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#the bear???? what the fuck that's was so awesome
camellia-thea · 6 months
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so.... i finally started watching burrow's end
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guys look at my husband isn't he awesome
(featuring e.rika and s.aburo)
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dirt-str1der · 1 year
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This but its kiryu majima and saejima
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toastsnaffler · 9 days
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this assay is so fucking fake......
#same one ive been working on for like 3 months. every other assay ive trained on took me a couple goes to get but ive done this one ~45x#and i keep getting 2 good runs and then 1 fail. which SUCKS bc i need 3 passes in a row to sign off on it#and its so sensitive that changing even tiny things like using a different brand same volume beaker. or a 0.5cm longer flea#anyway i had another 2 good runs this week so this was my 3rd but bc its a friday afternoon im tired as fuck and keep making dumb mistakes#like overstirring it + one of my samples leaked which is soooo embarrassing bc ive already had to ask for more before bc its taken me-#almost 50 fucking attempts already#anyway. hour and a half into prep and im at the most crucial time sensitive part which is pipetting thr enzyme into the substrate#and i manage to do it all w even time spacing (u have to replicate the exact same pace at the end of the timer or it doesnt work)#and then realise id picked up a different identical model pipette that was set to half the volume i was meant to put in FUUUUCK#by that point i was like fuck it im almost 2 hours in and nothing else to do the rest of the day. so ill work around it + see what happens#i figured well its half the volume. so if i add the same half volume again at the 5 minute mark and leave it for 12.5 instead of 10 mins#then itll hydrolyse the substrate to the same degree. IN THEORY in practice this stuff never works bc of error margins etc#bearing in mind this js like 30 seconds of thought bc it took me a couple mins to realise what i did#but the thing abt working in a lab is u make these split second decisions constantly bc everything is so time sensitive#so u have to be quick thinking on ur feet#anyway long story short got to the end of the 3 hour process. which i was carrying out v sloppily bc the chances of it working were-#slim by that point lmao. but lo and behold it was completely fucking fine. all cvs less than 5% and averages <5% of spec#which is awesome bc it means after THREE MONTHS and like. 45x3 whats that AT LEAST 135 HOURS OF FOCUSED TIME ON IT#not counting attempts i gave up on halfway thru bc id alreaady fucked them up bad#i can FINALLY sign off on it lmfao. but im just so mad like why does it play these mind games with me. it shouldnt have worked#whatever chemistry is such a fickle stupid science. anyway wahoo weekend time baby#gorgeous weather here + im gonna get pizza on the way home...... maybe life doesnt suck sometimes 😇#mutuals if ur still at work stay strong soldiers#.diaries
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Eddie is gushing about Steve to Robin and he mentions how it's so fucking metal the way he never shies away from danger. Like, quite the opposite, he literally jumps right into it without a second thought!
And suddenly Robin remembers how Steve wanted to be tortured by the actual real Russian secret service if it meant that his then friendly coworker who he never saw outside of Scoops would be at least a little bit safer. And she notices for the first time how Steve always makes sure that everyone is safe before he leaves a dangerous place - how he makes sure to always be the last one - and she thinks fuck.
(She feels so fucking bad. He is her best friend. Her soulmate. The person who knows her best and vice-versa. How has she never noticed this before?!)
They start paying closer attention to him, then. Neither like what they see. Steve's eyebags grow bigger with every day that passes. He doesn't eat a lot. He can never say no to others, no matter how much it inconveniences him. And when Robin and Eddie gush about what an awesome person he is, he gets an uncomfortable expression on his face and denies it. Robin had never noticed how most their interactions were self-deprecating jokes until now, either.
They need to stage an intervention.
The next time Steve walks through the doors of Family Video, Robin and Eddie are ready. They lay down all the facts and propose a simple deal: either go talk to a professional, or they will explain everything to the rest of the party and they will force him to talk to a professional. It will end the same way no matter what he chooses, might as well take the path with least resistance.
The only thing that sounds worse than paying a stranger to talk about his feelings is to be forced to talk about them to his friends, so he agrees.
He doesn't think it will make a difference, at first. It's not like he is allowed to talk about monsters and other dimensions.
The first session is awkward. But Robin and Eddie always look at him with such worried and expectant looks and he cannot bear to burden them in any way, so he starts opening up more. He can't talk about the time he almost got eaten by Demogorgons in a secret supernatural underground tunnelsystem, but he can talk about the time Billie almost beat him to death. He can't talk about the secret Russian operation beneath the mall, but he can talk about almost dying in the "mall fire". (His memories of his time there are all scrambled because of the drugs, anyway. It is more about the 'near-death' thing and never being able to feel safe, which he can talk about)
He doesn't mean to talk about his interpersonal relationships at first. But then his therapist cautiously asks him about his parents, and before he knows it he is spilling beans he didn't even know needed to be spilled. He talks about how he only seems to be friends with people who went through traumatic experiences with him, and what does that say about him? He talks about when he first realized that other kids are not left behind by their parents for months at a time. He finally starts unpacking the whole Nancy situation and realizes, wow, turns out he isn't nearly as over the whole thing as he'd hoped. (There are a lot of tears).
He seamlessly fills session after session, and at first he doesn't think that it makes much of a difference. Until the kids meet him after he is exhausted from a double shift at Family Video and beg him to drive them somewhere or other, and he can say no and not give in without fearing that they will cast him aside.
(Robin and Eddie are smug when they also notice the changes, but Steve supposes they have earned it this one time.)
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wynnyfryd · 6 months
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Trailer Park Steve AU part 5
part 1 | part 4
“…Henderson? Oh, holy shit, Henderson!!”
Eddie sounds like a kid on Christmas morning as he comes bounding across the street, movements like a great dane tripping over gangly limbs. He barrels into Dustin and tackles him in a great big hug, swings him off the ground in a circle and puts him back down so they can do some elaborate handshake with slaps and switchbacks and an ending tap-tap of their ankle bones.
What the fuck?
Steve watches this whole thing go down with his hands on his hips and his face doing something horribly sour because seriously what the actual fuck? Stupid handshakes with Henderson are his thing.
“What are you doing here, man?” Munson asks Dustin with a jovial pat on the back. Dustin’s squeezing him around the middle, tucked into his side like a little kid hugging a giant teddy bear, face just lit the fuck up with excitement over this. Steve feels his nostrils flare in a brief flash of petty rage.
“Steve!” he shouts happily. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re neighbors with Eddie?”
Eddie’s face falls when he looks up and sees Steve. Feeling’s mutual, dickwad.
“You’re here to see Harrington?” He asks in a voice like flat soda, all the earlier enthusiasm sucked out into the void. He takes a tiny step away from Dustin — just the smallest bit of distance, a subtle lightening of his touch against his shoulder — but Steve doesn’t miss the flicker of hurt that passes between Dustin’s brows. As if he needed another reason to hate this guy.
“Uh, yeah?” Dustin asks, confusion coloring his tone. “He’s my brother.”
“He’s your what?”
Steve’s chest swells with pride. “He said I’m his brother.”
“Not my blood brother,” Dustin clarifies, and Eddie makes a little noise. “But yeah. He’s fucking awesome. And you’re fucking awesome—”
“Language?” Steve tries for Claudia’s sake, but Dustin’s on a roll now, getting louder and more exuberant as he starts talking with his hands.
“—And oh, holy shit, this is the best! Wait ‘til I tell Mike and Lucas about this. With you guys living so close, we can hang out all the time! And we won’t even have to make two bike rides!”
Dustin leans in to squeeze Eddie in another hug, so stoked he’s bouncing on his toes a little (so stoked he doesn’t even bother to ask Eddie if it’s cool if the whole party shows up at his door, but that’s Dusty for you). His face is turned into the front of Eddie’s shirt, and over the top of his baseball cap Eddie gives Steve this look that Steve’s pretty sure he returns. Serious. Somber. Resigned. A fucking gallows stare, because…
Because fuck. Fucking- goddammit.
They’re gonna have to pretend to tolerate each other now. For Dustin.
Steve’s left eye starts to twitch.
“Are you selling him drugs?”
“Excuse the fuck outta you??”
Okay. Yeah. Bad start. Backtrack. Steve knows this is not the right way to approach a conversation, especially not when it’s Saturday night and you just interrupted your neighbor’s house party to be an accusatory dick to him. The Munson trailer door is wide open behind Eddie, and Steve can see a couple guys he vaguely recognizes from school sitting in the living room — a chubby white dude, a nerdy black guy, and a baby-faced kid with a scowl to rival Mike’s. They’re eating pizza and smoking cigarettes and sipping some cheap-ass brand of beer, and Steve is clearly interrupting.
“Sorry,” he tries again.
“Wow,” Eddie smirks. “Didn’t know you knew that word.”
“Shut up, man- just— ugh.” He takes a deep breath, wills himself to stop rolling his eyes at the guy he needs to ask a favor. “I’m sorry, okay? Can I just talk to you for a second?”
Eddie considers him for a moment; chin tilted up, lips pursed; and then he steps onto the porch and shuts the door behind him. “I’m listening,” he murmurs around a fresh cigarette, hand cupped around the end to light it.
He holds the pack out to Steve. “You want one?”
“Do I- what?”
Eddie shakes the box for emphasis. “Do you want one?”
“No, I heard you, I just…” The weird ceasefire between them is tripping him the hell up. He doesn’t think it’ll go too well if he says that out loud, though. “…Yeah. Fuck it. Thanks.”
“Sure.”
They smoke in silence for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, looking out into the dark of the woods that kind of freak Steve out if he lets himself look too long. Something about the branches like long, spindly fingers in the dark; like jittering spider legs; like a Mindflayer made of—
“You wanted to ask me something?”
Steve rubs his brow with his thumb, lets the panic out on a slow breath. “Yeah, I just… Look, I’m not trying to— I mean, I shouldn’t accuse you of anything, man. I just spent the afternoon getting myself all worked up thinking about it after he left, and- and Claudia needs me to look out for the kid, so—”
“Who the hell is Claudia?”
Steve tilts his head at him. “Dustin’s mom?”
“Oh.”
“I thought you two were close.”
Eddie shakes his head, curls bouncing around his shoulders, “Nah, man, not yet really. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the little guy’s cool and all — smart as shit, too—”
“Isn’t he?”
“Fucking genius. He’s gonna cure cancer or some shit, I swear.”
Steve catches himself smiling; hides it behind another quick puff of smoke.
“Anyway,” Eddie says, “I don’t really, like, know the dude. We just met because I run Hellfire.”
Oh. “The DnD club?” No wonder Dusty’s obsessed.
Eddie shoots him a look, a quick blink of pleasant surprise. “Yeah, exactly.”
“Cool. He loves that game.” Steve pulls in more smoke, takes his time on the exhale; lets the nicotine buzz swim in his veins. He forgot how nice it feels. “So yeah, Claudia— his mom—asked me to look out for him, y’know? And I just, I know you used to supply the weed for my house parties and shit— and it was good quality shit and all but I don’t—”
“Hold on,” Eddie says, snorting a little in disbelief. “You think I’m gonna sell weed to Dustin?”
Huh. “You wouldn’t?”
“Hell no! One, he’s way too young; that shit’s, like, bad for young minds or something, allegedly.”
Steve frowns to himself, thinking back to him and Tommy smoking weed in Tommy’s basement in middle school; the brain damage they probably gave themselves doing it. Whoops.
“Secondly, can he even smoke? I thought he was sick or something.”
“What? Why would you think he’s sick?” Oh, shit, is he sick? Does Steve not know about it because he missed all those family dinners?
“Dude, take a breath.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand, wafting smoke in pretty tendrils under the trailer’s flood light. “I just meant, like, chronically. ‘Cause of his bones and shit?”
“Oh,” Steve breathes, relieved. “Oh, yeah, no, he’s fine, he’s just like missing collarbones and stuff; he can bend like Gumby.”
Eddie laughs at that, dimple popping out, and Steve can’t help but laugh a little, too, remembering the last time he told someone that. “Don’t tell him I said that, though, he’ll get pissed.”
“Scout’s honor,” Eddie salutes.
“You a boy scout, Munson?”
“Nah, Harrington. Just figured you were.” His eyes are bright and playful, sort of magnetic as he drops the last of his cigarette and stubs it out with the toe of his boot. “Anyway, I gotta get back to the boys. You wanna stick around for a beer, or are you satisfied with my answer, Nanny Steve?”
“Okay, do not fuckin’ call me that,” Steve laughs, sharp and short. Tries to season the words with a glare, but Eddie’s face is too impish and pleased to hold on to any real anger. “And I appreciate the offer, but I think your friends would try to kill me.”
“Mm, yeah,” Eddie agrees, wiggling his fingers as he waves a hand to gesture at the whole of Steve. “Gareth is not exactly a fan of your kind.”
