#loser life x reader

[magicbratt]

can someone make “loser life”/ “life completely ruined” content💋

[whatt-the]

Okay but imagine Stanford rubbing one out to the thought of you

Like. He'd be so embarrassed. Don't even try to question me on that. His face would be all flushed red and burning hot when he finally lets his urges take him over. I can just see that guy sitting at his paper crammed desk all alone ignoring (or at least attempting to ignore) how lightheaded he's getting from all of the blood not going to his brain, and yet still trying to be productive; I can see how ford would be pressing his thighs toguether subconsciously just to get himself any sort of relief from the pressure-- though, it won't go away.

But you know what else doesn't go away?

His thoughts about you. God they are wretched. The occasional daydreaming about being near you turned to daydreaming about touching, holding, kissing you- which turned to what he has to deal with now. Obsessive, maladaptive and consistant thoughts about maybe: maybe getting to have you the way he craves oh so desperately

So he reasons: 'He deserves a break, he's worked to the point of exhaustion, he should get to have some pleasure'. It's what he wants to hear, more specifically what he wants to hear from you; and fuck if his brain didn't do a damn good job at imitating your voice when those words crossed his mind. Unsurprisingly, the thoughts just get increasingly more targeted at the cureent situation. How would you react to seeing him like this? Would it be disgust? Anger? He'd understand those reactions, he did feel incredibly sinful while doing these acts, so it is only fair that his rational and logic loving brain would find those to be the answers you'd give..

That's what he pretends to believe in at first, of course. He can't help but be delusional about you- delusional about receiving your praises. Oh how his eyes snap shut when the idea that you'd be amused by his current position; that you'd encourage him to keep going. He can feel himself shiver at the view in his mind-- had his limbs always felt this weak?

And this is the scenario he finds himself facing on... most nights. It is pathetic how much he wants you, it's written all over him: in his lovestruck eyes, in his shaky hands, in the sketches of you scrawled all throughout his notes, in the sleepless nights where his body denies him peace- and equally reflected in the nights where his only dreams are of you and him.

Haha anyway have a sketch of this idea featuring college ford, will do a current ford version if encouraged

This man is unhinged and I'm tired of pretending he's not

You, blissfuly unaware that you're the cause of his lack of sleep: "ford? Are you okay? You look really tired today"

Ford, unable to look you in the eye because of sheer embarrassment: "yes, yes. You know how intensive my research gets... haha.."

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd is the kind of loser boyfriend who would think that a guy who blasts a boombox or play a guitar while singing a love song outside their s/o's bedroom window is the cringiest, cliche thing ever, BUT, if he hears you say, even as a joke, that that is something that you want to happen, be sure to expect him standing outside your window with his electric guitar (that he canonically plays) singing to Taylor Swift or something

[ilovepapahet]

James Hetfield HeadCanons

The photo in the middle has me (s)creaming and I’m going to be honest I think his vocals were peak on the Load album

anyway here’s 1996/Load

————————————————————————

SFW

God he’s such a big softy I don’t know why I just feel like he is he’s a big grumpy cat that needs attention at all times

he loves it when you sit on his lap while he plays his guitar and he’ll ask you if it sounds good or if he needs to change anything

if your sick in bed he’ll cuddle you and make you soup and get you all the snacks you love he really wants to make you feel better when you sick

he loves and I mean LOVES it when you scratch his back especially when he rest his head on your chest or your thighs and you gently and slowly rake your nails down his back

he practically purrs when you do asking you to keep going and it puts him to sleep

his top priority is making you feel safe and happy and he’ll do anything in his power to do so

he also gets super excited when he shows you a song they made in the studio waiting for your reaction to see if you like the song

he loves your hands don’t know why he just does

He will sit on the edge of your shared bed for hours while you try on clothes asking him if they look good to which he replies with “You look beautiful in everything”

