#they'd get him outta there immediately.

[spotlightstudios]

Finally doodling my hyperfixations again! This time, it's DogDay! He's super goofy and silly and deserved a lot better, and I'm joining the crew of people who want to carry him away on their back (ft. Light, my Persona!)

[there-will-be-a-way]

My ex roommate threatens to call the cops on me.

Last Thursday I told him to leave my apartment and take all his belongings with him. He ended up leaving - but left most of his stuff at my place, including important documents 😒 Then told me he needs to get them. Didn't reply to his message because I have his number blocked. Now he texted me he's gonna call the cops on me if I don't hand out his stuff. I'm still in the psych ward though 🤷🏻‍♂️

Some of the other patients who are Experienced When It Comes To Police Stuff™️ let me know there's nothing the cops can do, especially since I'm still here. I'm not doing anything illegal. So imma keep ignoring him until I get discharged so that he gets real angry in the meantime and lives in misery

[dnangelic]

' mm ? isn't that a celebrity style ? ' and wasn't this his very own impish opportunity ? he flashes sakura a similar heart all the same ; sets his fingers in a readied , practiced instant and charmingly winks , her better mirror . even if he ended up getting nothing else out of this incident , at least there would have been this --- a mutual exchange that sakura herself no doubt didn't even realize , and probably wouldn't until it was too late .

' it's only recently that sort of thing started getting popular , but making one out of both your hands goes much older than that , no ? if you're enthusiastic enough , you can even make one out of both your arms and your head . ' he simpers ; laughs lightly in a way that his voice seems to soften by it . ' there are all sorts of ways to show people love . '

( some larger , some smaller , some more shy , and some far more grander . )

' ... but , well , as for me being weird --- '

the door's finally shut behind sakura and he slips into silence . if he's bearing any sort of expression , then it stays hidden by lack of view --- yet it doesn't take long for his voice to lilt , the playful , chipper tilt of his head just as audible as sakura's thorough sarcasm .

' --- you've only just started thinking that ? '

most people began with the wings . and then , left with nothing but grim mystery and their own imaginations , they continued to spin up absurd rumor and distort him more and more , too often making something only remotely manlike into something truly grotesque . his reputation as a thief mingled with deeper suspicion and various horror stories : little by little , his consumption of hearts turned literal and bloody , and he became both the rotten idol and worshiped bogeyman that parents warned might deceive and turn stray good family's children , if not outright steal them away . his devilish attraction only seemed to be all for the worse , a touchless source of strife , envy , and endless fascination and wonder .

likewise , amidst the storm of this infinite chatter and chaos perpetually surrounding him ; the black-pupil stages of hundreds of thousands of eyes , there wasn't anywhere that he truly belonged .

( ... too slow . )

he doesn't say it , and only laughs again at sakura's various answers . ' --- my schemes , huh . ' what right did he have to sound so utterly resigned over arrogant as he usually did ? and yet , the guilt still pangs , the sorrow does too , each a bullet fired into the empty , dark hall of his heart's atrium . his voice has turned hollow : his greatest heist , that which even he was reluctant to take part in , might have been somehow fooling sakura into tolerating his continued company .

' ... it's a good indulgence , ' he has to say something beyond just repetition , he thinks , and so he does . ' nobody's getting hurt . if you wanted me to return the favor by dressing up or walking out with you be it as a beautiful man or woman , i wouldn't have any complaints , either . ' but he knew sakura and her personal preferences better , or at least he wanted to believe that he did . ' i doubt that you'd care for all the attention i'd end up attracting , though ... so there's nothing that i can do . '

conceited as the idea of himself might have seemed , wasn't it shameful too , to have to confess to how little he truly had ? thieves stole because everything that they wanted was out of their hands and perpetually in someone else's . beyond his foul , demanding presence , he had utterly nothing to give ; nothing that he could create , beyond what he could simply have taken then moved over in a way that would have surely only displeased sakura further . somewhere deep within him his heart beats out an apology , a dull , soft-thudding stammer of : i'm sorry , i'm sorry .

even desiring it , he had no controlling clutch on a thing like sakura's own happiness . he was helpless , and his one regret remained that his scheming , curse-like nature would surely only remain unchanged . unlike his face , whose flesh twitches and adjusts the instant he hears any door's unlocking click , evaporating itself in an instant of any grim cloud and evident loneliness .

' --- if anything's turned out wrong , then i'll help you fix it . though , as long as you didn't put the whole thing on backwards , i'm sure it's just fine . ' his hands loosely applaud as he fast glides away from any of his previous thoughts . he's playful once more ; eager , even . ' finally , it's about time ... let's see how cinder --- no , sakura-ella's cleaned up for the ball . '

...a heart with her hands...?

“Don’t you only use your thumb an’ pointer finger to make a heart?” She’s genuinely asking here, genuinely confused; she’s seen some of her classmates make’em before for selfies, but that’s the extent of it. She’s never really been one to do it, but for the sake of just checking, she pauses on her way to the bathroom to pull her hand out from under the dress—this stupid dress that, for whatever reason, is soooo tied up into his happiness—to try and copy the move, brows furrowed together at the easy join-and-slide of the two fingers.

She really doesn’t get him sometimes.

“Man, you’re weird.” A long-suffering sigh, a spared glance as she nudges her bathroom door open with a foot; “But, dammit, how long are you gonna go on about that? Are the words really such a big deal to you? I said I’d wear this so I didn’t have to say nothin’...”

Interesting as it would be to hear some Magic spells come outta his mouth if she did agree (if only because he keeps denying to show her any of the real ones he sometimes talks about and this is the next best thing), she does want to point that fact out, too. That deal is what even started this, after all.

(Not that it really was a deal, more-so just her tryin’ to get him off her back for somethin’ stupid, but whatever.)

What’s still a little concerning is the matter of Wiz—or not Wiz?? Two Wiz’s?? Wiz squared??? Why would both of the guys from Azumano have some kinda animal named Wiz in the first place?? As much as she’s fond of Wiz-rabbit, the idea’s just ridiculous.

The longer she tries to reason out a, well, reason, though, the harder it gets for her to think about it—because they are two different creatures, that’s clear a damn day, and it wouldn’t make sense if Dark just magically (irony not intended) knew Dai’s rabbit, either. The similarity is prickly, though, settling somewhere in her mind as something that bothers her but that she can’t really figure out, but...ugh, it makes her head hurt to try and make sense of. Too many weird things surround the two of them, but, at the end of the day, she’s got no real reason to be questioning anything.

(To his credit, it is the first time she’s seen this other one. And, unfortunate for her, she does trust him—to a degree only, she’ll insist, just to a degree).

She’ll just keep an eye on Wiz-rabbit, next time he and Dai’re over. Not as quick of a decision as the one to ignore his scold for her to be careful is, but still a decision.

Just as she’s made that decision, though, is she looking back over to him—only half-listening to his words, that entire time, as she considered the two animals—and comes back to full awareness. She’s halfway to making some sorta comment about the length (Who in the hell thought to make’em like that?) when she catches sight of his flush.

Honestly, if it’d been kept at that, maybe she would’ve been fine. Could’a teased him, even, for getting all heart-eyed. But the sight of his swoon and that word together makes her pause all over again.

‘Beautiful legs’, huh?

(Yeah, right, like that’s somethin’ to apply to mine.)

Whether he really has her in mind about it is up for grabs, but Haruka’s too focused on the knowledge of her own self, of her own body, to think about it. It’s not even that she, herself, thinks of them in any negative way (most of the time), but she’s also not stupid. The zig-zag of gashes old and newer; scars gone white and scars still dark; some raised, some indented into her skin, and some only noticeable under direct light after positioning herself this way and that—none of that’s beautiful. She doesn’t even want it to be, really, but she especially just doesn’t think so. They’re just...they’re there, and the truth is that they make her no looker (though, really, she didn’t need to go tearing into her own flesh to do that; her hair and eyes did that enough, for the average person), so she thinks—no, she knows that if Dark were to see her legs, he’d take his words right back.

The thought really doesn’t hurt, it just...doesn’t make her feel great, either.

It isn’t his fault, though, and she knows better than to make it that way, so she just shoves the feeling down.

“Like I said a minute ago—weird.” And with that, she disappears behind the bathroom door, closing it up as she lays the dress out over her sink—Nowhere else to put it besides the bath or the toilet, but I’ll be damned if he starts bitchin’ about that—and brings the thing from the storage room out from under her arm. A plastic-wrapped package, mostly see-through save for the label, and encasing a white, non-see-through material; to put it plainly, a pair of tights. They’d been given to her a few weeks back, maybe even a month, by now, but she hadn’t really had any opportunity or drive to open them up--and, sure, they probably hadn’t been intended to have their first use go like this, but, hey. Everything starts somewhere.

“Gee, though, wonder why you’re askin’ me that now.” Sardonic, she rolls her eyes, despite knowing he won’t be able to see’em (but screw it, maybe he’ll hear’em); fine, maybe she is talkin’ back this time just for the sake of it, but she’s pretty sure he would not have done it if she hadn’t brought it up! And still does she hesitate to answer—if only because she’s gotta undress and read the instructions on how to put the tights on, but that’s not her fault.

Surprisingly, though, they’re the easiest things to put on so far—they’re waist-high, which is a bonus because nothin’ can peek out from under the dress’ skirt with’em that high, and just had to be stepped into and rolled over herself once her pajama pants were off—and it has them climbing her clothes-rankings in an instant. And they’re even pretty soft, the material having a surprising amount of give and stretch to’em! Man, if she’d known that, she’d have at least tried them on way sooner than now!

...but then she’s straightening up, though, and the thing she’s really meant to be puttin’ on comes back into her field of vision, and her enthusiasm gets a little curbed. Well, whatever—as much as she’s a little miffed to have been pushed and teased and joked with to get to this point, this probably won’t be so bad. It is just a dress; it’s just somethin’ to wear.

“The day was fine, though, if ya really wanna know—or, at least, it was before I agreed to some idiot bird’s schemes.”

(As much as she’s bitching, though, Haruka knows, deep-down, that things wouldn’t have come so far without her allowing them to at all; there wasn’t anyone alive who could make her do some shit she didn’t wanna do. As annoying as Dark can get, too, he isn’t truly very pushy when she really refuses somethin’. It’s a good quality about him, one she appreciates more than she doesn’t.)

She snorts a disbelieving little chuckle, then, and adds, “But if me doin’ this makes ya happy or whatever, I guess it isn’t a total waste of time, either.”

The happiness of her friends is, after all, more important to her than anything else on the planet. Not that she’d ever say it out loud like that, and not that it doesn’t feel silly to say somethin’ so serious over her putting on a maid dress, but still.

“I, uh...think I have everything on right, though?” At the very least, the dress itself is now, also, on. “So I’ll come out.”

[alchemistc]

Tommy slumps further into the couch cushions, and the looks Eddie gives him is - dire, really. Tommy sort of wants to get shit faced and cry a little while cradling this throw pillow - the same one Evan had smacked him with a week ago while they crowded Eddie's too-small couch and Tommy had made fun of Evan for not knowing a single player on the Dodgers.

("You're actively rooting against them, why do you care if I know who they are?"

"Know thy enemy, Buckley," was Eddie's immediate response, and Evan had swung the pillow when he caught Tommy and Eddie fist bumping out of the corner of his eye.)

"Pretty sure it's actually cheating to come to me," Eddie intones, but he's already up and moving towards the cabinet where he keeps the good whiskey.

He settles into the recliner and gestures with the bottle, a very clear 'go on' in his expression.

Tommy thinks about maybe just - drowning himself in spirits and hiding under a rock for the rest of his life.

"I asked Evan to move in with me."

Eddie's brow kicks up. He purses his lip. Nods. His eyes do something that tells Tommy he is actively biting down on whatever it is he's thinking.

"And...you...fought. You fought about Buck ... moving in."

(Six months is such a short time, really. They've just leapt every other milestone like it's their damn job, and - Christ, they'd had keys to each other's places in weeks.)

Tommy narrows his eyes. "You know something."

"Yeah, and that's why this," he gestures vaguely in the direction of Tommy, fully pouting on his couch and commandeering too large a surface area for Eddie to actually join him there, "is cheating."

Tommy would love to point out that he just doesn't have a shit ton of friends willing to listen to him bitch about an argument he's trying to figure out without fucking imploding the whole goddamn thing. He'd love to point out that he and Eddie have already set these boundaries and Tommy is aware he's pushing it.

Tommy tilts his head against the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. "Well if we can't talk about it, at least get me drunk."

Eddie hands him a shot glass and stands to go grab them both beers.

---

"So the thing is," Tommy says, slumped against Eddie's side and gesturing in front of himself. His hands are - they're a little blurry. Thank God he isn't on call. "The thing is."

He's got a hangnail that's been driving him nuts for weeks. He's already got a layout in his head for how to make Evan's wardrobe fit in his closet. Half of Evan's kitchen lives in Tommy's already, and he'd - he'd been sure they were in the same page.

"The thing?" Eddie asks, and - Christ, it's not like Eddie's having an easy time with any of the - anything. He's definitely overindulged right along with Tommy. Thank fuck they're not maudlin drunks, just what they need is two PTSD riddled idiots filled up with liquor and bemoaning their lives.

"What thing?"

"The thing, Tommy."

Right. The thing. "I love him," Tommy says, and Eddie's eyes go wide like he doesn't already know this. But Tommy - Tommy's said it in range of Eddie's hearing, right? He's - he's said it.

(The lone braincell shared between them whispers that Tommy has said it, once, to the curls atop Evan's sweaty head while Evan was still passed out on his chest. Fuck braincells.)

"Uhuh."

"What uhuh?"

You don't ask someone to move in with you when you still haven't worked up the courage to say I love you to someone's face, is the thing. And Evan's said it - happy and carefree and open even when Tommy just kissed him to distract him from Tommy not saying it back. He has to know, right? Tommy's said it in every other way he knows how.

"Listen, bro code broken, man, Buck's fucking terrified to mess this up with you and the whole 'you haven't said the words' has been, like, messing with his head for weeks, dude. And now outta the blue, hey move in with me? He's trying desperately not to assume you did something terrible and are using this to cover it up."

"He told you that?"

Eddie scoffs. He actually says 'pshhh', and rolls his head towards Tommy. "No." He enunciates too much. The 'o' is way too long in that word. It's a two letter word, how did he make it sound like seven syllables?

Tommy wants another shot, but Eddie had clearly not meant for that whiskey to be shared and it'd already been more than half gone when he pulled it out. There's...maybe half an ounce left. Fuck.

"Then how...?"

"I already broke bro code for you, dumbass. Can't you read between the lines?"

"Is this like the couch thing?"