Aaand he’s pissed again. Jesus Christ. “My kind?”
“Yeah. Jocks? Rich assholes?” His lips tip up in a crooked smirk, “Or, well—”
“Don’t.”
Steve’s just done with his stupid jokes suddenly, and Eddie must hear how much he means it because he raises his palms in surrender and steps back. Always stepping back and away, this guy. Fucking coward.
Steve doesn’t know why he reacts like this, but the shame is turning to fiery fury in his gut, curdling his blood like sour milk, pricking hot at his lash line. Damn it; he’s not about to let Eddie Munson of all people see him cry.
He scoffs at himself, shoves his hands into his pockets. “Whatever, man,” he sniffs as he turns his back on him, “Enjoy your party. Screw you.”
The most pathetic part, Steve thinks to himself as he writhes and twists in his tangled, sweaty sheets; 2am and he’s up again after a nightmare because of fucking course he is; is that somewhere between the insomnia and guilt over the way their conversation imploded earlier, his staring-blindly-at-the-ceiling-until-his-eyeballs-start-to-burn morphs into, like, daydreaming about how it could have gone.
He keeps repeating the scene in his mind, rewinding the tape to let it play out in richer detail.
It goes like this:
1. Eddie comes over.
2. Eddie comes over and apologizes.
3. Eddie comes over in the middle of the night to apologize because he’s so, so sorry that he just can’t wait until morning, even though it wasn’t really his fault; no, Steve’s the sorry one; no, Eddie is; no, they’ll both agree to do better, for the kids.
4. It’s two in the morning, after the cars are all gone and the party’s died down, and Eddie comes quietly across the yard; taps gently on Steve’s window so he doesn’t wake his mom.
Steve leans out and snaps, “What?” because he’s still a little pissed, and Eddie makes big, contrite eyes and plays with his own hands; fingers dancing in nervous circles; spinning rings.
“Listen, I, uh—” Eddie begins, “I might have… Shit, man, I might’ve been a bit of a massive dick earlier, and seeing as we have to play nice on account of the kiddos, I— do you- I mean— come have another smoke with me? Please.”
Please.
Please.
Please.
It’s a pleasant dream. Steve rewinds again, lets it play out in his head for a few more loops. Falls asleep just as he’s getting the dialogue right.
When he wakes up, Munson’s van is gone.
They don’t talk again for weeks.
part 6
tag list got absolutely outta hand lmao and i can’t tag some of y’all bc of your privacy settings, so sorry if i didn’t tag you but here ya go i did my best 🩷 follow the tag #trailer park steve au for future parts. @steves-strapcollection @discorporatedmess @questionablequeeries @nburkhardt @disrespectedgoatman @a-little-unsteddie @thedragonsaunt @ledleaf @perseus-notjackson @devondespresso @loop-deloo @annabanannabeth @thewyvernkore @callas-shitshow @sentry-nest @aliea82 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @steddie-as-they-go @insominaticthoughts @lofaewrites @crazyhatlady86 @gothwifehotchner @potent-idiocy @discount-izukumidoriya @hbyrde36 @goldensnitchbcs @mightbeasleep @lawrencebshoggoth @beckkthewreck @silversnaffles @dawners @hellion-child @stray-bi-kids @iswearitsjustme @ilovecupcakesandtea @slowandsteddie @gaysonthefloor @pennyplainknits
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novantinuum · 3 months
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Steven's Breakdown Was Inevitable From the Very Beginning
I feel like the thing that fucks me up the most about Steven Q. Universe and how well conceived he is as a character is that the fundamental building blocks of why he reached his breaking point in SU: Future were laid out as clear as day in the span of legit only the first four episodes of the original show. The writing was literally always on the wall that future him would struggle with matters of self worth and identity in relationship to the others around him.
Let's take a look:
Gem Glow
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"Awesome! What are these things?"
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Foundational Trauma #1: Steven's home is always either under threat or actively being wrecked by antagonistic forces/beings, and he constantly copes with this by pushing down his fear in favor of a curiosity and silver linings based mindset.
Look at his initial shock when he opens the door and gets tackled by one of these things, and then his response when one of them spits acid:
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The kid's freaked the hell out about all this, and while I do think there's a part of Steven that genuinely IS curious about what these lil critters are, I think he's subconsciously using that curiosity as a way to distract himself from his own fears and anxieties. This is Steven actively learning how to ignore the deeper problems in favor of emoting a facade to the others in his life that he can totally handle himself in scary situations like these.
The underlying reason why is incredibly apparent, when you look at the example from the next episode-
Laser Light Canon
"I don't know what a magic lady like her ever saw in a plain old dope like me..."
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Genuinely- from the bottom of my heart- I think the above quote from Greg is a moment where his own insecurities around the Gems actually rubbed off on Steven.
At this point in time, Steven may be living with the Gems... but he hasn't started to harness any of his powers at all, so in his own head he might as well be the same as his dad- another human, just one who happens to have a gem! But the way Greg talks about himself... given Steven was living with him in the van for years before moving in to the beach house, he had to have heard negative self-talk from his dad like this before.
And then there's the rest of the Crystal Gems... always speaking of Rose with such reverence as if she were an all-powerful goddess... and Steven can't help but look back at himself, and his gem that won't work... the gem that the others still identify as Rose's...
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"Your gem-! You have Rose's gem!"
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And maybe he starts to wonder if- without any working powers- he's just a plain ol' dope like his Dad, too.
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"Please work... Unlock! Activate! Go! Please-!! Everyone's counting on you, you can't just be useless!"
Foundational Trauma #2: Steven has Rose's gem, and as such, is constantly living under the silent expectation to live up to a standard that he simply cannot ever hope to achieve, because he doesn't KNOW her and he never will.
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I want to highlight one of Steven's expressions while his dad is talking about Rose- look at that sad look. My god, I just wanna hug him. This is the expression of a child who has already come to terms with the fact that his only relationship with his mom is through the rose tinted stories that other people tell him about her.
Cheeseburger Backpack
So. Steven has learned so far that he needs to push down his feelings and emote a false veneer of cheer and bravery even when he's afraid, because the rest of the people in his life have expectations and hopes for him due to the legacy of his parentage and he can't bear the thought of letting them down. (And in a sad way, at this point "letting them down" literally just means... being an ordinary human boy. I believe Steven at this stage of the show is flat out scared to be human, because to be human is to fail at being a Gem, and no amount of love and sacrifice in the name of humanity in the seasons to come could've ever saved him from the fundamental fact that the wedge between him and this whole half of his being was already drawn long before the events of season 1 even started. But I digress.)
Let's see where we go from there. Let's check out Steven's first "mission." Or as Pearl puts it about 35 episodes later, his first "test."
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"Yeah... they can't all be winners."
This episode is tinted with a little bit of tragedy for me on rewatch, because I genuinely do think the Gems handled the situation as well as they could've. They were supportive of Steven's successful ploys, and (for the most part) responded with grace when he majorly blundered and left the Goddess Statue at home. The main problem, however, is that Steven has already developed a bit of a complex about impressing the three of them-
Foundational Trauma #3: Even when they claim otherwise, Steven has convinced himself that affection from the Gems is transactional, and that when he messes up he's not truly a part of the Crystal Gems.
Of course we the audience know this isn't true- I mean, hell, Amethyst even said as much in episode one after her slip-up ("and you're fun to have around, even if your gem IS useless!")... that the Crystal Gems wouldn't be the same without him. But Steven... the poor kid is a complicated little guy living a complicated life, and whether they intended it or not, the language used they've used around him thus far has not backed up their attempts at fully embracing him, human parentage and all.
Thus, Steven just spends the entire episode wracked with anxiety trying to find creative non-power using ways to make the mission easier so he can convince them he's useful to have around.
Look how nervous he gets even when all three of them are visibly and vocally supportive of his presence here:
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This is the face of a boy who feels like he's under constant judgement and scrutiny from those around him.
Blessedly, viewing this episode in isolation, he experiences a brief moment of mental respite where he finally accepts the Gems' encouragement and agrees that his ideas 'can't all be winners,' but this lesson does not stick for him moving forward. A shame, really.
Together Breakfast
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"What's the matter, Steven?" "I wanted us all to have breakfast together, so I made Together Breakfast! But everyone keeps leaving..." "Oh, that's nice..."
Taken in context with what we've learned already in the last three episodes, Steven's desperation to spend quality time with the Gems here and his sadness that they keep leaving him alone doesn't just exist within a vacuum. He spends the whole morning watching them shuffle in and out of the temple, or come back from missions he wasn't invited on, and with the disastrous result of the LAST mission he went on probably fresh in his mind it's not hard to understand why this bothers him.
Foundational Trauma #4: Steven internalizes that the price of "not being useful" is that the Gems actively ignore him, meaning that the only way to guarantee their attention is to work as hard as he can to become a stronger member of the team.
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I know this screenshot is usually used as a lighthearted meme, but I wanted to include it because I think it's a good example of how Steven's intense desire to impress permeates every facet of his personality at times. Just LOOK at how desperate he is to make Garnet laugh at his joke, to be the one that's at very least "fun to have around," as Amethyst put it in episode one.
The Gems do eventually drop what they're doing to spend time with Steven by the conclusion of this episode, but this only comes after Steven shows his growing strength and "proves" himself by saving their butts from the breakfast monster.
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If he successfully gained their attention in literally any other way he might've come away from this episode with a different lesson, but no. Instead, his fears were proven true- the Gems value strength and utility, and if he's not exhibiting that, then what use is he to them?
These fears of his can be seen weaving throughout the foundational fabric of the entire show, but I think Steven lays out what he sees as his "stakes" in the clearest way possible in the episode 'An Indirect Kiss.'
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"But- if I don't have powers, then I can't hang out with Amethyst, or Garnet, o-or Pearl, and- I-I can't go on missions!"
And these same insecurities even rear their ugly head as late as the movie.
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"I can't believe this... for the first time in years, everyone's in danger, everybody needs me, and- I'm useless!"
Powers = Utility = Worth = Other's love, for Steven. Everything is transactional to the end, which is a hilarious double standard he's set for himself when he's made his reputation as the kid who always listens and encourages and gives others a chance to change, no matter their messy history with him.
__
So let's recap and restate those foundational traumas from Steven's perspective.
One: The only way to cope when your life is constantly under threat is to bury the damage and pretend to be fine.
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Two: Everyone expects you to live up to the standards of someone you're not.
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Three: The Gems only love you when you're of use to them.
Four: If you ever stop being useful, the Gems won't want anything more to do with you.
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In sum, Steven's habit of burying his feelings for the benefit of others was there from the very beginning, not just since 'The Test.'
Those unreachable standards he felt so daunted and intimidated by all his life were the ones set by Rose, at first... but over the course of the series, the dynamic of this shifted. As Rose's influence fell into the background, Steven's rose into the front. And so it's with great irony that- by the time of Steven Universe: Future, the expectations this exhausted, worn down teenager is fighting to once again achieve are the ones HE set for himself. Many of young Steven's selfless actions during the war are quite admirable when analyzed in isolation, but almost none of them are sustainable. He set himself on fire just to save the world, but teen Steven is genuinely unable to see this for what it is yet- as a tragic sacrifice of his own childhood. You can't burn your own ends for others forever, not at all. His breakdown was simply inevitable.
When it comes to the interconnected beliefs three and four, these are exactly why the ultimate confrontation at the end of I Am My Monster HAD to be one fueled by selfless love. Steven is at his absolute lowest at this point- he's everything he fears he's become, trapped in a form that's nearly incapable of reason. He's big and angry and spiky because that's a part of the facade- because a part of him WANTS to scare the Gems away, wants to be left alone forever, believing this the fate he deserves as price for his misdeeds.
In this form, by his own definitions he is NOT useful to the Crystal Gems at all.
But they don't care.
Because it never WAS about Steven's 'usefulness' to them, they simply love him for being Steven.
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With this in mind, the conclusion of Steven Universe: Future wasn't just a salve to teen Steven's immediate struggles, it was a salve to the foundational insecurities that have been plaguing him his entire life.
And hopefully... from this point on... his family's shows of love and encouragement will be enough to finally convince Steven that he's more than worth their time...
No matter what path the future leads him on, and no matter what form he takes.
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hirukochan · 8 months
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Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut
Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.
Severus and his sunshine
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Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader
warnings: Smut, loss of virginity
Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)
Read on Ao3 or below the cut:
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“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle. 
It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!
“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.
“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”
“You’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.
You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink. 
Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour. 
One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.
This you can’t seem to figure out. 
He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war. 
Emotions are not Severus’ thing.
His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.
He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.
You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready. 
“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”
“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd. 
He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie. 
Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.
But not in a bad way.
He looks good. 
Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.
His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.
So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend. 
You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.
Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.
Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.
You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.
You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work. 
You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.
Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.
During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.
You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.
“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.
“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.
