Besides, he’s a little too…burly, for my type.”

“Burly?” Colter asked, trying his best to not let his smile show in his voice. But you heard it. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view though. Your mom seemed to strike gold with her children.”

Colter paused for a split second, not holding back the smirk. “Are you saying I’m good looking?”

“Shit,” you thought to yourself. “Don’t let it inflate your ego, Shaw.” You told him. “Just because you’re not…unpleasant to look at.”

The shower cut off and a moment later, the shower door opened causing you to turn around and face Colter as he stepped out, sweeped up in steam whilst his towel remained securely wrapped around his hips. 

“Unpleasant?” Colter repeated. 

“You have nice…” you swallowed, taking in the picture in front of you. Colter. Shirtless Colter. Wet hair, smelling great, shirtless…Colter. “Eyes.” you forced yourself to finish, whilst also forcing your eyes to look at his face. 

But he caught you staring. 

He half smiled coyly. 

“Eyes, hm. Never heard that one before.” 

Turning around, you found yourself watching him and his back, partly memorising the small scars you saw littering his back before he turned back around and closed the door. 

Ten minutes later, it was you being his bedroom door getting changed. However, the struggle came with your dress. 

“Colter?”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help.”

You slid open the door. “My dress. Can you do the zip?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Walking closer, Colter found the top of the zip and pulled it down watching it loosen around your shoulders and hips before it reached the bottom. 

“Thanks.”

Colter cleared his throat a little as he closed the door on you once more to let you get dressed. 

When you opened it again, you were dressed in a t-shirt and what looked to be Christmas pyjama bottoms. 

Your hair that had been styled for the wedding was now a little messier, but out of your face a little more. 

And at some point between brushing your teeth and arguing with Colter over which movie to watch, you fell asleep beside him. 

Little did you know, everything would change when you woke up. 

A small sliver of light was coming in through his blinds, lighting up the side of your face in a warm glow of the first breath of the morning sun. And all Colter could do was watch you for a moment. 

You were so still and calm. No thought process that made your brows furrow or made you rub your hands across your face. Not worrying about getting up early or grading papers or teaching a class was only taking it for the credit rather than the actual joy of the subject. 

You were just…you. 

“Are you watching me sleep?”

“You look peaceful.”

“Only seems fair. I watched you.”

“I knew it!”

“Shut up.” You laughed a little, digging your head further into the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Early, I’d guess.”

“How early? Because if it’s before eight, then I’m using you to block out both the light and the cold.”

Colter turned over and looked at his watch. 

“It’s before eight.”

You groaned and when Colter turned back around, it looked like you were wishing for the bed to swallow you whole. 

“Come here.”

Scooching closer, Colder wrapped the blankets, along with his arm, around your back before allowing you to lower your head against his chest. 

“You really are like a hot water bottle.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

After a few moments of silence, which included Colter unknowingly tracing patterns on your back with his hand that lay under you, you asked him a question. 

“Where did you get your scars from?”

“Hmm?”

“The scars on your back. They’re small, but they’re deep. Where did you get them?”

“Since when did you know how deep a cut was?”

“I’m a History Professor.” You told him. “I’ve seen plenty of case pictures.”

Colter smiled a little before nodding and explaining a couple of them. 

“Okay, so what about this one?”

Your finger lightly traced an old bullet wound on his shoulder. 

“Bullet wound.”

“What?!”

“Relax, it wasn’t fatal.” Colter assured you. “Hurt. But it was a clear wound.”

“I can’t believe you got shot.”

“Twice.”

“What?”

“And that’s just recently.”

“Do you make it a habit of getting shot?” You asked him. 

“I try not to.”

And then there was that look again. Except this time there was no turning away. There was no escaping to a shower or bathroom. Mostly because, well, you were interlinked. 

But also because…you didn’t want to. 

Laying beside Colter, it made you feel…calm. And for the first time, you didn’t want to turn away. 

So when Colter pulled away for a moment before leaning in further, accepting your nod, you let his lips meet yours. 

It was shy at first. New. Uncertain. You’d both been friends for over twenty years and in the blink of an eye, you were kissing him. 

But then, something broke. Or, rather, moulded into place. 

You pulled Colter closer, holding the side of his face. Whilst his own hands pressed you closer to him before one creeped up towards your own face, through your hair and back down your back. 

After that, it felt like your body was moving independently, or maybe with your mind. 

Pushing up, Colter rolled onto his back, still holding onto you before you managed to move to straddle him, your hands running down his chest before he shot up to meet you once more in a kiss where your arms stretched over his shoulders just as his own hands were beginning to make a mess of your hair, letting it down from the scrunchie you had thrown it up into. 

However, before things could go any further, a call came through Colter’s phone. 

Looking to his bedside desk, you looked back at him and for a moment, you wished it would stop. But then, reality hit. 

“You should answer that.”

“Wait.”

“Answer it, Colter. It could be important.”

It took Colter a moment but he stretched back as you climbed off him, escaping out of the bedroom as he answered it. 

“Hey Teddi,”

Forgetting your shoes, you grabbed one of Colter’s sweaters and made your way outside, being hit with fresh, but very cold air that was as close to a cold shower as you could get for the time being. 

However, it wasn’t long until Colter opened up the door and walked down the steps to where you were pacing back and forth. 

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- we-we shouldn’t have-”

“Shouldn’t we have?”

“Should we have?” 

“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking. Do you regret it?”

“No. At least, not yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stopped pacing and faced him. “What is this, Colter? Because I don’t have any answers. And we’ve been friends for, what, twenty years? I didn’t even see this coming. I- did you see this coming?”

Colter had to speak truthfully. “Not exactly.”

“See. So…what do we do? Do- are…are we meant to forget it? Do we move on?”

“Do you want to move on?”

You shook your head. “Colter…I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe we don’t have to know.”

You looked at Colter. “You do know me, right?”

Colter smiled a little and walked closer towards you, albeit a little slower than normal. 

“I do,” he nodded. “Which is why I am going to ask you this. Not thinking of anything else, not thinking of how it will change things, did you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,”

“And not thinking about that, would you want to do it again?”

“Colter…” You could feel yourself blushing, hard, as Colter got closer to you. 

“Just answer the question,” he smiled reassuringly, his voice a little softer. 

“Maybe…yes.”

“And if I asked you that tomorrow night,” Cotlet took one of your hands in his, slowly, before picking up your second.”Could I take you out on a date, what would you say?”

“Yes.” 

“Then, tomorrow night, at seven o’clock, can I pick you up from your home and take you out on a date?”

You finally met Colter’s eyes fully, for the first time, since you were lay in bed. 

“Yes.”

Colter smiled, leaning in closer. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes.”

[maliciouslove]

ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕪 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕡

✧ pairing: fuckboy smileball barista!denki x reader  ✧ summary: having a slimebucks apron is equal to having unlimited rizz (source: me) and denki proves it by bedding his brand new colleague on her very first day of work.  ✧ word count: 5.5k ✧ tags: dubcon(?), manipulation(?), weed and alcohol use, oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, forced orgasm, pussyjob, unprotected sex, pulling out, size difference (denki is Tall and Lanky TM), unappropriate work relationship, scummy denki, no feelings.

✧ my submission for the @bastardblvd Slimeball collab ✧

✧ AN: happy birthday to my little slimy fuckboy denks <3 this was so fun to work on, genuinely love being a grimetown resident now. the fanart is made by me but i'm no pro so.. be kind please. :D it was written in a daze so if you see discrepancies.. look away. based on my own tiny starbucks where i work (i am slimebucks denki incarnate). you may expect of me to make this a slimebucks series.. katsuki or touya next? ;)

Denki doesn’t like morning shifts — he doesn’t like how grumpy people are first thing in the morning because it makes scoring dates much harder for him. No matter how bubbly and pleasant he is, Monday mornings are just a bad time to flirt with clients. Most customers don’t even spare a glance at him, too busy figuring out their schedule for the day and burying their noses in their phones. He does, however, enjoy the morning business attire — stockings, pencil skirts, white shirts that allow him to see the outline of a bra underneath… and those heels. Something about office fashion always getshim riled up. 

Typically, if he couldn’t strike up a conversation with the morning customers he would settle for watching them, eyes trailing down their crossed legs when they sit down to enjoy their coffee. He would follow their elegant movements and the curves of their bodies — from the corners of their painted lips turning upward in delight after a sip of hot coffee, to their dainty ankles decorated by the ankle strap of their heels swinging to the rhythm of the music playing softly on the speakers.

That is how his Mondays usually go, yet today he couldn't even enjoy that, all because of a new recruit.

His manager Katsuki (that angry bastard) had not even mentioned to them that he was hiring; he announced only yesterday that there would be a new trainee, pushing the responsibility of showing them around the store and kicking off their barista training onto him. Of course he wouldn’t ask Touya to train them — he would end up with his cock in his hand less than ten minutes into the start of his shift due to his “side hustle” schedule conflict, which in turn would scare off any new hire… and then the hiring process would have to start all over again. Katsuki himself is not much better off as barista trainer, his constant irritation and habit of screaming at everyone and everything has made many employees quit (and cry) early on, but the reason he was shoving the responsibility onto Denki was simply that he wouldn’t be in the store due to a manager’s meeting in Tokyo.

Bummer. 

According to the clock on the wall, the new hire should be coming in any time now, so Denki settles for focusing his attention and efforts on that instead of his grumpy morning customers. And then, there you were in your yellow raincoat, all sunshine and smiles from the moment you step inside the store. Denki gives you a once over and decides maybe this Monday morning wouldn’t be so awful after all — you were cute and far too innocent and optimistic looking for him not to take advantage and have a little… fun. 

His plan begins to form before you’ve even laid eyes on him.

“Hi! You must be the new addition to our team, pleasure to meet you!” The blonde extends a hand to greet you, his most charming smile plastered on his face. “Our team is a bit of a sausage party right now, so I hope you can bear with us and not get discouraged. We desperately need someone like you on our team.” 