The mindfuck of trying to decipher Eddie and Evan's little shared looks while Evan announced that Tommy's couch was his favorite couch had been -

He's getting off track.

He hasn't said the fucking words. He's in love with the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, filthiest fucking man he's ever known and he hasn't said the words.

"Hamster wheel," Eddie says sagely, like that means a damn fucking thing, but Tommy's already fumbling for his phone. Texting that is out of the question, and he doesn't want to call while he's... more drunk than he'd care to admit.

Tommy shoves Eddie off his shoulder, and only gets a little spinny when he stands. He's a forty year old man, he can absolutely ask his boyfriend to pick him up from... his boyfriends best friends house and help him sober up so he can have a conversation.

"Water," Tommy says, and Eddie snorts.

"Toooo late."

Tommy feels about five years old when he shoves at Eddie's face before retreating to the kitchen.

---

"Tommy," Evan says, bent low over the couch, and Tommy blinks himself awake, regretting every drop of whiskey he'd drunk last night. He'd - there'd been water. An attempt at typing out a message. A slap fight in Eddie's kitchen when he decided to chow down on the last of the casserole Evan had left behind three days ago. More water.

This couch is way too fucking small for him. He's - he's still got one shoe on, and a blanket crumpled haphazardly over one leg. His head is pounding.

Evan looks - concerned. Maybe still a little annoyed. Fond.

"Ev," he manages, moving to sit up and regretting it when five million bees make a home right there against his frontal lobe. Smoke clears that out, right? He remembers Evan being super fucking proud that that had worked.

Evan holds up a glass of water that Tommy takes gratefully. He doesn't drink it nearly as slowly as he should.

When he's done, Evan stands, and - God his legs are long. Tommy loves those fucking legs - loves the hair that catches against his calluses on his way up towards the promised land, loves the strength behind them when he snaps his hips forward, loves the way they feel all wrapped around him when they're -

"We are not anywhere close to the sort of resolution necessary for that look," Evan says, and Tommy sighs. Because they haven't talked about it. Because they'd yelled and smacked their hands against counters and the explosion had sent them careening off in different directions and Tommy hasn't told him.

"Angry sex can be fun," Tommy wheedles, a little unnecessarily because he doesn't actually want - and on Eddie's couch to boot, which is absolutely not what he's angling for.

"I'm not mad at you," Evan says, and Tommy gives him an unimpressed look. "Okay, I'm mostly just - confused."

Fair enough. Tommy's been confusing. Tommy's been -

Tommy curls a hand around the meat of Evan's calf and tips his head against Evan's thigh. "Can we not do this in Eddie's living room?"

---

He doesn't want to admit that it took Eddie breaking all sorts of friendship rules for Tommy to even grasp the point of Evan freezing the fuck up when Tommy had mentioned his lease. He doesn't want to admit that he's fucking terrified, all the time, about the feelings in his chest that never quite settle, that bubble up at the strangest times because every-fucking-thing reminds him of Evan. He doesn't want to admit that he'd just leapt that hurdle in his mind even though Evan has been very clearly marking every other step with metaphorical (and sometimes literal) sticky notes.

Evan hands him his tea and immediately starts picking at the paper sleeve on his cup of coffee.

"I'm not afraid of losing you," Tommy starts, which is - the opposite of the point he's trying to make, and Evan's grimace tells him it's a bad place to start. "I mean that's not why I asked."

Evan is still grimacing. And that's - Christ, he hadn't even planned it, it was just - he'd been there, digging through Tommy's sock drawer, his shit tumbling out of his overnight bag at the end of the bed and his book on the history of perfume in the bedside table and his crock pot stewing something that smelled heavenly, thirty feet away, and he wanted that always, wanted that forever, wanted more than anything to enjoy all the little moments that came before he spent the money in savings hed been setting aside since successful date number five when he'd wondered if Evan had ever thought about getting married.

"You think I asked out of convenience, right? Your stuff's already there, might as well?"

"I'm not leaving things there on purpose."

"I want you to leave things there on purpose. I want all your things there, on purpose. Even when you move my milk to the fridge door and my sugar stash to the wrong pantry shelf and even when you replace my toothpaste because it doesn't have the right enamel protection."

His lip quirks. That had been a near argument too. Tommy was particular. Tommy didn't do great with change. Evan's changed damn near fucking everything, for Tommy, and he's never been more grateful for a single thing in his fucking life.

Tommy curls a finger around Evan's wrist, and his gaze darts up through his lashes. They're long, and distracting, and Tommy wouldn't mind shoving this disagreement to the side so he can brush his lips across the paper thin lids of his eyes, but -

"I missed some steps, getting there," Tommy admits, and Evan bites his lip like he's trying to hide a smile.

"My fault, a bit. I - I could see why you might have just assumed we were scaling 'em two at a time."

"Evan," he says, and breathes a sigh of relief when his free hand darts out to smooth the veins on the back of Tommy's hand.

"Next week is six months," he says, like Tommy doesn't fucking know that, and his thumb sweeps over Tommy's knuckles. "So, i -if you have anything you wanna say before then, you got a week before you can ask me again."

(Six months is the blink of an eye, actually, but Tommy hates every blink that doesn't include Evan in it.)

"You got plans?" Tommy asks, and Evan's face pinkens.

"If you're lucky I'll even tell you them."

"It's a date."

[chiyuuchu]

II. The plot twist of admiration <3 (2nd August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! The class decides to make a bet with everyone writing down who they think y/n’s admirer is.

first part here!

Every story has two sides to it.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to waste time on frivolous matters like romance. He had better things to do, like becoming the number one hero. But there was something about Y/N that made him act differently. Without really understanding why, he found himself wanting to make her smile, to see her happy. So, he started leaving gifts on her desk: flowers, sweets, her favorite drinks.

He watched from a distance, making sure no one noticed him. He didn't need the extra attention or the questions from his classmates. Plus, it was kind of fun seeing them guess who the secret admirer was.

“Maybe it’s Midoriya,” Mina said one day during lunch. Bakugou rolled his eyes. Of course, they'd think it was Deku. “He’s so attentive and always pays attention to what his friends like.”

Bakugou scoffed internally. Deku might be observant, but he wasn’t the one leaving the gifts. Besides, Bakugou knew exactly what Y/N liked because he paid attention, too. He wasn’t just some explosive hothead, no matter what people thought.

“I don’t know,” Tsuyu said thoughtfully. “It could be Kirishima. He seems like a romantic guy.”

Bakugou almost laughed out loud at that. Sure, Kirishima was his best friend, but he wasn’t the one sneaking around. And IcyHot? The guy was about as emotionally expressive as a block of ice. He was also certainly sure the bird brain was too kept to self to like someone.

As days went by, Bakugou continued to leave gifts. He saw Y/N's smile every time she found something new on her desk, and it made his heart swell in a way he didn’t quite understand. One evening, he went to the convenience store to get her favorite drink. When he returned to the dorms, he saw Y/N in the kitchen, looking frustrated.

“What’s got you all worked up?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Someone must have taken my favorite drink. I was really looking forward to it.,” she sighed.

He scoffed, pulling the drink out of his plastic bag. “Here. I just bought a few. Don’t make such a fuss.” he said, tossing it to her. Before she could say anything. Bakugou just takes his leave with a huff. “Whatever. I’m outta here.”

When he reached his bedroom, he immediately covered his face. The heat which had rushed to his face earlier swallowed him whole. His heart was pounding.

The next day, he left another gift on her desk. This time, it was a box of her favorite pastries. He'd gone out of his way to get them from a bakery across town. Bakugou watched from a distance, smirking to himself as Y/N smiled.

During lunch, the girls were really pushing their theories about who it could be.

“It’s gotta be someone who’s been paying close attention,” Mina says, thinking maybe too hard. “Maybe it’s still Midoriya?”

“Or Kirishima,” Momo claimed. “What if the other day he said it wasn’t him was an act.”

“Or Todoroki,” Kirishima chuckled heartily. “He’s always so polite and thoughtful.”

“Or maybe Sero,” said Hagakure. “He could be into you, who knows.”

Bakugou couldn't help but roll his eyes again. It was almost laughable how off their guesses were. As Y/N's smile grew wider with each gift, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction. He wanted to be the one who made her happy, even if he had to do it from the shadows.

While Y/n slowly looks over and locks eyes with Bakugou, he couldn’t help but give her his genuine smile. A smile that was only for her.

Bakugou continued his secret gifting for another week, each time feeling a mix of pride and frustration. One evening, after another exhausting day of training, he was about to head back to his dorm room when he noticed Y/N sitting alone on the couch in the common area, looking contemplative. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach her.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Y/N looked up, her face lighting up with a smile. "Hey, Bakugou."

He sat down next to her, unsure of what to say next. They sat in silence for a few moments before Y/N spoke again.

"You know," she began, her voice soft, "I've been getting these really sweet gifts lately. Flowers, sweets, drinks... It's been really nice."

Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest. He tried to keep his expression neutral. "Yeah? You figure out who it is yet?"

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Not yet. But I think I have an idea."

Bakugou felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to tell her, to admit that it was him, but the words seemed to stick. Before he could muster up the courage, Y/N turned to him, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"What about you, Bakugou? Have you ever done something like this for someone?"

He snorted, trying to deflect. "What, leave gifts and play secret admirer? Not my style."

Y/N laughed softly. "I didn't think so. But you never know. People can surprise you."

She definitely knows. He gulped internally.

Bakugou swallowed hard, feeling a surge of determination. "Yeah, well... maybe I have a few surprises up my sleeve."

Y/N tilted her head, studying him with an amused expression. "Is that so?"

Her phone began ringing. “Oh, I gotta take this call. Thanks for the chat, Bakugou.” She smiled and walked away.

Before Bakugou could respond, a loud crash came from the kitchen area, followed by Kirishima's voice shouting about a spilled pot.

As she walked away, Bakugou watched her go, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He knew he needed to find the right moment, but it was hard to say when that would be. He stood up, ready to head to his room, when Kirishima came rushing over, a huge grin on his face.

"Dude, guess what!" Kirishima exclaimed. "Everyone's trying to figure out who Y/N's secret admirer is. You gotta see this."

Bakugou rolled his eyes but followed Kirishima back to the Kitchen area, where a group of their classmates were gathered, excitedly discussing their theories.

"I'm telling you, it's got to be Todoroki," Hagakure was saying. "He's always so calm and collected. It fits."

"No way," Kaminari argued. "It's definitely Tokoyami. He's mysterious enough to pull this off."

“What the hell is everyone making a fuss about?” Bakugou grumbled.

“Oh! Hey man, we were just placing bets on who Y/n’s secret admirer could be.” Kaminari casually said. “My bets on Tokoyami.” He proudly claimed. And why exactly was he proud of his assumption?

“Well I think it’s Midoriya!” Mina folded her arms with an angry closed eyed pout.

Momo also chimed in. “I still think that it’s Kirishima and that he’s secretly deceiving us that it isn’t him.” Kirishima who was beside her folded his arms. “Hey! It isn’t me, you’ll lose your money for betting on it!” He, once again defended himself.

“What if it was a girl and we were deceived the entire time.” Jirou randomly put a a finger to her chin, looking up in thought. “Hmm.” She hummed in thought. Right after that, everyone did the same with putting their finger on their chins and humming in thought.

“I know! We should settle this bet by asking everyone to write down on this paper who they think it is. Winner takes all.” Kaminari smugly said, pulling a piece of paper out.

“Oh, you’re on pikachu!” Mina retorted.

Bakugou mentally wanted to facepalm. But then he thought about it. If he were to guess himself then wouldn’t he technically be the winner of the bet?

“Whatever, you losers do what you fucking want.” Bakugou said and walked back to his room. “Hey! Where you going? You need to bet too!” Kaminari exclaimed. “Yeah yeah, just give it to me tomorrow. I need to catch some fucking sleep.” Was the last thing Bakugou said before heading back to his room.

The next morning, the classroom was full with chatter during a break between lessons. Kaminari, ever the instigator, was bouncing around with a piece of paper and a pen.

"Alright, guys, everyone write down who you think Y/N's secret admirer is! Everyone is betting! Winner takes all!" he announced, waving the paper in the air.

Y/n just gave a confused expression before going back to her book.

One by one, the students scribbled down their guesses and passed the paper around. When it finally reached Bakugou, he glanced at the eager faces around him and scowled.

"I'll do it later," he muttered, snatching the paper and shoving it into his bag.

"Aw, come on, Bakugou!" Kaminari protested. "Just write it down real quick!"

Bakugou ignored him, standing up and heading out of the classroom as the bell rang, signaling the end of their break. Kaminari pouted but didn't push further, knowing better than to press Bakugou when he was in a mood.

Later that evening, Bakugou sat in his dorm room, the crumpled piece of paper lying on his desk. He sighed, unfolding it and smoothing it out to see the various guesses scrawled in different handwriting.

He couldn't help but scoff at some of the guesses.

Uraraka: "I bet it's Sero. He’s always pulling pranks but he's got a sweet side."

Todoroki: "Maybe it's Kirishima. He’s very straightforward."

Kirishima: "Nah, it's gotta be Midoriya. He's so considerate."

Midoriya: "My best guess would be Kirishima… He definitely seems like that type of guy."

Yaoyorozu: "I still think it's Kirishima."

Ashido: "I know it’s Midoriya."

Tsu: "I change my mind, I’m placing my bet on Kaminari."

Jirou: "I guess it might be Kaminari. He’s got a fun personality and is always trying to cheer everyone up."

Aoyama: "It could be Iida. Je sais cela!"

Sero: "Maybe it's Shoji. He's very attentive and protective."

Tokoyami: "I assume it might be Todoroki. He's very observant and quiet."

Hagakure: "My bet is still on Todoroki!"

Iida: "I believe it's Kaminari. He’s always energetic and caring."

Shoji: "It might be Iida."

Ojiro: "I think it could be Aoyama. He’s always trying to make everyone feel special."

Koda: "I think it’s Midoriya..."

Mineta: "It's definitely someone unexpected, maybe Jirou. She's got that vibe. And who knows? Girls on girls!"

Sato: "What if it's Mina? She's really unpredictable."

Kaminari: "I still think it's Tokoyami! Imagine that!"

Aizawa: "Bakugou Katsuki."

Even the teacher???

Bakugou paused at Aizawa’s guess, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and satisfaction.

"Idiots," he muttered to himself. "They have no idea."

Aggressively scribbling on the piece of paper, he carelessly folds it.

But as he lay in bed that night, his thoughts drifted to Y/N. He imagined the smile on her face when she received his gifts and how her eyes sparkled when she spoke about them. It gave him a strange sense of accomplishment that none of his training victories ever did.