“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”
“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint. 
“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.
“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.
“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.
Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you. 
“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-
“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.
“As I said - I am here with someone.”
“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”
“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.
That’s right.
Severus is different.
He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.
“Let’s leave, Sev.” 
“Come on, gorgeous!”
“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”
“Sev.”
“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”
“She does not need you for that-”
“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that. 
The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!
Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.
“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.
“Mh.”
“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”
“Drop it.”
“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”
“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”
“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.
“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”
“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”
“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.
“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.
“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”
“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”
“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.
“He made you cry!”
“Why does it matter?!”
“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean. 
Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.
“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.
“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”
“I thought you’re tired.”
“Say it.”
“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”
“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.
“You sound like a spoiled child.”
“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”
“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.
“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad. 
“Black’s a bastard-”
“This is Warren all over again!”
“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.
“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”
“I-”
“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it. 
You have always been Severus’ safespace. 
He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting. 
Why can’t he tell you this?
Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod. 
You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.
You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.
“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”
“Sunshine-”
“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings. 
Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver. 
“I love you.”
You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely. 
Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.
“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. 
You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner... 
And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-
“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”
“You love me?”
“I love you.”
“I thought you love Lily.”
“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”
Severus loves you.
Has loved you for years.
Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.
Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.
Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips. 
As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him. 
You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.
Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.
Everything is good.
“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you. 
He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.
“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.
He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?
“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.
“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.
Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.
The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.
“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.
“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”
“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”
“You’re here…”
“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.
“Warren-?”
“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.
“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.
“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”
“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”
“Me?”
“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”
“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.
“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile. 
He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.
You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.
“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.
“Severus-”
“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”
“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.
“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”
“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.
“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”
“It will.”
“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.
“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you. 
You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.
You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.
“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.
“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.
He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.
“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.
Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.
He loves you.
You still can’t believe it. 
“Sev!”
“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.
“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans. 
“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.
He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.
“Sunshine-”
“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.
“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.
When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.
But he’ll never lose you.
You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”
“It’s your first time I will not-”
“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”
“Sun-”
“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”
The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.
“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind. 
Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.
“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.
“Sorry-”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.
Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long. 
It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure. 
Severus is not good with words.
But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.
“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.
To you he is worth it.
He always was and will always be.
You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.
“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.
He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.
“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”
“Sev-”
“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder. 
You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.
Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.
“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.
“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.
“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.
“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”
“Hmm…very metal.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Why’d you get it then?”
“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.
“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”
“Idiot.” You giggle.
“I’m going to cum-”
“Cum inside me.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.
His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.
“Severus!”
“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”
“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises. 
Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.
Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.
You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.
Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.
“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”
“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.
“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow. 
“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”
“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw. 
So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.
“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”
You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you. 
You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.
You send an owl to Dumbledore.
You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.
Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.
“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.
“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”
“Together?”
“Together. I love you, Severus.”
“I love you too, Sunshine.”
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j4gm · 8 months
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SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 2: SIMON PETRIKOV
Let me know if I missed anything!
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First of all the title sequence is fucking cool. I don't want to speculate about the various things we see in it, like the apartment getting blown up or the Fern tree growing into its 1000+ version, because I'm sure the show will get round to all that!
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The first scene was an awesome reintroduction to the post-apocalypse, showing us the dynamic between Simon and Marcy. The button popping off Marcy's dungarees was a reference to young Marcy's first appearance, Memory of a Memory, when she removed one of the buttons herself to fix Hambo's eye.
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Simon was show playing a live set at Dirt Beer Guy's tavern in Obsidian. It seems they've gotten to know each other quite well over the past twelve years. Dirt Beer Guy asks Simon if he's read his new book draft, about a character called Joe Milkshake who was first mentioned in the episode Root Beer Guy.
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Despite the fact we saw Jake in the trailers, Finn and T.V. pretty much confirm in this scene that Jake is dead, and has presumably been dead since before Obsidian. I guess Bronwyn wasn't the only Jake descendant who Finn took on as an apprentice, but T.V. doesn't seem all that into it. The Finn and Jake we saw in the trailer are likely from an alternate universe that we have yet to see.
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Finn uses his weed whacker to cut through these bushes. A nice way of showing he's fully recovered from his Fern guilt. The focus here is very much on Simon's problems instead of Finn's.
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Finn parts with Simon to go and visit Huntress Wizard. The nature of their relationship remains ambiguous and I expect it to stay that way.
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Simon has the Island Lady from The Party's Over Isla de Señorita in his phone. I guess they reconnected after he became Simon again. He also has Abracadaniel. I always liked Ice King's friendship with Abracadaniel and the rest of the Order of Giuseppe so I hope they're still friends!
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Cute Bubbline scene. Back in the episode Bonnibel Bubblegum, Mr. Creampuff suggested he and PB get matching tattoos. Now she's (trying to) do the same with the girl she's chosen rather than some guy who was chosen for her! Also Marceline is using the same phone she's been seen with in a few previous episodes, including Go With Me and Be Sweet.
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I think the flying human city is called Up-Ton.
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Choose Goose! He keeps coming back! And he's evil now! People were joking about him being the antagonist of Fionna and Cake after that weird post-credits scene in Wizard City and the fact he was in hell in Together Again. I wasn't expecting that to actually come true. Glob knows why he's hanging out in a cage in Simon's house.
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The pattern of GOLB's eyes is reflected in Simon's glasses during the ritual. He is doing the same dance that Betty was doing to summon GOLB in the finale.
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Among the objects in Simon's GOLB shrine are the Farmworld Enchiridion, the flying carpet that Simon stole from Ash and was later frequently used by Betty, the crocodile clips that Betty used for her magic rituals, two effigies of GOLB, and what looks to be the shell of the snail who was seen throughout the original series.
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In this credits sequence, Fionna and cake are dreaming about the mask being worn by the bear than Finn slew, and a butterfly with a smiley face on it. Perhaps symbolising Finn?
Tune in next week for episodes 3 and 4!
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adultbabystories · 10 months
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To other people, you and Daddy seem like any other gay couple. Meeting friends, attending music concerts, eating in restaurants, and doing all the adult activities. Nobody knows about what happens behind closed doors. It’s your own private thing.
A month ago you and Daddy went to a gay bar to have a few drinks and meet friends. The music played your favorite songs, and the vibe was awesome. So many hot guys around. Some had great faces, some great bodies, some even both. But there was that one guy, that one you couldn’t get your eyes off.
Maybe it was the drinks, but you said to Daddy out loud “Look at that guy! God what would I do to him…”
Daddy looked at you strangely. You never talked like that, and he never did as well. He shrugged and you both continued as usual.
A week from then you went out to the same bar. The music was great yet again, the drinks were great yet again. The vibe was right, the guys were hot, and then you saw that guy again over the bar. You couldn’t get your eyes off him. This time you said nothing, you felt like Daddy wouldn’t like it. You turned your head towards him and understood he saw you were looking at the guy. With a quick move, Daddy passed by you and walked around the bar and to the guy. You were in a bit of a shock, looking at Daddy talking to the guy. They were chatting, then laughing. After two minutes Daddy brought him your way.
“There now, meet John” Daddy introduced him to you.
“Hey?” you said awkwardly.
“Nice to meet you, we’ll chat another time cuz’ I have to go. Cheers.” John said and left in a rush.
“Hot guy right? Man, what will I do to him” Daddy said and winked.
Three weeks have gone by since then. It was a nothing special Friday night. Daddy decided to stay in for the night. No bars, no restaurants, no friends. It’s been a busy time lately and he thought it will be best for you to just stay in, having an early bedtime in your nursery. He thickly diapered you with a few overnight diapers, chose the biggest pacifier you had, and even locked your hands with mittens. Daddy wanted you to have the babyish night ever. He left the nursery’s door half open just before he went to watch a movie in the leaving room. It was still a bit early so you were just half asleep when you heard knocks on the door. You got paralyzed in your crib. This never happened. Nobody ever saw you as a baby, or even being around the house when you were babied. You sucked your pacifier anxiously. Daddy started to talk, then you heard the other person. You listen well. You couldn’t believe it, Daddy wouldn’t do it to you, it will be too much.
They talked and talked, then you heard footsteps that ended in Daddy’s bedroom, which was your bedroom not too long ago. Chatting turned to kissing sounds, then sucking sounds, then fucking sounds and moans. Daddy and the guy had amazing sex while you lay embolized in your crib. Hugging your teddy bear, you were too afraid to make even the smallest move so you wouldn’t make the slightest noise. You don’t want them to come over. You were overwhelmed. It was humiliating and degrading. You felt like Daddy used your words to degrade you inside your own home. You were so ashamed you started to sob silently, tears covered your face and pacifier gag.
The sex noises stopped and you heard the water running from the shower.
“Put on some clothes and bring your phone, I want you to meet someone” Daddy yelled.
‘No please’, you thought, ‘Don’t bring him here’.
Daddy came into the room, smirking, coming for the crib rails, he was about to put them down.
“Oh wow, what I did to him” he said, teasing you, choosing those exact words.
There he was, John, right behind him, holding up his phone, pointing at you, only the crib’s bars were hiding you.
None of them knew, because of your thick layered diapers, that you had the most raging hard-on ever. It started when you heard John’s voice an hour ago, you felt the diaper become sticky from oozing pre cum once you heard them fucking, crying made you even hornier, and then when he held his phone, recording you, after he had sex with your man, you thought you were about to cum.
Daddy just put his hand over your diaper and you released the biggest load ever into your waiting diaper. “Oh, hush now, you just came in your diaper after daddy had sex with someone else who’s taking humiliating pictures of you? It’s okay to keep on crying, Daddy knew what you needed”
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@bilbng86 's one comment led to something he couldn't ever imagine!
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bellerocks4 · 25 days
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The boy and his hats!!!!! Look at them all :D
This is like a little counter-part to the one i did of Six's masks. Also I rated the hats, which i will go into more detail about below the cut ;P
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The Classic, The Original, The Paper Bag!!!!
I have like an emotional attachment to this hat, i kid you not. My favorite by far, he just looks so good <33333
5/5 hats
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....Ball
Gonna be real with you, i hate the way this hat looks in game. I made it look good because I'm awesome but for real he looks so fuckin goofy in this hat, it has its charm but still
1.5/5 hats
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✨Rain Cap✨
I don't love love this hat on him but i can't overlook the fact that he matches with siiiiiiixx thats just sO CUTE GAH!! Twinsies,,,
3.5/5 hats
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Postman Cap!!!
Kay i actually love this hat on him it's hella cute, lost points because its fucking HUGE in game. Like how is that thing not eating his whole head jfc
4/5 hats
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Mokujin Mask
This is a pretty good hat i just,,, don't get the reference,, if there even is one???? maybe its a historical kind of mask hm- ok no i just looked it up, it is a reference. Anyway, yeah good hat overall but im not the target audience so
2.5/5 hats
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Flat Cap! or Gatsby Cap, the way superior name
I love this hat so much he looks so cute in it, like i didn't even do it justice its so cute
5/5 hats <3
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Nome <3
ok yeah I took some liberties with this one, this isn't really what it looks like in game. but that's because the in game version looks kinda lame so i made it better <3 Minorly disappointing after the wild goose chase i had to go through to get it >:(
1/5 hats :(
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Hunter Hat :D
First hat in the game, it's ok,, i just think its a bit boring is all. I favor hats that cover his whole face anyway so im a bit biased. The tail is fuckin adorable tho, i love the way it trails after him :)
3/5 hats
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Stuffed Bear Hat of evil
ok when i said i favored hats that covered his whole face i did not mean this one- I did amazing drawing it✨ but its horrifying in game. Which i assume was the point, so kudos ig, but this is my personal how much i like it scale and the bear's ugly >:P
1.5/5 hats
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....
I... its- .... *starts crying*
5/5 hats
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Tin Can Hat
Ok when i said that I favor hats that cover his whole face I meant this one <3 Got that charm from the paper bag but he kinda wonky. So cute :D
4.5/5 hats
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Mummy Hat
Listen- its cool ok? cool and creepy but cool. If you haven't guessed already all my favorites are hats he looks cute in and this? yeah this ain't it...
2/5 hats
OK!! Thats all folks!!! Thanks for indulging my silly little hat scale <3
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perpetualfox · 10 months
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Whoa dude, I love your work mate! I was wondering if I could ask for a NSFW König x female reader, where he comes back home from a long mission, that lasted several months, and sweetly (but with passion) absolutely RAILS his wife. I would me most grateful! Keep up the awesome work!