“Oh I can tell, your merch cabinets look very… dry. You fellas are not big on decorating, are you?” Your heartfelt laugh nearly disarms the blonde man as he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, admitting that the three men working there did not have the best sesne of aesthetics and beauty. 

Oh, you were just his type — confident, energetic, and just a bit too kind and trusting. 

“Well, you’re here to save us, right? How about we get started on your training, get the boring part over with so we can get to know each other better.” 

There was not a single pure intention behind his words, but his face remains the picture of innocence and kindness. He’s had time to practice this look after all — can’t let people find out what’s behind the sunshine facade now, can he?

“Oh well training shouldn’t take long, I worked at a different Slimebuckslocation before moving to this part of town, hence why I’m being transferred here. I can get around drink making just fine, so you can just show me around the store I guess?” You bat your eyelashes at him and Denki thinks of you as a pure miracle. This expedites the timeline he had in mind.

With a pep in his step, he shows you around the store and back of house, informing you where they keep extra syrups and toppings at the front and the storage in the back. He hands you a new apron and name tag while informing you of the usual cleaning routine and covering all the basics that you need to get around the new store on your own. Not that he follows these cleaning routines that closely anyhow, but hey, you were here to pick up the slack now.

“So, think you got everything? Any questions?” Denki leans back against the bar on his elbows, long black painted fingers interlocking in front of his torso. He’s laid back and so pretty it’s almost distracting. A regular person has to exert effort not to stare too long at his honey colored eyes that crinkle when he smiles.

However, you cannot get too distracted — you must remain focused and make a good impression today. 

“Yes, can I please rearrange and restock your merchandise cabinets? They do not spark joy and desire to buy in their current state. No offense.” 

“Have at it.” Denki does not break eye contact, not once — feline eyes following your every move, gears turning in his head and schemes hatching in his pretty little head. 

He doesn’t want to seem too overbearing, but he also doesn’t want you to think he isn’t interested. So, as it is pretty quiet in the store right now, he decides to give you a hand with the merchandise, chatting with you — learning about you. After all, the only times he actually puts effort into his minimum wage job arewhen there is a prospect of a cute girl removing her panties for him. 

“So, you live nearby?” he begins to prod at you with innocent questions.

“Ah, not quite. I have to take a bus to get here since I don’t have a car anymore. I live on the east side of town, close to that big mall they built recently.” 

Denki is easy to talk to, a nice balance budding between the two of you as he takes boxes out and hands you colorful cups and tumblers to put on the shelves. 

“Hey, I live around those parts, too, I can give you a lift after work, save you some bus fare. Unless you have some super jealous boyfriend or something?” Despite flunking out of college, Kaminari isnot stupid — he isplaying his cards just right, creating an opportunity to learn if you’re single and give you an option to spend more time with him, which isn’t really an option. Unless you do have a boyfriend, you wouldn’t have a reason to say no, not after the deliberate way he phrased it. 

“Haha, no, no boyfriend — kind of the reason I don’t currently have a car and why I had to move.” There’s an edge to your voice, maybe even a trace of anger, but to him they appear as feelings that seem to have simmered down. “I got out of a long relationship recently. We used to live together and share a car, but I had to get my own place after the breakup, and he took the car. And the dog.”

“That bastard!” Denki chimes, a bit too exaggerated, but he figures making a small joke won’t actually hurt. “Really though, that sucks. I’m sorry it happened.” 

The way he switches from being a clown to being a gentleman can give a person whiplash. 

“Don’t be, I’m not sorry it happened.” You shrug your shoulders and give him a wide, genuine smile. “Now I get to hook up and have flings whever I want.” 

You keep the tone light, and you mean what you said — you’re not looking for anything serious right now, and the satisfaction from your answer was well written on the blonde’s face. He was cute, so maybe you’ll play along, have fun for once. 

“So this means you’ll let me give you a ride?” 

“If you really don’t mind?” You put the final tumbler on the shelf and examine your work in delight. Meanwhile Denki examines your body in delight. 

“Oh, I’d be honored to.” A devious grin adorns his face as he follows you behind bar to help serve customers. 

The day goes on, the playful banter between you and the blonde continuing — turns out you have similar hobbies: you like the same movies and games, you even have similar music taste, and Denki relinquished the store music rights to you for the day. 

Your shoulders would brush as you work side by side at the coffee machines, and he would laugh shyly, complimenting your pace and how well you’re adjusting to the new store. The exchanges between the two of you were flawless, seamlessly passing each other lids and pitchers without so much as saying a word. 

Kaminari gave the perfect performance of a man who enjoys his work; he didn’t even obnoxiusly flirt with every beautiful girl that placed an order. 

“Hey, can you grab some more caramel drizzle from the back?” Denki asks after a huge line of people finally dissipates and gives room for some tidying up and restocking. 

“Yea, absolutely. Need anything else?” 

“Also grab some extra bags of coffee beans and vanilla syrup if you can?” 

You nod and head to the back of house energetically.

Denki’s been working here for over two years now, so he knows that after this rush there won’t be anyone in the store for another half an hour at least, so sending you to the back of house away from customers was a calculated move. As soon as you disappear behind the doors he follows — after all, you wouldn’t be able to carry all that back to the front on your own.He should give you a hand. 

Smiling to himself, he enters the storage area to see you standing on your tip toes trying to reach the bags of coffee on the top shelf. Quietly he walks up behind you, one hand on your waist to pull you back a bit, the other hand reaching above you for the coffee beans. 

“Be careful. If you can’t reach somewhere, just call for me. Don’t want you getting hurt back here.” He can feel you melt into him and rest your back against his chest as he takes the four-pound bag down for you. 

“Oh, sorry… I thought I was gonna be able to reach.” You smile at him, realizing how he was surrounding you in that moment, and something about itmade your skin tingle. “Thank you.” 

“Of course! I figured you wouldn’t be able to carry everything at once so I came along to give you a hand.” The two of you stood very close to one another in the cramped storage, but you didn’t mind, as it was far too cold back here, and Kaminari was pleasantly warm to the touch. “The caramel drizzle is all the way down on that same self, if you want to grab that?” 

Eager to complete the task, you turn around and bend over to open the box labled “caramel drizzle,” giving Denki a perfect view of you round ass, making him gulp hard. If he just reached forward he would be able to trace the curve of your ass with his hand, squeeze one cheek as his other hand trails down your side. 

He shakes the thoughts out of his head as you stand back up, several bags of caramel sauce in your hands. You were squishing them playfully which was not helping Denki in keeping unholy thoughts at bay. 

“I always loved the texture of these bags; it’s so stress relieving to play with them.” Grinning up at him, you were the picture of innocence. 

“Yea, they remind me of tiddies.” Denki blurts out without even thinking, too enthralled by his imagination showing him images of you wrapping your pretty lips around his cock and playing with his balls. Once he realizes what he said he waves his hands around in defence. “No, no, not what I mea–” 

“You haven’t touched boobs recently, have you?” You deadpan, and he can feel his heart sink. “Boobs are much more firm. I get where you’re coming from, but a bag of caramel sauce can not compare to a tit.” You say matter of factly while squishing a bag with your hand. “Can’t do that to a boob, can you?” 

Denki snorts out a laugh. 

“Yea, you’re right — tiddies do feel better. And it has indeed been a while since I got to touch one.” He dramatically wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye, a big pout on his lips as he turns to exist the storage. 

“Aww, poor Denki… Wanna cop a feel?” You can see him physically freeze up at these words, turning to give you a bewildered look. “I’m joking! Obviously. You that desperate, pretty boy?” 

You walk past him with a gleeful look on your face. 

The look in Kaminari’s eyes changes as soon as you’re out of sight, and he cannot wait to get his greedy hands on you. In fact, he was going to challenge himself and get between those plush thighs of yours by tonight. 

When the two of you are behind bar again, he continues to orbit close to you, watching videos on your phone over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin when he passes you a milk carton, caging you between his body and the bar while he reaches for something behind you. 

And every time you accidentally touched, you could feel electicity run down your spine and butterflies flutter in your stomach. His light amber eyes trailing down your body lit a fire in your lower belly. The day went on just like that — standing a bit too close to one another, making inappropriate jokes, flirting. And so came time to close and go home, riding in his car. 

“You done with the trash?” you ask as he takes his apron off. 

“Yeah, if you’re done with the floor we can head on out.” You head to the back of house together to grab your stuff from your lockers and lock up. 

“So, got any plans for tonight?” he asks, leaning on his locker while waiting for you to put your jacket on. 

Now that you’re officially off the clock, you take the time to pay attention to small details about the man — how long his eyelashes are, how he cockily half smiles at you, how veiny his forearms are. 

“No plans, no — I’m probably gonna end up watching Desperate Housewives with a glass of wine by myself.” 

And there you go — giving him another opportunity. 

“Oh you watch that too?” He’s excited, presenting this as an interest that not many share with him. “That’s basically my plan for the evening, except I was gonna get high instead of drinking.” Sharing with you that he smokes weed is also tactical; it indicates trust that you won’t misuse that information, and it also opens a gate for you to bond with him over weed if you smoke. 

“Oh, well...” And there you go, taking the bait. “If it’s not too forward of me to offer, I’ve got alcohol and pizza on speed dial, you have weed and good company. Maybe we can merge resources, watch tonight’s episode together?” 

Score.

“Sounds perfect.”

He places his hand at the small of your back as he leads you towards his car, being very caring and gentle — making you feel comfortable and safe, letting you open up to him. It was going to be a fun night for Denki. 

Your apartment is exactly what he envisioned: small but cozy, full of plants, color and art. The small space reflected your personality, a variety of interests on display, different styles clashing in every corner of the room. It was cute. And your chouch seemed very comfortable for eating pussy.