The next day in class, Kaminari eagerly retrieved the paper from Bakugou and prepared to read the guesses. However, just as he was about to open it, everyone began to question how they would find out who the admirer really was.

"How are we actually gonna figure out who it is?" Midoriya asked, looking around the room.

Suddenly, Mina stood up and yelled, "Whoever the admirer is, you have to come clean now because we've all placed bets already, and I'm sure Y/N is interested."

Silence. Everyone was looking at each other, trying to see if the admirer would step up.

Bakugou gulped, feeling a surge of panic.

Then Hagakure made a suggestion. "Why don't we make it more fun? Y/N should write down on another piece of paper who she wants her admirer to be."

For some reason, Y/N agreed willingly. She took a piece of paper and began to write a name. Bakugou watched her, rethinking his life decisions. If he admitted his feelings now and wasn't the one she wanted, he would never live it down.

Y/N finished writing, folded the paper, and kept it to herself.

“Wait I have an idea!” Tsu said and whispered something into Mina’s ear.

"Alright then," Mina said with determination. "Everyone who is NOT the admirer, sit down."

Slowly, one by one, the students sat down until only Bakugou remained standing with his eyes shut tight.

The room filled with gasps and murmurs of confusion.

"Bakugou?!" Kaminari exclaimed, wide-eyed.

“KACCHAN??” Izuku exclaimed.

"No way," Kirishima muttered, shaking his head. "Bakugou, seriously?"

"I lost my bet!" Sero groaned, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Wait, Bakugou's the secret admirer?" Uraraka asked, her eyes darting between him and Y/N.

Jirou smirked. "Well, this just got interesting."

“I certainly did not expect this..” Momo’s voice sounded.

Some students complained about losing their bets, while others were simply shocked. Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest. After a moment of silence, he heard the sound of a paper unfolding.

More gasps filled the room.

"You can open your eyes, Bakugou," Y/N said softly.

Bakugou's heart sank. What if his name wasn't on the paper?

He opened his eyes and saw Y/N holding the paper.

Bakugou Katsuki

His heart soared when he saw his name written on it. A wave of relief and happiness washed over him as the class erupted in a mix of congratulations and disbelief. He had never been this terrified in his life, but it was all worth it.

“Very unexpected, I must say.” Iida said.

"Well, who would've thought?" Mina laughed, nudging Kirishima.

"Guess we all underestimated Bakugou," Tokoyami said with a rare smile.

"Congrats, man," Kirishima said, patting Bakugou on the back. "Took some real guts."

Bakugou, his face slightly flushed, just nodded, trying to maintain his usual tough demeanor. But inside, he was over the moon.

“Wait! It’s not over! Who won the bet?” Sero yelled, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.

Kaminari hurriedly opens the paper.

Uraraka: "I bet it's Sero. He’s always pulling pranks but he's got a sweet side."

Todoroki: "Maybe it's Kirishima. He’s very straightforward."

Kirishima: "Nah, it's gotta be Midoriya. He's so considerate."

Midoriya: "My best guess would be Kirishima… He definitely seems like that type of guy."

Yaoyorozu: "I still think it's Kirishima."

Ashido: "I know it’s Midoriya."

Tsu: "I change my mind, I’m placing my bet on Kaminari."

Jirou: "I guess it might be Kaminari. He’s got a fun personality and is always trying to cheer everyone up."

Aoyama: "It could be Iida. Je sais cela!"

Sero: "Maybe it's Shoji. He's very attentive and protective."

Tokoyami: "I assume it might be Todoroki. He's very observant and quiet."

Hagakure: "My bet is still on Todoroki!"

Iida: "I believe it's Kaminari. He’s always energetic and caring."

Shoji: "It might be Iida."

Ojiro: "I think it could be Aoyama. He’s always trying to make everyone feel special."

Koda: "I think it’s Midoriya..."

Mineta: "It's definitely someone unexpected, maybe Jirou. She's got that vibe. And who knows? Girls on girls!"

Sato: "What if it's Mina? She's really unpredictable."

Kaminari: "I still think it's Tokoyami! Imagine that!"

Aizawa: "Bakugou Katsuki.”

Bakugou: "Bakugou Katsuki."

“Bakugou won? Isn’t that technically cheating..” Momo said with a concerned look.

“Technically that means I won. Now pay up.” Aizawa said from his sleeping bag.

“Ughhhhhhhhh.”

After the class settled down from the surprising outcome, Bakugou found a moment to approach Y/N. He was still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions from the earlier scene.

"Hey," he started, his voice gruff but softer than usual. "Can we talk?"

Y/N looked up and smiled. "Sure, Bakugou. What's up?"

He led her outside of the classroom, away from the curious gazes of their classmates. The tension between them was palpable, but Bakugou tried to ignore the nervous flutter in his chest.

"So, you actually picked me," he said, struggling to keep his usual confident tone. "Why?"

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him. "Well, I've always noticed you’re not as rough as you seem. There’s a lot more to you that people don't see. I appreciate that you always seemed to care, even if you don’t show it."

Bakugou’s face flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d ever actually like me. Not with how everyone talks about me."

Y/N shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. "You’re more than what people say, Bakugou. And I’m glad I got to know that."

Bakugou hesitated for a moment before stepping a bit closer. "So, what now? Now that everyone knows?"

Y/N's smile grew, and she looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. "I think we should see where this goes. I’m happy with how things are turning out."

Bakugou’s usual scowl softened into a genuine smile, and he took a deep breath. "Yeah, me too."

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the classroom fading into the background as they enjoyed the rare, peaceful connection between them. It was the start of something new, and for once, Bakugou felt that he might just be ready to embrace it.

[ghostssweetgirl]

hii again <3

this request is a litttlleee bit darker than usual but here we go

how would 141 react when someone slips something in readers drink at a bar?? like would ghost immediately stand up and beat the mf up?? 🥹

hi! omg they would all stand up and immediately beat some ass frfr & i LOVE dark stuff, dw :) <3 i'm not that good at writing action scenes but i hope this is goooood bc i do love the idea that they would fight for u

TF141 and How They'd React to Someone Slipping Something Into Your Drink

cw: alcohol intake, mentions of drugs, violence & blood

Captain John Price

He took the team out for drinks, sitting around the bar top. Everyone was having their own conversation, and it made his heart happy to see his people laughing with smiling faces.

While he was in a corner seat, he was making sure to keep an eye out on his team, as a good captain should.

You turned around for a minute, distracted. Soon as you weren't looking, some creep had sprinkled a powdered form of a drug into your drink, causing it to fizzle.

Of course, you didn't notice as you were watching a group of people playfully argue over their pool game.

You jumped back around when all of a sudden your captain's hands were at this guy's throat.

"You really thought you'd get away with that?" Price growled.

"Mind your fuckin' business, will you?" the creep retorted.

You made eye contact with Price, confused as to what was happening. "What the fuck," you whispered.

"Take it outside," the bartender said.

"Gladly, sir," Price chuckled darkly, dragging the guy by his shirt.

A few moments later, Price returned, kindly smiling at you. You could see the adrenaline pumping through his veins at his reddened face.

"Let's order you a new drink, yeah? Fucker ruined this one."

John 'Soap' MacTavish

You took a few sips out of your first drink, setting it down.

You smiled around at your comrades, happy to be there. A random chick walked up to you, asking you what you recommended her to order as she was new here and she just turned of age to start drinking.

You were busy chatting away, getting to know her, not noticing the random arm swooping around you, drugging your beverage.

Soap sitting next to you, picked up your drink and swiftly got up without a word.

"You okay, Soap?" you turned to him. You recognized the look in his eyes - anger. "M-my drink! What are you doing with it?"

He cornered the guy, not saying a word. His chest rose and fell heavily as he tilted his head, throwing the drink in the man's face before punching the shit out of him. He tried to fight back, missing his swing as Soap got him on the ground.

The bartender held his hands up, trying to politely ask them to take it outside but Soap was too quick in his actions.

Blood quickly splattered across the concrete floor, as well as across Soap's face and uniform.

"Get the fuck outta here," Soap demanded him, towering above him as he cowardly rose off the ground, basically tucking his tail as he ran out of the bar door. Soap looked at the bartender and back at the blood. "I'll clean it up."

He returned to his seat shortly after, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Let's get you a fresh drink, lass."

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

You were laughing at one of Price's jokes with your drink in hand. As you laughed, your hand went outwards, giving perfect access for some weirdo to walk up and put a drug in it.

Gaz watched the interaction silently, taking your drink away from you while you wouldn't notice it.

In your drunkenness, you ordered a new drink, and it was quickly given to you but as you turned around, Gaz was gone. You looked around the building, and to your surprise he was face to face with someone, having a silent, heated conversation with someone.

The guy held his hands up in defense, seeming to try to explain himself.

Gaz looked at you, seeing your worried face. The creep met your gaze and he winked at you, his lips were moving but you couldn't tell what he said.

When suddenly, Gaz smiled. You couldn't tell if it was a genuine smile or the type of smile you give someone when you're really about to give it to them.

It was the latter. Gaz hiked his knee up, bringing the man's face down to connect with it sharply. Blood painted a small patch into Gaz's pants and blood leaked down the man's face. Clearly disoriented, he tried to fight back but Gaz landed one last blow before the man held his head down, regaining his balance, shortly leaving afterwards.

The bartender sighed, walking over with cleaning supplies and Gaz helped him out.

"What... was that about, Garrick?" you whispered.

"Don't worry 'bout it. Enjoy your 'good' drink," he rolled his eyes, and from that you could tell what had happened, happy to have been around your teammates when this happened.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

You had finished quite a handful of drinks, making sure this was your last one.

You took a few first sips before setting it down, joining the conversation with your teammates.

Ghost, as usual, was quiet. Nodding along and joining the conversation when needed. He had been keeping his eyes peeled for something to happen.

Price complimented you and Ghost's teamwork, which you happily thanked him and smiled at Ghost who nodded at you, but his eyes weren't on you. They were focused at the left side of you.

You felt a presence, and before you could turn around it was gone. Looking back around, Ghost was gone, too. Damn, that was quick.

Trying to shrug it off, you go to grab your drink but couldn't find it. Now, what the fuck?

You look around confused, seeing your teammates eyeing the corner, so you follow their gaze.

Seeing Ghost, towering over someone, hand on his knife. Your eyes widened, hoping he didn't have to use it. He held your missing cup up to the man's face as if he was interrogating him. He was.

The man was near crying, lips stammering as he tried to explain himself, but Ghost wasn't having it. Ghost must have said something to set the guy off because he thought it would be a good idea to try and push past Ghost. The glass shattered from Ghost's grip. His body tensed up before one large hand clasped around the creep's throat, lifting him up the wall. He gasped for air until his face scrunched in pain as Ghost's fist met it with a violent punch. Then another. And another.

The bartender seemed annoyed, but Ghost couldn't give a shit. He let go of the now-unconscious man, letting his body fall to the ground.

Ghost sighed as he sat back down, nodding at you. You awkwardly smiled, putting two and two together on what happened.

"Thanks, Ghost..." you said.

"Want a fresh drink, luv? Sorry 'bout your last one," he asked.

"After that, yeah..."

[synthshenanigans]

Reblogging this cos 1. I love this idea 2. I love unbertale 3. I put too much thought into the tags & wanna find it later. [Also if anyone here wants to read it, they can see it if they want]

Don't know if it's needed, but TW for mentions of suicide. (It's not really that big, but I still put it just in case.)

If Sans Undertale were to judge them (plus Whole) based on what happened throughout the series, I think it would go something like this:

Heart: Sans would let him pass, but he's most definitely keeping an eye on him. (Trying to shoot Mind)

Mind: Judgement when completing Pacifist, yet you were rude. (Mocking Heart, yet not really committing any acts that would potentially have him earn EXP.) [Is there even a different judgement for being rude during a Pacifist run? I seriously don't even know–]

Soul: Would probably be given a bad time. (Threatening Heart and Mind, threatening suicide, probably killing the two in a few timelines, etc.)

Whole: Would be given a lecture to STOP RESETTING TIMELINES. (Obvious; he would forget five seconds later.)

Headcanon #230

[fanartist666]

TW: Discussion of needles, phobias and blood Reader can be anyone, tried to be as gender neutral as possible, just rambling tbh, Price is a big soft baby and needs to be coddled when he isn't spoiling you

I headcanon this man as being scared of needles.

Hear me out, going by Barry's height Price is like 6'3, and just look at the size of him! Yeah he has Ser Harwin Strong vibes and absolutely would beat the shit out of anyone that ever insulted you and he kills people. But imagine if he was unreasonably scared of it, and it gets worse around you.

Not because you're bad for him, or you make him feel unsafe, but the opposite. His walls come down around you, and you make him feel the safest he's ever felt, so instead of gritting his teeth and hyperventilating a little (shutting down very mildly) but getting himself through it when he's away, he's got the safety to express his actual terror around you.

You go with him to get blood drawn, or a vaccination, and the phlebotomist comes out and asks if you can come in because your fucking bear of a husband is bouncing off the walls because he can't handle it.

It wasn't until ten had passed that you suspected there might be something wrong. Maybe he'd passed out, you thought with a soft snort at the absurdity of the idea. John wasn't squeamish, but it shouldn't have taken this long, surely?

"Alright luvvie, see you in a min." John said, kissing your forehead as he left to step into a little consult room. Shouldn't be long, he was going to take you for coffee afterwards, so you took out your phone and crossed your legs in the waiting room chair. The same weird, NHS logo blue and white tones in seemingly every hospital with the sickly green floors. You wrinkled your nose slightly at the stench of antiseptic stinging at the inside of your skull and settled for a five minute wait.

Just as you raised your head to glance at the clock, the door John had walked through opened, and a nurse stuck her head out.

"Is there a (Y/N) Price here?" You stood up immediately, mouth going dry at the thought that something could have gone wrong. It was only a blood sample, what the hell could have happened?

"Yes, yes that's me- is everything alright?" You asked, squeezing your phone so tight your knuckles were going white.

"No need to worry! We're just having a little trouble, would you be able to come in?" You nodded and followed her in. Your eyes landed on your very embarrassed, jumpy husband.

"John?" You asked, coming closer to him but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I don't like needles." He mumbled as you took his hand, immediately feeling his weight against your shoulder. "Apparently when I'm home, I can't cope so well."

"Oh John... Sweetheart, you could've told me." You said, kissing his cheek and taking his massive shoulders under your arms as he pressed his hot, red face into your neck.

And that was how you wound up with your 6'3 200+lbs husband half in your lap, stroking his hair and holding his hand while he had his blood sample taken, and walked out hand in hand. In return for your silence, he bought you a pastry, which you accepted, but promised him wasn't needed. Inwardly you were actually pleased that he felt safe enough with you near him to not force down his fears, to express them and by extension, himself.