NSFW

he loves edging you and seeing you beg to cum he’ll bring you so close to cumming before just stopping right before you cum

and he loves to eat pussy he loves it to just lay down on the bed and lap at your wet folds it brings him so much joy that sometimes he can’t help himself but to grind into the sheets below him

he’ll finger fuck you impossibly fast you can’t even comprehend it your so lost in pleasure and it becomes so overwhelming you’d end up squirting all over his hand and arm

than he’ll praise you for doing such a good job

I feel like he likes slow and passionate sex more than rough and meaningless sex not that he won’t fuck your brains out he just likes is slow

he wants to take his time with you and really feel how good your walls feel wrapped around him

he’s kiss you and tell you how much he loves as he slowly yet deeply thrusts into you

the aftercare is insane he’s so loving and so caring he’s getting you water or he’s caring you to the bathtub and will clean you off washing your hair and than will cuddle the fuck out of you, you literally don’t even know how you ended up with him but your glad you did

————————————————————————

guys I’m about to bust the fattest nut for him

[aperiraa]

My homegirl edited these 4 meee love her sm and pinterest

This ain't even close to the freakiest shit I've done, wrote or read but ion know if it's too freaky for yall or not freaky enough so lmk

Lo'ak blinks lazily, un-spilled tears and smoke clouding his vision. He wipes his hand over his face, wiping off the beading sweat as he tries to stay sane. Lo'ak looks down at her, his eyes low and bloodshot as she takes all of him, her soft, plump lips wrapped around the base of his dick "f-fuckk babyy" he locks his hand in her tight curls, pulling it all back from her face. She bobs her head on his thick shaft, spit running down her chin. The two find it hard to focus on anything but feelings as the smoke clouds their minds and the room. Lo'ak's legs twitch and he shudders as his orgasm grows closer, his chest twitches and he throws his head back, tears finally spilling as he cums. His orgasm crashes down on him like the waves were eating him alive "m-mamaa I can'tt- ts' so fuckin good mama" he babbles, the weed and the dopamine swirling and wrapping around his brain. She pulls off, smiling at him sweetly before leaning back down and kissing the tip, spitting his nut back onto his dick. He whimpers at the sensation of her lips on the head of his cock and the unexpected warmth of his own seed running down his member. She licks up his cum at the base of his cock, running her tongue up his shaft, cleaning up their mess. His dick is soaked in spit as it slaps his stomach once she pulls of the tip once more, she sits in his lap and grabs his face by his cheeks "say aahh" he opens his mouth eagerly for his lady. She leans down, her soft hands still gripping his cheeks lightly and spit his nut in his mouth "swallow for me" Lo'ak swallows and pulls her closer "mmm mamas"

[m1d-45]

room 11-13

summary: albedo is weird. no, not just weird- disgustingly strange.

word count: ~2.5k

-> warnings: implied stalking [him -> you] ; he is a weird creep!! brief + non described mentioned nudity (of reader, within a drawing)

-> gn reader (you/yours) in a modern au !

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

your roommate was… interesting, to say the least. not that you really had many expectations—unlike apparently everyone else, you didn’t come to university with a plethora of friends packed in your bag. you had no names to list on your housing contract, no familiar faces to look forward to when you came home, just you, a handful of cardboard boxes and a lingering sense that you’d forgotten something.

there was nothing you could pin about him. nothing in specific, no one catalyst you could point to. sure, you don’t see him often, but that isn’t inherently a bad thing. there’s nothing wrong with not going out much, there’s nothing wrong with being a quiet person when you’re living with a stranger. the common room is clean, the sink is (relatively) empty, and none of your things in the fridge have been eaten. he really, by all standards, should be a perfectly fine roommate, but…

albedo was a quiet man. you first met him when you moved in, delicately pouring exact amounts of water into a small tins over the sink without a single sound or stray droplet. he looked up, you exchanged names, and that was that. the rest of your day was spent unpacking in your room, barely hearing the click of his door closing.

you never quite asked what he was doing that first day, but you could put two and two together. he had a habit of leaving pencils or erasers or other supplies on the coffee table, and you often ran into him when he came out of his room to fetch them. you’re not quite sure how you never see him in the living room when you never told him your schedule, but… well, whatever. it didn’t take a genius to know that the guy with charcoal smears across his hands was an artist. and, if you’d somehow missed those, you sometimes ran into half-used palette in the fridge, beads of paint in a myriad of colors sealed neatly in plastic containers, changing every time you checked.