“Cute place.” 

“Thanks. I finally got the chance to decorate my own space however I want, so I went a bit crazy with it.” 

Kaminari doesn’t miss the emphasis in your voice; you lived for a long time with no control over small and insignificant things such as decor. You were frustrated. At the same time, he notes that now you seem to cling to control. He noticed it at work, too — you rarely gave yourself time off. Things are really looking up for the blonde man, and he can barely contain his wolfish smile as the gears in his head turn. You’d love to give up control, wouldn’t you? 

“Make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll grab us some drinks and we can order pizza.” 

As you make way to the small kitchen, Denki takes two pre-rolled joints from a cigarette tin and places them on the table. Wine and weed should make you nice and pliable for him. You return with a glass of white wine and a cold beer. 

“I figured you’s prefer a beer over wine.” You offer with a smile, and he accepts. 

“How observant of you. I just wanna check first:Are you sure you want to mix alcohol and weed? Might hit you hard.” He shows concern, but it’s fake — the more crossfaded you are, the easier it would be for him to get you naked. 

“Yea I’m uh.. More practiced than I care to admit.” You give him a coy smile and sit next to him on the couch, phone in hand ready to order food. Once that is out of the way, you both finally lean back and relax on the couch, the episode of Desperate Housewives starting with a recap. 

“So, do you invite people you just met to your apartment to get stoned often, or..?” He offers jokingly as he lights one of the joints up. 

“No, just the pretty and charming ones.” You’re no longer being coy about it like you were at work; you like him, and you aregoing to make it known. 

“Oh, you think I’m pretty? So you only want me for my face?” He retorts with faux disappointment, eyes focused on yours intently, curious and full of desire. 

“Not just your face. You have pretty hands too.” You answer with a straight face, reaching for his hand that was holding the joint and pulling it towards yourself, taking a drag from the joint between his slender fingers. 

Denki swallows, the lust thick in his throat. The way your lips wrap around the joint is sinister, the eyecontact you maintain while doing it — electrifying. 

His body responds before his brain can process, leaning in towards you to capture the smoke from your lips with his own, inhaling it and placing his free hand at the back of your neck, keeping your lips close to his. 

Honey-colored eyes stare down at you as your cheeks begin to heat, mind and heart racing as your tongue darts to wet your lips and taste him. Screw your plan to just tease him, wind him up for a week or two, make him eager — you don’t have the patience for all that. You set your glass on the coffee table and close the gap between the two of you, pushing him back, straddling him. 

“Feeling bold tonight, sweetness?” He smiles up at you, letting you get your dose of control, let you simmer in the illusion that you initiated this, you took the lead. His free hand rests on your thigh, thumb drawing circles over your jeans, gently squeezing you. 

You don’t dignify him with a response as your lips crash onto his in a searing kiss, fingers carding through his blonde locks. He can tell how needy you are by the way your body moves — pulling his hair a bit harder than you should, nipping at his lower lip, canting your hips over his. You’re leaning into his every touch, almost aggressively taking what you want from him, claiming control. 

He smiles into the kiss and in one swift move shifts you to lay flat on your back on the couch, his larger frame towering over yours. 

“Don’t move.” He sounds almost like a different person as he yanks the control from you, and you obey. You lay still and watch him intently as he lights the joint again, taking a long drag and putting the joint back on the ashtray. 

Leaning down, he places his hand under your chin, parting your lips and blowing the smoke into your mouth. You inhale and hold your breath as he traces kisses down your jaw and collarbone, warm hands sneaking under your shirt. He only speaks after you slowly exhale the smoke.

“You’ve brightened my day, you know. Let me thank you properly.” 

His fingers trail down your body and unbutton your jeans, feather light kisses pressed against your tummy just above the hem of your pants. You don’t protest, so he continues his ministrations, pulling your shirt up above your head and leaving you in your pink lacy bra. He pushes one of the bra straps to the side and—

Ding dong!

The pizza has arrived. 

“Fuck–” He scrambles to his feet to go answer the door while you qucikly throw your shirt back on and head to the kitchen. Denki follows with pizzas in hand that he quickly discards on the table. 

“Are the pizzas cut? Do you need any sauce or—” You’re scooped up in his hands and pressed against the kitchen counter. His lips are on your again, insistent and needy. “Denk— The food?” 

“I was hoping for a different meal.” 

His breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he lifts you up to sit you on the marble counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he makes desire bubble inside you once more. 

Discarding your pesky shirt again, he wastes no time in removing your bra and cupping your breasts, lips enclosing around your pert nipple. 

“You’re right — much better than a bag of caramel sauce.” His words are barely above a whisper as he tweaks your nipple between thumb and index finger, leaving wet kisses across your sternum and stomach. His hands grip at the hem of your still unbuttoned jeans, and you follow his wordless instruction, lifting your hips and letting him slip the jeans off. 

There you were, practically naked on your kitchen counter while he, still fully dressed, devoured you with predatory eyes. Large hands rest on your bare thighs, and he gently spreads your legs and drags you closer to the edge of the countertop.

You’re pretty and soft, and you smell nice. Denki can’t help but wonder if you’ll taste sweet as well. A single digit traces the outline of your lacy thong, marveling at the wet spot forming on the material. Hooking his finger behind the material, he roughly pulls it upwards — the feeling isn’t exactly pleasant, but it doesn't hurt either; it’s simply not enough friction. You need more. Your nose and eyebrows scrunch, and you wrap your hand around his wrist, a pleading whine leaving your parted lips.

“Aw, I’m sorry pretty girl… I won’t tease you too much, promise.” 

Another quick peck to your lips and he sinks to his knees in front of you, eye level with your needy wet cunt. Pushing the pink fabric to the side, he inspects your pretty cunt, glistening with arousal. Kissing from the inside of your thigh and making his way to your core, all you can do is tug on his hair and hold on while he devours you whole. 

Kaminari finally delves his tongue into your heat, leaving a long stripe from your needy hole to your sensitive clit and then focusing on the latter. His tongue is gentle, teasing — like he has all the time in the world to enjoy this tasty treat, working you up until your body starts moving on its own against his tongue. Your head is so far up in the clouds that you probably aren’t even aware of how tightly you’re gripping his hair and how you’re moving your hips rhythmically against his mouth. 

You sound cute: breathless and whiny, softly begging under your breath, head tilted back in pleasure as the muscles in your thighs stiffen and your legs shake. Yet, Denki does not speed up, maintaining his languid pace and dangling true bliss right in front of your eyes. 

“F-fuuck… Denki, please...” 

Your heart is in your throat, and your body aches from the tension, you need release. You can feel the smirk on his lips as you beg him. 

At the peak of your high, delirious from the need to cum but not being given enough friction to tumble over the edge, Denki lifts two long, slender fingers to your wet cunt and slowly pushes them inside you, the feeling of being filled up driving the air out of your lungs. 

Quickly, Denki finds that spongy spot inside you and presses against it, moving his fingers right against it while his lips and tongue focus on your clit. 

It takes seconds for you to ascend, body going rigid as your muscles contract around his fingers and your orgasm is forced out of you with a strangled moan. He does not slow down. 

One strong arm wraps around your thigh, keeping you still while his mouth continues to ravage you, fingers slipping in and out with precision. He was intending to force another orgasm out of you without giving you time to recover from the first. 

Your arms and legs feeltingly and limp, and Denki has to support your weight all while eating you out like a man starved. His cock is painfully hard in his tight jeans, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum one more time on his face. 

You taste like wild honey, and your whiny pleas fuel him to keep going, marveling in the feeling of you becoming tighter and tighter for him, chest heaving erraticly and shaky fingers scratching at his arms and shoulders. You are about to come undone for him. 

Before your mind can respond to your body, the coil in your belly snaps, and you gush onto his fingers with a scream, squirting in his earger mouth as he licks up every clear droplet. He removes his fingers and helps you come down from your high with gentle kisses over your swollen clit and soft thighs. 

Your mind is spinning, but your ears register the sound of a belt unbuckling. Groggily opening your eyes, you are met with the image of him keeping his t-shirt tucked between his teeth as he fists his cock to the sight of you. His pupils are blown — only a thin ring of gold remaining. He closes the gap between you again, his warm length resting on your sticky cunt, slowly gliding between your folds. 

You open your mouth to ask if he has condoms, but he seems to have already read your mind. 

“Don’t have any on me, but I’m clean, and I won’t put it in.” His words are rushed, and he is far too entranced by the feel and sound of wetness to even look you in the eyes. 

You can’t even bother to argue, too tired and blissed out with a new sesnse of hunger growing in the pit of your stomach. Your hips instinctively move to meet his thrusts, the mushroom tip of his cockhead grinding into your sensitive clit, and you just want more. Tired hands reach out to him, thumb rubbing over his cheek as he leans into your touch, kissing your palm with his eyes shut as his hips thrust faster against your sloppy wet cunt. 

“Fuck, gorgeous, you have no idea how bad I wanna be inside ya.” He nips at your hand still resting on his cheek and growls lowly, frustrated by his own imagination of how snug you would feel around his cock. 

Drunk on his words and the previous two orgasms he forced out of you, you want him just as bad. Throwing all logic and reasoning out the window you use the last of your strenght to lift your hips and line him up to your entrance, slamming your hips down and taking his cock all at once with a yelp. 

“P-Please, please…” You mumble in a chant as your velvety walls spasm around his girth, mouth loosly hanging open and a bit of drool trickling down your chin. You were so beautifully fucked out, heavy eyelids giving you the most seductive look. 

Finally overcoming his shock and managing to stifle his impending orgasm, Denki moves his hips and curses under his breath at the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him in. Grinning wolfishly at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, small hands gripping his sleeve for dear life, he angles his hips to thrust his cock right into your sweet spot making you scream his name in pleasure. 