If the 141 boys ever saw him with you they'd hardly recognise him, he's the same guy, his personality never changes, but he's a hundred times more expressive in every way.

idk this just kinda poured outta my head lmao

[fastcardotmp3]

welcome to dot drops something that's been sitting in her tumblr drafts for 4 months Saturday I hope you enjoy your visit mwah! Steddie; Ballet AU; Dancer!Steve; mentions of cancer treatment; 1.5k words

Dress rehearsal is supposed to be a mess.

That's the point of it, really, to get all the mistakes out of your system and start the actual show run with a clean slate. Or at least, that had been the point of which they'd all convinced themselves when Steve was the one performing.

Bad dress meant good show, or so the old adage went, and so at least there was some ease of worry with the collective understanding that it won't happen on the night within the company.

That was the case when Steve was a student, when he was an apprentice, even during his time in the big leagues at Joffrey, but right now? At the end of a truly abysmal dress in this run-down theater on the edge of a town from which he'd once run away?

Steve is not the performer. He's the guy in charge.

And so he spirals.

He'd never wanted to be a director or an instructor or the head of a studio like this. It had never been in his plans. Steve was a man of action, where the people who do these jobs are the brains behind the operation.

Steve knows how to work hard, how to force his body and even his mind into submission until he gets the steps just right, but this? These past six months back in Hawkins temporarily helping out?

(God, please let it be temporary.)

He's not built for this. He's sitting center stage after everyone has left with only half the house lights to illuminate his misery and he's not. Built. For. This.

Not built for being a mentor or a leader or a role model; not built to handle the strenuous nature of his mother's legacy; not built to carry the name she's made for herself as a teacher and a choreographer and a shaper of young dancers.

Steve's not built for it!

They'd had a shitty fucking dress.

"Hey, uh, you gonna be a while? I kinda need to close up for the night."

The voice echoes across the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and straight up to land on the Marley floors at Steve's feet. The stage isn't built for dancers, much like Steve isn't built to be here, so they'd had to pull up the floors from the studio and drag them halfway across town just to roll them out here.

"Hello? Are you, like, alive up there?"

Steve sighs. "Yeah," he calls back, catching sight of the figure talking to him at the back of the theater, the young guy who runs the place and who Steve met a grand total of three days ago. His name is Eddie and he dresses more like he's running a music venue than a local community theater, but he's mostly stayed out of Steve's way so far. "Sorry, I'll get outta your hair."

"Sure," Eddie says, but he's just sort of leaning against the back wall by the window to the sound and lighting booth without an ounce of urgency to him as Steve drags himself to his aching feet and lugs his three separate bags of show stuff onto his shoulders.

There's an energy to an empty theater, one which has held a performance and one which now holds the ghosts of that performance, which tugs at the anxieties sitting buried deep beneath the more immediate ones.

Fears about his mom's health, about what will happen to the studio if she doesn't win this particular battle, about what will happen to him.

There's an energy here in the creak of the steps which lead down off the front of the stage and there's an energy to the plod of Steve's sneakers up the long, racked aisle between the seats.

There's an energy, but it's also not empty, is it.

"Hey, good show, dude," Eddie says, pushing off his wall as Steve grows nearer. "Like, talented kids you've got there."

Steve scoffs before he can help himself and then pinches the bridge of his nose in a grimace for not being able to help himself.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," he grits out, thinking about his bed. Thinking about how he never made time for dinner and he has to be here early again tomorrow.

"Wow, resounding confidence on this one," Eddie snorts, and when Steve opens his eyes it's to genuine amusement, genuine curiosity in the tilt of a head and furrow of a brow.

"No, just," he shakes his head, "you should see 'em when they're really on their game, y'know?"

Eddie hums, and when did Steve come to a stop right in front of him? He's leaving. He has to leave. Go home. Think about all the spacing corrections he needs to fix tomorrow and run through with the girls before show time.

"Bad dress, good show though, right?"

Steve startles. Maybe a little too visibly because Eddie is actively holding back laughter at the sight of him.

"What, I've worked at a theater for four years and I'm not supposed to pick up a thing or two about the ballet?" he snarks good-naturedly. "Caroline, the lady who did your job before you, she was a chatty one, taught me everything I know about Giselle."

It's a knife between the ribs. It's a soothing sort of heat, like from a roaring bonfire.

"You--" he clears his throat, "you know Caroline?"

"Highlight of the job honestly, before she retired," Eddie shrugs.

"She didn't retire."

"Oh. She...?"

"Chemo," Steve doesn't know why he's saying it all so willingly, why after months of trying to run the studio without having to talk about how's your mom doing, sweetheart? he's opening up to this stranger with the curly hair and curious eyes. But he knows her. He's-- Well, he knows her. "I'm just here to-- to fill in until she can come back. So."

Eddie is studying him now. Curious eyes turned intelligent, knowing, sad with the weight of realization.

"You're the wonder boy," he says on a breath like oh, I get it now.

"The what?" Steve balks.

"Her kid," Eddie says like it's simple. He's leaning against the wall again, like he's not planning on getting back to work anymore, "she was-- Shit, man, she loves the hell outta you. Oh, you should see my son, he's in Les Corsaire this season! Oh, my boy, he's just gotten promoted to soloist, he'll be a principal in no time! Oh, the talent on him, the--"

"Okay, okay, Jesus," Steve cuts him off, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up out of his chest in the process.

"You should tell her I say hi next time you see her," Eddie isn't remotely deterred by having his little, lilting performance derailed. There's a softness to him that deserves a smaller space, walls less prone to echo.

"I will," Steve nods. His bags grow heavy on his shoulders.

"And you should chill out a little bit," he says, this time with the kind of glint to his eye that needs a bigger space, needs to be up on the stage to the point where it has Steve floundering, "y'know, about the the shitty dress that, between you and me," he leans in conspiratorially, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, "wasn't really all that shitty."

Steve sucks in a breath.

It strikes him somewhere old, the reassurance, somewhere young deep inside of him. The comforting from a mother that if he just works hard enough he’ll land that double tour in fifth some day soon, the unbroken promise that she would never give him special treatment as the son of the studio owner, but that she would never hesitate to reward him when he’d earned it on his own.

It strikes him because no one tells you how little reassurance the guy in charge is ever offered and it strikes him because it’s been such a long day and it strikes him because—

“Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

Eddie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead and Steve sees it, the attitude on this dude that his mother absolutely would have loved in an instant. There’s a performer in there, even just in the brief interaction they’ve shared so far. There’s a spotlight pointing inwards and a show begging to be dragged out.

“No,” Eddie drags out slow and curious, “you offering, ballet boy?”

Steve needs a sounding board and he needs another set of eyes and he needs his mom to be okay and the show tomorrow to prove that he can handle this for her if she’s not, but maybe what he needs most right now, on the other side of a spiral in a dark and echoing theater, is this.

“Meet me at Benny’s in thirty,” he says simply as he makes his way for the door. “Since you’re such an experienced test audience.”

Eddie’s responding laugh is bright and his eyes glitter with curious amusement and maybe this is what Steve needs because maybe all of this is one big rehearsal at a big new life in and old small town.

And maybe this is his chance to make a mess of it. At least until the real show starts.

[heytherecentaurs]

The Bad Parents would see Kristen in crisis, sort of in free fall, and all endeavour to help her. She's a kid who had to leave home because her parents are bigots. Then she moved in with her girlfriend's family (which thankfully is also her best friend's family). But do you ever think she was scared, even briefly, that she'd have nowhere to go when she and Tracker broke up? Like maybe in the back of her mind she wondered if the grace they'd shown her was because she was Tracker's girlfriend.

I think the bad parents would have rallied around her. Jawbone who knows how hard she's been grinding at school. Sandra Lynn who fully understands what it's like to be a young woman in crisis. (And who is used to dealing with Fig's special brand of bullshit; Kristen's problems might seem easier to tackle.) Wilma and Digby who are so kind and understanding but don't put up with bullshit and won't be pushovers. Even Sklonda who didn't want Riz's friends exploiting him, but you can't tell me she wouldn't hear from Riz that Kristen is Acing her cleric classes and crushing it on the campaign, and now you're telling Sklonda this girl who's really applying herself in shitty circumstances is being punished for it and on top of that it's going to effect her own kid's academics and future. Get the fuck outta here.

Kristen just needs one adult to march into that school with her and say "You're out of order." Like the school may be able to push around some kid and force her through hoops, but Sklonda or Sandra Lynn? No way. "You can't expel her. Kristen has perfect grades and is an active student in extracurriculars. What do you mean, 'She fails because her deity is dead'? Does Kristen still believe in her? Yes. Does Kristen still have her magic? Yes. How then can her goddess be dead? Last I checked Cassandra is a goddess of mystery. Just because you don't understand the mystery doesn't mean you have the right to punish Kristen for it. In fact combined with the cleric teacher's behaviour, this constitutes discrimination on religious grounds." Like... "Who's in charge here? You don't have someone qualified at the head of your administrative faculty? I'm going to have a class action suit brought against the school on behalf of the student body and you don't have Arthur Aguefort here to protect you."

Kristen needs an adult to reasonably address these issues on her behalf and failing that, an adult who will be mean.

Put me in a room with whoever you want from that school and I'll eat them alive. I'll make them cry. I don't care if Jace Stardiamond is evil or not. And I certainly don't care what big tent megachurch bullshit Bobby Fucking Dawn slithered out from. Fuck him and his Kentucky-fried drawl. I'll crush him.

(Side note: Kristen should have immediately begun whatever emancipation process Solace has because Mac and Donna should not be making legal and medical decisions on her behalf.)

[beautifuldisaster88]

Even after being together for three years, JJ still couldn't believe that he landed the hottest girl on the island, not to mention the kook princess. It blew his mind that a literal goddess worshipped the ground that he walked on, always saying that the Pogue could do no wrong in her eyes. She didn't care that JJ was a Pogue, living on the cut and barely scraping to get by, none of the materialistic bullshit meant a thing to her. As long as she had the blonde next to her and knew that he was hers, that's all she needed. It was no secret that she also worshipped the ground that he walked on.

Of course being the kook princess meant that she was in no way hurting for money. She always made sure that JJ and the rest of the Pogues had food, electricity and running water, even if they tried to tell her that she didn't need to spend money on her. This was her way of thanking them for welcoming her with open arms and not treating her like just another kook. She made sure that all the bills for the chateau were paid on time every month, ignoring John B when he told her that wasn't necessary. They were her family now, and she'd always make sure they were well taken care of.

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

She walked into the kitchen of the chateau, wearing one of JJ's shirts that hung on her small frame. You couldn't tell by looking, but she had her favorite bikini under it, and where others might not know that, the Pogues did. Rummaging through the nearly empty refrigerator and cabinets she pouted. She adored the Pogues but damn they were stubborn. She'd told them multiple times that if they needed food or anything at all, they were to tell her and she'd get it. It wasn't unusual for her boyfriend not to notice things like there being no food in the house, but she at least expected John B to let her know when the chateau got low on food.

"Jayj! JB!" She called out from the kitchen before making her way into the living room where her boyfriend and best friend were playing Xbox. Oh sure, they had no problem playing the video games she'd bought for the chateau, but God forbid they mention the lack of food in the house.

"Whatcha need, mamas?" The blonde asked his girlfriend, his eyes glued to the screen as he continued to play whatever game him and John B were playing.

"You boys are in trouble." She said sternly, placing her hands on her hips.

Both boys immediately looked at each with wide eyes, as though trying to figure out what it was they'd done this time to get into trouble with the kook princess.

"Whatever it is, it was all your boyfriend. I had no part in it." The Routledge boy quickly spoke up, setting the controller down to put his hands up in surrender.

"Dude! Way to throw me under the bus!" JJ exclaimed, a bit too dramatically. At least it tore his attention from the screen. His girlfriend just looked at him, watching him scratch his head as the gears turned. "It wasn't me this time. I swear, mamas. I've stayed outta trouble, don' wanna get grounded from that pussy again. Nuh uh, I ain't doing shit to be tortured like that."

"You're both idiots." She laughed, shaking her head as she walked over to sit on JJ's lap, caressing her manicured fingers through his blonde mop, knowing it made him putty in her hand. "Did you boys forget to mention something very important?"

Both of the boys racked their brains trying to figure out what she was talking about, the worry evident in their eyes. She let them torture themselves for a few minutes before finally speaking up.

"Food, dumbasses. You failed to mention that you ate all the food. How many times have I told you guys to let me know when you're running low on food? I can't let my boys go without food."

JJ's arms immediately wrapped possessively around her torso, not liking the fact that she called his best friend one of her boys, even though she always called all three of the Pogues her boys. Hell, everyone on the island knew that the three boys were her boys, two of them platonically and JJ romantically.

"He's not your boy, 'm your only boy." He mumbled, to which she ignored and just smirked at how adorable her boyfriend was.

"Sorry, kiddo. I just feel like shit that you're always spending money on us. I was hoping to make enough to put some food in here, but tips have been shitty lately. Half the kooks that I deliver groceries to refuse to tip a 'dirty pogue'." John B said, looking down at the controller.

"I want names. I'm about to go off on the kooks who refuse to tip you. Also, I've told you guys that I enjoy taking care of you. My money is also the Pogues money, whatever you need just tell me. Food being the top priority. We're going shopping for groceries, no argument."

JJ began peppering kisses down her neck, biting and sucking on her smooth skin, smirking at his masterpiece of little purple bruises on her neck. It was rare to not see her with love bites and hickey's, the Maybank boys way of marking what belonged to him.

"I happen to be starving, mamas, but not for no food you find at any store." JJ mumbled against her neck, his hand trailing down to her thigh where he squeezed, chuckling when she squeezed her thighs together.

"You can have your dessert, baby." She whispered in a seductive and teasing voice. "After we go shopping for actual food."

The blonde let out a dramatic sigh, giving her a look like a puppy who'd just been kicked. Picking her up as he stood from his spot on the couch, he snapped his head to look at his best friend, holding out one of his hands.

"I need the keys to the Twinkie, bro. Mamas here won't let me eat my favorite snack if we don't let her put food in here. Do you really want to deal with a pussy starved JJ? I don't think you do." The blonde exclaimed.

John B's eyes widened and he laughed, fishing in his pocket for his keys, before tossing them to the blonde.

"Definitely don't want that. I almost drowned you last time just to shut you up. No fucking in the Twinkie this time. Last time it took me over a week to get the smell of sex out."

"We'll behave, JB." She giggled in JJ's arms.