Language Lesson - König x Fem!Reader [NSFW]
Warnings: Manhandling, Semi-Rough Sex, Creampie
Wordcount: 2521
Well. This got away from me a little bit. Please forgive how long this took and any grammatical fuck ups in the German. I'm still learning (and lowkey using this as practice since I have no one to speak with lmao) (also thank you so much <3 I'm so glad you're enjoying these)
→The mattress groaned as König shifted his weight, bearing down upon you, pressing your body into the plush memory foam. He revelled in the glory of it beneath his battered knees. After so many months sunk deep into mud, and dust, and blood; after so many months catching sleep where he could—in the back of a transport, on the cold metal benches of an evac helo, or the cold, hard ground—he could hardly believe something so soft even existed.
→You on the other hand, he could believe in. Every dip and curve of your body was etched into his memory; burned against the backs of his eyelids. You had graced his thoughts during every precious moment of downtime and haunted his dreams at night. But those echoes were nothing when compared to you—the living, breathing you who looked at him like he hung the moon and stars each night, and bid the sun to rise in the morning.
→How lucky he was, how privileged, how honoured to have you like this: to growl against your throat, his teeth bared against your flushed skin. How blessed he was to strip you naked and marvel at your beauty, to have you to himself—all to himself. He pressed forward, crowding you against the headboard, his hips slotting against yours as though they had been made to do so. His cock lay heavily against your stomach, already flushed and leaking.
→Always so eager.
→You had missed that terribly in the months since he’d been deployed.
→You had missed everything about him—the way he loomed in doorways, always uncertain if he was welcome in to sit with you; the way he held your hand in public, his thick fingers flexing around yours, grip tight: a lifeline and a warning; the way he snorted when he laughed, blushing to the tips of his ears as he did so, and burying his face in his hands.
→You missed the way he always left the grocery shopping to you, but wouldn’t allow you to lift a finger in the kitchen; the way he sat on the bathroom floor while you bathed, his back braced against the side of the tub, long legs splayed out on the tiled floor, just listening to you chatter on about your day; the way he curled his body around yours at night, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, murmuring about what he’d like to make you for breakfast in the morning.
→Even the things you hated about him, you missed—the way he always left his boots right in the middle of the doorway: in the perfect spot for you to trip over them later; the smell of his cigarettes and how he thought he could get away with smoking them indoors so long as he opened a window first; his complete and utter aversion to putting his dirty shirts in the hamper. Then there was the way his tongue sharpened when something put him in a mood; his tendency toward catastrophizing even the most trivial problems when he could not solve them for you immediately; the sulking; the jealousy; the territorial possessiveness; the paranoia.
→You missed it all. The memories were not enough, the few short phone calls he’d managed were not enough—memories and phone calls couldn’t hold you, couldn’t satisfy you, couldn’t fill the empty parts of you. It wasn’t enough to know that he was alive. You needed him home.
→His fingers tightened around your thighs, nails biting into your flesh as he dragged you down, pinning you beneath him. His face remained tucked into the crook of your neck, but his hands were busy, one kneading at your inner thigh, the other guiding himself toward your entrance. He pressed himself against you, warm and thick, the length of him slipping against your slick folds. The crown of his cock bumped up against your clit, and you gasped, nerves sparking.
→“Mmm, babyyy, no fair! Don’t tease!”
→You felt his breathy chuckle more than heard it—a warm puff of air ghosting across the side of your neck. For a moment, he was still, stamping heavy, open-mouthed kisses against your flesh. Your skin felt too tight—overwarm and buzzy. You needed him. Now.
→The breath fled from your lungs in a heavy rush when, at last, he pushed forward, the blunt head of his cock stretching you open for the first time in months. You grabbed for him, hands clutching desperately at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. God, you’d forgotten just how much of a stretch it was to take him like this. The burn of it licked at you, thrumming through your quivering thighs and up into your belly. Your fingers could never come close to the sheer girth of him, nor could they reach as deep as you needed them to—as deep as he could.
→“Scheiße…” The word was little more than a hiss, slipping out between the tight clench of his teeth, “Du bist sehr eng…ich hätte zuerst deine Muschi dehene sollen…”
→His English came back slowly when he’d been away for so long. Though he had been teaching you, and you’d been improving in leaps and bounds, with your brain leaking out around his cock, you were hopelessly out of your depth. He could have said anything to you—threatened your life, called you names, read out his to-do list, or the numbers in a phonebook—it wouldn’t have mattered. Not when he sounded like that. His voice, usually breathy and nasal, had taken on a new tone: fuller and deeper. He always sounded, to your ear, more confident in his native tongue, no matter how excellent his English was. You loved his voice no matter the language it spoke, but there was something about that self-surety that always sent a shiver through you.
→He groaned as he rocked into you, working you open around him little by little. The sudden gush of your warm arousal aided the slide of his cock against your walls. The slick sound of his movements was mortifying, and yet you could do little else but whine, your voice caught high in the back of your throat, “Ohh, fuck, please!”
→When at last he had sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you, König stilled. Your thighs shook, trembling with the strain and overstimulation. He was so big, his cock nestled up against every spot that lit your nerves on fire. After months of poor substitutions, you were finally, blissfully fucking full. Your pussy clenched tight around him; you were so close already, your body thrumming with the promise of it. Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your breastbone—dimly you wondered if he could feel it too, throbbing beneath his chest and around his cock. Surely, he was deep enough for that.
→His lips brushed against the junction between your neck and shoulder. He trembled against you, shaking with the effort it took to hold still; to not simply hold your hips down and take you like an animal—rutting into you until you were a sobbing, writhing mess beneath him. What a pretty picture you’d make pinned beneath him, his cum leaking out around his cock as he fucked a third or fourth load into you.
→You stared up at him, eyes wet and wide—uncomprehending. His hands slid up your body to cup your face, thumbs stroking gently against your heated cheeks. His lips ghosted against your own, warm and wet as he spoke, his tongue tripping over the words as his brain struggled to form a sentence you could better understand. “Let,” he panted, his hips kicking impatiently forward, burying another inch of his cock inside of you, “Let me hear you whine like I taught you, yes?”
→You swallowed hard, dimly catching his meaning, but struggling to remember a single thing he had taught you. The hours you’d spent curled up in his lap, tracing the prominent bow of his lips as he spoke, trying (and often failing) to mimic the sounds he made seemed wasted to you now—a distant dream, the details of which you could no longer recall.
→“Um…­b-bitte…uhh…” Your brain sputtered and sparked, trying desperately to think around the rhythmic clenching of your cunt and the sheer heat of his cock inside of it. You could feel him throbbing—a steady thrum pulsing beneath the frantic beating of your heart, “Ich…Ich…möchte d-dein…mmm…schwarz—no! Schwanz!”
→A peal of laughter, dark and deep shuddered through you, rattling your bones and making your head swim, “Lange nicht gut genug. Nochmal.”
→He kept rocking into you in shallow little thrusts, stopping just short of the spots where you needed him most. Your thighs were shaking. You couldn’t think, you could hardly breathe. There was no room left inside of you for anything but him…
→“Nochmal!” The command rang in your ears, and he snapped his hips forward. The tip of his cock brushed against a spot inside of you that made your vision blur, the world tilting around you. You sobbed, nearly coming undone around him then and there, but with that single thrust, he ground to a halt. His cock pressed relentlessly against that spot, but it wasn’t what you needed—he wasn’t moving. It wasn’t enough. You writhed beneath him, desperate for stimulation, desperate to cum. Your cunt throbbed around him for it, but he had asked something of you, and you wouldn’t get what you wanted until the request had been satisfied.
→“S-Sei…gentle? Gentle…” You wracked your brain for the word, trying desperately to ignore the pulsing need that lay nestled between your thighs. “Ah! Sanft! Sei sanft mit m-mir!”
→König’s cock twitched inside of you, the sound of his language falling so prettily from your lips was almost too much for him to bear. A low, purring chuckle rose from the back of his throat, his hips grinding forward. Stars burst across your vision. A mewling cry escaped your lips as your nails dug into his flesh, leaving red welts in their wake as you clawed at his back.
→“Besser, aber nein, Schatzi.” He leaned down, scraping his teeth along the column of your throat, the salt-tang of your sweat blooming across his tongue. “Ich kann nicht, vor allem nicht jetzt.”
→He surged forward, taking your thighs in his hands and forcing them wider apart, pushing them back over the tops of your hips. The cold metal of the ring on his finger bit into your flesh, but even that keen sting melted into pleasure as he began to fuck you in earnest, using the leverage of your new position to bully himself deeper inside of you. You were sure the tip of his cock was kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips. Again and again, his name tumbled from your lips—not ‘König,’ but his name. his real name. It was music to his ears.
→“Ich liebe es dich winseln zu hören, Liebe.”
→Bracing a thigh against his forearm, his thumb found your clit and you thrashed against him, tears streaming down your face as he rubbed harsh circles into the sensitive nub. He cooed down at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes flashed in the low light, “Fühlt sich das gut an?” His simpering tone sent another rush of arousal through you. You could practically feel yourself dripping around his cock.
→“Yes! Ja!” You whined, hips kicking up against his hand, desperate for more of his touch after so long without it. “Plea—uh, bitte!”
→“Gutes Madchen. Meine gutes Mädchen.”
→Your cunt throbbed around him, and he whined long and low into the darkness, his thumb still stroking your clit in time with each harsh thrust. You were going to cum—you could feel it building in your stomach and pulsing behind your oversensitive clit. Each swipe of his calloused thumb brought you a little closer to that edge; made you a little more desperate to finally reach it.
→“Fuck! Fuck! I-I’m…I-I’m gonna cum!” You didn’t have it in you play his game anymore. You hadn’t the room in your mind for it now, and he knew as much.
→“Ja, ich weiß.” His lips brushed against the crown of your head, a shockingly chaste gesture for a man buried to the hilt in your cunt. “Es ist okay, Liebe. Komm für mich.”
→Almost at once, as though his permission had been all you had needed, your muscles locked up, clamping down hard around him as the first waves of your orgasm crashed over you. Your eyes rolled in your skull, the whites flashing in the darkness. Your hips jerked beneath his fingers as he pressed them tight against your clit letting you grind against them as the pleasure rocked through you.
→You felt his head drop back down against your shoulder as he fell into you, losing himself in the rhythmic clench of your cunt. His pace was rough and sloppy as he shed the pretense of humanity and fucked into you like it was the last thing he’d do. His lips worked feverishly against your flesh—mouthing a silent prayer into the side of your neck; a devotional in your name: the only God he still believed in.
→His teeth flashed against your skin as he came, your flesh muffling his keening whine as he caught it between his teeth. He couldn’t fuck you through it, his shaking thigh giving out with the intensity of pleasure. Instead, he trembled against you, his hips pressed flush against yours as he flooded you with a searing warmth. He whined your name like it was the only coherent thought in his mind, slurring it against your kiss bruised flesh until it hardly made sense to your own ears anymore.
→How had you survived without him?
→As he slowly came back to himself, he rolled his hips, fucking into you with slow, languid strokes. He revelled in the soft whining sounds he pulled from your throat, grinning against your throat. “Mein.” His voice was little more than a whisper, his chapped lips ghosting over your soft skin, “Mein, mein, mein.”
→He peppered your neck and shoulder with gentle kisses, a contented sigh escaping his lips. His hips shifted to the left, as though he were preparing to roll over. “No!” You gripped his arm tight and shook you head. You felt the knot forming in his brow before he pulled back to look at you, his head cocked to the side in confusion.
→Your head was clearer now, his lessons easier to recall as the lust-addled fog began to clear from your mind. You locked your legs around his waist, “Kannst du noch einmal?”
→For a moment, it was all he could do to stare down at you, his eyes wide. At length, he spoke, “You…practiced?”
→You nodded, staring up at him, your eyes wide and hopeful, desperate for his approval.
→His eyes flashed, his fingers digging deep into the meat of your thighs, “In that case, du wirst mich anflehen müssen, damit aufzuhorenh.”
Translations (huge thanks to @disastersareajoy for their corrections <3):
→Scheiße - shit
→Du bist sehr eng…ich hätte zuerst deine Muschi dehene sollen - You're very tight…I should have stretched your pussy first
→Nein, Liebe - No, Love
→Frag mich auf Deutsch - Ask me in German.
→B-Bitte - P-Please
→Ich…Ich…möchte d-dein…mmm…schwarz—no! Schwanz - I…I…want y-your…mmm…black--no! Cock (hope this makes sense 'Schwarz' and 'Schwanz' sound similar to my ear and I get them confused all the time)
→Lange nicht gut genug. Nochmal - Not good enough by half. Again
→Sei sanft mit m-mir - Be gentle with m-me
→Besser, aber nein, Schatzi - Better, but no, little treasure
→Ich kann nicht, vor allem nicht jetzt - I can't, especially not now
→Ich liebe es dich winseln zu hören, Liebe - I love to hear you whine, Love
→Fühlt sich das gut an? - Does that feel good?