God, if he hadn’t edged himself half to insanity, he’d want to stay buried in your warm cunt for the whole evening, but you felt so good, he knew he wouldn’t last. Hooking his arms under your knees and then linking his finger behind your neck he rams his cock fervently inside you. The angle change of this position made you feel him all the way in your stomach, your clit slapping against his pelvis with each thrust. Snaking a hand between your bodies you circle a finger over your clit to help yourself while he uses you as a fleshlight.

“That’s right sweetness, keep doing that, you need to cum one more time f’me. One more.” 

Folding you even more and slamming you on his cock he could feel your insides trying to push him out as a third orgasm washes over you, more clear liquid splashing against his abdomen as you cry out his name.

Letting you out of the headlock, he pulls out quickly, pumping his fist over his cock as his balls thighten, and he empties his seed all over your wet cunt, smearing his cum over your clit and folds with a relieved sigh.  

Still caging you in with his arms at your sides, he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“You good?” You answer with a weak nod, and he can’t help but chuckle at how exhausted you are reaching over for the kitchen paper. “Sorry, it’s the closest thing I can clean you up with.” 

After catching your breath and no longer being covered in sticky cum, post-nut clarity finally settles in, and you chew on your lower lip, anxiously pondering the consequences of your actions. 

“Don’t freak out, pretty girl.” He’s his usual charming self now, feline eyes crinkling in a smile. “You don’t want anything serious, nor do I, and if word gets out at work we’d be both in trouble. So, how about we keep this between us?” 

Offering you a perfect escape — the final part of his plan. You smile widely glad to know you’re both on the same page, the anxiety dying down. 

“Also, sorry to bust a load and hit the road, but my landlord has left me like 12 messages about some emergency at the flat so I think I should really go check it out, might be a flood.” He awkwardly scratches his neck, showing that he feels bad about this. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Go, I hope it isn’t flooded.” You turn to grab one of the abandoned pizzas on the table. “Why don’t you take this with you? You never got to eat it anyway. Won’t be as good as fresh pizza, but it’s something…” 

He grins widely, accepting the pizza and giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you. I’ll see you at work then, newbie?” 

“See you then.” 

Escorting him to the door you lock it behind him and rest your back to the door taking a deep breath. 

Walking outside of your apartment complex, Denki pulls his phone out of his back pocket and dials a number under the name “Landlord Toshi”. 

“Hey man, thanks for always having my back with the apartment ‘emergencies.’” The blonde laughs into the phone. “Yea, I told you she was gonna be easy — fresh out of a relationship, wants to let loose and make up for lost time, constantly feels like she has to be in control so naturally gives the reins away when it comes to fucking. It was a fun little challenge.” 

“You dog.” The man on the other line chuckles and a bong can be heard in the background. “You gonna tap that again?” 

“Nah, she seems the type to catch feels.” Denki lights up the other joint in his cigarette tin and gets in his car, revving the engine. “Plus, the only reason I did this was to even the bet scores at work while Touya is still on vacation.”

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[jaskwritesthings]

"What's the word I'm looking for that means cleaning tool for dishes?" Jayce asks as soon as the call connects, he's conscious only by the divine right of coffee and anxiety and he's standing in middle of Tesco under too bright fluorescents at three am about to have a sobbing breakdown because his brain can't remember the word he's looking for, so he can ask one of the barely awake night shift where they are without looking like a complete fool.

There's nothing but silence for a beat which he expects when calling Cait at - as Vi would call it - ass o'clock with the most insane question. She's judging him, he can tell.

"Sponge," comes the very not-Cait voice in answer. It's deep, accented, alarmingly familiar in a way his brain can acknowledge but can't put a memory too, and sounds absolutely baffled by the situation.

Between one second and the next he realises that while dialling Cait's number from heart is practically muscle memory at this point, those muscles are exhausted and on strike after two days straight of lab work. He has not dialled his best friend, he has in fact dialled a complete stranger at three am with the most insane question he is now realising he could have just googled.

"I need a nap," Jayce mutters staring into the void of the florescent nightmare space that is the pasta aisle of Tesco.

"Yes, it would appear so," the voice responds, managing to fit so much sarcastic judgment into those accented words. It turns exhaustion into indignant rage so damn quickly Jayce is surprised he doesn't break a law of physics by gluten-free spiral pasta.

"Listen here-"

"I am forced to listen on account of you called me," he interrupts.

"I was trying to call my best friend-"

"Who I am evidently not."

"To ask for help-"

"Identifying one of the most common household objects known to man?"

"I haven't slept in two days! It was a simple mistake! You don't have to be a wanker about it!" Jayce yells and his words echo through the nearly empty supermarket.

"Apologies," he says, and it sounds genuine enough that Jayce's rage flees just as quickly as it arrived.

Jayce tries to run his free hand down his face and nearly knocks himself out with the overstuffed basket, he almost breaks down in tears again, "I'm sorry I yelled, thank you for your help." He says because his mother raised him right, and he's not convinced she won't sense him being impolite as the distance shrinks between them.

"Of course..." There's a quiet uncomfortable clearing of the throat across the tinny line, "Though may I offer some advice? The old stereotype of an overworked student is not something to aspire to, care is more ideal," his stranger offers gently.

"Do you take your own advice?" Jayce asks teasingly, he did pick up a strange call at three am after all.

The chuckle that fills his ear holds an all too familiar exhaustion, but it is warm, "Not as often as I should."

"My mum's visiting tomorrow...today?" Jayce says, not quite ready to say goodbye to the sarcastic man keeping him from bawling in a Tesco that has probably seen its fair share of student breakdowns over the years.

"Ah...and you do not have the basics that all adults should have," the voice fills in, clearly putting two and two together and coming up with numbers that don't vibrate like Jayce is currently seeing. He's pretty sure the pound sign should not be attempting mitosis right now, he's definitely had too much coffee or tea...he vaguely recalls switching to Monster at some point and that was probably the red flag he should have paid attention too.

"Not to her standards," Jayce mutters because he doesn't understand what the difference is between olive oil and vegetable oil, they're both oil? He'd said that to his mother once and she'd looked at him like he was trying to declare a war in their family kitchen.

"I do not know the difference either...perhaps it would be wise to take her out for dinner? As a treat," the man says and Jayce realises he said all of that out loud.

"Probably a good idea," Jayce grumbles, wondering if he spent all his money only lab equipment or if he has enough to take his mother to a decent restaurant.

"I shall leave you to your shopping," the man says and Jayce is struck with the urge to keep him, cling to this warm voice in the middle of Tesco for life. That could be the exhaustion speaking but Cait is always saying he needs to socialise more.

"What's your name?"

"It's Viktor."

"I'm Jayce."

"I know, get some rest Jayce," Viktor chuckles as he hangs up before Jayce can ask for a last name or a beacon lit in the middle of town to unite them once more. Jayce looks at the dark screen of his phone in his hand for longer than he should and wonders if he hallucinated the call.

He leaves Tesco without the sponges and heavy heart.

It's not until a measly five-hour nap later and going through his phone contacts that he realises he dialled the engineering department's teaching assistant on automatic after staring at the man's contact details for the better part of a two day back and forth email argument over his maths.

He's still not sure if he wants to marry Viktor for his beautiful equations or strangle him with the school mandated cravat. Maybe he can convince the man to show up at his rented lab space for tea.

[buttered-milky]

https://youtu.be/XqXZ0tJppok?si=kF5httv3agxyOzqe

Messmer can actually turns into a snake it's his original form, and he looks soo abused and neglected maybe because of the seal?

Eeeee okay so. The summon he uses a: appears to have more blood and/or burn wounds on it. and b: otherwise has most of its scales and doesn’t have the transparency effect I thought it had like the winged serpents!! Also there’s a bunch of eyeballs all over the place but we’ll get to those later.

Burn wounds are pretty straightforward and also interesting since they imply either the serpent fucked around and found out (Messmer burned it) or the serpent fucked around and found out (burned itself like an idiot, not surprising in the slightest for snakes since they miss prey strikes all the time and are, in my humble snake owner opinion, some of the dumbest creatures you’ll ever meet. Curious yes. But also. Idiots)

The snake Messmer turns into has much deeper wounds and scarring on it than just the summon of the abyssal serpent. This snake also appears to have a blind right eye (note for any reptile keepers who care: not the temporary blindness that comes with shedding). Its body is very misshapen and there are scales trying to protrude along the spine, and in several places where there don’t appear to be any wounds the scales are just…missing. This is as expected not good for snakes! They need those scales! I am honestly not quite sure how to interpret the overlapping layers of scales in some places. Like sometimes it looks like a shedding issue but also it seems like it’s the attempts of two souls trying to occupy one body? Also missing shed transparency effect! Idk what the hell was going on in my brain or if it was just lighting but I was sooooo fucking sure of the shed buildup. I was also really tired though and don’t care. The visual read was still fun. It can be a headcanon to me <3

So on those thoughts of it being two souls trying to occupy one body. What strikes me about this design is that some of the wounds look like bite scarring you’d see from live prey fighting your snake back. Again, this is a thing entirely avoidable with good husbandry (don’t live feed unless absolutely necessary). The scales to me still imply shedding has gone very wrong at some point. You’d expect to see shedding heal and scar over these wounds, but they’re all fresh. Very symbolic. You can’t heal violence by just pretending it doesn’t exist.

Ideally when a snake is wounded, you do routine care to help them with sheds and make sure the wound is clean. The scales will grow back and the wound will scar, but it will take several sheds and consistent work! You cannot, as Marika tried to do, just put a bandaid on it. You also can’t just lock a snake in a cage it will hurt itself trying to get out of (ie messmer himself) and expect that to go even remotely well.

