i swear to my life

lepetitvainqueur  asked:

omfg carol I made a grave mistake I watched BTS' comeback show and they are dancing like the gorgeous ppl they are like so fresh in Mic Drop and so cute and sassy playful in Go Go bUT THEN THEY DID DNA DANCE VERSION LIVE AND I SWEAR MY WHOLE LIFE I DID NOT TRULY UNDERSTAND WHAT PANTYDROPPING MEANT U N T I L T H E N HOOOLLLLYYY. RUINED. they need to CALM DOWN so that I CAN CALM DOWN. So????? r00d??????? Who let them??? Do this ?????? H O N E S T L Y. 😤😤😤😵😵😵

ahfksnjdkdk i still haven’t seen any of their live performances bc mY WIFI SITUATION IS STILL TERRIBLE. im suffering!!!!!!!!!

Imagine helping Frank write a lovesong, not knowing it’s about you.

“Hey uhh - can you come here for a minute, y/n?” Frank called out. You instantly put down your drink and headed away from the rest of the guys to go and see what Frank was up to. He was pretty secretive about his song writing processes, and coming up with potential rhythms, he usually didn’t let anyone else in the room with him.

“Are you finally going to play something for me?” You teased, sitting down across from him. He looked quite conflicted with his guitar on his lap, his hair messy and wadded up balls of paper all around him.

“No, I just need a little bit of help with this one part.” He said. You nodded with encouragement and he started to play a little.

“I know I’ve loved you all my life … I swear I’ve loved you all along … from the first time I laid eyes on you, until the day I die, I know I’ll love you til the end of time.” He paused his playing. “It feels like there should be another lyric next.”

You thought for a second. “Maybe something like cross my heart, hope to die? It sort of fits in with the theme.” You suggested. That made him brighten up a bit.

“Thanks!” He said. He went back to strumming and you took that as your cue to leave. You gave him one last smile then headed out of the room. He kept playing when you were out of earshot.

“Until the day that I die, I know I’ll love you till the end of time…If you cross my heart, I’ll hope to die … y/n.” He sang your name and wished that you had been there to hear it. Another time, hopefully you’d catch him.

Satisfied

Viktor had a relationship once- why not? He’s hot and people confuse him and his usage of mascara- when he was young. The details are blurry to Viktor these days, but he was too excited and he was delusional with the prospect of love back then, almost a cringe worthy moment for Viktor when he remembers these things late at night.

It was how you would imagine it. Viktor, looking back on it now, wondered how seemingly enthusiastic he managed to be in the two year long crusty ‘relationship’ they had. There were these little sprinkles of affection, shy blushes and the kind of exploration young crazy teenagers do during their young crazy lives, but there was nothing special about it.

He was an art major. Viktor figured they were compatible, two pieces of puzzles sliding together in delusional harmony, with Viktor’s artistry out on the ice and his on his canvas.

What made him special, amongst the other folders of exes he had locked away in a metaphorical file cabinet, was the fact that he was the one who stayed the longest.

Viktor was a fucking whirlwind. Nobody could keep up his tiresome training schedules, his absent meals, the long hours spent at the rink. His ex wrung it out as far as possible, trying hard to be understanding and patient at first, until finally, he broke.

“You’re… You’re too much.” He finally hisses after another failed date night. Viktor doesn’t have the heart to deny the statement. “You’re fucking selfish. You… You revolve around nothing but the ice! No hobbies, no ambitions, nothing but that stupid gold fucking medal you always win anyways.”

Viktor doesn’t flinch, doesn’t feel anything at all. He was right. He was right.

“And then what? What happens when your body tires out, huh Viktor? What happens if you lose?” He says, there are tears brimming his eyes. Viktor doesn’t have the heart to well up a tear. “I tell you, you’ll regret it. You will have nothing.” 

When he walks out the door, Viktor realized that he had nothing the whole time Not even the satisfaction of being complete.

When Chris asks him if he had any plans to get into a relationship anytime soon, he’d laugh. I don’t have the time. He’ll say. Nobody is willing to stay. His mind pleads.

And then comes Yuuri.

He realizes many things: Yuuri was an even bigger whirlwind. He was deadly and dangerous and beautiful, Viktor had felt the thrill of standing in the eye of a storm when he holds Yuuri’s hand, when he sees his smile. He was beautiful. He was deadly.