→Gutes Madchen. Meine gutes Mädchen - Good girl. My good girl
→Ja, ich weiß - Yes, I know
→Es ist okay, Liebe. Komm für mich - It's okay, Love. Cum for me
→Mein, mein, mein - Mine, mine mine
→Kannst du noch einmal? - Can you do that again?
→Du wirst mich anflehen müssen, damit aufzuhorenh - You will have to beg me to stop
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luveline · 2 years
Note
if you want, maybe roan is just like doodling around and stuff yk and she draws a typical like family pic but eddie notices that beside the both of them there’s another messily drawn figure and it’s the reader :( <3
HELL yeh ty baby ♡ fem!reader
Eddie's a good dad. Fuck anyone who thinks otherwise, he's good at this shit, and if Roan wants to go get burgers every Friday he's gonna take her. His daughter deserves the world.
Including greasy, messy quarter pounders from Benny's diner.
"What's that one?" Eddie asks, pointing over Roan's half eaten plate with his pinky finger at her drawing, the table between them covered in crayons from her open pencil case.
"This? This'a doggy," she says, like it's obvious and he's the worst.
"I knew that," — he did not know that — "I meant want kind of doggy."
"Oh. That's our dal-dalm-damnation!"
Eddie grins at the idea of a dalmatian named damnation. Fucking sweet. "Dalmatian, babe." He wipes his fingers in a napkin so he can lean over and pick sesame seeds out of her hair and off of her little sweater. "I thought you wanted a St. Bernard. The rescue dogs with the medicine around their neck, you remember?"
She points at the dalmatian's side where she's drawn a cross in red crayon. "He is a rescue dog."
Eddie hums appreciatively and picks up his burger again. But the time he's finished Roan has moved onto a clean page. She sits there tap tap tapping her crayon against the corner.
"What do I draw?" she asks.
Eddie grabs his napkin. "You didn't give me a look at the first one!" he exclaims, stacking her plate on top of his.
Roan struggles. Her sketchbook is a simple plain workbook from Bradley's with thin paper, but the size of it is still heavy in her small hands. She turns back to the page she'd just been decorating and brandishes it against her chest proudly.
"Holy sugar, that's awesome," he praises, and means it. "Is that Princess Peony?"
"The damnation is saving her," Roan says.
"I can see that."
He reaches under the table for his backpack. Inside, he carries around all the bare essentials necessary for successful kid outings — spare clothes, Teddy the pink bear with one ear, a hair brush, hair ties, her rain mac. And, the most important thing, wet wipes.
"Alright, c'mere. Let me wipe that face."
Despite contrary instruction, Eddie walks around to sit on her side of the booth. He does hands first, then crayons caught in the crossfire, then her face. She hates it, but when she was a baby she loathed it. He takes her scowl as an improvement.
"Why don't you draw... Maybe, a new family portrait? We can put it on the fridge like the first one. You can even include your damnation, if you like."
"He isn't real, dad."
"Just draw what's real, then. Can I trust you while I go get drinks?"
She makes a haughty little face that he takes for an eye roll and leaves to get drinks, though he's not really leaving. He's about ten feet away from her at all times and he keeps his eye on her.
He only looks away for what can't be ten seconds, and she's gone. His heart skips as his eyes scour the diner.
"Dad?"
Eddie flinches, his coke tipping over the side and down his hand. "Oh, sh- sugar," he says, kissing his fingers dry. "Babe, you scared me."
Roan stands at his knee with her drawing in hand. She wields it up at him insistently.
"That's for me? Swap?" he asks, offering her a small glass of juice.
Roan takes the juice in one hand. Eddie quickly takes her drawing so she can use both hands, watching the pride as she shuffles carefully back to the table. She doesn't spill a drop.
Eddie shakes out the drawing and sips his coke. The edges are ragged along the top where she's torn it free.
Front and centre is Roan. She's drawn herself with big long eyelashes and a full head of curls, total dad-win, in a huge cloud of pink he assumes is her very best princess dress. To her left is Eddie, same head of curls, long lashes amiss but a huge smile on his face, and to Eddie's left is Wayne. He looks especially dapper, a coffee mug in hand.
It's a great likeness.
And then there's you.
Your hair, your favourite shirt. Roan has drawn you with lovely eyes and a heart next to your smile, messy but so obviously you.
He beams like a fool as he sits down next to her again. She's already turned to a new page in her blook.
"Roan, this is amazing. And... That's Y/N."
"Duh," she says.
"Duh," he repeats, dumbfounded.
He wonders what he's supposed to say here. Telling her you aren't part of their family wouldn't be true. Telling her you are might set a precedent you aren't ready for. He worries it over for a while and takes despondent swings of coke, listening to Roan scribbling furiously beside him.
"Done!"
Eddie looks down. He gawks.
"Baby, is that..."
She points with her crayon enthusiastically. "Tada!"
"It's a castle," Eddie says carefully.
"That's where a princess gets married."
"And that's..."
"That's Y/N!"
There you are. Smiling, a bouquet of blue, red and yellow flowers on bright green stalks in hand. A prince stands beside you in a suit with a bright red scribble across his chest like a sash. The prince also has long, curly hair.
"Where are you?" he asks.
Roan points at a purple blob with black hair in the background. "I'm the flower girl."
Eddie throws his arm over her small shoulders and drops a firm, smacking kiss against her round cheek. "That's where you're wrong, bub. You'd be right next to me, my best girl."
She giggles infectiously at him, his words and breath tickling her face.
"Dad, don't be stupid. It's s'posed to be a man with you."
"Make an exception? Just this once it can be a girl. Pretty please?"
She smiles at him. It's a much older expression than she should have, like she's entertaining his fantasy, like he's the kid. "Okay, dad. I will be the best girl."
Later, when he tells you the story, you get super indignant. His stomach turns to a pit as he worries he's overstepped, but you say, "How is that fair? I want her to be my best girl."
"Maid of honour."
"What's the difference? You got her all this time completely by yourself, and you're not gonna share her on our wedding day?" Your voice drifts off as you dissapear into the bathroom, though he can hear you muttering, "Ridiculous."
He hides his electric blush with a pillow over his face. When you return, you climb half on his chest and force the pillow away to dot spearmint kisses against his pinked cheeks.
-
more eddie and roan (and reader!)
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superhoeva · 3 months
Note
aww simone i love that you’re letting us know more about them! i want to know what richie thinks of them lol
richie and bunny grow tight, partially because of how much he reminds her of her brother back in new york.
like i said before, he's always giving carmen shit because, in richie's own words, "bunny is bunny and carmen is carmen. like what the fuck??" but secretly, he loves them together. cannot wait for the wedding.
he's even told bunny this. during her and carmen's apartment warming party. his tongue is pretty loose when he's sober, so it's not surprising that it slipped out that night.
they had snuck out to the small terrace balcony that convinced carmen to get the place. tipsily giggling over inside jokes and beers. it happened after a calm quiet.
"'m real happy for you guys, you know? you're killin' it at school, things are going good at the bear. got this great place, too. it's very... carmen, which yuck. ew. but it's also very you, which is awesome. just seriously, kid, you guys uh... you guys better invite me to the wedding. and i gotta be best man, okay? can't have some other schmuck in my place–oh shit. shit, you're cryin'. did i–did i say somethin' wrong? fuck. what did i do?"
wiping away a tear, bunny shakes her head with a wet laugh.
"nothing, richie. i just love you a whole lot."
now richie's tearing up, damnit. he tries to blink away the tears, shielding her from seeing them with an arm around her shoulders. he pulls her into a a hug, placing a kiss onto her head.
"...love you too, bunny. i'm serious about that best man shit, though. and if i can't be a best man, then i'll be male-maid of honor. won't wear a dress but i'll sure as hell make sure yours is bangin'."
the bunny and the bear au || bunny!reader and bear thoughts? <3
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lovelyiida · 11 months
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬.
KATSUKI BAKUGO X SECRETARY READER
❥SYNOPSIS: as the years went by, bakugo realized that he was the last to get married. the days grew cold and the nights turned lonely. bakugo want's to marry, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. at least he has his trustee secretary!
❥: CHAPTERS
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❥ WARNINGS: implied fem reader, aged-up!, Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, sexual themes, suggestive wording, and content
❥ MASTERLIST
❥ JOIN TAG LIST!
WORDS: 8.3K
CHAPTER 3: STAGES—CHOICES? CHOICES!
"you seem more tolerable than usual"
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"Ah, fuck, a week off is what I really need, dude," Dynamight grumbles, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and longing.
"Yeah, well, keep working that ass, and maybe the officials will say something," Kirishima retorts with a half-hearted chuckle. They both share a sense of weariness, the weight of their responsibilities bearing down on them.
It's just another normal day for the two pro-heroes, Dynamight and Red Riot, as they tirelessly patrol the streets of Japan. The rhythm of their duties has become ingrained in them, but fatigue has taken its toll, leaving them aimlessly wandering through the bustling city.
As they stroll side by side, a comfortable silence settles between them. The sounds of the city envelop them, a constant hum that serves as a backdrop to their thoughts. It's in these moments of respite that casual conversations often emerge.
"So…" Kirishima begins, his voice trailing off, a spark of curiosity evident in his tone. "How's Ms. L/n?"
Dynamight's exhaustion momentarily lifts, replaced by a glimmer of interest. A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he thinks about her. "She's doing great," he replies, a hint of humor coloring his words. "Busy with her own work, but she's been killing it."
Kirishima nods, his own grin mirroring Dynamight's. "That's awesome, man. She's got the drive and the skills. No doubt she's making a name for herself out there if you refer her to other heroes."
A flicker of pride shines in Dynamight's eyes as he reflects on her accomplishments. "Yeah, she's got that fire in her. Reminds me of when I first started out, you know? Determined, focused. It's inspiring."
Red Riot claps Dynamight on the back, a friendly gesture of camaraderie. "Not giving her hell are ya?" He asks, but Dynamight's shit-eating grin doesn't fault. "Aw c'mon dude! You promised you wouldn't give her a hard time!" he groans punching him in the shoulder.
"Hey, if she can handle a battle why not give her a war?" The hero smiles. "Bakugo, we've lost over five secretaries because you wanna be an ass, just keep this one goddamn it." The redhead spits before quickening his pace and walking before him.
The blonde smacks his lips against his teeth, quickly speeding up the pace before landing a kick against his back. A moment of shared understanding passes between them, a bond forged through the trials and tribulations of their profession. They both know the unique challenges that come with being heroes, the sacrifices, and the rewards that accompany the path they've chosen.
As they continue their patrol, their steps a little lighter, and their weariness was momentarily forgotten, the friendship between Dynamight and Red Riot remains steadfast. They find solace in each other's company, knowing that they can rely on one another in the face of adversity.
With their conversation about you fading into the background, they return to their duties, their shared goal of protecting the city reigniting their resolve. Together, they navigate the streets, their footsteps echoing with determination, ready to face whatever challenges come their way. As they finish their patrol, the two pro-heroes make their way back to their agency, ascending to the 21st floor.
Stepping out of the elevator, they are met with a warm reception from their dedicated team of workers. Kirishima responds with respectful bows and words of encouragement, his friendly demeanor shining through. On the other hand, Dynamight chooses to distance himself, maintaining a stoic and solitary presence. Ignoring the well-wishes of his colleagues, he keeps his focus solely on moving forward.
"Dynamight!"
Hearing his name called out, Bakugo looks ahead to see you rushing towards him, a sense of urgency in your demeanor. Letting out a sigh, he halts in his tracks, waiting for you to catch up. As you slow your pace, he gazes down at your tired figure, a flicker of concern briefly crossing his face.
"Um, I have some papers for you to read. If you can go to your office and take a look at them, that would be great," you ask politely, holding out the documents for him to take.
"That's it?" the hero responds blankly, his tone betraying a hint of annoyance. You glance around awkwardly, feeling a bit out of place under his intense gaze. With a slight nod, you confirm that it's indeed all you need from him. Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly nods and makes his way towards his office, his steps carrying a sense of exhaustion.
Entering his office, Bakugo crashes into his seat with a loud huff, his frustration evident. "Somehow everything aches, yet I'm so fuckin' active," he mutters to himself, his words laced with a mix of irritation and fatigue.
Leaning back in his chair, he takes a moment to collect himself, allowing the weariness of the day to settle. His mind drifts to the weight of his responsibilities, the constant demand to be at his best, both physically and mentally. It's a relentless pursuit, one that often leaves him feeling drained and stretched thin.
With a tired sigh, Bakugo reaches for the papers you handed him. As he begins to review the contents, his sharp focus kicks in, his determination to excel driving him forward. Despite the fatigue and the occasional frustration, he knows that every task, every piece of information, is crucial in his ongoing mission to protect and serve.
Especially the small piece of paper that stood out among the rest, Dynamight holds it in the air, his eyes fixated on the intricately decorated surface. As he averts his gaze from the paper, he locks eyes with you, sitting in a corner chair, typing away on your computer.