Some of this feels like visual symbolism of self-hatred. Like I said, the base serpent looks like it’s gotten in a fight. With its host. Some of it also feels like visible neglect (ie the wounds not being healed, missing scales)

I’m gonna discuss the eyeballs bc I fuck w them immensely. First of all congrats Messmer on having an Eldritch Horror in ur body. Second of all, all these eyes appear to have lids. Actual snakes don’t. They have hard eye caps instead and cannot blink. Some of the eyes seem like they might not be able to blink, but the scales around them are still more closed than you’d expect? I fuck with it. Fits with Messmer’s blindness motif which maybe I’ll make a post on eventually. But in regards to the base serpent specifically, of course violence can afford to close its eyes and be blind to who it chooses to hurt. Violence is also something that, when committed, always seems to haunt you. Its gaze will always be there.

It’s interesting that Marika replaced Messmer’s eye to seal the serpent off, and so maybe it grew more eyes? That could be why the scales around them aren’t correct—they’re trying to protrude from the body. This occurs in both the summon and the physical snake form Messmer has. Repression of identity = Eldritch horrors? Sure I’ll take that fromsoft.

Final thing on the eyes. They’re red, not green. The winged serpents have green eyes, Elden Ring’s color of endurance. Super fitting! The abyssal serpent’s eyes are all red, the color of rot and death in this game. Red to me also feels primordial given its use in lightning by the dragons, but I digress. It’s pretty obvious why a base serpent would have base powers. This thing is old as fuck.

Okay. I’m sure you all thought the post was done but one last note on snake biology! So, snakes’ tongues retract into their mouth. When a snake opens their mouth you won’t see a forked tongue just curled up, hanging out. It’s in a little pocket for safe keeping :)

Neither of the base serpent’s forms appear to have the anatomy for this, since there are eyeballs replacing this anatomy. This is problematic for Messmer in a snake form specifically since he’s blind, and real snakes compensate for shitty vision by having an incredibly strong sense of smell. Messmer’s snake form also doesn’t have the heat pits that the abyssal serpent has. Heat pits are another part of snake anatomy, usually located below the nostrils, and are what they use to “see” heat and locate prey. In pythons (like the winged serpents) you’ll see multiple heat pits all in a row above the lip as opposed to the single very deep pit behind and below the nostrils in vipers. This single pit is what the base serpent (summon) has. Neither Messmer’s base serpent form nor his winged serpents have heat pits which is…interesting. It could be a modeling error but I don’t think so given base serpent has very clear heat pits.

My point is, Messmer is somehow even more blind than you’d expect from a snake. Maybe this makes sense given Messmer carries an internal fire, which would likely fuck with infrared? Still interesting nonetheless.

In summary: The base serpent alone (summon) seems overall in better shape than its other form (transformation). I think this is pretty straightforward symbolism—as a being on its own the serpent would probably be fine. It’s just that it uses Messmer as a host and this causes issues. Fuck around and find out I guess, base serpent.

And holy shit Messmer Cannot fucking see. Good luck with the seeing eye snakes babe because snakes notoriously have shit vision !

(Also just an aside both of the base serpent forms kind of have narrower faces than you’d see on a real snake? Like they’re more eel like to me. Anyways.)

[happyandticklish]

Sore Loser

Notes: Commission for @ultimatelee19 Thank you so much for commissioning! It’s been a while since I’ve spent any time in the Legend of Korra fandom, so it was fun to get to revisit it for this piece. I hope you enjoy ^^

Summary: After several losses in the Pro-Bending Arena, Bolin is anxious to prove his worth amongst their group. Meanwhile, Korra shows him the hard way that sometimes it’s okay to lose.

“You know you’re gonna lose, right?”

The field was clear save the two of them. They had snuck out hours before Mako had even had a chance to wake up for their usual training, and the hint of pink in the sky was the only indicator that it was morning at all. There was something nice about being out this early, the only creatures awake as the rest of the world slumbered. It was a peaceful feeling. Korra, however, was never very good at accustoming herself to times of peace.

Perhaps this is why she had been so easily persuaded by Bolin to come and spar before their next competition in the Pro-Bending Arena, even if she felt a bit uneasy about it. He hadn’t said anything, but she could tell he was nervous about their upcoming competition. Their last few fights hadn’t gone very well for them, but he especially had been off his game. Nothing to worry about, really, but it could be if he got in his head about it. Most likely, this was just an excuse to get a win under his belt in order to ease his nerves. Not that he would ever admit it—hence the attitude.

Korra raised an eyebrow at him, adjusting her stance. “Is that so? Well then, I look forward to my swift defeat, since you’re so cocky. It’s a risky move, going up against the Avatar alone.”

Bolin scoffed, but his fists clenched by his sides. “Please. ‘The Avatar’. You’re also reckless and undisciplined.”

“Undisciplined? As opposed to you?”

“Obviously.” A grin made its way to his features and she relaxed a little at the easy banter. “I’ve worked myself to the bone for years on training.”

“So have I.”

“In general, maybe,” he conceded. “A typical jack of all trades, whereas I am a master of earthbending. Which is why for tonight, I challenge you, oh great Avatar—a battle, earthbending style! If you use any other elements, you’re disqualified.”

Korra considered the proposition for a moment. An easy handicap, even still. She knew it might be better for Bolin’s ego if she lost, but Korra had never historically been a great loser. If he wanted a challenge, he was going to get one.

She smirked, trying not to enjoy how her words made the cocky expression on Bolin’s face waver. “Alright. You’re on. Just try not to be too disappointed when you lose.”

“I could say the same to you.” The ground under them rumbled, and Korra yelped as she just barely jumped back in time to avoid a cluster of rocks that had nearly toppled her from underneath. “Careful.”

Korra laughed, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “Oh, you’re in for it now.”

With that, the battle was on. For a while, Korra tried to play the long game and keep her attacks careful and coordinated, opting more for defense than anything else. Bolin, on the other hand, lashed out with a determination that was only serving to make him sloppy. His lunges were too quick, his strikes too sudden, and his words were tinged with frustration as he attempted to keep up the same arrogant banter as before. Heneeded to just relax if he was going to get a hit in, let alone win.

Bolin ducked forward suddenly with a fist that was evaded as she grabbed onto his arm. He struggled against her fruitlessly for a moment and her eyes widened with an idea as a smirk slowly took over her features.

Bingo.

“You know, maybe it’s time to get a bit more up close and personal,” she said, gripping his arm and using his own weight to flip him down to the ground. He grunted as his back hit the earth and she threw a leg over him in his distraction, one of his arms still captured in hers. “Take a more offensive stance, perhaps?”

“What are you talking about—gah! K-Korra!”

Bolin’s words were cut off by a strangled yelp as Korra’s fingers skittered over his stomach, poking and prodding occasionally to great effect. Bolin’s face, already red from exhaustion, pinkened as his features scrunched up in defiance. Tickling. Perhaps cheating in an official fight, but for now it came with the side benefit of always working to relax Bolin. After all, if she could knock him out of his weird mood and win the fight all in one, where was the harm there?

Bolin was squirming underneath her, giggling up a storm as she managed to slip a hand under his shirt to get at bare skin. “N-Naha knock it off! This is cheheheating!”

“I fail to remember you ever specifically banning tickling as an option.” Korra vibrated her hands into his ribs and Bolin shrieked, lurching out of her grip suddenly and scrambling to get away. She clucked her tongue, dusting off her hands as she stood up. “Bad move, my friend. I’m afraid you’re still wide open.”

She ran after him, throwing herself at his back in an unskilled but effective attack. The momentum carried them both forward, and they tumbled to the ground in a clumsy roll. Before Bolin could gather his bearings, she pulled her fist up, forming a rock foundation around him that effectively covered and pinned him to the ground. The rock formed makeshift stocks for his feet, and his hands were encased in stone raised far above his head. Bolin struggled fruitlessly against the bonds, but with his hands trapped, there was no way out. Korra strolled over, stretching her arms above her head before taking a seat by his feet.

“You have been awfully strung out all week now. I think it’s a high time that you take a moment to sit back and actually relax. And—” she held his toes back, scribbling her fingers over his bare arch. “If you’re not gonna do that on your own, then I’ll take it on myself to help you out.”

Bolin threw his head back in wild laughter, his other foot dancing around wildly in the stead of his trapped one. “W-Wait Korrahaha! I’m fine, j-just—shit, n-not tihihickling!”

“Yes tickling,” she said, digging her fingers under his toes to a torrent of frantic giggles. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing to yourself all week.”

“What—not the other fohohohoot!!”

“You lose a couple of fights and get all in your head about it,” Korra continued, ignoring his protests. Her fingers spidered over his arches, pausing occasionally to scritch under his toes in a manner that she knew from experience made him go crazy. “That’s not the Bolin I know. No, the Bolin I know would use those losses as encouragement to do better—to train, not whatever pity party this is.”

The corners of Bolin’s mouth made an attempt to turn down in indignation, but the tickling was quickly sapping all of the venom and frustration out of him. He shrieked when she moved up to his thighs suddenly. His clothing got in the way a tad, but she was able to pinch up and down the area in a manner that seemed just as effective, if not more so, than if his skin had been bare. “And challenging me to dumb fights at some crazy hour of the morning before a competition is not ‘training’. You need rest. You need diligence. You need to stop beating yourself up about this.”

Bolin shook his head back and forth, his legs jerking against the stone. Out of curiosity, she tried scribbling her fingers over his inner thighs and the sound he let out at that seemed to indicate that the strategy was worth continuing. “It tihihickles though!”

“Mm, and I know how much you hate tickling.” Korra raised a brow and Bolin’s cheeks flushed red. It wasn’t something that he advertised, per se, but it wasn’t hard for anyone who witnessed these moments to tell that he was enjoying himself. “Listen, man, we’ve all had bad days. You think I got where I am by winning every fight I’m in or always nailing new skills first try? You think Mako did? You practice. You study. And you don’t let one defeat get in your head.”