you weren’t sure why they were always there, as you’d definitely seen one when he was in the dorm, but… well, it’s not really your business, is it? maybe he’s busy, maybe he doesn’t want to paint, maybe he’s taking a nap, who cares. you grab what you need and go back to your room; there’s more important things to worry about than a stranger’s hobbies. honestly, you shouldn’t spend so much time thinking about him. you could hardly claim to know someone you never saw.

well, except when you did see him.

you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as you came back from your chemistry lab, not minding the usual palette of paint beside it. also as usual, you heard his door open as he remembered some random item, not minding the sound of his footsteps as you receded into your own room-

“wait! ah- please…”

you forgotten what his voice sounded like. it’s mostly out of shock, not recognition, that you turn around, seeing him lingering in the entrance to his half of the dorm. his hair is loose around his shoulders, catching the light from the window and glowing gold. his apron is stained with a rainbow of paint, matching the perpetual lines across his hands, and he seems a bit too nervous to be talking with someone he’s been living with for a few months now.

“…i couldn’t make it to the lab today,” he starts, words measured and not at all like his original call, practiced instead of panicked. “could i borrow your notes?”

…you’re in the same chemistry class? you’d never noticed. then again, you’re not sure you could pick him out of a crowd—it’s not like you two were exactly close… but giving him your data was honestly a non-issue. normally you wouldn’t think twice about it, except if he was in your lab section then he should know the rules about missing them.

“you’re going to have to retake the lab anyway, aren’t you? my report won’t help you at all.”

he blinks, like he’d forgotten that fact, and you half hope that’ll be the end of it. you still have your own work to get to, after all.

“still… it would give me something to reference, so when i do it i’ll know if my results are reasonable.” his brows are drawn, genuinely worried, crystal blue carrying a surprising amount of emotion despite the careful cadence of his words. “i’d greatly appreciate your assistance on this matter… i don’t have a reliable way to contact anyone else in the class.”

it only takes you a few moments to weigh the pros and cons. at worst, your partner can back you up if he tries to steal your work. at best, nothing happens and you’ve earned a bit of goodwill.

you shrug, taking off your bag and setting it on the counter, unzipping the main pocket and digging for your lab manual. you find it and flip to today’s lab, mentally wondering what an artist would think of the irritated scribbles down the side of the page. whatever the case, you hold it out toward the hallway he was before, only to find him barely a foot away. he’s stood over your shoulder, letting your manual bump into his chest without a flinch, without an ounce of the worry from before.

without an ounce of anything at all, really. his face is flat, empty, just staring down at the words in front of him without seeming to read them at all.

“…sorry,” you start, “i didn’t hear you-”

“don’t be sorry.” with a blink, he’s back, taking the manual with a gentle smile. “thank you for your help. i’ll return it by tonight.”

“…yeah, take your time.”

you’re not going to question what or why whatever happened did. it’s.. just easier if you don’t. you grab your bag and go to your room, focused on anything else.

you don’t find it in the common area, on the coffee table or by the sink or in any reasonable area. he doesn’t knock on your door to return it. no, instead, you trip over it the next day as you leave your room, squinting in the dark to see it laying on the carpet, a note taped to the front.

yeah, you’re not reading that. not now, at least. you’re certain albedo is a nice guy, if socially awkward, but… you can give him the benefit of the doubt later. you shove the note in a drawer and forget about it, going to class. if you just ignore it, you won’t have to deal with it.

it must not have been anything important, because he doesn’t ever bring it up again. it’s almost as if nothing happened. there’s a new pencil on the common room whenever you walk by, he ducks his head and smiles sheepishly when grabbing it, and nothing is new. you try to look for him in the lab, if only to be courteous, but never find him. it’s not a big class… but whatever, you’re not too familiar with his face anyway. after a week or two, you stop trying.

it’s wishful thinking, really.

you have to do a double take when opening the fridge one day, the paint on the palette looking, from the corner of your eye, like a human hand. it’s just skin-toned paints, delicately mixed into a color that somewhat looks like yours.. by the looks of it, he must have fussed with the tint for a while. normally there’s only small bubbles of paint, but this is excessively fine refinement.. he must just be a perfectionist.