"Hey," Dynamight calls out, his voice beckoning your attention. Your trained eyes snap up, meeting his intense gaze. "Yes, Dynamight?" you respond, a hint of confusion lacing your words. A moment of silence hangs in the air as you await his next words, uncertain of why he called for you.
Dynamight waves the paper in his hand toward you, prompting you to stand from your chair and approach him. Taking the paper from his hand, you observe his expectant expression. "Read it," he says flatly, his voice devoid of any enthusiasm. Your eyes travel across the paper, and you begin to read aloud.
"You're invited to the celebration of Shoto Todoroki and Momo Yaoyorozu's marriage—"
"Of fucking course," Dynamight interjects, his tone dripping with toxicity and perhaps a hint of jealousy. You gaze at him with an unreadable expression, unsure whether to continue or not.
"The ceremony is in the fall, if you want to know," you mumble softly, the words barely escaping your lips. "I don't give a damn if it was fucking tomorrow, damn it… throw it away," he says dismissively, waving you away. However, you choose to stay in place, compelled to speak your mind. "I know it's not my place to speak, but I thought I would show this to you because I heard that these were your friends," you say, your voice laced with genuine concern.
Your boss looks at you with a deadpan expression, his gaze piercing through you. "Who the hell told you that?" he asks, his voice laced with curiosity. You bite your lip nervously, briefly glancing at the invitation before covering your mouth with it. "Um, Red Riot, sir," you admit, eyes widening realizing the potential consequences of the word you said.
"Sir? What am I, 70?" Dynamight raises his voice, his irritation palpable. You quickly shake your head, realizing your choice of words was inappropriate. Before the hero can further express his discontent toward you or the situation, he lets out a resigned sigh. "Don't listen to a damn thing Riot says. He has a singular cashew for a brain," he mutters, his frustration evident.
You take a step back, processing his words and the subtle vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. Bending down into a bow, you apologize and walk towards the trash can and toss the small invitation in the garbage.
As the hours pass, you diligently work at your computer, stationed in the corner chair of Dynamight's office. Despite the occasional interruptions to run errands or print out papers, you remain focused and dedicated to your tasks. Unbeknownst to you, Dynamight observes your every move, silently appreciating your unwavering work ethic. He can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his own path as a pro hero, realizing that he could never envision himself in your position.
As the day progresses into late noon, Dynamight taps away at his phone, engaged in a text conversation with Red Riot. "So, are we getting a week off or what?" he types, eagerly awaiting his comrade's response. The screen displays the familiar bubble of three dots, indicating that Red Riot is typing. Within a moment, the response arrives: "Hell yeah, dude!" Dynamight can almost hear Red Riot's enthusiastic tone echoing from the words on his screen.
With a satisfied grin, Dynamight sets his phone down, ready to enjoy the upcoming week of well-deserved rest. However, as he looks up from his phone, he realizes that you are no longer in the office. The chair sits empty, the computer screen casting a faint blue glow. Biting the inside of his cheek, he picks up his phone and begins dialing your number, curiosity piqued by your sudden absence.
As the phone rings for a mere moment, Dynamight observes your figure darting into the office, hastily throwing the door open. Your face reflects a mixture of panic and calm urgency as you speed-walk over to his desk. With his mouth slightly ajar, he ends the ringing call, intrigued by the urgency in your demeanor.
With a huff, you slam a handful of papers down and look at the hero. His face remains straight and unreadable. "Anything else you need, Dynamight?" you say, slightly staggered breath escaping your lips. The blonde hero blinks a couple of times, tilting his head as he looks at the stack of papers.
Extending his finger to lift one of the papers, he looks back up at you. "And might I know what the fuck is on my desk, L/n?" he says, his polite tone dripping with condescension. Clenching your jaw, you manage a half-smile. "Apologies, Dynamight! These are your schedules for the next three months. I've strategically organized each event to your liking, be it fundraisers, press conferences, speeches, or office schedules-"
"Even the shitty high school reunions?" he interrupts with a sly smirk. You chuckle at his response. "Yes, I made sure to make those an optional choice for you," you say with a smirk.
Dynamight scans through the papers, his face focused. Suddenly, he slams a particular paper down and points to a specific line of text. "October 16th, that's a Wednesday. Why is there a press conference scheduled on that day?" he questions.
Raising your eyebrows, you lean over to look at the indicated line. "I scheduled a press conference on that day because you'll be accompanying Red Riot to the Golden Hall to celebrate his birthday. When there are many people with similar expertise and professions gathered, it's considered a press conference," you explain with a smile. "Plus, your officials emphasized the need for you to attend more conferences, so… I bent the rules a little," you mumble.
A long pause hangs in the office, Dynamight's eyes fixed on you. "And why should I keep these papers? Couldn't you have just emailed me this as a damn form?" he growls.
"Because you only use your phone on workdays, and even then, you're barely on it. So I figured a printed form would suit you best," you reply calmly. "And what if I lose it? What then?" he retorts with an irritated tone, seemingly upset that you have an answer to all his questions.
As he pays close attention to your every word, he notices your eye twitch.
Letting out a sigh, you place your hands behind your back. "You walk into this office with nothing, so I assume you leave with nothing as well… These papers will be waiting for you safely in a nice drawer upon your return, Dynamight," your tone edges on the brink of scolding. Your boss says nothing, tearing his gaze away from you as he settles back in his chair, focusing on his computer.
"Get out."
Blinking, you slowly bow before making your escape from the seventh ring of hell—Dynamight's office. "Wait!" he yells out, causing you to stop in your tracks. "Yes, Dynamight?" you say wearily. Your boss notices the tiredness in your tone, raising his head slightly.
"Don't come to work tomorrow. Takin' a week off," he says.
"Yes, Dynamight" you say, making another attempt to leave before you were once interrupted. "L/n!" Dynamight calls out for you once more, "Yes?" you say, on the brink of breaking right then and there.
"Rest."
Your eyes widen for a moment, that might be the nicest thing he's ever said you since you started working here. "Yes, thank you...you as well!" You exclaim, soon you grab your computer and push in your chair and rush for the door.
With a slam, Dynamight sighs and stands from his chair "god, that girl." As like every other working citizen in the building he gathers his things and leaves his building. Walking in the secluded garage to his car, he hears rushed footsteps luring behind him.
Turning, he notices his friend.
"Hey dude! mind giving me a ride?" the cheery red head says, Bakugo lets out a deep sigh before opening with the drivers side of the car stepping in. Kirishima gives him a grin before opening the passenger side and throwing his stuff and himself in the car. Starting the engine, the duo zooms out of the garage and onto a secluded tunnel that soon lead to the outside road private from the public to see.
"A whole week off, what are you gonna do, Bakugo?" Kirishima asks excitedly. "Sleeping and ignoring you," the hero replies flatly. Rolling his eyes at Bakugo's response, Kirishima settles into a comfortable silence as they drive. The Japanese sunset bathes his skin in a soft, warm glow, adding a touch of serenity to the moment.
"So… did you get the invitation?" Kirishima asks with a curious tone. "Yeah, not going to Icy Hot's shitty wedding," Bakugo retorts. This earns a groan from Kirishima. "Why not? He's your friend!" Kirishima pleads. Bakugo dismissively responds, "No, he's your friend. I'm just a publicity stunt." The statement hangs in the air, and Bakugo mutters, "Plus, weddings aren't really my thing, y'know?"
Kirishima places his hands on his head, giving Bakugo an irritated look. "Dude, you gotta get out more! Aren't you sick and tired of attending weddings without ever hosting one?" he remarks. This catches Bakugo's attention. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he growls at Kirishima. The red head shakes his head and dismisses Bakugo's anger. "Nothing, Bakugo. Just fucking drive," he sighs aloud.
Bakugo frowns deeply, keeping his eyes on the road. He revs the engine and presses harder on the gas pedal, accelerating the car's speed. Soon, the duo arrives at Kirishima's home. The place exudes a warm and welcoming aura, with signs of life scattered about. Toys dot the lawn, and the sprinkler sprays a fine mist onto the rich green grass. The lawn chairs and picnic table glisten under the sunlight, and the windows emit a cozy glow from the yellow-white lights inside. Bakugo's gaze lands on the mailbox, which bears colorful handprints and the words "Krishma's Rensidance!" etched on the side, written in childlike handwriting.
Kirishima steps out of the car, grabs his belongings, and slams the door. Turning to face Bakugo, he declares, "We're gonna hang out tomorrow! No ifs, ands, or buts!" His toothy smile brightens his face as he waves Bakugo off. As Kirishima makes his way towards his doorstep, Bakugo observes him rummaging for his keys, only to be surprised by the door opening before him.
Bakugo looks closer and sees Kirishima's entire family standing there, welcoming him. His wife holds a baby on her hip, while two toddlers eagerly reach out to embrace the towering hero. Laughter and affectionate words flow from their lips joyfully.
For some reason, Bakugo feels a pang in his chest at the sight. But before he can linger any longer, he looks ahead and accelerates, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Biting his lip, he mutters quietly to himself, "One day."
Maybe one day.
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STAGE 1' — money hungry bitch
As Bakugo approaches the voice, he traverses through a gated entrance adorned with lush tropical foliage and tall palm trees, signaling a transition into a serene and exclusive paradise. The path meanders gently downhill, leading him towards the golden sandy shores and crystal-clear turquoise waters.
Upon reaching the beach, he's greeted by a breathtaking panorama. The beach stretches out for a considerable distance, flanked by rugged cliffs on one side and the endless expanse of the azure ocean on the other. The absence of crowds and noise creates a peaceful ambiance, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the natural beauty that surrounds you.
The sand beneath his feet is soft and powdery, inviting you to take a leisurely barefoot stroll along the shoreline. The gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore provides a soothing soundtrack, accentuating the tranquility of the setting.
A series of strategically placed lounge chairs, sun-beds, and umbrellas offer a place to relax and bask in the warm sunshine. Positioned at a comfortable distance from one another, they provide ample space for privacy, allowing you to unwind and soak up the sun's rays undisturbed.
Towards the edge of the beach, the blonde finds a private cabana or a charming beachfront villa. These secluded retreats offer shade and seclusion, providing a cozy space where you can retreat for a moment of respite or enjoy a refreshing drink while relishing the panoramic coastal views.
The private beach setting in a small coastal area in Osaka, a place where people of high status are allowed to frolic without the eyes of the general public and paparazzi to taunt and disturb them. As he looks over at the cabana he sees a group of men waving near him.
Walking closer, Bakugo turns up a small grin. "Sup, guys," he calls out to his friends Kirishima, Sero, and Denki. The trio greets him with bright smiles and open arms, excited to see each other outside of a rigorous work setting. "Holy shit, we're actually here!" Denki says excitedly. "We've been planning this for months, dude," he beams.
Bakugo sits at the cabana and lays back in the modern white beach chair. Its rich plushness comforts his aching muscles. Laying back with a sigh, he closes his eyes in relaxation. "What've you been up to?" Bakugo grumbles.
"The usual, slaving away for humanity," Sero speaks up, making the three other men laugh. "Nah, but seriously, on the lighter side—me and Mina have been talking, and we're thinking of trying to have a—"
"Don't you fuckin' dare!" The blonde rises up from his seat with a frown, sunglasses tilted from the sudden jolt of energy. "What?" Sero says curiously. "What the hell do you mean by 'what?'" Bakugo mocks Sero's response in a mocking tone.
Kirishima takes a swift sip of his margarita, setting it down, he leans over to pat his friend on the back. "Hey, dude, we're happy for you! I remember when me and Imani started trying for kids. It was kinda hard, but I'm sure you'll succeed quicker than us," he says with a smile.
This makes the blonde groan aloud. "Do you even know how weird it sounds when you say that you're trying to have a kid? You're basically telling the whole world that you're fucking every day!" he protests. This makes Denki frown and shake his head.
"Even though it may seem like that, mature people like us three," Denki points towards Sero, Kirishima, and himself, "know that it's more than just fucking, okay?" he says, extending his tongue out for his straw. He lazily takes a sip of his coconut water.
"Yeah, sure, whatever. Like you and Jiro have ever had it hard, Kaminari," Bakugo says, disrespect falling off his lips with ease. This makes the yellow-haired man tilt his head in interest. A frown is present on his lips as he stands from his chair and walks towards the blonde.
"Say that again?" Denki leans towards Bakugo, electric currents traveling from his fists and up his arm. "You heard me," Bakugo growls. "You know we've had two miscarriages, right? That's not so fucking easy to handle!" Denki raises his voice.
Soon Sero and Kirishima stand to hold back the yellow-haired man and de-escalate the situation. Bakugo scoffs and leans back in his chair, the cabana suddenly grown quiet. The laid-back and relaxed aura soon turns tense and cold.