The blonde just smirked, winking at his best friend as he walked out the front door with his girlfriend in his arms, making John B shake his head.

"They're definitely going to fuck in my van again." He laughed to himself, picking up the controller and unpausing the game.

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

"Fuck... R-right there... Don't... Stop.." Her cries and pleas filled the inside of the Twinkie. JJ had her face down and ass up, drilling into her sopping cunt as he fucked her merciless in the back of his best friends van, unable to wait until they were back at the chateau.

"Doin' so good for me, mamas. That sweet pussy is tryin' to milk my cock dry." He groaned, slipping out of her, only to slam back inside her tight pussy.

The way she clenched around his cock told JJ that she was close. Reaching his hand down, he began rubbing her clit and applying pressure. She was a moaning mess under him, tear stained cheeks from sucking him off before he fucked her senseless. Fuck, she looked so beautiful being drunk off his cock.

"Look at my fucking beautiful kook princess, taking this Pogue dick like the good slut you are. 'm gonna fill that pretty little pussy with my cum. Ya want daddy's cum, Baby Girl? Hmm? Of course you do, fucking cum slut."

"m' gonna cum, daddy. Want your cum." She whined, starting to tremble under him.

JJ gripped her hair around his fist, yanking her head back to look at him. He loved watching her come undone and the faces she made when she came. His thrusts were sloppy, hinting that he was also close, but her release was more important to JJ. The blonde attacked her neck with his mouth, leaving more marks as he destroyed her sweet pussy. "Cum 'fme, mamas. Cum on Daddy's cock."

He wrapped a strong arm around her torso, supporting her body as she reached her high, throwing her head back and screaming out his name as she came all over his cock. Unable to hold back any longer, JJ released his load, coating her gummy walls in thick white ropes of his cum. He didn't stop thrusting in and out, wanting to make sure he fucked his cum deep inside her cunt.

After finally pulling out, he grabbed her by the waist and brought her against his toned chest as the blonde collapsed on the floor of the Twinkle. Both of them panting and sweaty.

JJ brushed the hair back that had been sticking to her face, admiring her beautiful fucked out face. It still amazed him how it was his cock bringing her pleasure, how it was his mouth marking her. He placed multiple small kisses all over her face and shoulders.

"You did so good, mamas. I love you." He whispered breathlessly.

"I love you, Jayj. Thank you , Daddy." She whispered back just as breathlessly.

"Ain't no way we're gettin' 'way with this one. The Twinkie reeks of sex. Least we got the food." JJ's chest rumbled as he laughed, making her bury her face into his chest with embarrassment, but at least she giggled.

"I'll make it up to JB by making my famous brownies and cookies."

"Special brownies?" The blonde boy asked excitedly.

"Mmm, yes. I'll make you a batch of special brownies, baby." She smiled up at him.

JJ looked at her with love and admiration, caressing the side of her face before leaning down to capture her lips. "Fuck, how did I get so lucky to have you?"

She giggled and shook her head.

"'m the lucky one, J. I'm the first girl who got you to commit."

"Damn right you did. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you and swore to do anything to make you mine. I was shocked as shit the first time I asked you out on a date and you agreed. I'm gonna marry you, mamas and we're gonna have little Maybanks runnin' round, causing havoc. 'm gonna save up enough money, get us our own place. It'll have to be here on the cut though, can't afford figure eight, sorry princess."

That made her scrunch up her nose. She didn't care about living on Figure Eight, as long as she was with JJ. Hell, she'd live in a cardboard box if it meant having their own place together.

"Don't care about living on Figure Eight, Jayj. Just wanna live with you. Think it's time I went from kook princess to Pogue princess... Long as Kie doesn't mind me taking that title."

JJ laughed, holding her close.

"You're the Pogue princess, mamas. Ain't no one else claiming that shit but you. I'll fight Kie for it if she even tries bitchin'. You earned that shit, Mrs. Maybank."

She melted every time he called her Mrs. Maybank.

"We better get dressed and get these groceries back to the chateau, Mr. Maybank. Cancel your plans for the rest of the night, cause mama plans on making Daddy feel good all night."

That's all JJ needed to hear. He quickly rummaged around the Twinkie, grabbing their clothes, laughing when he held up her torn thong that he'd ripped off. Thankfully she was used to him tearing her undergarments by now, even some of her clothes. Her bedroom was inpatient when it came to getting her naked, often resulting in him just ripping the fabric off of her.

After the two got dressed, JJ drove like a maniac to the chateau.

"Here's the food. You're job to put it away. Mamas is desperate for Daddy's cock."

Is all JJ had to say to John B when they walked in carrying bags of groceries. He sat them down on the counter, before grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to their shared bedroom at the chateau.

"Best clear your schedule for the next two to three days, mamas. You won't be walking right after I'm done with you. Bought to give you the Maybank dick special."

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hi hello! I’m not the person who originally submitted the ask for the Genshin/Honkai girls with a G Gundam-style chuuni S/O, but I’ll be fully honest that one hit my brainrot something good and fierce. So what about Xinyan, Dehya, Navia, Himeko, March 7th, and Stelle with the G Gundam Chuuni S/O?

(Genshin Impact/Honkai: Star Rail)

Xinyan, Dehya, Navia, Himeko, March 7th, Stelle, and Natasha with a very dramatic S/O

Part 1 here!

@jjovin3221, here is your part two, courtesy of others!

Also, March 7th's part has my absolute favorite image I've ever made for this blog.

Xinyan absolutely loves S/O's over the top attitude!

Not to mention they had some killer pyrotechnics! Both their visions may be Pyro, but her lover's put any flame to shame.

The explosion they'd create alongside the absolute raw energy they exuded from their shouts was enough to motivate her and her fans.

Plus they had an amazing stage name already: The King/Queen of Hearts!

But that being said, she finds them a little too intense at times. All they cared about was fighting, but she did appreciate they made time for her concerts despite that fact.

...Wait, their whole warrior schtick isn't just a stage Persona, was it?

==

Xinyan watched as S/O effortlessly blew through a horde of bandits with blinding kicks and punches.

She could only watch in silent awe while they rapidly leapt from one enemy to another, everyone powerless to stop their rampage.

With one final kick, S/O sent the last bandit tumbling down a hill, while they crossed their arms dramatically, headband blowing in the wind.

One of the ones knocked to the floor by their punch tried to crawl away, catching S/O's and Xinyan's attention.

(Bandit) "W-What are you?!"

(S/O) "You look upon a student of the Undefeated of the East!"

Grabbing their collar, they looked them in the eyes as they reached for something in their pocket.

(Xinyan) "...Uh, is that a picture?-"

(S/O) "Have you seen this man?"

(Bandit) "Wha...D-DID YOU ATTACK US JUST TO ASK THAT QUESTION?!-"

(S/O) "Answer me!"

(Bandit) "ACK! N-NO! NEVER SEEN HIM!"

S/O tossed the bandit behind him like they were made of paper, walking back to Xinyan.

(Xinyan) "...S/O, did you actually want to ask 'em a darn question this entire time?!"

(S/O) "I did. Does that bother you?"

Xinyan was stunned, blinking twice to make sure she was processing S/O's actions correctly.

(Xinyan) "...A-A little, yeah! Why the heck did we beat the tar outta 'em just for a single thing?!"

(S/O) "Hm. They started it. Let's get back to Liyue, your concert will start soon."

(Xinyan) "R-Right..." Man, they sure do got a screw loose...

Dehya had met many mercenaries that had something wrong with them throughout her career.

But her S/O took the crown for the biggest psycho she's ever met.

When she first met them, she knew they had a dangerous air about them.

What she didn't expect is for them to be able to blow every single thing they came across into smithereens with just their bare hands.

Sure, a Vision allows you to pull some crazy stunts, but how does it ignite your entire fist into a golden flaming sun, which allows you to blow up things as if they were pyro slimes?!

She fell for them because of the kindness they could display, and how reliable they were, but that was when they weren't going off the deep end.

And these days, that was getting increasingly rarer.

==

Dehya marched into the ruins with S/O, both of them approaching a group of eremites who were holding a girl hostage.

(Dehya) "There's a lot of them in there. What's our plan?"

(S/O) "Flank around the sides. I'll go in the front and save the girl."

Before she could formulate another plan, S/O walked ahead of her.

(Dehya) "Be careful..."

She then watched as the Eremites immediately shot at S/O with arrows from their flanks.

S/O suddenly crouched down with arrows inside of them, which made Dehya's heart stop.

The Eremite's laughter quickly halted when S/O stood back up, arrows somehow caught between every single one of their fingers, completely unscathed.

(Dehya) "...What?"

S/O suddenly threw every single arrow back at them, each of them seemingly lethal as they instantly dropped dead, despite the fact they went through non-fatal areas of their bodies.

(S/O) "COWARD! IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT ME, SHOW YOUR FACE AND I'LL CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"

(Dehya) sigh "I'm not even going to ask..."

Navia thought S/O was part of a theatre group from Inazuma, given how over the top they were.

She was horribly wrong, and she didn't know if that was a good thing.

But it certainly made life much more interesting!...In a fiery explosion and screaming kind of way.

But Navia didn't really think S/O any less for it. She loved every bit of them!

...Even the more psychotic bits that would make everyone flee in terror.

==

Navia's bodyguards watched nervously as Navia loaded her umbrella gun.

(Bodyguard) "U-Uh, I know S/O's reflexes are good but-"

(Bodyguard 2) "Even with non-lethal ammunition, this is REALLY dangerous!"

S/O scoffed as their arms were crossed.

(S/O) "Do you really think bullets can even touch me?"

(Navia) "They're right darling, this is a spreadshot weapon at point blank-"

(S/O) "Then the King of Hearts will show you all! HIT ME, NAVIA!"

(Navia) "A-Alright...Three, two, one!-"

(S/O) "SHINING, FINGER!"

BANG!

In what seemed like an instant, S/O's hand began glowing a bright golden light as it extended out, melting all the bullets she shot upon contact, not even a single one getting through.

Navia and her bodyguards were beside themselves, unsure of what they witnessed even happened.

(Navia) "HUH?! B-BUT-"

(Bodyguard) "HOW DOES THAT EVEN WORK?!"

(S/O) "Hmph! If you think what I can do is impressive, then you should see my Master."

(Navia) "S/O, PLEASE let me meet him! I want to ask him how he can just defy the laws of physics!-"

Himeko at first was convinced S/O was just some kind of actor hired to be a live-action representation of Welt's creations.

But no, they were just inside a Mecha-like suit they had created, and could do martial arts perfectly.

...A little too perfect, actually.

Himeko wants to research how the suit works, but she's pretty sure S/O would drive their fist into her stomach and make her explode if she attempted.

Just like every enemy they've come across.

But other than that? She's not exactly too bothered by their insane behavior.

In her travels, she's honestly seen worse. At least S/O uses their power for good, and heck, they even liked her coffee!

That was good enough for her!

==

Himeko and S/O were strolling through the streets before they were approached by a hooded man, pulling out a knife.

She was mildly concerned by the thug, mostly for them more than anything. After all, S/O was outside their suit.

If they called it down, there would be hell to pay.

(Thug) "Your lady looks rich, hand over all the credits you got, or I'll gut you both."

(Himeko) "Is that right? Well, if I were you, I'd put the knife away."

(Thug) "Wha-Are you stupid?! HAND IT TO ME!"

(Himeko) "Oh, we'll give you a hand, alright. S/O?"

S/O raised their fist into the air.

(S/O) "COME OOUUUUUUUUT! GUNDAAAAAAAAM!"

S/O snapped, and the ground behind them suddenly blew open, shooting debris into the air.

S/O's clothes suddenly changed into a black skin-tight suit of spandex, landing and robotic parts suddenly materializing around them.

The thug was completely shocked by what he was witnessing, while Himeko watched with mild amusement.

(S/O) "HYYYAAAAGH! HYAH! HYAH!-"

S/O was now encased inside their mech, quickly throwing punches and kicks as their machine stabilized and checked if their movements synced up.

Himeko had a blank expression, silently thinking to herself:

(Himeko) S/O has done that every single time they've transformed, and no ones' actually bothered to stop them...

(S/O) "HERE I GO!"

With their warm-up out the way, S/O's machine crossed their arms as it stared directly at the thug, eyes flashing green.

(S/O) "This hand of mine glows with AN AWESOME POWER!"

Himeko tried to contain her giggle with one hand covering her mouth as the thug began blubbering in absolute fear as S/O's hand lit up the entire alley.

(Himeko) "That's so cheesy-"

(S/O) "IT'S LOUD ROAR TELLS ME TO DEFEAT YOU!"

They immediately grabbed the thug's head as they squirmed, trying their best to make them let go.

(S/O) "SHINING FIIIIIIIIII-"

(Himeko) "Okay dear, you don't actually need to blow him up. I think he gets it."

The head slowly turned to Himeko before a sigh came through the machine, anticlimactically dropping the thug onto the ground.

(S/O) "You heard the lady. Get out of here before she hands you back to me."

(Thug) "AAAAAAAAGH, YOU FREAKS!"

They sprinted away, almost tripping themselves several times in the process.

(Himeko) "...You have got to tell me how that suit of your works someday. Where does it even come from?-"

(S/O) "It comes when I need it."

(Himeko) "...That didn't answer-"

(S/O) "And I'm not going to."

March loved the walking mechanical natural disaster that was S/O.

Did they even make remotely any kind of sense?

Aeons no, but what in this universe really made sense when you think about it?

March takes pictures of S/O all the time inside their suit, pulling off awesome attacks and hanging it on her wall. It made for some really cool wallpaper!

She also likes to steal their headband whenever they were outside their mech, as rare as it was.

March wears their headband and starts mimicking their voice, dramatically shouting in a low voice. It doesn't take her long to break character and begin laughing.

But nothing could top the moment their Master visited the Astral Express.

Upon meeting their disciple once again, the two immediately broke into a strange dance. One that March had to try. If she couldn't make something explode with her hands, then it was onto the next best thing!

==

Dan Heng, March, and S/O watched as S/O's master departed on a mechanical horse, standing perfectly upright on it, while inside their own mech suit.

(Dan Heng) "...That would certainly explain why S/O is the way they are."

(S/O) "Amazing, isn't he?"

(March 7th) "...Hey, S/O? Remember that thing you did with your Master? Do you think we can try it too?"

S/O's machine tilted its head as they responded to March.

(S/O) "Huh? Oh, the dance?...Sure, why not!"

(Dan Heng) "Uh, I think I'd rather pass-"

(S/O) "Don't be such a spoilsport! Come on: Undefeated, School of the east!"

S/O raised their fist to the middle, with March 7th quickly chiming in and doing the same.

(March 7th) "Winds of the King!"

