You were just a puppy, and he couldn't get mad at you, but god did you have to chew up his shoes? His favorite shirt? His masks? He was so pissed.

"Thought I trained you not to do anything like that. Bloodyhell." He muttered, cleaning up your mess as you watch him, your floppy ears wiggling whenever you tilt your head.

He looked down at you, raising an eyebrow before patting his thighs, which triggered you to happily use his legs as a stabilizer.

Couldn't stay mad.