you can’t leave your room without running into him. not just like before, with brief intersections as he grabs what he’s forgotten, but actual interactions. he sits on the couch, drawing in a small notebook, asking you about your classes like he’s not supposed to be in his own classes. sure, he could be taking some online, but it’s like he never leaves the dorm.

he asks as usual, one day, what class you’re going to. when you finally gather your courage and ask why he himself isn’t going to the lab, he startles, like he’d forgotten he was attending. there were plenty of reasons why he wasn’t going—maybe he was in a different section of the class, or he had a car and had reduced travel time, or quite literally anything other than silence. but he sat there, staring at you like you were the one who had mixed up your schedule, with the same painfully empty look as before.

you left soon after that.

if asked to describe albedo in three words or less, you’d fumble for a few moments before landing on “fine, but weird.” if asked to do so with any other level of detail, you’d probably end up saying the exact same thing.

and that’s fine. you didn’t really expect to become best friends with your roommate. but for archons’ sake, he’s just so… uncanny.

you’ve never seen any other food in the fridge but yours. you cannot remember ever seeing or hearing him leave or enter the dorm, or ever remember not seeing some sign of him being there. his door was perpetually closed, the faint sound of scratching coming from behind it, and he’d just… freeze at random. like he recedes into himself, leaving a hollow husk until he returns, eyes left as flat disks set into an unfeeling face. there’s nothing inherently wrong with not showing many expressions, but whatever he’s got going on is far more concerning than that.

so really, who could blame you for being curious? his sketchbook is just there, laying open on the table, only partially masked by the small bag of supplies next to it. the door to the bathroom is closed, you really shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this, but it’s not like he even bothered to close it.

still, it’s wrong.

still, having something solid to point to could really help if you ever need to make a complaint to an RA.

oh archons, this is such a bad idea.

before you can convince yourself not to, you walk over and sit in his usual place on the couch, picking up his sketchbook and gritting your teeth through the fact that there’s no way this is morally justified.

the current spread is plain. it’s entirely in pencil, repeated iterations of different kinds of jewelry. rings, with ornate spirals and diamonds along the sides, leading into a gem of many different cuts. some simple stud earrings, some hoops, a necklace draped around a half-drawn bust, the chain sketched to look like blooming flowers strung together. there’s some notes in another script, but other than that, it’s entirely normal. there’s nothing weird about a guy that draws bracelets in his spare time. but your mind itches to find a justification, searching for proof, and you’re already in too deep. despite your better judgement, you turn the page, doing your best not to drop it when you do.

it’s you.

you, at least six times on two pages alone. smiling, waving, fixing your hair, by the seven you feel faintly sick, fingers digging into the pages as you try to rationalize what you’re seeing.

it could just be a one off. maybe you have a particularly interesting face to draw? except the next page is the same, and so is the next, and you flip through them all with the edge of your thumb and it’s all you.

all of it. every single page that has ink on it has your face. from the very front to the very back, with only a page or two of white left, and it’s clear that the jewelry was an intentional decoy. there’s a spread dedicated to just your hands, one to various outfits he’s seen you in, one- archons, one in various stages of undress, barely granting you the dignity of keeping them from the waist up. the worst part, really, is how accurate they are, clear proof of just how much time he’s spent staring at you.

you recognize his voice now, quiet and measured as he calls your name. that could just be your heart in your ears, though.

he has that same blank expression again, standing in the doorway, looking between you and the book. you’re certain he can see the paled fingertips of your grip on the cover. “do… do you not like them?”

“…what?”

he settles back into himself, sad, shoulders slumping and eyes downturned. “they’re just practices, i promise. the actual painting looks much better…”

bile threatens the back of your throat. “the painting?”

“yes, the painting. the one i mentioned in my note…”

…the note. his note. the one you didn’t read. the one he gave you after a grand total of one significant interactions, before which you all but considered him a ghost. and he decided that making a painting of you was a normal thing to do?