Dan Heng simply sighed, knowing March or S/O wouldn't take no for an answer.

Finally relenting, he raised his own fist.

(Dan Heng) "Zenshin!-"

S/O retracted their fist and struck a pose, as if they were ready to begin fighting.

(S/O) "KEIRETSU!"

March leaped into the air and landed dramatically, pointing upwards into the air.

(March 7th) "TEMPA KYORAN!"

Dan Heng grabbed S/O's metallic fist as they traded places, extending their arms and connecting their fists.

(Dan Heng) "Look!-"

(S/O) "THE EAST!-"

March went to the middle, the three of them shouting in unison:

Stelle kept a straight face through all of S/O's shenanigans.

Watching them pose dramatically, witnessing their machine erupt from the ground before S/O magical girl transformed into it, dodging the explosions their fists created, all of it.

Stelle was more confused than anything.

Rules were made to be broken, but the rules of how gravity, physics, and heat worked too?

That was taking it a little too far.

She wants to know how they do it, but some questions were probably left unanswered.

==

S/O's mech crossed its arms, dramatically posing as it turned to Stelle.

A small army of malfunctioning robots approached them, threatening to attack the camp they were defending.

(S/O) "Hmph, there's too many to take them on individually."

She turned to him, eyes finally widening in surprise.

(Stelle) "Wait, you don't mean?-"

(S/O) "We have no choice! Launch me, just like how I taught you!"

(Stelle) "You can't just defy the laws of physics whenever you want-"

(S/O) "We have no time to argue, JUST DO IT!"

Stelle had performed some crazy plans in her time aboard the Astral Express, but-

Stelle took a deep breath and mimicked the crane stance, her baseball bat still in hand.

(Stelle) "CHOKYO!"

S/O went down on one knee, extending their fists.

(S/O) "HAOH!"

The two struck a dramatic pose in unison, exactly as how S/O's master had taught them.

(Both) "DEN'EIDAN!"

(S/O) "STELLE, FIRE!"

Stelle took a deep breath before swinging with all her might, with S/O suddenly leaping into the air, using her bat as a jumping point.

S/O roared out in fury, their mech spinning rapidly and turning into a tornado of red, blue, and yellow, blitzing a line through the robots, creating a single line of destruction.

Finally, S/O's mech flew up into the air, struck another pose with their feet and fists extended to one direction as if they were doing a flying kick.

(S/O) "ERUPT!"

On command, the entire army detonated at once, creating a beautiful ball of destruction as the dust cloud soared into the air, S/O slowly floating down next to Stelle.

(S/O) "HAHA! BEHOLD THE POWER OF THE SCHOOL OF MASTER ASIA!"

Stelle looked blankly at S/O, then back to the army they had destroyed together.

(Stelle) "...It's probably best I stop asking questions, isn't it?"

(S/O) "Yes!"

Oh Aeons above, S/O was a horrible influence on the kids.

Natasha does not have the mental capacity to deal with their insanity they brought with their mech onto the planet.

Hook and the others thought that S/O and their mech was the coolest thing they had ever seen.

The flashy red, blue, yellow, and white of their suit looked like an action figure.

And their warrior attitude definitely did not help things.

S/O had already made themselves notorious in the fighting club too, adding even more fuel to the fire.

She has to constantly tell the kids to not mimic her S/O.

Natasha loved them, but sometimes she wanted to slam her head against their mech in frustration.

They were great with kids, but seem to grasp no concept on impressionable children actually were.

===

Natasha treated the last of the patient's wounds, waving goodbye to them as they left.

She leaned back into her chair, taking a deep breath and finally relaxing.

Natasha opened one eye and saw that S/O's mech was standing completely still, clearly unmanned.

(Natasha) "...Strange, where is-"

She heard the kids all grunting in unison outside the window.

(Natasha) "...Oh no."

She leapt off her chair at a speed that startled some of the people inside.

Opening the door, she found Seele already approaching the clinic.

(Seele) "Nat, the kids!-"

(Natasha) "I know!"

She rushed past Seele, who quickly joined her as they rushed towards an open part of the courtyard.

S/O was standing in front of a large group of children, all mimicking their actions.

(S/O) "Put your heart into every swing! Your fists are the only way to convey how you feel!"

(Hook) "Yes, teacher!"

(Child) "S/O, do you think your Master could teach us too?!"

(S/O) "Hah! My Master would appreciate your enthusiasm, but-"

(Natasha) "S/O!"

S/O froze in fear, as did the rest of the children as every single one of them rushed to hide behind S/O.

Natasha sighed, looking at the kids, then back to her lover.

(Natasha) "What in the world are you doing?"

(S/O) "...Exercising-"

(Seele) "Really? Is that what you call it?"

(Hook) "S-S/O said they would show us the Erupting Burning-"

(Natasha) "Absolutely not! S/O, the clinic, NOW."

Seele took the kids behind her as Natasha dragged S/O out of sight.

(Child) "...Will they be alright?"

(Seele) "I don't think they will be, no."

...

(S/O) "Nat-"

(Natasha) "Do not Nat me! What are you thinking, teaching the kids such a violent move!?"

(S/O) "W-Well, I can't exactly say no to them-"

(Natasha) "Do I know it, S/O, but I don't need parents telling me their kids were trying to blow up something with their bare hands!"

(S/O) "...But I do it with the-"

(Natasha) "Don't you dare finish that sentence! If I find you trying to teach the kids your crazy moves again, I will make you explode next."

The Mech's head moved and stared at Natasha.

(Natasha) "AND YOU'LL BE FIRST IF YOU LET THE KIDS GET ANYWHERE NEAR YOU."

Both the mech and S/O stepped back in fear.

Honestly, S/O couldn't decide whether their master or Natasha was scarier.

...Probably Natasha.

[girlystories]

L'appel du vide (The call of the void)

— pairings: Henry Bowers + Patrick Hockstetter x female/daughter of a cop/new student reader

Summary: after your parents divorce (because your mom is kinda crazy) you move to your dads hometown, back to Derry, and your cousin richie. Additional warnings: depictions of animal cruelty, patrick hockstetter (enough said) Words: 3.5k

previous part here

next part here

Chapter 2: Bigmouth Strikes Again

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 wasn't in a good mood that day, to say the very least. His dad had dragged him early to school for some reason. He didn't know why, and he didn't care. What he did know is that it disturbed his routine. 

He usually woke up by his dad's noisy way of getting ready for work – groaning from the living room, where he slept, and he'd demand his morning beer. If he even bothered, Henry would eat something as he waited for Belch to pass by his house to pick him up – a farm located at the outskirts of Derry. He'd get on his seat – which was of course, at the front, and they'd talk shit. Like they always did, although Henry chose most of the time to remain silent, always too moody in the morning. On the ride they would blast music, driving recklessly around town while the townsfolk would shout curses at them to turn the damn volume down. 

But not today. And he was pissed. On the way to school he was resting on his seat with folded arms, looking out the window and refusing his eyes to meet his father's. 

When he arrived he was about to wait at the parking lot for Belch and the others to arrive, but his old man shot him a glare, and he instantly knew what he meant. With his head low, he reluctantly walked up the stairs, turning his head around and seeing his oh-so great son-of-a-bitch dad watching him like a hawk, his stoic and hateful eyes hiden behind his round sunglasses. 

How much he wanted to fucking punch him right then and there, but he knew he couldn't. He didn't want to admit it, but he was weak against him. He could never manage the courage to stand up for himself, proving his point in being a paper man.

To his utter luck, he was seen by the headmaster, not managing to sneak past his office. He was given a lecture about his attitude and lack of presence, as expected. 

When he was finally let to go, his immediate next destination was back outside to meet up with the others. It was the time they usually arrived, anyway. Ten minutes before the first bell rang and they had to attend their homeroom class. 

"What the fu–"

Just as he was about to walk outside the building he felt someone collide with his chest. If the many and unnecessary nuisances until now wasn't enough, this instantly managed to form a vein on his temple as he clenched his fist. Today was his unlucky day it seemed. He stopped himself from punching whoever it was just as he met the girl's gaze. 

They both shared the same look of surprise. He studied her from head to toe, from the way she styled her hair – which looked somewhat messy – to her slightly parted lips and unironed clothes. 

For some reason he didn't know what to say. She seemed... familiar, but he quickly knew she was new. He'd never seen her at any of his classes before, or anywhere else at school. Was she even the same age as him? His eyes then looked behind her to the distance, seeing the all familiar blue Trans-am parked at the usual spot. Their spot, to be in fact. 

He grounded his jaw, frowning his eyebrows, as he pushed past her, not caring a bit if he pushed her or something. He almost didn't notice Tozier hiding behind her, clinging on her jacket. He snorted at that. He'd mess with him later. 

"Get outta my way," he threatened. 

The others were resting their weight against the Trans-am, invested in their good ol' morning chit-chat, some smoking, some not. He approached them with his head low, staring at his shoes, his hands shoved inside his jean pockets. 

"Someone's in a good mood," Belch was the first to acknowledge him, noting his already grumpy attitude mockingly as he elbowed Vic to the side, who grunted in response and rubbed his side. 

Henry shot him a glare. "Shut your fucking mouth," he said and grabbed his pack, shoving a cigarette between his lips and searching for his lighter. 

"Fucking hell," he grumbled. 

Patrick handed him his significant zippo – which was probably stolen from his grandparents. Henry took it and lit his death stick, exhailing a satisfied cloud of smoke, happy for something to easy his nerves and tremendous headache.

"Thanks."

"Did your dad give you shit again?", Vic asked after a long pause. 

He didn't respond, taking another drag. "The headmaster saw me and wouldn't shut up again about the same ol' shit. Be careful in case he sees you too."

"Well, I don't think he has a problem with me. My grades are decent enough."

"That's because you're not afraid to cheat, Vic," Belch remarked. 

The bleach-blonde boy scoffed in response. "I don't cheat, asshole. I, for one, have a goal I want to pursue."

"So do I, smart-ass."

"What, you mean becoming an Olympic player or something?"

"Fuck you, man. You know damn well how much I want to make it to the American League."

"Whatever."

Patrick cleared his throat as he stared forward to nothing in particular, holding back a laugh, while Henry was about to start yelling at them to shut up from beside him. "Are ya done?"

"You're one to talk, Pat," Vic grumbled under his breath, folding his arms.

He looked at him for a moment, letting out a snort of laughter. The icy stare ignored by Vic who looked down as he kicked a stone with his boot. Patrick threw his finished cigarette and patted Henry on the shoulder as he eyed his watch, passing him and starting to make his way to the building's back entrance. He was always first one to separate their morning meeting, despite Henry being the self-proclaimed leader of the group. 

"Meet ya after class."

Without waiting for a response he pushed the door, walking slowly inside. He placed one hand inside his pocket, while the other ran through his mid-length hair that hang around his face. 

Henry's warning forgotten, he passed the principal's office with ease. Patrick rolled his eyes when he heard his name called just as he was out of view. He could just continue his way, pretending he didn't hear him, but allas, he walked into the office. 

"What is it, Mr. Corbin?", his voice dramatically switched into a much innocent one than he intended. His eyebrows lightly raised as he held his hands together in front of him. 

Mr. Corbin took off his eyeglasses, stopping his work on whatever papers he had held in front of him. "Your grades," he started, sighing as he captured his facade. "You've been held back one grade. Are you on your way to make that a yearly end goal? You need to step up, Hockstetter."

Patrick stared back at him, his eyes void of all emotion. He had had this conversation with his parents countless times before. It mostly began after 7th grade, when things got more serious. They would constantly nag about his future – especially his uptight and anxious mother. He didn't care really, only choosing to live in the present. He was mostly out of touch with reality, always going with the flow. If he would magically share a similar life like his parents, that'd be fine. If he ended up tossed aside and unsuccessful, then so be it. 

"I've also been informed about your attitude outside school. These aren't news, I'm afraid. You and Bowers lack motivation, without a care what you'll be doing with your life in the future." 

Patrick was always twisted from a very young age, despite him not seeing it that way. He would get that sort of thrilling feeling through his veins whenever he viewed any kind of discomfort on another, more so when he inflicted it himself. It was so intriguing for him, from the way that rabbit moved so rapid and swiftly, trying to get out of his grasp. When it's escape went unsuccessful it started to make noises. Patrick would study it with round eyes, which eventually were followed with a wide smile. At that age he didn't attempt to kill it yet, and let it go. He didn't see death as a real thing, until he stumbled upon a starved kitten, it's ribs visible and it's legs weak. 

He tilted his head as he stood over it, the kitty meowed at him, it's high-pitched cries filling his ears. At first he found it terribly annoying, but then he came to enjoy it. It was suffering without the care of its mother. He kneeled on the concrete and the small cat saw this as a welcome to come closer. He tried petting it for a moment and it started purring in a weird way. His fingers run along it's dry fur and he gave more attention on its neck as he grew bored. He stopped and he felt a rush of adrenaline when the cat started meowing louder as he grabbed its neck, it's legs trying to scratch him to get back down. 

The corners of his mouth quirked up in an eerily smile, his eyes shinning slightly. He felt the same feeling when he squeezed the rabbit long ago, but this time he didn't stop and increased the pressure. The kitty stopped moving and it's jaw hang open, it's yellow eyes wide – too wide. He had to compose himself for a moment, releasing his hands as it fell sharpy. He was a god. A chuckle left his lips but he stopped when he heard a hault of steps from behind him. 

It was a young boy that seemed of close age range by his height. He expected him to turn back around and run away, but he didn't. Patrick held a cold gaze. 

"What do you want?" he asked. 

The boy – surprisingly approached him. "What you did was pretty cool."

Patrick didn't expect that. He smiled again. "I do it all the time," he lied but it was mostly the truth. 

The boy looked at the dead cat, then at Patrick. "I'm Henry."

"I'm Patrick."

Henry grinned, revealing a missing tooth. "Cool, wanna join me and my friends? We're on our way to throw paper towels that old lady's house."

"The one with the crazy mole on her nose?"

Henry nodded. Patrick thought about it first. He didn't really have any friends, so this was certainly a change. 

"Sure, why not?"

After that he became a member of the group, soon to be the Bowers Gang. At first he wasn't as welcome, being one year older, but they became so close, they were particularly like brothers. 

Mr. Corbin dragged a hang over his features, a headache starting to form. He waved towards the door, finishing: "that's about it. If you and Bowers get send here one more time, I'll have to take drasting measures. You'll get a pass this time. Mainly because it's your first time, Hockstetter. Now get your ass to class."