"Y'know, Bakugo, you seriously need to grow up," Sero cuts through the tension. "You can't live every day like it's high school. We're grown men with our own problems—"
Sero's words make Bakugo sit up once more. Taking off his sunglasses, the trio is met with his angry red eyes. "And I'm supposed to care about your problems?" he says. "Yes! You are because we're friends!" Sero yells. Bakugo rolls his eyes and nods his head lazily. "Yeah, whatever."
"No wonder no one wants to settle with your brute ass," Denki says. "You're stuck in this narc peak-high school era! You're turning 30 in a couple of years, wake up!" Denki yells.
The tension in the cabana thickens as Denki's words hang in the air. Bakugo's jaw clenches tightly, his fists balling up in frustration. He looks at Denki with a mix of anger and hurt in his eyes. The words hit a nerve, and it takes a moment for him to gather himself.
"You think I don't know that?" Bakugo's voice is low and laced with bitterness. "You think I don't know I'm stuck in some fucking time loop, reliving the same shit over and over again?" He stands up abruptly, knocking the chair backward. His friends take a step back, startled by his sudden outburst.
"You all act like you've got it figured out," Bakugo continues, his voice shaking with raw emotion. "I can't just fly out to the States and marry some foreign supermodel like Kiri, and sadly, like every single one of us, our youth was taken from us. All the burden was on me to save the country back then!" he yells. "So no, I couldn't shack up with my high school sweetheart like none of you guys either!" He yells.
"But I'm still here, still struggling to move forward, still haunted by the past. And you don't think I want more? You think I don't want to change?"
There's a moment of silence as his words hang heavy in the air. Sero, Kirishima, and Denki exchange glances, the weight of their friend's pain sinking in. Kirishima takes a step forward, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Bakugo, we know you've been through a lot, and we're here for you. But you have to let go of this anger, this bitterness. It's holding you back."
Bakugo's expression softens for a brief moment, but then hardens again. "Easy for you to say," he mutters under his breath. Denki takes a step forward, his tone earnest. "We're your friends, Bakugo. We're not here to judge or belittle you. We just want to see you happy, to see you grow and find peace."
Bakugo's shoulders slump, his anger starting to fade away, replaced by a weariness. He looks at his friends, their expressions a mix of concern and genuine care. "I… I don't know how to change," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kirishima steps forward and places a hand on Bakugo's shoulder. "It's okay, Bakugo. Change takes time, and we'll be here with you every step of the way. We'll help you find your path, but you have to be willing to take that first step."
Bakugo's gaze shifts between his friends, a mix of emotions playing across his face. Slowly, he nods. "Alright," he says, his voice filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I'll try… for you guys."
His friends offer him warm smiles, their support evident. They gather around him, offering words of encouragement and understanding. In that moment, Bakugo realizes that he doesn't have to face his demons alone, that he has a support system he can rely on.
As the tension eases, the cabana fills with a renewed sense of camaraderie. Bakugo knows that the road ahead won't be easy, but with his friends by his side, he feels a glimmer of hope. And for the first time in a long while, he starts to believe that change is possible.
Sero leans over to take a shot of his drink, slamming the small glass down. He lets out a smile and exclaims, "Change starts right damn now!" Stepping over towels and drinks, Sero places his hand on top of Bakugo's head and ruffles his hair. "Feast your eyes, young fellow, for there is an array of choices to feast on!" Grabbing the blonde by his jaw, he forces him to look out of the cabana.
Bakugo squints as the bright blue sky crowds his vision. Looking around, he sees many people outside enjoying their day, including women of various heights, tans, and complexions. "Dude, are you serious?" Bakugo says flatly. "Fuck yeah! I mean, unless you don't swing that way…there are guys here too, I guess," Sero says. Bakugo shoves the black-haired man off him with a grunt.
"Shut the fuck up!" Bakugo yells. Sitting back down in his seat, he looks up at his three friends, who all look back with shit-eating grins. "I don't swing that way!" he reiterates. The three back off with 'okays,' as Bakugo looks out of the cabana once more and sets his eyes on a particular woman.
"There! She's hot!" Kirishima says, and as Bakugo looks at the woman, he can't help but agree, at least from a distance. "Go up to her, talk to her, and get to know her. Then boom! Get her number, and you're in it for the long haul!" Kirishima says confidently. Bakugo shakes his head and grabs his water to take a sip. But before he can, Kirishima snatches it from his hands.
"No, no, no! Here," Kirishima gestures to the corner of the cabana. Crouching down, he reaches into the mini cooler and pulls out a rather long bottle of clear liquid. Grabbing a shot glass from on top of the cooler, he cracks open the bottle and pours a hefty amount, some spilling over and dampening the warm sand. Standing up, he cautiously walks over and hands Bakugo the shot.
"You'll need it," he chuckles, making the rest of them go into a fit of laughter. "You know I don't drink," Bakugo says before taking the glass to his mouth and drinking the sour liquid with ease. A burning sensation overtakes him. Bowing his head down for a mere moment before clearing his throat, he raises the glass and flips it over, showing that he's done.
The trio screams in triumph, grabbing him by the feet. Bakugo smiles as he's soon pushed out of the cabana. "And don't come back until you get her number!" Kirishima says. Soon, Sero and Denki grab hold of the ropes to the curtain entrance and close it shut. On the other end, Bakugo can hear the trio giggling like little girls.
Bakugo stands outside the closed curtain, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He looks at the woman Kirishima pointed out, her beauty undeniable even from a distance. A mix of nerves and determination fills him as he walks towards her.
As he approaches, he can feel his palms growing sweaty. He clears his throat, trying to find the right words to say. The woman looks up at him with a curious smile. "Hey there," Bakugo says, his voice coming out a bit rougher than he intended. "Mind if I join you?"
The woman's smile widens, and she gestures to the empty seat beside her. "Not at all," she replies, her voice warm and inviting. Bakugo takes a seat, feeling a surge of confidence.
The woman standing before Bakugo appears to be in her mid-20s, radiating a youthful energy and a sense of confidence. Her long sandy blonde hair cascades down her back, styled in a high ponytail that mirrors Bakugo's own hairstyle. The sun's rays catch the golden strands, lending them a natural shimmer.
Dressed in a vibrant purple bikini that accentuates her curves, she exudes a carefree and beach-ready vibe. A matching floral cover-up is tied around her waist, swaying gently in the ocean breeze. Her sun-kissed complexion boasts a healthy glow, complemented by an array of freckles that sprinkle across her cheeks, adding a touch of charm and playfulness to her overall appearance.
As Bakugo's gaze meets hers, he can't help but feel captivated by her dark blue eyes. They hold a glimmer of curiosity and intrigue, as if she is equally interested in getting to know him. Her eyes convey a sense of depth, hinting at a vibrant personality and a story waiting to be shared. In that moment, time seems to slow down as they lock eyes, creating an unspoken connection between them.
"So, what brings you here?" Bakugo asks, his tone awkward yet filled with genuine curiosity. The woman smiles, amused by his slight discomfort. She lifts her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip, her dark blue eyes fixed on Bakugo's intense red gaze.
"Nothing special, really. Just enjoying myself and trying to meet new faces," she replies, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. Her response intrigues Bakugo, and he nods his head, shifting in his seat to face the bar while still stealing glances at her.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Bakugo continues the conversation. "So, what do you do? Not just anyone is allowed to be here," he chuckles, prompting a giggle from the woman. She takes another sip of her drink, her eyes locked onto his.
"Well, I'm actually just a friend of a friend. She's the one who got me in here, so technically, I'm just an ordinary person," she admits, punctuating her statement with a nervous chuckle.
As their conversation progresses, Bakugo starts to notice something. The woman seems to be ordering more and more drinks, far exceeding what she had when he first arrived. As their conversation nears its end, the bartender returns with the bill.
With a frown, the woman raises the bill to her face. "Cash or card, ma'am?" the bartender asks. "Oh, no, he'll pay for it!" she chuckles, casting a small, sly grin in Bakugo's direction. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as her words sink in.
"Uh, no, I'm not—"
"What?" she interrupts, her tone flat and almost offended. "You're a pro hero. I'm sure you can handle paying for this." She slides the bill towards him, expecting him to oblige.
Bakugo slams his hand down on the bill and pushes it back towards her. "So, that's why you talked to me? Because you wanted a couple of free drinks?" he says, his voice tinged with clear frustration. The woman rolls her eyes in response.
"So, are you going to pay for the drinks or not?" she says, her tone demanding and expectant.
"Money-hungry bitch," Bakugo mutters under his breath. With a huff, he stands up from his seat and heads straight back to the cabana, leaving the woman behind.
Bakugo's frustration grows as he realizes the woman's true intentions. He clenches his fists, trying to control his anger. He can't believe he fell for her act and wasted his time on someone who was only after free drinks.
He storms back to the cabana, needing some space to cool down. The sound of the music and chatter around him fades into the background as he seethes with disappointment. He trusted her enough to engage in a conversation, only to be used for her own benefit.
As he sits in the cabana, he reflects on the encounter. He should have been more cautious and not let his guard down so easily. It's a lesson learned, a reminder that not everyone has genuine intentions.
Taking a deep breath, Bakugo decides to put the incident behind him. He won't let this one encounter ruin his evening. He reminds himself that there are plenty of other people at the party, and he can still enjoy himself.
With renewed determination, he stands up and heads back to the lively atmosphere. He joins a group of his friends and engages in conversation, letting go of the negative experience from earlier. Bakugo focuses on enjoying the rest of the night, surrounded by people he trusts and values.
Although disappointed by the woman's behavior, Bakugo doesn't let it define his evening. He learns from the encounter and moves forward, ready to make the most of the remaining time at the party. As he goes over to his friends, one of them pats him on the back, not even asking what happened while he was gone.
"There's always more fish in the sea…"
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STAGE 2' — blabbermouth
As Bakugo sits across from the woman in the VIP lounge, he can't help but feel a growing sense of frustration and disappointment. Her monologue continues unabated, and he finds himself struggling to stay engaged in the conversation. Her lack of interest in getting to know him or even asking about his own passions and experiences becomes increasingly apparent.
He tries to interject, hoping to steer the conversation toward something more balanced and engaging, but his attempts are quickly overshadowed by her relentless chatter. It feels as though she is more interested in hearing her own voice than in connecting with him on any meaningful level.
Bakugo's mind begins to wander, his thoughts drifting away from the conversation at hand. He starts to question his own decision to venture into the dating scene, wondering if finding a genuine connection with someone will prove to be an impossible task.
Unable to endure the one-sided conversation any longer, Bakugo gathers his courage and interrupts the woman mid-sentence. "Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I was hoping for a more balanced conversation," he says, his voice tinged with a touch of irritation.
The woman's smile falters for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise. She takes a moment to process his words, seemingly caught off guard by his candidness. After a brief pause, she offers a sincere apology, realizing her own self-centeredness in the conversation.
"I'm sorry," she says, her tone softened. "I didn't realize I was dominating the conversation. Let's start over and take the time to learn about each other. I genuinely want to get to know you."
Bakugo's annoyance eases a bit, appreciating her willingness to own up to her mistake. "Look, you're you're a great girl, but I gotta bounce."
"You're a hero, I get it," she responds, and he lets out an awkward chuckle. "Yeah, duty calls," he says flatly. Standing up, he heads for the door, making his way to his car. He speeds off, feeling the need to vent his frustrations to his friends.
In a flurry of angry texts, Bakugo rants about the encounter he just had. He lets out his frustration, seeking support and understanding from his buddies. Their replies offer words of encouragement, reminding him not to let one bad experience bring him down.
With each message, Bakugo's anger subsides, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and reassurance. He knows he can count on his friends to boost his spirits and help him navigate through tough situations.
Driving down the road, Bakugo's focus shifts from the negative encounter to the positive relationships in his life. He looks forward to hanging out with his friends and enjoying their company. Determined to make the most of the evening, he leaves the frustration behind.
As the city lights whiz past, Bakugo's mind clears, and he immerses himself in the present moment. He embraces the excitement and energy that come with being a hero, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.
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STAGE 3' — yandere
The next date arrives, and it turns out to be a complete disaster.
"I'm so happy to finally meet you. Trust me, you have no idea," the girl says. They are sitting at a nearby restaurant, and the hero looks at her, sensing her eagerness.
"So… you mentioned that you do hero work. What kind of hero work do you do?" Bakugo asks, attempting to initiate a conversation.
"Oh, well, I happen to know a couple of heroes personally, and I've been following you around for some time now. I've been meaning to finally meet you—" she starts, but Bakugo interrupts, feeling uneasy.
"You've been following me around?" The blonde becomes increasingly uncomfortable in his seat upon hearing her words. She starts to stammer, looking nervously at the floor and then back up at him.