“…it makes sense you forgot it. i can’t imagine i’ve ever come close to properly capturing your beauty… it doesn't matter the medium, i never seem to get it right...”

he crosses his arms, picking idly at his lips with one hand, like he’s discussing a particularly annoying problem on his homework and not the fact that he has drawings of you topless. after a few moments of mumbling, he shakes his head. “i’ll do better. i promise i will. one day i'll draw something that finds even a fraction of your perfection.”

you don’t care. all you want is to get out of here, to lock your doors and try not to call the cops while he’s in earshot. “it’s fine, albedo”

the lie is a poison that seems to sting him upon arrival, a ripple of shock crossing his impassive expression. “it's not fine, not at all. how can i call myself an artist if i fail to impress my muse? please, give me time, i promise i can do better-”

“it’s fine,” you repeat, setting the sketchbook down and realizing with another stab of disgust that he’s written your name on the front cover. you stand, hands buzzing with the echo of what you’ve witnessed, not caring for the crestfallen look on his face. “…you’re a talented artist,” you grit out.

and you’re going to be sick.

[rikosseen]

Jincheol Park x Reader: Injured

Anon ask

“JINCHEOL PARKKK,” your voice booms.

Everything inside Jinchoel’s room instantaneously becomes silent, and Manager Kim, Nam, and Hansu Seong all put their heads down. They quietly walk toward the door and stand beside it, waiting to escape. You burst in, and storm toward the hulky, wounded man on the hospital bed. Jincheol’s so-called ‘friends’ quickly depart. TRAITORS.

“DON’T LEAVE ME-” before he can finish, the door is slam shut, and his ear is being twisted.

“What on Earth were you thinking?!” you screech.

The man winces, and grins at you, showcasing his perfect teeth.

“Don’t do that!” This time, his hair is pulled, and Jincheol is sure he’ll walk out of the hospital bald.

“Remember who’s the one lying on the hospital bed!” he tries to interject your torture.

You glower at him, but eventually let go, sitting on the armchair beside him. Silence settles between you two, and Jincheol is worried that if he says something first, you might skin him instead of just inflicting permanent baldness. So for now, he just glances at you. You feel his staring, and after ignoring him for some time (two minutes), you reluctantly face the man, eyebrows still furrowed. Jincheol brightens up, scanning your face.

His smile falters a bit when you don’t meet his eyes.

“Worried for me?” he tries to joke, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

You take in a deep breath and scowl. He chuckles at you, but instantly regrets it when a sharp pain shoots through his body. Jincheol grunts, and you quickly try to position him on his back so he can rest. The man looks at you tenderly, and catches the worry in your features; lips pressed in a thin line, eyes blinking a little faster than usual, and eyebrows drawn together. Maybe he was a tad bit too reckless on his little operation. He was away for how long? Two- three weeks? Oh. That’s a lot. That’s a whole expedition.

“I’m sorry,” Jincheol breathes out, still maintaining his smile.

It’s solemn. Guilty, even. So you hold his bandaged hands and plant a kiss on his lips to acknowledge his apology. At least he’s back here, with you, safe and sound. How can you stay mad at him for trying to do good in this world?

[yuri018]

Can someone please write anything about that two.

[silvery-orchid]

The funniest dynamic in my mind belongs to Dottore with a darling who absolutely hates doctors but he didn't manage to get you yet.

He tries to manipulate you by giving you expert medical advice? Saying he knows best? You throw an apple at him. Of course. But then you taunt him saying hes not a real doctor anyways but you keep apples and apple flavored things everywhere.

And when the tsaritsa actually requires you to go on like checkups?? You demand 5 other people to be in the room that you trust and dottore has to take the anesthesia swab they use for kids at the dentist just to check your teeth. And then he has to give you bandaids with flowers and cats on them after drawing your blood.

And he gives you a lolipop but you throw it against the wall and leave. And he is just like,,, furrowed eyebrows but admiration sighs and longing and everyone else is just like ??!??¿

[astralnymphh]

thinking about the succubus!reader x loser!ellie idea i vaguely schemed about in december.. let me re-add that to my stockpile of upcoming ideas.. something about sub!ellie being a total loser when it comes to sex demons.. hrmnn.. midnight shenanigans in her college dorm.. hhhmnnn... drop ideas in my inbox or you want me burned at the stake... huurhhmmm..