Satisfied, Patrick fixed his slouched back and turned around. He instantly noticed the unfamiliar girl next to the doorframe, her curious round eyes watching their interaction with keen interest, like a show being presented for her. Only she didn't applaud, and instead stood there awkwardly. Though she didn't quite fear him, it seemed, but Patrick knew that he'd have to give a good first impression then. That'd change her image of him for sure, he mused. 

He walked out the office with long steps, slowing down only as their eyes met and he instinctively licked his lips when he saw that it worked. 

He didn't care in hearing what the principal shouted at him just as he made his way to class, his mind only on the new victim he found and how he'd proceed next. The corners of his mouth quirked up into that same eerly smile. 

 

   Just as soon as lunch period came, [Name] went to take a seat at a table in the cafeteria, grabbing with her a weird looking sandwich and a soda. The school food definitely wasn't considered a five star meal, but she didn't have much of a choice, since she forgot to bring her own food from home. 

She didn't really care much about not having anyone to sit with, although some company would be nice. She would go sit with her cousin and his friends but she couldn't really find them in this crowd. Despite the town being small, the school was pretty packed. 

Just as she was about to take a bite of her sandwich, she felt someone being pushed against her back. She groaned in annoyance and turned around, ready to cuss whoever hit her. 

She stopped when she noticed a boy trying to stand on both his legs, though unstable. In front of him was the large looking guy she saw with Victor in class before, who wore a hat and a sadistic grin. He was about to make another move on him but turned his head around when he heard his name from the other side of the room – Belch, [Name] heard and looked over at the origin of the call, who was an annoyed looking Henry Bowers. [Name] also noticed Victor and Hockstetter with him. As expected. She still couldn't believe that he was possibly one of Richie's bullies. 

Belch glanced back at the guy who was pushed on [Name] with a piercing glare, though he didn't pay any mind on her. He then turned around and left, going back with his friends, who pushed the door opened and left the cafeteria. 

[Name] looked around, wondering if anyone else saw the whole thing happened, but everyone just went on with their businesses, except maybe like three people, but they still said nothing. She raised a brow. Why didn't anyone do or say anything? Do they control the school or something? She couldn't believe it. People fucking sucked here. She looked back at him, who tried to wipe the dust off of him. His clothes were messy and hang around his body, but he quickly fixed them, along with his posture. He cleared his throat. It took a while for [Name] to notice they initiated contact, and she grew awkward knowing that she was looking at him the whole time. 

She decided to break the silence. "You okay?"

He rose his eyebrows – almost surprised – and tried fixing his brown hair, which was not as easy without the use of a mirror. "Uh, yeah."

The awkward silence around them rose once again as he stood behind her while she had her head still turned around. It was growing sore by the second and she drew a leg over the seat, taking a more comfortable position. 

"Who the hell was that?" she asked. 

He seemed more surprised, as his mouth fell agape for a split second. "Hold up. You don't know him?"

"Um, no?"

He let out a laugh, almost not believing her words. "You're joking, right?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "Should I?"

"I mean, no but-", he continued to stare at her with a look of surprise. "You honestly don't know of the Bowers Gang?"

She didn't know how to respond, then she said, "Well, actually, I'm knew here."

Her words seemed to bring some sort of understanding as he let out an 'ohhh'. Without asking he sat next to her and stook out his arm. "I'm Aiden."

She shook it. "[Name]."

He leaned against his palm, the edge of his elbow just barely touching the table. "So you're new, huh? How come of all places you choose good-old Derry?"

"I used to live here a long time ago," she said. "For now I'm living with my relatives while we search for a house to rent or buy."

"Relatives? Who? I might know 'em.'"

"I don't know if you do, but I'm Richie's cousin and –"

Aiden's eyes widened again. It was pretty amusing how easily surprised he got. 

"You're Tozier's cousin? As in Trashmouth Tozier?"

"Hey, I'd really appreciate you not talking bad about my cousin."

He ignored it, continuing, "No fucking way, dude. That guy doesn't know when to stop."

"So?", she asked as her eyes narrowed. 

He waved his hands dismissively. "No – I'm just saying. He's just a pretty easy target amongst the Bowers Gang."

Just as [Name] was about to ask more, a voice called Aiden from the distance. Two girls waved at them and approached them. 

"We've been looking everywhere for you," the blonde-haired girl said as she gave him a quick hug. 

"Fucking Huggins thought it was funny to push me while I was about to leave," Aiden rolled his eyes. "But he immediately left. I don't care either way."

"Ugh, just ignore them. They're just dumb."

The brunette's focus was at [Name]. "Hey, you're the new girl, right? I think we share English together," she pointed out. 

She titled her head, trying to recall seeing her. "Really? I didn't really notice you. Sorry."

"Oh, where are my manners?" Aiden said. "This is Jamie and Evelyn", he pointed first at the blonde then the brunette. 

[Name] shook their hands, while she revealed her name to the girls. "I'm new here," she added. 

"And she's Tozier's cousin," Aiden interrupted with a grin. 

[Name] sighed at that as she opened her soda. "I still wanna know about that Bowers guy."

The girls sat at the other side of the table, sharing a look and then looked back at her.

"Well, it's best to say to not mess with him or the rest of his gang. Unless you're unlucky then you're fucked. It's best to just not be an easy target," Everly said. 

"It's almost like the whole town fears them," Jamie added. 

[Name] raised a brow. "How come they target my cousin?", she looked at the boy next to her. "Or Aiden for that matter."

He sighed. "It's... a long story."

It would be a lie if she said she wasn't curious, but decided not to push it. "Okay, well," she said between bites, "They better not mess with Richie again."

Everlyn leaned close, "I don't think you're in control of that. I'd advice you to tell Richie to just avoid them as much as possible."

[Name] frowned at that, but she didn't say more. There was something she could do, right? She took a sip of her soda and licked her lips. 

Jamie nudged her friend's shoulder next to her, "Hey, let's invite her to Frank's party," without waiting for a response she looked back at [Name]. "Wanna join us on Friday? It starts at 8 pm."

She stopped chewing as she glanced at the three reluctantly. She really wasn't in the mood for that, wanting to relax the first week. 

"Come on! It'll be fun! We'll introduce you to other people. That way you'll make friends or something." She placed her hands together in a pleading manner, flickering her long lashes. "Pleaseee? Evelyn will give you a ride."

Evelyn shot a disapproving glare at her, mostly because she didn't bother asking first, but it went unnoticed by Jamie. 

[Name] shrugged. "Sure, I guess?", she rubbed the back of her head. "But I'll leave as soon as I get bored. I'm not really in the mood these couple of days."

Jamie rose from her seat and walked over to her, squeezing her into a hug. "Yay! I swear you won't get bored. And if it makes you feel better I won't leave your side."

   Evelyn was kind enough to give [Name] a ride back home, but she didn't really mind since she gave the other two a ride as well. She thanked her as she shut the door behind her, seeing Aiden wave at her while Jamie blew a kiss from behind the window. 

She walked in the Tozier residence and called out if anyone was home. She heard no response and she shrugged. Richie would be with his friends while her dad, and uncle and aunt would be at work. She threw her backpack and shoes off, going to the kitched and opening the fridge. Groaning at the vague options and the rumbling sound from her empty stomach she opted with a bowl of cereal. She sat at the living room, the blanket embracing her comfortably as she wore her pajamas. She should probably have better done her homework or study for that history test, but she really needed some sort of peace. She wasn't really paying attention to the movie, or the random commercials but she was almost shaken up by the sound of her door opening. 

It was her dad. He seemed to be in a really good mood – if the wise smile he had wasn't obvious he greeted her with enthusiasm. 

She quirked a brow, muching on her cereal. "Why so happy? Not that I mind."

He took of his boots, "We're having a barbecue tomorrow!", he exclaimed simply. 

"Huh?"

"Cancel any plans for tomorrow if you have any."

[oops-all-concrete]

I'm back with more BG3 COMPANION REACTIONS!

This time; Companions see Tav (yours/you) getting flirted with and being too shy/stunned to turn the person down and step in for them. As usual, the romance is only as implied as you would like! These can be read as platonic (but I'm happy to write romance specific posts if you lovelies would like)

Lae'zel -

The concept of flirting tires her. Why make eyes and small touches and idle chatter that eludes to a 'something else' if you can just get to the 'something else- immediately? Assuming both parties are interested of course. Unlike now, where Tav is failing miserably at saying no- because they weren't asked "May I taste your flesh and you taste mine in return?" With a roll of the eyes and a calculated stalk, Lae'zel makes her way over to Tav and takes them by the wrist, dragging them away. If she's stopped, she glares and speaks sharp: "Keep your filth to yourself. If they wanted what your company could achieve, they'd roll around in the mud with an actual pig."

Shadowheart -

Wyll -

She watches from afar with some amusement for a time. But- watching them stay seated several times when the "newfound company" kept getting up and seeming eager to leave- she was happy to put her wine down for such an occasion. "Pardon me, but myself and that one have somewhere to be tonight." She says, hooking her arm in Tavs. If pressed, she'll elaborate. "Well, we travel with a Githyanki warrior, the Blade Of Frontiers, a chosen of Mystra, and a cleric of Shar who's had to put down her wine to come over here and apparently repeat herself." She smiles innocently, though her voice is piercing enough to send the stranger walking backwards with their hands up.

He waits with stepping in, giving Tav the agency to say yes or no on their own accord, but as the stranger starts getting a little too familiar, he can't sit still. "Excuse me, I'm afraid my friend here isn't available this evening" He says, friendly but firm. Of course he's challenged- too nice about it- so he stops being nice. "I should have been more clear-" he starts, placing a hand on their shoulder- watching them become more afraid with the distinct crackle and glow of eldritch energy. "You're either leaving alone- or with me. In a bag." He says again, voice darker than usual. The stranger gets the message and Wyll watches them like a hawk out of the building. "Apologies Tav, I shouldn't have been so harsh. I just have a special distaste for people like that."

Karlach -

This woman jumps in the second Tav shakes their head. "Woah, woah, woah!?" She yells from the distance she is, a lot of the tavern pausing their conversations and looking her way. "Yeah, that's enough of that. If they wanted you as bad as you think, they'd have left with you already, yeah? Hands and unfortunate looking face to yourself" She says, cheeky smile on her face, but her hands itching to swing. Of course the person is embarrassed, especially when some giggles start coming in from the crowd, possibly Tav too, but Karlach knows they're safe with the entire tavern as witness. "Let's get outta here, Tav. There's more drinks and less weirdos down the street" She smiles smugly.

Gale -

He's quite socially eloquent when he wants to be, but knows how to be tactically rude as well. The minute Tav starts shuffling subtly closer to him to get away from this other person, he's inserting himself in the conversation. "Oh, you've got art at your home? I've been meaning to talk to another art fanatic, I've quite a few pieces I'd love to discuss back in my tower in waterdeep filled with wonderful architecture, sculpture, Baroque- Oh! Are you familiar with Oskar Fevras? I commissioned him personally a while ago-" he knows he's hard to talk over, and he takes full advantage. The minute the person tries to talk to Tav- Gale immediately gives them an out. "Oh! I just remembered- Tav my good friend! I believe I've left a ring in the bathroom on the sink while washing my hands" Gale talks fast, allowing Tav all the time needed to leave.

Astarion -

Oh this man is an actor. A few times he catches eyes with Tav- notably uncomfortable, and he rolls his red eyes. He disappears for a moment, but before Tav can think, he's throwing himself between Tav and the stranger. "Darling- This is where you've been??" He says, and you can hear the offence in his voice. Several heads turn. Bar staff is concerned. Oh boy. "I thought you said you'd quit drinking?? And here you are while I'm at home waiting! Look how late it is!" It's like, 4PM, and it makes the stranger frown, but Astarion is yelling again before he can be stopped. "And who are you?? Stealing my lover away like a bandit!" He throws his arms around and sounds on the verge of (fake) tears. Of course the stranger is out of there asap, Astarion taking their seat and drink, making himself at home. He smirks at them like a little shit

Halsin -

As polite and friendly as Halsin is, he can look rather intimidating when he wants. He's huge and he knows it, and while he doesn't like doing it, he will use it to his advantage. The minute he picks up on Tavs discomfort, he's a shadow over the pair. The stranger just has a look up at the druid and that has all the effect needed. "Apologies, I'm afraid you're in my seat. My friend was waiting for me" He smiles, arms crossed in front of him, a mountainous man. If they don't move immediately, he leans down to the strangers height, because of course he's much taller. "Don't worry about paying for your drink, I'd much rather pay for that myself than a bloody floor." He says, voice even and friendly, but a vein bulging out of his forehead.

Hope you've you've enjoyed! Who are you looking to for help in this situation? (I take requests, feel free to ask!♡)

[dewdropdinosaur]

I Guess I Fall Hard

HUSK X READER X ANGEL [Poly] Summary: The events leading up to my fic, 'Cocoa, Not Chanel' as requested by @little-bloodied-angel Warnings: Cusing, Allusions to abuse, hypersexuality, and spice. Rating: PG-13

Day 1: 

Angel Dust leaned against the bar, sipping a martini as the music of the club throbbed around him. His pole dancing show had just ended, and he was basking in the afterglow of the applause and whistles from the crowd. The bar was packed tonight, filled with demons of all shapes and sizes looking to forget their troubles in the smoky haze and neon lights.

Y/N sat at the bar, nursing a drink and trying to blend in. They were new to Hell, still trying to navigate the chaos and find their place. The bar was an escape, a place to observe and maybe, just maybe, find a connection. Angel noticed Y/N immediately during his earlier dance routine. Their presence was different, not as jaded or hardened as the usual patrons and most noticeably, had owl like features with plumage puffung out of their chest. He sauntered over, his characteristic smirk firmly in place.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he drawled, leaning on the bar next to them. "Enjoy the show?"

Y/N looked up, meeting his eyes with a shy smile. "Yeah, it was amazing. You're really talented."

Angel preened under the compliment, tossing his fluffy hair back. "Thanks, doll. Name's Angel Dust. What's yours?"

"Y/N," they replied, feeling a bit more at ease. “I”…uhh..am kinda new here.”

"Well, Y/N, welcome to Hell," Angel said with a wink. "It's a real shithole, but it has its moments."

Y/N chuckled, and Angel found himself liking the sound. They talked for a while, the conversation flowing easily. Y/N told Angel about their life before Hell, and Angel shared some of his own wild stories. They laughed together, the connection growing with each passing minute.As the night wore on, Angel found himself feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time: genuine warmth. Y/N's presence was comforting, a light in the darkness of his world. He hadn't expected to make a friend tonight, but there they were, sharing drinks and stories like they'd known each other for years.

"Hey, wanna get outta here?" Angel suggested after a while. "I know a quieter place where we can talk without all this noise.”