He shrieked when she moved her hands up under his arms suddenly, tugging desperately at his hands. “Okahahay okahahay I get it! Just p-please gihive me a breheheak!”

Korra considered it for a moment, continuing to trace idle circles under his arms as she did, much to Bolin’s chagrin. “Okay, I’ll consider it. Considering…”

Bolin whimpered underneath her, his face scrunched up in an intense expression of concentration. As his skin was still protected by his clothing, the tickling wasn’t as intense as it could be. She glanced down, however, to notice that his shirt had ridden up in the tussle, revealing a sliver of his stomach—historically, his worst spot. Perhaps it was time to really show Bolin exactly what happens to teammates who underestimate themselves.

She placed her hands on his stomach, sliding them slowly under his shirt as she did. She bit back a grin when Bolin visibly jumped. “Here’s the deal. We have about a half hour till Mako wakes up and starts to wonder where we are. Either you admit that you’re a good fighter and that it’s okay to make mistakes, or I tickle your stomach until he finds us—your choice.”

With that, she descended into a frenzy of scribbling and poking fingers all over his stomach that left Bolin a wheezing mess under her. He arched his body back against his bonds, but there was no escaping rock. He probably could have used his bending to get out, but bending required a certain focus that tickling left no room for.

In the end, Bolin held out for another five or ten minutes until Korra discovered that his naval was a hotspot of nerves that broke down his pride in a matter of seconds. And while Bolin complained and muttered indignantly while he caught his breath when she finally set him loose, the happy flush to his cheeks revealed the truth of how much he had needed to be able to let go.

Next time, Korra just hoped he asked instead of making her endure the horror of being awake at four in the morning.

[littlebluentebook]

Alastor x Sewing!Reader

Hi everyone! This is my first ever fic but I have read far more than anyone should in a lifetime! Please let me know if theres any criticism. Im open to other ideas and fandoms (that I will eventually make a list for.) I'm merging some chapters I have just because they're short or make better sense that way and tried tot keep things gender neutral. If I slipped let me know and I will go back and edit! This is probably super out of character but I did my best! Hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1 <3

You and your husband had always gotten along like a house on fire.

Every other week a client would come in asking for costumes and repairs for a speakeasy she sung and danced at.

"-just say Anne invited you love n' they'll be bound ta let you in!" she exclaimed while picking up her newest order for the night ahead.

"Well darling I'll just have to see if I've got any sort of plans." You said knowing full well you were going to come up with new patterns until eventually falling asleep.

"Come on Y/N, Ive been coming to you for months! Don't you want to see where all your heard work goes to?" Anne was definitely pulling your strings taking advantage of your curiosity. She had a point.

"I suppose you've gotta point Anne. What time are you starting tonight?"

"Nine!" She was bouncing up and down in excitement. " I've got to get going now doll! See you tonight!"

The jingle of the bells on the door signified she was gone. You started to realize what you agreed to and panicking.

"Oh my goodness gracious!" you stressed out loud, "what even am I going to wear! Im going to look ridiculous- I don't know a single soul there! What if I make a fool of myself?!"

Your thoughts battles for longer than you would like them to eventually grabbing a paper riddled with measurements no longer needed and started writing pros and cons of visiting Anne.

Pros: Cons:

Meeting new people! Showing up alone

Can make friends Looking like a buffoon!

New possible clients

Deducting that embarrassment is temporary, your cons list could easily be eradicated by breaking out of your shell and talking to others. Plus, Anne would be there and she was your friend... kinda? You considered her a friend but was unsure if she felt the same way. Well, she did invite you to visit her tonight, at the very least she will introduce you to her friends! There shouldn't be a worry.

With your mind finally set you heard the clock strikes four. Ashamed of how long you let your thoughts get the better of you, you got back to work. The task was to complete a keepsake blanket from a wedding. You created the dress for the newlywed, sitting for hours with her finding the perfect materials and creating patterns and designs for her. In the family, it was a tradition to create a quilt from the dress of the bride using the grooms suit as a border. All the pieces were cut and you could not wait to sew them together and create a stunning memento.

Chapter 2 <3

you knocked on a door two streets over from your shop. A short lady opened the door raising an eyebrow.

"And who might you be?"

"Im Annes... friend," you tried. "She comes to me for her outfits and graciously offered me the opportunity to come a view her performance tonight."

The lady's gaze hardened, staring at you intensely.

"It looks like I have got the wrong place then, I am so sorry to waste your time," you stammered taking a step back away from the door.

"Oh Mimzy! You mustn't be giving anyone trying to see me a hard time now!" Anne's bubbly voice spoke from behind the short lady who must be Mimzy. "Y/N is a good friend of mine! Works far too hard for me and deserves a break, plenty of time to relax!"

Mimzy bursted into a smile and reached for a hug. "of course! Welcome! Sorry for being all prude- just had to makee sure you weren't anyone coming tottery and ruin what I've got going for me here" she drawled.

"No ma'am of course not! Im just here to watch my friends performance then I'll be outta your hair, away from your 'do," you explained to Mimzy while she dragged you from the door to the bar.

"Nonsense my dear! Please have a drink and stay awhile!" you sat at the bar with Mimzy talking about how difficult it was to be a female business owner. No one takes you lot seriously!

The lights dimming and shinning on stage caught the room's attention effectively hushing all conversation. Anne sauntered to the center of the stage, dress shimmering. You recognized it as the most recent dress that you crafted for Anne. It was stunning on her.

"My oh my! Look at the handiwork that went into making that dress. Must of taken days!" a familiar voice chipped. You were unable to put a name to the voice but luckily Mimzy did it for you.

"Alastor," Goodness! The radio broadcaster! You had always loved his voice, you would have his station playing while sewing- waiting patiently for songs to end just to hear him speak. "Our dear friend Y/N made that specifically for our lovely Anne!" Mimzy exclaimed.

She admired your work while Anne sung and waltzed around the stage. You were incredibly proud of your work. Every detail of that dress took so much time and effort and turned out beautifully. The fringe was all hand cut, the lace took countless hours of stitching for the perfect design and finally the beads. Each bead had to be placed individually in the right spot on the dress to shimmer. It was a fine dress indeed.

"Y/N, how would you like to make dresses and suits for the rest of those who preform for me?" As soon as the song ended Mimzy had dropped the question, ensuring she wouldn't tale any attention away from Anne.

"Oh my! Why I would be honored and ecstatic to! Thank you so much for the opportunity Mimzy!" You were so excited! Sure the flapper dresses were hard work and time consuming, but now, seeing how they looked on a stage, in front of an audience, made you realize you didn't mind all the time and effort it took into making them.

Mimzy left her seat in an excited hurry to go get paperwork for you.

"You know," the broadcaster- Alastor leaned over Mimzy's now empty seat, "she goes on and on about how beautiful Annes dresses on stage are." The comment caused you to blush but he continued, grabbing your hand gently. "I must agree with her, although the lady behind the creation of this wonderful attire is much more beautiful than what she creates."

With that Alastor kissed the back of your hand with his lips. You were speechless.

Mimzy came back with paperwork and Alastor smiled at you. The three of you spent hours conversing, telling both jokes and stories.

"Oh my!" You glanced at the nearest clock- almost one in the morning. "I have got to get going! I have to open the shop in the morning."

"Do you ever take days off darling?" Alastor asked softly.

"Only Sundays. No one is out on Sundays!"

"Goodness! -at least let me walk you home. You know its not safe for a lovely person such as yourself to be out alone this late."

"Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you at all Alastor."

"Of course I'm sure dear, its not an inconvenience if its you." The words were rolling off his tongue and you blushed so hard it could have matched his vest.

"Your performance was amazing Anne! You are so talented, I have definitely been missing out, I am going to come back to watch you! " Enthusiasm and pride towards your friend took over. You wanted to let her know what you thought before you suddenly ran off.

"Thank you for coming out tonight for me. Sure was nice seeing a friend in the crowd!" A jittery wave of happiness washed through you at her last statement.

"Im so glad to hear you enjoyed yourself!" Mimzy gushed to you giving a farewell hug. "Blessed to know you'll be coming back doll."

"Of course! You have an amazing place Mimzy. This is a pleasant change of scenery compared to what I'm used to!"

With your goodbyes concluded you walked out the door arm in arm with Alastor.

[epickiya722]

Rereading some chapters and this may be a hot take, but chapter 185 actually made Hawks lose more points with me. Honestly, I really wasn't impressed the first time all that much, but rereading his speech about "the heroes being all tamed about keeping peace when this should be a turning point since we have no symbol" and all that jazz... yeah... still not that too impressed.

Yes, bias here because I am a Miruko fan. And I don't really mind Hawks' personality all too much, I don't hate him or anything.

But that moment made him look lame to me? Is that the word I want to use? Anyways...

In fact, him commenting how the other Heroes ranked below him are being more "tamed" actually made no sense when Miruko was the one hero who straight up was like ready for the smoke.

Did he not hear her or he just blocks out what everyone was saying?

Actually, her second bit of dialogue alone is why immediately I went "Yeah, I'm gonna like her" because she was like "hey, villains, I'm going to kick your ass".

But Hawks makes this "I'm so disappointed in you" like a parent ass face.

She wasn't trying to be soft. She didn't say anything about keeping the peace. She was announcing she was ready for all the smoke.

"Why is everyone playing it so safe?"

Not her! Miruko is the type to not care about her image and it's backwards for Hawks to be that person to even talk about image when he's a Pro Hero who himself has a very popular image.

It kinds of sucks a little that when Hawks decides to speak up, Miruko praises him for being ballsy when just moments ago he acted like she (as he did with the others) said something wrong when she deadass was in asskicking mode and was grinning after.

Before anyone comes at me about "Well, Hawks this" and "Hawks that" to his defense or whatever, I understand him.

I saw his backstory, I get he grew up with the Commission on his back. I get that in truth, despite all the fame and whatnot that comes with being a Pro Hero, he really just wanted to have more freedom and truly is a good person. Again, I don't hate Hawks.