[scrambledslut]

if you’re into murder mystery/crime shows i highly recommend watching Broadchurch, not only bc david tennant is hotter than a motherfucker in it and i would sell my soul just to have him yell at me BUT the acting and story is genuinely so good and interesting, the plot twists are fucking insane i was literally left speechless when i finished season 1, don’t think i’ve ever gasped that much watching a crime show

[keenvictory]

i need you to know that seeing loser and baxter in the same sentence almost made me pass out amen

Baxter is one of the saddest, wettest, silliest little losers I have ever seen and I love him all the more for it.

short NSFW drabble under cut <3!

I truly deeply believe he would be the neediest loser in the bedroom too, all that elegant composure melting away underneath your warm hands. It's a game almost, to see how unashamedly desperate for your touch you can make him.

Teasing him until he makes the most undignified noises, whining pathetically for you, his hips bucking into your hand as you pump his poor, tender cock.

And he just can't keep his mouth shut either, rambling about how good it feels, how gorgeous you are, how much he wants you, how much he loves you in between pants and breathy moans.

But there are much better uses for his pretty mouth and he is eager to serve. His orgasm is all the sweeter for having earned it. But even when he's wholly focus on pleasing you with his lips and tongue, he can't stop himself from moaning against you, one of his hands straying to stroke himself.

He's selfish in that way. Needy little thing.

[lychee-drinks]

NSFW Headcanons for the Dad Trio of the PTJverse

Minors DNI

Warnings obviously for NSFW

Jincheol Park

Jincheol’s got the highest sex drive out of the three.

Man’s is STRONG and he’s the biggest one out of the three. So if you and him do it, you are gonna be sore for DAYS.

But Jincheol tries to be careful and will apologize.

Jincheol’s definitely experienced. He’s hooked up a ton in his youth during his days as a rock fan.

Jincheol’s favorite positions include doggy, missionary, cowgirl and other positions where he feels he has the most control.

Jincheol is really good at fingering. I mean really good. It’s good enough that sometimes you don’t even need his dick in you, all you need are his fingers and you’re a shaking mess.

Jincheol would definitely unintentionally bruise you. He doesn’t mean to and when he sees them he panics. But you assure him that it’s fine and you that you still had fun.

Senior Manager Kim

Out of all the dads, he’s got the lowest sex drive.

Manager Kim likes to be fast, but since he’s getting older it’s harder for him to do so.

His favorite positions are missionary, face off and cowgirl. He likes to be able to face you while having sex because there’ll be a better connection that way.

I’d say Manager Kim’s the least experienced. After Minji’s mom died, he probably hooked up like once, but he was way more focused on raising Minji and didn’t want to distract himself with anything else.

Manager Kim is best at oral and loves to eat you out.

He’s very heavy on consent. So are the other two, but not to the extent Manager Kim is. He gets worried if he’s being too rough or if you’re really okay with what the two of you are doing.

He’s also the type to join you in the shower after sex and enjoy intimate time with you.

Hansu Seong

His sex drive is pretty low too, but it’s definitely higher than Manager Kim’s.

Out of the three, he’s definitely the most passionate and prefers to go slower paced.

But behind all that passion, he talks very dirty.

Whispering in your ear telling you all the ways he’ll make you feel.

Hansu tries to be pretty careful. Even though he’s old, he’s still very strong and could have the strength to leave you pretty sore.

Hansu’s very big on foreplay and aftercare. He’s keeping you in his arms, talking and cuddling with you after sex.

He’s the middle ground between Jincheol and Manager Kim when it comes to experience. He most definitely got people’s attention in his youth as an Olympic star. After he got divorced to his wife (I’m pretty sure that’s canon), he slept around a little here and there.