Yuuri spends even more time in the rink than him, eyes focused and determined and Viktor watches in awe from the side because he felt like he just got crushed by an avalanche and Yuuri wasn’t even breaking a goddamn sweat. He was fragile and strong, loud and quiet, an enigma Viktor has yet to solve. 

Yuuri was beautiful. Yuuri was perfect.

He’s perfect when he takes Makkachin out for walks, when he looks over his shoulder and tosses Viktor a teasing little smile, when he wakes up in the morning with bed hair and crusty eyes, when he’s crying and broken and Viktor doesn’t know what the fuck to do and Yuuri calls his bullshit out for it, when he skates, when he lets Viktor hold him, when he’s Viktor’s.

Yuuri was his.

Yuuri would stay.

One day, while in a hotel bar as he waits for his dearest, he spots someone across from him with the eyes of a ghost from his past.

“I’m opening up a gallery somewhere.” He says when Viktor asks the standard how are you out of sheer politeness. He hasn’t changed, maybe getting edgier and manlier, finally not the young art major he used to be. He has grown. Viktor has grown too.

“The… The Japanese man. Is he…?”

Viktor smiles, purposely setting his hand on the marble counter to show off the gleam in the golden band. The memory of Yuuri sends another warm flutter in Viktor’s heart. God, it’s been years. “Engaged.”

He smiles and nods, seemingly happy for them.

“You love him, truly.”

Viktor purses his lips around his glass. Of course he does, why wouldn’t he? Yuuri was kind and beautiful and smart and all his.

“The moment I mentioned him… you looked like the happiest man in the world.” He says, shaking the glass in his hand, swirling the amber contents. Viktor does not feel any resentment in his voice, but he feels cautious at the incoming topic. “You’re truly happy. It’s amazing.”

Viktor narrows his eyes, just for a fraction. “What made you think I wasn’t?”

He raises an eyebrow. Are you fucking kidding me? Viktor couldn’t blame him. “Your eyes shine, you perk up, and hell, I didn’t even notice that your smile was heart shaped before. Now your grin is bigger than ever.”

Viktor cracks a smile, leaning back against the counter. 

He sets the glass down, smiling softly. “I’m happy for you.”

Viktor’s happy too. Truly. He was right. And for once, he was glad that he didn’t decide to stay.

“Do you want to come to the wedding?” It was a little weird to invite your ex to your wedding, but Viktor wasn’t one to follow social norms. 

He accepts before finally leaving, one last goodbye between them.

Yuuri finally arrives a few moments later, cheeks flushed and burrowed adorably under a scarf. God knows how torturous Russian weather can be. “Who was that?”

Viktor smiles, kissing Yuuri’s knuckles before lacing their fingers together. “No one of importance.”

During their wedding, Yuuri dips him in for a kiss. Viktor never wanted to let go of the moment, but they crumble on the floor laughing. Chris was discreetly installing a pole in the banquet room and he had to prevent tears more than five times in the past two hours. Yurio resentfully gives him tissues from the sidelines 

Viktor might’ve thought that he’ll never get the satisfaction of being complete, thought that he’ll never stop being a whirlwind, but Yuuri carries him away and swept him off his feet, launching him into the air laughing and giggling.

He spots him in the crowd, talking to the girl he brought with him- possibly his now girlfriend, Viktor thinks she’s lovely- and they connect gazes.

He smiles, raises a glass like a toast.

Viktor raises his own glass back.

Viktor was happy. Viktor was complete. Viktor was satisfied.

Headcanon that they actually do sell Eraserhead merchandise, even though Aizawa isn’t all too happy about it. But underground hero or not, he has gathered at least a little fanbase, and there are being toy googles looking like his or scarfs similar to his “weapon” being sold.

Aizawa may or may not come to terms with that merchandise a little bit more when one day, he and his class are going shopping and when he turns around - having let the kids out of his sight only for a few seconds - he is greeted with the sight of twenty children wearing yellow Eraserhead-goggles and scarfs and posing, reciting things like “No good hero is a one trick phony” or “Logical ruse, guys!”

Aizawa nearly freaking loses it, very uncharacteristically for him, when he gets to witness the kids putting one pair of goggles on Toshinori’s head and the retired hero merrily joining in on their “cosplay”.

He does take pictures of those clowns pretending to be him, though all the while swearing that Mic will not get to see those.

(Mic, of course, somehow ends up seeing them.)