But there are times, such as him acting all disappointed about "tamed Heroes" even towards Miruko who is by far the last person you want to call a "tamed Hero", which Hawks kind of... I guess contradicts himself. While sometimes a character contradicting themselves can be interesting... this is the one time I would say it eas tasteless. And just as in-universe, I feel Hawks is given more grace because he is attractive.

"Miruko is attractive, too!" She is, but when a woman is sexy she doesn't get the same leeway as when a man who is also sexy. Especially, if she is brown skinned. If she embraces her womanhood and sex appeal, she gets attacked. Or that is the only thing people care about, but that's for another day.

Again, a lot of what of what I'm saying does come from Miruko being my favorite, but even if she wasn't I still would feel this same way.

He talks about the Heroes should focus on their approval ratings, but imagine being in Miruko's shoes hearing that. Of course, she wouldn't and doesn't give a damn about image, but take in considering of who she is.

She has two strikes against her being a brown skinned person and a woman. Three strikes if you count her having a Rabbit quirk and while I know some of you went "Well, what's wrong with that" keep in mind that while rabbits are cute that aren't taken all that serious.

She no doubt has had people mock her for one, two or all three of those traits of hers.

I feel like, putting on my "Theorist Kiya" hat on here, Miruko doesn't care about maintaining her image like that and doing whatever she wants is because she knows that unlike most Heroes, including Hawks, she would have to work extra hard to get public approval.

Why try to work for public approval when you're doing your job to protect people, which is more important, and people are going to expect more of you and judge you even more than others who have is just a bit easier than you?

[flightfoot]

Hello! By any chance, do you have any outsider pov ml fics to rec? As in, fics focusing on a side character being like "damn these guys are acting WEIRD and i'm mildly worried about that." Or maybe identity reveal fics where the reveal is for someone who isn't marinette or adrien?

Hmmm... let me see what I've got...

Also I'm a little confused about you asking for "the reveal is for someone who isn't marinette or adrien?" Do you mean for it to be TO someone who isn't Marinette or Adrien, or are you actually asking for someone who isn't Marinette or Adrien to reveal their identity? I'm tossing Hawkmoth in there as well, because if I included Hawkmoth reveal fics, there'd be way too many. (..okay so I might have included a Hawkmoth Reveal as well, the Markov Alliance is too good to pass up)

Anyway, I'll see what I can come up with!

So after looking through, I have a lot that fit at least some of the criteria, including a lot of older fics. I hope you enjoy! I've got 22 fics for you to peruse, all completed.

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Shellter Chat by Bridgetinerabbit

A peek inside Adrien's school bag gives Nino some very unexpected insight as to what makes his good friend tick, but leaves him in a very delicate position. He never expected to strike a deal with the Kwami of Destruction, but now he and Plagg are working together to relieve some of Adrien's (and Chat Noir's) burdens for his own good. But being Adrien's guardian angel isn't as easy as it seems; other secret identities start falling apart, and there's no telling where the falling dominoes will stop.

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Just Act Normal by hazel562

After a body-swap akuma sees the return of Lady Noire and Mister Bug, Alya can't work out why Adrien, and particularly Marinette, are behaving so strangely…

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Chasing a Dream by @generalluxun

Things don't quite go Felix's way at the end of S4, leading to a second attempt of the 'First Love' Tour. Lila plans to use the tour to wheedle her way into Gabriel's confidences and secure Adrien's hand. Marinette overhears Lila's plan. Marinette reacts in a calm and rational manner. Who am I kidding? She stokes Chloé's bruised ego to enlist her help to chase after the tour, in the hopes of foiling Lila's plans. Akumas spring up along their path, texts with Adrien grow more deep, Cat Noir appears where he should not be, and through it all Marinette is forced to interact with a girl who has been a huge part of her life in all the worst ways up until now. What truths can be discovered though, halfway around the world and away from prying eyes?

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A Small but Stubborn Fire by @cardiac-agreste

What if you were the parent of a teenage superhero, but didn't know they were? All you know is the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the bruises. She's missing school, she's disappearing on you, and she's not telling you anything. So you assume the worst: Assault. Depression. A permanent rift in the family. And what do you do when you realize you weren't thinking dark enough? Because your fourteen-year old daughter is the hero who flirts with death on the nightly news. -- Come inside and read about one mother's struggles to raise her daughter in a dangerous world while avoiding the mistakes her own mother made with her.

This is a more serious take on the consequences of Hawk Moth's war on Paris, with actual bloody, painful deaths as a consequence of many akumas, and Parisians developing PTSD because of what they've gone through. Ladybug can fix all the physical scars, but not the mental ones, including her own.

I love the focus on Sabine here. She's not just presented as being a mom - though of course that IS an important role she has. But she's explored as a character in her own right, one with a lot of emotional baggage as a result of her abusive mother, and trying to not fall into her mistakes, but sometimes doing so anyway out of fear for Marinette's safety. She's a really fleshed out, humanly flawed character, sometimes admitting that she would do something selfish if it means protecting the people she cares most about, like her daughter, even if its at others expense. She grows and changes a lot throughout the course of the story, her perspective on many matters changing multiple times as a result of getting new information or seeing the consequences of her previous approaches, and adjusting as a result.

If you want a fic that more realistically explores the dark consequences of Miraculous's setting, that fleshes out Sabine, or just develops a character in a complex way, then I highly recommend you check "A Small but Stubborn Fire" out!

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theory bored by @14muffinz

You’re not supposed to theorise about who your partner is, Tikki had scolded, glaring at Luka as he continued to map out his entire theory, abbreviating as many miraculous-related names as he could feasibly remember. To be fair, it’s a lot, so it’s not like this would be much if anyone were to get their hands on it. He’d sighed, capped his marker, and turned around as though he was going to clean up the board. And then, because Tikki unfortunately taught him just how stubborn he could get if he really wanted to, he calls for his transformation while facing the other way. [OR: Ladybug Luka, Black Cat Juleka, and a reveal.]

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You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess by @mexicancat-girl

With Team Miraculous now full-time holders, Ladybug has them patrolling in pairs like her and Chat Noir. New partners Pigella and Purple Tigress get along phenomenally, their easy banter and similar wavelengths making working with each other a joy in and out of combat. But sometimes Tigress is surprised just how close she is with her partner. Sometimes she tries not to feel too guilty thinking about it.

There’s some nice Julerose here! I love them kinda getting into a lovesquare with each other, though it’s not as much of a problem as it is in canon since it’s reciprocal in every relationship and they’re both down for a poly. It’s fun, and I love the “Luka attempting to woo some of his love interests” plot going on in the background XD.

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the funniest coincidence of them all by shireith

“I wore it just for you,” Adrien told Alya. “So you don’t have any trouble telling me apart from Chat Noir.” “You’re so annoying right now you might just have convinced me you’re Chat Noir.” “I am Chat Noir.” “And I’m Rena Rouge.” What the hell was happening and why did it look so familiar? ---

Or, in which Marinette, Adrien and Alya share several brain cells, problem is they’re all Alya’s.

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Alya Cesaire Should Be Allowed To Swear by stripesandblossoms

Akuma attacks don't stop just because Alya is no longer a Hero, but that's fine, because she can still help clear civilians from the danger zone. Even celebrity-friends like Adrien Agreste.

Hey guys this is an amazing one-shot, even with as short as it is. I love how it goes into Alya’s thoughts and feelings about why she doesn’t swear (because you can’t do that on-air as a journalist and she has little sisters that she can’t swear around anyway) and her coming up with ways to suppress her swears when she’s tempted.

Then of course, she finds out a secret that makes all of that go out the window…

Seriously this is really funny, please read it!

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You Don't Have to Pretend with Me by @kasienda

Nino didn’t not like Chat Noir. He thought the dude was cool and hilarious. His sense of humor reminded him of Adrien. Things hadn’t always been tense between them. When they fought back to back during Heroes’ Day it had felt like they were brothers. But it was clear to him that Chat Noir wasn’t his biggest fan. The other hero was always welcoming and kind to Rena Rouge when she joined the team, but he had always been somewhat aloof with Carapace. And Chat Noir had been especially different around him after Rocketear. but it wasn’t like Chat Noir knew that Nino and Carapace were the same person, so why had he started avoiding Carapace? … Adrien couldn’t figure out why things between Adrien and Nino had always been so easy when things between Chat Noir and Carapace felt so hard. Like, he knew he was different as Chat, but he was far less different as Adrien with Nino than anyone else. Or he had been before… Rocketear. And now? Now, he had no idea how he was supposed to act. Had no idea what Nino wanted from Chat Noir, but it was very clear he wasn’t measuring up.

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The Markov Alliance by CrochetJellybean

Slight spoilers for season 5! Markov was excited to use Max's class time to learn more about the AI system within the Alliance rings. In his exploration, he accidentally discovers a chat room of 14 non-humans connected to the Alliance network, so he decides to join it.

This was hilarious and fun and heartwarming. Markov accidentally stumbling across the kwamis and them hinting as best they could about what to do and who to tell about them (as best they could without spewing out bubbles) was great, along with the Miracuclass’s reaction to finding out about them.

Also their groupchat name is “plagg is oblivious” due to Plagg not figuring out that Nooroo was in the same house as him all this time, which is just perfect XD. I’ve reread this fic several times, it’s so good and bite-sized!

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The Investigation by @11jj11

Adrien and Marinette are finally dating-- which is what Alya has always wanted... but yet this sudden transformation in their relationship overnight? Things aren't adding up. They are suddenly so much closer than they ever have been before, Adrien is apparently a flirt, Marinette is no longer a stuttering mess, and not to mention the nicknames that came out of no where. Alya is happy for her friends, but she knows there's something more going on, and the reporter in her is going to get to the bottom of it.