[yuri018]

Why no one writer about manager kim men

They are so handsome…

Please someone agree with me

[yuwuta]

i politely demand you talk about your nge/pacrim au!

thank you for enabling my behavior and for all your art omg <33333 i will attempt to coherently and briefly outline my thoughts

the short version is: yuuta/rika saves you post-battle and both are irrationally upset when it turns out that you already have a boyfriend. 

yuuta would like to take some of the credit for digging you out the rubble, but the truth is, it was like his mech was on auto-pilot, overriding all of his controls to dig you out of a lifeless environment and stash your cold, limp body in the center chamber until yuuta and rika were transported back to the base. 

yuuta doesn’t understand why he lost control of rika like that, nor does he understand why he feels so upset when he goes to visit you in the infirmary and there’s already some other man by your bedside holding your hand. he vaguely recognizes kokichi as a junior engineer who’s done a few surface level repairs on rika, and he’s surprised and green with envy to find out that kokichi is also your boyfriend. 

yuuta doesn’t understand the anger he feels, or the headache he gets, or the panic attack that’s threatening to rise in him, or why his feet automatically drag him back to his mech, or why he feels like he could hear rika’s faint sobs and screams in his head and he lay in his pilot chamber. none of it makes sense and he can barely sleep because of it, but it happens every time he thinks about you and kokichi for too long; and strangely enough, if the thinks about how rika seemed to come to life to save you for too long. there’s some kind of missing link he can’t piece together. 

when you’re conscious, you can’t seem to recall any part your childhood, and only have your memories from college onwards, save for bits and pieces of the attack you were a victim of. yuuta learns that you were studying to be an engineer, that you were moving to work at the hangar and be closer to your boyfriend, that kokichi was slated to pick you up from the airport that ended up being the site of attack. a small part of yuuta wishes kokichi had been there, thinks that rika wouldn’t have found him in the rubble. 

you’re the miracle save, and somewhat become the baby of the hangar. world-renowned pilots you’d only ever studied in class stopped by to give you their condolences, offer their help. you try to remain calm when satoru gojo and kento nanami make an appearance as a duo in your tiny recovery room, calling you brave and bowing to you with a home cooked meal in hand. senior engineers do their best to recover your work from college, assuring you that your injuries and recovery period would be a non-factor in the hiring process—that you were free to start as soon as you felt comfortable. you get the most attention from yuuta, who makes himself a friend, and a critical part of your recovery, essentially firing your physical therapist in favor of fixing you himself. 

everyone makes you feel welcome, but yuuta makes you feel safe. he holds your waist while you re-learn to walk, he sneaks you into the pilot’s lounge while the jaegers have their repairs done—and nods in faux-sympathy as you mourn the presence of your boyfriend, who seems busier than ever these days with nuisance repairs, jokes about how yuuji and megumi seem to be particularly reckless with their jaeger lately—he squeezes your hand when you have headaches and fractured flashbacks of your past that you can’t piece together, he holds you when you cry out of pure frustration of not being able to remember who you are

yuuta’s a real smooth talker, too. always knows exactly how to comfort you while your boyfriend is busy, always talks to the press about you so preciously, always makes you feel like you have a purpose even if you can’t remember your past self—maybe you weren’t meant to remember anything before him and rika, maybe it was meant to be this way. it’s a twisted comfort, but it’s something to cling to, it’s better than crying over memories you no longer have.

everyone notices yuuta’s weird reverse stockholm syndrome lol… the way he hovers over you like he’s your sole protector and savior, the way he demands to be privy to all decisions about your health care, the way he remains close to you with no fear of your boyfriend. nobody says anything, though—yuuta’s a pilot, a good one, and one the few solo pilots in the entire world. he’s precious and vital to humanity, worth a thousand men, worth ten thousand engineers. besides, his friends see something special between you two, especially the co-pilot pairs; satoru and kento, megumi and yuuji, choso and yuki—they know compatibility when they see it, and boyfriend or not, you have something special with yuuta. they all share a common thought: kokichi is fighting a losing battle. and even if he could beat yuuta, he’d never win against rika.

[lhes-variant]

I'm tagging these homicidal maniacs-

Lookism;

@ Kwak Jihan, Han Gyeol Back?, Jake Kim?!, Yujin, Mary Kim, Ryuhei, Goo, Kouji??, Jace??, Dg, Kenta, Sato Kazuma.

How to fight;

@ Taehoon, Jinho, Haesu, Eunwoo, Jiksae??, Moonsung.

Manager Kim;

@ Manager Kim, Gaeul's Dad,

My life as a loser;

@ Ancheol, Sangmin.