“Oh…I am not really looking for that kinda—“

“No doll face, I ain’t asking you for that kinda favor…tonight atleast~”

Y/N evntually agreed after making sure no funny business was afoot, and they left the bar together, stepping into the cool night air. Angel led them to a small, hidden park—a rare quiet spot in the chaos of Hell. They sat on a bench, the sounds of the city distant and muffled.

"You know, it's nice to have someone to talk to," Angel admitted, his usual bravado softened. "Most people just see me as the dancer, the entertainer. It's rare to find someone who actually listens."

Y/N smiled, touched by his honesty. "I'm glad we met, Angel. You’re more than just a performer. You’re... a new friend."

Angel felt a warmth spread through his chest at the word. "Yeah, a friend. I like that."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the dim stars in Hell's sky.

Day 25: 

The sun was setting over Pentagram City, casting long shadows through the windows of the Hazbin Hotel's library. Y/N and Husk were nestled in one of the cozier corners of the room, surrounded by stacks of old books. The smell of aged paper and leather filled the air, a comforting scent that spoke of countless stories and secrets waiting to be discovered.

Y/N carefully turned the page of a worn, hardcover book, the title embossed in faded gold: "The Picture of Dorian Gray." They glanced over at Husk, who with curous eyes, was attempting to the read the title of the novel. Holding it up to him, Husk gave what could have been considered a soft smile; one full of memory. 

Y/N smiled at him, their fingers tracing the delicate pages. "Oscar Wilde has always been a favorite of mine. His wit and the way he captures human nature... it's timeless."

Husk nodded in agreement, setting his book aside. "Wilde's got a way with words, that's for sure. 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' is one of those books that sticks with you. The whole idea of beauty and corruption, it hits home."

Y/N’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Exactly! And his plays, too. 'The Importance of Being Earnest' always makes me laugh."

Husk chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. "That one’s a classic. Wilde knew how to poke fun at society's pretensions. Sometimes I think if he were alive today, he'd fit right in here."

They shared a laugh, the bond between them strengthening over their shared love of literature. Husk leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from his ever-present flask. "You know, it's nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff. Most folks around here aren't exactly the reading type."

They continued to talk, sharing their favorite passages and discussing the deeper meanings behind Wilde's works. Husk found himself opening up more than he had in years, the walls he usually kept so firmly in place gradually coming down.

As the night wore on and the library grew darker, Y/N reached for another book. "You know, we should do this more often. It’s nice to escape the madness of Hell and just... be."

Husk looked at them, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I’d like that."

Day 70: 

Angel Dust and Y/N strolled down the bustling streets of Pentagram City, their laughter cutting through the chaotic noise of Hell. Today was a rare day off, and they decided to spend it shopping, a favorite pastime of both. 

"Husk, hurry up!" Angel called back to their reluctant feline companion, who was lagging behind, arms laden with clothes.

Husk grumbled, shifting the pile to get a better grip. “I “swear…no you get back here…fuck this shiny glitter!”

Y/N giggled and turned to Angel. "You think he secretly loves it?"

Angel smirked. "Oh, definitely. He wouldn’t be here otherwise."

They entered a nearby store, the racks filled with an array of clothing to suit anyone’s interest. Angel’s eyes lit up, and he immediately began rifling through the racks, holding up various items for Y/N to see.

"Look at this!" he exclaimed, showing off a spink parkly jacket. "This would look killer on you."

Y/N took the jacket, admiring the fabric. "I love it! And check this out," they said, holding up a pair of silver sequined pants. "Totally your style."

Angel’s eyes widened with excitement. "Oh my God, yes! We’re definitely getting these."

Husk trailed behind, dutifully adding the new items to his growing pile. He watched the two with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, their enthusiasm infectious despite his gruff exterior.

Angel and Y/N continued to explore the store, trying on different outfits and showing them off to each other. They discovered they had a remarkably similar fashion sense, both gravitating toward bold, flashy pieces that made a statement.

"Great minds think alike, huh?" Y/N said, twirling in front of a mirror in a shimmering dress.

Angel nodded, adjusting the feathered boa around his neck. "You know it, babe. We’re a match made in Hell."

Husk rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. Despite his grumbling, he enjoyed seeing his friends so happy. It was a rare sight, and he found himself appreciating the moment more than he cared to admit. After a few hours of shopping and countless outfit changes, they finally made their way to the checkout, Husk still carrying the mountain of clothes. 

"Thanks for being our pack mule, Husk," Angel teased, patting him on the shoulder.

Husk grumbled again, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make a habit of it."

Y/N gave him a grateful smile. "Seriously, Husk, we appreciate it."

As they left the store, bags in hand and Husk trailing behind with the last of the load, Angel slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. "We gotta do this more often. It’s been a blast."

Y/N nodded in agreement. "Definitely. And next time, Husk, we’ll treat you to something special for putting up with us."

Husk snorted, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "I’ll hold you to that."

Day 132:

The pulsating beat of the club music reverberated through the walls, and the dance floor was a sea of moving bodies. Neon lights flickered in rhythm with the music, casting colorful glows over the crowd. Angel Dust, Y/N, and Husk had decided to hit one of the hottest clubs in Pentagram City for a night of fun and letting loose. Angel and Y/N were in their element, moving fluidly to the music. They danced close, their bodies swaying in perfect sync, exuding a magnetic, sensual energy that turned heads all around them. Angel’s lithe form glittered under the lights, his moves confident and alluring. Y/N matched his energy, their movements fluid and captivating. It helped that they were of similar height, at least Husk thought, for them to be so in sync with each other

Husk leaned against the bar, nursing a drink and watching the pair with a mix of amusement and admiration. He was used to Angel’s antics and charisma, but seeing Y/N keep up with him so effortlessly was something else. Despite his usual gruff demeanor, Husk couldn’t help but feel a pang of something deeper as he watched them—something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. As the song shifted to a more seductive beat, Angel spun Y/N around, their laughter ringing out above the music. They were clearly enjoying themselves, lost in the moment, winks, hands touching lightly, it was a flirt fest of anyone had ever seen one. Husk found himself smiling, genuinely happy for his friends. Yet, the sight of them together stirred a desire within him to be part of that closeness.

With a deep breath and a resolve he didn’t quite understand, Husk finished his drink and made his way to the dance floor. As he approached, Angel noticed him and flashed a mischievous grin.

"Hey, Husky! Decided to join the fun?" Angel teased, twirling around Y/N.

Y/N turned to Husk, their eyes bright with excitement. "Come on, Husk! Dance with us!"

Husk hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Why the hell not?"

He stepped into the circle with them, and Angel pulled him in closer, their bodies moving together to the rhythm. Husk’s initial awkwardness melted away as he got into the groove, the energy between the three of them electric. Angel’s hands brushed against Husk’s shoulders, guiding him, while Y/N’s laughter and enthusiasm were infectious.

They danced together, the world outside the dance floor fading away. There was something special about the way they moved, a connection that went beyond friendship. As the music built to a crescendo, Husk felt a surge of courage.

When the song ended, and they found themselves catching their breath, Husk looked at Angel and Y/N, his usual gruffness softened by a rare vulnerability.

"Hey, I’ve been thinking," Husk began, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "How about the three of us go out sometime? Like, a real date?"

Angel’s eyes sparkled with surprise and delight. "A date, huh? I never pegged you for the romantic type, Husk."

Y/N beamed, their eyes shining with excitement. "I’d love that, Husk. I think it’d be fun."

Husk relaxed, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Alright then, it’s a date. Let’s make it a night to remember."

Day 175:

The warm, sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the hotel kitchen, mingling with the scent of chocolate and vanilla. Y/N hummed softly to themselves, their large wings fully extended as they mixed flour and butter, the feathers shimmering in the soft light. It was a rare sight, one they reserved for the privacy of the hotel kitchen, away from the bustling streets of Hell. Today marked nearly the one month anniversary of Y/N and their partner’s relationship, and being the lover of baked goods that they were, cookies were in order.

Angel Dust and Husk, having spent the afternoon lounging together, decided to check on Y/N. Following the heavenly smell, they walked into the kitchen, laughing and chatting, but their conversation halted abruptly at the sight before them.

“Whoa,” Angel breathed, his eyes wide with awe. “Toots, your wings… they’re beautiful.”

Y/N turned, a bit startled, their cheeks flushing. “Oh, hey guys. I didn’t expect you in here. I, um, usually keep these hidden.”

Husk’s usual gruff expression softened, a rare look of tenderness in his eyes. “You don’t need to hide them from us. They’re incredible.”

Angel approached first, his fingers gently brushing against the feathers. “So soft,” he murmured, his admiration clear. “Why don’t you show them off more?”

Y/N shrugged, a shy smile playing on their lips. “They’re just… big. Its a hassle to wear clothes and be around Hell.”

Husk stepped closer, his hand joining Angel’s in touching Y/N’s wings. “You should never feel like you have to hide who you are. You’re amazing just the way you are.”

The three of them stood close, the intimacy of the moment enveloping them. Angel’s gaze shifted to Husk, noticing a flicker of insecurity in his eyes.

“You know, Husk,” Angel said softly, “your wings are pretty amazing too. I bet you and Y/N could match sometimes, with all the accessories that they own.”

Husk’s wings, though smaller and more rugged, were a point of self-consciousness for him. He rarely showed them, preferring to keep them hidden under his trench coat.

“Yeah, right,” Husk muttered, looking away.

“No, seriously,” Y/N said, reaching out to touch Husk’s arm gently. “Kit, you’re perfect just the way you are, wings and all. And trust me, I have tons~ of wing jewelry to spare.”

Angel wrapped an arm around Husk’s shoulders, his voice earnest. “We like you, Husky. Every part of you.”

Y/N joined in, wrapping their wings around the three of them in a protective, loving embrace. “”

Husk felt a warmth spread through him, their words melting away the insecurities he’d held onto for so long. In this moment, surrounded by the two people he loved most, he felt a sense of belonging and acceptance that he hadn’t felt in years.

“Thanks, guys,” Husk said, his voice thick with emotion.

Day 203:

The cozy warmth of the hotel’s lounge enveloped Y/N, Husk, and Angel as they settled on the plush sofa. The soft glow of the lamp cast a comforting light, creating a serene atmosphere. Y/N and Husk had sensed something weighing on Angel’s mind for a while now, and they knew it was time to address it with love and understanding.

“Starlight, dear…we need to talk” Y/N spoke softly towards Angel.

Angel leaned back, a playful smirk on his lips, though his eyes betrayed a hint of uncertainty. “So, what’s the occasion, guys?” he joked, trying to mask his nervousness.

Y/N smiled gently, reaching out to take Angel’s hand. “We just wanted to talk, Angel. We’ve noticed some things, and we want you to know that we love you no matter what.”

Husk nodded, his usual gruffness softened by concern. “Yeah, Angel. You don’t have to put on a show for us. We see you, the real you, and we care about you.”

Angel’s smirk faltered, and he glanced between them. “What do you mean?”

Y/N took a deep breath, squeezing Angel’s hand reassuringly. “We’ve noticed how you use your hypersexuality to get validation from others. It’s like you feel you need to be that way to be loved or accepted.”

Husk chimed in, his voice gentle. “But the thing is, Angel, you don’t need to do that with us. We love you for who you are, not for any performance or act.”

Angel’s eyes softened, a mixture of relief and vulnerability washing over him. “It’s just… It’s what people expect from me. It’s who I…am”

Y/N moved closer, wrapping an arm around Angel’s shoulders. “We understand, Angel. But you’re so much more than that. You’re funny, caring, and incredibly talented. You don’t need to prove anything to us.”

Husk reached out, placing a comforting hand on Angel’s knee. “We love you, Angel, every part of you. You don’t need to change or hide behind an act to be worthy of love.”

Angel’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he leaned into Y/N’s embrace.

Day 205:

A few days later, after remising on their conversation, Angel looked up, his eyes meeting Y/N’s in their shared bedroom. “You know, you guys help me feel more like myself. And, Y/N, you should know that you’re amazing just the way you are too.”

Y/N’s bird-like features, usually hidden behind a composed exterior and glitzy clothing, softened as they looked at Angel. “I’ve always felt a bit…off, you know? It’s hard to accept myself sometimes. especially with the shit show of a private area I was given. Like couldn't have when I died been given the right fucking genitalia?@”

Husk nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. “We all have our insecurities. Hell, I am a fucking cat. But you’re incredible, Y/N. Your uniqueness makes you special, and I don't care about what's under your pants. Your personality, strength, and beauty are just things we love about you.”

Angel smiled, wiping away a tear. “Yeah, Y/N. You’re beautiful just the way you are. Those owl-like features? They’re part of what makes you you, and we wouldn’t change a thing.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through them, their heart swelling with the love and acceptance from their partners. “Thank you, both of you. I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

Husk pulled both of them into a tight hug, the three of them finding comfort and strength in each other’s presence. In the quiet of the lounge, they found a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, a reminder that they were loved and accepted for exactly who they were.

As the night wore on, they stayed close, talking and laughing, their bond growing stronger with every shared word and touch. In a world that often felt chaotic and unforgiving, they had found a sanctuary in each other, a place where they could be their true selves and be loved unconditionally.

[matchadobo]

KIDD; giving him flowers

summary: how he'll react when you give him a bouquet

warning/s: none, pure fluff, gn!reader

- it'd be a bouquet of red tulips

- he'd blush soooo hard. like he'll be so red he looks like he'll run out of air

- he'll be hesitant to take it

- once he'd bashfully take the bouquet and say thank you through gritted teeth

- "why the fuck are you givin' me this shit?"

- your face would soften when you hear him call the flowers "shit"

- his demeanor would shift immediately trying to salvage the situation

- "i-it ain't that ugly, b-but... you didn't have to. really."

- you'd smile at him and give him a peck on the cheek or neck (wherever you could reach) and tell him to keep it, telling him you want to do it for him

- he'll fondly tell you to shut up

- you'll get him smiling and shit

- the entire day he'd blush when he sees you or when he sees the bouquet lying on the window of his workshop

- his heart wouldn't calm down i'm telling you!!

- but he'd turn it to a competition tho

- you'll have a bouquet on your side of the bed the next morning with a note saying "you're not the only one who's romantic, short stack."

- there'd be one whole week where you two compete who'll give the bouquet first

- your crewmembers would suffer the most btw

- they'd each find you running first thing in the morning just to get to the flower shop first, raising a racket around the ship at buttcrack dawn

- at the end of it all, he'd come and meet you at the deck during the night when you two unanimously stopped the shitshow

- "you refuse to give up, huh?"

- "you're giving me more reasons to love the shit outta you."

- "if this is what it takes, i'll happily give you a fuckpile of bouquets."

kinda wanna make one for könig :(