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I Know, You Know by @mirrankei

They weren't technically a couple, but Alya knew one day they would be. Ladybug loved Chat Noir, but they had a job to do, and relationships could be dangerous. Alya could accept that. She knew in her heart that on the day the five of them (eight, ten, twelve of them) defeated Hawkmoth once and for all, Chat Noir would take Ladybug in his arms - no, wait, Ladybug would take Chat Noir in her arms - and finally share that romantic kiss all of Paris was waiting for. They would tell each other who they are and fall in love all over again, safe in their victory. Then it turned out Ladybug was Marinette, so that went out the window. Because Marinette only had eyes for Adrien, and Alya was way more invested in that ship than any superhero stuff.  --- for prompt "Lovesquare"

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caline bustier and the heroes' awful mental health by lollyposp

Caline liked to think she was a good teacher - she’d adapted well to the systems put in place by the akuma attacks, she’d adapted to the various incidents within her classroom, and learned the best way to seat her students, in order to minimise the risk of arguments within the classroom that could potentially draw Papillon to her room once again. Sometimes, though, she felt powerless to help her students. OR: in which madame bustier tries to help her students, but she's missing a key part of the puzzle (hint: it's their identities)

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Everything I Need by @coffeebanana

When Ladybug asks Pigella to care for her injured teammate, she wants to refuse. She's not the best person for the job, and she's not sure if Purple Tigress even likes her. But Ladybug insists, so Pigella fights through her fear and tends to Tigress' injury. It doesn't make things any easier that Tigress keeps reminding her of Juleka.

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Walking That Mile by @nomolosk

Nino and Alya wake up in the wrong bodies. Several things result from this, including, but not limited to, identity reveals and a better understanding of what their respective best friends are going through.

Never knew I needed Nino!Plagg and Alya!Tikki in my life, but there you go XD. It’s not all fun and games though, this is a Hawkmoth Takedown fic as well, and dealing with the effects of that.

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Off the Mark by @buggachat

Ever since Nino's (frankly embarrassing) akumatization into Rocketear, Chat Noir's behavior had taken a strange and sudden turn in the presence of Carapace, and Nino could only think of one possible explanation: Chat Noir hated him. Somehow, Adrien didn't seem to agree.

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Markov Knows All by @11jj11

Markov has a few questions.

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Shipping Status: In Transit by @katieykat513

Shipping wars, they get the best of us, don't they? Even these four friends....

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Aspik Hate Club by MyImaginationFlows

Ladybug just cannot get over how horrible Aspik looked like with the snake miraculous. Frustrated by unmet expectations, she decides to rant to Chat Noir about it. Suddenly, he’s being accused of being a terrorist and is strapped to a chair surrounded by Carapace, Ladybug, and Rena Rouge. How did a conversation about himself end up with him being put on trial for being Hawkmoth?

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A Reveal of Necessity by alexanderxbetsey

Alya walks in on Chat kissing Marinette

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Strategic Missteps by Platonic_Ideals

Sabine wanted to plan a spa trip for her daughter, but it ended with her hiding from an akuma with her daughter's crush. Now Sabine has the responsibility of supporting Adrien's alter ego while managing her fear for his future.

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questions she knows by finleyblue

Carapace laughs uneasily. This is bad. “Sorry, I’ve really got to skip.” He jabs a finger behind him, making no move to leave. Alya folds her arms and raises one eyebrow. “Nino. I am not that dumb.” _____ Alya interviews Carapace for the Ladyblog, and Nino panics.

[conductoriya]

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i write only SFW currently, at most suggestive content. comments, reblogs, and asks allegedly motivate me to write more and will be highly appreciated! requests, please do not send me a whole essay, only 3 to 5 sentences is fine! some things i won't write: scat, noncon, kidnapping, piss play, vore, vomit, step-cest/incest, and more will be added as necessary. i reserve the right to refuse any kind of requests for any reason, please do not take it personally.

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[hanasnx]

profighter!anakin

WARNINGS: sfw | no established relationship | reader has a date/situationship | maybe a little ooc for the sake of the au but i tried my very best to maintain characterization | reader is mentioned to wear a dress and black heels and has shaven legs | blood mention | your date has he/him pronouns | anakin pressures you a bit | this fighting league has almost no rules | action and boxing violence.

You and your situationship were supposed to have date night tonight, and you were excited for something romantic. Instead, your date enthusiastically shows you the tickets he won to a pro fighting match that’s supposed to be "the match of the season." You are uninterested, doesn’t matter if it’s front row seats.

Nevertheless, you try to be a good sport about it, and decide to go because you don’t want your night to be totally ruined. It's just not a sport that’s ever hooked you.

Your company for the night can't believe their stroke of good luck, exclaiming how you can "smell the sweat from here" as if that'll somehow appeal to you. Unexpectedly, what does appeal to you is the fighter that comes in announced. Youngest in the league, hotshot ANAKIN SKYWALKER from the dunes of Tattooine is introduced and he’s cute. Cuter than you thought these guys would be. You’d think from the hits to the face these guys take, Anakin would look like a sandbag but instead he’s gorgeous. You don’t dwell on it really, you barely watch the match while your date screams next to you at fouls and ref calls. It's a while of you staring at the stringy black heels you wear. The crowd stirs, and Anakin gets kicked out of the ring, landing right at your feet.

You're startled, and before you lean forward to help, he picks himself up by his fists on the floor. The expanse of his muscled back widens with each heave, and a mix of drool and blood spatter the ground underneath his head. He inclines his head up, hazy eyes trail up your smooth crossed legs in a black dress, so close you can feel his hot pant against your skin, and you freeze as he meets your gaze. He grins- a dopey, toothy grin. Cheeky as if he wasn’t just thrown out of the ring. The scar along his temple has reopened, blood trickling his face.

Hastily, the staff picks him up off the floor but he keeps looking at you. Lulling, intoxicated from adrenaline and brain-fog; he winks at you. Your date notices and even though you dismiss it your heart is fluttering. Your date is considerably less enthused for his favorite boxer Anakin Skywalker.

When the next round starts, Anakin will not stop looking at you. You’re embarrassed about it—looking anywhere but him—but he’s determined to nab your attention.

Lazily, he dodges his opponents strikes. Your eyes widen. What once didn’t interest you, interests you greatly, gesturing to him to focus on his opponent but he scoffs in response to your external expression of worry for him.

A glance to his contender, and it's clear he's running out of steam. He's an older gentleman, and Anakin is too swift for him. The rounds have dragged on long enough, it's time to finish it. Yet, Anakin takes the opportunity to single you out. That unwavering eye contact breaks as he motions to himself, following his hand with his gaze. As if to say, "You like what you see? Am I doin' alright?" Now painfully unaware of the company you keep, you chuckle about it and shake your head at him.

He tilts his head. A playful countenance about him before he's rudely awakened by a lunge from his opponent who's caught his breath. Anakin blocks a fatal blow to the neck, and jabs his padded knuckles into the nose, knocking him back. It's well placed because red blood pours from the orifice and Anakin shoves him back to give himself some wiggle room. His finger points to you, another signal to ensure you're paying him mind, and to convey who his next move is for. The circumstance distracts the enemy, and Anakin seizes it. The flat of young Skywalker's foot smacks against his temple. The fluid from his nose spatters against the mat as he tumbles to the ground cold. Showcasing his arrogance, Anakin doesn't bother waiting for the ref to count, and leans against the rope on your side. Deft fingers brush through his jaw-length sweaty curls. In the lighting you can see how the salt sprays into the air from the act.

He completely disregards your date, and you've forgotten all about him as well. "What are you doing after this?" There's no charm to his words, no handsome smile, a question that could've just as easily been interpreted professionally. Yet a potential co-worker wouldn't have implied he'd knocked a guy out for your affection.

Somehow, you feel comfortable with him already. "Going home." you answer honestly. There's no way you'd be persuaded to go to your situationship's place after this.

Anakin bows his head to eye you down through his brows, a curl to his lips. "No, you're not." Definitive phrase that causes a defiance to flare up in your chest. It dulls as that crystalline gaze drinks in your form once more. "Looking like that?"

You open your mouth to interject, the need to continue entertaining him driving your thoughts, but you're cut off by your own warning. "Behind you!"

Just in time, thanks to you, Anakin pivots on his heel. His newly rejuvenated opponent giving it all he's got in one, good punch. A yelp emits from you before you even realize you cared that much, rising from your seat to watch Anakin's back collide with the mat, skidding across it. He rolls out of the way when his enemy stomps onto the space he occupied mere seconds ago. As close as you can get, you take it, and before you know it you're shouting with the rest of the crowd, cheering Anakin on to overcome it.

He's able to land on his feet, but he stays evading. Infuriating side-steps that rouse you like nothing else.

"Hit him!" you call, and Anakin regards you with a furtive glance. As if he was waiting to hear your voice.

He lets the guy back him up to the ropes, dodging his jabs quicker than you thought possible. Since you're near to him now, he shouts over his shoulder, "When I finish the match, you'll come with me to the after-party. Deal?"

Your date's had enough, grabbing hold of your shoulder, finally reminding you of his presence.

Anakin takes your silence and puts his enemy into a hold. "Deal?" he reiterates, more urgently this time. He won't let you dwell on it too long and he doesn't want your date getting in the way of what you choose.

The audience exclaims its disapproval for Anakin stalling, and the pressure of it gets to you knowing you're the reason for the hindrance. You push your date's hand off. "Deal!" The reply coming off more desperate than you meant it to.

Not another second passes before Anakin throws his enemy off, and pitches a right cross so mean it should be illegal. Using his own momentum against him, there's no question as to why his body drops to the ground like dead weight. Your ears go deaf from the sound of the crowd, covering them to protect them from the pain while your date excuses himself out and you watch Anakin's back heave in violent pants, letting the referee raise his thick and swollen arm to the sky in victory.