Suddenly, her hands slam loudly on the table, drawing attention from nearby tables. "Dynamight! Katsuki Bakugo! I'm in love with you!" she blurts out, her voice filled with intensity.
Bakugo's eyes widen in disbelief as the girl's confession hangs in the air. He sits frozen in his seat, unsure of how to respond to such a sudden and intense declaration. The atmosphere in the restaurant grows awkward, and he can feel the eyes of other diners on them.
"Uh… what?" Bakugo manages to stammer, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and discomfort. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, feeling a wave of unease wash over him. This is not at all what he expected from this date, and he's unsure of how to handle the situation.
The girl's face turns bright red, and she covers her mouth with her hands, as if regretting her outburst. "I-I'm sorry," she stutters, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to say it like that. It's just… I've admired you for so long, and I thought maybe we could have a connection. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Bakugo takes a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to find the right words to respond. He can sense the sincerity in her words and recognizes that her emotions have gotten the best of her. Despite feeling caught off guard, he doesn't want to hurt her feelings.
"Look, I appreciate your admiration, I'm flattered really," Bakugo says, his voice firm but not unkind. "But it's too soon for me to reciprocate those feelings. Let's take things slow and see where it goes."
The girl's expression shifts from embarrassment to a sight of disappointment. She nods, her eyes downcast. "I understand," she murmurs softly. "But I really do love you."
Bakugo offers a small smile, trying to alleviate the tension. "Um, Yeah…" Looking towards his left he spots a restroom. "Hey, you don't mind if I hit the stalls right quick eh?" he asks. The woman across from him, head hung low.
"But I love you."
Eyes going wide, he soon leaves from his seat and cautiously heads for the door and speeds off.
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STAGE 4' — acceptance
So just like you, Dynamight derives from the same misfortune of dating in his 20's being absolutely shitty.
Following the next Monday, Bakugo strides into his office, feeling refreshed and energized. He settles into his chair behind the desk, surrounded by reminders of his heroic achievements. The room is adorned with trophies and mementos, a testament to his unwavering dedication to protecting the city.
As he gazes out of the large windows, Bakugo's red eyes reflect a sense of contemplation. Thoughts drift back to the words spoken in the cabana. They hold a truth he can't ignore—finding love has been a challenging journey for him. While his friends effortlessly find their partners, his life has been consumed by battles and the responsibility of safeguarding countless lives.
Memories of his high school years flood his mind, the weight of the city and country pressing upon him during the war against the League of Villains. It was a time when his determination burned brightest, but it left little room for personal pursuits. The demands of his heroic duties offered no respite, no chance to indulge in leisure or explore romance.
In his youth, he dreamt of finding that special someone, of experiencing a deep connection. Yet, as time passed and his heroism took center stage, those aspirations faded. His ambition burned hotter than the desire for companionship, and the pursuit of love lost its allure in the face of his unwavering dedication.
Now, sometimes he might have a one-night stand here or there. But it's only to subside his manly urges. But besides that, he was completely alone. With the only thing surrounding him were the stole cold trophies and awards.
But his train of thought was cut short.
"Good morning, Dynamight! How was your break?"
The hero watches as you walk in, your attitude more chipper than usual. A warm smile cascades across your face as you set a couple of neatly organized papers on his desk. As he eyes you, he notices a striking difference in your appearance.
Instead of your regular bleak all-black attire, you decided to spice things up. You're wearing a black dress shirt with a matching loose sweater and a pencil skirt. His eyes waver down and, wait, are those heels?
The hero can't help but admit that you look good.
"Fine, you?" he asks, but instead of getting a response, he looks up and sees you in the corner of the room texting with a smile on your face. As you finish texting, you place your phone in your bag and look back at the hero.
"Great," you say with a smile, but suddenly your phone rings and your face is glued back to the screen. With a sigh, the hero tends to his paperwork, but he's puzzled by the sight before him.
"Sauna date??? Movies??? Take him home???" is written on the paper. "Mr. and Mrs. L/n? What the hell?" Dynamight mumbles in confusion, the paper still in his hand. His eyes tear from the paper and back to you.
"L/n." "Yes, Dynamight?" You ask, currently occupied sneaking a good morning text to your date. Dynamight sighs and rubs his temple with his free hand. The blonde began to think to himself:
So everyone is just shacked up but me huh? "Strike two," he says with a cold tone.
Eyes snapping up from your phone your face is puzzled, you find your boss holding a piece of paper. Looking closer you grow warm in embarrassment. It was a random loose leaf paper of writing—words consisting of you having your date last name and next date ideas scattered all over it.
"It's a strict policy we have here…keep your romantic endeavors outside of work, you of all people should know that." He says, voice stern and strong he stands from his chair and walks close to you.
As he looks at you, he eyes you down and starts to look at your features intensely. From your batting eyelashes to the shine in your pupils. Every mark, freckle, or scar adorned on your face was taken into sharp notice.
"I'm sorry, Dynamight… it won't happen again," you say softly, feeling a mixture of guilt and embarrassment. Dynamight looks at how you look like a deer caught in the headlights, snapping from his thoughts he takes the paper, crumpling it up and shoves it into your palm with a dismissive gesture.
For a moment he thought you were cute. "Right," he says coyly, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. Without another word, he turns and walks away, and you instinctively follow suit.
You both make your way down to the basement of the building, where a private parking lot reserved for top employees and heroes awaits. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished gravel reverberates in the air as you quickly catch up to Dynamight's wide strides. As you look ahead, you notice a chauffeur stepping out of the driver's seat of a sleek, black luxury SUV. The chauffeur promptly walks over to open the door, extending a hand to assist you and the pro-hero.
As the hero takes his prideful steps into the car, he was in deep thought. Thinking about a conversation he had in the cabana:
"What about L/n?"
The hero shakes the emerging thought from his head in an instant. Looking over, he notices you looking out the window, lost in your own thoughts. Watching how the Japanese sunrise hits your skin and pours into your eyes. Lips pursed and eyes relaxed as you throw yourself deeper in thought. Biting your lip you look back down at the papers in your hand
But soon, you glance up from your work, meeting Dynamight's gaze in a brief moment of eye contact. The young hero didn't know what to feel when his eyes met yours, but before he get lost in your eyes. You pull your gaze away can return to your work.
For a moment Dynamight thinks to himself that maybe he should try and get to know you, he realizes that from most of his secretaries, you seemed more tolerable than usual.
"So… who's the guy?" Dynamight breaks the thick tension in the air, causing you to pause from your typing and look at him with a rather shocked expression. "I'm not permitted to tell you that information, Dynamight," you say, maintaining a professional tone. The pro hero rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed with your response.
"Fuck the rules, I'm your boss," he retorts, contradicting himself with a hint of frustration. You swallow nervously and shift your gaze to the window, observing the bustling city of Japan at such an early hour.
"I met him during my week off. He's a good guy, and we're attracted to each other–"
"That's it?" Dynamight interjects with a snort, and you blink, trying to restrain yourself from showing your irritated state. "Well… I'm not exactly comfortable discussing my personal life in detail," you respond politely, hoping to defuse the tension. However, as you glance over, you notice Dynamight giving you an unamused look. He soon adjusts in his seat and leans his head back, signaling his disinterest in further conversation.
"Whatever," he says dismissively, the hero soon shuffles in his seat and leans his head back. Closing his eyes he tries to think of anything else but his mind travels back to the conversation he had in the cabana.
"What about L/n?" Kirishima says, his curiosity piqued.
"No fucking way!" the blonde responds, his voice filled with disbelief. "Who is L/n?" Sero and Denki say simultaneously, their interest now fully sparked. Bakugo looks over at his friends, his intense gaze silently pleading for them not to say another word.
"L/n, Y/n L/n. She's the new secretary," Kirishima says with a mischievous grin, unable to contain his excitement any longer. As he speaks, the duo's eyes widen with intrigue. The mention of a new arrival in their midst always manages to stir their interest.
"Dude, another one? They just keep dropping like flies," Sero chuckles, his amusement evident in his voice.
"Nah, man, this one is staying, I swear," Kirishima retorts confidently, pouring himself a drink as he settles into his seat. He takes a moment to savor the anticipation in the air before continuing, "Like hell she is," Bakugo mutters under his breath, his arms crossed and an air of defiance surrounding him.
Denki gazes at his friends, his curiosity piqued. "Well, which one is it? Is she staying or leaving?" he asks, unable to contain his eagerness for more information.
"Bakugo doesn't want to admit it, but she's good at what she does," Kirishima states with a mix of admiration and pride. "She has this attitude that I've never seen before. She reminds me of how we all used to be at UA— young and a ball of determination and confidence waiting to be popped," he boasts, his voice filled with nostalgia and fond memories.
"Plus, she's got a nice swing to her ass… and I'd tap that if I were you—" Kirishima continues, but his words are abruptly cut off by Bakugo's fierce interruption.
"Enough! Please!" the blonde's voice echoes through the cabana, a mix of frustration and embarrassment evident in his tone. He had hoped his friends would steer the conversation away from such personal matters, but it seems they were determined to tease him relentlessly.
"She sounds like a hoot. I'd say go for it," Denki chimes in, raising his glass in a toast to support his friend's potential romantic endeavors. His mischievous grin hints at the mischief he envisions unfolding.
"I mean, I think you should go for it too," Sero adds, his voice laced with playful encouragement. "And what's the worst that can happen? Just fire her," he suggests casually, taking another sip of his drink.
Bakugo leans back in the beach chair, his mind now abuzz with a mixture of thoughts and emotions. The words of his friends swirl in his head, tempting him to consider the possibilities. He contemplates the impact this new secretary might have on his life and the potential adventures that lie ahead.
Soon he feels a jolt pushing his side to side, opening his eyes he sees you. Face content and cold, "We're nearing your destination Dynamight." You say, gathering your things you hand him papers. The hero kept his gaze on you for a moment before looking down and shuffling the papers, mumbling to himself.
I'll think about it…
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You thought you were getting closure from the cliffhanger lol, nah...
Pulled this out of my literal ass, so this might be the last chapter you're getting out of me for a while LMAO (not to long tho stay seated).
Finally getting back on my zoom and writing more! I have so many ideas to share with you, I'm so fucking excited to share them with you all!
— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎
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❥: @r-ans, @xo-evangeline, @superkittywonderland, @inlovewithteo217, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @nar00, @king-dynamight, @bollzinurmouth, @gold24fish, @xasilex, @the-queen-of-sorrows, @itgetzweird08, @yoyosocks165, @zyxys1, @your-mom83, @pebblepoop, @lovra974, @suchagoodgirixoxo, @bakugospartner, @gaby-11, @smokers-sweetheart, @akqsa-xxi, @StableCreator93, @alhina, @din-O-bi-wan, @jolynegf, @sad0ni0n, @wore-for-anime, @a1hina, @goldenglow149, @aliruuiz, @zany17, @zukowantshishonourback, @uvula6927, @ilovedenk-i, @LavaLampFullOfSoup, @echosfadve, @atsushiki, @smolbeanzzz, @urdecentartist09, @lem-hhn, @stevenknightmarc, @violetseon, @katsu-shi, @ryumiii, @idontevenknowlolls
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chungledown-bimothy · 5 months
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Top 10 battle maps on d20?
thank you for saying 10 lol (for the sake of fairness, I'm just going to talk about the physical maps in the dome- this is a Rick Perry et al appreciation post, as cool as the ones from Starstruck, TUC2, and The Seven (from what I've seen) are.)
THE BEAR. That goddamn motherfucking bear. Like, what the fuck, Aabria. The rest are gonna be listed by the episode title, but the bear deserves its own level of classification.
Deep Bleu Sea. The way it forced risky and/or very creative mobility, the boats moving, all of it.
Times Squaremageddon. I love it for all the same reasons as Deep Bleu Sea, the reason it's lower is because I like the ACOC aesthetic better than NYC lol
Reactor Charlie/The First Stoats. The puzzle in Reactor Charlie fucks SEVERELY, and how it transforms for The First Stoats is also such a big part of why I love it that I can't leave it out.
Scramble in the Sewers. The water rising was awesome both as a mechanic and how it was physically represented. And again, I love a mobility challenge.
Attacks on the Tracks. It was an actual, functioning model train. Incredible.
Arcade Ambush. Simpler in layout, but the challenge of possibly getting sucked into the games was really fun. And the context of it being in the first season, with its much lower budget than later seasons, cannot be ignored.
For Candia!. This one is a relatively unpopular opinion, I know, but I loved the swing they took with the scale change. The way it forced the players to literally look at the big picture and consider the tactical advantages and disadvantages of the two scales being offered to them. So we got the feeling of a proper siege taking back their castle as well as moments like the confrontation between Amethar and Calroy.
The Baron of Bricks. The wolf was in the soup and also the spoon tries to kill you.
The Ending of All Things. Say what you will about now Neverafter ended narratively, but the battle set FUCKED.
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